Child of Spring (5 page)

I
was so weary from helping out at the birthday party that I didn’t really want to sit under the tamarind tree with Lali. But when I saw the white flower tucked behind my best friend’s ear, I changed my mind.

“Oo Maa!
A motia today! And who is the secret admirer?” I asked, fingering the petals. “Are you telling or not?”

“Go! Go!” Lali flicked my hand away in mock anger.

I bumped her shoulder with mine. It was time for a little fun. “Hmm,” I said. “I am guessing the giver of this flower sits on tree branches to toss jamun berries at passersby.”

Lali slapped my back. “Paki?
Tcha!
Are you mad?”

“Well then, let me see … the secret admirer likes to chuck marbles in drain holes?”

“Bah!” Lali cried. “If you are talking about Bala you can forget it. Really, Basanta! How can you say such silly things?”

I decided to ease up a little. “You can tell me, Lali. I’m your best friend.”

Lali jiggled her foot and looked away.

“You may not want to tell me, but I know,” I said. “The Milk Boy gave it,
nai?
”

“Hanh!”
Lali tittered shyly behind her hand. “He came to the hut early yesterday.”

“He likes you, Lali,” I squealed. “A yellow flower and a white flower. This definitely proves it!”

I’d had a suspicion when I first caught Ganga looking at Lali, but I couldn’t be sure. Now the flowers were proof, and Lali could no longer brush me off.

“What did the silly boy say?” I asked. “Was it something that sounded like this? ‘O queen of my heart, c-c-come and ride on my b-b-buffalo’s b-b-back.’”

“Go, go! It’s not nice to make fun!” Lali cried sternly. “He can’t help the way he talks.”

“I’m just saying!” I giggled. “After all, the poor boy does stutter. And he’s cross-eyed. When he looks at the rooster, you think he’s staring at the crow!”

“He can’t help that either, just like I can’t help this.” Lali thrust her bad foot out from under her skirt.

I hugged her as an apology and changed the subject. “I’m guessing we’ll be planning a real wedding soon,
hanh
?” I asked, trying to coax a smile.

Lali poked me in the shoulder. “Go! Go!” she scolded in mock anger and then hid her face in her hands. “We’ll have to wait until I am fifteen or sixteen, I think.”

Lali and Ganga. Ganga and Lali. They went together
just fine—dear, sweet Lali and kind, gentle Ganga.

“What about Rukmani and Ramu?” Lali asked. “Do you think they will marry one day?”

I shrugged. Good old Ramu needed our help; we could surely find someone better than Rukmani, someone who was just as nice as he was. Lali and I talked about it, pairing him up with this one and that one, but nobody measured up.

“I am thinking Ramu and Basanta! Now that has a nice ring to it,
nai
?” Lali giggled.

“Don’t be an idiot!” I scoffed. “His legs are spindly and he is much too old for me!”

Lali thought for a moment and then she snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it!” she cried. “Basanta and Bala! What do you say to that?”

“
Pshaw
!” I spat. “We’re talking about Ramu, not me. Lali, now I know you are utterly and completely mad!”

Kalu trotted up to our hut promptly at sundown for his dinner bones. He crunched them for a while, then smacked his lips. He found his favorite resting place, circled three times, and sank to the ground, his nose on his paws.

I patted him on his head and tickled him behind his ears. He thumped his tail happily. “Hey, boy! Make sure you are alert tonight, hear?”

Kalu often joined us at night because he knew we’d give him a little something to eat. My parents were grateful for his presence. Amma said his bark was as good as a sturdy padlock on the door. Who would dare approach the hut with the dear dog standing guard?

The night was balmy and perfect for sleeping outdoors, so Bapu moved his
charpai
outside and Amma rolled out our sleeping mats on the ground next to him. The earth was hard under my back, but being able to look at the stars made up for the discomfort.

I searched for old Nahni in the night sky. She was up there, somewhere, Amma said, peeking from behind a star. Did my grandmother already know about the ring? Did she know her words had come to pass? Would she be happy for me, or would she moan
hai, hai
because I kept it instead of returning it to Little Bibi?

The day’s events came back to me in a big rush. My young mistress had tossed aside the birthday garland, and no one had expressed one word of gratitude for the countless glasses of cold drinks I had fetched during the party. I sighed, turned on my side, and closed my eyes.

I fell asleep to the sound of the crickets and the toads talking to one another near the water pump. I slept soundly until bright and early the next morning, when I was awakened by the sound of Dinoo Kaka cawing.

I got up and headed toward the tamarind tree.

As I passed the water pump, Rukmani called, “
Oi,
Basanta!”

I slowed down.

“Off to carry on crazy conversations with the crow,
hanh
?”

I didn’t want to be waylaid by that pesky girl. I had better things to do with my time than listen to her insults. Dinoo Kaka was hungry and I needed to get back to help Amma with breakfast.

“Some people might think that’s a teensy bit loony, if you ask me!” she called after me.

“I don’t know what you’re babbling about!” I snapped. “Leave me alone!”

“On the other hand, some might think talking to crows is fine business. Do you, by chance, discuss the price of rice or the state of the nation with him?” Rukmani laughed.

“Shut up!” I broke into a run, my skirt flapping about my ankles.

“Leaving so soon?” Rukmani asked. “Come back and I’ll show you something that’ll make your eyes pop open wider than a gate. The stupid crow won’t mind if you are a little late, I promise!”

I stopped. Rukmani was like a
Divali
firecracker—fiery and dangerous, but alluring and hard to ignore. “Okay. Show me.”

“Not so fast.” Rukmani spat out guava seeds with a loud
thoo.
“First you must agree to do something for me.”

“What?”

“You must take this
laddu
to the Milk Boy.”

“You’re sending a
laddu
to the Milk Man’s cross-eyed son? What about Ramu?”

I couldn’t believe my ears! This … this chicken thief who stole chickens from her
memsaab’s
coop and sold the eggs back to her! Why was she giving candy to Ganga?

“I don’t care what the monkey-faced man Ramu says. It’s my
laddu
and I can do what I want with it!”

“But—”

“But,
wut,
nothing!” Rukmani snarled. “Do you want to see what I have to show or not?”

Of course I wanted to see! Rukmani always had interesting things to show, especially the ones she pinched from her
memsaab.
And yes, I’d take the sweet sticky ball over to Ganga, even though Ramu’s feelings might be hurt if he knew. And so would Lali’s.

“Promise me first you’ll go to the Milk Boy as fast as you can. Make a god promise and swear on your head!”

“Yes, yes,” I said. “God promise and swear on my head and all that! Show me!”

Rukmani put the
laddu
in my palm, then pulled a rectangular slab wrapped in shiny paper out of her
choli.
“Look,” she said proudly. “See this?”

“What is it?”

“Don’t you know anything? It is a
chakalet
.”

“Chakalet?”

“My
memsaab
eats it all the time. Do you want to see more?” Rukmani teased away the shiny paper, revealing a deep brown square. She nibbled on the edge and smacked her lips noisily. Her teeth and tongue were darker now.

“Is the
chakalet
good?” It smelled warm, sweet, and sticky. My mouth watered.

“Mmm-mmm. So tasty!”

The
chakalet
did appear to be very delicious.

Rukmani crimped the foil and tucked the
chakalet
back in her
choli.
“There’s more.”

More? What else had she stolen?

“And this is
leepshteek,
see? It makes your lips a pretty color.” She twisted a glossy pink column up from a golden tube, then smeared it across her lips, turning them the same color.

Rukmani returned the tube to the secret part of her blouse with a smirk. She hadn’t offered me a small bite of
chakalet
or a tiny smear of
leepshteek.
I couldn’t believe I had been duped into a god promise that would make me a traitor to two dear people.

“You can keep those things, I don’t care!” I growled. “What I have is one hundred times better!”

“You don’t say! And just what would that be?”

“What I have is fit for a princess, that’s what it is!” And then I realized I was making a big, big mistake. But it was already too late.

Rukmani’s eyes widened. I could tell her interest was piqued. “Show it to me at once!” she demanded.

“I will not!” I was afraid of where this would lead.

“Liar! You’ve got nothing to show!”

“Maybe I do, or maybe I don’t,” I said, trying to climb
out of the big hole I had dug myself into. “Actually, there’s nothing to show. I was only lying.”

“Aiyyo!”
she said petulantly. “Is it a bracelet or a ring? Tell me! Did your mother get it for your trousseau or what?”

“My mother and father are getting me lots of lovely things!” I said.

“Oh? And where does your mother put away those pretty things, hmm?”

“Wouldn’t you just love to know!” I spun on my heel.

“Basanta!” Rukmani shouted. “You will take the
laddu
to the Milk Boy, or else!”

“Hanh, hanh!”
I yelled back. “I will because I said I would, but not at this very minute, so stop pestering me!”

A
mma spooned our dinner onto rimmed platters. We ate by lantern light, drawing rice and watery lentils into balls just big enough to make our cheeks bulge, and crunching onion and green chili for extra flavor. Inside the hut, the dying embers of the fire cast eerie shadows on the walls.

The sun descended behind the mango tree and twilight deepened. People emerged from darkened huts. One by one, cots creaked and mats filled. Everywhere voices hushed and movement slowed like a fan winding down.

Bapu carried his
charpai
outdoors and Amma pushed the Big Box into a darkened corner of our hut. With a snap of my wrist, I rolled out my sleeping mat near Bapu’s cot and stretched out on it. The earth was hot under my back, even though Bapu had sprinkled water from a goatskin bag to try to cool it off. Just when the sky darkened, the little mutt Kalu joined us. A few feet away, Lali lay beside Vimla Mausi and the little ones. I opened my mouth to tell Lali about Rukmani and the
laddu,
but then I closed it
quickly. Telling her could wait. She’d be too worked up to sleep if I told her now.

Farther away, Paki, Raju, and Pentamma Mausi lay still. The cobbler unwound his turban for the night and Ramu’s
beedi
cigarette glowed like a firefly in the dark.

Everyone was out under the stars except Rukmani. Judging by the hazy light flickering in the cobbler’s hut, she was finishing up her last chores, dousing the flames and sweeping the ash in her hearth.

I listened to the sounds of the night for a while. I turned over. “
Oi,
Lali,” I whispered as loudly as I dared. “Are you awake?”

“Mmm … not quite.” Lali’s sleep-rimmed voice drifted over the prone figures between us.

“Rukmani’s not on her sleeping mat yet.”

“One never knows about that one.”

“She stole
leepshteek
and a bit of
chakalet
from her
memsaab,
don’t you know?”

“
Leepshteek
?
Chakalet
?”

“And the nosy thing wanted to know all my secrets!”

“What secrets?”

“Never mind!” I said and quickly changed the subject.

We counted stars until we came to the end of our numbers and then we searched for pictures in the sky. We found many good ones, but the best one was of Kalu.

“There’s his paw and that’s the tail. Do you see? Lali?”

“Yes, I see,” Lali’s words slurred sleepily. “Basanta, what is
leepshteek
and what is
chakalet
?”

“Oh! A
leepshteek
rises out of a little tube and makes a girl’s lips pink and a
chakalet …
” I tried to explain about the
chakalet
the best I could. “Do you understand, Lali? Lali?”

But I got no reply. Lali was fast asleep.

Beside me, Amma wiggled into a better position and Durga lay sprawled and still. Bapu’s breathing deepened. From farther away, the old cobbler’s snores punctured the still night.

Bhaun! Bhaun! Bhaun!
Sometime in the night Kalu barked and barked and woke me up.

Amma’s mat was empty and so was Bapu’s cot. Something was amiss. Though it was dark, I could glimpse a crowd milling around our hut, humming like a hive of wasps.

I jumped up from my mat and elbowed my way through the people, listening to broken bits of conversations: “
Daiyya!
Someone tried to steal into the hut!” “Anything stolen?”
“Aiyyo!”

My heart skipped a beat as I pushed past concerned neighbors. “Amma?” I called.

My mother sat on her haunches, rummaging in the Big Box. The dim light of the lantern revealed lines on her forehead as deep as the ruts under the wheel of a bullock cart. All the best things she owned were stored in there—and along with them, unbeknownst to her, was the ring. I
peered over her shoulder, my mouth as dry as dust.

“It’s all here,” she announced. Red sari, white muslin shirt, four bangles, two anklets, and the small pile of rupees saved for my trousseau.

I let out a breath. If those things hadn’t been taken, it meant the ring was probably safe too.

My parents checked our hut for other things and found that they too were untouched. The bicycle stood in the corner and the umbrella hung safely from its nail. The tiffin box was also in its place.

Amma counted the stainless platters and the little
katori
bowls and all the brass pots. She checked the rice and flour levels in the earthen pot and she peered into the ghee tin. She even gauged the size of the kindling pile. The picture of the blue-black god still sat in its niche and the combs and bottle of hair oil were in their usual places.

“I’ll look in the Big Box again,” I volunteered, but my mother pushed me away.

“
Na.
No need of that.” She ducked out the doorway, shoving me out ahead of her. Bapu nodded his head in answer to the silent, inquiring looks at the doorway: Yes, everything was fine. No, nothing was taken, thank the gods!

I heard a chuckle or two. After that, everyone shuffled back to bed.

I sank down beside Amma. “What time is it?” I asked.

“I heard the clock in the tower chime twice not so long ago,” she said.

Amma’s worst fears had almost come to pass. “How will a curtain keep a thief away?” she had always worried. Because there were no doors and locks for huts made from mud and straw, she had been extra secretive about our Big Box. “No outsider need poke a nose in it,” she warned us with a finger to her lips.

But someone
had
tried to poke a nose in it, in the middle of the night, and if not for good old Kalu, the ring would surely have been stolen.

“Who do you think it was?” I asked.

“It’s difficult to say.” Bapu sank back onto his cot. “He was hidden under a shawl.”

My head was abuzz.
Who could the thief be?
I ran down a list of possible suspects in my head. Paki and Raju had slept through the entire incident. Lali had slept deeply as well. The Milk Boy was too timid to sneak into someone’s hut. And besides, his father was rich and there was no need for him to steal. Dear Ramu was too nice to do something so horrible. The peanut man was wily but he was not agile enough. Bala … well, he lived too far away to come to our
busti
in the middle of the night.

That left only one person unaccounted for: Rukmani! Yes, Rukmani was the number one suspect. Had she not wiggled and squirmed, prying for information about my ring? Had she not been missing from her sleeping mat? And wasn’t she the only one
not
at the hut clucking her tongue and asking questions?

My mind was in such frenzy that I couldn’t go back
to sleep. My palms were sweaty, my mouth dry. Had the thief taken the ring? It
had
to be there. It just had to! Why, I barely got to wear it! I hardly got to feel it on my finger. I hadn’t had a chance to show it to Lali and watch her eyes grow to the size of
thali
plates.

I tossed and turned on my mat like a leaf on a windy night. New feelings and doubts tumbled about in my head.
If
I had put Little Bibi’s ring back on her dressing table, as Amma would have expected me to, I’d be sleeping soundly under a starry sky instead of being sick with worry.
If
only I had not bragged to Rukmani.
If, if …

I couldn’t stand it anymore. I tried to get up without disturbing my mother but she stirred. “What are you doing?” she mumbled.

“I’ll be back in a flash, Amma.”

“Answer me! Where are you going in the middle of the night?”

“I’m only going to Kalu to pet him and tell him he’s a good dog for scaring away the thief.”

“Silly child.” Amma rolled over. “Tell him I said thank you!”

I tiptoed past Kalu, who was breathing heavily. I groped my way into our hut and knelt by the Big Box, I slowly opened the lid, lifted the corner of the cloth, and eased up the little piece of wood. I probed the space underneath with my finger.

Nothing! The hollow was empty! The ring was gone!