Fifteen Lanes (32 page)

“Noor!” It was Deepa-Auntie, suddenly beside me, also in cuffs. I hugged her, though she couldn’t hug me back.

“It’s my fault,” I said.

“You did well, Noor. Your ma’s right, go find your Shami and Aamaal now.”

The cops hustled her away.

Ma still hadn’t uttered a single word of forgiveness, but I left. My siblings were more important. They were why I’d brought the police. I ran back to the entrance to our house. No more adults were coming out. I hadn’t seen Binti-Ma’am or Pran.

Some children were already in vans, separated from their mothers and aunties. I raced back and forth on shaky legs from one vehicle to another. I couldn’t see Shami or Aamaal anywhere. I returned to our house, where two cops guarded the entrance.

“I need to go inside,” I said. “My brother and sister haven’t come out yet.”

“The house is clear,” said one of the cops. “There are only policemen in there now. Check the vans.”

“I’ve checked them all. Please, let me past.”

“No one’s allowed back in.”

I looked wildly around for someone to help me. Finally, I spotted the cop who’d interviewed me at VJ’s house. I ran to him and explained the situation. I was hysterical. I’m not sure I made much sense, but he followed me back to the entrance and ordered the guards to let me through.

The house felt strangely unfamiliar, though I’d left less than twenty-four hours before. The noises and smells that had filled my childhood were gone. It seemed impossible that my history could be expunged so quickly and completely. I crept down the hallway and peeked around the corner to make sure the coast was clear before rushing for the ladder. I was up it as fast as I’d ever climbed and found my siblings exactly where I knew they’d be, huddled under the bed, their arms wrapped around each other though poor Aamaal had one arm in a cast.

“Come out now.” I knelt on the floor, leaned down and reached for the entwined mass of them. Aamaal shuffled them both out of reach.

“Ma said to stay here,” she said.

“She didn’t mean forever, Aamaal. Just until I came for you.”

“That’s not what she said.”

“I peed,” said Shami in a tiny voice.

“It’s okay, Shami-baby, we’ll get you cleaned up. But you must come out now.”

“Not till Ma comes,” said Aamaal.

“She’s not coming back, Aamaal,” I said, with a mixture of guilt and exasperation.

“Where’s Ma?” asked Shami, his voice trembling. He’d been holding back tears a long time.

I did the only thing I could. I slid under the bed and lay next to them, pulling them into my arms. Shami was sandwiched between us. I rubbed Aamaal’s back. Her body shook as she finally let herself cry. Shami put his thumb in his mouth and burrowed into me. I felt his chest rise and fall against my own. I wished we could have stayed like that forever, but I could hear the officers banging around downstairs, their shouts filling the air. This wasn’t our home anymore. We had to leave.

“Come on,” I said. Wiggling backwards, I dragged them with me, stood up and helped them both to their feet. “It’s time to go.”

We walked cautiously to the ladder, listening for sounds before we wordlessly descended. I took a final look around, knowing I would never see this place again. I waited for the relief to wash over me but all I felt was sad. Whatever else it was, it was my childhood home. I could hear voices from the direction of the lounge—stern, joyless voices. I took each of my siblings by the hand and we walked in the opposite direction, past the washroom, the kitchen, to the small room at the end of the hall.

I had to see it one last time, commit it to memory as one might revisit the scene of a murder. It was the site of so much sadness. Shami and Aamaal didn’t question where we were going. Their steps didn’t falter as we entered the outer room. My brave little siblings stood with me in front of the box.

The noise was nearly imperceptible, yet unmistakable. All
three of us held our breath as we strained to listen. It came again. The wooden crate, little more than a coffin, was not empty.

It didn’t make sense. The door was closed but it wasn’t locked. Why would anyone choose to be inside? The light was off. Even with the morning sun filtering into the outer room, it would be pitch-black in there. Could a rat have got in? It wasn’t impossible. They got in everywhere else.

I let go of my siblings’ hands, hopped up on the stool and opened the door. I jumped back quickly. If it was a rat, it would scurry away. I didn’t want to be in its path.

We waited.

Nothing.

The noise had stopped. Yet I knew there was something in there. The hair rose on the back of my neck. The presence inside the box waited just as we did. My siblings’ hands found their way back into my own.

“Hello,” I said.

Silence.

“Is someone there?”

Suddenly I remembered that I hadn’t seen Pran or Binti-Ma’am outside. Was it possible they were hiding in the box? It made sense. The police wouldn’t think to look there. It was the perfect hiding place. Only someone very familiar with our home would think of it. I was ablaze with outrage that Pran or Binti-Ma’am would be saved from arrest by the very thing they’d used to destroy the souls of others. I let go of my siblings, got back up on the stool, switched on the light and climbed inside.

I wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted me.

Lali-didi sat on the filthy mattress, leaning back against the blood-spattered wall.

“What are you doing in here?” I asked. There was something beyond the fact of finding her in such a strange place that made me uneasy.

“Just resting.”

“In here?” I couldn’t keep the astonishment out of my voice.

She smiled weakly.

“I’ve brought the police, Lali-didi. Everyone has been arrested, but you don’t need to worry. You’re a minor. You’ll get sent to a rescue home.”

“Good for you. I knew you would save us.”

“So you’ll come out now,” I said.

“Not yet.”

“But you’re free, Lali-didi. You don’t ever have to be in a place like this again. You’re free.”

“Not yet.”

I didn’t know what to say. Lali-didi had often been a mystery to me but I was more perplexed than usual. My disquiet grew.

“You’re going to have a wonderful life. Everything’s going to be okay now.”

“Do you know how many times I’ve been raped, Noor?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

“Ha! Neither do I. I can’t count beyond one hundred. It was many hundreds though, I can tell you that.”

“It’s over, Lali-didi.”

“I can still feel their touch on my skin. I can still smell them, even after I bathe, like their stink seeps out of my own pores.”

“You can go to school. You can be happy.” Tears were sliding down my face. Lali-didi’s eyes were dry.

“I am happy, Noor. I’ve waited for this day a long time. You marched in just as I knew you would and closed the doors on
this house of torture. I planned for this from the moment you escaped last night. You came more quickly than I expected. Thank you for that.” Blood dripped out of her nose. She wiped it away but it only seemed to make it bleed faster. “You should go now.”

“Lali-didi, what’s going on? What have you done?”

She held up a can of rat poison that had slipped down on the far side of her.

“No,” I gasped. “Not now, Lali-didi. You’re going to get your freedom.”

“Yes I am, Noor. Yes I am.”

I crawled over and pulled at her arm. “We have to get you out of here. We’ll go to the hospital. There’s still time.”

She wouldn’t budge.

“Good-bye, Noor.” She crumpled before my eyes. For the first time I noticed blood leaking from her ear.

“Lali-didi,” I sobbed. “Please don’t do this.” I pulled at her arms, even as I felt her limbs go limp.

I don’t know when my siblings joined me in the box or how long we sat there. We didn’t hear the heavy footsteps enter the outer room or the voices urging us to come out. I don’t remember leaving Lali-didi, or climbing in a van. I don’t remember the police station or the day and night we spent in detention while our futures were being decided.

Everyone I loved was in prison, everyone but Lali-didi. Only she was free.

What I will remember …

I’m woken by the mattress creaking above me. I slide out of bed, careful not to disturb Aamaal, and stand up. I have to climb up the first rung of the ladder to get my head high enough to see Shami on the top bunk. His eyes are wide open.

“Are you okay, baby?”

“My stomach hurts.”

“Do you need to go to the bathroom?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, let’s give it a try.”

I pull down his cover and step off the ladder to give my seven-year-old brother space to climb down. I put my hands out to catch him in case he stumbles. He’s wobbly but manages to get down without mishap. His body is still adjusting to a new higher-dose medication. We’ve been through it all before, the diarrhea, nausea and fatigue.

I follow him into the bathroom and sit cross-legged on the
floor while he sits on the toilet. There’s no shyness between us. I’ve ministered to his ills since he was a baby. I’ll continue for as long as he’ll let me.

“Do you think Ma is watching us?” asks Shami.

“Well, hopefully not right now.” I smile.

“Maybe she’s already been born again. She could be a baby bunny.”

I chuckle. Shami can think of no better incarnation. He dotes on Aamaal’s rabbits.

“Noor-di?”

“Yes?”

“I haven’t done much good in my life. If I died right now, I wouldn’t come back as a bunny, would I?”

“You’re not going anywhere for a long time,” I say firmly.

“I’d probably come back as a pigeon. No one likes pigeons. There’s too many and they all look the same. I bet a lot of naughty boys come back as pigeons. Noor, if I was a pigeon would you still recognize me?”

“Of course.”

There’s a quiet knock on the door. I stand up and open it.

“Everything all right in here?” Karuna-Auntie pops her head round the door.

“His stomach is giving him trouble again.”

She walks in, leaving the door open, and strokes Shami’s hair. I only hope Varun-Uncle and Nanni are not behind her. It’s the hazard of living with a houseful of doctors; poor Shami has no privacy. If I’d had any idea what we were getting into I might have thought twice about moving in with them. I wouldn’t have refused—they’re our salvation—but I might have thought twice.

Aamaal and I spent six weeks in protective custody after Ma’s arrest. For all that time, we weren’t allowed to see Shami, or anyone else. Shami was put in a home for HIV-infected kids. Luckily, since it was private and not state-run, it had liberal visiting privileges. Grace and VJ visited every day.

We all missed Ma’s funeral, though it was nothing to speak of. She was given a pauper’s cremation when her body was found in an alley barely a month after she got out of jail. She’d spent two nights locked up. The only people who did less time were Pran and Binti-Ma’am, who had mysteriously disappeared not an hour before the raid. Prita-Auntie was sentenced to three years for helping train underage girls. Deepa-Auntie spent several days in jail while it was decided whether she was in the country illegally. When she was finally released, Nishikar-Sir was waiting to install her in another brothel. It might have seemed like good fortune that Ma didn’t meet that fate, but she had nowhere to go. With our home closed and her own health failing she lived on the street.

Some days I think Ma died of a broken heart. With her livelihood and children gone she had no way to survive and nothing left to fight for. Other days I remember the woman who endured endless nights of pain and humiliation to look after me and send me to a fee-paying school. Ma rarely praised me and never once said she loved me. She always insisted my destiny was both bleak and inevitable. Yet she kept my medals hidden in the hem of her skirt and fought anyone who tried to limit my dreams. Perhaps she died because her heart had filled to capacity. She knew the battle was over and she had won.

Karuna-Auntie came back into our lives by accident. She was doing volunteer checkups at the HIV home and discovered
Shami. She recognized him, though he didn’t remember her. I’d dragged him to so many doctors, and it had been over a year since he’d seen her. Only when she reminded him of their shared passion for
manga an’ napple
did he figure it out. It didn’t take long for her to get the details on all of us.

She appeared at our rescue home one afternoon, standing in the doorway of the musty room that doubled as a bedroom and lounge for thirty girls. I knew her immediately, though I didn’t acknowledge her. I waited to see why she had come. The disappointment would have been too much if it had been a random coincidence.

The ache of missing Shami had become unbearable. I was close to the desperation of those girls I’d read about years earlier who’d broken their legs trying to escape their rescue home. Had it not been for Aamaal, I would have tried it. I remembered Karuna-Auntie’s compassion and prayed she was there to help us.

Her eyes lit up the second they fell on me and she walked straight over.