Djinn Patrol on the Purple Line - Deepa Anappara Page 0,119
Bahadur’s ma that they have also recovered his bones, but they need to do more DNA-testing to be hundred percent certain. The police haven’t found anything of Runu-Didi’s other than the scrunchie.
“Why don’t you stay?” Pari asks me when I say I’m leaving. “Ma is going to make Maggi for dinner tonight.”
“My ma won’t like it if I’m not home by then.”
I keep my head down as I fast-walk toward somewhere, not home, because I don’t want to go home just yet. But no matter how quickly I walk, chachas and chachis pounce on me and ask me the questions they can’t ask Ma and Papa. I should start running everywhere like Runu-Didi. Then these people won’t be able to stop me.
“Heard anything about your sister?” a man blocking my way asks.
“Your sister who was snatched,” a woman standing next to him explains as if I don’t know.
“Have the police called your parents about her?” asks a girl with black dirt folded into the creases of her neck.
“They say they don’t know how many children are missing,” the woman tells the man, “seven, twenty, thirty, maybe a hundred, a thousand even.”
“There aren’t that many children in our basti,” the man says.
“Arrey, they were kidnapping street children and those ragpicker children too.”
“The police are still doing DNA tests,” I say.
“How long will this testing take?” the girl asks.
“Months,” I say. I have no idea. Maybe when the CBI come, they’ll speed everything up. Maybe they won’t. I think Pari is right, and we’ll never find out what the monsters at Golden Gate did to Runu-Didi.
More jabbering chachas and chachis appear out of nowhere, trying to trip me with questions. I slip out of the crowd and run toward Bahadur’s house. I like to spy on other families that are sad like ours because I want to find out if they are doing anything different to stop ghosts from clutching their bones.
Shanti-Chachi keeps telling me that I have to man up now and take care of Ma and Papa. I am worried about Ma. Every night as we eat, she stares at my face, maybe hoping to see Runu-Didi in me, and then she turns away disappointed, tears trickling down her cheeks. Ma has also become so thin and weak I’m afraid she’ll fall down and die one of these days, and it will just be me and Papa, and Papa doesn’t even talk much anymore. He comes home smelling of hooch and staggers into bed. He’s becoming Drunkard Laloo 2.
Bahadur’s house is lying locked but there are TV people in front of it, interviewing Quarter. He has traded his black clothes for a saffron shirt and khaki trousers.
“We were the only party to step in when the local police refused to help,” he says. “We are an integral part of this community.”
I wonder if the pradhan and Quarter knew the truth about Varun; if the boss-lady gave the pradhan a cut for every child from the basti who vanished. I heard Shanti-Chachi’s husband say that to a man in front of him at the toilet queue.
I think of throwing stones at Quarter, then I decide I don’t want to make him angry. What if he kidnaps me? What will happen to Ma and Papa then? I walk toward Bhoot Bazaar instead. I’ll say hello to Samosa and then I’ll go home for sure.
* * *
Our house is full of bad dreams. Ma has them and I have them too. In my dreams Runu-Didi flies out of a balcony in the Golden Gate building, spreading out her giant wings. She’s Jatayu from ancient times but she’s also wounded and bleeding. Ma doesn’t tell me what her dreams are. From the way she gets up screaming, I can tell they are dreadful.
I feel a shadow, cold and lonely, passing over me. I look up, afraid it’s the bird, afraid it’s Didi. But the sky is empty. Something brushes against my legs. It’s Samosa. I kneel down to scratch his ears. His pink tongue flops out as if he’s smiling.
I search my pockets for food but they are empty. Samosa nuzzles up against my legs. He doesn’t care that I have nothing to give him. He’s my real friend. Faiz has left me and Pari is leaving me but Samosa will never leave me.
I go to Duttaram’s. He doesn’t talk to me because he’s busy.
I tell Samosa to come with me and we walk toward my house. I’m going to ask Ma and Papa if Samosa can live with us because, first of all, Samosa is clever; second of all, Samosa is like a policeman but a good one; and third of all, Samosa won’t let anyone snatch me. These are excellent reasons.
“Race you home,” I tell Samosa.
He watches me, wagging his tail.
“We’re going to see who runs the fastest. Theek-thaak?” I ask him. “On your marks, get set, GO!” Then I run as fast as I can. My heart feels like it’s exploding, my tongue hangs out like Samosa’s, but I only stop when I reach my doorstep. Then I breathe in and out with my hands on my knees.
I turn around to see where Samosa is. He’s trotting toward me, panting and looking puzzled. “I won I won I won,” I shout, scaring the chickens and goats near us. Samosa licks my hands. He’s not a sore loser.
“I’m the fastest runner in the world,” I say.
“What a joke,” I hear Runu-Didi say.
“Shut up,” I say and then I remember that though her voice is still in my head, she isn’t around. I sit down on our doorstep. Samosa puts his head on my lap. His fur is soft and warm. The TV blares in Shanti-Chachi’s house. “Should slums be demolished? Have your say. Send us your thoughts on…”
I gaze up at the sky. Today the smog is a curtain thin enough for me to spot the twinkle of a star behind it. I can’t even remember when I last saw a star.
“Look,” I say to Samosa. But it’s already gone. Maybe it was never there. Maybe it was only a satellite or an airplane. Maybe it was Runu-Didi telling me I shouldn’t worry because gods are real and are taking good care of her. She’s watching over me the way Mental watches over his boys, I just know it.
Then I see the star again. I point it out to Samosa. I tell him it’s a secret signal, from Runu-Didi to me. It’s so powerful, it can fire past the thickets of clouds and smog and even the walls that Ma’s gods have put up to separate one world from the next.