‘You’ll do your back in peering like that!’
‘Indiraben, you understand. Look,’ he gestured into the hall and Indira’s gaze followed, her elbows resting on her mandir-branded Zimmer frame. ‘I must look after her.’
Naina looked so different. Her hair, usually jet black and plaited, was today covered completely by an old sari that didn’t match the rest of her outfit. That was very unlike Naina, but Indira didn’t say anything to Mukesh. He was watching his wife so intently, as though, if he were to look away, she might disappear entirely.
Naina’s face was shrunken, but her expression was the same as always – vibrant, animated. Indira could sense a heaviness in Naina’s eyelids, even from here, but her arms were gesticulating in time with the music and her mouth was open wide: she was putting all her energy into the song. Perhaps this song was giving her life right back. The women, seated in chairs or on the floor, were all clapping in time, their saris and Punjabi dresses a sea of colour.
If it wasn’t for Naina’s shrunken stature, a stoop in her shoulders that Indira had never noticed before, her slender face, the scarf over her head, Indira would have never believed that Naina had cancer. But there were all those things, clear to see, and Indira wondered why God had chosen her. Why Naina? Naina had a family. Loved ones. Indira – Indira was as healthy as anything, and she barely had a soul left to love her.
‘I must go in,’ Indira said to Mukesh, who nodded, his mouth turned downward. He held the door open for her as she wheeled herself in.
Naina beamed and beckoned her forward to a seat. She didn’t stop singing for a minute.
In that room, Indira could sense the love and respect everyone had for this woman standing in front of them. If Indira was going through the same thing, would people be here for her, watching with the same look in their eyes? She doubted it – she knew why, she knew that she and Naina were different kinds of women. But Indira was always searching for connection; it was just that, quite often, no one was searching with her.
After the satsaang ended, Indira huddled against the far wall, pretending to make sure she had all her things, feeling awkward and alone, not knowing who to talk to. Naina approached her. Everyone else was focused on chatting with their own friends, their sisters, their cousins, their neighbours.
‘Indiraben, so lovely of you to come. It has been a long time, ne?’
‘Ha, Nainaben. You did wonderfully today, your daughters, they are very proud,’ Indira gestured to the three women sitting right at the front, now engaged in conversation. ‘Clapping and cheering all the way through!’
Naina looked towards her daughters, Deepali, Rohini and Vritti. ‘Ha, they are wonderful.’
Indira nodded, held her hands to Naina’s face, felt her warm, soft skin. ‘Jai Swaminarayan,’ Indira whispered to her. Naina’s hands clasped hers, ‘Thank you, ben,’ she said, her smile gentle, a sparkle in her eyes.
That day was the last day Indira saw Naina. The reading list remained screwed up and forgotten in the plastic bag for a long time, taken to and from the mandir every week. But, at just the right time, it would find its way out.
Chapter 9
MUKESH
‘HURRY UP, DADA! I want to get to the library.’
Mukesh enjoyed the walk up to the high road, but the air hurt his lungs as he struggled to keep up with Priya, skipping along ahead of him. Just watching her somehow made him feel even older, frailer. Once upon a time, he’d held Priya as a newborn. All eyes and ears, and a tiny button nose. How small and breakable she had seemed then. And now look: their roles had already reversed. He was the breakable one now.
The Harrow Road Library was an old building, completely different from the modern Civic Centre; it looked as if it had been someone’s house once, with big white walls and timber framing, black and bold. Behind it was the park, so it was quiet and peaceful despite being on the main road. There were lots of windows, some were definitely new and modern, along with those terrifying ‘automatic-open’ glass doors. He spotted a sign on the door that he hadn’t noticed before: Save Our Libraries it said. Spread the word.
‘Wow,’ Priya whispered as she approached. ‘Ba took me here once, when I was little. I don’t really remember it though.’
Mukesh nodded; he was nervous, embarrassed after last time, but Priya’s excitement was spurring him on. Keeping hold of Priya’s shoulder, to prevent her from running off again, he took a moment, before approaching the door, to check who was there. He peered through to see dark hair, pulled back into a bun, surfacing above the desk. It was her, the rude girl. He sighed and squared his shoulders.