The Hope Factory A Novel - By Lavanya Sankaran Page 0,45

say that three things are important to achieve what you are so kind as to call my success.

“Firstly, he must be smart and work very, very hard.”

“Oh,” said the engineer’s mother, “Kamala-ma’s son looks very smart indeed. I can see it.”

“And he works hard,” said Kamala, ignoring her son’s surprise.

“Good,” said the engineer. “Then, in that case, aunty, you must create the right opportunity for him. That is the second thing.”

“What do you mean?” said Kamala.

“Is he attending a government school or a paid school?”

In the silence that settled, Kamala knew that the answer was visible to all. “Government,” she said.

The engineer shook his head. “That is no use, aunty. You have to change that. I went for a few years to that government school.” He glanced at his parents; they were nodding at the collective memory. “There were no teachers half the time, … and the other half, the teachers would not teach us anything worthwhile…. One teacher used to send his son to sit there instead of him …”

“Then you won that scholarship and could go to paid school,” said his mother. “Some company gave it. For five children.”

“We were lucky,” said his father. “Lucky to have heard of the scholarship and lucky that the headmaster of Sri Hindu Seva Private School liked this boy and decided to enroll him and help him with his studies to catch up.”

“And that is the third important thing, aunty,” said the engineer. “Luck. Since our good government will not bother to look after us, we need some luck. And God’s blessings.”

He placed his coffee tumbler on the side table and stood up. Kamala made haste to stand up herself. At the door, she turned to ask him: “Son, you are happy now? All is well? I can see it is so with your parents, but with you?”

“As well as can be, aunty,” said the engineer. “The work is hard. But I am happy to have it.”

“And,” his mother lowered her voice conspiratorially, “he has given us permission to start looking …”

“Oh, that is indeed good news!” said Kamala. “I have no doubt a great match will be found for your son. You will be blessed with a beautiful bride!”

On the way down, Narayan emerged from a thoughtful silence to say, with an unusual severity, “I do not think he was happy to see us, Mother. He was eager for us to be gone. He thinks too much of himself.”

“Nonsense,” said Kamala. “He was in a hurry, that is all. And he was so kind with his advice…. I want you to write to him,” she said. “A letter. I will get his address from his parents. Just to say thank you for his advice.” She did not mean to say more, but her desire escaped in spite of herself: “Perhaps he can help you get a scholarship also. Maybe from that same company that gave his.”

Narayan nodded but without, she was forced to note, the awe, humility, and eagerness that she would have liked to see. “Okay, Amma,” he said agreeably, for all the world as though he were doing her a favor instead of tempting her into rapping her knuckles on his head, before slipping into his usual flim-flammery. “But don’t worry, if I do not get a scholarship, then I will go work in Dubai as a driver, or go work there in construction.”

Construction, said his mother.

Yes, said Narayan, “you do not know of these things, Amma, but there is a lot of money to be made in construction…. Raghavan was telling me that there are people who for a fee will get you jobs anywhere in the world….” Kamala listened with half an ear, her mind busy with her own thoughts. She was used to his rattling nonsense, absurd, fantastical tales of untold wealth in foreign countries like America, where even cleaning women like herself had microwaves and cars; garbage stories that so filled his brain with air until it seemed that his very feet floated three feet above the earth on which they stood.

In truth, the engineer’s words had only served to deepen her unhappiness. The annual fees for a paid, privately run school were at least ten thousand rupees a year. Three months’ salary. How could she afford that? It would deplete her nest egg in a year. And how would she pay the fees for the years that followed?

She spied the tiny Hanuman temple in the corner. “Come,” she said and led her son to