THE IMMIGRANT Read Online Free PDF

disrespectful.
    ‘It’s so beautiful, uncle,’ Ananda breathed, as he walked through the wood and saw the sea at its edge, ‘so clean and fresh—so few people.’ The uncle beamed, admiring for the thousandth time the view and himself for living so close to it.
    ‘Beta, we must talk.’
    ‘Ji uncle.’
    They walk on meditatively, the uncle pulls on his pipe, an affectation he has. To help his nephew, now so unfortunate, would be a way for him to pay back the debts a life of fortune had accumulated; a way also of making sure his sister’s soul was at peace. As soon as he knew the boy was coming he had spoken to the Dean of Admissions at the Dental School, submitted Ananda’s application and explained his circumstances. He was well respected, and they were understanding.
    ‘Thank you, ji,’ murmured the tired nephew, soaking in the feeling of being taken care of, by his uncle, the system, the government.
    ‘Meet the Dean, then we will see about your loan.’
    The feeling of being taken care of melted away. Of course this was not a world where family sacrificed their all for your success; here blood expected you to stand on your own.
    ‘This is how things are done here,’ went on Dr Sharma, his Indianness attuning him to Ananda’s discomfort. ‘Even Lara and Lenny will take loans. No pocket can stretch to cover higher education, maybe a millionaire’s, but not a doctor’s.’
    ‘How much loan?’
    ‘Doctors and lawyers are considered good investments, so the whole thing is easily worked out. Right now I will give you a hundred dollars a month, enough to cover some basics.’
    He pulled the money carefully from his wallet. The sight of the blue, red, orange and green Canadian notes brought relief to Ananda’s soul. He could unclench his fist from around his eight US dollars, could look forward to replenishment every month, could avoid the ignominy of having to ask, so close to begging.
    ‘I will pay you back, uncle,’ he murmured. You had to learn fast in the West, it was sink or swim, and Ananda was trying out his strokes.
    Dr Sharma looked at the boy, noticed the weariness on his face. Poor child, he had just been orphaned, but what better way to find your feet than student life? If he made things too easy, his nephew, being Indian, might take such avuncular indulgence for granted.
    ‘Let’s go back, you must be very jet-lagged—it’s going to be light for hours yet. But have something to eat before you sleep.’
    The boy looked at him and there never was such an open, unguarded expression on his face again. ‘Thank you, uncle, thank you—for everything. I can’t—don’t want to—go back home, after what has happened—it will be impossible. With your blessings I can make it here.’
    ‘You will make your mother proud if you do well.’
    Why did his uncle have to mention her?
    After a pause the uncle said, ‘One does miss relatives here. I kept inviting your mother—even offered to pay—but she said it was impossible to leave her family and I could not afford four international tickets.’
    His mother, his self-sacrificing mother.
    ‘I often discussed it with Nancy,’ continued the uncle reflectively, ‘but it was not feasible.’
    Ananda said nothing, he was in too much pain.
    Dr Sharma’s own sadness increased. He wished he had done more for his sister. Compared to his life, hers had been so mean and small. Though close in age, as children she had mothered him. Well, he would make it up to her son. She would prefer that, and the son himself would eventually realise that good things can come from even the greatest tragedies. Time is a great healer, he told his nephew, who nodded obediently.
    They went home, Ananda made himself a tomato, cheese and lettuce sandwich, drank a glass of milk and went to bed.
    Getting Ananda’s life in order took the better part of two weeks. Dr Sharma went with him to the Dean’s office, went with him to the Forrest Building, went with him to the student