They sat and waited. Govinda watched as people wandered by. People were arriving and leaving all the time. Some foreigners sat beside their bags. His father pointed out an Australian family sitting nearby. The foreigners, Govinda decided, seemed bigger and louder than most Indians. He listened to the way they spoke and wondered if he would one day speak like them. He was about to become a foreigner himself. Would his skin colour alter, from brown to white, and his hair turn lighter once they left India and became Australian?

When it was time to board, Govinda was surprised by the huge sound of the plane’s engines. The flashing ruby-red lights on the wings of the aircraft reminded him of Kali’s tongue. The black tarmac looked like her arms and legs. The engines were too loud. They hurt his ears. Would home be a place he had never been to?

The hostess greeted them and pointed out their seats. They found them by checking the numbers above each row, and stowed their small bags under the seat in front and the larger bags overhead. They buckled their seat belts and waited as the plane prepared to take off. Another air hostess instructed them what to do in the event of an accident. She pointed out the emergency exits, wished them an enjoyable flight and quickly went to sit down. The aircraft took off with such force that Govinda held his father’s hand. From his window seat he saw the ground and the outline of houses and trees, city lights, river and waterways.

That night, as the aircraft flew over the Bay of Bengal approaching his new country Australia, Govinda dreamed of a large procession. There were elephants, priests, dancers and musicians. Amongst the dancers was his mother riding an elephant. She wore her navy dress and she looked happy as she waved at him. ‘You have nothing to fear,’ Gitanjali said, smiling. ‘It is the spirit that counts. We all play our part in the dance.’

When he awoke, the plane was dark and seemed still. Govinda was not sure where he was, whether he was awake or not. He heard a soft tinny sound.

His father was listening to headphones, but he had his eyes closed. In his hand he held a marigold.

Govinda looked out of the window while most of the passengers slept. Above, below, all around, he saw infinite, bewildering space, a black sky and a black ocean.

He played the dream over in his head and tried to understand what it meant and wondered if his father was happy.

On the screen the plane was flying over water, approaching a place marked ‘Darwin’ on the map. Govinda was eager to land. He felt his father’s hand on his. In his other hand he still clutched onto the marigold. The sun began to rise.

Govinda asked his father ‘Why did my mother love Mumbles Singh?’