Julie & Kishore (5 page)

CHAPTER EIGHT

The Hindi word for heart is dil.

The
day after arriving in his new country Kishore again eagerly scanned the
Situations
Vacant columns in the New Zealand Herald. He nearly
missed it too but there in the small print was an advertisement for a junior at
McAllister and Co
.
Accountants, it
sounded promising. Kishore quickly picked up the phone and dialed the number.
After waiting a few minutes he was put through, to his surprise, to Mr Colin
McAllister himself and fate stepped in.

Kishore
arrived at the office of McAllister and Co
.
,
the day after. Ready for his interview he wore his best suit, in fact the only
suit he had brought with him from India. Clutched in his hand he held a folder
that contained his certificates and resume. Approaching the front desk he was
greeted by a smiling receptionist who introduced herself as Gillian. With the
click-clack of her heels on the wooden floor she led him to Mr McAllister’s
office. As Kishore stepped inside, Gillian left
,
closing the door behind her. Mr McAllister rose and extended his hand to shake
Kishore’s. He was a mature, stout man, with balding grey hair, a bushy
moustache and even bushier eyebrows
but his eyes
were kind.

From
the moment Kishore sat in the seat offered by Mr McAllister the interview was a
blur. He barely took more than a gla
n
ce at Kishore’s
credentials, being more interested in telling Kishore, he too was an immigrant
but from
Mother England
. That he was
a soldier in World War Two and had served in India. He happily regaled Kishore
with yarns of chai wallah’s and punka
wallah’s
.

With
Kishore barely saying a word other than “Hello,” Mr McAllister again stood and
was pumping his hand. Giving him back his file of certificates he declared,
“Well, Mr Patel, welcome aboard, we look forward to seeing you raring to go
Monday morning.”

For
two years Kishore happily immersed himself in his new life in New Zealand and
new employment. He had fared much better than some of his fellow immigrants who
had believed the message given out on the video about New Zealand being the
land of milk and honey. They were struggling to find work and understandably
anxious about their prospects.

 
One quiet unassuming day at work, he noticed a
fresh face about the place - a beautiful red-head chatting to Gillian, his
heart missed a few beats, she was stunning. She finished her conversation,
rotated on one foot - almost like a ballerina
and began to
walk towards Kishore. Smiling at him, her cheeks glowed as she breezed past,
leaving a trail of vanilla musk behind her.

Kishore
spun
his head
in her
direction
to
watch her walking down the corridor. Even from behind she
was
beautiful with her ponytail bouncing up and down in
a saucy fashion.
From that moment on Kishore was absolutely
captivated by her, besotted. In an instant he knew in his mind she was, ‘the
one.’

With
his heart beating a little faster than it should he decided to ask Gillian who
the girl was. When Kishore started working at McAllister and Co
.
, he very quickly learnt
that
Gillian
was the one to go to when you wanted to know something
or anything
.
With a gleam in her eye, Gillian told him, the red-head was the new office
supply person. From that day on
,
Kishore kept an
eye and ear out as to when the girl was due in the office. He made sure he was
around when she visited the other accountants, or
that he
was in
the
boardroom with Gillian when the red-head was giving
an update of the newest stationery products.

He
wasn’t sure whether what he was doing was stalking but Kishore convinced
himself he was just watching her. Well...maybe just a little bit of stalking.

Six
months went by with Kishore knowing the girls routine probably better than she
did herself. Each time she came to the office he practiced the lines he had
been rehearsing. Early in the morning, as he locked himself in the bathroom, he
studied his appearance in the mirror while shaving. He took on an expression
the same as the actor from that TV show he had been watching,
Miami Vice
, what was the guy’s name? Oh
yes, Don Johnson. With his lower face covered in shaving foam and razor in
hand, Kishore imitated the star, saying the lines he heard western men use when
asking a girl out,
‘Hi baby, would you like to go out for a drink
sometime?’ or ‘Hey sugar, how would you like to go to a movie?’
 

Sadly,
he always missed his chance and he found himself watching the girl complete her
tasks and leave the office. He kicked himself as each opportunity went by
without gaining the courage to speak to her.

To
his delight
,
his next chance arose one morning
when a little celebration was being
given for
Linda, a senior accountant of the firm who had just been promoted to second in
charge under Mr McAllister. All the staff, about ten people had gathered in the
lunch room
at morning tea time,
with Mr McAllister himself
producing a cake. Gillian, managing to escape the switchboard, hurried in,
carrying two Tupperware containers.

“Look
who I found,” she declared, giving Kishore a quick wink and a smile. His mouth
dropped open, trailing behind Gillian was her, the red-head. Setting the
containers on the table, next to the cake and a pile of serviettes, Gillian
took off the lids.

“I
made these last night,” she proclaimed, “Afghans and a chocolate slice, made
with weetbix.”

Kishore,
remembering to close his mouth managed a side-long glance at the red-head as
she shook Linda’s hand. He saw her pale-pink lips forming the word
congratulations. She seemed to be especially happy today she had a certain glow
to her cheeks.

He
frantically thought of things he could say to start a conversation, a lot of
people were in the lunchroom and she was right there in front of him, so it
should have been easy, ‘Would you like a piece of cake?’ or simply, ‘How are
you?’ Turning towards the table he picked up a serviette and an afghan, he
berated himself, ‘Come on Kishore, this is silly, just say hello.' He gathered
his strength and committed himself to the fact it was now or never. Holding his
breath, with the biscuit in his hand he turned back to look for her - but she
was gone. His eyes quickly scanned the lunchroom but she wasn’t there, he had
once again missed his chance.

Indian
boys are shy - he’d be the first to admit it. Despite this he was sure he’d
fallen in love with her. The thing he loved most was her
stunning
hair although her smile made him feel
all funny inside.

When
she came into the office, she was like a breath of fresh air, walking around
chatting to the other staff members, always cheerful and happy, so carefree and
easy going. Kishore knew she didn’t even know he existed. She smiled politely
at him but she had never even said his name. Even so
,
just looking at her was enough to make him hold his breath, his heart beat faster
and his palms go sweaty. These were the classic signs of a person falling in
love.

Kishore,
who had just turned twenty-three years old was of average height with cocoa
brown hair and eyes, his skin was caramel and smile broad. He was certainly
ready for a relationship and even though he had never had a girlfriend, he was
ready for marriage. He didn’t believe in going out with a girl, just to go out
with her. He knew when he finally met a girl he did like, in that way, it would
be with the intention of commitment for a lifetime. Since coming to New
Zealand, he had spent Friday and Saturday nights trying the nightclub, pub and
bar scene but it wasn’t for him. So he spent his weekends wandering around the
shopping malls alone, alone and bored but he had soon learnt this was not the
way to find a wife.

Having
almost given up on bars
he decided
on a
Friday
evening
to go
out one
last time. It was a last minute decision
but he hoped it would help take his mind off the red-head. Maybe luck would be
in his favour and he would meet someone, it could be he was wrong and he wasn’t
meant to be with her, possibly someone else would come into his life. Dressed
in jeans and a business shirt he entered the bar, Brandy’s. Sitting on a stool
he asked the bartender for a beer, Lion Red, the Kiwi man’s drink. He sipped it
slowly as he scanned the room trying to look like he had a purpose for being
there. It was quite busy - a noisy group of people were in one corner
,
laughing loudly, a halo of smoke hung above them.
The main door opened and Kishore glanced over, he couldn’t believe his bulging
eyes - he nearly dropped his drink, it was her, really her!
He lowered his head to compose himself
,
the
n
cautiously
peeked
in
her direction. He watched as one of the guys from the group in the corner
approached her. Kishore observed as she went and sat with them, his heart sank
like a rock swiftly falling to the bottom of the ocean as he thought this guy
must be her boyfriend. But, he decided something didn’t look right
,
she didn’t mix with them she sat poker faced
staring straight ahead. He realised that man couldn’t be her boyfriend, he
could tell from her body language she wasn’t having a good time. Why couldn’t
he just get up and go over to her? Wouldn’t that make him worthy of being her
boyfriend, a gallant knight rescuing a damsel in distress? Unfortunately, his
legs were like lead unable to move from his spot at the bar, he sat and watched
her as discreetly as he could for about an hour until he she rushed past him
and out the door.

During
Kishore’s childhood he had been surrounded by Indian women. Most of them
were
especially beautiful and graceful and as he grew
older he understood how hard they worked. His Mother worked all day, every day
doing her chores. Her main chore was cooking – Indian cooking is extremely time
consuming – every meal contains ginger, garlic and onions, each ingredient must
be peeled, chopped and fried, one by one. Kishore’s Mother performed this task
three times a day for each meal. Chopping, frying, adding spices, stirring,
then peeling and chopping again - this time it would be vegetables. She would
make the dough for the chapattis
(or roti, round
flat bread)
and then roll them out ready for cooking. Kishore watched his Mother a lot
while she was in the kitchen, which was almost all of the day. She made
pickles, sweet treats and dahl. When she wasn’t in the kitchen she would be
washing clothes by hand or sweeping the floor and tending to every need of her
husband and
four children.

Despite
his loneliness Kishore knew he didn’t want this in a wife. He wanted a partner
who was equal to him, a modern wife,
a
companion,
someone who did not want to spend her life in the kitchen. Kishore always
imagined his wife would be English and he also knew this would mean he would
choose his bride, not his family. He was determined not to go down the
traditional path of an arranged marriage.

Something
had drawn him to New Zealand and it wasn’t just financial gain. He knew in his
heart someone waited for him, someone he would love forever.

Kishore’s
parents knew their son’s bold uncharacteristic nature would make it impossible
for him to change his mind in regard to marriage. In fact, they knew their son
would choose his bride regardless of their intervention. In spite of that ache
in his heart for a companion, Kishore knew an Indian woman wasn’t meant for him
and in his heart he hoped the girl who day-by-day he was growing fonder and
fonder of, was.