into the kitchen. Now, this I wasn’t expecting. I quickly ran to the phone and dialled home. For sure my mother would find a way out for me.
“Mom, you have to help me!” I cried into the phone as she picked up.
“Esha? Are you okay, child? What’s wrong?”
“I’M STUCK!” I yelled into the phone.
“Esha, calm down. Tell me, what has happened?”
“Ekant says it’s too dangerous to travel. Some attack on the Golden Temple. Why didn’t you think of that, Mom, before sending me here?”
“Oh child, I was so caught up in the grief of your father that I was not watching the news when it happened, but these past few days, I have been seeing the sadness and frustrations in the community here. It is a terrible, terrible thing that has—”
“I know, I get it, Mom. I wasn’t asking for a lecture on politics, I’m getting enough of that here!” I said, cutting her off. “But what do I do now? I can’t just stay here. Who knows how long it’ll take, and Ekant didn’t seem like he’s in any hurry.”
“Oh! You met him! How is he?”
“Very rude,” I replied.
“Rude? Oh come on, Esha, do not be so negative all the time.”
“I’m not being negative, Mom; he is rude!”
“What does he look like?”
“Actually, a lot like Dad,” I muttered. I was quickly beginning to despise the fact that he resembled my father so much.
“Really? Oh, well then, you two must really look like brother and sister, right?”
“Unfortunately, but who really cares. Stop changing the subject and let’s solve my problem! I think I should come back home. I can come back to India and go to Kiratpur some other time. I mean nothing is happening to Dad’s ashes in that box.”
“No, Esha! You cannot leave your journey incomplete! You made a promise. Besides, it will be a very bad omen if you leave. One cannot desert their journey to perform the last rites once they have already set out on it. You have to complete it, only then can you return.”
“But Mom, what am I going to do here? I’ve really had it with all of your bad omen talks. Everything is a bad omen for you!” I snapped. Her reaction was more frustrating than Ekant’s!
“We are talking about your father’s soul, Esha! This is not a trip to the mall or one of your parties that you can just leave when you have had enough. Why must you always leave when things get tough?”
“What do you mean? When do I do that?” I demanded. I hadn’t been expecting her to attack me in return. She was supposed to be on my side.
“Every time—at home, in the hospital and even now, you want to give up. I understand you do not like it, but damn it, child, you made a promise, and those ashes belong not only to your father but to my husband. You will not leave India until you have put his soul to rest. Do you understand?”
As much as I hated to admit it, she did have a point. I had made a promise, and it was for my father. “Okay . . . fine . . . fine! I won’t return until I take Dad’s ashes to Kiratpur. That doesn’t mean that I’m just going to wait around here forever for Ekant to finally decide he’s not a coward.”
“Just do not cause any trouble, please?” she pleaded.
“Yeah, whatever,”
“Esha, take care of yourself. I love you.”
“Bye, Mom,” I said, hanging up. So much for helping me. Now, I really was stuck.
SEVEN
August 1984
The next few weeks were insufferable. I spent the better part of each day just sleeping. The rest of the day was spent reading. At first I went through all three books that I had brought along and read them repeatedly until each chapter and paragraph was embedded in my memory, and I could bear them no longer. Thankfully, before I could tear my hair out or claw at the walls, Jas located a bookstore that carried titles by American authors. The selection was quite decent, and I was able to find enough books to occupy my time. So while I waited for Ekant to give the green light for travel, I dove into the suspense, drama and romance of American culture.
Eventually I expanded my list of activities when I found one of Bhagat’s neglected soccer balls. When I wasn’t reading or sleeping, I focused on my training, using the courtyard as my makeshift field. It was a relief to find something to do during the long, sweltering summer days. I quickly found that I couldn’t visit the rooftop balcony during daylight hours without attracting the curious stares of the strangers who surrounded me. The neighbourhood was disgustingly cluttered and busy. From one roof, you had a front row view of the entire neighbourhood. They could spy on me, just as easily as I could spy on them. It was infuriating at first, but in due course, they grew bored of me. Still, I did my very best to avoid people.
Sumi had become a regular visitor. She came by each day, looking to spend time with me, but I never had much to say to her in return. I mean, what could we possibly have in common? However, Dhadhi insisted that she visit. So she sat quietly and either flipped through her own books as I sat and read my own or watched me train in the courtyard. Our only real exchanges came when we listened to the news.
I listened and watched daily to various news broadcasts in order to monitor the ongoing political situation in Punjab and the surrounding areas. The reports were quite extensive at first. June and July were consumed with protests, police raids and heated discussions between political analysts, government officials and even literary critics. The army maintained a considerable presence in the region and in the Golden Temple Complex. Mass arrests were taking place all over Punjab.
Each day, I desperately sought a report that would give some indication that things were stable or even remotely safe. However, for weeks, there were constant rumblings from the authorities regarding possible Sikh terrorist retaliation following Operation Bluestar. In contrast to those reports were the ones coming from families who complained of wrongful arrests, police beatings and forced disappearances of male Sikhs.
One day Dhadhi returned in tears from one of her daily visits to the local Gurdwara. When I asked her the reason, she revealed that her friend’s fifteen-year-old son had been arrested during a trip to Punjab. He’d been picked up in a small village in the district of Moga. He’d repeatedly cried out, asking for the cause of his arrest, but the police had simply locked him away for five days and beat him regularly. When his mother travelled to the police station demanding answers, she was snubbed. After two days of waiting and refusing to leave the station, the inspectors yelled at her, calling her son a “terrorist”. Eventually, they did set him free.
There was never a trial, not even a formal charge for a crime. He wasn’t booked for anything. Worst of all, Dhadhi revealed that he was no longer able to walk. Five days. In just five days, the police had roughed him up so much that he wouldn’t be able to walk, perhaps for the rest of his life. Ekant used Dhadhi’s tale as a further example of why he was right not to travel. I simply sneered at him as he recounted the story each and every night, explaining that it would be “foolish” to attempt any type of travel outside
