THE IMMIGRANT

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Book: Read THE IMMIGRANT for Free Online
Authors: Manju Kapur
in the car.
    ‘After making sure I left,’ muttered Ananda as they drove away from 807 Young Avenue.
    Gary laughed. ‘You’ll have a much better time on your own, man. One can’t have family breathing down one’s neck.’
    If one was fortunate enough to have a family, thought Ananda. Stoically he stared at the majestic maple trees that lined the roads that led to Gary’s house.
    ‘My parents had this room specially designed, and students have been quite happy here, you’ll see,’ said Gary as he unlatched a little gate at the back. Six narrow steps circled down to a door that opened into the basement. Basements were the students’ lot, but this was as different from his old one as night from day. Blinds divided the room into a tiny foyer with a desk and chair, and a larger bedroom. On the wall above were two long, thin windows set close to the ceiling. The view was of grass, but enough light came through to brighten the place. A single step led up to an alcove with a stove and fridge on one side; on the other was a bathroom to wet as he pleased.
    It was heaven at fifty dollars a week. Why hadn’t he moved sooner? Why hadn’t he thought of it?
    ‘Notice the blinds? They are teak. I saw them in India and had them shipped over—you don’t get things like this here.’
    Ananda had never seen teak blinds at home, but he didn’t say anything.
    ‘Better get a phone connection soon,’ said Gary, pulling the door shut and handing Ananda a key. ‘Come on, Mom must be waiting.’
    Dinner was to take place upstairs, in celebration of the new tenant cum friend cum part of the family.
    To be served a fish bouillabaisse—we made this for you, because you don’t eat meat.
    ‘Mom, Andy doesn’t eat meat, fish or chicken, he is pure vegetarian.’
    The mother looked stricken—here, the salad, the potatoes, the bread, and I can open a can of tomato soup, it will only take two minutes.
    As Ananda sipped the thick, red mass produced liquid—for the two hundredth time (conservative estimate)—he thought of his uncle. A Brahmin like himself, but only marginally connected to vegetables. How long could one hang on to caste taboos, for whom and for what? His parents were dead. And he had broken taboos when he drank alcohol in college.
    As a first step towards a different future, he now said, ‘My uncle eats everything—including beef.’
    ‘Ah yes, Dr Sharma has been here a long time, hasn’t he?
    ‘Twenty two years, but he began with meat when he was a student in India.’
    ‘Andy here is a late starter. But soon you will be asking for steak,’ Gary rallied.
    ‘Cows are sacred in India, Gary. You must not make fun of a person’s beliefs,’ said Mr Geller.
    ‘I’m aware of that, Mom—I haven’t travelled in India for nothing—but Andy knows what I mean. When in Rome do as Romans do.’
    Ananda carried Gary’s joke further to show how well he could take the spirit of what they were saying, ‘The cows there are sacred, but maybe I will commit no sin if I eat the cows here. Let’s see how long it takes me,’ he remarked and they laughed, wanting to encourage him in steps he took to be Canadian. His life would be easier if he ate meat.
    Ananda had a summer job. He had responded to a notice on the school bulletin board that advertised the position of dental assistant to Dr Cameron in Robie Street.
    The interview with Dr Cameron had gone well. The doctor was a tall, stooped man, with thinning hair, a soft voice, tentative manner and blue eyes magnified by glasses. It was a seven hour working day, and if four dollars an hour was acceptable, his assistant (soon to go on maternity leave) would show him the ropes.
    The money was acceptable, it had to be, but Ananda took care to inform him that he had been a dentist with his own practice in India. Dr Cameron took equal care to inform him that he was not allowed to even touch a patient till he got his DDS, a fact Ananda was aware of.
    From the 1st of June, every

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