because they called us Muslims foreigners. They holler during rallies that Hindustan is only for Hindus, and that people like you and me should go to Pakistan. But even they come here to pray. They send their henchmen at dawn, when these ruins are almost empty, to clear the grounds of people so that no one can take a photo of them bowing before our djinns. They also stop the Archeological Survey from locking us out because they trust our djinns as much as we do. These politicians have rotten tongues and wicked hearts, but the djinns don’t turn them away. Everyone is equal here.
Talk to any of the visitors. You will learn that they are here because they have lost something. Sometimes they have lost hope itself and it’s here, in these ruins that frighten you so much, that they will find a reason to live.
Dear boy, listen to us for your own good. Take off your slippers, wash your feet, and step inside. The djinns are waiting.
SCHOOL IN THE NEW YEAR IS THE—
—same as school in the old year but also worse because of exams. After the last bell rings, Pari and I stand in the corridor, Pari biting her nails and then adding up numbers with her fingers because she thinks she has got one answer wrong in the Maths test. I must have got one-two-three-ten-all answers wrong, but I don’t care. I tell Pari about Papa slapping Runu-Didi and she clenches and unclenches her hand and says, “Five times, five times you have told me about this today.”
“I didn’t too,” I say. Pari didn’t even let me talk this morning because she wanted to revise in her head. I wish Faiz was here because Faiz is good at listening. But Faiz is at a traffic junction, selling roses or phone covers or toys we don’t get to have ourselves, but we are too old for toys anyway. He’s missing exams, and afterward he’ll miss many days of school, maybe even a whole year if Tariq-Bhai isn’t released soon.
Runu-Didi comes out into the corridor.
“We’re ready,” I say when she stops near us. Didi, Pari and I are supposed to go home together.
“Don’t wait for me,” Didi says. “I have to talk to Coach.”
“Will he be angry you have to miss inter-district?” Pari asks.
Didi’s hard eyes tell me off for being a blabbermouth. Then she says, “He’ll have to make a change at the last minute. What do you think?”
Didi’s ears look bare without her earrings. I put my hand out to pat her forearm.
“Chi,” Didi says. “Why is your hand so sticky?”
“Better not to ask,” Pari says.
“Pari scratches her backside. Not me.”
“Stay away,” Didi says.
“Go pick the ticks off your coach-boyfriend’s balls. That’s what you do best anyway,” I find myself saying.
Pari gasps and covers her mouth with both her hands. I march toward the school gate, and Pari comes running after me. At the gate, I turn my head to look at Runu-Didi. She’s still standing in the corridor outside our classrooms, leaning against a pillar. Her fan, the spotty boy, stands on the other side of the pillar, smiling a wide smile into what must be the camera of his mobile. He runs his tongue, slowly, over his teeth. Didi is looking at the part of the playground where the coach is about to start his training session for girls, so she may not have noticed her fan.
No one talked about Kabir and Khadifa today; maybe because they aren’t from our school. Even the headmaster didn’t name them at assembly, but he did warn us to be on our guard at all times.
* * *
“Runu-Didi told me to come home by myself,” I say when Ma gets back. “She’s still at school. Her coach must be making her train extra.”
Didi and I are fighting, so we don’t have to keep each other’s secrets. That’s the rule. Didi will understand.
Ma sighs and sits on the bed. I look at the alarm clock. It’s six, which means it’s six-fifteen or six-thirty. Didi’s training should be over by now. I guess she’s staying out just to spite Ma and Papa. It’s a stupid thing to do.
“Runu must be angry,” Ma says. She closes her eyes and starts to pray, Lord, let my daughter be safe. She says it nine times and opens her eyes.
“Parents shouldn’t hit children,” I say. “We aren’t in ancient times like when you were a child.”
Ma goes out to talk to Shanti-Chachi.