by Anubha Mehta
31.
IT WAS STILL DARK when we dragged a sleeping Diya into the back seat of the car, and drove off after bidding goodbye to a groggy Edith, Jill, and Brian, with a promise to see them again soon.
I wanted to tell Veer about last night, but I was happy that we were finally headed home. “There’s nothing like home sweet home,” I said, stroking his thigh.
He didn’t answer.
“Veer?”
“Maya, we are not returning home. Not just yet….”
My pulse picked up and whatever sleep remained in my eyes vanished in a second. “What do you mean?” I tried to ask calmly.
Veer was concentrating hard on the cold, dark highway but he had fire in his eyes. “I just want to go up North and explore a bit, Don’t you?”
“No.” The woman in the mirror nudging us toward the forest flashed before my eyes. “Let’s not,” I said again.
He looked at me sideways and thought I was joking. My mind was bursting with questions. Veer had borrowed a worn-out yellow map from Brian’s glove compartment, and I knew that he wouldn’t stop now.
“Veer, where are we going?” I asked as a frail morning ray rose on the horizon.
“I don’t know.”
The sky turned pink and an outline of Northern coniferous trees speckled between mossy green boulders and red earth. Emerald green lochs dotted the roadside. Diya had woken up and sat speechless, mesmerized.
Veer turned in at a sign for Opeongo Lake. Blankets of colourful fungi came passionately alive with fortitude and verve. Spruce, maple, and pines towered above, and the rugged starkness of granite ridges was softened by lavender and yellow wildflowers. I could feel the forest inside me. My earlier fear left me. How could such a place do any harm?
We reached a peninsula overlooking the central portion of the lake. There on the right was the Portage Store, a log house for canoe rentals. Veer steered to a stop, removed his sneakers, walked to the edge of the lake, and sat down heavily, resting his arms on his knees. Diya sprang out after him.
The first rays had not yet pierced the lingering mist, and the air was very crisp. There was not a soul in sight. Veer picked up a flat grey slatestone and skimmed it over the lake’s skin in concentric whirlpools. The lake wrinkled one … two … three times, at lengthening intervals. Diya filled her pockets with shiny pebbles that she found under the crystal-clear water as I sat and watched on a big piece of washed up driftwood.
This beautiful moment in nature had come so unexpectedly. But it was not enough. We wanted more, to breathe and refresh our souls. So we climbed back into the car and headed out to look for signs for lodging.
We had been driving along Oxtongue River, following the signs toward Lake of Bays. After miles of thick forest and wilderness, we reached a ghost town with a few scattered cottages and two churches. On the side was a wooden sign that read Lodging for Short-Term Lease. An arrow pointed to the forest ahead.
I hesitated. “Veer, let’s not go into the backwoods. Let’s stay in this town.” But he had already turned the wheels around.
“Mama, is there anything to eat?” Diya asked.
I gave her some oatmeal-cranberry cookies that Edith had packed for us in plastic bags and saved the sandwiches for later. After driving for another half hour, we spotted another sign that was barely visible. A splintered wooden placard with peeling paint read: Algonquin Outpost: Backcountry Log Cabins for Rent.
After another fifteen minutes on the rough road, we reached a small stone house. It too had a sign that read: chalets à louer.
Veer stepped out to investigate. He returned with an exceptionally large man wearing suspenders on outgrown pants, sorrel boots, and a large grin pinned on his crimson face. He was the first person we had seen in this rough country since we left Edith’s house.
“Bonjour! Je m’appelle Cedric. C’est une si belle journée, madame.”
He handed Veer a corroded iron key with directions.
“Papa, where are we going?”
“To a place like we have never gone before,” Veer smiled, his eyes bright.
Our old Buick, until now, had behaved rather well on these jagged paths. But every time it went over a bump, my heart leapt with fear that a tire might be punctured by the wrath of the sharp-edged stones below.
Veer stopped in front of the last log cabin. It was the last building before a steep chasm ahead. It was made up of round logs stacked one on top of the other. Diya opened the door, and we entered to a fresh, menthol pine scent. There was an animal skin on the floor and two love seats covered with faded fabric, a kettle over a wood stove, and a fireplace with a stack of welcoming logs. We were back in pioneer days.
“Mama, who lived here? Mama, what kind of songs did they sing?” I wondered too.
We sat on one of the love seats, and Veer handed out the sandwiches. “Warm your toes and get ready to look for dinner before dark,” I reminded Veer.
We got back into our car and headed back down the same path we had come, with the hope of returning to the small town we’d driven through earlier. It was past noon now, and the sun was smiling kindly in a spotless blue sky. As the car moved ahead, I had the distinct sense that we were going around in circles. Veer seemed to feel the same way.
When I mentioned this to him, he said, “I don’t know, Maya. We seem to be moving ahead, but it looks all the same to me too….” This was the first time since we had left that Veer seemed a little shaky. The wind had picked up, but was not as furious as it had been the previous night.
We came to a clearing. It looked like a campground, except there were no trailers. Next to the rusted iron gates were two large dumpsters. The first had Municipal Property written on it. And the second’s sign was scraped off, but it read something like: Warning. B … ar … Frequ … ting Area.
“Maya, let’s go a little ahead. We may find some campers….” Veer had just finishing his sentence when he stopped. Behind the second bin overflowing with rotten garbage, not more than a few metres from us, was something black, shiny, and huge. A wild black bear, Algonquin Park’s largest predator.
The bear did not look up. But he knew that we were there. He probably knew we were there long before we saw him. Veer brought out the camera, opened the squeaky car door, and placed his foot on the dry gravel to shoot the photo. His foot made a crunching sound.
The bear looked up. Straight at us. It lowered its head, drew its ears back, and started huffing through its nostrils. I stretched across to pull Veer back inside the car, and he slammed the door shut. Then I shouted, “Let’s go, Veer! Now … move … run!”
Veer jammed on the accelerator and shot ahead. Our old tires kept skidding on the loose gravel. In the rearview mirror, I could see the bear standing on the spot where we had been only a few seconds ago. It could have easily caught up with us, but I guess the garbage dump was more inviting.
“You should have at least let me take a photograph, Maya,” Veer said, as we gathered some distance between the bear and us.
“And get killed?”
“Since when are you scared, Maya?”
“Since we are lost in this forest at the edge of the earth with no food or directions, and a black bear on our tail, that’s when!”
We both laughed, but Diya was irritable. “Mama, you should have let Papa take a photograph at least. Now who will believe me in school?”
The road was getting bumpier with potholes and stones. Veer turned to look at Diya on the back seat, and his hand slipped from the wheel. In a fraction of a second, our car steered to the side, and the tires hit something.
Bang!
We were jolted and came to a grinding stop. The tire had popped. Our car had tilted slightly to one side. Veer got out immediately to assess the situation. “It’s a flat tire,” he reported. He bent down to inspect the deflated rubber. We were surrounded by thick forest on
both sides of this dirt path. The bushy shrubs mixed with dense undergrowth made visibility and access impossible.
Dark shadows filtered down from the torn wings of giant moths that were hovering over our heads. The pungent smell of decomposing leaves seemed to envelope us. The sun disappeared behind the clouds and it suddenly got chilly. A premonition passed over me.
“I will have to change this tire, Maya. Get inside the car with Diya.”
I hesitated. “But with both of us inside, won’t the car be too heavy?”
“Just sit inside, Maya. It is not safe outside. I will manage.”
A light breeze had started blowing through the thick branches, carrying our scent and bringing back smells of the forest to us. Diya was following the swaying leaves, humming her music notes. I was in the middle of pulling her next to me inside the car when she suddenly stopped resisting. She stiffened. Her eyes widened, and she stopped blinking.
I turned to see. There it was. Just behind us. The big black bear had followed us.
I gently nudged Veer with my foot and glided Diya into the car behind me. One look at my face and Veer knew. Very slowly, he turned around to face the bear.
“No jerky movements … reverse slowly,” he murmured.
The bear had started swiping the ground with his forepaw. I had no idea what this meant, but I did not like it. We had to do something fast. Our only way to escape, our old rusted car, was no longer an option. My shaking hand started moving toward the door handle.
Veer lifted his arms and started waving them in the air and walking slowly backward. I knew what he was doing. He was distracting the bear, leading him away from us, and toward him. And the bear had indeed moved a few steps in Veer’s direction.
I remembered reading that a bear would retreat if it heard loud noises. I was going to take this chance. With all the air I had left in my lungs, I shouted Veer’s name and started banging the loose hubcap from the flat tire on the car’s front bumper.
“What are you doing, Maya?” Veer turned around in horror. The bear, who was just a few feet away from Veer, stopped dead in his tracks and turned its head to look at me. My heart was in my mouth. I could hear my screams, except they were muffled deep in my chest. Veer started making noise too. So, the bear then turned again toward Veer. And then, as if we had done this before, I made the next very loud noise. By now the bear was either confused or angry. Either way, we knew we could not hold it for long. It would charge at one of us. Which one, we did not know. But I did know, whichever way the bear charged, Diya at least was safe.
Then, out of nowhere, as if God had come to our rescue, we heard some tires behind us. An olive-green jeep pulled up behind us carrying three young men wearing Stetson hats and khaki uniforms. The head of the team carried a long gun. They were park rangers. The first ranger immediately shielded me, while the other two sprinted in Veer’s direction. The head ranger flung his gun into the air and fired two shots.
“Please go inside, M’am,” the ranger directed me. I jumped into the back seat with Diya who reached out and clutched my arm.
The rangers had reached Veer, and the bear was retreating into the thick forest on the side of the road. I found my breath again. Veer ran back to us, and, when he saw we were okay, he turned to thank the rangers.
“You saved our lives. I cannot thank you enough.” He shook their hands for a long time.
The next quarter of an hour was spent changing the punctured tire. One of the rangers helped, the others stayed on guard the whole time.
“It’s spring and the bears have come out of hibernation and are starving,” one of the park rangers explained. “This year, the hunting season was extended, and the new cubs follow the sound of gun shots as they know it leads to fresh animal carcasses. So when your tire made a loud bang, the bear followed that sound, hoping for a fresh meal.” He paused. “And it is anyone’s guess how a bear might react to disappointment when it doesn’t find the meal it was hoping for.”
“Or maybe it did find what it was looking for—a more satisfying meal,” I said, pointing to Veer’s large size, and we all laughed.
We followed the rangers back to our log cabin. The captain gave Diya a memento. “Young girl, I want you to remember today with bravery and humility. What your parents did there was very foolish, but very brave. It would have saved your life. What you learned today was humility in front of nature, to respect our place in the wild.” He opened the small leather bag tied at his hip and took out a metal pin, the Canadian red-and-white flag. He pinned it on Diya’s jacket. “There. Always carry this when you seek courage and it will come to you.”
With that, they tipped their hats and left. So we were back without accomplishing what we had set out for: we were still hungry.
A strong smell of burning coal and something roasting abruptly hit us. With our stomachs rumbling like thunder before a storm, we followed our noses. On the horizon was the outline of a cluster of cabins touching the lake’s shore. A number of campers were sitting around an enormous bonfire with some playful dogs dancing around them, and drinks being passed around. One of them was strumming a guitar and the rest were humming along to “Sweet Caroline.”
A husky and a Doberman ran over to us, wagging their tails energetically. They walked next to us until we reached the group. The guitar player stopped, and everyone looked up at us. We were pleased to see Cedric, the man who had rented us the cabin.
“Hey, how do you come this way?”
To our surprise it was Diya who answered first. I was amazed by how confident she was in speaking to these strangers. “We ran into a big bear and forgot our way. Then the rangers got us back….”
They had all gathered around. A chubby middle-aged woman sitting on a folding plastic chair, got up, opened her cooler, and offered Diya a popsicle.
“Is there anywhere to grab a bite?” Veer asked, looking at the group.
“Sure, go into the lake and see if you can grab a bite or if the bite grabs you—ha ha!” a man under a Toronto Maple Leafs baseball cap sniggered. And the entire group laughed.
“My daughter is hungry,” I replied, unruffled by their mockery. “And so are we!” That seemed to thaw the group.
“You can join us if you like,” Cedric offered. “We’ve had a good day on the water, and there is plenty left to be slapped on the grill.”
“But we would like to pay you for it.”
“There is no need for payment; it is for the ladies.” He pointed his beer bottle at Diya and me.
Three freshly scaled rainbow trout with diced potatoes and carrots were doused in oil and seasoning and laid on a charcoal grill. The music started again along with the chatter. Once again, we had been welcomed comfortably amongst strangers.
I had never seen Veer and Diya devour a meal with such passion.
After supper, Cedric took Diya for a ride in his canoe on a silvery rippled lake and told her about the forest.
Veer came and sat next to me on the grass. “One day, Maya, I shall own a patch of land like this and live off it.” I remembered he had wished this many years ago, when we were in Delhi.
“And then you will feed the whole village!” I joked.
“Yes, Maya, I shall. You remembered.”
“How can I forget, Veer? It was one of the most unexpected things I have ever heard you say.”
We watched the silhouettes of Cedric and Diya under the moon, in perfect harmony.
“She looks so much like you Maya. The same eyes, the same stubbornness, and the same caring—for everything that does not matter.”
And I could not help thinking this meant that Diya also looked like her grandmother, Gayatri. But, of course, I did not say that aloud.
“Teach them young, and they will nourish the earth, my father used to say,” Cedric shouted as he pulled the canoe up onto the beach.
That night I settled
down next to Veer on the tattered love-seat in front of a warm, amber log fire. The shadows of the flames danced over the wooden walls, crackling and melting the oak logs to ash, destroying all doubts, all negativity. We had been saved and fed by our new countrymen. We had just been granted a second chance of life, a life different from our past. Was I a fool to think this way? Maybe.
32.
THIS TRIP HAD AFFECTED all of us in different ways. Another year had passed since then and Diya wore the maple leaf flag that was given to her by the rangers on her jacket everyday to school. She radiated with a new found confidence and could talk of nothing else but her upcoming choir recital. She spent every waking moment practising her pitch and notes to perfection. I was in awe of her single-minded devotion to music.
But, I was fidgety. I wanted to live again. I wanted some parts of my old life back. I hankered for an anchor, a friend, a distraction, a fulfilling vocation, anything. The emptiness was killing me. One evening I almost called William to find out what had happened to his apprenticeship offer. But then I thought it was best to wait till Diya’s big recital downtown was over.
When Diya’s rehersal day arrived , she was up, ready, and waiting by the door before I had even finished my coffee. “Come on, Mama, let’s go.”
I had written directions regarding which streetcar to board and which subway station to get off at on the back of a scrap of paper. Hurriedly, I had stuffed this in my purse along with Diya’s one million things—her music sheets, candy, hairbrush, markers, T-shirt.
As we moved toward the downtown core, large Victorian houses gave way to narrow, multi-storeyed buildings, shelters for the homeless, glossy restaurants, and congested streets with countless people dressed in suits and ties. As soon as we reached the auditorium, Diya ran in to greet Bella and her other friends. I waited at the back of the room, and, when she no longer looked up for me, I decided that it was time to leave.
“Mama, don’t worry,” she reassured me. “The school will bus us home, and I am with Bella.” She always knew what was on my mind.