The Vaisakhi parade in Surrey was Sunny's favourite festival of the year. Few things came close.
The Pacific National Exhibition in Vancouver, at the end of the summer holiday, was one of them, because it also started with a parade and ended at the fairgrounds with rides, demolition derbies, farm animals and the prize home draw, its tickets sold by vendors shouting, "Win a house, win a car!" (When he reunited with Lauren thirty years later, and she informed him the animal barns on the fairgrounds once housed Japanese Canadians interned during the Second World War, his enjoyment of the PNE was diminished from then on.)
The IWA picnic on Labour Day at Ryall Park was another, when hot dogs and pop were handed to kids free of charge and you could have as much as you wanted. Dad always ran something at those picnics, either officiating the games like the sack race or tug of war, or helping at the barbecue, even though he didn't eat the hot dogs himself; Sunny got fewer hot dogs when Dad was at the grill, because Dad kept an eye on how many he ate and would quietly remind him to save some for the other kids, many of whom were less fortunate than he was. Rachel often came to the picnics at his invitation, and Dad never told her not to eat so many. Joe and his family showed up at those as well, because Joe's dad and his dad were part of the same union even if they worked at different mills. Sunny and his family sometimes showed up at the picnics Joe attended earlier in the summer too, for Roma Hall and for Holy Spirit Parish, but they brought their own food, because you had to pay for the sausages and pasta on offer; they also stayed on the edge of the picnic, uncomfortably aware of all the eyes on them, the one brown family among the sea of Italian Catholics.
What he loved about Vaisakhi, though, was that this festival was all his own. It took place in April, after the long slog that followed Christmas and New Year's Day. It was the traditional New Year's festival in the Indian subcontinent, when the day finally gained ground on the night, and the promise of warm days and long evenings of play filled the air. He considered it the first of the year's festivals, full of excitement and anticipation, which made it happier than, say, the PNE, which, although it was fun, always carried a hint of the bittersweet with it, the acknowledgement that summer was ending, school was returning, and darker days were coming.
Vaisakhi was especially memorable, at least in these last couple of years, because he was in it. Khalsa School had its own entry in the parade, and the students sang hymns they learned as part of their education in Gurmat, the teachings of the Guru, which was as much a part of the curriculum as was math, science and English. Because this wasn't his first parade, he felt a particular imperative to sing loud and on key, to provide a good example for the younger students, and to do his teachers proud.
He wanted to do his parents proud, too, and he looked for his mother and sister as he marched; his father was in his own entry with the New Westminster Labour Council. Politicians and advocacy groups had as much presence here as religion, and Dad was as proud of his union card as he was of his turban. Sunny knew his father sacrificed a lot to drive him to school every morning, getting up extra early to make sure he got to work on time, and he knew that unlike public school, Khalsa School wasn't free, and financial sacrifices were also being made to get him there. Now that Sunil Singh Parhar was Amritdhari, or baptized, he felt a duty to begin acting and living the Khalsa life, just as he felt the duty to grow his hair.
Here, he could be completely himself. Here, his Sikh identity wasn't a topic of polite but awkward questions by people who didn't know Punjabi or only had Western traditions as a reference point. Here, he felt no need to explain himself to blank-faced friends, or to run from bullies. Here, he was among thousands like him.
Not that he resented his friends for their questions, or for not understanding the things he did. People were just different. He didn't understand all of Joe's Catholic traditions, for example, nor did he expect Joe to explain them, even though Joe sometimes tried. What he liked about this parade was that his friends weren't here, and that he didn't have to walk them through it, and he could simply relax, as if he were letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding when he was around them.
And yet. And yet he still missed them. Not that he wanted them at the parade, necessarily; maybe if they existed in some kind of pod separate from the parade route that he could visit once the parade was over, and they could go off together and hang out (they didn't play anymore, unless video games on his Atari system counted as playing.)
Maybe he missed them more keenly because their number was down by two. Al and Rachel had moved away, their absence feeling like a missing arm, and the remaining two, Joe and Lauren, seemed too involved with each other to wonder about him. He felt like it was only a matter of time before they too drifted away, and then there would be no one left on the street to talk to anymore, and there would be no point to living in Queensborough anymore besides the gurdwara and the mill.
The parade began and ended at the Gurdwara Dashmesh Darbar on 85th Avenue, and all along the route, which travelled past businesses and even residential neighbourhoods, well-wishers handed out food and drink, and Sunny never wanted for anything, but his feet got tired by the end of the day. They marched from nine in the morning until four in the afternoon, a full day, and when he saw the Gudwara like a beacon ahead of him, he knew the end was near and he could finally rest.
He felt content and sleepy on the car ride home, with Bishan's head on his shoulder as they both sat in the back seat. She dozed a little, but he knew she would wake up as soon as they got home.
"Did you see me, Mom?" he asked as he met her eye in the rear view mirror.
"I did," she replied. "You were resplendent, Sunil, and I could hear your voice even among the others."
"I liked the Gatka demonstration," Bishan suddenly said; maybe she was just resting her eyes before.
"You and your martial arts," Mom said with a hint of disgust. "Why are you so interested in fighting?"
"I liked it," Bishan said. "It looked like dancing to me, and they weren't hurting each other."
"What was on display at the parade was just an artistic version of a very real form of combat," Dad said. "They were using sticks in the parade, but hundreds of years ago, when the Gurus first spoke the holy wisdom, they certainly used swords."
"I want to learn aikido," Bishan said, apropos of nothing.
"Aikido?" Mom said, confused and irritated at the same time. "What are you talking about, Bishan?"
"Sunny's friend Lauren does aikido," Bishan explained. "Her dad taught her. Maybe I can ask Lauren's dad to teach me too."
Sunny turned to her and asked, "Really?"
"You will do no such thing," Mom said. "No daughter of mine will be fighting. We are pacifists, Bishan."
"But Dad and Sunny have the kirpan strapped to their belt. How is that pacifist?"
"It's just for ceremony," Sunny said, but secretly he was proud of his kirpan. He'd gotten to pick it out himself, and it looked pretty cool, if he said so himself. He didn't take it out and play with it in public, though; he didn't want to scare anyone. In private, though, he found himself cleaning it too often and sharpening it unnecessarily, because it was supposed to be just a symbol.
"That Lauren," Mom grumbled. "Ever since she hurt that bad man, you've had an unhealthy fixation on her, like she's your role model. She's from a different tradition, and you need to focus on learning yours."
Bishan huffed in frustration, but said no more in protest, because Sunny saw his mother's eyes in the rear view mirror, and they looked unwilling to hear any more back talk. Sunny felt sorry for his sister for once, though, and felt the need to defend her. "It wouldn't hurt Bishan to know how to defend herself, especially when she gets older and has to fight off molesters and date rapists like on TV."
"She won't have to," Mom said. "For one thing, she has you to protect her, just as you promised when she was born."
He sighed in frustration. That again.
"Secondly, she'll marry a good Sikh man who'll love and respect her the way she deserves."
His mother was not being swayed, but he tried one more argument. "Lauren's a good friend of mine. She's smart, funny and, more importantly, loyal. As role models go, she's not a bad one. Bishan doesn't have any other girls on the street to talk to, not after Rachel moved away; Lauren could be like an older sister to Bishan."
"It's too bad Rachel isn't around anymore. I liked her. We should have had her over for dinner. I wouldn't have minded her as a role model. Lauren is so... boyish."
"You're being a little prejudiced, Mom. Don't we face enough of that ourselves without having it for other people?"
"Plus she's already being very familiar with your other friend, Joe. I don't think that makes her a very good role model."
"Are you saying you didn't kiss boys when you were a teenager?"
Mom gasped, and Dad said, "That's none of your business, Sunil, and frankly that was rude of you to ask."
Dad rarely got angry, so Sunny knew this was bad. "Sorry," he said.
They were all silent for a while, and he felt bad that what started as a glorious day had ended so badly.
Then Bishan leaned in and whispered in his ear, "Thanks for sticking up for me."
He looked at her and smiled, and she leaned her head back on his shoulder. Feeling tender towards her for the first time in years, he placed a protective arm around her and drew her close.
The next day, a Sunday, Sunny found Lauren on her balcony, without Joe, for once; Joe was probably at church, and Lauren was probably waiting for him, looking out toward Ewen Avenue, in the direction of Holy Spirit Parish. She smiled when she saw him, though, and waved. He waved back, and she descended what Rachel used to call the zig-zag stairs, to the ground floor of the building in which Rachel used to live below her.
"Hey, Sunny," she said. "How'd your parade go?"
"Good!" he said. "It went all day, that's why I didn't see you yesterday. We only got back after dinner."
"It's too bad you weren't here, though. Al came by for a visit."
"He did?!" Sunny said in disbelief. "Aw, jeez! He doesn't come for months and the one day I'm not around, he shows up."
"Don't feel bad. Joe wasn't here either, he was out with his dad getting stuff for farming, don't ask me what."
"So, it was just you and Al?"
"Yeah, I know. I had to break the news to him that Rachel moved away."
Sunny grimaced. "Poor Al. I bet he was heartbroken. He had such a crush on her."
"Yeah..." Lauren trailed off, looking pensive. There was something she wasn't telling him.
He wasn't going to push her, though. Instead, he said, "To tell you the truth, I kind of did, too."
"You?!" Lauren squawked, mouth open in surprised glee. "I never knew! Why didn't you say anything?"
Sunny shrugged. "I didn't want to make things awkward. We were all friends, and starting a rivalry like that would have killed our friendship."
Lauren nodded shrewdly. "Yeah, you're probably right."
"Anyway, where would it have led? Rachel still would have moved away, and it probably wouldn't have lasted even if she didn't. I'll probably end up marrying a Sikh girl like my mom wants me to."
"Joe's mom wants him to marry an Italian girl, but he's not giving in."
"Are you sure about that?"
"Of course I am," she said, maybe too firmly. Then she said, "Why, do you think he will?"
Sunny shrugged. "It's not for me to say. You two seem pretty serious."
"We are."
"Well, good for you. Hey, I wanted to ask you something."
"What is it?"
"Do you think your dad might want to teach my sister aikido?"
Lauren blinked in surprise. "Really?"
"Yeah. She thinks you're pretty cool, especially after you threw Francis O'Rourke and stopped Mr. Trybek with your sword. She wants to fight like you do."
Lauren frowned. "I'm flattered that she has such a high opinion of me, but what I do isn't really fighting. Martial arts are more about mental discipline than hurting people."
"Well, anyway, my mom doesn't want her to do it, but I think it would be good if she learned how to defend herself."
Lauren thought about it a moment. "I'll ask him. He's on the boats right now, so he won't be back until the season's over, but I'll get back to you when I see him."
"Thanks, Lauren."
Lauren nodded, but she wasn't really paying attention anymore. She was looking down the street, and Sunny knew what he would see when he looked too.
There was Joe, who seemed to have grown even since the last time Sunny saw him, quickly catching up in height with his older brother Johnny. Playing football and lifting weights at his high school gym had acted like an air pump on him, expanding him until he nearly burst the seams of his clothes. He was walking with his family, but when he saw Lauren, he separated from them and continued walking their way, eliciting a scowl from his mother. Sunny felt a spike of jealousy when he saw the look on Lauren's face as she looked at Joe. He wished he had someone to look at him that way, to want him so completely that she didn't see anything else but him in her field of vision.
"Hey, Sunny," Joe said when he approached. "How was your thing yesterday, what was it...?"
"The Vaisakhi parade. It was good. I marched in it with my school."
"Oh, yeah," Joe said absently, his attention already on Lauren. Sunny wondered why Joe even asked if he wasn't interested in the answer, and it irritated him that he was irritated by Joe's disinterest; wasn't he happy yesterday that he didn't have to explain himself while he was there? Wouldn't he have to explain to them what Vaisakhi was and why it was important to his faith?
"Well," Sunny said, "I guess I'll leave you alone to--"
"Wait, where are you going?" Joe asked. "Don't you want to hang out?"
Sunny shrugged. "I don't know, I have a feeling I'll just be a fifth wheel."
"That's not true!" Lauren said. "Come on, Sunny. We're all that's left of the LSDC. We need to stick together."
Sunny looked at Joe and said, "Did she tell you Al came by yesterday?"
"Yeah. It's too bad we missed him."
Sunny sighed and said, "I don't suppose you saw any missing dog posters on your way back from church."
Joe chuckled and said, "What, do you feel like getting on your bike?"
"Yes!" Lauren said. "Why not? When's the last time we all went for a bike ride?"
"Probably the last time I could climb on my bike without blowing out my shocks."
"He's right," Sunny said. "I'm getting a little big for mine too."
"Oh come on, I'm the only one who can still ride my bike?" Lauren asked in disbelief.
"Isn't she the cutest?" Joe asked, rubbing her hair.
Even Sunny knew that was the wrong thing to do, because Lauren punched Joe right in that spot in the arm that hurt the most. She was always able to find that spot.
Joe feigned being hurt, or maybe he wasn't feigning. "Anyway, I'm still in my church clothes. Maybe we should do something with less potential to throw me into a ditch."
"Should we just... I don't know... go for a walk?" Sunny asked.
"Okay," Lauren said. "It's not a bad day, cool but dry. Why not?"
They walked, and actually had a good time. They passed by all the landmarks, like Spagnol's, the gurdwara and the Fraser shore, stopping to look out at Poplar Island, reminiscing about being there with Danny Trybek and pretending to be pirates. Joe got sand in his church shoes and grumbled about his feet being sore, but they laughed a lot, and Sunny didn't feel at all like he was a fifth wheel, at least not today. They stopped for a snack at Spagnol's on the way home, all of them aware that their parents would be angry at them for spoiling their lunch, but wasn't that what being a teenager was all about, bending the rules from time to time, experimenting a little with freedom, making your own choices?
They didn't have many more days like that. As much as Lauren wanted them to stick together, Joe was the Mercury to her sun, and he might as well have been Pluto. Joe and Lauren just found themselves alone together more often, it was natural.
To Lauren's credit, though, she got back to him about Bishan's request. "Dad won't do it if your mom's not on board," she said sadly. "But, hey, if we're both around, send her over to me, and I can give her a few informal lessons."
"That's very nice of you, Lauren, thank you."
Lauren shrugged. "Like you said, it's important for a girl to know how to defend herself."
Bishan visited her a few times, and the two of them laughed together and had fun while practicing, wearing just their regular clothes because they weren't real lessons and they weren't in a dojo, according to Lauren.
This lasted until Mom found out and promptly put a stop to it, and then they were more careful about how they met up, and even Sunny cooperated in this breaking of the rules because he knew Bishan liked Lauren and wanted her to keep seeing her and learning from her.
Then Lauren found at job working at Spagnol's in the summer, and with that and her relationship with Joe, it got harder and harder for them to meet up, and the arrangement fizzled.
"Sorry it didn't work out, Bishan," Sunny told his sister. "I was rooting for you the whole time."
Bishan shrugged. "Don't be sorry. You did the best you could. I appreciate it. Lauren did a great job, and she only just got me started. As soon as I can get out from under Mom's thumb, I'm taking martial arts."
She did, too. That was where she met Jordan Trevelyan and took her first step on the path to her horrible fate.
Thanks for reading this far! If you read the second novel in this series, "Rude Awakenings," you'll know that when Al came for his visit and discovered Rachel had moved away, Lauren consoled him with a kiss; it explains Lauren's pensive look when Sunny asks her about Al's visit the day after. If you liked what you read, hit "Vote" to send this title up the ranks. If something doesn't ring true about Sikhism and Vaisakhi, please leave a comment; I strive for authenticity.
To return to the present day, and Lauren and Joe's second session with the marriage counsellor, click on "Continue reading."