The Grand New Delhi Escapade

by Mary Page

Copyright © 2013. All rights reserved by Mary Page. Book Design/Layout by Kalpart. Visit www.kalpart.com No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information retrieval system, without the permission in writing of the publisher. Strategic Book Publishing and Rights Co. 12620 FM 1960, Suite A4-507 Houston TX 77065 www.sbpra.com ISBN: 978-1-62516-909-9

Acknowledgements I would like to thank my family for listening to all my stories and

encouraging me to do this. My boys, Jake and Morgan, who told tales and shared every good

book they ever read with me. All the teachers who have taught me the many skills that took to do

this. Rajiv Karran and family, who freely shared their life in India with

me, encouraged me, and gave me the spark to create this. To CopyPress, a company who believes in, encourages, and trains

writers.

Contents

Introduction ............................................................................................... 9 Chapter 1 A Change of Plans ............................................................ 13 Chapter 2 Meeting the Family .......................................................... 28 Chapter 3 Return to the Hospital ...................................................... 48 Chapter 4 Return to Simi’s Home .................................................... 68 Chapter 5 Safe House ......................................................................... 86 Chapter 6 Revelations ...................................................................... 106 Chapter 7 All Too Real .................................................................... 121 Chapter 8 The Third Day ................................................................. 135 Chapter 9 Presentation Day ............................................................. 144 Chapter 10 Meeting Raja ................................................................... 168 Chapter 11 Lotus Temple .................................................................. 184 Chapter 12 Celebrations ..................................................................... 196

9

Introduction

Bharat, or the country better known as India, comes as a paradox. Complexity and contradiction stand side by side and is tolerated. It has a large sophisticated society that produces some of the best-trained tech people in the world, and yet it also comes with a large population steeped in poverty.

Philosophy and spirituality interweave throughout the lives of Indians. The birthplace of two major religions, Hinduism and Buddhism, it plays host to various faiths and kindly incorporates their traditions and holidays into the culture. As many people have said or written, when one goes to India be prepared to change.

In India, life centers on family. Traits of human warmth, gentleness, politeness, and compassion pervade their life. Do not become surprised if you are entangled in a fierce debate on some Indian issue. Indians love their country passionately, and they will also tell you passionately what needs attention. Creativity and cooperation abound in its cities and rural areas. It is the world’s largest democracy. (United Nations http:// www.un.org/News/Press/docs/2012/ sgsm14259.doc.htm).

Its food, festivals, traditions, and honoring of elders show a diversity, unlike any other culture.

One cannot look at India only through western eyes. Mother India has never been western, and Mother India is not truly even eastern. Mother India is unique.

This book uses real places and attractions for the story’s setting. The interactions between characters are loosely based on a friendship developed with a family in India. Here are some facts about the most significant items in the book:

New Delhi New Delhi has many contrasts. Local influences, remnants of

colonialism, and modern cosmopolitanism mix in homes and in the

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streets. A tenement with an enclosure that has one entrance into the street is a typical building design, giving a balance of private and public. It also makes a strong sense of neighborhood since the buildings are similar to dorms in some ways.

The name of the city is lost in ancient Indian legends and associated with King Raja Dhilu. Delhi, new or old, has always been the center of ancient empires and powerful kingdoms. Situated about 100 miles south of the lofty Himalayas, hot summers feature many days near or over 100 degrees. Monsoon season brings rain and humidity. Winters are dry.

New Delhi functions essentially as two cities. Old Delhi occupies the north and, of course, is the historic part. New Delhi occupies the south and developed around 1947 when it became the capital of British India. Bisecting the city is the Yamuna River, which is a tributary of the holy river Ganges. New Delhi has become a big player in international finances and international corporations.

Older buildings come from the early Muslim period and are ornamented. Hindu motifs include serpents, ancient alphabets, and lotus-fringed arches and bricks. Later red sandstone surfaces with white marble are commonly found from the Khaljis period. Arches and styles that remind one of the Taj Mahal in Agra are prevalent. When the British occupied India in the twentieth century, modern architecture appeared. One trip would not be enough to see all the sites and experience the best India has to give in this city.

Sarojini Naidu Sarojini Naidu, known as “The Nightingale of India,” became a

writer and an activist early in the twentieth century. One of her outstanding accomplishments was her election to the Indian National Congress. Her exquisite poetry is still widely read in the East. A friend of Gandhi’s, Naidu’s part in anti-British activity earned her a few prison sentences, but it did strengthen the causes she supported in her lifetime.

Sarojini Market Located in southwest New Delhi, Sarojini Market features eateries

and major retailers with street-side shops selling a variety of wares at fantastic prices. Bargaining is allowed, so tourists and natives alike shop in the area. Most of the shops are family owned giving a person a bird’s eye view of merchandising and business in India. Most of the market is pedestrian traffic only.

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Jaipur About a three-hour drive west of New Delhi lies the Pink City known

as Jaipur. Entering the city from the east, an old fortress wall arises reminding one of India’s ancient days. This wall backs up to the Bissau Palace used in the novel. Hospitality comes as a major cultural component of any Indian metropolis, and Jaipur comes as no exception. No one knows for sure how the movement of terra cotta rose and pink-painted buildings started. Several theories have been put forward to date. Some say Lord Shiva’s favorite color was pink. Others mention that in the 1800s the Maharaja Sawai Ram Singh asked his subjects to make the city ready for a visit from British royalty. No matter what color the building, Jaipur is a city with many unusual and intriguing sites. Royalty, harems, art, and striking architecture make it a city to visit.

Bissau Palace Bissau Palace is a fascinating, colorful hotel. Built in the early 1920s

by Chieftain Rawal Raghubir Singhji, the palace housed literary works, elegant jewelry, and art. Rooms have different decors and beds. The courtyard has a checkerboard floor, murals, and elephant statues. Located just outside the fort wall of Jaipur, the palace has a distinctive curved design in the front that announces it is a different place to stay. It is close to many other compelling sights in the Pink City.

Ashok Hotel One of the earliest five-star hotels, Ashok Hotel’s design of rose

colored walls stands in contrast to its surroundings. It caters to international travelers and locals seeking world-class accommodations. Ashok Hotel is in a prime location in Delhi’s Diplomatic Enclave. A convention hall, a banquet hall, and twenty-five acres offer plenty of room for any event or activity.

Bhairon Temple Bhairon Temple on the outside appears as a medieval fort. It honors

Lord Bhairav. Open daily, prayer and worship services are held for the population here. According to www.bhairav.org, Lord Bhairav is a form of Lord Shiva and some of his assignments are time management, taking care of dogs, and protecting travelers.

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Lotus Temple Lotus Temple is known as the Mother Temple of India. Made by

designer Fariborz Sahba to arouse the emotions of peace and harmony, the temple does that. The number nine is a central motif of the towering structure. Around the temple are nine ponds, and nine doors allow entry into the temple and lead to a central hall. The Bahai faith considers the number nine sacred because it represents the nine faiths of the world. The temple is dedicated to all nine religions that honor the sole God.

13

Chapter 1 A Change of Plans

Sharlene stared out of the embassy window watching the throngs of Indians bustle about their daily activities. Around the embassy, the grounds gleamed immaculate and modern.

“Dad, let’s go to the market today,” said Sharlene. Cocking his head slightly left with a half-smile half-grimace he gently

spoke, “Sharlene, you know we are on alert for possible bombings in New Delhi, and the markets are a target here sometimes.”

“Are we going to hide inside the embassy and let the bad guys win?” asked Sharlene.

“Sharlene,” paused Dad, “it is not that simple. I hate it when you use my own words against me.” He walked over to his desk and began shuffling papers.

“This training this morning with the Indian National Control AIDS program is likely to run over. I want to discuss more about the system of distribution with my medical supply project. The model is coming together with all the help from my Indian colleagues. We are creating a system to increase access to medical supplies, equipment, and pharmaceuticals in rural areas and I . . .”

Sajiv came into the room and Dad turned to greet him. His smile contrasted to what was in Sajiv’s hand—more papers, more work, a longer meeting, and no trip to the market as Dad had predicted.

“CDC papers you will need, sir,” Sajiv said as he walked over with the papers. Dr. McGowan slowly took the papers and read them while Sajiv politely nodded his head towards Sharlene.

Sharlene froze for a moment as his dark eyes centered on her. The whiff of his musty patchouli aftershave took her breath away—it was

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alarming to her, but fascinating at the same time. Sharlene had met Sajiv only a few times, always in formal embassy or office situations. She did not understand why her senses reacted to him that way or why his stare bothered her. Most of what Sharlene knew about Sajiv came from her Dad talking about him, which was extremely positive. His project management skills made her Dad’s life much smoother and better. Dr. McGowan recognized them and gave Sajiv partial credit for his successes in India. He would often state that if Sajiv did not keep him on task, he would never get much accomplished.

Mom used to do that for him, thought Sharlene. But then she cut off the thought before it went any further.

“You see,” Dad beamed in some imaginary triumph holding the papers high, “there is no way I will take you to a market today.”

“But Dad! I have been cooped up for three days. Criminals aren’t everywhere,” moaned Sharlene, “Besides you send security people wherever I go whether I ask for them or not.”

Dad interjected, “Those security people aren’t available to…” “I am available to take her, sir. I have proper embassy credentials

for such work,” said Sajiv. Dad glanced at Sajiv, and Sharlene saw something pass between

them. After a moment, Sajiv spoke quietly, “It would not be a problem to take Sharlene to the market, sir.”

“She is probably safer with you than anyone, Sajiv,” said Dr. McGowan returning to viewing the papers Sajiv had brought in earlier.

Bewildered that her Dad agreed to her proposal, Sharlene turned and looked into her Dad’s eyes. There were no hints showing the reason for the sudden change of mind. Sharlene chalked it up to good karma and accepted the gift for today, as her tutor, Mr. Suresh, had instructed her to do when life turned your way.

Suddenly, her Dad broke his gaze away from his papers and turned back towards Sajiv, “Keep her safe, especially from herself. Sharlene always was a curious child.” Swiftly his gaze pivoted right back to Sharlene.

Sharlene exhaled sharply. Curious child was a phrase her mom used, but it had become bittersweet since she had died three years ago. Sharlene’s feelings were mixed when her Dad used it. She liked it in the first moments and then a cloud of pain would enter her mind as she remembered her mom.

“I have to go,” Dad stated gently as he grabbed Sharlene by the

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shoulders and kissed her firmly on the forehead. His reddish grey beard and mustache tickled, and she liked it. In a moment, he was gone.

“Anything you need to do, Sharlene?” Sajiv leaned forward and gave a polite smile.

“Hmmm, I don’t think so,” answered Sharlene, cautiously. She was not sure she wanted to go anywhere with Sajiv. She was becoming uncomfortable again.

“Let’s go,” Sajiv said as if he had read her thoughts. Sharlene hesitated for a second, but if she wanted to go to the

market, he was her only chance. Grabbing her purse, Sharlene walked out into the hallway and Sajiv escorted her into a waiting car. Sharlene began to wonder if Sajiv had intentionally planned an excursion to keep her occupied while her Dad was held up in meetings. Why else would the decision to escort her and the car happen so quickly as if planned?

Within moments, the car pulled out of the embassy complex and on to the streets of New Delhi. The city housed everyone from professional office workers, foreigners of many nationalities, side-street vendors, and even holy men. A cacophony of sound echoed forth announcing a modern, lively city with the hum of motorcycles; loud tractors and people meandered and talked in the middle of the street. Elephants real and sculptured would appear framed in the car window as an interesting painting. Carriages with large, bicycle-like wheels, known as rickshaws would slide slowly by though a driver was furiously pumping the pedals. Views of dingy-colored buildings gave way to spectacular displays of ornate architecture palaces intricately painted in Eastern designs and thought.

Sharlene pondered that in India, a pattern of modern and ancient stood side by side making contradictory and complex statements in about any area one wished to examine. Instead of chaos and distress like is sometimes seen in the Western world with such incongruences present, Sharlene found Indians had an acceptance of circumstances that exuded a calmness on those around them. The Indians she knew were delightful, and pleasant, always taking the time to give hospitality, take care of needs, or inquire about family with extensive questioning. Then Sharlene reminded herself the Indians she knew were mostly middle class and professional level. She had seen the other side of passionate raving and sometimes interesting manipulations that she did not fully understand yet. Either way, one learned to take their time in India.

Sharlene looked down and pondered why had her Dad caved in so easily.

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“Sajiv, is there something going on?” asked Sharlene. “Nothing unusual, just the normal activities—good and bad—of

any Indian’s life,” replied Sajiv. “Okay,” mouthed Sharlene. “Hungry? Shopping?” Sajiv added pleasantly. “I would like to look for clothes, maybe some jewelry, or something

for Dad. I don’t know. I really wanted Dad to take me,” answered Sharlene.

“We will go to Sarojini Nagur Market then,” Sajiv instructed the driver.

In a short time, the car pulled up to the carmine red exterior of the New Delhi Library. Its arched doorway and narrow, rectangular windows contrasted sharply with the grey sidewalks and street on H Block. Sarojini Nagar Market honored the freedom fighter Sarojini Naidu, who eventually became the first female president of the Indian National Congress. Most people knew the market as a place for trendy clothes, electronics, and crafts at rock bottom prices but had no idea about what the name represented.

Sajiv steered Sharlene through the throng of foreigners and Indians carrying on business and conversation. The scent of the tikkis potato cakes and fruit flavors of ice cream-like kulfis filled the air. As they rounded the next block, the sign for Alpana Traders came into view. Sharlene entered and began to look at the displays of merchandise.

“Sajiv, Sajiv,” a small group of young men called out. Sharlene continued to explore the merchandise, but continued listening with one ear.

“Are you coming to play Sunday? We should have a good cricket match with you there,” said the tallest man with a neatly trimmed beard and mustache.

“I look forward to it, Ahan. You should prepare by pumping iron in the gym. It will help your endurance,” laughed Sajiv.

Without warning, the shop began to shake. Looking at each other, Sharlene and Sajiv both heard the boom, loud, thunder-like, and terrifying. Merchandise flew off the shelves. Sharlene plunged herself into an open space on the floor. Before tucking her head and encasing herself in her arms, Sharlene saw Sajiv coming towards her. In a moment Sajiv had enveloped her, shielding her from the onslaught.

The word “bomb” crept into Sharlene’s mind.

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Angst tore at her as she began to realize what had happened. The warnings from that morning had been justified.

Turning upward, she mewed softly, “Dad.” Sajiv’s normal, steady gaze faltered for a second, and Sharlene

suddenly understood why Dad had allowed her to go out to the market. Sharlene and Sajiv got up. The friends Sajiv had been talking to

streamed out into the street, pointing northwest in the direction of the embassy. Stepping out, Sharlene saw billowing smoke curled up into the sky. Her stomach tightened; her heart raced.

The ring of Sajiv’s cell phone startled Sharlene. A conversation in Hindi began while Sharlene stayed fixated on the rising smoke.

After a few moments, Sajiv turned to Sharlene and said softly, “The embassy was bombed. Not a normal affair. I will take you to a friend’s home. It is not far.”

“No, no, no …” murmured Sharlene. Her mind could not wrap around the thought that she might have lost her Dad. Sajiv grabbed her arm firmly and led her through the scattering crowd. She protested by pulling away, wanting to head in the direction of the embassy. Sajiv glared as he brought her in closer, wrapping his arm around her.

“We cannot stay here. You cannot go back to the embassy yet. Do not do that again, Sharlene. I have to get us to safety. Why do you have to make things so difficult? Now follow,” demanded Sajiv.

Surprised, Sharlene could only respond with a head nod. She followed.

They had been on the southern edge of the market, not too far from Vinay Nagar Bengali School with its red exterior, black wrought iron gates, and metalwork. Past the school resided middle-class neighborhoods with guesthouses and flats. Sharlene followed Sajiv down the back alleyways observing their small backyards and open fencing. Occasionally, the apartment flats gave way to small homes. Sharlene, having no idea where they were, stopped not knowing what to do.

“I want to go see about Dad. Can we just stop for a minute and call someone?” protested Sharlene, crossing her arms across her chest.

Standing in front of her, Sajiv stared into her eyes with the intensity of a tiger after some prey and spoke through a stone cold set mouth and a voice that meant business.

“Sharlene, my first concern is to get us to safety. Nothing is to be

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gained by going to the embassy. Now, would you please cooperate? The home is near the end of the lane. The quicker I can get you to safety, the quicker I can find out what happened to Dr. McGowan.”

In moments, they were in front of a home of brown and yellow. Two columns with intricate carvings arose out of a set of small concrete stairs. A carport, which was built into the design of the house, arched gracefully to a set of trees. Calm, peaceful, and elegantly simple, the house was the opposite of what Sharlene imagined the embassy must look like.

Sajiv’s phone rang while they climbed the small set of stairs to the front porch. Bracing herself against the carved post, Sharlene closed her eyes and hoped it would all go away. The lilting sound of Hindi gave her little clue about the discussion.

Sajiv ended the phone call and grimly reported, “Your Dad is on his way to the hospital. No life threatening injuries, but still a bloody mess. I cannot say the same for some of the others.”

Sharlene collapsed in a heap and began to cry. Relief flooded through her. Her Dad was alive, but fears about tomorrow rushed over her. The alerts and warnings no longer felt useless, but were real—too real. Sharlene had not seen the damage yet, but her imagination created scene after scene of mayhem. Closing her eyes set visual pictures rolling again, but opening her eyes meant she might see a reality she did not choose. Her thinking was interrupted by Sajiv.

“A driver is on his way here. We’ll go to the hospital,” said Sajiv, sitting down beside her.

In a few minutes, a large black car pulled up. Sajiv walked to the driver’s window and had a terse conversation with him. Sharlene could not understand what they were talking about since it was in one of the many Indian languages she was not familiar with. She knew it was not Hindi. Most educated Indians spoke several languages well. Sharlene had just started learning conversational Hindi from her tutor, Mr. Suresh, but she was far from being able to carry on a real conversation. On a short walk down any Indian street, one would hear English and other languages mixed quite frequently. Often, Indians would say to each other “Could you please say it in Tamil or Telugu for me?” She climbed into the backseat and waited. Sajiv took the other seat beside her.

“Your father is at Max Super Specialty Hospital on the south side of the city. We are not too far from it," said Sajiv.

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“So, did you know that the embassy was under threat? Is that why Dad let you take me to the market? To make sure I was out of the way? You could have just told me.” sputtered Sharlene.

“In India, alerts happen often. Most of the time Americans are not the target, but these people target markets and tourist areas to get attention. Embassies are not usually targeted because of security and the possibility of foreign intervention, though several months ago there was a car bomb on an Israeli diplomat vehicle in another city. It is more about issues back in their home and bringing it here. Not like today. This was different. Very different. No specific threat against the embassy—just a feeling on your Dad’s part,” said Sajiv.

Sharlene glared for a moment, then looked out the window. They had turned onto Aurobindo Marg Freeway. The tree-lined boulevard calmed her nerves a bit. In her previous excursions around New Delhi, Sharlene noticed many parks and many trees. Unlike the images presented back in the States that emphasized India’s poverty, here you could see a respect for greenery and space needs of people here. The poverty was present, especially in the rural areas, and Sharlene had seen it, but that was not what India was all about. Some of her cities rivaled American’s best, like Bangalore with its gleaming skyscrapers, high tech economy, and extremely well-educated population. In these cities corporations functioned as government entities seeing to the needs of the population as a side product of seeing to the needs of its employees. It was one of the many alternative solutions India had developed to deal with its burgeoning population and infrastructure needs.

She could not decide if she was hurt, mad, or scared. Maybe it was all three at the same time. Sajiv had been kind to take her to the market, but right now he was the only one available to aim her feelings at. Thoughts crept in that Dad had been overprotective before, but now with an attack on the embassy, Sharlene knew even more precautions and more escorts were imminent.

“How much longer?” asked Sharlene. “We are turning onto Press Enclave Marg now. Sharlene, it may

take some time to get in. I do not know who was brought there or how many. If they have not fully examined your father, then that too may take some time. This is not America. We do things differently, even when passing on information,” Sajiv said quietly.

Not wanting to argue or cry, Sharlene began taking deep breaths while picking at her fingers. She had been in India two and a half years and in some ways she had not fully adapted to its ways and responses.

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Every day she was fully aware that her life had changed radically with the death of her mom, and she did not like depending on others for her needs. If Sajiv had not been with her, she knew she would have been at a loss on what to do and whom to contact.

Sharlene wondered when she was ever going to become independent again. A rebellion of epic proportions would burn in her soul. It truly was not directed at Sajiv; it was some hidden trigger she did not understand that would rise up in a fury and cloud her mind. The only thing she had discovered to abate it was to breathe deeply and rhythmically while picking some minor action to busy herself with till the storm had passed.

Her mind clearing a bit Sharlene glanced over to see Sajiv had busied himself with his Galaxy Samsung phone. Sharlene sighed and looked out her window once more. Press Enclave went from trees to houses and flat buildings. Looking up, she saw a large, pale yellow, mint green building bustling with police, ambulances, and medical personnel. The reality that her Dad was injured injected into her thoughts. She pushed her tongue up against the roof of her mouth as she tried to find some inner strength to keep the tears from rising up. Despite the effort, her eyes misted up; she squeezed them hard to make it stop. Before she could turn to hide, she felt Sajiv brush against her arm. He held a handkerchief close to her face as if he already knew she was losing the battle with her tears. As the first tear trickled down, Sajiv gently pressed the handkerchief to her cheek. She looked questioningly at Sajiv disturbed by the fact that, despite his outside demeanor during the last few minutes, inside he knew exactly what was going on with her. Looking deeply into his eyes it conveyed nothing other than the usual calmness. Sharlene reached up and took the hanky.

The driver had pulled up along a serene side street by the hospital. Thankfully, that stopped the flow of tears. Sharlene did not get out of the car right away. Sajiv had quickly exited and rounded the back fender on her side. Sharlene waited as she guessed what he was about to do. She took the time to find a speck of peace within her; she needed her composure to navigate through the chaos. Sajiv opened the door and Sharlene got out, keeping her eyes focused on the ground as he walked ahead of her. She looked at the heels of his black shoes and just followed.

Sajiv finally got his wish. Here I am, just following him, thought Sharlene.

The fact that he made those demands made her want to defy him. In

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order to distract herself, she began to muse about how she would cleverly disobey him in the future, when he least expected it. Sharlene reflected on why this wanting of disobedience kept gnawing at her today. Having a mother die had brought lots of sympathy, but the price often was a smothering and a curtailing of freedom she had found confining. The move to India had been exciting, but being a daughter of an embassy employee meant giving in to protocols and procedures. To do what Sharlene wanted to do meant getting endless permissions spoken and unspoken. About the time she felt free, something or someone would remind her she was being carefully watched. Neither her mom nor her grandmother had ever been the watched-over or submissive types. They spoke their mind, debated, and did what they wanted to do. They both had manners that made it charming for the most part. Sharlene missed her mom deeply. How they charmed, how they had managed to become such accomplished women in a male-dominated world was not apparent to her. Since becoming this age male attention had increased. Sharlene was dealing with men who attempted to manipulate her because she was young. The rules of engagement were different in India, and to complicate matters she was American. Sajiv had not tried to manipulate her, but was simply trying to take care of things in an unusual situation. She did not know why the rebellion had popped up or why she would feel uncomfortable around him sometimes as if she was about to be captured. Sharlene decided since the events of the day had made her especially vulnerable that rebellion was a way to protect herself from what she did not understand. For now, seeing her Dad overrode any urge to be openly irritated.

For a few moments, they were surrounded by chaos. She could hear people moaning in pain, the clattering of wheels on pavement, and medical beds scurrying to unload patients from ambulances. Security was barking and directing people.

She glanced up and saw one of the assigned security detail men from the embassy who had frequently escorted her around town when her Dad was not available. Sharlene wished she had kept her eyes on the ground like she originally intended. His hair was matted with blood and his impeccable “Men in Black suit” was covered with some grayish white substance that made him look like a zombie from “Shaun of the Dead,” except this time it was not funny.

Surprisingly, her stomach lurched and reminded her in all the frenzy that she was hungry and nauseated at the same time. Sajiv clasped her forearm—the same way he had in the alleyway earlier—and turned her

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in the opposite direction. Suddenly, he pushed them through a doorway and the sound of chaos changed into the quiet, but no less menacing, sounds of a hospital corridor.

Sajiv walked intently down the corridor to the nurses’ station. The light yellowish, beige walls with contrasting medium grain wood were somehow soothing. After showing his embassy employee ID and talking to the staff, Sajiv turned back to Sharlene.

“He has not been admitted yet. They are prioritizing patients. I know your Dad is here. It might be best to find a spot to sit until they officially admit him. Then we will go find him,” Sajiv explained.

Sharlene stared, unable to speak. A heavy fog had descended upon her thinking. She felt lost and tired. Everything had come too fast and was too difficult for her to fully process.

“Where is the cafeteria or the vending machines?” Sajiv asked the nurses.

A nurse in a long, white coat and kind face answered Sajiv. Sharlene bit her lip and realized how ravenously hungry she was now that the nausea had passed.

She felt her emotional state could not stand up to gallivanting around the hospital corridors shouting out “Dr. McGowan!” in every room and down every hallway. If she had the energy, she would have done just that. Sharlene decided to keep her lips closed and follow as instructed. She could add this to her mental list of ways to intentionally disobey Sajiv just because he was present, and his nature was such he would not over react despite her antics. Her Dad, like an absent-minded professor, would often work so hard at thinking he was known to read papers and walk into things. One time he had nearly lost his life in a parking lot, since he was walking and reading at the same time, because he did not see a teenage driver racing in the aisle way that he was meandering in. The only thing that had saved him was her mom noticing the oncoming disaster and shoving his shoulder so fiercely that he tumbled forward on to the curb with her falling on top of him to save herself. Sharlene had watched the whole thing in horror from the sidewalk. Instead of immediately getting up, her parents proceeded to laugh uproariously as her mom forbid him to ever read any papers in the parking lot ever again. From this Sharlene had learned that men such as her father, whose passion exceeded common sense, had to be watched and guarded. Since her mom’s death she had taken on that role, but lately she had seen Sajiv doing that for her Dad. It suddenly dawned on her maybe part of her rebellion against him was the need to remind him

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that was her job. The thought of this satisfied her need to go save her father from the doctor’s poking and prodding. Sharlene could not shake off the feeling that, if she had been at the embassy, somehow she would have delayed her father and saved him.

Sajiv looked directly at her but did not speak. Her body language must have let him know that she would be a sheep and follow. Sajiv led off in a different direction from which they came, and soon they were at a set of elevators. In this part of the hospital there was no hint of the chaos outside. Sharlene supposed they were all still in the emergency room, and she hoped the bloody security person had taken the time to get treatment. His face and wounds haunted her.

Entering the elevator, Sajiv seemed to know exactly where they were going. He was always like that—even at the embassy. Always on his way somewhere to help someone, intensely focused on doing his duties. She had much more chaos in her; she wanted life to pleasantly surprise her and not have everything planned out. Sajiv seemed to have everything under control and well planned in advance even with the day’s events. He knew what to do as if he sat around thinking up scenarios and coming up with plans and solutions. Sajiv reminded her of a champion chess player who knew ten moves ahead who was going to win. She did not see the point in playing the game if everything was already decided. Sharlene often pondered how to totally disrupt everything without getting caught. She wanted to do that with Sajiv right now, since she was in turmoil. He was so blasted calm.

Down another hallway and around a corner, they found a set of vending machines with snacks and drinks. Sajiv pressed buttons and received banana chips and bataka vada—a mixed vegetable snack with green chilies and spices. The next machine offered soda. A nursing station and an array of seats were located down the hall, and a few patients in wheelchairs were scattered across the corridor. This floor was more active than the other. They took a set of seats isolated from the others.

The heaviness of the day fell upon Sharlene’s shoulders as the adrenaline rush from worry subsided. She had observed that about hospitals. One came in usually upset or at least anxious, but the quietness of the corridors, the smell of cleanliness, the coloring of the walls worked to quiet one outwardly.

Watching faces, though, reminded her that the worries were all still there—just more manageable now, somehow.

There she sat in a hospital again, just like when her mother had died.

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Nothing could be done to help. All the medicine in the world could not undo what a hit and run driver had done in seconds. Sharlene quickly reminded herself this was not the States or her mom, but her Dad who she knew was alive. It always happens when she was around doctors or hospitals. Her Dad had always been with her for such before and they would talk. She slowly began to eat the nuts, drink, and swizzle the soda. Since her Dad was not available, she decided to have the conversation of loss and coping with Sajiv. If he was going to take on some of her Dad’s duties, he might as well understand the full force of it.

“Sajiv, have you ever lost anyone?” quietly asked Sharlene. “Lost, as in cannot find or something else?” said Sajiv. “Lost as in died,” whispered Sharlene. “Your father told me about your mom. Yes, I lost my father right

after I graduated from college. He had worked hard to put me through my studies and was proud. I am glad he saw me finish,” replied Sajiv.

Changing subjects Sharlene asked, “So how long have you been at the embassy?”

“I have worked there three years for different people. I started as an intern in my last year of college. I worked in the health offices for one year,” Sajiv spoke while turning to face her more directly.

“Do you get along with my Dad?” inquired Sharlene. Sajiv stared at her for a while, almost making her uncomfortable

again. He carefully answered, “We have a working relationship. Your father is a good man and you should respect him more.”

Sharlene sharply inhaled. She had noticed that things were a bit different in India when talking about family. A system of respect and courtesies were in place, especially when talking about parents. Sharlene had learned in the early months, after mentioning that grandma had been put in an assisted living place in the last year of life, that was a major sticking point in American and Indian relationships. Parents often lived with their adult children and ran the households well up into the senior years. One of her Dad’s colleagues at an embassy function had informed her parents were to be taken care of in the home and not put away somewhere. He was rather passionate about it, insisting how dishonorable it was to do that to your parents. There was no common ground on that piece of cultural exchange.

“I’m just trying to have a conversation. That’s all. I love, respect, and honor my Dad. I just don’t like being cooped up all the time,” Sharlene explained.

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“In my eyes, your father takes good care of you. Would you want him to be unconcerned?” asked Sajiv.

“No.” “Let me check once more to see if your father has been taken to a

room,” declared Sajiv. Sajiv got up and went to the nurses’ station. Sharlene did not know how to feel. The few times she had spoken to Sajiv for any length of time, he always left her feeling unsettled. Her strong physical reaction to him earlier that day perturbed her even more. “Twas a puzzlement,” like the King of Siam said in the play she had been in back in the States called “The King and I.” Too tired to ponder further, Sharlene got up and waited for directions.

Sajiv turned and repeated the number 342. He pointed in the direction of the vending machines. Not able to change the dynamics of the situation at hand, Sharlene sighed, closed her eyes, and said, “Your wish is my command.”

Sajiv took one look at her and smirked. He turned and walked so quickly down the corridor that Sharlene had to run to keep up. Then they were back at the elevators. Her chest heaved as she tried holding back her breath so Sajiv would not notice. He noticed. She could tell by the smile of his closed lips.

“Out of breath?” Sajiv asked casually. “A bit,” stated Sharlene. Sajiv pressed the button for the elevator to go up. Now Sharlene

was irritated instead of uncomfortable. In seconds the doors opened and she followed on Sajiv’s heel past

the nurses’ station down another corridor. This one had nurses walking behind carts carrying medicines and other hospital supplies. Sajiv veered to the left, knocked twice, and entered a room. A moment of panic filled Sharlene as she realized her Dad was not going to look like he did this morning—intense, fatherly, and always concentrated on fixing things.

Sajiv stepped aside and she saw the heart monitor cart and IV in her Dad’s arm. His face was battered and bruised with a purplish-blue, black eye. His hair had been partially shaved; the set of stitches placed at the top of his head reminded her of Poseidon’s trident from “The Little Mermaid.” She would watch that with her Dad over and over again when she was young.

Her Dad turned to focus on her. He reached up an arm from underneath the sheet and she saw it was bruised badly as well. “Hello, Sharlene. Did you enjoy the market?”

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She rushed over and began to stroke his bruised arm, mumbling an apology for her bratty behavior that morning. Before she could make any other confessions, her Dad pulled on her arm as he propped himself up in the bed. He placed his hand on her face—like always—and kissed her on the forehead. Sharlene stayed there for a moment and thought of all the times he had touched and kissed her that way. She was glad that there would be many more kisses from her Dad.

Suddenly, her Dad’s business-like demeanor resurfaced as he glanced over at Sajiv. Sharlene remembered Sajiv was in the room and she wondered why she had forgotten that.

“We lost Dr. Meera and Amirthavalli. The explosion came from outside. I was getting ready to enter the meeting room when the door exploded outwards, and I was thrown to the side. Dr. Romer and Smarth sustained serious injuries from the glass and debris. Most of the building is intact. The front offices and meeting rooms took most of the hit,” said Dr. McGowan.

“My information from security is that it was a car bomb, sir. I have not been back to the embassy. I escorted Sharlene to safety,” replied Sajiv.

“That could not have been an easy job, “exclaimed Dad with an upward glance at Sharlene.

“Dad.” “Sharlene, you are my daughter, so I’m sure you did everything you

could to get back to the embassy.” Turning to Sajiv Dad added, “I suppose she was uncooperative.” “Sharlene is no problem. A few kind words and some direction and

she becomes pleasant to work with,” said Sajiv. “Hey you two! Do you realize I’m standing right here, hearing every

word? Besides Dad, I was worried. Look what happened. I should have…”

Before she could finish, Dad interrupted, “Sharlene, the best thing that happened was you went to the market.”

A man in a white coat appeared in the room. “Dr. McGowan?” “Yes.” “I am Dr. Kumar. I am following up on what the emergency room

did. I’d like to check your vitals and wounds.” “Time to go, Sharlene,” said Dr. McGowan. “I have a family friend nearby, sir. Sharlene can stay there if other

arrangements have not been made,” said Sajiv.

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“No, Dad. I want to go to our home in Rama Krishna Puram Sector since the embassy where we spend most of our time is not available. Please.”

“Sharlene, until we know more about what is going on in New Delhi I do not want you alone. I’m sure the authorities are going to be asking me questions. I only have so much energy. Please go with Sajiv. You are safer with him than anyone else,” instructed Dr. McGowan.

“Why do you keep saying that, Dad? Like he is some kind of super-secret bodyguard,” lamented Sharlene.

Sajiv and Dr. McGowan exchanged one of those looks that sent an unspoken message and made an agreement. Silence. More silence. Oh no thought Sharlene. An idea she dreaded flashed before her eyes. She was going to be the only teenager who never got to be young and always held back by escorts and rules. After dealing with Sajiv today, she was not sure she wanted to get friendly with him. She suspected that more interaction would agitate her into a debate on some topic that she hoped would perturb him. But more than likely, it would only get her in trouble.

“Go. Now Sharlene. You can either go with Sajiv or I will ring up one of the official bodyguards to deal with you, and we all know how much you like them. I will pick Mr. Kapoor. You know, he still talks about your sneaking off to the Central City Mall…”

“Okay, okay. I will go with Sajiv,” agreed Sharlene. Sharlene recalled the incident quite well. Mr. Kapoor had suggested

how he would put her on lockdown the next time he was assigned as her bodyguard. She had not been too worried, since she could avoid him by using different security personnel. She was imprisoned enough as it was, and she certainly did not want Mr. Kapoor setting a precedent. Sharlene’s shoulders slumped and she slowly shuffled towards Sajiv. That was all her Dad needed to lie back down and let the doctor check on him. Sajiv smiled like he had found the ultimate solution to some problem that was about to be solved permanently.

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