I was the first one to jump off the rickshaw and run towards the big iron gates.

"Pop, come and see what daddy did to mum this time." I yelled on top of my voice as I ran into the house, " She is bleeding from the mouth and head. Daddy hit her this morning with a hockey stick."

"What! Where is she?" Both grandma and grandpa were out in a flash. By the time mum was at the door with my younger sister, Sharon.

"Please pay the rickshaw man dad, I don't have any money. I ran out of the house without anything, just in my housecoat. Bert has been in a horrible mood since last evening. See he hit me hard this time. I have lost a tooth." Mum burst into tears.

"I told you not to marry that alcoholic, but you were in love and blind to all his faults. You ran away from home to marry that bastard! Now you are married to him, you have to bear with all his faults. We cannot do anything. You made your bed, you have to lie in it. What do you expect us to do for you now!" Grandma said looking despondently at her once very precious daughter.

I was told that both grandma and grandpa had great ambitions for their only child. She was sent to a good Catholic Convent school run by the Irish nuns. Every day grandpa sat by her side and helped with the homework. They wanted her to become a doctor and go to England for further studies.

"You know, I have Scottish blood in me. Your mother's ancestors were all English. I want you to do well in school and then go to England for further education. Catch a good man in England for your husband. We will also sell this house and come to England. There is nothing left in India for us Anglo-Indians. No job, no respect, nothing. You have to be an Indian to be able to get anything now. Gone are the days of the British when life for us was different. There is no good Anglo-Indian boy to marry. They have all gone to England or Australia. I am worried about you. You have to study hard and leave this country," Grandpa would often say to my mother.

Grandpa was once working for the railways during the British times and had saved a lot of money. He bought this beautiful cottage in the Anglo-Indian Trust Property. The cottage had an enchanting rose garden in the front. At the back was the vegetable garden for grandma. Grandpa spent long hours-daily working in his garden.

Grandma did all the housework herself. They did not believe in keeping servants when they themselves could do the housework. She came from a strict Catholic family and was brought up in a very disciplined ways of the Victorian age. She had expected the same from her only daughter. Grandpa was very easy going and loved and trusted his wife with blind faith. He never contradicted his wife in anything she said. They never had any arguments, it was always the way grandma wanted. Sometimes I thought that he was a little henpecked, and completely under her thumb. But then he explained to me one day, that Grandma was a good woman, and he loved her very much, therefore, to have a good marriage life, one partner has to be accommodating and compromising. That is why they were happily married for 50 years.

"Come now, sit here and tell us what actually happened while I make you a cup of tea." Grandpa said helping mum to a chair.

"Here wipe your face with this wet towel." Grandma said. I think she was concerned, but even though we were Anglo-Indians and followed the western culture, we were still very much influenced by the local Indian culture. According to the Hindus, once a girl was married, she belonged to her husband and the in-laws. She had to live however, and whatever way her husband and his family would like her to. Besides my grandparents being a strict Catholic believed that marriage was for life.

Mum wiped the blood off her face. Her face was swollen and blue. Grandma shook her head sadly and handed her Aspirin tablets, while grandpa gave her the cup of tea.

"I did not start the fight, mum. Bert came to see me in the office, yesterday afternoon. He sat with my boss's son for a long time. You know they are supposed to be good friends!" Mum said after gulping a big sip of tea. " I don't know when they became friends, but Mohamed is always at our place in the evenings. He brings home bottles of Indian Rum for Bert. Often he had been taking Bert and me to dances and clubs where he foots the bills. Offcourse, while Bert spends his time drinking at the bar, Mohamed and his friends dance with me. Sometimes I get so tired. I would rather stay at home with my children. But Bert enjoys their company and the booze. I cannot refuse because Mohamed is my boss's son, besides, Bert wants me to go with them."

"What does his mother say to all this?" Grandma asked.

"She says nothing. Infact, she wants me to go because she is happy to see her son get what he wants, the booze. After all he can hardly keep a job going for long. His mother only gets a pension from the British Army and I get very little pay as a secretary and a typist. We have children's school fees and books to pay for as well as run the house. Bert gets aggressive when he does not get his bottle of alcohol. His mother is happy when he is out of the house, and prefers me to go with them just for his sake." Mum said.

"Does she not realise that these Indian rich men come for you and not for him! They cannot take their wives or women out with them to the clubs and dances in the public places so they want to take our girls out with them for fun. How can Bert's mother allow this to happen?" Grandpa said.

"Last night I refused to go with them, because I was so tired, besides Sharon had class test today. I wanted to be with my children." Mum said sobbing again. "Bert went with them, but it seems, they only went for a long drive, and not to any bars for drink. They asked him to get together this evening with me for a dance at the club. When he told me this in the morning, I refused. I was dressing for the office and the children were ready to catch the bus to school, when Bert lost his temper at me for refusing the invitation for the evening. He suddenly picked up his hockey stick and hit me on the face."

"That Bastard will pay for this, God will punish him." Grandma said, " How much we tried to stop you. Now what can we do! Go to the police - they are bad too. They will all laugh at us. As it is they have very poor opinion of us Anglo-Indians. They will only arrest Bert and bash him up, then you, his mother, and all of our community will help pay his bail and get him out of the jail. They will all blame us for making a complaint instead. There is nothing to come out of it, my dear. He will never give up drinking. When he is not drunk he is a good man, they will all say. The same thing happened the last time, yet, you went back to him. Now we are not going to do anything. You have to sort it out yourself. He will be here in the evening in his sober mood to get his family home. You will have to go, because we don't want any scene."

"Well, the best thing I think is to run away far from this city. Take your children and go away somewhere far, in another city and then leave him for goods." Grandpa said.

I was shocked. I did not think grandpa would say that. But perhaps he had seen his daughter suffer for a long time. Dad had started drinking for some years now. Ever since he lost his Government job at the Transport Office, he had started drinking. Mum and granny thought that it was all due to frustration since he was unable to get another job. But then even when he got another job he continued drinking. When he did not have enough money he started beating mum, or losing temper at his own old mother. Eventually he made some friends at mum's office and the liquor problems seemed to have been solved for him. I did not know how and when he was going to get over the habit. He was a wonderful dad other wise. I do remember some great times with my father even now.

As grandma said, dad was at the gates in the evening. "Come on Jenny, let us go home. I am sorry for the morning. I want my family back at home. Let us go." He shouted.

Neither grandma nor grandpa came out of the house to greet him. "You had better leave." Grandma said, "I don't want to see that man. Besides I don't want him shouting over here. We are old, we cannot face the scene he makes over here. Better go and the next times, think what you have to do. It is no use coming here where he can find you. Every-time it is the same, decide for once and either live with him the way he wants you to, or leave him for goods. This is no way of living a life of fear and pain. It is not good for the girls. If you cannot bear it then go far from here. Somewhere he cannot find you, and make a life for yourself and the girls."

We were back at home that evening and offcourse dad was very loving and caring towards mum, but they did go out that evening with Mohamed and his friends, as he wanted her to.

Soon the life was back to normal I thought. Mum went out every morning to office after seeing us on the bus for school. Dad stayed at home with granny. He spent most of his time reading the local newspaper for employment and drinking rum. He did attend a couple of interviews but returned home abusing since he was not selected.

"They only choose their own community, the bloody bastards." He would tell mum in the evening. "I hate these Indians. How I wish the British were still ruling India. Things were so much better. We Anglo-Indians were given preference before all these Indians, and now it is just the opposite. They pick their own kind. They want graduates for the position of a clerk, damn the Indians. If only we had money to go away to England."

My mum would listen to him in silence. Dad was very respectful and good to his Indian friends, especially Mohamed. He did not mind Mohamed telling him off.

"Now Bert, stop abusing." He would say, "These days every one wants graduates for office work. Even the sweepers and the cleaners are High School pass. It is a pity you did not complete your study. At least your wife managed to pass through her High School. I hope you will see that your daughters are well educated!"

One we were woken up by loud noise. Mum and Dad were arguing about something again. " I asked you to wear that damn saree, did I not? Mohamed bought that one for you to wear. He had invited us to his Rotary Club. He said that the women there wore sarees since they all came from good, rich, Indian homes. He did not want anyone to know that we were Anglo-Indians. The poor man wanted us to dance and enjoy the festival of lights in the club with him and you let him down."

"He wanted a partner to dance with. Well he had to accept me as I am. I hate wearing that wog dress, the saree. What is wrong in being an Anglo-Indian! I am not ashamed of being one, nor am I ashamed of my dress. Besides, why should I do as he wants! After all I am the one who is entertaining him with my company and being his dance partner." Mum lashed out. " You only want the foreign liquor he provided you with that is why you are angry that I did not do as your friend wanted me to. Well I am not going to entertain anyone with my company for your sake. I am sick and tired of it all."

"How dare you answer me back! You do as I tell you. Tomorrow you have to wear the saree when Mohamed and his friend call in the evening. We can all go to the club again for dinner, " Dad said loudly and with authority.

"No, I will not wear that saree to please you and your friends. I will not go out tomorrow. " Mum replied.

"How dare you……" and it was followed by banging, screaming and sobbing sounds. Both Sharon and myself jumped out of our beds and ran towards mum's. Dad was again bashing mum. That night mum packed up our clothes again and taking us by hand rushed out of the house. This time she did not go to Grandpa's house but to the station. Soon we were in the train bound for Delhi, she said. "I am never going back there again, " she said between sobs. "I am going to make my own life."

I was only thirteen years old then, and Sharon was ten.

We spent a long time at the Delhi station the next morning. We did not have enough money with us. We only had one set of clothes each. Both Sharon and I were very worried. As it was we travelled without any tickets. Thanks God no conductor guards came to check at night.

"What are we going to do mum," I asked.

"I don't know." She replied. "I have a girl friend living somewhere in Lajpatnagar. I think I will go to her house and see if she can help us with accommodation for few days till I get a job."

"Do think she remembers you, mum," Sharon asked.

"I am sure she will. But I am not sure if she will be at home at this time. Anyway, let us give it a try. Let us say a pray to dear Jesus before we go." Mum said.

Fortunately, Mary was at home when we reached. She was shocked to see us standing infront of her gate in that condition.

"Well come in Jenny, now that you are here." She said. "My husband is at work and the children have all gone to school. Have you come on a holiday to Delhi?'

Mum explained to her all that happened and then asked if she could put us up till she found a secretarial job.

"That is very sad. I think you have done the right thing, but I will have to get you a place to live at and a job pretty soon. We have a very small place here and my husband is a bit different. He thinks this house is already too small for us with three children of our own."

Anyhow, we spent a week at her house. Mary and her husband introduced mum to their American friend one day. Mr White was a good dancer. He took mum out a couple of times and then one day he offered us his house to live in.

"I don't like him," Sharon said.

"At least mum seems to be happy now." I said. "Although I miss dad and home in Lucknow. I wonder how grandma and grandpa are doing! I miss our visits to them every Sunday."

"I think mum wrote to them last week," Sharon said.

Sharon and I were soon admitted into an Anglo-Indian Public School nearby. Mr White took mum out daily in his black Fiat car. I came to know that he was starting a new business. He was getting mum trained to be a striptease dancer in one of the top restaurant in Connaught Place.

"I don't like this job of yours mum," I said to her one day.

"There is a lot of money in it," Mum said. "It is an art, and I am quite enjoying it. Besides, Mr White is always there with me. He is a thorough gentleman. He is ever protective and caring towards me. Nothing will go wrong and it will all be okay my dear. You two put your minds into study and take care. Everything is going to be alright."

I was upset. Very often I thought of returning to my dad or to my grandparents but then, I could not. We never returned to Lucknow. Never heard from dad or his mother, granny McNamara. Every evening both of us were left alone in the flat while mum went with Mr White for the performance till late night. She saw that we got all we wanted, better clothes and food. But she was too busy for us now. We also had an ayah and a cook. The ayah saw to our needs in the house instead of mum. Life was very different. Once in a while, we two were allowed to be present at the performances in the restaurant. Although mum looked beautiful in those gorgeous clothes she wore before taking them off one by one, I sort of felt embarrassed. The music was great and so was the food, but I could bear to see my mother expose her body to the people there. The crowd of Indian people present always made such dirty jokes about her performance, but it did not seem to matter to mum. She was always for good music and dance. In the Anglo-Indian club at Lucknow, she and dad were one of the best dancers. They danced the waltz, Tango, jive, foxtrot and the cha-cha-cha with such grace and had won many competitions together. I never thought that she would eventually take to striptease in the end. If only dad had stopped drinking and come for them to Delhi. I did not even know if he was already aware of our address.

"We are free of that man for goods." Mum explained to me one day. Mr White helped me with the divorce papers and I am free now to marry anyone if I wanted. She seemed to be very happy about it but I was sad. I had hoped that dad would change and we would be together again.

Anyway, to my great surprise and embarrassment, mum was invited to perform at the school staff lunch at the end of the year. We two were allowed to be present at the occasion when mum did the performance infront of the principal and the teachers. There amidst the staff, ninety-five percent of who were Anglo-Indians, mum looked so beautiful. She was much fairer than many. Mum looked like grandpa. Grandma was from the state of Goa, a bit on the darker side. She had Portuguese background I was told. Many of the Anglo-Indians present were from Goa or the South of India and were on the darker side. The Anglo-Indian community was of different complexions due to where in India they came from, and what and how much Indian blood they had in them. My mother stood out there amongst them all as a young beautiful and slim lady. She danced gracefully as she shredded her closed to the bare minimum. It all looked so dignified and good. She said it was an art and she worked to that end, but I was most embarrassed watching my mother like that. That night I cried and wished I could leave them all as soon as I could and start a new life for myself. I wanted very much to have a home where I was respected and loved. I had watched many Indian movies to know what a respectable home looked like.

It while I was studying in the Co-educational public school that I took a great liking to one of my classmate, Rajeev. He came from a good Punjabi home. Majorities of the students in the Anglo-Indian Public School were Indians. They all came from rich and influential homes. Their parents were industrialists, businessmen, or professionals. Since the teaching was done in English and Hindi was only taught as a subject, the rich parents sent their children for education to this school in the hopes that one day they would be sent overseas for further education. Also since the official language was still English and Hindi, it was important to master the language. It also was a matter of prestige to be able to speak well in English, after all the world spoke English, and the great movies made in Hollywoods were all in English too!

Sharon was still close to mum and got along well with Mr White, but I kept to myself. Rajeev and myself became good friends and I started discussing my personal feelings with him. He introduced me to many of his friends, they were all Indians, but I began to like them. They were different from the other Anglo-Indian friends I had in the school. They spoke mostly of the Indian movies and the lessons taught in class. I felt I too had to study like them. Rajeev always helped me with my schoolwork. I don't know how the years went bye and soon I completed my High School.

"I am so proud of you my dear." Mum said to me the day my results were announced. "I have a surprise for you too! I am going to give up this job. Mr White and I are getting married and leaving for the USA at the end of this year. Both you and Sharon can come with us too."

"Oh Mama! I am so happy for you!" I said. "I don't know if I will like to leave India. I think I will stay on here and work. I am going to take up teaching."

"That is very good. You will have to go to Allahabad Teachers Training College. They will help you through with further study and the two years teachers training. I shall leave some money for you. Besides you can also apply for scholarship through the Rangers Club for Anglo-Indians." Mum replied.

Mum left for New York at the end of the year. Sharon went with her but I joined the college at Allahabad. I boarded in the college with many other Anglo-Indian students. Teaching and secretarial jobs were the two professions that the Anglo-Indian young students could go for in those days. Rajeev and I kept in touch through letters. He went into the University in Delhi for Bachelor of Arts. His father owned a factory in Gurgaon, a suburb of Delhi. Since he was the eldest son, he was going to take over an important position in the factory besides his father and uncles once he had finished his graduation. All his uncles and his father lived in a big mansion with their parents. They all worked together in their factory, which brought them a good amount of wealth. Rajeev had once invited me to the house for Depavali festival, a festival of lights of the Hindus. I was taken up by the joint family system of theirs. Everyone seemed to be respecting each other's rights and was very friendly. The community living touched me, everyone seemed to share and care. Grandparents were the heads of the community of theirs in that big house. Everyone showed such great respect to them.

I received letters from mum and Sharon often, inviting me to New York, but I kept putting it off because I could not think of leaving India, and more so loose Rajeev. By the end of the two years of my training, Rajeev and I became very close. We were in love and considering marriage.

"It is going to be very difficult, but I am going to marry you only. My parents are already arranging my marriage. They have seen many girls for me. They want me to marry a girl who would be pretty, fair, educated and also have a big amount of wealth for dowry to offer." He said, " But I want nothing. All I want is you. We know each other for so many years, I cannot think of another woman for my wife. I like you when you wear the sarees I have presented you. When we are married you will have to wear just the sarees, and the salwar-Kameez like my people wear. You look good in them, better than in the skirt and blouses and the frocks. I don't want anyone else to look at your beautiful legs besides me."

"Oh my dear Rajeev, I shall wear anything you would like me to. I love you so much. You have been my only companion and friend, all these days of my life. I cannot think of ever leaving you too." I replied. " I will wait for you always. You are every thing I have."

Rajeev had made me forget my grandparents and my father. I could not think of what I would do without him. Over the years I had learnt to talk in Hindi and Punjabi, and wear the Indian clothes. Mum used to dislike my doing so. The other Anglo-Indians and the nuns in the college often advised that I should not let Rajeev influence me to the extent that I forgot my rights of freedom to choose. " We are Christians and we follow the western ways. How on earth can you wear those wog dresses? What is wrong with you?" They would say. "Remember, they will never accept you. You may wear clothes like them, even speak like them, but they will never accept you as one of them, because you are not born of them and do not have their caste. You cannot take up a caste by choice, you have to be born into it." Mum said the same when I wrote to tell her of our intention to marry. She even threatened to disown me if I married Rajeev.

"I don't care what mum does. I have the right to live my life the way I want it. I love you and that is what matters Rajeev." I told him, "I want to do everything as you want me to."

"I too don't care either what my parents and relatives want me to do. I am going to join the army as a short commission officer. They are having trouble with Pakistan. I am going to join the Indian Army for five years. We shall get married and then live together. I don't want my parents business and wealth." Rajeev said one evening.

I had completed my teacher's training and was working at the Convent of Jesus and Mary in Delhi. Rajeev had started working in his factory with his father and other family members. His parents and brothers forever tormented him with the question of marriage to a Hindu girl from an affluent home.

"Raju, we cannot accept your Christian girl as the daughter-in-law of our family." His Dadaji (grandfather, the father of his dad) said to him often. Everyone called him Raju instead of Rajeev at home. It was short and sweet for them. Mother's father was called, nanaji and not dadaji.

"And why not dadaji? What is wrong with her apart from her being a Christian by religion by birth?" Rajeev asked him.

"Raju, hold your tongue. You must have respect for your elders. My father is correct. This Christian girl cannot be our daughter-in-law. She is all right as your girl friend and mistress. It is manhood to have more than one woman according to the Hindu Sashtras, but only one woman can be your wife. That one woman will be according to our choice and upto our Hindu family standards."

"I am sorry dad, I love this Christian girl and I am going to marry her, not keep her as my mistress or girl friend throughout my life." Rajeev replied.

"Raju, do you know that her mother was a night club dancer? She is the daughter of a characterless woman. How can you bring this time of girl into our family! What will our elders and relatives say. No one will marry our girls and no one will give their girls for marriage into our family. What kind of children will she bear you, like her mother, with no shame and character!" Dadiji ( dad's mother) said. "No, never will I consent to you marrying this girl."

"Yes, I know her mother was a night club dancer. But she is not, and I have known her for many years. She is different to her mother. She is much better than many of our Hindu girls. I will teach her our religion and she will live like us over here." Rajeev said.

Offcourse there was no use trying to reason with his family members. Ultimately he made up his mind to join the Army and marry the girl he loved so much.

I was very upset at their rejection of me as their daughter-in-law. I had visiting their house for years, since the time I was at school. Every time they celebrated Rajeev's birthday party, I was invited along with other students from the class. They all seemed to like me very much.

"Karen, you must visit us often. Raju needs friends like you. I believe you are very good at mathematics." Mataji, Rajeev's mother would say to me. She was a good-looking sophisticated lady. She looked very elegant in her matching silk saree and blouse. She used good make-up and French Perfume. Her hand was always adorned with 22-carat gold rings studded with ruby and diamonds. Her earrings, bangles and necklaces were all exquisitely designed and in 22 carat gold. Rich Indians ladies wore silk sarees and 22-carat gold with diamonds, rubies, pearls and other precious stones. My mother did not have any of them. As a matter of fact, jewelleries were not what the Anglo-Indians would care for, but it seemed of great importance to the Indian women. Jewellery displayed status and prestige. I would have liked to have them, but could never afford them, expect for the round earrings.

"She is very pretty and fair in complexion, isn't she?" I heard Rajeev's Aunt saying to mataji once.

I could not understand why they had changed towards me when Rajeev wanted to marry me. Was it because they could accept me as his friend only, but never thought that I would one-day want to become one of them! What was wrong with me! I was educated, fair, and beautiful and loved their son? The only difference was that of religion and status, I did not come from a rich family like them.

"That is not all, Karen!" Aunt Mary, my mother's friend said. I had been visiting her often since mum and Sharon left for the USA." You are not Indian fully and of their caste. They would accept you anyday as a friend, but never to be one of them. You cannot assimilate into their family, they have the purity of Indian race and heritage. They consider themselves superior to us Christians, and more so to the mixed race, the Anglo-Indians."

"But why? How are they superior to us?" I asked. "Aren't we the descendants of the British? And the British ruled India for 200 years. Besides, most of the children of the rich Indians get their education from the English Christian Schools. Infact, they all prefer to send their children to the English Schools run by the Christian missionaries and the Anglo-Indians. Also many of them prefer to go overseas for further education in the European Universities in the various Christian countries. So why can't they accept us into their families as a member like their own? The Indian students in the English Schools and their parents respect us. They think so high of us when we are teaching them!"

"Well, my dear," Uncle Tom said. He was sitting at the dinner table while I was talking to his wife, Aunt Mary. " British were rulers for 200 years not doubt, but the Indians, especially the Hindus did not like them, just the same as they do not like the Muslims who ruled them before. They still do not like them, do they? There are still incidences of Hindu and Muslim violence and fighting. As far as the Christians are concerned, you must remember that the foreign missionaries brought Christianity to India. It was never a religion of India. Hinduism has always been the religion of India. Don't they call India, Hindustan. Many of the untouchables and the poverty stricken lower caste Hindus were converted to Christianity by the foreign missionaries, and this they cannot forget. Offcourse, we Anglo-Indians are mixed race, half Indian in the past and half European, we are not pure Indian like them, so we are no match to their purity of race and high caste!" Uncle said with a sarcastic smile." They say that the British left the country but left behind their left over for us!!"

"That is mean!" I exclaimed. "How can they? We are born and brought up in this country. I love this country. I don't know any other country but India as my own."

"My dear, you may love this country, but you are not accepted as one of the country because of your religious difference and also because of your being part European. "Aunt Mary said. " That is why many Anglo-Indians left India at the time of independence. We are also migrating to Australia. Why don't you come with us if you don't want to join your mother in the USA? There are no girls or boys for our children to marry. We feel unaccepted all the time. You are a science and maths teacher, you will easily get accepted for immigration. Australia is a good country, Karen. You will get a good Australian for a husband, who will make you happy. Don't waste your young life in this country where no one recognises you for what you are. They only think of religion, background and family rather than individuals. They get their ideas from those Hollywood movies they see about us."

"In the Hollywood movies they see young actor and actresses making love and choosing their own life partners, contrary to their own life style in India. It makes them think that every Christian and Anglo-Indian is free to make love and have a relationship with only. When it comes to marrying and becoming a part of their family, they would definitely choose their own kind, a Hindu." Uncle Tom said, "My girls, take our advice, leave India and settle down in Australia. Come and stay with us, we shall help you find a job and happiness with your own kind."

"I don't know just now, Aunt. I shall think it over." I replied. I felt like running away from everyone. I needed time to think things over.

That evening when Rajeev came to see me I said. "I feel terribly bad taking you from your family. I don't know if this is the right thing to do Rajeev. I have been thinking it over and over again. Your family is concerned and caring about you. They do not feel that I fit in with their way of living. Perhaps they are right."

"Why do you say that, Karen?" Rajeev said. "I don't care what my parents want, I know I want you and that is what matters. You are not taking me away from them, instead I am leaving them for you. I cannot think of another woman. You are the one woman I have always loved and will always love."

I said nothing to him, but the following day, I filled in an application for immigration to Australia. I wanted to get away to a distant land, far from all I knew, and start a life for myself without any attachments. In the late 1969 there was still the shortage of teachers in Australia. Soon I was called for an interview and then I was informed of my success in being accepted as a migrant to Australia. I had not told Rajeev about it. I was not sure what I wanted so far, but once I got my immigration to Australia, I knew I had to tell him.

"Rajeev I have something to tell you," I said while we sat sipping tea at my flat. " I applied for immigration to Australia."

"Why? Are you going to leave me and go away?" Rajeev said in a shocked voice. "What have I done?"

" You have done nothing, Rajeev. I still love you very much, always will, but I cannot bear to take you away from your family. I cannot do it. If they cannot accept me, and they have no trust in me, then I think it best for me to go far away from here." I replied, "You will be all right, once I have gone. May be you will like one of the girls they find you as your bride."

"Stop it Karen, just stop it." He said wildly, " Say, that you want to go away, because you want to find a new boy friend for yourself. I was warned that you Christians are like that, never satisfied with one man. I did not think you are like them. I thought you were different!"

"That is not true. In the first place the Christians are not all like that. You people generalise it according to the Western movies you watch. You have made your own opinion of us. There are good and bad in every community and race. Some do wrong things due to circumstances other do it for fun. Some do it in the open brazenly others do it quietly and no one comes to know of it. I am sure there are many bad ones in your community too! So stop generalising things. I want to leave for your happiness and your family's. I am sick and tired of listening to their remarks. They will never accept me. It is best for us to part."

"If that is what you want then go away. I am sorry I ever trusted you." That evening Rajeev and I had our first argument. He left in anger. I was upset too, but something told me that it was for the best. We did not see each other for a fortnight. I missed him very much but I felt I was doing the right thing. All the arrangements to migrate kept me busy. I did not wish to write to my mother, nor to my father. I had heard that he too had married again. My grandfather had died a year back I was informed. I did not feel like seeing my grandmother.

I informed Aunt Mary and Uncle Tom about my decision. They were happy for me. "We shall be leaving in December, only twenty days are left. You let us know when you are coming and we shall meet you at the airport in Perth." Aunt Mary said.

Once all the formalities were over, I was ready with my ticket to fly out to Perth. I had been hoping for Rajeev to drop by every day. But he came since the day we had our first argument. I kept thinking over and over again whether I had done the right thing in breaking up. I did love him very much and often wanted to phone him or write to him but my pride kept me from doing so.

Just a fortnight before I was to fly out, Rajeev came to see me one evening.

"Hello Karen!" He said. "Too proud to even phone me now! All those days of our childhood and friendship is forgotten?"

"Rajeev, I thought of you often but I was waiting for you to call me and make the first move," I said.

I told him about my leaving India for Australia. He was very quiet and then said, " Well if you still love me, and if my parents are the only reason you are leaving then, may be it is for the best. Let me know when you have reached there and what you think of the place. May be I too shall immigrate to Australia and we can get married there. We shall live happily in Australia, away from my family."

I was relieved and delighted. "Offcourse, I shall give you my address. I am going to stay a while in Perth with Aunt Mary and her family. It will be great if you can come too. Yes we shall marry there and live together. I love you very much Rajeev. I have been so unhappy all these days." I said giving him a hug.

"I have been unhappy too." He replied. "I have already applied to join the Army. I shall let you know what happens."

I left India that year in the month of January. But we were both happy when I was leaving. We knew we were both going to meet very soon, once I had found myself a job and settled down, Rajeev was going to visit me, then we were going to decide our future together.

About the author:

Esther was born in Calcutta but grew up and had all her education in Allahabad. Trained as a Secondary teacher at St Mary's College in Allahabad in 1961-62, there after she taught at St Josephs' Collegiate, Allahabad, La Martiniere Girls College, Lucknow, Frank Anthony Public School, New Delhi, Jesus Mary Convent in New Delhi. In Australia she has taught at the State Schools in Narembeen, Southern Cross, Near Darwin in Western Australia and in the States Schools in Sydney. At the moment she is teaching in A Special School run by the Marist Catholic Brothers in Lewisham, New South Wales. Most of her teaching in India and in Australia has always been in English, Maths and History. Since Esther came to Sydney in 1981, she has upgraded her qualifications to B.Ed. M.Ed and Graduate Diploma in Special Education. In New South Wales she has mainly taught in English and in Special Education, teaching children with Learning Difficulties in Reading, Writing skills and also High School students with emotional and behaviourial problems. Esther also has a diploma in Journalism from New South Wales.

Her first book UNWANTED was published in 1996. The second, BITTER SWEET TRUTH and the third, PANCHTANTRA for children in 2000. The second and third books have also been published in Delhi and Bangalore. Esther enjoys writing and has done it as a hobby. But intends taking it up seriously once she retires. Eshter is now writing a fiction novel, HE BROUGHT ME FLOWERS. The Fiction, HE BROUGHT ME FLOWERS, is a story about an Anglo-Indian born after the independence of India. It is about her struggles as an Anglo-Indian in India and her desperate attempt to settle in a foreign country, Australia, where having been brought up in India, she finds herself struggling to be accepted as an Anglo-Indian rather than an Indian. It ends up with her finding acceptance and comprimise in Australia. She had to face the fact that she belonged to two different cultures in India, western culture and religion, and Indian culture and philosophy of life. In Australia she had to adjust to the third culture, the western progressive culture, very different from the traditional one she had grown up with in India.