Parsaai

Chapter Three

The drive to her relatives’ home was a long one. It had to have been at least forty-five minutes since they’d left New Delhi Airport. But, even now, they continued to drive farther and farther down the long, dusty, pocked dirt roads of India, their tires kicking up clouds of reddish brown dirt in their wake.

The entire country seemed to be swathed in this blanket of thick, terracotta-colored dust. It lifted high above the car-lined streets into the orange-stained sky above, where it seemed to be suspended in gently coiling wisps, eclipsing the sun but clearly not its heat.

Though the other occupants of the car had already filled her in and begun complaining about the dust—which she somehow sensed they were used to doing—that masked the adjacent countries of India and Pakistan, Pari herself couldn’t help but think that it added to the beauty of the lands. It gave them an even more rustic, exotic allure, one that seemed to spill from India into Pakistan, which her Uncle had just pointed out on the horizon.

“That’s where the other country that land locks Mina begins, and where my company’s headquarters and my job as owner are located. Just beyond those hills over there,” he explained with slight pride, as Pari followed his finger out to the hazy view of Pakistan she could just barely make out in the distance. All she saw were rolling green hills enveloped in what looked like soft, puffy white clouds that had cascaded from the sky. But, as the car moved closer, she could begin to see the subtle outlines of small villages nestled on the bluffs, as if they had been pulled from an old, magical legend.

“Wow,” Pari whispered, overwhelmed by the admirable charm of the foreign world around her. Jhanak, who sat next to her, glanced at her awe-filled expression and began laughing.

“Dekho toh Amreekan koh,” she said, playfully bumping her in the shoulder. “You’re acting as if you’ve never been here before.”

“It feels like I haven’t. After all, I was only five or six when we left Mina. And, I told you. I’m not Amreek—I mean, American. I’m British,” Pari said, trying not to sigh exasperatedly when she realized just how many times she’d had to explain this to people.

“But, you talk like an Amreekan,” Jhanak argued.

“That’s because my parents and I lived in America first before we moved to London. I lived in Chicago until I was fifteen. And then my Father got accepted to work at Cambridge as a philosophy professor, so we moved to the UK. That’s why I never grew out of my American accent,” Pari clarified further, hoping this much information would be enough to satisfy her cousins.

“Ohh, I get it now,” Jhanak said, smiling. “Well, whatever it is, you’re still a foreigner. Which is why I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you're shocked by the magic of our beautiful Mina.”

She gestured with her arm towards the window closest to Pari, who turned to gaze out of it. Outside, the view of the seemingly endless miles of dry, deserted countryside had vanished, suddenly replaced with vibrant, lively markets, restaurants, and hotels. There were crowds of people bustling about, travelling from one stall to another or running across the earth-caked streets, colorful bags collected on their arms.

The women were dressed in the traditional sarees and salwar kameez that Pari often saw the women in her Mother’s dramas wearing. Most men wore jeans and button-down shirts or plain-colored kurtas. Rickshaw drivers beeped and moved around them, their small vehicles bumping along the roads. Small children danced and played in the midst of everything, their tiny, carefree laughter echoing above all the other noise. An involuntary smile pulled on Pari’s lips. The city looked like one brought to life straight out of a Bollywood movie.

“It really is beautiful,” she muttered, her eyes still plastered to the city as it blurred past. The roads grew thinner and less crowded as they travelled deeper into it, the marketplaces and restaurants disappearing slowly as small homes began appearing along either side of the streets. The farther the car drove, the larger and more expensive-looking the houses began to get.