Where the Secret Lies

by Gandhi, Malika

  ‘What will you do now?’ asked Mohan.

  Anjali looked around – she saw a dog wander in the street, heard cows in the distance but not a soul could be seen.

  ‘Does anyone else live in this village?’ she asked.

  ‘A few others are still here but they live on the other side of the village. Most have moved away. Two Muslim families stayed despite the murderous riots. They claimed India as their own country; I live alone in this part.’

  ‘Why don’t you move to the other side where you will be safe?’ suggested Anjali.

  ‘I have memories here – of my husband sitting on that chair, reading his paper and smoking a cigarette. I can’t leave my memories, it’s all I have.’

  ‘What about the safety of your children?’ Mohan asked.

  ‘They are good children. I love them very much...’ A thought struck her. ‘People who are moving from East Pakistan to India will surely need to find a place to live. These houses will be filled once more and I no longer will be alone. They will need someone to befriend and help them and I shall be here, waiting for them.’

  Mohan and Anjali had to smile at her zeal.

  ‘But where are you going? Where are you from?’ Jayshree asked them.

  ‘We have been separated from our families, we are going to Lucknow,’ said Mohan.

  Jayshree packed chapattis and condiments for Anjali and Mohan for their trip ahead. Jayshree mentioned she knew a man who owned a tonga and a horse and was having trouble keeping them.

  ‘You must be careful. The horse is temperamental. She loved her owner very much,’ Jayshree advised. ‘The owner is poor and cannot afford her.’

  The relief was evident on the man’s face as he shook Mohan’s hand.

  ‘God bless you,’ he said. ‘It is enough of a worry for us. We have seven children to feed. God bless you.’

  The horse stood to attention whilst they talked. The horse reminded Anjali of a similar horse she once knew of the name Chameli. She told the man about this. At this, the horse neighed. Anjali stepped closer and stroked the horse’s mane.

  ‘Is this Chameli, Chandu bhai’s horse? They lived in Rajkot?’ she asked.

  ‘You are correct. I am Chandu’s uncle. My brother and Chandu were both killed in a riot last month. I knew something happened; I felt it here in my heart. I found my brother and nephew dead outside their house. Chameli was alive but frightened. It took me a long time to gain her confidence. After I cremated my family, I brought Chameli here.’

  ‘Chandu was a nice man. I liked him,’ said Anjali quietly.

  The man stroked Chameli’s mane and said some words in her ear. She neighed.

  ‘Hello Chameli. Do you remember me? I am Anjali.’

  Chameli stamped her feet in what seemed like approval and Anjali laughed.

  The journey became tolerable and Anjali thanked God for Chameli. She thought about Chandu and his family and fought back tears.

  The skies grey, a rumble shattered the quiet ride. It would not be long before the storm arrived. Leaves took flight as the wind picked up.

  ‘Mohan ji, maybe we should stop,’ Anjali shouted above the noise of the wind.

  ‘We have to carry on. I know of a refugee camp not far from here. They can give us shelter,’ Mohan shouted back. He urged Chameli to gallop faster.

  Anjali huddled closer into the shelter of the cart, wrapping a shawl around her. Jayshree had given Anjali and Mohan some clothing of which she would not take payment for, until Mohan insisted.

  ‘Think of your children,’ said Mohan. ‘Please take the money. It will make us feel better.’

  Anjali thought about the kind woman when the rain arrived, drenching the road in minutes. Mohan was soaked as well as poor Chameli.

  ‘Mohan ji, we must stop,’ Anjali said again.

  Mohan slowed down and directed Chameli into the shelter of trees. Anjali passed him some dry clothes and turned away allowing him some privacy. Meanwhile, she fed Chameli an apple.

  As soon as the rain stopped, they were on the road again. Anjali fell asleep and woke up to a night sky; they were approaching a camp. It seemed to shelter

  Thousands of families like a small village. A uniformed man came to meet them.

  ‘Saab, we need shelter for one night,’ said Mohan.

  ‘What is your name?’ asked the officer.

  ‘Mohan Thakkar.’

  ‘Are you from Pakistan?’ he asked.

  ‘No saab.’

  ‘Is she your wife?’ he peered at Anjali.

  ‘No saab. She has lost her family.’

  The officer looked down his list. ‘Go to tent 125, settle, and have something to eat. You will need to fill in this form.’ He pushed a clipboard and a pen into Mohan’s hand.

  ‘What about the horse and the cart?’ Mohan asked.

  ‘You can take them over there; the horse will be looked after.’

  ‘Thank you Saab.’

  Mohan and Anjali sat side by side in the tent and drank hot chai. Many families were asleep. Every now and then, an officer walked past with a rifle in his hand.

  Everything seemed very well organised, Anjali thought. Perhaps they would be able to help find her family...

  ‘You should go to sleep. I will sleep over there,’ said Mohan indicating the other side of the tent.

  Anjali got under her blanket quietly but lay awake, too nervous to sleep.

  SEVEN

  It was early morning when Anjali woke up; Mohan was still fast asleep. Anjali stretched and walked outside, sighing in content. A sharp but pleasant wind greeted her upturned face and a morning hum filled the air as families opened their tents.

  The landscape varied on each side of the camp. One side consisted of unkempt hills and the other side a rocky terrain. Anjali estimated more than a thousand tents in this camp, which never seemed to end.

  The officers had exchanged duties too. Those on communication now patrolled and vice versa. There seemed to be around two dozen of uniformed charges. The tents were organised in areas with numbers and signs. Anjali was impressed with the level of organization given the circumstances.

  The animals and carts stood a short distance from the tents. The cows and horses munched on hay and grass from a narrow trough. Another trough housed water for the beasts.

  Anjali’s stomach grumbled, she searched for the food tent. A few yards away, a big sign read ‘KHANNA’, meaning Food.

  ‘Bhai saab, can I have something to eat?’ Anjali asked the tent supervisor.

  ‘It is five in the morning, breakfast is not served until six, but you may go in. The tea is ready,’ he said.

  Handling the hot cup, Anjali walked back to the tent. She sipped her chai sitting on a grass patch, watching the officers and soldiers work side by side.

  Around six thirty, Mohan came out of the tent and stretched. His glorious rough morning state nearly made Anjali drop her chai but she regained her composure. She tried to hide her blush.

  ‘Do you want breakfast or...’ Mohan nodded towards her chai.

  ‘I am famished. I was waiting for you,’ Anjali lied.

  A line had already formed outside the food tent as Mohan and Anjali joined the queue. The line moved frustratingly slow.

  ‘What time did you wake?’ Mohan stood very close to Anjali.

  ‘Very early,’ she answered, heat rising to her cheeks.

  ‘You look beautiful this morning. The scrambled hair suits you,’ Mohan said, his eyes twinkling.

  ‘Are you laughing at me Mohan ji?’ Anjali frowned as she tried to smooth her hair down.

  ‘I am sorry,’ said Mohan but Anjali saw the hint of a smile on his face.

  The line moved on.

  ‘Are we going to stop a few more times before we reach Lucknow?’ she asked.

  ‘No, Lucknow will be our last stop. An officer told me it isn’t so far from here.’

  Anjali noticed Mohan seemed distracted now and wondered again about his family. What was he hiding? Where w
ere his mother and father, his brothers and sisters? Did he have a wife and children too? Anjali felt a twang of jealousy and berated herself. Mohan is quite a few years older but... she thought but that kiss, those looks, and those words.

  ‘Anjali ji, we are at the front,’ Mohan cut into her thoughts.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she said and made herself focus on breakfast.

  After breakfast, Anjali went back to the tent and Mohan went to the enquiry desk. Anjali leaned against the tent pole closing her eyes briefly, when she heard crying.

  A young girl was crying outside the adjacent tent, holding a baby.

  ‘Why are you crying?’ Anjali asked, going to her.

  ‘I want my mother,’ the girl cried. ‘I don’t know where she is.’

  ‘Is she here in the camp?’

  ‘No,’ the girl shook her head. ‘We got separated...’ the girl’s big brown eyes sought Arianna’s compassion.

  ‘I remember Ma putting Bittu into my arms and telling me to keep safe. She hid us somewhere. I fell asleep and when I woke up; a uniformed man came and brought us here.’

  ‘What is your name?’

  ‘Preetu.’ The girl rocked the baby. ‘This is Bittu, my brother.’

  ‘What about your father?’

  ‘He was killed with my other brothers and sisters. Bittu and I...we escaped.’

  The baby woke and began to cry.

  ‘Can you help me? I don’t know if Bittu is hungry, I don’t know why he is crying,’ Preetu began to cry again.

  ‘Would you like me to take him for a while?’ Anjali asked. ‘My tent is over there. Don’t worry, I will not take him away from you, I am here to help you.’

  Preetu searched Anjali’s face for something – maybe trust?

  ‘If I go and get some milk, will you still be here?’ she asked.

  ‘I promise. Here, take this,’ Anjali took a gold ring off her finger and gave it to Preetu. ‘Now you can trust me.’

  Preetu handed her brother to Anjali with a watery smile and went to get the milk but before that, she gave the ring back. ‘I trust you,’ she said.

  Mohan came back.

  ‘Whose baby is this?’ he asked.

  ‘His sister has gone to get some milk. Poor girl, she is only a child...Mohan ji, she has no one. Her father, sisters, and brothers were killed. She does not know what happened to her mother. Mohan ji, can we take her with us?’

  ‘We can barely look after ourselves. She and the baby are safe here; they have food and shelter. I am sure the officers are trying to locate their mother.’

  ‘I am sure you are right,’ sighed Anjali.

  ‘I wish we could help but this is the way it is,’ said Mohan. ‘I’m sorry.’

  Anjali handed the baby over to Preetu who began to feed him straight away. Poor Bittu, he was very hungry.

  ‘This is Mohan ji,’ she told the girl.

  ‘Are you married to him?’ Preetu asked.

  Anjali laughed. ‘No, he is a friend.’

  ‘Tell me, how long have you been here?’ asked Mohan.

  ‘Three weeks,’ said Preetu. ‘I wait for my mother every day. I fear...’

  ‘Your mother will come for you, have faith in God.’

  ‘I miss her,’ Preetu cast her eyes down.

  Anjali put an arm around her and her eyes filled; she blinked them away furiously.

  ‘Mohan ji,’ said Anjali. ‘Would you...?

  ‘I will go and enquire,’ Mohan understood.

  Preetu was very tired and the baby had gone back to sleep. Anjali helped Preetu put the baby in the tent on some blankets and told her to get some sleep too.

  ‘What have you found out?’ Anjali asked as soon as Mohan came back.

  ‘They have located a woman asking for a daughter and a son. They fit the description Preetu had given to the officers.’

  ‘That is good news,’ said Anjali.

  ‘Perhaps, but the woman will not be here until after two days, and then it may not be her. The officers will not inform the girl yet, it wouldn’t be fair.’

  ‘Could we stay, at least until...?’

  ‘We are in no rush. I was thinking the same.’

  Mohan and Anjali became like a big brother and sister to Preetu. She laughed at Mohan’s jokes and relaxed in his company. She did not cry once. In the time Anjali knew Mohan; she never saw this side of him – he was usually uptight. She forgot about her own problems too.

  They waited for news on Preetu’s mother but as another night drew in, they saw Preetu begin to lose hope. Anjali looked after Bittu when Preetu was overwhelmed. Mohan helped too.

  Three days in, the mother had not come. Anjali suggested staying a little longer. Families and individuals arrived and left but still, there was no sign of the mother.

  Anjali wondered whether her family were looking for her too. A heavy weight entered her heart. She vowed she would go back to Rajkot, to her home, one day.

  Mohan came back from visiting the officers once again. He did not have good news.

  ‘The camp manager from the other side said the woman had left. He was astounded why she wasn’t here,’ Mohan said to Anjali.

  ‘I am sorry Preetu, but we must move on,’ Mohan said with a heavy heart.

  ‘I am grateful to you for staying this long with me,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry, my mother will come.’

  ‘Why don’t you and Bittu come with us?’ Mohan said. ‘I don’t like leaving you alone.’

  Preetu’s face lit up. ‘You mean that?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ said Mohan.

  Anjali hugged Preetu in delight.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said and hugged Mohan too.

  Preetu giggled and Mohan laughed but he did not let Anjali go.

  ‘I am glad too,’ he whispered.

  The decision was final; the group of four would travel to Lucknow that afternoon. Mohan drank his last refugee camp chai and Anjali played with Bittu.

  They heard a shrill scream.

  ‘Preetu!’

  Both Anjali and Mohan looked towards a large, short woman who came running towards them. She looked beaten and fragile.

  ‘Ma?’

  Preetu emerged from the tent and ran to her mother, tears streaming down her face.

  Anjali’s eyes blurred as mother and daughter embraced, touching each other’s face and arms.

  Preetu came back to her and Mohan with her mother. Anjali placed Bittu into his mother’s arms. His mother cried kissing his startled face, arms, and legs. Then she hugged Anjali and Mohan.

  Preetu’s mother held her chai and sipped it slowly. They were all sitting in Anjali’s tent. Bittu had gone back to sleep.

  ‘Ma ji, can you tell us how you lost Preetu and Bittu? asked Anjali.

  Preetu sat with her mother, holding her arm.

  ‘I saw Preetu’s Papa stabbed. Then one of them...did things to me,’ Preetu’s mother said heavily. ‘I almost died had it not been my will to kill the man. I found a knife lying a little way from me and I stabbed him!’ tears slid down her face. ‘I hid Preetu and Bittu and went back for the others but I was too late. I could not come back for them for I collapsed. When I awoke, I thought I had lost them as well.’

  Anjali and Preetu were crying freely now. Mohan was quiet. No one spoke for a long time. The mother broke the silence.

  ‘Thank you for looking after my children,’ she said. ‘I am indebted to you.’

  ‘We have grown fond of them in such a short time. You have good children,’ said Mohan.

  The mother clasped both Anjali and Mohan’s hands. ‘Thank you.’

  Mohan and Anjali said their goodbyes and left with Chameli. It would be quiet journey to Lucknow but their last one.

  ARIANNA

  EIGHT

  The morning pale light brought a cool and refreshing lift to Arianna’s state of slumber. She woke up smiling and eager to begin the day. Swinging her feet onto the cool marble floor, she turned to her still sleeping companions – Tianna
and Khushboo. Deciding to let them be, she tiptoed to the window and opened the curtains.

  Khushboo’s house overlooked a generally lively street where numerous cars, auto rickshaws, and taxis drove through, manoeuvring past vegetable and fruit vendors, pedestrians, cows and dogs.

  It was 6am and the milk boy was delivering milk to his customers. Other traders were beginning to set up stalls and the cart sellers were arranging their goods ready to sell to the people of Mumbai.

  Arianna loved this vibrant street; it was a vast contrast to her quiet, suburban street back home in London. She lived in a sleepy part of the city with cars parked in driveways or on roadsides. Sycamore Street’s wide pavement and large trees gave the area a nice suburban feel. The summers were great and in winter, the street resembled a Christmas card full of dotted snowmen on front lawns and driveways, twinkling fairy lights on trees with festive, plastic Father Christmas figures and reindeers on roofs.

  Arianna wondered how India celebrated Christmas...someone cleared their throat and Arianna turned around.

  ‘Good morning,’ said Khushboo. ‘You woke up early.’

  ‘Good morning,’ said Arianna.

  ‘What were you thinking about? You looked deep in thought.’

  ‘I was just watching your street. It is very different to my street in London.’

  Arianna told her about the summer fun and the lush greenery in London during summer, and about snow and Christmas.

  ‘Sounds magical,’ sighed Khushboo. ‘I have seen snow once only when we went to Simla. It was beautiful but very, very cold. Christmas in London – wow.’

  ‘Then, why don’t you come to London this Christmas? You will love it! I will show you the City, the lights and we will go to many parties and to the theatre too!’ Arianna said excitedly. ‘It will be brilliant!’

  ‘I would love that but Ma won’t agree,’ said Khushboo, her excitement ebbing.

  ‘Why won’t she agree? I am sure Papa would sponsor you to come, even the whole family,’ said Arianna. The thought of her relatives coming to London cheered Arianna up further.