Free THE IMMIGRANT by Manju Kapur

but no deep interest in Nina’s culinary skills, only questions about the places she had travelled and the things she had done. For a bride hunter she spoke much of herself, her old college, Miranda House, teachers, hostel, English Literature, her passion for reading, but above all it was husband, husband, children, children. The new emphasis on progress was keeping Ramesh very busy. Madam’s Twenty Point Programme was left to people like him to implement.
    The visit was an hour old before Alka said anything about that simple boy, her brother. After seven years still a paying guest. Orphaned, sensitive, brilliant, doing well, Canadian partner, own clinic.
    Then she drove off in an official white Ambassador, leaving them with the suggestion that a letter from the boy might follow.
    Mr Batra was jubilant. What culture, such sophistication, no suggestion that if Nina was thirty and unmarried there was something wrong with her, no appraisal of her daughter’s monetary worth; instead an appreciation that she was teaching English Literature in an elite college. With such a background, how could her daughter not be happy, how could she not?
    Nina was thoughtful. There had indeed been no hint of a demand for dowry or gifts, an issue which had caused some rejections. If anything her eye wandered approvingly over their meagre room, approvingly over Nina’s books in the verandah, approvingly over Nina herself, of medium height, of a fairness so exquisite that the natural yellow of an Indian skin was replaced by pinkness.
    ‘See, the astrologer was right,’ gloated the mother.
    ‘She made it quite clear that it depended on the brother.’
    ‘If she liked you so will he. What else does he have to go by?’
    Abroad. This was the first sign of interest shown by abroad. The grey cool skies of Brussels, the wide streets, the fewer people, the wood panelled library of the International Academy, the hot school lunches, the boy she had exchanged a few glances with, all this came back to Nina vividly, without the barrier of fifteen intervening years. As a first step to a new life, she murmured, ‘What will you do without me? Have you thought of that?’
    ‘I can do many things. I can go back to Lucknow.’
    ‘Lucknow? And live with those people?’
    ‘Why not? They are getting old. They need me.’
    ‘You are not their servant.’
    ‘Oh, what does it matter? After you marry, I can die happy.’
    ‘I don’t want you to die, nor do I want you living here alone.’
    ‘Once you are settled, I will come and visit you. And I can help look after your children. Help is very expensive there. I have experience of the West.’ Her cheeks glowed.
    ‘I don’t think we should count our chickens before we have seen the egg.’
    ‘This time everything will work out.’
    ‘So eager to send your daughter ten thousand miles away?’
    ‘For this I have been praying and fasting the last ten years,’ sniffed the mother as tears trickled down her withered face and smeared her work worn fingers as she rubbed them away.
    ‘If I get married promise me you will stop this ridiculous Tuesday fasting.’
    ‘We will see when the time comes.’
    v
    It took three weeks for Ananda to get the letter concerning this visit:
    They live in a one room unit in Jangpura. Though clean it is cramped and uncomfortable. The father was in the IFS and she has lived abroad. She studied French in Belgium, where her father was posted for four years. He died when she was fifteen, and life seems to have been a struggle since then. The mother is like Mummy, excellent cook, affectionate, simple. The girl is an only child with grandparents in Lucknow. You will not be bothered by numerous relatives trying to get sponsorship abroad.
    For the last nine years she has taught English at Miranda House; she spoke very knowledgeably of books, which will appeal to you. A career is important to her, you can decide later whether you want to be a double income family. Her voice is low, her