Child of Spring (10 page)

I
lifted the curtain in Lali’s doorway. “Lali, come! Let’s go watch Kalu rehearse. Bala says he’s learned all manner of tricks!” I said.

“
Na
. Hari is sick,” she replied. “I must stay by his side.” Lali stroked her little brother’s forehead tenderly.

“Do come, Lali,” I begged. “Nandi will stay with him. Look how soundly he sleeps. We’ll be back well before he wakes up.”

She thought about it for a minute, then agreed. “But I can’t stay for long,” she added.

On our way, we saw Paki in the jamun berry tree. “Come with us,” I called. “We’re going to watch Bala practice for the show.”

“What show?” Paki asked.

“
What show?
Where have you been? Have you been living under a rock lately?”

“Kalu the Wonder Dog Show!” Lali explained. “Bala is going to make a pile of money from it!”

“Yeah, right!” Paki snorted.

“He is! It’s as good as done!” I said.

“You’re an idiot if you think he’s going to pull it off,” Paki said.

“He
is
going to pull it off and that’s because he’s smart—a thousand times smarter than a monkey on a branch of a jamun berry tree!” I shouted. “And what’s more, Bala says you’re a loser and the number one sissy boy this side of
Inglistan.
He’s spreading the word this very moment!”

“What did you say?” Paki asked.

“Basanta, Basanta! What are you talking about,
hanh?
” Lali whispered.

“You heard me,” I told Paki. “He says you are such a sissy chicken, you’d never climb up to the highest branch of the jamun berry tree in a million years!”

“Oh ho! He dares to say that?”

“Uh-huh. Those are his exact words.”

“You’re sweet on him, aren’t you?” Paki asked. “That’s it! Basanta the she-donkey is in love with Bala the he-donkey!”

“Shut up! Shut up!” I yelled.

“Are you coming or not?” Lali asked Paki.

“Not!” he shouted.

“Good!” I snapped. “It will be hard but we’ll do our best not to cry!”

“Get out of here!” Paki yelled. “And tell your stupid boyfriend his stupid show is going to be a great big flop, flop, flop! You can tell him that came straight from the horse’s mouth.”

“Straight from a donkey’s mouth,” Lali said, and we left him in the jamun berry tree.

“Jump through the hoop,” Bala begged the little dog. Big beads of perspiration rolled down his face and worry lines crisscrossed his forehead. “Jump, Kalu. Jump!” But Kalu only thumped his tail against the ground and yawned.

“
Oi
, Bala!” I hollered. “We hear there’s going to be a dog show soon!”

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” Bala growled.

“Don’t mind us. Continue with your work,” I told him. “We’ll just watch.”

“You’re making Kalu nervous,” Bala said.

“It’s good practice to have an audience,” I replied. “He needs to get used to it.”

“Okay,” Bala muttered. “But behave yourselves. You are warned!”

“We’ll be quiet as mice,” Lali promised.

Bala tried the hoop trick again. “
Aa,
Kalu,” he commanded. “Come now!”

But the dog sank to the ground and lowered his head. Things weren’t going so well for Bala today.

“Wave the bone, wave the bone!” I screeched so loudly that Kalu jumped up and scampered away, tail between his legs.

“Come back!” called Bala.

“Go back, go back!” cried Lali.

“The other way! That way!” I yelled.

With so much shouting going on, poor Kalu got all confused and darted about like a crazed mynah bird.

“The bone! The bone!” I hissed at Bala.

He ran into his shack and returned with a bone. “Come, Kalu!” he pleaded. Just as I knew it would, the bone got Kalu’s attention.

“Now lower the hoop!” I shouted. “Lower it!”

Bala lowered the hoop a smidgen, took a deep breath, and waved the bone.

“Go for the bone, Kalu!” I called.

And this time, Kalu obeyed. He bounded forward and shot through the hoop like an arrow, clear to the other side.

“
Wah! Wah!
Bravo!” we cheered. “
Shabaash!
Well done! Long live Kalu! Long live Kalu!”

“That was brilliant, waving the bone and holding the hoop lower,
nai?
” I said to Bala.

“Yeah, I’m good!” He held his head high and puffed out his chest. “Just watch. I’ll train my prince to turn around and jump right back!”

After they finished their practice, we ironed out the details, big and small, for the Wonder Dog Show. It were presented two days before
Divali,
when people would be caught up with the spirit of giving and wouldn’t mind tossing a penny or two in the hat. We’d hang banners on Lalla-ji’s storefront and on light posts. We’d get a fresh
supply of bones from the butcher. I offered to bring a motia garland for Kalu and a hat too. How cute would that be?

People would come from near and far. After all, everyone loved a little bit of
shor
and
tamasha
—hullabaloo and spectacle. Didn’t people always stop to watch the cobra fan its head? Didn’t they always roar when a wicket got felled by the ball? It promised to be a number one, top-notch show, and the coins would make Bala a very rich boy!

“We should charge a fat commission,” Lali said on our way back to our
busti.

“Why, Lali!” I said. “You’re turning into quite the businesswoman, don’t you know!”

“I mean it. He’s going to be raking in all that money with our help. We ought to get a cut of the profits.”

“It never occurred to me to make him pay us,” I said. “He really needs the money.”

“I was just thinking that maybe a little share of the show money would keep the rice pot filled and buy medicine for Hari, that’s all,” Lali said softly.

How had I forgotten that the rice from Lalla-ji might be running low with payday still days away? I looked closely at my friend. Her eyes had lost their laughter and her lower lip trembled slightly. “Lali?”

“It’s just that I have to find a way to get medicine for Hari. When I think about it now, I know it’s mostly my fault he got sick.”

“Don’t be silly! Besides it’s only a little cough,” I said.

“It is my fault, don’t you see?” Lali went on. “I let him
play in the water and I looked the other way when he ate tamarind. Amma told me to keep a good eye on him.”

“You worry too much,” I offered lamely.

“Now the cough is turning into a wheeze and—”

“Go! Go!” I said. “You’re making a mountain out of a molehill!”

“I’m just saying a little money from the dog show profits would help, that’s all,” Lali said.

“Okay. You’re right,” I said. “I’ll talk to Bala first thing tomorrow.”

O
i!”
I hailed Bala on a Saturday morning.

“What? Back so soon?” he asked. It looked like he was teaching Kalu to run in and out of a makeshift obstacle course.

“I have another great idea for the dog show,” I told him.

Bala gave Kalu’s rump a brisk pat and walked over. “This better be good.”

“We could get Dev and Pummi to do somersaults during the interval,” I suggested.

“What?”

“I mean, you do want this to be a top-notch show, right?”

“Yes, but …”

“And as Kalu’s owner, you ought to look good too. I brought you a comb so you could make your hair nice and slick for the big day.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me! Is this some kind of joke?”

“Everything counts, don’t you see?” I said. “I’m going to get Amma to sew a cute little cap for Kalu. Better than a
paper hat. Now what do you think about that idea?”

“Hmm.
That
sounds pretty good.”

“Precisely! And I was thinking I’d talk to Lalla-ji about donating puffed rice so we could sell it during halftime for some extra money.”

Bala’s eyes lit up. “Hey! That’s not bad at all!”

“Do you hear the coins rolling in
… ding, ding, ding
?” I asked. “There are more ways to make the money grow!”

“Such as?”

I had him hook, line, and sinker by now. “Whoa! Not so fast,” I said. “It’s going to cost you. I mean, it’s only fair.”

We worked out all the details together. I asked for a fifty-fifty split, but Bala wouldn’t hear of it. I tried to bargain with him, but he threatened to cut us out entirely if I kept bugging him.

In the end, I settled for 15 percent of the total take.

I was up in the guava tree plucking green fruit when I spied Paki and Raju.

“I’ll teach that rascal!” Paki shook his fist. “I’ll make him pay so dearly, he’ll wish he’d never been born!”

“What will you do, Big Brother?” Raju asked.

I couldn’t hear Paki’s response, but I had a hunch that a wicked plan was being cooked up against Bala, on account of the fib I had made up about him yesterday. When Raju ran off in one direction and Paki took off in another, I
jumped down. That owl Paki was up to something and I was going to find out exactly what.

I followed him as he weaved around the huts and headed toward the field. Halfway across the field, he turned toward the Milk Boy’s house, then skirted it and sped to the back. He was going to the buffalo house! I picked up my skirt and ran faster but he’d already disappeared inside by the time I got there.

I stole close to the entrance and hid behind a nearby wheelbarrow. I strained to hear the mumblings coming from within, but it was no good—I could neither hear nor see. I abandoned my hiding place and darted to the easterly wall. Perhaps there I’d find a better vantage point. I saw a small window halfway up the wall; a wooden ladder lay nearby. With the quietest of grunts I propped the ladder against the wall and climbed up to press my nose to the window. The pane was dirty and the room dimly lit, but I could still see inside.

The Milk Boy was milking a buffalo, the brass pail tucked between his knees.

“Ganga, dear fellow.” Paki slapped his back. “Hard at work just as I suspected. I came to see if you could use a hand.”

The buffalo turned her head to look at him. In the other stalls, the other buffalo scraped at the straw with their hooves and let out mournful bellows from time to time.

“That’s generous of you, Paki, b-b-but I can manage
on my own. My b-b-buffalo get skitterish with strangers near,” Ganga said.

Paki leaned against the mud wall, crossed his legs, and chewed on a stalk of straw. “No worries! I am quiet as a mouse. No … even better! I am practically invisible, my man!”

Ganga’s hands didn’t break rhythm and the milk frothed in his pail.

Paki cleared his throat. “I hear you’ve got yourself another nice stash of firecrackers for
Divali
this year.”

The buffalo stamped her hooves. “Ho … ho,” Ganga murmured as he rubbed her flank to soothe her. “Father was generous,” he said to Paki.

“He bought you … what, some twenty firecrackers or so?” Paki asked.

“It’s a fair assortment,” Ganga replied.

“Hmm. Well, well! Your father is large-hearted,
nai
?”

Ganga nodded. “He’s thinking of giving B-B-Bala prize money for winning the kite b-b-battle.”

Paki stood up straighter. “Say what?

“
Hanh.
He says the b-b-boy has a lot of potential and he’s going to sponsor him. He admires his c-c-competitive spirit.”

“He does now, does he?” Paki snapped. “Well, bless the man!” He kicked up a wad of straw and it landed near the buffalo’s nose. She raised her head and emitted a bellow, which was met with answering calls from the adjacent stalls.

“Ho … ho,” the Milk Boy said, patting the buffalo’s side.

Paki shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “Back to firecrackers. Surely, my friend, you know your firecrackers were the talk of the
busti
last year?
Wah!
What magnificence! What power!”

“Lali told me she enjoyed them.”

“Yes, yes. Not so long ago she said, ‘My Ganga is so clever, he knows to pick the right ones—the ones that make the most noise.’”

Ganga reddened a little. “
Hanh.
The new ones are guaranteed to send the chickens fluttering and the dogs running a mile.”

Paki went on. “She also said, ‘My dear Ganga is so very clever. He keeps his firecrackers hidden from thieves in his father’s steel trunk.’”

“
Na.
The dear girl is wrong.” Ganga chuckled. “I keep them in a b-b-box b-b-behind the b-b-bale of hay.”

At that, Paki bolted out of the buffalo house without so much as a backward glance. He was mumbling something, but I couldn’t quite hear him over the buffalo’s bellow. I thought I heard the word “Kalu,” but I couldn’t be sure.

I stood atop the ladder, trying to puzzle out what had just occurred. Paki had seemed nice enough, offering to help Ganga with the milking, but all that talk about the firecrackers … there had to be something going on with that. I climbed down and headed homeward, hoping my sleuthing hadn’t been a great big waste of time.