by Aysha Baqir
“Let us in, you know there’ll be trouble if anyone sees us.” Gita stepped forward.
Qadir didn’t budge. “Who’s this? You know you can’t bring anyone else in.”
“She’s not anyone,” retorted Gita. “She’s the new maid at Rahat Begum’s place. I met her at her grandson’s birthday party. Same old story; father needs heart surgery, but they don’t even have money for two meals a day. She’s the eldest of four sisters.”
“Does Kamran Saab know?” demanded Qadir.
“Of course he does,” said Gita. “But isn’t he here tonight?”
“No. And he didn’t tell me anything about a new girl,” Qadir folded his arms.
“Well I told him, and oh, here, I almost forgot this, something for you.” Gita grinned and pulled out a murky glass bottle with a shiny cap from her tote.
“Aha,” Qadir snatched the bottle and smirked. “Why didn’t you show me that before? Thank you. Thank you. If you say you’ve spoken to Kamran Saab, then that’s good enough for me. Come. Come. Your castle awaits.” He shoved the gate open.
Gita pushed me inside. I stumbled across the small driveway and heard the gate close behind me.
“We need to move quickly,” whispered Gita right behind me. At the front door, she paused. “Now,” she hushed me, swung the door open and pulled me inside. I blinked. It was dark except for a few flickering lights. A low drumbeat pulsed in the background. We climbed a narrow staircase. I looked down and saw a small alcove with large cushions placed around a faded rug.
“Ah, Gita,” a loud voice shrilled. “Back already? Who’s that with you?”
I stopped. That voice.
“Damn! Look down but keep moving,” whispered Gita. She swung her face up. “Auntie, you scared me. Oh, her? I met her at a birthday party. She’s another little bird from the village desperate for money. She got lucky when my client demanded two for tonight. Qadir just cleared her. She’ll leave after the client leaves, but I have another booking. Need to send more money back home. My husband is refusing to pay for our son’s schooling. That bastard.”
“Aren’t they all!”
“Auntie,” cried a voice from above. “Where’s my powder? I told you not to touch it.”
“Ah, Gurya howls again,” snorted Auntie. “Primps and preens the whole time, like it will make any difference to her chimp face. She peered down. “Good work, we need more new girls. Bring her to me once she’s done and make sure you put her bonus in my room.”
My head spun. The voice. The shrill voice. I had heard it before. Where?
As we reached the first floor, I caught sight of a hefty woman disappearing into a room. Loud shrill voice. Bulging hips. The heat. The smell of death. The cries and wails. I was back at Shaukat Chacha’s funeral. My head reeled. I faltered.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Gita gripped my arm.
“Who was that?” I whispered.
“Who, her?” Gita shot me an odd look. “That was Auntie. She’s been here for ages. She was Kamran Saab’s ayah, but now I hear he’s thinking of throwing her out. She’s getting old and lazy and hasn’t brought in any new girls for months. Hey, we need to move. What’s wrong?” She tugged my arm. “You’re not sick, are you?”
“No.” I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts.
Auntie was the hefty woman with bulging hips at Shaukat Chacha’s funeral. The one who had wanted to take Zohra to the city. Nasreen Masi had told Amma that she had driven the woman away. Hadn’t Amma met her there? No, Amma had been inside. It made no sense. It made complete sense.
“You’re lucky Gurya cried when she did,” whispered Gita. “Otherwise, Auntie would have wanted to meet you. She would have torn into you like a barracuda.”
We reached the second floor landing. The carpeting was threadbare and the lighting dim. “We’re here,” murmured Gita. “There used to be just two bedrooms, but Kamran had each split into two. More rooms, more business, he said, but as soon as the rooms were ready, he got arrested and the business slumped. Mine is the first room on the right.”
“And Tara?”
“She’s in the last room.” Gita gave me a push. “Hurry, get her and get out of here.”
I nodded, and then suddenly remembered. “Gita, my chador. Can I have it back?”
“Huh, what do you need your chador for, you funny girl?” Gita pulled out my chador, and I quickly stuffed it into my bag. “Bye,” whispered Gita. The door shut.
I was alone. I leaned against the wall and locked my hands together, to stop them from trembling. My feet were clumps of concrete. I had to move. I reached the last door on the right and pressed my ear against it. No sound. I curved my fingers around the doorknob and turned. It was stuck. I tried again. It didn’t budge. I tried harder, but my fingers slipped. How could it be locked? Was Tara even inside? I slammed my body against the door and winced at the stabbing pain. My hairpins. Fumbling, I pulled them out, bent two pins, slid one and the other into the lock and tilted them up. But the doorknob stuck. I drew the pins out, wiped them dry, and stuck them in again. Remembering Bushra’s instructions, I ran one over the other and then bent the other. A click. Twisting the lock, I shoved the door open.
36
It was dark. The ceiling fan creaked. I dropped the bag and stepped inside. The room was empty. I squinted, trying to see into the shadows.
Choking back a shout, I lunged towards the mattress. My hands shook as I flung back the sheet. It was Tara. My other half. My twin. Finally!
“Tara, wake up. It’s me. Wake up,” I whispered, gently shaking her. Why was I crying?
Tara moaned. I shook her again, but there was no response. I felt her pulse. Steady. I pinched her cheek. Nothing. “Wake up, it’s me,” I whispered. There was no answer. Was she drugged? I swerved around. My gaze skimmed over the room. It was empty except for a ceramic lamp on a wooden shelf. I hurried to the curtains, opened the latch, and pushed at the glass windows. A breeze wafted between the thick bars. A jigsaw of uneven rooftops stretched as far as I could see. There was no way out from here. I crouched, hauled Tara into a sitting position, and shook her again. “Tara, it’s me, wake up.” Seeing Tara’s lids flicker, I lost my balance and sprawled on top of her. She lay limp and unmoving. A dead weight. I had to get help.
Pushing back, I stopped to stare at the floor. Puzzled, I brushed my fingers over the silver sheen on the carpeting. The empty strips from Sehr Madam’s pills! They had fallen out of my bag. Bending to gather them, I suddenly stopped. My heart slammed against my chest and raced.
I had just figured how to get us out of this place.
I scooped the foil strips and stuffed them back into the bag. Done. I pulled Tara up against my chest and froze as the doorknob turned and the door creaked. A beam of light slanted inside. I held my breath and then let go. It was going to be okay. Limp with relief, I lugged Tara towards the door.
“Zara, I’m so sorry …” began Gita.
37
Eyes pinched tight, I lay numb and motionless, pinned under the stranger. Screams died inside my parched throat. Thick hard fingers groped and prodded between my thighs. What was he doing?
I cried out. Pain knifed and shot up to my belly, again and again. It ripped down into my legs, to the soles of my feet. Ripping. Tearing. I gasped, trying to breathe. I wasn’t here. I counted. Seconds. Minutes. It had to stop. This couldn’t be happening. Not to me. With a grunt, the weight rolled off.
I heard the rustle of the starched shirt, the pants being zipped up. The door creaked open and shut. I lay unmoving. It was over.
No. It would never be over.
In a terrifying blur, Gita had dragged me into the other room. I’d stared in disbelief when a young, clean-shaven man, looking like he belonged behind an office desk, had emerged from the shadows. Gita had slipped out. I had shrieked then, but the man had clamped his long fingers over my mouth. I stared up now. Moths danced a frenzied dance around the naked lights. I would be okay if I didn’t blink. But wait
. Tara. I had to get to her.
I tried to move, but my legs jammed. Emptying my mind, I bent to pull up my shalwar and froze. Dark streaks. I felt my thighs, and my fingers came up red. Blood. More blood. Shivering, I crouched on the floor, but then jerked up as my hands felt the notes: wads of hundred-rupee notes. For me? For my blood? My stomach cramped. Bile surged up. I had to get out. Grabbing the cash, I rushed out and to the next room.
Tara was still there.
Staggering, I dropped to her side, curved my body around hers, and held tight. I shut my eyes. I was drained and spent. My head lolled. I drifted, sinking.
Thub-dub. I opened my eyes. Thub-dub. Faint, steady heartbeats. Tara’s and mine. From birth. My pulse flickered. A surge roared through me. We weren’t dead. We had to get out before they killed us.
I shot up, hauled Tara out to the landing, and ran back to the room. I grabbed the bag of sleeping pills and the ceramic lamp and hurried back to the landing. My heart raced as I scattered a handful of the empty silver strips around Tara’s hands. Standing by the railing, I heaved the lamp above my head and let go.
A crash. Silence for a second. Then screams splintered the air.
38
Cries soared, doors banged, and footsteps echoed. A wailing swelled in the air. I sprinted back to the room and peered out.
“What happened?” boomed Auntie.
“It’s God’s wrath,” cried a shrill voice. “We’ve been punished.” Shrieks muffled her voice.
“Shut up, shut up,” roared Auntie. The noise subsided. “Any men still inside?”
“No, none,” called a girl. “But Kiran’s foot is bleeding. There’s blood all over the floor.”
“Enough. Everyone return to your rooms. Did you hear me? I said, now!”
“But Auntie look, Kiran’s foot!”
“It’s just a scratch,” growled Auntie. “Kiran, stop being a baby. Seema, take this wretch to the kitchen and bandage her up. More clients will be here soon, so hurry. She can rest in her room if she likes, but no one else. And mop up this mess. I’m going up. God’s wrath, my foot!”
I saw Gita’s head pop out of the doorway. She began to walk towards the landing. Another door opened, and a tall girl in a red chemise slipped out. Gita had reached the landing. For a second she stood staring down and then reeled back, and shrieked.
“Shut up!” shouted Auntie. “Howling like bitches in heat, what’s wrong with you all tonight? I said that I’m coming.”
Wrapping my chador low over my forehead, and up to my nose, I hurried out. It was time. I had to make the plan work.
“What’s this?” Auntie’s voice cracked as she heaved herself up the stairs. “Oh God, Oh dear God.”
Seeing Auntie’s heavy-lidded eyes and fleshy face up close, I cringed. How could Amma and Abba have trusted her?
“She’s unconscious,” murmured Gita. “But breathing, thank God.” She cradled Tara’s head on her thighs.
A group of girls crowded at the top of the stairs.
“I told you it’s God’s wrath.”
“What happened to her?”
“Overdose?”
“Good riddance. She always thought she was better than us.”
Auntie swung towards them and snarled. “Get down. You hear?” She squatted down and clutched the silver foil. “Where did she get these pills from, and so many? Only Kamran Beta is allowed to give her medication. I’ve never seen him with this one. And how did she manage to walk out of a locked room, throw the lamp down and then faint?”
Gita shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve been in my room since I got here.”
Auntie’s eyes narrowed. “She’s acting. Slap her!”
“That’s right,” muttered a girl at the landing.
Auntie swivelled round, “Didn’t I tell you whores to go down?”
“But …” protested a girl.
“One word, just one more word, and you’ll be sorry,” screamed Auntie, and the girls fled down. “Slap her!” ordered Auntie.
“Auntie, no,” protested Gita.
“Now!” hissed Auntie, her lips drawn back. Gita pulled her hand back and smacked Tara’s face. I clenched my fists. What did they want to do, kill her?
“Again, harder.” Sweat glistened on Auntie’s face.
“Auntie, she’s not acting,” protested Gita. “Believe me, she’s unconscious and barely breathing. What if we hurt her?”
Auntie shut her eyes and rocked back. “Oh God, If something happens to this wretch, he’ll never forgive me. Oh God, help me.”
“Call Kamran Saab,” suggested the girl in the red slip.
“Are you mad?” growled Auntie. “He must never find out. I’m tempted to throw her in the garbage dump. She’s been nothing but a nuisance since he brought her here.”
“You can’t,” protested Gita. “She’ll be discovered in the morning. And we don’t need another police raid.”
“Gita’s right,” said the girl in the red slip. “Better you take her to a private doctor. But tell them you found her on the street so they can’t trace her to …” Her voice trailed off.
“Yes, there’s a clinic in the main market,” urged Gita. “I’ve been there. It’s open all night. The doctor is good and doesn’t ask too many questions.”
Auntie spat on Tara and got to her feet. “She deserves to die.”
“I would go with you but I have another client coming,” said Gita.
“Yes, me too,” said the girl in the red slip.
“I can go,” I croaked. I stepped forward.
Auntie’s eyes bulged. “You?” She swung towards Gita. “Who’s she?”
“I told you, I met her at …” began Gita.
“Ah yes, the new girl,” cut in Auntie. “You brought her, right? How did you meet her?”
“At a birthday party. She wanted the extra cash. She’s done, but don’t take her. She needs to get back home.” Gita frowned at me.
“Then who should I take?” demanded Auntie “You’re all busy. She’s covered up too, unlike you whores. Oh wait, did you get the bonus on her? She was a new one, right?”
“Yes.” Gita flushed. “I’ve put it in your room.”
“Good,” said Auntie. She grunted and narrowed her eyes at Gita and the girl in the red slip. “Nobody tells Kamran Saab anything! Is that clear? Now get lost, both of you.” She watched the girls walk back and turned to me, “Let’s go. I need to get my bag and glasses first. Can’t see a damn thing in the dark. Didn’t you hear? I said pick the wretch up.”
My legs trembled, trying to haul Tara up. “Hurry,” ordered Auntie and yanked Tara up from under the other shoulder. “Throwing down a lamp like that. Where does she think the money for a new one will come from?” Hauling Tara between us, we began to trudge down the stairs.
By the time we reached the last few steps, Auntie was wheezing. Her breath came in short spurts. “Wait here,” she rasped as we reached the ground floor.
A few minutes later, she reappeared with a small bag. “Can’t find my glasses. These wretches must have hidden them,” she muttered, lumbering ahead and pushing the door open. Taking the hint, I dragged Tara out, lowered her across the stairs, and straightened up.
Qadir sprawled on his chair with his head flung back, snoring heavily.
“Look at him,” growled Auntie. “If Kamran Saab caught him, that would be the end of him.” She squatted on the steps and began to fan herself. “What are you standing around for? Leave your bag here and go get a rickshaw. You know the way, right?” I nodded, afraid to speak. Turning to go, I hesitated. I didn’t want to leave Tara alone with her. “Are you going or …”
“How do I get out? The gate’s locked.” My voice shook. I had to pull myself together.
Auntie looked at me oddly. “The key should be under the floor mat. Check there.”
Metal gleamed against the dark floor. My fingers fumbled. The lock clicked, and I sprang to hide the key back under the mat. With a last look at Tara, I pushed t
he door open and shot out through the narrow opening.
39
I hurried down the road towards the rubbish heap. A mangy dog bounded away with a kitten locked in his jaw. My gut heaved. What had I done? I shook my head. I hadn’t done anything.
“Zara?” Omer’s voice rang out. I saw him rushing up, with Saleem close behind him. I took a deep breath. I had to shut down my spinning mind. I had to stop the howling inside my head. I had to be someone else. For Tara’s sake, I had to pretend I was the same as before.
Within minutes we huddled on the deserted roadside. In a few jumbled sentences, I related the events, from when I’d found Tara to how I’d planned the escape, skipping the part from when Gita had opened the door to when the man had left. I looked up to see Omer staring at me. My voice had sounded wobbly even to me. My heartbeat slammed in my ears. Did he suspect my story?
“I can’t believe you got her out,” exclaimed Omer. “I don’t know how you did it. But right now, you need to get Tara out of here. Are you still planning to go to the professor’s place?
“Yes, but I’ll need a rickshaw.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. They believed me. I should have been relieved. But I felt sick.
“I’ll get you one.” Omer jumped up. I watched him leave.
“You okay?” asked Saleem.
I nodded without looking up.
“You have to know I wanted to come to see you before but …” began Saleem. I swung my head up. Our eyes met. I couldn’t listen to this. Not now. I began to tremble, and my eyes stung.
“Saleem, you coming?” called Omer. Throwing me a curious look, Saleem went after Omer.
I watched them approach the rickshaw driver. Speaking in a low tone, Omer drew out a wad of notes and gestured towards me. The driver shrugged and shook his head. Omer and Saleem exchanged a quick look. Saleem pulled out another handful. The driver grabbed it and grinned. He headed towards the rickshaw and Omer and Saleem followed.