uptight. She forgot about her own problems
too.
They waited for news on Preetu’s
mother but as another night drew in, they saw Preetu begin to lose hope. Anjali
looked after Bittu when Preetu was overwhelmed. Mohan helped too.
Three days in, the mother had not come. Anjali suggested staying a little longer. Families
and individuals arrived and left but still, there was no sign of the mother.
Anjali wondered whether her family were
looking for her too. A heavy weight entered her heart. She vowed she would go
back to Rajkot, to her home, one day.
Mohan came back from visiting
the officers once again. He did not have good news.
‘The camp manager from the other
side said the woman had left. He was astounded why she wasn’t here,’ Mohan said
to Anjali.
‘I am sorry Preetu, but we must move on,’ Mohan said with a
heavy heart.
‘I am grateful to you for
staying this long with me,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry, my mother will come.’
‘Why don’t you and Bittu come
with us?’ Mohan said. ‘I don’t like leaving you alone.’
Preetu’s face lit up. ‘You mean
that?’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Mohan.
Anjali hugged Preetu in delight.
‘Thank you,’ she said and hugged Mohan too.
Preetu giggled and Mohan laughed but he did
not let Anjali go.
‘I am glad too,’ he whispered.
The decision was final; the group of four would travel to
Lucknow that afternoon. Mohan drank his last refugee camp chai and Anjali played
with Bittu.
They heard a shrill scream.
‘Preetu!’
Both Anjali and Mohan looked towards
a large, short woman who came running towards them. She looked beaten and
fragile.
‘Ma?’
Preetu emerged from the tent and
ran to her mother, tears streaming down her face.
Anjali’s eyes blurred as mother
and daughter embraced, touching each other’s face and arms.
Preetu came back to her and
Mohan with her mother. Anjali placed Bittu into his mother’s arms. His mother cried
kissing his startled face, arms, and legs. Then she hugged Anjali and Mohan.
Preetu’s mother held her chai and sipped it slowly. They
were all sitting in Anjali’s tent. Bittu had gone back to sleep.
‘Ma ji, can you tell us how you lost Preetu and Bittu? asked
Anjali.
Preetu sat with her mother,
holding her arm.
‘I saw Preetu’s Papa stabbed. Then
one of them...did things to me,’ Preetu’s mother said heavily. ‘I almost died
had it not been my will to kill the man. I found a knife lying a little way
from me and I stabbed him!’ tears slid down her face. ‘I hid Preetu and Bittu
and went back for the others but I was too late. I could not come back for them
for I collapsed. When I awoke, I thought I had lost them as well.’
Anjali and Preetu were crying freely
now. Mohan was quiet. No one spoke for a long time. The mother broke the
silence.
‘Thank you for looking after my
children,’ she said. ‘I am indebted to you.’
‘We have grown fond of them in
such a short time. You have good children,’ said Mohan.
The mother clasped both Anjali and
Mohan’s hands. ‘Thank you.’
Mohan and Anjali said their goodbyes and left with Chameli. It
would be quiet journey to Lucknow but their last one.
ARIANNA
EIGHT
The morning pale light brought a cool and refreshing lift to
Arianna’s state of slumber. She woke up smiling and eager to begin the day. Swinging
her feet onto the cool marble floor, she turned to her still sleeping
companions – Tianna and Khushboo. Deciding to let them be, she tiptoed to the
window and opened the curtains.
Khushboo’s house overlooked a
generally lively street where numerous cars, auto rickshaws, and taxis drove
through, manoeuvring past vegetable and fruit vendors, pedestrians, cows and
dogs.
It was 6am and the milk boy was
delivering milk to his customers. Other traders were beginning to set up stalls
and the cart sellers were arranging their goods ready to sell to the people of
Mumbai.
Arianna loved this
Learning to Kill: Stories