Ticket to India (14 page)

21

The Last Leg

C
OOL WIND WHIPPED AGAINST
her face as Maya swerved past a pothole, pedaling as if rabid dogs were snapping at her heels. His arms wrapped around her middle, Jai clung to her back, periodically looking behind him to see if they were being followed. But there was no one. The moment Maya had realized that the boys were scared of the Gulabi Gang, a plan had formed in her mind. She knew that if they could make it into the women's midst, they'd be safe. Weaving through the chanting women, they'd exited on the other side of the road. Maya had spotted a rusty black bike leaning against a drugstore stoop. With
out thinking twice, she'd jumped on, hoisting Jai up behind her.

They'd traveled in silence until they'd ended up along the main road hugging the river.

“Stop,” said Jai, voice subdued. “I need to pee.”

While he found a shrub to take care of business, Maya sat on an outcropping of rock, letting the hum of the currents soothe her nerves. She pulled out the cell phone and dialed Zara, but still no one picked up. Worry pooled in her gut. They couldn't go back to the hotel; it was too dangerous. She texted a message asking her to meet them at
Naniamma
's house, leaving out the details of what had happened with the boys. She didn't want to worry them more than they already were. She also texted Zara pictures of the memory map that instructed how to get to the house.

With a worried sigh, she stared across a peaceful aquamarine stretch of the river. A Hindu temple stood on a sandy beach, its pavilion providing shade to a row of meditating
sadhus
. Bodies covered in ash, two wiry figures carried a statue down to the river. It was Lord Rama. Its deep blue skin triggered a ­memory—of walking with her grandmother and sister in Delhi, stumbling upon the temple that had led them to Sunehri Mosque. Although it had been a few
days ago, it felt like a lifetime. So much had happened since then—so much that she hadn't anticipated—but somehow she had found the power within herself to come this far. Maya remembered the man's words from the bus.
May you find what you seek. I see a great longing in your soul.

“It's twice I've gotten away from them now,” a subdued voice said beside her.

Maya started, turning to Jai. He had a drawn, worried look on his face. The exhilaration of escaping Babu had gone. “I know you're worried about Guddi—,” she said.

“I shouldn't have come,” he interrupted, eyes bright with unshed tears. “They'll do something terrible to her. . . . They might sell her!”

“No, no, they won't,” said Maya, grabbing his hand. “Look. Even if you'd stayed, you knew you needed to get away from them. But where would you have gone? Back on the streets?” Jai's lips tightened at the truth. “You'd be back in the same spot as you were when Ladu found you. You'd have no protection and something more terrible could happen to you or Guddi.”

“We're not like you,” Jai shot back, eyes flashing. “We are not important—foreign and rich. People don't care about us—whether we live or die.”

Maya froze, his words a slap across her face.
He's right,
she thought, ashamed. Her life flashed before her eyes, her privileged life: her house, her loving ­parents—everything about it was so different from Jai's, or the lives of children on the streets of Karachi. “I care about you . . . what happens to you,” she said, her voice tight.

“Why should you? I'm nobody,” said Jai, face set.

“You're brave and smart,” Maya said. “Without you I couldn't have even imagined doing the things I did.”

“I wasn't smart enough to save Guddi,” said Jai, adamant.

“No matter how smart you are, going back on the streets on your own is not the answer,” said Maya. “So I swear to you, as soon as my mom gets here, we're going to find Guddi.”

Jai stood, a flicker of true hope flitting across his face.

“Will you keep helping me?” she asked.

Finally, he nodded.

Maya smiled and pulled him in for a hug, which he resisted, but only for a moment. They stood in silence, comforted by the burble of the water beside them, which reminded Maya of another meaning of her name: eternal spring.

A few minutes later, she pulled out
Naniamma
's map and spread it out on the rock. “Look, the notes say that the road to Aminpur branches off from the clock tower at the center of town, near Faizabad Jail.”

“We'll need to go back into town,” said Jai.

With a renewed sense of urgency, they climbed on the bicycle and pushed off.

•  •  •

Through bites of a sandwich, a helpful taxi driver pointed them in the right direction. Clinging to the edge of a busy road, Maya zigzagged through a herd of cows, one of which had decided to sit down in the middle of the intersection.

“Gulab Bari . . . Gulab Bari,” Jai kept muttering in her ear, eyes roving ahead as he sat behind her on the bicycle.

The taxi driver had told them to take a right at the famous Gulab Bari, “Garden of Roses,” which housed the tomb of an illustrious
nawab
who'd made Faizabad a hub for commerce and trade. From the corner of her eye, Maya spotted the sign for Faizabad Jail. She slowed. According to
Naniamma
's notes, this was where her great-grandfather's friend Ashfaqulla Khan, along with other freedom fighters, Ramaprasad Bismil and Roshan Singh, had been
hanged after an attack against the British in 1927.

“There,” Jai suddenly shouted into Maya's ear, making her wince. He pointed toward elegant gates set in a tall pockmarked wall.

Through the bars, Maya could see a lush rose garden and a cream-and-gold mausoleum rising from its midst. Maya nodded and stuck out her right arm to signal her turn. True to
Naniamma
's memory, the clock tower stood straight ahead, waiting for them. The hands on its face were about to strike four as she wove through people crowding the vegetable market, carrying baskets of leafy greens, cucumbers, eggplants, and squash.

Past the market she took the third road to the left of the clock tower. It led them to the edge of town, where the clamor and confusion ebbed, and they merged onto Nawab Yusuf Road, which ran parallel to the river. A blue-and-white sign with arrows pointed to various destinations: Lucknow, Ayodhya, Nawabganj, and
Aminpur
. Another 4.5 kilometers. They were getting close!

•  •  •

The shimmering waters of Lake Talwar reflected the sun as it hung low in the sky. According to
Naniamma
's notes, Aminpur sat on the northeast side of the
lake. But as the road curved around a bend, the first line of squat concrete shops appeared. Jai's arms tightened around her middle as she pushed on toward the main bazaar, her legs aching from the strenuous ride.

“There,” cried Jai, spotting ghostly minarets rising in the distance.

“Great,” said Maya, wiping sweat from her forehead. She'd told him to look for a mosque, and there it was. Ignoring her protesting legs she pedaled past a small bazaar, keeping an eye out for the old primary school her grandmother had attended as a child. As the mina­rets came closer, she saw it—a freshly painted board hanging outside the gates of a tidy school, its front yard empty. Two teachers exited, carrying satchels full of books.

She breathed a sigh of relief.
We're going the right way.

A quarter of a mile down stood the mosque, abandoned and in disrepair. Goose bumps rose along Maya's arms as she remembered the little picture of a building with minarets her grandmother had drawn on the memory map: This was where the road led to the heart of the old Muslim part of town. According to
Naniamma
's notes, her old house was situated on a prime parcel of land sitting beside the lake, where she went swimming as a little girl with her sisters and cousins. Maya
pedaled up the road as it wound back toward the lake, and rode up alongside a scraggly park. Old villas sat placidly in a row, like old matrons sunning themselves, their backs to the lake, facing the dusty grass.

“It's one of these,” whispered Maya, sticking out her legs to stop.

As Jai slid off, she parked the bike in the shade of a tree, across from a posse of boys playing cricket. Laughter filled the humid air as the ball escaped and rolled over to Jai, who picked it up and tossed it back. Jumping up to catch it, a wiry kid gave them a friendly grin and returned to his friends. Maya pulled out the dog-eared note as Jai looked over her elbow.

“It looks like it's this one,” he said, pointing to an
X
over the drawing of a boxy house.

Maya nodded, looking from the drawing to the fifth house from the mouth of the street. She stood with her hand in her pocket, clutching the key, not quite believing she was there.

“So what are we waiting for?” asked Jai, kicking a stone in impatience.

She ignored him, savoring the moment as the sun sank lower.

“It's going to get dark soon,” complained Jai, crossing his arms over his chest.

Maya squared her shoulders, then stepped onto the road, Jai at her heels. Together they counted the houses until they stood in front of a two-story villa, ivy clinging to its walls. Shuttered windows lined the second floor like a row of aging, ivory teeth, but Maya only had eyes for a large metal lock embedded in the weathered wooden door. She walked up the path to the door, but as she reached out to insert the heavy iron key, she detected the distinct smell of smoke and cooking. She frowned. This was no empty, neglected house. Like her great-uncle's house back in Delhi, it appeared to have new owners. She couldn't just unlock the door and walk in—it would be rude, and maybe even dangerous.

As she stood on the stoop, debating what to do, a flash of white appeared at the window above. Blinking, she stared up, but before she could see who it was, heavy curtains fell back in place.

“Who was that?” she asked Jai, but he shrugged.

She took a deep breath and rapped on the door. After another round of banging, a gaunt man opened it a crack and stared at her with a glaring red-rimmed eye.

“Namaste,”
said Maya in a rush. “I'm Alia Tauheed's granddaughter. She used to live here, in this house. Before Partition.”

The eye narrowed, suspicion clouding the dark pupil.

“She left something here,” Maya said in a rush. “Something I need to collect.”

“Not possible,” growled the man. “No one by that name ever lived here.”

“B-but . . . ,” Maya stuttered.

“Go away,” shouted the man, “before I call the police.” He slammed the door.

Maya stood shaking.
Police . . . no police.

“He's a liar,” spat Jai.

“But he said no one by that name lived here,” said Maya, throat tight with tears.

“Let me see that map of yours,” said Jai. He guided her back to the tree and examined the drawings as she sat slumped against the trunk. “This is definitely the right house,” he said, pointing down at the diagram of the street
Naniamma
had drawn. The back of the house had waves, indicating the lake. The back garden had an
X
where the tree they were looking for stood. “This is definitely it.”

Maya nodded, anger replacing fear. “Then we have to get into that house.”

Jai nodded. “Yeah, we'll figure out how to do it. I didn't live with the best-known thieves in Agra for nothing.”

22

Digging Up the Past

M
AYA AND
J
AI HUDDLED
near the back gate of her grandmother's villa, listening to the household finish their evening chores and turn in for the night. After the old man had slammed the door in their faces, Maya had stood, petrified, until Jai had grabbed her arm and dragged her away. Since the straightforward approach hadn't worked, they needed a plan B. “Once everyone in the house falls asleep,” he'd whispered, “we need to sneak in and dig up the chest.” Realizing that they didn't have another choice than to become thieves, Maya had reluctantly agreed.

Now she sat with her back against the wall, staring
at the moon, hanging full and plump, the same celestial satellite that had overseen her mad dash across what seemed like half of India. Now they were so close. She glanced over at Jai, who was biting his lip and leaning against the wall. He was thinking about his little sister, she knew. She wanted to reach out to comfort him, but there was nothing to say that she hadn't said already. She just had to live up to her promise that they were going to get Guddi. And for that, she needed her mother, who should have been there hours ago.
Where are they?
she pondered for the thousandth time.
Did something bad happen to them? Did they run into Babu and the boys?
From one worry her mind raced to another.
How is
Naniamma
doing back at the hospital
? All the uncertainty was making her feel like she was going to throw up.

Slowly the flicker of the last gas lamp extinguished, leaving the cracks between the door dark and silent. Jai poked her in the ribs, his crooked white teeth flashing in the darkness. “It's now or never,” he whispered, helping her stand up.

Beside them, next to the wooden gate, was a stack of odds and ends they'd collected from the river's edge; bricks, boxes, and chunks of wood, assembled to make enough of a step to help them climb over the
gate. Maya gingerly climbed up first, then hooked her hands over the edge and hauled herself up. Straddling the wall, she leaned down and grabbed Jai's small hands and pulled him up. For a minute, they sat gazing down into the leafy garden spread out beneath them. Along the wall grew a mixture of ornamental flowers and shrubs; to the left, squash vines grew up a trellis, providing shade to a vegetable patch. But it was the trees Maya was interested in; nearly half a dozen rose from various spots throughout the garden. Beyond the treetops she glimpsed a tiled veranda hugging the side of the house. For a moment, the silence comforted her, and she imagined
Naniamma
there as a little girl, running across the veranda into the house, playing with her sisters.

She should be seeing this,
Maya thought, her breath catching in her throat.

Jai poked her with a sharp finger, breaking through her disconsolate thoughts. He angled his head to the right, pointing to a soft patch of grass.

Maya nodded, and then leapt, tumbling toward shadowy bushes. She froze beside the profusion of small ivory flowers, inhaling the familiar scent.

Pointy elbows and knees landed beside her. She
paused a moment to let Jai nuzzle the tiny petals. “Jasmine,” he whispered. “My father would bring my mother a wreath to wear in her hair.” Shaking his head as if to clear it, he scrambled forward, probing the windows, looking for any sign of life. “What kind of tree is it?” he asked.

“Guava,” said Maya, recalling the notes. Her great-grandmother had planted it with
Naniamma
just a year before Partition. “It has a deep gash at its base. Oh, and the letters
RMT
—my great-grandfather's initials—are carved into its lowest branch.”

“Okay,” said Jai, and they hurried toward the first tree, five feet away.

It was a mango, young and supple, not what they were looking for. Their tree would now be more than sixty years old, thick and hard with years of growth. The next tree was also a mango, older and filled with ripe fruit. Beside it branched a leafy sandalwood. They zigzagged through a line of drying clothes toward a gnarled tree hunched over a chicken coop, its branches weighed down by small greenish orbs. Hope burst in Maya's heart and she scurried forward, sniffing the familiar astringent scent of
Naniamma
's favorite fruit. Reaching the trunk, they investigated
its rough bark. Maya's hungry eyes scoured its length.
The gash!
She pointed it out to Jai.

Agile as a monkey, Jai climbed, inspecting the branches as he went. As the tree had grown, the bottom­most branches had reached the middle or even the top of the tree. But after several minutes, his face appeared, hanging upside down, marred with a deep frown. “I don't see any initials,” he whispered. “I looked all over.”

Maya stood, biting her lip. “Well, it's pretty dark up there.”

“The branch could have broken off.” Jai shrugged.

Maya nodded. “According to the notes, we have to dig.”

With a small shovel and trowel they found in a shed behind the chicken coop, the duo got on their hands and knees and burrowed into the thick soil as quietly as they could. Sweat pooled at the base of Maya's spine as the mound of dirt beside them grew. But after over an hour and a half, they'd excavated a hole four feet deep and found nothing but gnarled tree roots, rocks, an empty glass bottle, and an old slipper.

“Are you sure this is it?” asked Jai, wiping his forehead, leaving a streak of mud.

“That's what my grandmother's notes say,” said Maya.

“Was it buried directly under the gash?” prodded Jai.

Maya shrugged, stomach in knots. “It wasn't so specific.”

“She probably thought she'd be here and would remember it herself,” he stated astutely.

Maya nodded.
She should be here.

“Let's dig on the other side,” Jai suggested helpfully.

After another two hours of digging, they'd gone three feet and hit a chunk of concrete. They moved clockwise to another spot and dug. Nothing.

“Are you sure it's this tree?” asked Jai, exhaustion lining his face.

Maya nodded, her throat tightening.
Was
Nani­amma
wrong? Did she dream up the whole thing?
The horrible thought settled over her chest like a boulder. She'd come all this way, risked so much, and had nothing to show for it. Nanabba
will be buried without his ring!
She crumpled beside a mound of dirt, mind in a daze, not noticing the shovel drop from her fingers.
I've failed
Naniamma
. And
Nanabba . 
. . ,
she thought, her mind numb. There was no chest. No engagement ring, pictures, mementos, or memories. It had all been a huge mistake. Tears blurred her vision and a great sob built up in her throat. Somewhere in the house,
something stirred and faint sounds of movement filtered out into the stillness of the early morning. Dawn was fast approaching and they'd completely lost track of time.

“Maya,” whispered Jai, tugging on her hand. “We have to
go
.”

His voice barely registered in Maya's mind. When light flickered in the veranda window, a sense of danger penetrated her sorrow and she scrambled up, wiping her nose with a muddy sleeve. Jai crouched protectively beside her, holding the trowel like a weapon as the veranda door swung open with a bang. Footsteps echoed across the tiled floor as Maya and Jai huddled behind the guava tree. A man crossed in front of them, heading toward the chicken coop with a basket. Maya tensed; it was the same man who'd opened the door the day before.

“Come on!” Jai grabbed her arm.

They jumped up and turned to run back toward the gate, but in her rush Maya's foot caught in one of the holes they'd dug. She stumbled, taking Jai down with her just as the sun peeked over the lake.