Boys without Names by Kashmira Sheth Read Free Book Online

asleep. I cover them with a blanket.
    â€œYou picked a good story to tell. When they know the end they relax and doze off,” Aai says to me.
    â€œIs your kahani done?” a voice from my left asks.
    I turn and see a girl my age sitting cross-legged. Even in the dim light her smile is bright. I am surprised because I didn’t think anyone else was listening to my story. “Yes. This is the end,” I tell her.
    â€œBut I thought Birbal had died.”
    â€œNo, no. Birbal had dug a tunnel from his house to the cemetery. He climbed down from the pyre before the fire could burn him. Then he didn’t leave his house for two months.”
    â€œYou never mentioned that,” she says with a confused look.
    â€œI know. My brother and sister have heard this story so many times that I don’t need to.”
    â€œTum acchi kahani sunate ho,” she says.
    I smile. Her compliment that I tell a good story fills me with happiness. By now the footpath has filled up and I can’t tell if the people sleeping next to the girl are her family or not. Without a family and a home, it would be so scary to live in this city. I’m fortunate to have Baba, Aai, Naren, and Sita with me. And tomorrow we will be at Jama’s home.
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    I stretch out on the pavement. In the village, sometimes we slept outside our hut in the open, but here it is different. Strangers walk by us; they have homes and they know we don’t. I am ashamed to be sleeping here and wish I could tell them we have a place to go. I can’t do that, but tomorrow when these people walk home they won’t see us.
    The traffic thins out as the night descends. In the daylight the city is overwhelming like a crowded fair, and at night it is forbidding like an enemy’s camp. Many people line up on the footpath like us. Some have old rugs or blankets, and some have put down pieces of cardboard or tarp to lie on. The girl who listened to the story has a piece of fabric spread out. There are a few who use nothing. No one walking, especially the people with fancy clothes and a home to go to, seems to pay any attention to us. I guess half the city sleeps outside. The concrete is hard to lie on and I miss the mud floor.
    The voices seem to move away as I get drowsy.
    I wake up with a scream when something hits me hard in the stomach. I double over with pain. “Why are you sleeping here?” a voice blares at me. I open my eyes and see black shoes too close to my face.

six
    â€œW hat happened, Gopal?” Baba asks.
    I manage to look up at the man with the black shoes. He is dressed in a khaki uniform. A policeman.
    â€œIs this your family?” he asks Baba. In the dark, it is hard to see his features, but his mustache is thick and bushy.
    Baba is sitting up by now and so am I.
    â€œYou can’t sleep here,” the policeman barks.
    There’re other people doing the same thing on both sides of us. Why is he only bothering us? Maybe other people have paid him to sleep here and we haven’t.
    â€œWe just arrived from our village yesterday and have nowhere to go. Let us sleep here tonight. I have two small children,” Baba pleads, pointing at Sita and Naren.
    The policeman stares at us and waits. Aai is up too. She puts her finger on her mouth, signaling me to be quiet.
    Baba joins his palms together as if he is praying. “Please, show mercy. Where can we go in the middle of the night?” The policeman doesn’t budge. I think he’s waiting for a bribe.
    â€œWe poor people have no money,” Baba says. His face is pinched with pain. I hate what this place has done to Baba. He would never have talked like that in the village. I wish we could just go back this instant and never return.
    The policeman taps his foot. My insides knot up, getting ready for another kick. But it doesn’t come. “If I see you here tomorrow night, you will have a place to sleep. The jail,” he says, and walks