Home for Chirappu

by Ariel Tachna

  “He’s not involved with ‘an American,’ though. He’s involved with you.”

  “I’m American,” Trent reminded her.

  “Yes, but you took your shoes off at my door last night without anyone having to tell you. You ate with your hands—your right hand, not your left—at dinner last night with obvious familiarity. You liked my pavakka, and I know that isn’t something you had in Chicago because Nikhilesh doesn’t like it. You may have an American passport, but you don’t use that as an excuse to be arrogant or condescending. You respect our ways, or you have so far. That’s a far cry from being involved with ‘an American.’ He came home, Trent. We all know we have you to thank for that. If anything, we want to make a good impression on you.”

  Trent wasn’t sure what to say to that. He had viewed the trip as a test, but if Susheela aunty was to be believed, Nik’s family saw it as a test for them, not for him. As if alienating him might keep Nik from coming home again.

  “Aunty, lunch is ready!”

  Trent looked back toward the house to see Nandini standing on the back stoop waving at them.

  “Shall we go eat?” Susheela aunty asked. “Chechi made shrimp fry and kachiamoru. You’re in for a treat.”

  NANDINI LEFT almost as soon as lunch was over, but everyone else settled in the main room with tea.

  “Do you want to go into town before Chirappu starts?” Leelavati asked after a few minutes. “If so, you should go soon, while the shops are still open.”

  “The shops aren’t open during Chirappu?” Trent asked.

  “They are, but everything will be crowded, and who wants to spend your time shopping when you could be celebrating?” Varsha replied. “Of course we go to temple for our puja—our prayers—but it’s so much more than that. You can shop anytime. Chirappu only comes once a year.”

  “Will I be allowed to come with you for the puja?” Trent asked.

  “Why wouldn’t you be?” Varsha said. “The temple is open to everyone. We don’t practice intolerance here. Our friends are our friends regardless of their religion, and we celebrate each other’s holidays as we celebrate our own. After all, if they have a reason to celebrate, isn’t that a reason for us all to celebrate?”

  “Of course,” Trent said. “It’s just not often I hear it expressed that succinctly or see it lived out.”

  “Kerala is not your average place,” Leelavati said. “Literacy is the norm—the last statistic I saw said 99 percent of the population could read—as is tolerance. Kerala has never had problems with sectarian violence. Our religious leaders have made it very clear, jointly and separately, that such attitudes have no place in our beliefs or our lives. The children’s friends growing up were a mix of Hindu, Muslim, and Christian. For that matter, my friends growing up were the same.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Trent said. “It makes me look forward to Chirappu even more.”

  “You didn’t answer the question. Nikhilesh, do you want to go shopping for anything while you’re here?”

  “I need a new pair of sandals,” Nik said. “And maybe Trent would like a pair too. Does Aysha’s uncle still have his shop near the temple?”

  “He does. Let me change, and we can go. Varsha, do you or Swopna need anything?”

  “We can find what we need in Thiruvananthapuram, Amma. We’ll stay here. Swopna needs a nap anyway.”

  Leelavati went into her bedroom.

  Nik rose as well and gestured for Trent to follow him into their room. “You don’t have to come out with us if you’d rather stay home.”

  “And miss a chance to see the city?” Trent replied. “No way. I slept well last night, and I’ve eaten well. I’m ready for a walk.”

  “Will you be comfortable walking in sandals? It’s hot, but the roads are dusty and sometimes rocky. Pebbles in your sandals won’t be comfortable either.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Trent gave Nik a quick kiss. “Thank you for worrying about me, but you don’t have to. I’m adaptable, and if something is really a problem, I promise I’ll tell you.”

  “You better.”

  When they went back into the main room, Leelavati was waiting for them, in a bright red tunic and pants embroidered at the neck, sleeves, and hem with gold thread. “Not wearing a sari, Amma?” Nik asked.

  “I wear one at the college and I’ll wear one to temple tomorrow, but for going shopping, a churidar is more practical.”

  Trent wasn’t sure any Indian women’s clothing was practical. Beautiful, but not practical.

  They walked down the residential street—a different one than they’d driven in on—lined with beautiful gardens and wrought-iron gates until they got to the more commercial area. Trent saw some bigger stores, the Indian version of department stores, but the streets were lined with far more stalls and stands than anything else. He could guess what some of them were from looking at the contents of the carts where they displayed their merchandise, but the curling lines of script above the stalls defeated his comprehension. He might speak English and decent Spanish, but here he was completely illiterate. They passed one stall selling bracelets, pottus, flowers, and more. Trent kept walking, but Nik stopped and went back. He haggled for a moment with the vendor and came away with a sprig of jasmine flowers.

  “For you, Amma.” Before his mother could protest, he’d undone the clip in her hair and refastened it with the stem inside so the flowers hung over the knot of hair. “You should always have jasmine in your hair.”

  “That’s more your sister’s style than mine,” she said, but she looked pleased at the gesture despite her words.

  Nik just laughed and threaded his arm through hers. Trent trailed along behind, trying not to feel left out. Nik couldn’t hold his hand in public here, and he hadn’t seen his mother in months and hadn’t been home in years. Even if Nik could hold his hand, he would probably walk with his mother.

  They turned a corner into a side street—Trent had yet to see anything he could recognize as a street sign, much less read—and ducked into a small, dim shop. Trent followed Nik’s lead and slipped his sandals off at the door.

  He could only guess that the spate of sound that followed were greetings and questions as the older gentleman behind the counter came out to greet Nik and Leelavati. He nodded when the man looked his way, but since he didn’t know what had been said, he didn’t know what else to do.

  Nik looked at home in the little shop, much the same way he’d looked in the street haggling with the flower vendor. He belonged here in a way Trent never would. More than that, he looked comfortable here in a way Trent had never seen him look in Chicago, even when they were in the Desi corridor of Devon Avenue. This was—and always would be—home for him.

  The shopkeeper ushered Nik over to a rack of leather sandals with beautiful tooled designs on the straps between the toes and over the top of the foot. Trent peeked over Leelavati’s shoulder to get a closer look, but since Nik wasn’t reaching for any of them, Trent didn’t either. He didn’t know the protocol for shopping here.

  “See anything you like?” Nik asked.

  “Everything,” Trent said reverently. “You don’t see sandals this finely worked at home.”

  “No, you don’t,” Nik agreed. “Do you want to try some on?”

  Trent considered for a moment. They were all beautiful, and for India, he was sure they were even relatively practical, but he lived in Chicago and worked in a company where he couldn’t wear sandals in the office. As detailed as the designs were, he was sure they were hideously expensive, and he didn’t want to spend a lot of money on something he would only be able to wear a few times a year.

  “Maybe those?” He pointed to a simple pair that he hoped wouldn’t be too costly.

  “You should get something nicer,” Leelavati said. “It’s Chirappu. You’ll want something to wear to the festival.”

  Trent looked at the selection again and pointed to a second pair, the ones that had caught his eye initially with the mandala designs on
the straps.

  “Much better. What size do you wear?”

  “A ten,” Trent said.

  “Nine here,” Nik interjected.

  She switched to Malayalam again and in a few moments, the proprietor had disappeared and returned with the sandals. Trent tried them on, amazed at how comfortably they fit. Nik had said the exchange rate would make things a better deal in India, so maybe they wouldn’t blow his entire trip budget in one go.

  “What do you think?” Nik asked.

  “They’re really nice.”

  “Aren’t they? Mr. Rashid does great work.”

  “I’m afraid to ask how much they are,” Trent said.

  Nik grinned. “One hundred and fifty rupees.”

  Trent did a quick calculation in his head. “That’s less than the price of cup of coffee at Starbucks.”

  “Now you see why I’m always complaining about the prices in Chicago,” Nik replied.

  “Maybe I should get two pairs,” Trent said. “I don’t know if I’ll be back.”

  Nik looked at him oddly but shrugged. “It’s up to you. Pick a different style so you have options.”

  Trent looked around a bit, but none of the others caught his interest the same way. “No, I think I’ll just get this pair. I don’t wear sandals all that often at home.”

  Nik took the sandals and set them on the counter next to the pair he had chosen. Then he settled in to haggle again. Trent hadn’t been surprised by it on the street, but he couldn’t imagine going into a store in Chicago and haggling. The proprietor didn’t seem surprised, though, as he settled into the negotiation with a grin to match Nik’s.

  Nik finally handed him some money and they left the store. “I miss that in Chicago,” he admitted as they retrieved their shoes and walked back down the street. “No one wants to bargain with me that way. Even in the Indian stores.”

  They wandered a little more, looking in the shop windows but not going in. Trent was starting to feel the heat and to wonder if he was getting sunburned when Nik and his mother stopped as another woman Leelavati’s age came bustling up to them and embraced Nik.

  “Nikhilesh! It’s been so long.” Trent didn’t know who the woman was, but at least she was speaking English so he could pretend to be interested in the conversation.

  “Hello, Kunjunjamma aunty,” Nik said. “You’re right, it has been. How’s Reena? And the rest of the family?”

  Reena. This must be Nik’s other friend’s family, then. Trent paid a little more attention after that. It might have been years since Nik had seen her, but she had been important to him once. She might be important to him again.

  “Oh, they’re all well. Reena is getting married in September. You should come to the wedding. She would be so happy to see you.”

  “She’s getting married here in Alappuzha?” Nik asked. Trent could hear the speculation in Nik’s voice like he was considering coming back. Two trips less than a year apart after not having come home in ten years…. How long would it take before trips home weren’t enough?

  “Yes, but she’ll live in Pullincunnoo with her new husband once they’re married.”

  “In Pullincunnoo, really? After living in Kochi for the last few years? What’s she going to do there?”

  Reena’s mother shrugged. “She can teach there too. There are good schools on the island.”

  Nik looked skeptical, but he embraced the woman. “I’ll call her while I’m here. I don’t know if I can make it back for the wedding, but I’d love to say hello if nothing else.”

  Reena’s mother pulled out her phone. “I’ll text her number to your mother. Then you’ll have it.”

  Trent wasn’t sure he wanted Nik to have her number, but he refused to be the jealous lover who tried to control his boyfriend’s contact with everyone else.

  “Thank you, aunty. Oh, I’m being rude. This is Trent. We work together in Chicago. Trent, this is Reena’s mother, Kunjunjamma aunty.”

  Trent offered his hands as Nik had taught him. Reena’s mother smiled and returned the gesture, folding her hands over his. “It’s nice to meet you. Leelavati mentioned Nikhilesh was bringing a friend home with him when he came to visit. Have you been to India before?”

  “No, aunty,” Trent said. “This is my first visit, but I hope it won’t be my last.”

  “Come by on Christmas Day,” Reena’s mother said. “I have fruitcake.”

  Trent stifled a flinch at the memory of the fruitcake his mother always served at Christmas at home.

  “We will, aunty,” Nik said. “You make the best fruitcake. Not at all like the stuff they make in the States. I’ve missed it.”

  Trent relaxed a little. Nik had complained about fruitcake right along with him when they’d gone home to visit his family last year, so if he said this was better, at least they were comparing it to the same base level of bad.

  “And whose fault is that?”

  “Mine,” Nik said, “but I’m home now, so I don’t have to miss it this year. We’ll come by for tea on Christmas Day if that suits.”

  Trent tried not to frown at Nik’s words. Trent still talked about “going home” to visit his parents. It shouldn’t bother him that Nik used the same words to talk about India, but it did. Wisconsin was a few hours’ drive, not a thirty-six hour flight. And Trent didn’t miss Wisconsin the way Nik obviously missed Kerala.

  “Good. You’ll get to see Reena then.” She embraced Nik once more and left them to finish her errands. Trent trailed along behind Nik and his mother as they returned to the house, feeling more and more alienated as they walked.

  “YOU’RE NOT having a good time,” Nikhilesh said as soon as they were alone. Trent’s shoulders slumped and he dragged his feet as he got ready for bed.

  “Of course I am,” Trent protested. “Your family has been very welcoming.”

  Nik raised his eyebrows. “That doesn’t mean you’re enjoying yourself.”

  Trent sighed, and the sound tore at Nikhilesh’s confidence. He wanted Trent to like India. He didn’t want to wait another ten years before coming home again, but if Trent didn’t want to come with him, he’d have a hard time making even infrequent trips. Assuming Trent still wanted to be with him after this trip.

  “I’m still very jet-lagged and things are very different here. You know everyone, so for you it’s a wonderful reunion, and I’m glad to see that. It just means I sometimes get a little lost in the conversation, even when it’s in English. That doesn’t mean I’m not enjoying myself. I’m glad we’re here. I love seeing where you grew up. It’s a glimpse into your past and your culture I’ve never had before.”

  Trent spoke evenly, even earnestly, a good first step, but Nikhilesh wanted to spend the rest of his life with Trent. For that, he needed Trent to embrace his family.

  Do not deprive your mother of a wedding to plan. Muthassan’s words echoed through him again. He still hadn’t decided if Muthassan had intended his words as a blessing, but it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t accept an arranged marriage even if Trent didn’t want to marry into his crazy family. If he got married, it would be to Trent.

  He’d have to figure out how to involve his mother in planning the wedding from Alappuzha when he lived in Chicago. They couldn’t get married in India, so any wedding would have to take place at home. Of course Trent had to say yes first, and the way things were going, Trent would probably run for the hills as soon as they got home, and they’d only been here for two days. They had two weeks left.

  He was doomed.

  “I wish I could tell you it will get better, but between Chirappu and the party my family planned, I’m afraid it’s only going to get worse.”

  “And I’ll deal with it just like I dealt with everything today.”

  If only that reassured him the way Trent wanted it to. They were his family and it had been too much for him at times today. When everyone else descended on them, it would be absolute chaos.

  “I talked to Achan this afternoon. He’s going to
make arrangements for us to go out on a houseboat one day, just us, so you can see the backwaters of Kerala and have a break from everyone.”

  “I don’t want to drag you away from your family,” Trent insisted.

  “I suspect by that point, I’ll want the break too,” Nik replied. “I love my family, but they’re overwhelming when they’re all together, and after ten years, they all want a lot of together time. Besides, I have wonderful memories of going out on boats in the backwater. I want to share that with you too.” The thought of a day with just Trent appealed greatly. Even more so if they had some privacy on the boat.

  “As long as it’s something you’ll enjoy too.” Trent stretched out on the mattress, ready for bed. Nikhilesh finished getting ready quickly and climbed in on the other side. Trent snuggled close and wrapped his arms around Nikhilesh tightly.

  “You’re happy here.”

  Nikhilesh heard the question in Trent’s words and considered how to answer. He was happy to see his family. He’d missed the scents of jasmine and sandalwood, the sound of Malayalam, the chance to eat authentic Kerala cooking. He’s missed the smell of his mother’s perfume and his father’s aftershave. He’d missed Nareshkumar’s wedding and seeing his nieces’ births. He had no one to blame for any of that but himself since he was the one who’d bolted and then stayed away, but being here had driven home the holes in his life and heart.

  Trent’s arms tightened around him, drawing Nikhilesh’s attention back to his lover, who watched him expectantly.

  “It’s good to be home. It’s been a long time.”

  THE STREETS of Alappuzha were so crowded when they left the house to go to the temple the next morning that they could hardly walk.

  “I told you,” Nikhilesh said as they inched forward toward the temple. God, he loved the press of bodies around them. He tilted his head back and breathed in the scent of the garlands strung overhead between the stalls lining the street. This was Chirappu at its best. This was what all the pujas in temples in Chicago could never replace. This was home. “People come from all over Kerala for Chirappu.”