Ticket to India (11 page)

Maya stared at the stark words and oddly thought of Mrs. Hackworth. What would her teacher think if she read this? Would she even get a chance to read this? The reality of what was happening started sinking in and an image of her sister flashed in her mind, accompanied by an acute feeling of loss.

I wish Zara were here—she would know what to do. Even if she didn't, I know she wouldn't go down without a fight. And
Naniamma
 . . . she never lets anything push her down. She survived the train ride to Pakistan . . . survived being an orphan . . . met the man she loved and started a family. And me?

Maya paused.
What about me?
She'd talked her way into coming to India, navigated through Delhi, escaped the thugs in Agra, and hidden in the Taj Mahal.

I am Maya. Maya the mother of Hermes and Buddha. I am Durga, the invincible one—the
power behind the creation, protection, and destruction of the world. I am a pea.

Like an electric current, purpose raced through her as Maya put down the journal to pace the room. She paused at the window, watching the kids finish up for the day, organizing supplies and oiling the machines. Guddi and Jai stood beside the open door, whispering and casting glances toward her room. Anger built up in her chest like a volcano. If it hadn't been for
him
, she wouldn't be here. She glanced away from them, spotting a plume of dust approaching the gates. A jeep pulled in beside Boss's car and out stepped a familiar khaki uniform. A tall man hurried up the steps, cap covering gray hair, pistol strapped to his side. It was a police officer!

15

Bathroom Follies

M
AYA WATCHED THE POLICEMAN
enter the warehouse through the main doors, swinging his baton. As he passed, the kids shrank aside, disappearing into the shadows.

“Help!” shouted Maya, pressing her face against the bars.

Guddi's head popped up from along the path, but before she could say anything, Jai clamped his hand over her mouth and pulled her behind a sack of trash.

“Please help me,” repeated Maya, wondering if he hadn't heard her.

The policeman glanced toward her cell with a frown as he neared.

“I've been kidnapped!” added Maya.

The door of Boss's office burst open and he strode out. “Quiet, girl,” he ordered, giving her an irritated look.

“Please . . . ,” begged Maya. “I need help. . . . That man is holding me for ransom!”

“Wow, you've got a feisty one this time,” said the officer with a chuckle.

Maya's heart sank to her knees as confusion ­muddled her thoughts.
What?

“This one is unique,” said Boss, rubbing his hands together. “She's an American!”

“An
American
?” said the officer with a low whistle. “I don't know about that. . . . It could bring some serious heat on us. Kidnapping foreigners can prove very troublesome.”

Maya stared at the officer, a sick feeling spreading through her stomach. He was one of them!

“I have it under control,” said Boss, hands on his hips. “The silly girl was traveling alone—how stupid is that? I'll call her father tomorrow, once I get a few things sorted out. I need your help, like last time,
since we'll need a bank account where the money will be wired. With your smarts and connections, it'll be a breeze,” he added, buttering him up.

Maya felt like she was going to throw up.

“Once we get the money, we'll drug her like the last kid,” continued Boss. “She won't remember much of anything and we'll dump her at the hospital so her family can pick her up.”

“We're going to have to change hospitals and bribe another hospital director,” grumbled the policeman. “That money-grubbing woman from the last one was complaining that she wanted more for the risk she was taking.”

Drugs?
thought Maya.
What kind of drugs?

“Don't worry,” Boss soothed. “Now, come into my office—I have your cut from last month's operations. Revenue's up twenty-five percent. I'm sure that will ease your wallet, since your daughter is getting ­married in a few months. I hear that grooms' families are getting greedier and greedier about dowry these days.”

“You're right about that.” The officer sighed. “The boy's father has been sniffing around, asking for a car and more cash—can you believe it?”

“What a crook,” said Boss.

“And I've got another daughter to marry off,” complained the officer.

“Well, the money we get from this girl will cover the entire wedding,” said Boss.

“You're right about that,” said the police officer.

“Pinto!” yelled Boss, heading toward his office with a chuckle. “Get us some tea!”

“You've really expanded the business after taking over from your father,” said the officer, looking around the warehouse as he followed.

“We're moving into the big leagues now,” said Boss with a smile.

As the duo entered Boss's office, Maya slithered down the wall and slumped on the floor. She spotted the journal.
Don't give up,
it seemed to say.
Find a way out.
Angrily, she pushed away her empty tin cup, traces of lentils clinging to the rim. Lentils that had gotten her sick. She grimaced, eyeing the bent spoon beside the cup. Then she grabbed it, testing the sharp end. A ray of hope pierced her heart. At the top of her lungs, she yelled to Babu to take her to the bathroom, making sure Boss heard her. He'd make the boys listen to her request. They had to take care of her—she was worth a lot of money to them.

•  •  •

Maya sat back and glanced at her watch. It was nearly three a.m.—another three hours before dawn exposed her plans.
There!
After hours of digging, it finally came loose: a large, heavy chunk of red brick.
It's now or never,
she thought, staring down at the rows of bodies through the bars. Around ten o'clock, the younger ones had set up their beds and fallen into an exhausted sleep. Babu and the older boys had stayed up, drinking soda and playing cards. Finally they'd wandered into their room on the other side of Boss's office and collapsed on low wooden beds.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” she shouted. This was the fifth time that night she had made one of the boys take her, even though she didn't need to go.

A few of the children stirred, but not one answered.

“Hey,” she repeated, clanging the bars with the tin cup. “I have to GO!”

“Shut up!” came Babu's sleepy voice.

“I have to go . . . now.”

“Go ahead,” bellowed Babu.

“I don't think Boss would be happy about that,” shouted Maya.

“Pinto,” growled Babu. “Take her to the latrine.”

“Make Jai, the brilliant mastermind, do it,” came his groggy response.

“Jai!” shouted Babu. “The girl needs to use the latrine.”

Jai shot up from the floor, a ghostly shape shrouded in a tattered quilt. “Yes, Master Babu,” he mumbled, still half-asleep as a metal key flew out the door of the room where the boys were sleeping, and landed at his feet.

“Give her a bucket. She can
tatti
all she wants,” came a muffled snort.

Maya's cheeks reddened as Jai stumbled around the shadowy warehouse, finally appearing with a blue plastic bucket. Maya stood on the other side of the door, trembling, holding the brick in her hand. The lock clicked open and the little boy entered, bucket held out in front of him. Maya raised the brick high, aiming for the back of his head.

Jai entered slowly. “I'm really sorry all this happened to you,” he whispered in a sorrowful voice.

Maya's hand shook. She felt terrible, but she had no choice. She'd expected Pinto to take her, but it was Jai, and she had to take advantage of the opportunity.

“I just wanted to get your money . . . so I could take care of my sister,” he whispered, placing the bucket on the floor. “I didn't know they would kidnap you.”

Maya looked down at his tiny body in the shadowy light.
I can't . . . I can't hurt him.

Jai turned and saw the brick. His eyes widened, then squeezed shut. “Do it,” he whispered. “Do it good so they believe you caught me by surprise.”

Maya slumped against the wall. “I can't,” she muttered, arm falling to her side.

They stared at each other. “I have an idea,” he whispered.

•  •  •

A few minutes later, Maya tiptoed from the room toward Boss's office, backpack slung over her shoulder.

“They're definitely asleep,” whispered Jai, right behind her. He angled his head toward the boys' room, from where a symphony of snores percolated.

She stopped, catching sight of her passport and the money lying on Boss's desk through the window, guarded by bars. “He always locks it when he leaves,” Jai whispered, pushing down on the handle.

A loud creak sounded from the boys' room, and they dove behind a bin of metal parts, waiting for one of the teenagers to come stumbling out. After a few minutes of silence, Jai grabbed her hand and led her toward the row of sleeping kids near the machines. Gently, he woke Guddi. Obediently, she sat up, gingerly disentangling herself from Mini, who'd been clutching her arm. The little girl whimpered, snug
gling deeper into the warmth Guddi had vacated. As she put on her precious jean jacket, which she'd been using as a pillow, Jai looked down at the line of little kids, a deep frown tugging his lips. Maya followed his gaze, and for a moment uncertainty flooded her.

What about the other kids?
She'd only been thinking of herself. Before she could ponder further, Jai grabbed Guddi's hand and hurried past the hill of plastic toward the metal door. It had been left ajar to let in the cool night breeze, the building secured by locked gates and the surrounding fence. Shrugging aside the niggling guilt in her gut, Maya followed them outside. Cautiously, they descended the rickety steps and ran toward the padlocked gates. Maya climbed up the fence like she did her grandfather's peepal tree, finding footholds along rusty joints, stopping on the top when one of the spikes snagged her shirt.

“Help!” whispered Jai from below, where he stood with Guddi on his shoulders.

Maya straddled the fence and leaned down to grab the little girl's hands. As she pulled, Guddi found her footing and scampered up, Jai following behind. Making sure his little sister made it to the top, he slid down the other side to help her down.

“Come,” said Maya, getting ready to go over the top.

Guddi turned, ready to shimmy down, when her jacket caught on a spike, piercing the fabric and barely missing her chin.

“Are you okay?” said Maya, steadying her.

“Oh, no,” hissed Jai, staring toward the warehouse. “Hurry!”

Maya squinted toward the building. A tiny figure came tumbling out the doorway.

“Guddi . . . ,” wailed Mini. “Don't leave me!”

“Guddi, let's go,” croaked Maya.

“I can't,” whimpered the little girl. “I'm stuck.”

“Take it off,” Jai yelled from below.

Maya leaned over and yanked on the thick fabric, but it remained entangled on the spike, tightening further as the little girl squirmed. From the corner of her eye, Maya saw lights flickering through the broken, toothless windows.
The boys—they're awake.

“We have to go—
now
,” whispered Jai hoarsely as Mini reached the gate, sobbing.

Maya desperately tugged the jacket, but it was no use.

“They're coming!” cried Jai, as the metal doors roared open.

16

Friendships Formed

T
HROUGH THE SCRAGGLY FIELDS
they ran, zigzagging around the trees. Veering in the opposite direction of the main road, they stumbled through the shadowy darkness until they came to a small clearing.

Feeling as if her heart would burst from her chest, Maya stopped. She stood panting beside a protective clump of bushes. “Wait. . . . I can't run anymore. . . .”

Jai stood like a robot, stony-faced. “I can't believe we left her . . . ,” he whispered.

“We had to,” said Maya desperately. “If we stayed, they would have caught all of us. . . . What good would that have done?”

Jai turned to her, fists clenched. “She's my sister! I'm supposed to take care of her.”

“We'll find a way to get her, I promise,” said Maya, wincing at yet another oath she didn't know she'd be able to keep.

“You don't understand,” he said. “I've wanted to leave for months. . . . The stuff Boss makes me do, it's getting worse—I can't do it anymore!” Maya stared at him in surprise as he continued, voice choked. “Every week I have had to bring in a certain amount of money—if I don't, I get in trouble. Two months ago, I stole a thousand rupees from an old woman who'd asked me to help her across the street to the hospital. The money was for her granddaughter's medicine. . . . I found out later that the little girl died.”

“But why did you join Boss's gang?” Maya asked, not able to help it.

“When we first arrived in Agra, someone tried to take Guddi from me while we slept on the streets. It was too risky to be on our own. We needed protection and a safe place to stay.”

Maya stared at him, reminded again how hard it was for street kids to survive.

“A few days later, Ladu spotted me stealing bread from a corner shop. He told us about Boss's gang
and asked if we wanted to come check it out.”

“But how did you get to Agra in the first place?” asked Maya.

“My parents left our village last year to find work in the city, leaving Guddi and me with our aunt. In the beginning it was good. They sent money and we were able to go to school, get new clothes, and even have special things to eat, though we missed them like crazy. Then we got a letter. There was a fire at the factory where they worked . . . and they died.”

“I'm so sorry . . . ,” whispered Maya.

“When the money stopped coming, my aunt stopped caring about us. We were two unwelcome kids no one wanted around. So I took Guddi and I left. . . . And now that I've run away, they're going to hurt her.”

“No, no, they won't,” said Maya, awkwardly patting him on the shoulder. “They'll be mad at you, not her.”

Jai became stony-faced again. “The world doesn't care about you when you are poor and weak,” he said. Maya stared at his childish face, his eyes those of an old man who'd seen too much.

“Look,” said Maya. “I swear I'll help any way I can. Once we get to the train station, my sister and mother with help you get Guddi, and the other kids.”

“It's too far away,” said Jai, shaking his head. “We'd need a rickshaw.”

Maya nodded, but there was no transportation to be found on the desolate patch of scrub they found themselves in, nor did they have any money. “Let's keep walking, but out of sight from the road.”

•  •  •

Hidden by a copse of trees, the duo looked out across the parking lot over to a
dhaba
, a truck stop restaurant. The sun had risen above them an hour before, illuminating a line of trucks parked beside the gas pump. Each was laden with something different: bales of hay, electronic parts, squawking chickens, watermelons, and sugarcane. The rustic restaurant was packed with drivers and motorists, including several families sitting at wooden tables, tucking into breakfast.

“No rickshaws or taxis,” murmured Jai.

Maya paused by one of the trees. “Don't worry, we'll find one. But first I need to talk to my sister.”

“There must be a phone down there,” said Jai, a calculating look in his eyes.

Maya nodded, praying for the strength to do what she needed to do. She stared up at the leafy branches and was surprised to see that it was a peepal, a sacred fig tree, like the one she'd enjoyed climbing in her
grandfather's garden. Her grandfather had explained to her that according to legend, the Buddha had attained
bodhi
, or enlightenment, while meditating underneath such a tree. Desperately seeking enlightenment herself, she glanced at Jai, who was staring quizzically at her tennis shoes, which were caked in dirt. Kneeling down, he brushed away some dead leaves near her feet, revealing a black square of leather.

With a wide grin, he flipped the wallet open and a thick wad of rupees spilled out into his palm.
Thank you, God!
Maya's heart raced at this stroke of good fortune. As they stood trembling behind the tree, footsteps approached, accompanied by guttural mumbling. Maya pulled Jai back and peered around the trunk, where a tall, burly man in a sky-blue
shalwar kameez
paced, surveying the ground, hand clutching his green turban.

“Aye, Guru,” he muttered, praying. “God is One. All victory is of the Wondrous Guru.” Maya and Jai shrank in the shadows as the man kicked stones with his sandaled feet. “Where is it?”

As Jai clutched the wallet, a debate raged in Maya's head.
Keep it; you can take a taxi directly to Faizabad,
said a voice, while another challenged,
You can't steal!
After hesitating for more than a minute, she grabbed the
wallet from Jai, whose eyebrows shot up. She crept from behind the tree, wallet outstretched.

At first the man stared at her hand, then looked at her face, eyes puzzled. “Aye, how did you get this?” he asked in Punjabi, which Maya somewhat understood since the language was a cousin of Urdu and Hindi.

“It was on the ground. . . . I found it,” she said, as Jai popped out behind her.

He looked at them, a thoughtful frown pulling his heavy eyebrows together. “Thank you,” he muttered, sticking it in the pocket of his
kameez
. “My wife would have my head if I arrived back home without my pay.” Then he turned to leave. Before Maya could retreat into the trees, he whipped back around. “Have you two eaten?”

Maya shook her head.

“My name's Bhagat. Bhagat Singh. Come,” he said, and trudged toward the
dhaba
.

Maya stood for a moment, frozen.
Don't talk to strangers,
echoed her grandmother's voice. But Jai was off, weaving through the tables where the families sat busily eating. It was better to think what to do on a full stomach, she reasoned. They sat across from each other at a picnic table as a waiter arrived, bear
ing a tray piled high with steaming
puri
(fried bread), potato curry, omelets studded with green chilies, sweet
halwa
, and tea, all piping hot. Without a word they dove in.

“Are you a truck driver?” Maya asked a moment later, trying to make polite conversation while Jai sat blissfully stuffing his face with sticky, sweet
halwa
. Only a
puri
and some potatoes for her, and a sweet cup of tea.

Bhagat nodded as he sopped up potatoes with
puri
. “Been driving for over ten years—I know the roads of India like the back of my hand.”

“Are we close to Faizabad?” she asked eagerly, trying to gauge how far they had to go.

“Faizabad is east of here, about seven hours away,” he said. “I've been there many times. It's a nice city, but it's had its share of trouble the past few years.”

“Are you going there?” asked Maya hopefully.

“No, I'm headed to Patna,” he said. “I'm delivering a load of sugarcane to the mill.”

Patna,
thought Maya with growing restlessness. She remembered seeing it on the map in the guidebook. It was the capital of the neighboring state of Bihar, probably another few hours east of Faizabad.

“Where are your parents, your family?” Bhagat asked, eyes narrowed as he washed the tips of his ­fingers from a tin cup of water.

Maya tensed. “Oh . . . they're, uh, coming.”

“Coming from where?” he probed.

Before he could get more suspicious, she stood up. “Thanks so much for breakfast, but we have to go.”

“Wait,” said Bhagat with a frown.

But she and Jai were already scurrying away, back toward the trees. When they were safely hidden behind the tree trunks, Jai tucked a
puri
filled with egg into his pocket. But it was what was in his other hand that made Maya's breath catch in her throat. “Where did you get that?”

“From her,” he grinned, still chewing, pointing back toward the woman at the table across from Bhagat.

It was a cell phone.

•  •  •

“Oh my God!” Zara screamed in her ear, making Maya wince. Then the questions began. “What happened to you? Where are you? How—”

“I got kidnapped,” interrupted Maya.

“What? Are you—”

“I'm fine now, safe,” added Maya. “And I have our
backpack, so all I need is a ride back to the train station.”

“Maya,” said Zara, her voice falling multiple octaves. “I'm not at the train station.”

“Where are you?” asked Maya.

“A lot happened since you disappeared,” she said. “I'm at the police station.”

“What?”
Maya said, fear settling over her. “Why are you at a police station?”

At the word “police,” Jai's eyes widened and he shook his head. “Don't trust the police,” he hissed.

“When I couldn't find you, I needed help,” explained Zara. “The stationmaster called the police. They looked all over for you, but you'd disappeared.”

“Don't trust the police,” said Maya.

“What? Why?” said Zara.

“The police, some of them are in on the kidnapping scheme,” said Maya.

“What? Are you sure?” asked Zara, her voice falling lower.

“Yes, I'm sure,” said Maya. “Just meet me at the train station. We need to get going if we're going to find
Naniamma
's chest.”

“Wait, about that . . . ,” said Zara, her voice cracking. “After you disappeared, I kind of freaked out. I called Mom—she'd reached the hospital in Delhi.
When she found out you were missing, she hired a car. She'll be here soon.”

“Mom's here?” said Maya, giving Jai a thumbs-up. “That's great; she can come with us.”

After a second of silence, Zara said, “I don't think that's going to happen.”

“What do you mean? Why not?” asked Maya.

“Mom is furious,” said Zara. “She's mad on top of mad: us sneaking off to India,
Naniamma
getting sick, us taking off, and then you disappearing. . . . There's no way she'd go looking for the chest.”

“What?”
cried Maya. “But we're so
close
.”

“I know, I
know
,” cried Zara. “But I was
wrong
,” she continued, surprising Maya. “It was a stupid, dangerous idea to go running off by ourselves—look what happened to you.”

“But I'm okay,” said Maya. “And Faizabad is only seven hours away. . . .”

“Look, I nearly lost you,” said Zara. “You're my little sister—I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you.”

Maya's eyes widened; she'd never heard her sister talk this way. “Nothing that bad happened to me,” she said, trying to make her sister feel better. “We're
meant to do this—to find
Naniamma
's treasure.”

“I know,” sighed Zara, “but we're in enough ­trouble as it is. We can't take off again.”

Maya squeezed her eyes tight and took a deep breath. All her thoughts came into sharp focus. She knew what she had to do. “No,” she said forcefully.

“Huh?” Zara said. “What's gotten into you?”

“We promised
Naniamma
we were going to get her chest. And that's what I'm going to do,” she said adamantly.

“Mom's going to be here any minute,” said Zara, “and she's not going to let us go anywhere.”

Mom is going to be there. . . . Good,
thought Maya, a plan materializing in her mind. “Zara,” she said, voice resolute. “I'm going to Faizabad, to the hotel
Naniamma
booked—Maurya—”

“But—,” Zara tried to interrupt.

“I'm going!” yelled Maya, shocking her sister into silence. “I will be at the hotel,” she repeated. “Mom won't have any choice but to follow me there. Once we're in Faizabad, it will make no sense
not
to go to
Naniamma
's old house to look for the chest.”

After a moment of silence, Zara whispered in a small voice, “Okay.”