The Song of Kahunsha

by Anosh Irani

  “No,” says the girl. “An old woman makes them. I sell these for her. She gives me half.”

  “So you don’t beg?”

  “No. I work.”

  “Sumdi, why don’t you also work?” he asks.

  “I told you. I’m not allowed by Anand Bhai. You have to be allowed. And I do have a job. I am his eyes.”

  Amma enters the kholi, sits down, and lays the baby on the ground.

  “What’s in the bag?” asks Sumdi.

  “Vada-pav,” says Guddi.

  “Aah!”

  “A woman gave us some. I already ate.”

  “Is there enough for all?”

  “One each. Amma has not eaten. I think the baby might die soon.”

  The matter-of-fact manner in which Guddi says this shocks Chamdi. He can feel his desire to eat leaving him.

  “Why do you say that?” asks Sumdi.

  “The lips have become all white like a ghost. Even Amma’s lips.”

  “Let’s eat,” says Sumdi.

  Chamdi picks up his white vest and puts it back on. Sumdi quietly takes the food from Guddi’s hands and inspects it. Then he turns to look at Amma, who stares back at him as though Sumdi is not her son but a stone statue. Guddi lies down on the hot footpath. She closes her eyes and squints as the sun hits her face.

  Sumdi offers Chamdi some food. Chamdi has lost his appetite now, but he takes the vada-pav anyway. The potato, placed between a single slab of bread, is still warm. There is green chutney as well and a generous dose of spicy red masala.

  Sumdi quickly puts the whole vada-pav in his mouth, swallows it as fast as possible. Then he removes another vada-pav from the brown paper bag and crumples the bag and throws it away. He puts the vada-pav to Amma’s lips, but Amma does not open her mouth. Instead, she slowly raises both her hands to accept the food like an offering. Sumdi places the vada-pav in her palms. Amma thrusts the vada-pav into the ground, and rubs it in dirt before raising it to her mouth.

  SEVEN.

  As night encroaches over the tree, Sumdi counts the earnings of the day. Chamdi and he begged all evening. Sumdi now has twenty-five rupees of his own. Chamdi has only seven. Still, they cannot buy anything with the money. Anand Bhai must be given the entire amount. He will take his share and hand over whatever money remains. More importantly, Chamdi must be introduced to Anand Bhai, for if Anand Bhai finds out that someone new is begging in his area without permission, he might cut off a thumb or toe.

  Chamdi watches Sumdi walk over to the burnt building to relieve himself. Although Chamdi is now alone with Guddi, Guddi does not even look his way. He wants to ask her where Amma is, but decides against it. He thinks about what he would do if Amma were his mother. He would never let go of her, no matter if she were mad.

  He sniffs the white cloth that is around his neck. It smells more of himself than of his father. He cannot understand how this small piece of fabric once held his entire body.

  “Stop playing with your scarf,” says Guddi. “Why do you wear that stupid scarf around your neck in this heat?” She holds a tin can in her hand, looks into it—it probably contains a little money. “The puja is tomorrow,” she says, looking Chamdi’s way at last.

  “Tomorrow?”

  “So don’t eat anything until then.”

  “Why not?”

  “Don’t put on any weight. You need to be thin enough to slip through the bars.”

  “I’m not going to steal. I did not say yes to robbing the temple.”

  “Then why are you still here? Get out.”

  Chamdi is struck by Guddi’s harsh words. He hates that she takes for granted that he will steal. But then why is he still with Sumdi and Guddi? He should leave. His real job is to find his father. He notices that the cloth around his neck is damp with sweat. If only a gust of wind would whisk that cloth off his neck and take it far into the sky. Over chimneys and tall buildings it would float, and he would make good use of his fast feet by following the cloth. When it would land and touch his father’s feet, Chamdi would do the same. But instead of a strong wind, he gets Guddi’s words: “I saw your ribs this afternoon. They might get you stuck between the bars. Learn to pull them in.”

  “I don’t want to,” he answers.

  “Do as I say and you’ll be happy,” she orders. “Suck your stomach in. Pull your chest in and hold your breath for as long as you can. Practise from this moment on until the time you come out of that temple with the money.”

  Chamdi looks at her: a little girl in a brown dress that is too large for her, orange bangles on her wrists, dark circles under her brown eyes. He notes the way her sunburnt hair curls, covers her right eye, and how, even though it is night, she stands apart from the rest of the scene. It is only natural, he says to himself, that she stands apart because she is surrounded by a burnt building and small, dimly lit shops. But even if she were to stand in the middle of a forest, she would still stand apart, just like a ferocious baby tigress would in the middle of wind and grass and swaying trees.

  “What are you staring at?” she asks.

  “I … nothing. I was listening to you.”

  “Even after I stopped talking?”

  Just in time, Sumdi appears. His eyebrows are wet. Chamdi thinks, approvingly, that he must have just washed his face. Perhaps Sumdi uses the same water tap that Chamdi does.

  “Are we ready?” Sumdi asks.

  “For what?” asks Chamdi.

  “Our visit to Anand Bhai.”

  “Our visit?”

  “You’re the newcomer. You must meet him. If you don’t, parts of your body will mysteriously start disappearing.”

  “As it is he has so little,” murmurs Guddi.

  “Ah, so the two of you have become friends,” says Sumdi. “Guddi, do you know that he can read and write?”

  Guddi’s eyes widen, but she says nothing. She hides the tin can she has been holding in a hole in the ground and places a thick slab of stone over it. “Let’s go,” she says.

  “She’s also coming?” whispers Chamdi to Sumdi. “Isn’t it dangerous?”

  “What are you whispering?” Guddi asks.

  “He’s saying what an angel you are,” says Sumdi.

  “Especially when she speaks,” says Chamdi, loud enough for Guddi to hear.

  “If you don’t like the way I speak, cover your ears,” she says. “Or better still, ask Anand Bhai to cut them off.”

  “She doesn’t mean it,” says Sumdi. “She’s in love with you, that’s all. She saw your ribs this afternoon and it has made her so passionate that all these love-words are coming out of her mouth.”

  “Just be quiet,” says Chamdi to Sumdi. “Can you do that for the rest of the walk?”

  “Walk?” says Guddi. “You think we’re going for a walk? Oh we’re going for a walk to Anand Bhai’s adda and on the way we’ll see pretty flowers …”

  “Guddi, he’s new to this,” says Sumdi. “Now let’s be quiet otherwise our little thief will throw a fit and leave for good.”

  Remember, once a thief, always a thief. Chamdi wishes Mrs. Sadiq’s words would not keep ringing in his ears.

  The three of them walk past the burnt building and approach a grey wall. There is a hole in the wall, large enough for them to slip through. On the other side is a school playground, a small one. As they cross the playground, Chamdi sees three holes in the gravel. Perhaps cricket stumps were hammered into the ground here, he thinks. The thought of cricket energizes him. He knows he does not have the height to be a fast bowler, nor the strength to lift a heavy bat and hit the ball out of a stadium, but he can run fast. He will be the world’s best fielder. If the opposing batsman sends the ball crashing towards the boundary line, Chamdi will run and dive, he will do anything necessary to stop the ball. Then he will throw the ball back to the wicket keeper with such force that the whole stadium will erupt. With the applause ringing in his ears, he walks across the school playground.

  The three of them reach another wall
that marks the end of the school property. There is no hole in the wall this time. Instead, there is a small iron gate. A stray dog lies next to the gate, asleep on its side. It breathes heavily. There is saliva around its mouth and fallen leaves on its body. As they approach, the dog opens an eye, then closes it and goes back to sleep. Guddi bends down, rubs the dog’s stomach, and says, “My Moti is not well.” Chamdi watches her move her face closer to its head, as if she is talking to the dog, but he cannot hear what she is saying. She dusts the leaves off the dog’s body, places her palm on the dog’s forehead, and closes her eyes for a few seconds. Then she walks through the gate into a square.

  In the darkness, Chamdi can see a few human shapes illuminated in the windows that overlook the square, sitting in what appear to be one-room homes. The smell of beedis is overpowering, there is the loud cry of an infant, and a goat is tied to a small wooden post in a far corner. The area is unusually calm-it makes him uneasy.

  “Is this it?” asks Chamdi.

  “Yes,” says Sumdi.

  “Where’s Anand Bhai?”

  “Underground,” whispers Guddi. “The ground will open up and he will rise like a bhoot.”

  “Stop fooling. Anand Bhai has sharp ears,” says Sumdi. “Chamdi, do you see that goat there?”

  “Yes,” answers Chamdi.

  “That’s Anand Bhai.”

  Brother and sister try hard to stifle their laughter. An old man totters past, smoking a beedi. He points his fingers towards Sumdi and is about to say something when he is seized by a coughing fit. He holds his chest as he coughs, but makes sure he does not drop the beedi. When he has stopped coughing, he spits in their direction and walks off to where the goat is. He sits on the ground next to the goat.

  “That old man hated my father,” says Sumdi.

  “Why?” asks Chamdi.

  “Because the old man tried to touch our Amma. Amma was pretty at one time, you know.”

  It is hard for Chamdi to think of Amma as pretty. All he can picture is her scalp.

  “My father did not like anyone looking at Amma,” continues Sumdi, “so when this old man tried to touch her, my father beat the hell out of him. I will do that to Anand Bhai someday.”

  “No, you won’t,” says Guddi. “We won’t be in Bombay anymore.”

  “I’ll come back for him,” shoots Sumdi.

  The three of them stand in silence. Chamdi watches the light of the old man’s beedi get sharper and sharper as he sucks on the beedi.

  “Now be careful what you say,” warns Sumdi. “Anand Bhai will show up any moment.”

  “Look, there’s Chottu and Munna,” says Guddi.

  Two boys approach them. They carry something in their hands, but Chamdi cannot make out what it is. These two boys do not look like beggars. They are dressed in blue jeans and shirts and plastic sandals.

  “Who are they?” asks Chamdi. He feels envious when he sees how clean their clothes are.

  “The fat one is Munna. He sells newspapers,” answers Sumdi. “The thin one, Chottu, is blind. He sells movie magazines. But they are both trained thieves. We all collect here at night. This place will fill up in no time.”

  And true to his word, four other boys appear. Chamdi has not seen such deformity before, and to see it all in one place is too much for him. So he tries not to look at the boys who are much younger than him, one of whom is without an arm, one whose nose is eaten up.

  Handsome appears as well. Chamdi tries to get rid of the image of flies filling the deep gash above Handsome’s eye.

  The air is still. The baby’s cries have subsided. From the corner where the goat stands comes a legless boy who wears slippers on his palms and sits on a wooden trolley. A rope is tied to his waist. A girl, maybe a couple of years older than him, tugs the rope, carts him forward. From time to time, the boy places his slipper-palms on the ground and gives himself a hard push.

  “That boy’s name is Jackpot,” whispers Sumdi.

  “Jackpot?” It is the first time Chamdi has heard the word.

  “It means he’s lucky. He’s only four years old so foreigners give him lots of money. He begs at Colaba, a rich area. Anand Bhai is so fond of him that Jackpot is allowed to take a taxi from here to the begging spot and back.”

  Chamdi stares at Jackpot. How did he lose his legs? It is cruel to call someone lucky because they are without legs. Even Handsome has a name that does not match his appearance. No one will be deformed in Kahunsha, Chamdi decides. He clenches his fist tight as though his dream city is in the palm of his hand.

  Soon they are all huddled in a group. Chamdi stares at Chottu, the blind boy with silver eyes. Chottu faces everyone at an angle, with one ear forward. Even Sumdi stands at an angle, as though he is hard of hearing.

  The old man who was sitting near the goat now comes towards them, this time with a cane basket in his hand. He throws the basket onto the ground and walks away. Someone tosses a pair of ladies’ slippers into the basket. They look new. A man’s watch lands in the basket as well. A set of keys. Then men’s underwear, brand new, is added to the pile. “Who got that?” someone asks. And someone answers, “It’s your father’s. After his balls were cut off, he had no use for them.” Everyone laughs. Someone drops a bulging wallet into the basket.

  Chamdi notices the silhouette of a man who stands in the half-light of one of the small rooms. Both his arms are above his head, holding on to the low roof. His body is arched forward. He steps off the landing and strides towards them, buttoning up his white shirt, running his fingers through his hair. As he comes closer, Chamdi notices that the man’s eyes, though a piercing black, seem bloodshot, and have dark circles underneath them.

  Sumdi nudges Chamdi with his elbow. This must be Anand Bhai.

  Anand Bhai peers down into the cane basket and rubs his thick beard. There are beads of perspiration around his neck and under his eyes. He pushes his unruly black hair off his forehead.

  “Who got the wallet?” he asks.

  The blind boy raises his hand.

  “Tell us how, Chottu. Maybe these other pimps can learn,” says Anand Bhai.

  “I found it. That’s all.”

  “Hah?”

  “It was on the ground. I had gone for a shit just behind Khalid’s video library, and I stepped on it. Someone must have dropped it.”

  “And here I thought this was the result of years of training. Blind as a truck driver and you find a wallet.” Anand Bhai laughs, and the others join in. But Chamdi notes that everyone remains alert, as if they might stop at the slightest command to do so.

  “The keys. Who got the keys?” continues Anand Bhai.

  “They are car keys,” says Munna.

  Munna sells newspapers, thinks Chamdi. And the blind one is Chottu. He sells movie magazines. Chamdi suddenly realizes that he is making a mental note of their names and jobs. He stops immediately.

  “These are the keys to a white 118 NE,” says Munna, beaming. “Outside Mohan Sarees. I took it from old Mohan’s pocket after he locked the car and the shop. He parks the car there only because he lives above the shop. I dropped my newspapers right on his feet so he got irritated and started shouting. It was easy because he was angry. Anyway, someone can go pick the car up now. Mohan won’t realize until morning.”

  “Very good, Munna,” says Anand Bhai. “Now, which idiot got men’s underwear?”

  “That was also me,” says Munna. “Because after you steal Mohan’s car, he’ll be poor and naked, and we’ll send him this underwear just for fun.”

  “Next time, don’t risk stealing underwear.”

  “Yes, Anand Bhai.”

  “Ladies’ slippers, hah. I’ll give this to Rani. Munna, go give this to Rani. She’s in my room. Go in quietly because she’s naked on the bed. First see all you want and then knock on the door. Your prize since you got a car for me.”

  “Thank you, Anand Bhai.”

  “Even I want to go,” says Chottu.

  “But you’re blind.”


  “I’ll smell.”

  “Hah! You dog! Maybe next time.”

  “But I got a wallet.”

  “I said next time.”

  “Yes, Anand Bhai.”

  Munna waddles along. Chamdi asks himself if such a clumsy person can be a good thief.

  “Run!” shouts Anand Bhai. “Run before she wears her clothes.” As Munna runs, Anand Bhai rubs his beard: “Running after whores at such a young age. Very sad.”

  Just as Anand Bhai is about to turn his attention back to the rest of the group, something falls out of Munna’s shirt and lands on the gravel. Munna does not look at the ground-he looks straight at Anand Bhai.

  “What’s that?” asks Anand Bhai.

  Munna stands perfectly still. He does not answer. Only the goat’s bleating can be heard. Chamdi tries to discern what has fallen on the ground but cannot tell. The light that spills from Anand Bhai’s room falls a few feet short of it.

  “I asked you what it is,” says Anand Bhai.

  “Nothing, I just …”

  “Bring it here.”

  Munna picks up the object and brings it to Anand Bhai. “It’s a knife,” he says proudly as he hands it to Anand Bhai. His manner of speaking is now extra casual.

  The knife is inside some sort of leather casing. Anand Bhai slides it out. “It’s huge,” he says.

  “Butcher’s knife.”

  “Stolen?”

  “Yes, the butcher went up a building to deliver meat and he left his cycle down and I found this in his bag. It’s really huge, so I took it.”

  “So you took it, hah?”

  “Yes, it’s good to carry a knife.”

  “So when were you going to give it to me?”

  “I was saving it. I wanted to give it to you as a birthday present.”

  Anand Bhai slaps Munna hard across the face. Munna rocks back, but does not fall to the ground. Anand Bhai is calm. He does not look at Munna, but feels the blade of the knife with the tips of his fingers.

  “I’ve told you all many times, no weapons. If any policewala sees, then we have to pay him. Many times I’ve told you pimps.”

  “Who cares about the police?” asks Munna.