Mishti leaned over and examined Daly with wide eyes. "Arey, you are not well! When we reach, Mummy will make a tasty cha for you. You will be much better."
Daly nodded and focused on the road, attempting to reduce her motion sickness. One hand held the silk dupatta securely over her mouth and nose; she extended the other behind Mishti in a desperate attempt to gain stability. Luckily, her nausea did lessen as the vehicle idled in the thick city traffic.
Unluckily, Daly somehow captured the attention of an orphaned street girl, who couldn't have been much older than five. The little girl waddled over to them, propping up a naked baby on her nonexistent hip.
She held out her free hand and jabbed it into Daly's side. "Please, didi. Rupia dengi." The whiteness of her eyes glistened from the swirl of dark—dark hair, dark eyes, dark skin.
Although Daly understood just one of the words in the young beggar's plea, she understood the child needed money. Reaching into her pocket and pulling out a twenty dollar bill, she hoped the little girl would be able to find some means of getting the currency converted.
The urchin's eyes grew wide with excitement. Twenty American dollars translated to roughly nine hundred Rupees—a small fortune. Rather than accept the charity gracefully, the girl began to climb into the auto-rickshaw and grope ravenously at Daly's pocket.
"Hut!" Mishti spat in disgust, reaching across Daly to push the child out of the vehicle as they began to creep forward once more.
The little girl ran alongside the auto, until the added weight of the infant became too much of a hindrance and she had to stop.
Daly was so shocked that she forgot to keep her mouth closed, and broke out in another fit of coughs.
Mishti's normally playful tone turned serious. "Dolly, you cannot do that. If you give them anything, they will only demand more. Leave it, yaar."
Mishti's callous attitude toward the poor children in need amazed Daly, as did the manner in which the child had reacted to her aid. She would listen to Mishti's advice for now, but later, she'd ask Kashi about it. The thought of the poor little girl made her queasy all over again.
She was relieved when they finally reached the three-bedroom apartment shared by Mishti, her parents, and Chai-ji.
She and Mishti were the first to arrive, so they sat outside in the public courtyard to wait. Daly scanned the grounds and building—old and dusty but otherwise well maintained. Dirt was everywhere, not a green thing in sight.
Mishti kicked at the ground with her pronged sandal, dirtying the nylon socks that stuck out like weird foot-mittens. "You and Kashi are in love, isn't it? It's okay, you can tell me." She glanced up at Daly as her face stayed angled toward the ground, making her look uncharacteristically coy.
The words erupted before Daly could stop them. "Well... yeah, but he said we weren't supposed to tell anybody in India. That here, we're just friends."
"Yah, Mummy-Papa might suspect something, but they will trust what Kashi has told them. And don't worry! I really like you, so they will too. Just Indian parents have a very hard time understanding things like love. I understand though... I was in love once."
Daly was about to politely ask for details when the rest of the caravan pulled into the apartment complex. The whitewashed walls cast a long shadow over the moving throng as they approached Daly and Mishti. Intricate holes in the architecture flung spotted shadows on Kashi's face and chest making him look like a leopard.
Within an instant, Mishti's expression transformed from melancholy to exuberant. She hopped to her feet, her owl eyes open wide again. Daly practically expected her to hoot.
Kashi's mother, Meenu Auntie, stepped out from a taxi, which Daly noticed appeared far more comfortable than the vehicle she had traveled in.
Spotting Mishti, Meenu broke into a harangue. "Oh-ho, Mishti, she is looking so sick," she chided, motioning toward Daly. "I told you not to take her in the auto-rickshaw, not so soon after reaching India. This is too much!"
She put her arm around Daly and her tone grew warm. "Come, bachcha, we will rest upstairs while Akash and Papa say bye-bye to the others."
Meenu Auntie removed a cream-colored cardigan from her shoulders and wrapped it around Daly, leading her gently up the exterior staircase. "After some time, we will have a nice cha."
Meenu Auntie and Mishti fussed over Daly upstairs, positioning her on a stiff, red couch and placing a thick quilt over her legs. A few minutes later, the immediate family members joined them. Nine adults and a baby crowded into the small apartment’s drawing room. An assortment of plastic patio furniture was brought in from the balcony to serve as additional seating.
Mishti squeezed between Daly and Kashi on a couch meant for two. Chai-ji sat in a comfortable-looking armchair, her walker resting in front of her. Uncle and Auntie, the names insisted on by Kashi's parents even though they bore no relation to her, took up residence on the other couch, with their daughter Priya nestled between them holding baby Ritesh on her lap. Priya's husband Vijay sat in one of the plastic chairs, as did Kashi's other sister, Jaya.
Daly remained quiet, dipping cake rusk into her chai—or cha as the Malhotras preferred to call it—watching the family welcome Akash back into their fold. A giant woven tapestry hung on the opposite wall. It showed horses running freely in the wild—almost as if they could break free of the threads binding them and trample the family underfoot. Daly wondered if her family could have been like this had her father lived. She glanced over at Jaya, who was typing furiously on her Blackberry.
Mishti followed her line of vision and leaned over to whisper in Daly's ear. "Jaya is obsessed with work. She is a computer engineer for a big U.K. company in Bangalore, far from here. She's married to her work, and does not want to have a marriage with a man. She makes Mummy-Papa very unhappy, but at least she is here now, since Kashi is home. She will stay for some time, always doing her work, then after a few days, she will return to her city and won't come back again for maybe a year. She is a very modern girl, perhaps too modern."
Jaya reminded Daly of her own mother, if one were to substitute the Blackberry for a dog-eared copy of Lady Chatterley's Lover. She wondered if Jaya harbored some secret story of hurt. Love lost appeared to be a common phenomenon in this place.
Daly did her best to follow the stream of conversation, although she had trouble understanding when the speakers unwittingly slipped into Hindi or Punjabi, and then back into English.
Kashi, she noticed, was the most prone to speaking in a language other than English—he probably missed the pitter-patter of the soft syllables in his mouth, having been in the States for such a long time. Despite her best attempts to stay alert, Daly yawned time and again, and as the family continued to chatter in their special trilingual mixture, she began to nod off.
Mishti tapped Daly's arm and roused her back to semi-consciousness. "Follow me, Dolly. You will sleep in my room." She motioned toward the queen-sized bed. "Don't worry, I am a very gentle sleeper. You get some rest now, and we will get to know each other more in the morning."
***
Three hours later, the city's morning chorus pounded Daly's eardrums—honking traffic, shouting street vendors, and chanting holy men. None cared to be quiet, despite the early hour. Try as she might to block out the noise by resting a pillow over her ears, she couldn't escape the persistent call of, "Saag at just thirty rupees per kilo," by a particularly irritating merchant. Careful not to disturb Mishti, she crept out of bed and padded into the drawing room.
Kashi sat curled on the couch under a heavy red quilt, cradling a steaming cup of chai. "Couldn't sleep either?"
Daly shook her head and took a seat next to him.
"It's always hard the first few days back in India. You need to get used to the loud noise early in the morning, and the stiff beds." Bringing a hand to his lower lumbar, he winced in pain.
"Is anyone else up?" Daly yawned and wiped the residue of sleep from the corners of her eyes.
"Not yet, but Mummy will
wake up around seven to start preparing breakfast."
They sat in silence for a few moments. Daly hoped her hair was not too messy, but no way could she hide the bags under her eyes. She must look lovely.
"Hey, come with me. I've got something to show you." Kashi led her out of the apartment and up a long flight of stairs, then opened a hatch door that led to the rooftop terrace.
"This was my favorite place as a kid. See those plants? That was my garden. Now Mishti takes care of it for me."
She smiled at the garden, recalling her own pet flower back at the zoo, and walked over to the edge of the terrace to look out over the bazaar. She spotted her new enemy, the saag vendor, and muttered a curse under her breath.
Kashi came up behind her and put a hand on her waist. His scent trapped her, pulling her closer, and she shivered though the air was already warm.
"I thought we were only friends in India," she muttered, wanting both to turn into his embrace and to shove him away.
"That's just a show, Daly. You are much more than a friend to me, you know that." They shared their first Indian kiss.
"You know, this isn't how I pictured India," she said when they broke away. "I thought there would be all kinds of tall, old-fashioned buildings, and people singing and dancing in the streets, like they do in the movies we watched together."
He chuckled and gave her another quick peck. "People do sing and dance in the streets, though not exactly like they do in the films. Since this is marriage season in Delhi, we will probably see a bridal procession sometime soon. As for the buildings, you must remember this is one small part of an enormous city. If you want tall, old-fashioned buildings, I will show you a very tall, very old building. We can all go together today."
"Sure, but for now, I'm happy to have you all to myself." She closed her eyes and let his scent mingle with the smells and sounds of the exotic city.
***
Somehow, nine adults and one infant crammed into two Marutis that were meant to seat no more than four each. As the cars pulled up to the Qutub Minar's grounds, a weight rose from Daly's chest. She hadn't realized until now how arduous the basic task of living had become—not until the fresh air surrounding the monument entered and revitalized her.
A large crowd swarmed near the gates. Two lines formed for the security checkpoint—one fat, jagged line where the Indian nationals talked loudly, and one sparse, single-file line for foreigners. Mishti was assigned to keep Daly company while the rest of the family filtered into the Indian line. After a long wait, they reached the security checkpoint. The female guard seemed to take added liberties when frisking Daly.
Had they somehow thought she was storing weapons of mass terror in her B-cup bra? Whatever the case, she felt dirty and disrespected.
Once they received the all-clear, Mishti and Daly proceeded through the gate and waited for the rest of their party. When the others joined up with them, Rishi Uncle was yelling—or maybe he was just speaking very loudly. Daly could never tell the difference between anger and excitement, since Rishi and the other members of the family always seemed to be shouting.
"Yeh galat hai. Hamari ticket pachchis rupee, aur Dolly ki ticket do-so pachchis rupee! Yeh log chor hai."
Daly recognized her name, or at least the Indian version, and perked up. She was about to ask for a translation when baby Ritesh began to wail. Everyone insisted on doing their part to calm the unhappy infant.
Priya hummed a little melody and rocked him from side to side, Vijay rummaged through the diaper bag to find an extra blanket for the child, and the others made silly faces and sound effects.
Still wanting to know why they'd referenced her, Daly turned a questioning gaze toward Kashi, who simply shrugged. When he proved of no help, she turned to Mishti, who stood on tiptoe to whisper in Daly's ear, "Papa is angry because they charged two-fifty rupees for your entry."
Ouch! "I didn't realize it cost so much. I can pay." She reached into her shoulder bag, searching for her wallet.
"No, no, it's not that. Of course, you are our guest, and we will pay. Papa is angry because the price is only twenty-five rupees for us. They charged ten times the normal admission for you since you're a foreigner."
"Oh." Daly put the wallet back into her bag.
"Forget that, na? We are here to enjoy. See there!" Mishti traced her finger across the sky in pursuit of several bright Ringneck parrots, which were flying from the top of one tree to another.
"Wow, pretty," Daly mumbled. The price for the ticket still did not sit well with her, but since Mishti wouldn't let her get a word in, she resigned herself to their conversation.
"We had a parrot once, when we were little. But a naughty kitty came and snatched him right from his cage during the night."
"Oh my, how horrible!"
"It's okay. That bird was really annoying, anyway, always going qui qui, never letting us sleep properly. Always needing something, that bird."
Daly smiled and kept walking. Although she'd been in India for less than a day, her cheeks already stung from forcing a constant string of polite grins. Mishti especially had a talent for leaving her speechless. Luckily, she didn't seem to require a conversational partner in order to keep talking.
"Go to Akash, na? He knows a lot about the Qutub Minar. He'll teach you everything." Mishti gave her a little shove toward Kashi and skipped over to join her sister.
"Oh, Jaya baba!" Mishti said. "Why are you always tick-ticking away at your mobile? Enjoy this beautiful life. Why look down at that ugly little screen when you can look up and see the whole of this beautiful nature?"
It was hard to believe Mishti was actually a couple years older than Daly, since she seemed so much like an overgrown toddler.
Jaya sighed and placed her Blackberry back into her purse, with a cautious eye toward her parents.
"So you said you wanted tall, old-fashioned buildings. How's this one?" Kashi asked, tossing Daly a wink.
Her eyes followed the length of the tower two hundred and thirty-nine feet into the sky, all the way to its top. "Yes, that's pretty tall. How old is it?"
"The Qutub Minar is no less than eight hundred years old. It was built by the Mughals when they ruled over India. If I remember correctly, it was erected to celebrate an important military victory," he proclaimed, showing off bits of knowledge from his school days.
"How could they build such a beautiful thing to commemorate destruction?" Daly examined the red, white, and pink sandstone; the layered bricks came together to resemble a bunched group of straws held tightly together by a series of ornate stone bands. Daly was awed by the tower's stark power—a power that seemed proud, not evil.
"Oh, the Mughals had style, but even that they stole from us. You see, every Indian is born with an artist's spirit. We just choose to become engineers or doctors or pharmacists, as the case may be," Kashi said, laughing.
"I like it." Daly remained serious despite Kashi's jovial mood. She could just picture a raven-haired Rapunzel at the top of the tower, letting down her hair to her rescuer. "Totally romantic." Maybe she wasn't in that serious of a mood.
Kashi quirked an eyebrow. "Daly, you're pretty weird. The Qutub Minar is not a romantic place. For romance, you go to Taj Mahal."
"Well, then let's see the Taj, too. But there's no rule that says only one Indian monument can be beautiful and majestic. Right?"
"I guess not, but don't just stand and stare at the tower. The Qutub has much more than its minar. There are ruins all around here, and also the Iron Pillar."
"The Iron Pillar? What's that?"
"The Iron Pillar!" Mishti interjected as she hopped toward them. "It's my best monument. A magical thing."
Mishti ignored Daly's quizzical expression and hurried to the pillar, the rest of the family following in her wake.
"This pillar's even older than the tower," Kashi explained. "Twice as old, actually."
Daly worked out the math. "That would make it... sixteen hundred years!"
"Y
es, that's about right. Nobody knows how it was constructed, or how, after so many years, it doesn't sport a single bit of rust. India has brought in many big-name scientists to study the pillar, but no one can figure it out." He spoke as if recounting a ghost story around a summer campfire.
"It was originally built in worship of the Lord Vishnu, so most probably he has blessed this offering," Rishi Uncle explained. He held his hand to his heart in a reflexive symbol of worship, and bobbed his head from side to side.
"Yah," Mishti said, taking her eyes off the pillar to glance over her shoulder. "And that blessing from the God, it is a kind of magic. Anyone who is able to wrap their arms around it from the back and embrace the pillar fully, with fingers touching and all... that person will get whatever thing she wishes for. I used to try many times as a little girl, but my arms were just too short." She glanced down at her stubby appendages, shaking them out in disgust. "A few years ago, they put up this gate, so I cannot even try now that I am a bit taller."
Mishti returned her gaze to the pillar, then turned her attention to Jaya, who was immersed in her little electronic pocket world once again. With an exaggerated wink toward Daly, Mishti snuck up behind Jaya and wrapped her arms around her sister. Her fingers touched at the end of a complete, unbroken circle.
"It's too bad you aren’t magic, Jaya. I would get my wish!" Mishti hopped up excitedly, jerking her sister and causing the much-treasured Blackberry to crash to the earth.
"Ahh, Mummy, look what Mishti has done! She's so careless!" Jaya snarled, freeing herself from Mishti's embrace and turning away. She snatched the fallen gadget and jammed it into her purse in a huff.
"Mishti!" her father scolded. "Don't be so childish. You must behave like a grown woman now. This is not at all becoming."
"She always behaves in this way. She is no better than a small kid!" Jaya whined as she stormed off to the parking lot.
A Colorful Life: Drawn in Broken Crayon Page 14