Karma (20 page)

And straight into a naked sadhu covered in turmeric paste.

Are we God's dream? he speaks into the sky. His heavenly longing for mortal life?

Or are we are his terrible nightmare?

We are his crime!
I shout at him.

Why do we dream and think we are alive?

Why do we sleep through the days of our lives?

Because we cannot bear the suffering!

Ask what the human body is made of. Bone?

Flesh? No! It is the hardened clay of man's hatred!

We are animals.

Sandeep's answer

I hear him arguing:

We are made of love. Love! Do you hear me, old man! We are made of the love that finds us. The love we make. And even the love we are fated to lose!

The sadhu's response

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

December 9, 1984

The wind

Creeps in from the west like a ghost.

Stirring a curtain of dust broad as the horizon.

It blocks out the sun, its light and heat. Sucks out the air.

I feel its breath whirl all around me.

Finding the corners of the room rustling the white sheet pulling at a corner a shoulder revealed in silent shudder the sleeping hand reaching down tugging for the cotton but instead brushes the skin of the wind.

His name

Crawls up my throat.

Clawing.

Scratching.

Seeking the air.

I swallow hard to clear a path.

Sandeep
, I whisper.

The wind blows his name away.

Sand fills my mouth.

Shhh. You're mine.

Sandeep.

Shhh.

The desert wants to silence me.

Shhh.

Swallow my life.

Sandeep!

A flash of orange pulses on the horizon burning through the curtain of sand.

Sandeep. I'm coming.

To the light.

Remembering

I wake to him leaning over me.

Head propped up on an arm.

Sandeep. You're still here.

Where else would I be?

Gone. I'm trouble.

Everyone says so.

But beautiful trouble.

A bad dream? You were crying out my name.

I was remembering what happened.

I was trying to get to you. Through the storm.

To the light.

You shouldn't have run, Maya.

Into the desert?

Well, you shouldn't have run then either. But I meant from the refugee camp. You've twisted your ankle and it's doubled in size.

And throbbing like a drum.

Let me look at it again.

Ow.

You have a bad habit of running away, you know.

I had my reasons.

I know. Well, I think we should blame the sadhu. I'm sure he stuck his leg out on purpose just to make a point.

Nice try, Sandeep. I practically crippled the man and you're trying to blame him.

Oh, I'm sure he was already crippled.

Now I feel better.

I gave him two rupees.

So little?

We can't afford more.

I'm sorry, Sandeep.

I'm trouble.

It's okay, Maya. I'm exactly
where I want to be.

We shouldn't be alone

Where are you going?

Back to the floor.

Why?

You know why.

The bed is more comfortable.

Maya, the bed is better in every way, but I'm still going to sleep on the floor.

But I want you here. Next to me.

No.

Why not?

We shouldn't be alone in this room, let alone on the bed. It's not right.

Not right? If love isn't right, what is? The world seems more concerned with acts of cruelty than caring about what two teenagers in Delhi do!

So, this is the way of North American girls? You sit on beds together and then you are right away under the sheets?

No, that's not it at all. I look around and see nothing but hatred.

Oh, Maya. Don't think that.

Then show me something different.

I can't.

Why not? I think you've had other girls.

Even if that were true, you are not just another girl, Maya. I am not talking anymore about this.

You can't just not talk about things.

Give me a reason, Sandeep!

Why are you so stubborn?

Why are you?

Oh, fine, Maya! But you're not going to like it.

I've gotten used to not liking much of anything.

Okay. Here it is. I am not going to take advantage of you like my brother did.

What are you talking about?

Why must you do this?

Tell me!

I saw how he touched you whenever he had the chance. I saw the bruiseon his face. Your swollen lips. And then the time you were only wearing a slip!

What? Where, Sandeep?

When?

I don't remember exactly! And what does it matter? What matters is that I saw you
undressed and Akbar holding your sari in his hand!

Oh.

You see? Your face is gloomy and I just feel mad!

Sandeep?

What!

I don't remember that happening.

Convenient.

No, not convenient at all.

What if it's true?

Mute

Sandeep paces.

At the foot of the bed.

Three steps. Turn.

Three steps. Turn.

Three steps. Stop.

He looks at me.

Opens his mouth.

But says nothing.

I hear his chest beating.

The sound of antelope crossing a plain.

The retreat of the broken heart.

He's right.

The sari was off.

But I don't remember.

What came after.

Or before.

The door opens and closes.

A sharp click of the latch.

I have heard this sound before.

Men who walk through doorways don't come back.

Memory

I remember Akbar grabbing me. Holding me. I try to get away but his grip is too strong.

He says I have to do something.

Something for him.

Okay, Maya?
His mouth is next to my ear.

And I understand.

My heart is beating too fast.

Like the wings of a trapped bird.

But I can't refuse.

His voice sings.

And insists.

I can't refuse.

Maya! Don't! No!

I want to move toward this new voice, but I am held back by the hands around my waist. I open my mouth. A word, a name wants to be said, but it's caught in my throat.

Akbar grabs the end of my sari and pulls.

Heart

The heart counts time in empty spaces.

One.

Two.

Eight.

Nine.

Seventeen.

Click.

Okay. I'm back, Maya.

And I'm sorry.

Twenty-one.

I don't know what to say.

Twenty-four.

I'm confused.

Twenty-seven.

No. I do know. I love you.

Thirty-one.

I love you, Maya.

Thirty-two.

And I'm not sure what I saw.

Thirty-six.

Maybe it was all just a bad dream. You and Akbar.

But here's the thing. I am still not getting into that bed with you.

Forty-three.

Because when we find your father, and we will, I want to be able to look him in the eye and know that he knows that I didn't touch you. And believe me, he'll know. I will have your father's respect, Maya.

Fifty-five.

I will have my own.

Fifty-nine.

And I will have yours.

You can't hold your breath forever.

Sometimes you just have to breathe.

Sometimes

You just have to.

Not touch.

Flesh

My skin hurts.

Stretching across the space that grows between our bodies.

We're not meant to be so far apart.

My flesh wants to go with him. Deep into the city. Where he searches alone for my father.

Sandeep thinks Bapu may be at a Sikh temple. Rakab Ganj in Chandni Chowk. Majnu Ka Tila on the banks of the Yamuna. Bangla Sahib.

You won't be welcome in the holy
gurudwaras
, Sandeep.

But Maya, I'm bringing good news. You.

You're bringing tragedy.

Reminding them again of those who haven't been found.

No, I'm bringing hope. Restitution.

They'll see that.

They'll see a Hindu.

Amends

I argued.

He's my father, not yours.

And your ankle is the size of a balloon, Maya.

I can lean on you.

You can barely walk.

We'll go slow.

And what if we have to run? No, Maya. You'll have to stay here.

I didn't ask you come to Delhi with me so I could wait in a hotel room while you play the hero!

I don't want to be a hero, Maya. I want to make amends.

What amends? You didn't
do
anything. And simply being part of a religious group doesn't infer guilt. Isn't that the whole point here?

But who knows what I might have done? If I lived in Delhi, it could have been me wielding a stick. An accident of birthplace and I am caught up in the madness too.

You think the riots were about geography and religion? And not character?

And my character has not been tested! How can I be certain of my own courage and restraint?

Tell me, Sandeep. Is this about your sister? Your parents? Is this the guilt you need to amend for? You didn't make Akbar who he is today!

Sandeep shakes his head.

I don't know if he's agreeing.

Or denying.

Please let me do this, Maya.

Please. Not out of guilt but compassion.

Okay, Sandeep. But know that if you don't return, I have lost everyone to this country.

Happy endings

He pulls me to him. His hand runs up the back of

my head. Then down my back. A thumb slipping

under the sari's edge. He kisses me until my fear

is washed away. But not my sadness.

Do you trust me, Maya?

Yes.

Then believe I'll return.

You do realize that I've heard this before?

There will be a happy ending. You'll see.

There's no such thing, Sandeep.

When something ends, something is always lost.

Maya, I'll be back.

By dawn's light.

Future

He leaves with Bapu's passport.

A last look from the end of the hallway. I memorize both faces.

A black-and-white passport photo. Sandeep's uncertain smile.

How do you keep a man from his destiny?

My mother tried.
I will never enter your temple, Amar. What you call “a doorway through the darkness of ignorance.” So keep your belief but not your community. And I will marry you.

Bapu hasn't set foot in a gurudwara in seventeen years.

I'll wait for you,
I told Sandeep.
But just till morning.

I have my own destiny to contend with. In eighteen hours I plan to limp through the doors of the Canadian consulate.

If Sandeep's not beside me I'll beg to be sent home alone.

The empty prairie.

What remains

I lie on the bed and take shallow breaths.

In.

Out.

Cross my arms next to my flat chest.

In.

Out.

There's so little left of me.

(Is that why Sandeep said no?)

From fingertip to fingertip I can circle any point on my arm.

And my pelvis is like an empty bowl.

The hip bones hard, pushing through cotton like two angry fists.

Would Bapu even recognize me?

I lie on the bed and wait.

Under the weight of the grey air.

Night smothers the city.

Holds its inhabitants down.

Skin to pavement. Asleep. Broken.

I listen for his movements.

Pushing along the Delhi streets. Climbing the holy stairs of the temples.

(I forgot to tell him to cover his head!)

I imagine I've given Sandeep my skin.

Wrapped him in my half-Sikh flesh.

Like an armor that will protect.

And save him.

And then I remember.

What happened.

The sari

Take it off, Maya.

Not for you,
I want to say. But my voice is trapped like a bite of apple in the throat.

Take off your sari. Now, Maya.

He doesn't shout. He isn't angry. But I can feel his heart beating against my back.

Hurry,
he whispers.
Hurry, Maya.

I do what I'm told. Akbar's voice insists. And I know he's right. He holds one end of the silk and I turn, unwinding until the sari falls into his hands.

Listen carefully.
His voice is deep. Calm.

You're to do exactly what I say. I'm going to throw you Maya's sari.

(Throw my sari?)

And you're going to hold on to it tight.

Do you understand?

(No.)

Sandeep! Say yes or no!

Now I understand.

Akbar's not talking to me.

Sandeep is sinking.

In quicksand.

Arms thrashing.

Panicking.