Julie & Kishore (2 page)

CHAPTER TWO

The Hindi word for family is pariwar.

The
Prime Minister of India in 1984 was the country’s youngest Prime Minister ever,
Mr Rajiv Gandhi. He came into power at the age of forty, after the
assassination of his Mother Indira Gandhi
-
 
no
relation to the famous peace
loving Gandhi.

Kishore
was born and raised in a very traditional family in New Delhi, India. His
family were
devoted
Hindu
’s
and as such were extremely religious, praying daily, which was a natural way of
life where he comes from. Almost everything, everyone does in India rotates
around the many Hindu gods. Worshipping can be done at home where families
create a small shrine to their choice of god somewhere in their house. If they
do go to a temple to worship, which is known as puja, Hindus wash thoroughly at
home before prayers and when they reach the temple (mandir) remove their shoes,
which are considered impure.

Worshipping
involves all
of
the five senses - touch, taste, smell, sight and
hearing also the five basic elements - light, fire, earth, air and water,
meaning the whole soul of the being is involved in praying. Divas (little clay
lamps) are lit, as the purity of the flame is part of the cleansing process.

Hindus
consult priests or astrological charts when making a decision whether it’s a
career move, marriage or regarding children. They see the universe in terms of
karma, which means for them to take on life in another form on earth in order
to resolve whatever relationships or mistakes they had left uncompleted before
or in another life.

Kishore’s
Father, Chandra and Mother
,
Roopa were
immensely proud, reserved, respectful people who loved their son dearly.

His
Father, being the head of the family was stern but knowledgeable and always
ready to give wise advice. His Mother, a warm and caring woman worked extremely
hard, devoting her life to her husband and children. In her time women were
only meant to be obedient housewives, bear offspring and regard their husband
as a god. She shared his karma and his destiny while her husband provided for
his wife’s needs, her security and social status. Giving birth to sons enhanced
her status even further. The qualities most admired in a Hindu woman are
modesty, shyness and self-effacement.

When
Kishore woke each morning his Mother was there to tend to his, his siblings and
his Father’s every need. It was her duty to be up before anyone else, prepare a
cooked breakfast and ensure each member of the family received whatever they
required. They lived a simple life, better than some in India but worse than
others. Their home was the typical set up for a dwelling in the bustling
metropolitan city of New Delhi, consisting of a small apartment with only one
bedroom. The flat was comfortable, it also contained a sitting room, kitchen
and bathroom. In this small but modest home is where Kishore’s Mother and
Father raised four children.

During
his childhood jam and eggs were regarded as wondrous treats and with young
children in the house these items didn’t last long.
Kishore’s
family didn’t own a car, washing machine or a television, not because they
couldn’t afford these things but in those times in India you managed with what
you had. Appliances and cars were considered new conveniences and were not
available to everyone, they were also thought of as luxuries and were not
deemed necessary for everyday life. Their belief was to not pity themselves for
being unable to have things other people did. Poverty was immense in India and
they were grateful to god for everything, even the smallest thing.

Despite
your status it was always important to look your best. No one in Kishore’s
family would dare to ever leave the house unless they were dressed smartly,
modestly and in clean and ironed clothes. In Indian society this proved just by
appearance only a person came from a respectable family.

 
Their eldest son attended Delhi University. As
a young adult Kishore always had a feeling of being on the verge of a change in
his life, he never felt settled, always knowing something different was in
store for him.
 
Although at school he was
aware of girls he never found himself to be ‘interested’ in anyone.

Studying
came relatively easy for Kishore, he practically coasted through university
graduating with a
degree in
commerce,
always
bearing in mind he wanted a career as an accountant.
After receiving his degree he obtained employment in a small accounting firm:
his Grandfather was a bookkeeper and his Father worked in a bank so he was
eager to carry on the tradition. Kishore enjoyed working, he was smart, savvy
and learnt quickly. He had his own office, a peon - a young boy servant who is
appreciative of work even if it’s simple tasks such as making tea, fetching
water or putting staples in the stapler and Kishore was extremely busy. Most
importantly now he was earning, the plan that was always in the back of his
mind could finally start. After giving some of his wages each week to his
Mother the rest he saved. He knew he had a
lot of expenses
ahead. Although he was polite to his fellow colleagues and occasionally went
out with them to a cafe for tea or coffee, he didn’t want to make any real
friendships as he knew as soon as he could he would be leaving India.

Before
Kishore was born, his Aunt Bhamini (on his Father’s side) and Uncle Harilal
immigrated in 1956 as newlyweds to New Zealand having a yearning to settle in
another country. Canada, America or England was usually the first choice for
immigrants. Like most settlers Bhamini and Harilal wished to give their
intended children the chance to achieve - which was their main drawing card.
When researching to settle in another country, they were told of this ‘new’
land near Australia, a country so far away it was near the South Pole, a
country that promised great prospects and welcomed immigrants. Bhamini and
Harilal decided to choose New Zealand to start their married lives together, it
sounded to them as a land full of abundant opportunities.

They
travelled by ship which took three months, upon arrival they were to discover
they were one of the first Indian immigrants to arrive in this strange country.
There was no one to greet them and they knew no one. Bhamini and Harilal
struggled for acceptance in a country where Indians were relatively unknown.
They could not find anywhere that sold Indian spices, clothes or a place to
gather to celebrate Indian cultural activities. To their dismay they found
people shouted at them in an effort to make them understand English, regardless
of the fact they had been taught the Queen’s English
a
t
school
(Harilal knew more English than Bhamini)
and
they
were certainly not deaf. Although they were
to
soon realise
the Kiwi accent
and adaption of the English language was totally different to what they had
been taught.

They
settled in a small suburban street in West Auckland. Despite the immense
differences between India and New Zealand,
they
enjoyed the lifestyle and knew their children would have a good upbringing.
Their first baby arrived quickly followed by another and another. As they
became involved in their children’s kindergarten and school activities, they
began to make friends and life improved, even so, they still knew they were
outsiders.

Over
the years
as
many more Indians began immigrating to New Zealand,
the need for shops that sold Indian spices, food, fabrics and accessories
became
necessary
. Soon these places started popping up
in different communities. People of Indian heritage
regularly
me
t
up to gather to celebrate Indian cultural festivals.

During
Kishore’s childhood years, Bhamini and Harilal occasionally travelled back to
India with their New Zealand b
orn children to visit his family
. Kishore marvel
l
ed at his cousins funny accents and listened
intently to stories about their lives in a far off country. His Aunt and Uncle
brought gifts from their new homeland – kitchen cloths for his Mother, shirts
for his Father and biscuits and sweets for the children that they had never
seen or tasted before.

Kishore’s
eyes became wide with excitement and he was filled with amazement when his Aunt
told them
that
they shopped in a place called, Foodtown, Foodtown!
How could a whole town be full of food! It was beyond his imagination. It was
then a seed had been planted in Kishore and as he matured he became more
determined to join his Aunt and Uncle in that foreign land.

When
the time was right and with his Aunt’s encouragement and support
,
he decided to follow in their footsteps. Calling
her numerous times on the phone she told him the correct procedures he should
follow and all of the papers he would require. Finally, after two years of
arranging his funds, his passport, all of the appropriate documents and a plane
ticket, he was soon to be on his way, filled with excitement and more than a
little trepidation. Although the most challenging obstacle he had faced was convincing
his parents he was doing the right thing.

His
Father advised him moving to a new country was not as easy as it sounded, “You
will have to start all over again
,
” he said. “Here
in India you have all you need, your family, friends, an education and
employment, you will have to find work in a foreign country make new friends
and begin a new life.” He cautioned his son that life in New Zealand would be
totally opposite to anything and everything he had ever experienced. Despite
this
,
Kishore was determined to go, something more
powerful than him told him it was his karma.

In
the days leading up to the time he was due to leave his country, Kishore’s
family and friends became
terribly
sad. He knew he
would miss them all a great deal but being close to his Mother and remembering
how she had suffered when Kishore was a baby, he knew he would miss her the
most.

It
was still dark on the morning of the day he was due to begin his journey.
Kishore kept himself busy with his morning routine. As the sun rose it promised
a fine day, although the early morning showed a mist covering the city.

Once
he had bathed, dressed and eaten
,
he double and
triple checked he had all
that
he required for
his journey. When at last he considered himself ready he gathered up his luggage
and stood in the sitting room before his weeping Mother and Father. Kishore was
after all their first born son. They had been without him for so many years and
now they were going to lose him again, not knowing when they would next see
him. In their hearts they desperately did not want him to go. For his sake they
only spoke words of encouragement.
  

Kishore’s
Mother held his cheeks in her hands and spoke through her tears, “My bayta
(son) you must eat properly and call us as soon as you are able.”

His
Father shook Kishore’s hand then embraced him tightly, “Kishore remember who
you are and be wary of strangers,” he advised. Sorrowfully Kishore nodded in
agreement to each of their requests. He picked up his suitcase and said his
final goodbyes. Although he did feel sad
,
the anticipation of the excitement that lay ahead overpowered any thoughts of
unhappiness.

As
he strode downstairs to the waiting taxi he did not look back.

CHAPTER THREE

The Hindi word for hair is baal.

I
was glued to the TV as I watched the New Zealand model Lorraine Downes being
crowned Miss Universe. As she waved delicately at the camera with her blonde
hair, hazel eyes and a smile that dazzled, I thought no one on earth could come
close to being a Barbie doll brought to life. You may have heard the saying
‘Plain Jane,’ well that’s me, except, replace the name Jane with Julie. When I
studied my reflection in the mirror,
I would say to
the Julie staring back at me, “Well, my dear, there is nothing exciting about
you, this is as good as it gets.” And what did I see staring back at me? Red
hair, freckles and ordinary boring brown eyes, would I ever find a man who
thought I was
a
Lorraine Downes, a Miss Universe? The answer was a
downhearted, despairing…
‘No
.'

I
would never find love, who would or could love me? Make-up couldn’t hide my
freckles so I hardly bothered even trying to attempt to wear it, a smear of
lipstick was my idea of make-up. As for my hair, don’t get me started on my
hair, it was wavy and hard to manage at the best of times.

It
was even harder to look at myself in the mirror on rainy, muggy or humid days
when my hair was all over the place like a mop, seemingly having a mind of its
own. It frizzed with the humidity making it bushy and boofy and depression,
like a mantle fell over me. On these days I would avoid the mirror as much as
possible, hurriedly brush it and tie it up in a ponytail with a bundle of
hairclips, firmly pinning each strand onto my head. I hoped no loose curls
would escape to stick out and wave in the wind, triumphantly exclaiming, ‘Ha,
ha we are free!’

My
despondent mood grew worse as I foolishly compared myself to the singer Crystal
Gayle. As I watched her sing ‘
don’t it
make my brown eyes blue’
I was more captivated with her hair than her sultry
voice. Boy!
did
she have
alot
of hair! Straight, shiny, glossy and exceptionally long! As a
girl who wished for hair just like hers, I recklessly put my hand on my heart
and hastily vowed I would never cut my hair again. But in reality I knew my hair
would never be blonde like Lorraine Downes and as it seemed to grow out not
down, I would never have hair as long as Crystal Gayle
’
s.

I
was slim, at least that was a good thing and of average height - petite,
simple, ordinary features that once again added up to me being a ‘Plain Jane,'
there was nothing about me to stand out in a crowd. I got called all of the
usual things at school: carrot top, ginger nut, freckle face
and
oh yes
,
once I was even called a pixie. No man on the
planet would ever fall in love with a plain, boring, freckle faced, red headed
,
pixie!

Being
the youngest, my siblings, Andrew and Sarah had already paved the way for me.
Over the past few years I had watched quietly on the side-lines as they had
travelled through adolescence. They had waded through all manner of
trials
and tribulations that are part of a normal teenager’s existence. Quietly, I had
observed as, one by one, Andrew then Sarah had left home.
 

I
was four years younger than my sister, Mum had not planned on having any more
children after her, then unexpectedly, four years later along came a surprise -
me! My brother and sister had brown hair and brown eyes, the complete opposite
to me, they
looked
like siblings,
they
looked
like
our parents. When I was born Mum was astounded as she caught sight of my tuff
of red tresses. At family gatherings as I was the only person with hair the
colour of fire, the discussion invariably
ended up
being
about my possible heritage. Jokes were made about the milkman being a red head
and just what else had he been doing when he brought the milk? Someone else
suggested maybe my colouring was a throw-back from some Scottish ancestor but
really, no one knew.

During
my childhood my family occasionally attended our local Anglian church. We would
all arrive on a Sunday morning adorned in our best clothes. Sarah and I would
wriggle and complain as Mum had dressed us in
the
exact
same itchy frock. White, with lace and frills and a baby blue ribbon tied at
the waist, these special clothes were not allowed to be worn on any other day
of the week - they were clothes kept for Sunday best. After the main church
service, all of the children were ushered off to a separate part of the church
hall to attend Sunday school. Church was firstly a place to worship but it was
also a place to gather and meet with the residents of the neighbourhood, to
gossip, organise baking stalls and market days.

As
I matured I didn’t technically follow any religion seriously
,
though I did find solace in praying at night before
sleeping. Lying in bed with the covers pulled up, I would quietly place my
palms together and softly whisper. I believed in being positive so I prayed for
peace on earth and the end of famine and poverty. But most of all I fervently
prayed to meet a man: someone who was kind, sincere, loyal and honest.

Was
there anyone out there
who
would take me
on?