‘What are you watching?’ Kulwinder asked.
Sarab was never unkind, just detached. An expression of mild irritation rippled across his features. ‘Just a television show,’ he replied.
Kulwinder retreated to her bedroom and drew a chair to the windowsill, watching the pavement below. Out of habit, she turned her head at an angle to keep Tarampal’s house in the furthest corner of her vision so it was just a pesky blur. A pair of grandmothers wearing woolly cardigans over their salwar kameezes dragged overflowing trolleys back from the market. Crossing their paths, a couple and their three small children formed a single-file line to let them pass. There were polite thanking nods between both parties. One of the old women reached out to stroke a child’s face and when the child turned her face up and smiled, an acute pain punctured Kulwinder’s heart. Did Sarab experience Maya’s loss in these same little ways? She couldn’t ask.
Across the road, a young woman came into Kulwinder’s view. She squinted and pressed her nose against the window. That hurried walk was unmistakably Nikki’s. What was she doing here? Nikki’s satchel bounced against her hip as she traipsed across the road. She was carrying a carton. Kulwinder craned her neck and saw Nikki ring the doorbell at Number 18. The door opened and Mrs Shah appeared. What did Nikki want from Mrs Shah? They spoke for a few moments and then Mrs Shah pointed to the house next door before retreating back into her home.
Number 16. Nikki had come to visit Tarampal. Kulwinder took in a breath and let her gaze follow Nikki to Tarampal’s doorstep. Her heartbeat accelerated; it was always like this when she came face to face with that walkway, that door. For weeks after Maya died, Kulwinder was haunted by visions of her walking in and never coming out.
Nikki rang the doorbell and waited. A few moments later, she placed the carton on the ground and knocked on the door. Kulwinder continued to watch as Nikki drew a notebook and pen from her bag and scrawled a note that she tucked into the carton. Reluctantly, she stepped off the porch, turning back a few times to see if Tarampal had materialized.
Kulwinder waited until Nikki was completely out of view, and then she hurried down the stairs. ‘Just going next door to say goodbye to the neighbours,’ she called over her shoulder.
Just as she was about to cross the road, Kulwinder stopped. What was she doing? She was curious to see what Nikki had left on the doorstep but was it worth the visit? Tarampal’s house drew and repelled her in equal measure, keeping her on the pavement switching her feet in a reluctant dance. It’s for your classes, she convinced herself. There was something shifty about Nikki and she needed to find out what it was before her classes were affected. She scrambled across the road, looking to her left and right for cars and nosy neighbours. The last thing she needed was somebody spotting her rooting through Tarampal’s belongings on her doorstep.
Nikki’s carton was not properly sealed because there were cassette tapes bulging out of the top, pushing through the flaps. Enid Blyton and Famous Five tapes. Kulwinder plucked the note from the carton. It was written hastily and the Gurmukhi spelling was all wrong, but Kulwinder got the gist of it.
(To Tarampal’s daughter: Please read this note to her. It is from Nikki) I’m very sorry about last lesson. Here are some story tapes so you can return to learning English.
Return to learning English? What exactly was going on in that class? Kulwinder replaced the note and hurried back to her house. Her heartbeat thrashed in her ears. She took out her phone and searched for Nikki’s number. It was a good thing she had thought to save it that night so she could call Nikki to reprimand her if she left the community building lights on again.
Kulwinder waited for her hands to stop shaking and then she typed a message.
Hello, Nikki. Letting you know that I will be in India longer than expected. Returning 30 March. Any issues please contact Sikh Community Association offices.
She pressed Send. Her return was actually scheduled for 27 March. That gave her three days to make a surprise drop-in on the classes to find out what Nikki and the women were up to.
Moments later, she received a reply from Nikki.
Okay! Have a good trip!
‘Let’s play a game,’ Manjeet suggested when Nikki entered the classroom. Nikki wasn’t listening – she was distracted by the sight of four elderly, white-clad women wandering the halls.
‘Does anyone know who those ladies are?’ Nikki asked. The women floated past the window. One pressed her wrinkly face against the panel and then pulled away.
‘They’re some friends of mine. They want to join in as well,’ Arvinder said.
‘So why don’t they come in?’ Nikki asked.
‘They will.’
‘They’re staring at us,’ Nikki said. A pair of eyes at the window met hers and then disappeared.
‘Let them make their own way,’ Arvinder said. ‘They’ve never been in a classroom before. The thought of telling these stories is very daunting.’
‘We told them there’s nothing to worry about,’ Preetam said. ‘They’re just a bit afraid of you.’
‘You’re too modern for them,’ Arvinder explained.
‘Too modern?’
‘You’re wearing jeans. You always wear jeans,’ said Preetam. ‘And everybody can see your bright pink bra because of the wide neck of that sweater.’
‘It’s off-shoulder,’ Sheena said in Nikki’s defence. ‘That’s the fashion.’
‘Fashion-fashion is fine for you young girls, and we don’t have a problem with it, but to these ultra-conservative ladies, you’re an alien,’ Arvinder said.
‘You might as well be English,’ Preetam said.
‘This is ridiculous,’ Nikki said. ‘It’s like we’re in a zoo enclosure.’ The women outside were taking turns to peer at her now. One scanned her from head to toe and then whispered to her friend.
‘Excuse me, Nikki. What is enclosure?’ Manjeet asked.
‘Like a cage,’ Nikki said.
‘Sometimes you mix the English words with the Punjabi words,’ Manjeet said.
‘That’s also a problem for you all?’ Nikki asked.
Manjeet nodded very apologetically.
‘And you’re not married,’ Preetam blurted out. ‘How are these women supposed to talk to someone about these intimate things when she’s not supposed to have experienced them?’
‘Are you getting married, Nikki?’ asked Manjeet. ‘Are you looking? You shouldn’t wait too long.’
‘When I decide to get married, Bibi Manjeet, you’ll be the first to know,’ Nikki replied.
‘Don’t do that,’ Arvinder said with a frown. ‘Tell your family first.’
‘That’s it,’ Nikki said. She marched to the door and opened it against the class’s rising protests. She gave the women her brightest smile and brought her palms together. ‘Good evening,’ she said. ‘Sat sri akal.’