“I went to the temple last week. It’s already working. Have you been this week, Noor?”
“Yes, Ma. Shall I go again?”
“Yes, go tonight. We must give thanks. Have you done your homework?”
“I’ll do it now. I just need to feed the children first.” I didn’t tell her I was meeting up with Grace and Parvati, both of who were eager to hear about my first day back at school. Ma still didn’t know about Grace, or why the school had decided not to expel me. She thought it was her own appeal that had convinced the principal to let me stay.
“Don’t neglect your studies. You mustn’t give them any excuse to try to get rid of you again.”
I picked up the cup of tea she’d drained. “Would you like anything before I go, Ma? I could brush your hair or massage your feet.”
“No, just send Aamaal up. I never see that child anymore.”
I nodded, then leaned over and gave her a quick hug. She brushed me away.
I picked up Shami on my way out and found Aamaal, where I knew she’d be, still playing with Lucky. That goat was a better childminder than I’d ever be.
“Go inside and change, Aamaal. You can put your uniform away and give Ma a hug.”
“Is Ma okay today?”
“Yes, I wouldn’t have told you to go to her otherwise. Don’t ask stupid questions.”
She ran off and I immediately regretted my harsh words. It was my jealousy rearing up. The sight of Aamaal would cheer Ma in a way that I never could. I sometimes wondered if Ma actually knew Aamaal’s father, maybe even loved him. I’d never known Ma to have a serious boyfriend the way many of the aunties did. She said a boyfriend was just one more man stealing your cash, which was true. Most aunties ended up supporting their boyfriends, even if the relationships didn’t start out that way.
One thing was certain. Ma never loved my father, black dung beetle that he must have been. Whatever Gajra said about the new India, my too-dark skin, several shades darker than Ma’s own, couldn’t help but disappoint her. It was no wonder she preferred Aamaal.
When Aamaal returned, we headed for the café where Parvati and I had agreed to meet Grace. Parvati was supposed to be waiting for us in an alley just one lane over from our house. She wasn’t at our meeting place, but I’d told her to go on ahead if Suresh was already on the hunt for her. I could only hope that was what she’d done.
The café we’d chosen was a long walk from Kamathipura. It was part of a large, modern chain, so a safe place for the foreigners to wait and the last place Suresh would think to look for Parvati. A single coffee there cost more than three times what a man would pay for our mothers. I wouldn’t be wasting any of Ma’s earnings on refreshments, so I bought Aamaal and Shami a couple of vada paav at a street stall on the way. The potato fritter in a bun wasn’t a favorite of either of my siblings but at only ten rupees it was a regular standby.
I was disappointed, thirty minutes later, when we finally walked through the door, sweaty and tired, to find Grace sitting by herself. No Parvati.
“You came alone?” I said, glad she’d left VJ Patel behind.
She was at a table with four chairs. Aamaal immediately plopped herself down in one and looked around with interest. This wasn’t the kind of place any of us was used to. I’d been carrying Shami on the long walk over, so I was happy to drop him in his own chair. Only when I’d sat as well did I notice other patrons eyeing us strangely. Most of them were in western dress. The few in salwar kameez wore the plain, tailored, high-fashion kind that I’d usually seen only on billboards, so unlike the boldly colored, ill-fitting, street-stall kind Aamaal and I wore.
“My mom doesn’t know I came alone,” said Grace. “I had to take a taxi because I told her VJ’s driver was bringing us.”
“He didn’t want to come?”
“I didn’t tell him.” She smiled conspiratorially, but there was something forced about her smile.
I remembered VJ hadn’t been paying attention when we’d made plans to meet. It had been at the end of the day, after we’d visited his father’s studio. VJ had been lost in his own thoughts. It was obvious there was something wrong between he and his father. He seemed to resent it when his father showed off his studio, but VJ was the one who took us there, so he must have been proud of his father in some way. He’d seemed particularly angry when his father flirted with the young film star. I didn’t understand why that upset him. His father showed far more restraint than I was used to seeing from men. Still, I knew what it felt like to be ashamed of a parent and proud of them at the same time.
“Where’s Parvati?” asked Grace.
I hesitated. She didn’t really know Parvati. I’d done most of the talking when we were all together. Parvati’s English was good enough for scrounging a few rupees off foreigners on the street but not really up to serious conversation. Even if she’d had the words, Parvati would never have told them about Suresh.
“Perhaps she forgot.”
Aamaal reached for the small menu that was wedged between the condiments in the center of the table. I snatched it out of her hands and replaced it where it had been. Grace took a sip of her drink. It looked like coffee but it was in a tall plastic glass with ice and a straw.
“Do you want one?” she asked. “My treat.”
Aamaal and I said yes and no at exactly the same time. I repeated no and gave Aamaal a watch out or I’ll hit you look.
“Shami wants that,” said Shami. He pointed to a white frothy drink that was just passing our table in the hand of a chubby boy. But he spoke in Kannada. I was relieved that Grace wouldn’t understand.
“You want a vanilla Frappuccino, Shami?” she asked, to my surprise.
Aamaal and I said yes and no at exactly the same time again. Grace laughed and stood up. I stood too.
“They just had dinner,” I said. “They’ll be sick if you give them anything else.”
“I’ll take that chance,” said Grace, and she walked toward the counter.
I thought about chasing after her. Now that she was gone, the other customers were openly staring at us. I sat down and scolded both children until Grace returned. I was dismayed to see she was carrying two of the white mixtures and a third drink that looked like her own. She set that one in front of me and the white drinks in front of Shami and Aamaal.
I flushed with embarrassment. “I’m not thirsty.”
Grace looked disappointed. “I’ve paid for it, so no point letting it go to waste.”
I stared at the drink that cost many times the price of my mother, or as much as a month of medicine for Shami. Grace was right about one thing; I couldn’t waste it. I took one sip. After the long, hot walk, the drink was like cool rain on a sweltering night. I took another.
Grace
I realized too late that I’d offended Noor by buying her the drink. I wasn’t sure what I should have done. I couldn’t very well have sat there drinking alone, especially with Shami and Aamaal looking on longingly. I tried to come up with something I could say to lighten the mood. I was sorry she hadn’t brought Parvati and wondered if I’d done something to offend her as well. It was bad enough that everyone at school hated me; I wasn’t sure I could bear it if Noor and Parvati didn’t like me either. Maybe I should have brought VJ. Everyone liked him.
It was selfishness that had made me come alone. I needed a friend, a real friend I could talk to. I had to tell someone about the cutting. I wanted to stop but I wasn’t sure I could do it on my own. The desire, ever since Madison had called me a hag, was almost overwhelming. I just couldn’t get the word out of my head, and cutting had helped the last time. Maybe I wouldn’t even have to tell Noor about the cutting. Maybe I could just tell her what Madison had said, and that would be enough to get it out of my system.
I’d tried to talk to VJ about it. He’d said that Madison was just lashing out and it was ridiculous to let it bother me. But VJ had never been anything but beautiful and popular. Madison may have been lashing out, but she’d vo
iced my deepest insecurities. Was I ugly? Was that why no boy had ever shown an interest in me? Her words had festered like an infected cut, far more painful than the ones I’d inflicted on myself. It had taken all my resolve not to add ugly hag to my previous inscriptions, but I wasn’t out of the woods yet. Even as I sat looking at Noor across the table, the desire to cut was a time bomb ticking inside me.
“How is Parvati?” I asked.
“She is well, thank you.”
Perhaps it was just her school-taught English, but the formality of Noor’s reply seemed designed to keep me at a distance. She wasn’t looking at me either, as she fidgeted with her straw. Parvati was definitely an uncomfortable topic of conversation. Maybe she’d told Noor she didn’t like me. Noor had to meet me as part of her deal with Miss Chanda, but Parvati didn’t. I suddenly felt embarrassed to have forced Noor into being my friend.
“How did your first day back at school go?” I asked, hoping she hadn’t also been bullied. It couldn’t have been easy walking into school with all her longtime friends knowing the truth about her for the very first time.
“It went well, thank you.”
Another formal response. I looked around the café, trying to think of something else I could ask.
“Asmi is having rabbit with six babies. Asmi is wanting give me baby,” said Aamaal.
“Really?” I could have hugged her I was so grateful someone wanted to talk to me. “That’s really wonderful.”
Aamaal gave her sister a triumphant look. “Noor say no.”
I grimaced at Noor. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”
“We have no place to keep it.” She hissed something at Aamaal in their language. Aamaal stuck out her lip. Her eyes filled with tears.
This just kept getting worse. How could I have been so stupid as to think Noor might like me when I couldn’t even connect with kids from my own culture?
Shami said something to Noor in their language. Whatever it was, it didn’t help. She responded, clearly annoyed at him as well.
“What did he say?” I asked, not really expecting she would tell me.
“He also wants a rabbit.”
I wished I hadn’t asked.
“I got called to the principal’s office yesterday,” I blurted, though the hope that I could confide everything was dying fast. “They think they figured out who pretended to be a boy and sent my naked picture all over the school, but they’ve got the wrong girl. Madison, the girl they’ve accused, didn’t do it. It was her best friend texting me. And now the friend is making a play for Madison’s boyfriend.”
Noor cocked her head. I wasn’t sure if she’d understood. Her English was really good but I’d been speaking quickly. I gave her a few minutes to respond. I don’t even know why I continued when she didn’t.
“I overheard the two girls talking when I was checking out my Hater Wall. It’s this wall where everyone who hates me writes about how much they hate me. I think these girls are the ones who started it.”
I paused. I couldn’t believe I’d told her all that. What possible interest could she have in my pathetic little problems?
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t have anyone to talk to.” I blinked back tears and hung my head. It was mortifying.
Suddenly a tiny pair of feet were next to mine. I looked up and was eye level with Shami’s unwavering gaze. He clambered into my lap and rested his head on my chest. I glanced at Noor. She smiled sympathetically, which only made me want to cry more. As usual, I’d messed everything up. I was supposed to be the one helping her, not the other way around. I put my arms around Shami.
“Can I ask you a question?” I asked.
Noor immediately looked wary. “What?”
“Did I do something to upset Parvati?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Why do you ask?”
“I expected her to be with you. Why didn’t she come?”
Noor took a napkin out of the holder in the center of the table and leaned over to wipe Shami’s face. She took away the straw he was blowing through. Spitting on the napkin, she used it to wipe his sticky hands as well. She kept up a running commentary to him the entire time. Even without the translation I knew she was telling him off, but her voice was gentle, and he watched her as though she was the center of his universe. When she finished he slid off me, crawled onto her lap, put his thumb in his mouth and closed his eyes. I could still feel the warmth of him on my empty lap and couldn’t help but feel envious. There wasn’t a person in the world who would choose me first if they had other choices. I wasn’t being self-pitying, it was simply the truth. Even my parents would have chosen my charming, successful brother if they’d had to choose just one of us. Heck, I’d have chosen him over me. I didn’t blame them.
“It’s not you,” she said, returning to our conversation. “Parvati has a problem so she could not come today.”
“Is it something I can help with?”
“It is a big problem. I am telling Parvati to speak to Chanda-Teacher but she will not. She also will not like it if I tell you.”
I tried not to feel hurt. “Is it a secret?”
“Yes, it is her secret. If she wants you to know, she must tell you. I think perhaps you also keep secrets for your friends.”
“I would, if I had any friends.”
“I think you have a secret with Vijender Patel?”
“He’s more of an acquaintance. He’s nice, but we’re not that close.” I suddenly realized what she was getting at. Of course I was keeping a very big secret for VJ.
“Would you tell me what really happened when you returned to school?” I asked. “I’ve been worrying about you.”
“Everyone was kind to me. My best friend Gajra told everyone we must treat each other the same. It does not matter who your parents are, or what caste you’re from.”
“Can I ask you something else?”
“You may ask. I may not answer.”
I scanned the café and noticed several people watching us. It confirmed the suspicion that had been growing in me. “Why did you choose this café? It’s a long way from where you live and it doesn’t seem like … your kind of place.”
Noor gave me an appraising look. She also glanced at the nearby tables. You could almost see the other patrons leaning in, trying to eavesdrop. We were the definition of colliding worlds: not east and west, but rich and poor. This café was a bastion of the rich. The people in here may have shared nationhood with Noor, but they were my people.
Noor stood up, shifting Shami onto her hip. “Do you want to see my home?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” I jumped to my feet. “Time to go home, sweetie.” I extended my hand to Aamaal, who took it as though holding my hand was the most natural thing in the world.
When we got out on the street my first impulse was to flag a taxi. I stopped myself just in time. Noor was showing me her world, so we’d do it her way.
Twenty minutes later I was seriously regretting my decision. Not taking a cab in brutal heat, when you have more than enough cash in your pocket, is just stupid. It had to be worse for Noor. She hadn’t put Shami down once. Nor had she shown any of the annoyance I’d felt on the multiple occasions we’d had to walk in the street because everything from livestock to makeshift stalls had taken over the sidewalk. Several times I’d had to stop walking and jump out of the way to avoid becoming roadkill.
“Are we almost there?” I asked for the third time.
“We are close,” said Noor, as she had the previous two times.
Finally we turned into a quieter lane, though that was mainly because it was so congested with people and animals that the cars could only inch along. I walked carefully, watching the ground, but had to look up occasionally to avoid collisions. There was filth everywhere. Even the walls of the crumbling cement buildings were cloaked in a layer of grime. I knew, from my previous visit, that we’d entered one of the narrow lanes of Kamathipura, though being later in the evening it was busier and some
how different from before.
Though it was teeming with people, women were scarce. A few burqa-clad women fluttered quickly from stall to stall making their purchases before racing off. In contrast, the other women, in neon-bright saris, with fake jewels sparkling in their noses and ears, lounged in doorways or strolled slowly up and down the lane shouting out to passing men.
Many women greeted Noor, and she paused each time to exchange a few words. Her whole demeanor changed as she wove her way down the lane. Gone was the girl who’d perched uncomfortably on the edge of her seat in the coffee shop. Noor was at ease here. It was home.
At first I wasn’t concerned when a boy, perhaps eleven or twelve, popped out from between two parked stalls and grabbed Noor’s arm. She spoke to him as if she knew him, but her tone wasn’t the same as the one she’d used with the women. She wasn’t happy to see him. Had Shami not been asleep in her arms I felt certain she would have shoved the boy away.
“Is everything all right?” I asked.
The boy smirked at me. “My name Adit,” he said in a heavy accent. “What is your name?”
I ignored him. “Is he bothering you, Noor?”
Noor looked pointedly at the boy’s hand, still gripping the arm that was cradling Shami. He let go.
“Adit is a friend from when he was a child.” It wasn’t clear if she was telling me or reminding him.
“I am not child,” said Adit.
“You think because you are a bully you are a man?” asked Noor in English, perhaps to put him at a disadvantage.
“I am telling Pran-ji where is Lali go.”
“You tell Pran and you will be sorry, Adit.” Noor spoke calmly and added a few words in Hindi; threats, I suspected.
Adit puffed out his chest but his eye twitched. I wasn’t sure if it was nerves or a permanent condition. He spoke back to her in Hindi, throwing in a few English swearwords having to do with the female anatomy. She waited until he ran out of steam, replied curtly in Hindi and turned to me.
“My house is a little more down the street. We cannot go inside at this time but I will show you.” She continued walking and I followed.
Fifteen Lanes Page 17