by Payal Doshi
It didn’t surprise Rea that people like Mishti Daadi existed. She was old and had no one to take care of her. She did what she could to survive. And some people were dumb enough to believe anything you told them.
What stumped Rea was that Amma, who didn’t believe in such hoaxes, was inside the house of a fortune teller. For the life of her, Rea couldn’t figure out why she needed her fortune read. Amma had once said, “If someone had the power to change fate, I would be first in line.”
It was twenty past seven. Amma had been inside for fifteen minutes. A few feet away, a group of kids were playing hopscotch and Rea asked if she could join them. She didn’t mind young children. They were easy—all they cared about was playing without any chit-chat.
As she awaited her turn, Rea hoped Leela would show up for the cricket match. In her note, she’d implied that the cricket match was a birthday celebration for both her and Rohan. Technically, that wasn’t a lie. She and Rohan did share a birthday. As for Leela’s cricket playing skills, Rea didn’t care if she could bowl or bat. She simply needed the backup.
“Do people your age frighten you?” a female voice said from behind Rea. It was gravelly like a sore throat. “Or does your intelligence match that of a six-year-old’s?”
Rea’s heart sank. She knew that voice. She turned to find a group of girls from school, including the most feared girl in her class: Tara.
Tara was the self-proclaimed “most popular” girl at school. She was tall and gangly, her mouth caked in a cheap plum-colored lipstick. She was notorious for bringing others down with her unkind words, and Rea was often the target of her jokes. Rea’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. She turned her back on the girls and flung a stone into the chalk-drawn boxes. Playing hopscotch suddenly felt incredibly silly.
“I have to go,” she said.
The children whined.
“I’m sorry. I smell cow dung.”
It was literally the most childish retort she could’ve come up with. Rea turned to leave, but Tara blocked her.
“This is our village,” she said. “You don’t belong here, plantation girl.”
The rest of the girls placed themselves on either side of Tara, resembling Ravana and his ten heads. Rea tried to push her way through. She didn’t want to fight if she didn’t have to. But the girls blocked her path, making it impossible for her to leave.
Turning to face them, Rea tried to think of an insult that would get them to back away. “Don’t you have some potatoes to peel or boys to chase?” she asked.
“They chase after me,” Tara said, blowing air on her painted nails.
Rea cracked a smile. “Sure, they do.”
“You think you’re so smart, ha?”
“You’re catching on. Congratulations.”
“Keep talking like that and I’ll pound you into mutton curry!” The gang moved closer.
“Ooh, I’m scared.” Rea stepped back a little, hoping they wouldn’t notice. There was barely a foot between them.
“You should be scared. Or that hag will tell your Amma that her daughter’s future is in danger after running that mouth of hers.”
Rea stared, speechless. How did Tara know Amma was in Mishti Daadi’s house? She hadn’t seen anyone notice her mother and with the dupatta over her head, she’d barely been able to spot her herself.
“Maybe the old witch will ask for a lock of your Amma’s hair and fat from her inner thigh and cast a spell on her, so she can finally find a husband and stop being such a sour puss all the time!” one of the other girls said.
Rea balled her hand into a fist. She burned with shame. Angry, hurtful words crowded her head, but they turned into a knot inside her mouth. She tried to speak, but no words came out.
One of the other girls (Rea couldn’t remember her name) stepped forward. “Nothing to say?” the girl snickered. “Clearly, Rohan’s the one with the brains in the family!”
Just because Rohan did better than her at school didn’t mean she was dumb. Rea lunged forward and swung her fist, aiming for the cackling girl’s face. The girl dodged out of the way and Rea’s hand barreled through the air, hitting Tara on her lipstick-coated mouth. Rea’s punch landed hard. Blood spurted from Tara’s lip, dripping all over her chin.
“Pagal keti! You’re going to regret that!” Tara screamed and pushed her to the ground.
The girls surrounded Rea and started to kick her. She bit back her groans, keeping silent as the rough edges of their sandals cut into her skin. Fury flowed over Rea. She wished there was a way to hurt them for what they said, but there was only one of her and too many of them.
“Lost your will to fight, ha?” Tara wiped the trickling blood off her face. A streak of purple lipstick smudged across her cheek. “You make a lot of noise with that mouth of yours but when it comes down to it, you’re a phoosky firecracker—nothing but smoke and fizzle.”
Rea stood up slowly. She stared into the mean girl’s eyes, and then spat at Tara’s foot. It missed by an inch.
“Try that again and you’re dead meat.” Tara raised a fisted palm. Then she lowered it. “Think about this, Rea Chettri: If we were to beat you up and leave, who would come to your rescue?”
Rea’s heart beat fiercely.
“No one. Or did you forget you have no friends? You think you’re better than us, but the truth is, nobody wants to be your friend.” She stared Rea down, letting her words sink in. “I don’t even think your brother would come.”
Tara’s sneer curled into a smile.
“Oh, did I tell you?” She turned to the girls. “He said I could borrow those books he loves to read whenever I want!”
Hearing them gush over Rohan made Rea want to puke.
“Oy, what’s happening?” a farmer called out. He noticed Rea’s bleeding legs and Tara’s split lip and shook his head. “Chalo, it’s getting late.”
He waved his arms about, herding them like cattle. Tara threw Rea a scathing look and walked away. The man asked Rea if she was okay and she nodded. After he had passed by, she limped towards the stone well. Tara was right, she thought. If she were beaten up and couldn’t walk, who would she call?
Rea stared at the countless stones lying on the mud road. What did it matter that Amma was secretly getting her future read or that Rohan hadn’t invited her to his birthday game? This was her life. Nobody wanted to be a part of it. She reached to pick up her bicycle which had slipped to the ground—
Click.
The door opened and Amma stepped out.
In a second, Rea forgot her newfound acceptance of her life and ducked behind the well. Through the faint light of the living room, she saw Mishti Daadi, an old woman with wiry, white hair that fell to her thighs. Despite the distance, the red bindi pasted on her crinkly forehead ogled like an evil eye.
Amma bent to touch Mishti Daadi’s feet in reverence and the old lady stroked her head. Rea shuddered, imagining her papery-thin touch. They exchanged a few words and Amma turned to leave.
Rea waited until Amma disappeared down the road before mounting her bicycle. Speeding down one of the back roads, she headed for home.
Chapter 4
The Match at Midnight
The house groaned in the chill of the night.
After Amma had left Mishti Daadi’s house, she came home, had her dinner, and forced Rea and Rohan into bed early. Luckily Rea had made it back in time to change into her pajamas before Amma noticed her bruises and questioned her.
It was well past Rea’s bedtime and she could barely sleep a wink, not that she wanted to. She lay in bed, keeping warm under the blanket, most of which was taken up by Rohan. He tossed and turned.
At eleven thirty, the alarm, a black and white cat carrying a trombone, blared and Rohan quickly turned it off. He glanced at Rea. She shut her eyes and breathed evenly, hoping to trick him into thinking she was sleeping. He was convinced. Trying to move quietly, he got off the mattress, retrieved his bat and ball, put on his shoes, and slipped out of the house. Wh
en the front door clicked shut, Rea threw on a pair of leggings and a t-shirt and followed him.
A bald moon outlined the road with its milky touch. Leela was waiting behind a chestnut tree between their houses. Despite it being the middle of the night, her hair was combed into two neat braids. Rea hadn’t bothered to look in the mirror. Now she wondered if her hair was sticking out at weird angles the way it usually did when she woke up.
Rea waved to Leela and placed a finger on her lips. If anyone heard them, their Ammas would be alerted and they’d be Dead with a capital D. Setting off together, they trailed Rohan at a safe distance. Every time he turned, Rea slipped behind a tree or stood stock-still. Leela, giddy with excitement to be included, copied her without questioning why they were hiding from Rohan, which was a relief to Rea. Soon, boys of all ages and sizes appeared from dark houses and joined the silent march. Rea felt a thrill deep in her bones.
Twenty minutes later, the party assembled at Scenic Point, a flat gravelly scrap of land that overlooked panoramic views of the tea plantations and the majestic Himalayas. But at this hour of the night, the view dropped into a shadowy abyss. Young lovers sat close, hidden under shawls or dupattas. A grove of trees surrounded the area, secluding it from the village and creating the perfect boundary line for the game. The moon dominated the sky and starlight shone—a twinkling across a coat of black—and nearby streetlamps provided backup.
Rohan glanced over his shoulder. Rea grabbed Leela and hid behind a marigold bush.
“What’s wrong?” Leela asked, confused.
Rea shushed her, waiting for the boys to finish setting up. In no time, they had outlined the batting pitch, built makeshift stumps with branches while using twigs for bails, and kept extra balls aside in case any got lost. They used tennis balls instead of the red-leather cricket balls as they didn’t hurt as much if someone got hit. When they were done, Rohan, the captain, (obviously) dug out a coin from his pocket and tossed it into the air. Before it landed, Rea emerged from the shadows.
“We want to join, too,” she declared.
There was a moment of pin-drop silence. Then a ruckus broke out. The boys cursed Rohan for inviting the girls and the younger ones stuck out their tongues, making faces.
“W-we weren’t invited?” Leela’s carrot-colored spectacles slipped down her nose.
Rohan marched towards them.
“What are you doing here?” He glared at Rea.
“We’ve come to play,” she said, squaring her shoulders and readying for a fight.
“NO! You weren’t invited. In fact, how did you even know about the match?”
“Well, those two—” Rea pointed at the boys she had eavesdropped on, “couldn’t stop talking about it at school so I found out. Anyway, we’re here now. Are you up for the challenge?”
“Please go home.”
“Let’s leave…” Leela said, tugging Rea’s arm. Her eyes darted nervously between Rohan and the riled-up boys.
“I’d listen to her if I were you,” said Rohan.
Rea’s blood boiled. This was her brother. If no one else was going to be on her side, shouldn’t she at least be able to depend on him?
“Guess I’ll have to tell Amma what you’re up to then.”
Rea smiled as Rohan’s face fell. He knew she would actually do it.
“Ugh, Rea,” Rohan grimaced. “Why do you have to ruin my birthday?”
“It’s mine too, in case you forgot.”
A flicker of guilt passed his eyes, but he stayed quiet.
“Suit yourself. Can’t say I won’t enjoy Amma’s reaction when she finds out what you’re up to.”
Rea walked away and Leela hurried after her.
“FINE! You can play,” he said, and a shower of insults exploded from the boys. “It’s her birth—you know what, she’ll get us into trouble. We don’t have a choice...”
The boys groaned, and Rea grinned, jogging back towards them. Seeing that the coin was going to be tossed again, Leela ran and stood beside Rea. Rohan’s team won the toss and chose to bowl first.
“Both teams will play one innings each of ten overs with six balls per over,” the umpire said.
“And each team gets one girl so both teams bear an equal disadvantage,” Rohan said spitefully, and the others unanimously agreed.
Rea mentally cursed him, but soothed herself knowing they would soon be eating their words. When the teams were made, the umpire, the son of a milkman, whistled sharply and the match began. Within minutes, the rift between the boys and girls was forgotten. Both teams rooted for their players and booed their competition. Rea didn’t consider herself to be a great batter so she sat on the sidelines with the rest of her teammates while two of their ace batters were on the batting pitch. Forty minutes later, the first innings ended and Rea’s team had scored well.
Finally, the second innings began and the teams swapped places with Rea’s team taking the field to bowl. Rohan and another batter from his team walked out to bat.
Rea took them by surprise with her bowling skills. She’d shake things up by throwing a spin ball right after three fast-paced balls. The batsman would get flummoxed and one by one the wickets started to fall. Her team burst into hoots, high-fiving and chest bumping her.
Leela held her own, too. She was the first one to whack Rea’s ball for a six and they watched open-mouthed as the lemon-yellow ball soared through the sky, glinting in the moonlight and getting lost in the trees. Leela shrieked with joy.
An hour later, the match was down to its last over, the final six balls. The score was close. Rea’s team was leading by six runs. Her captain called for a timeout and the fielders and wicket-keeper ran over, forming a circle around him.
“They need seven runs to win. We can do this, boys!” The captain was tall and athletic, his skin the color of almonds. “But I’m going to need a bowler who won’t cost us any runs. One easy ball and the game is theirs.”
Everyone nodded.
“Rea, you’ve been our best bowler today. This is your responsibility now.”
Pride surged within Rea. She had earned her place in the team! Her teammates cheered, slapping her on the back as she took the ball from her captain’s hands.
“I won’t let you down.”
As she walked towards the pitch, Rohan adjusted his batting stance. All she had to do was either get him out or make sure she didn’t give away any runs. Rea spat on the ball the way bowlers did on TV, and taking her aim, she threw a medium-paced ball. Rohan swung hard but too early to make contact, and the wicket-keeper behind him caught the ball. He grunted like an animal, kicking in his heels. Rea bowled the next ball, faster this time. It hurtled towards him and as he swung at it, the ball nicked the corner of his bat, dribbling off to the side. Two fielders dove for the ball and missed the catch, but Rohan couldn’t risk taking a run.
Applause broke out from Rea’s team while the other team sat silent. Rohan took his stance again, chest heaving, and bat hovering mid-air. Rea let loose another fast-paced ball.
CLANK!
“Four!” screamed Rohan’s team.
“Catch it!” yelled Rea’s team.
“No ball!” shouted the umpire.
The ball shot through the air. Rohan’s team cheered so loudly that birds awoke, chittering sharply. Rea’s heart sank. She had bowled a no-ball by overstepping the bowling crease and Rohan hit it for a four. That gave his team five runs and an extra ball to play. All they needed was one run to tie the match and two to win, and there were four more balls to go.
Pangs of desperation hit Rea. Her teammates patted her, telling her to stay calm, to keep it simple. She couldn’t afford another stupid mistake or the game would be Rohan’s. For the next three balls, she altered with the pace and delivery. Unable to anticipate what she was going to throw next, Rohan couldn’t make contact with the ball.
Neither of the teams made a sound. The match was too close. It was down to the final ball of the game. Rohan’s eyes locked onto Rea�
�s. He was expecting her to bowl a fast-paced ball. She could feel it in her gut.
As she ran the ten paces to the bowling line, Rea aimed the ball at his leg. When she let it go, the ball bounced in a slow, neat spin. Rohan leaped forward and swung hard.
The ball slipped under his bat and the middle stump flew out of the ground, the twig-bails twirling in the air like confetti. The umpire raised his arm above his head with his forefinger up in the air, signaling Rohan was out. Rea’s team jumped, screaming and whistling as Rea stood still. They had won the match!
Her teammates hugged Rea and carried her on their shoulders. The night air danced around her. The stars dazzled like crystals. When the boys lowered her, Rohan and his teammates slumped towards their belongings, packing up to go home.
“I’m sure you’ll do better next time,” Rea said, tossing Rohan a ball. He hesitated for a fraction, but his reflexes kicked in as the ball reached him, and he caught it.
“See, getting better already!”
Rohan turned away. He picked up his bat and tennis ball and headed down the road.
“Hey,” she called out. “Happy birthday!”
Rohan’s shoulders tightened, but he didn’t turn around. Giggling, Rea turned to her new friends. The events of the day fizzled from her mind and she even congratulated Leela on her impressive batting skills. Leela beamed and joined in the cheers, louder than some of the boys. Rea had no idea how long they spent recounting every ball bowled and hit, but by the time she got home she was so tired, she fell asleep the moment her head touched the pillow.
Chapter 5
A Crimson Piece of Paper
“ROHAN!” Rea gasped as her eyes shot open. She sat up on the mattress, her heart racing and her neck wet with sweat. Then she sighed with relief. It was just a nightmare. She tried to remember the details but they slipped away. She glanced to her side, but Rohan wasn’t there.