Fifteen Lanes (28 page)

“For what purpose?” Ma knew the answer. There could be only one.

“He wants to sell me,” I said, before Pran could come up with a lie.

“Not without my permission,” said Ma coldly.

“There’ll be trouble if she’s not here when he returns, Ashmita. I won’t let him take her tonight but we must let him see her, so he doesn’t think you’re openly defying him. Then tomorrow we can all discuss what is to be done.” Pran’s voice was uncharacteristically reasonable. I felt a prickle of fear.

Ma gave him a hard stare. She too was suspicious. Aamaal moaned again. Ma got unsteadily to her feet, Aamaal in her arms. For the first time I realized what this fight had cost her. Though the drugs I’d been slipping her had helped, she was still weak.

“Please let me go with them, Pran-ji,” I pleaded. “I promise I’ll come back.”

“I’m sorry, Noor,” he said, sounding genuinely regretful. “I can’t do that. You must meet with Nishikar-Sir tonight. But I promise I won’t let him touch you until your ma returns.”

Ma looked from Pran to me, her face creased with indecision.

“I’ll be back soon, Noor. If I go quickly I might return before Nishikar-Sir gets here. Look after your brother.”

I held my breath, rigidly holding myself, so the tears would not fall.

“I’ll be back soon,” she repeated. “She had better be here when I return, Pran, or you will experience the true meaning of trouble.”

Ma swept past him and disappeared around the corner and
out of sight. The harsh glare of the fluorescent light gave Pran’s pointed features a maniacal glow as he advanced toward me. Shami hid behind my leg. I put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“If you go quietly, Noor, I won’t beat you.”

“You don’t need to lock me in, Pran. I’ll wait for Nishikar-Sir and my mother.”

He laughed. It was the most chilling sound I’d heard all night.

“You’ll be gone long before your mother returns, Noor. I’ll make sure of that.”

“You wouldn’t dare. Ma will be furious.”

“Perhaps, but she’ll get over it. We both know which daughter she loves, Noor. She’s always treated you as little more than a servant. I’m surprised you aren’t looking forward to getting away from her. You’ll have your own life, your own money.”

“Before or after I’ve paid back my purchase price?” I scoffed.

“Don’t worry, you’ll work in another of Nishikar-Sir’s brothels, possibly in Calcutta or Bangalore. Wouldn’t you like to see a bit more of this great country of ours? There will be no purchase price because he already owns you. A share of your earnings will go into your own pocket from the first day. Who knows, perhaps someday you’ll earn enough that you can send for the little brat.” He nodded at Shami.

I hoisted Shami onto my hip and tried to walk past him. “I’ve heard enough, Pran. I’ll wait outside for my mother.”

“You will do what I tell you, Noor, or I’ll wring your brother’s neck, like you should have done the day he was born, sickly runt that he is.”

I hesitated. Pran made a grab for Shami and we scuffled, Shami kicking out with his little legs, but even united we were no match for Pran. He had Shami out of my arms in seconds. We squared off, him holding my squirming, clawing brother, and me, my arms empty. I thought my heart would stop; the pain of seeing Shami in Pran’s clutches was that great. My pride, watching Shami’s determined struggle not to give in, was matched only by my agony. It was a struggle I’d witnessed every day of his life.

“All right,” I said. “Let him go. I’ll go with you.”

I wanted to recreate my fifteenth birthday. That’s my excuse. It was the best birthday I’d ever had. Up till then most of my birthdays had been little-kid birthdays: specifically, unpopular little-kid birthdays, by which I mean I celebrated with my family.

By my fifteenth birthday I still didn’t have enough friends to have a party but I did have one exceptionally wonderful friend who was determined to make my birthday special. Tina said it was time we had a sophisticated grown-up evening, no parents allowed. She chose a real five-star restaurant, with napkins and fine china. She even had to make a reservation. We both got dressed up and put on makeup. We had a good giggle when we got to the place and the hostess realized it was just us.

Tina ordered truffles crostini and roast duck; I ordered scallops almandine and grilled salmon. We were both dismayed to discover truffles were just expensive mushrooms. They tasted
hideous so we shared my scallops. The only rule was that everything we ordered had to be something we’d never tried before—new experiences to celebrate the new me. Tina said turning fifteen was like teetering on the precipice of adulthood. Sixteen was an adult. Fifteen was a practice run. The excitement of dating and college and careers seemed just around the corner. We couldn’t wait.

I didn’t tell Noor that Friday was my sixteenth birthday. I didn’t want to pressure her or make it into a big deal. But it was a big deal, bigger than she could possibly have imagined. The past few weeks had been a nightmare. I couldn’t believe that all my hopes and expectations of who I’d be on my sixteenth birthday could have imploded so dramatically in such a short space of time. I thought maybe with Noor I could recreate some of the magic of my friendship with Tina.

As usual it took many lies to convince my parents to let me spend the evening with Noor. It wasn’t just that she was a sex worker’s daughter, though that did worry them. More than that, they no longer trusted me to make good decisions without adult supervision. I told them Parvati and VJ would be there as well. I thought they might be more encouraging if it seemed that I was developing a group of friends. It didn’t help. They didn’t know any of my new friends, so their overprotective paranoia was in overdrive.

Mom insisted on talking me through my plans multiple times. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have suspected it was the lawyer in her trying to trip me up in a lie.

“And you’re going with VJ’s driver?”

“Yes, that’s why I’m walking to his house.”

“Why can’t our driver take you?”

“It’s like last year, Mom.
VJ
’s taking
me
out, like Tina did.” I knew that would get to her. Mom was almost as devastated by my loss of a best friend as I was.

“Maybe I should call VJ’s mother,” said Mom.

“Please don’t embarrass me, Mom. I need to go out with friends like a normal teenager.”

Mom sighed. The Achilles’ heel for both my parents was always the same. They wanted my life to be perfect. To control them, the only real challenge was to figure out how to convince them that giving me what I wanted would ensure that.

I spent considerable time deciding what to wear. I didn’t want to dress super-fancy like last year but I did put on one of my prettiest Indian print dresses and a bit of makeup. I wasn’t trying to show off. I just wanted to look my best. I hoped Noor would notice and tell me I looked nice. If it felt right, I’d admit it was my birthday. Maybe after the falafel place we could get cake somewhere.

When I was ready I did a quick turn in front of the mirror.

“What do you think, Bosco?” Bosco, asleep on my bed as usual, raised his head and looked at me. “I’m sixteen. Can you believe it? I want you to know things are going to be okay from now on. I really like Noor and I’ve got VJ. So you can stop worrying about me.”

I wasn’t at all sure if this was the truth, but I wanted it to be. I went over and gave his ears a reassuring rub, kissed him and headed to the kitchen to say good-bye to my parents.

Dad was sitting at the table. “Your mom tells me you’re going out with VJ and some girls from the NGO tonight,” said Dad, trying to sound as though he wasn’t crushed.

I walked over, hugged him and kissed the top of his head. He gave me a one-armed squeeze and I stayed a while with his arm around me.

“We can go out tomorrow night, Dad. It’ll give you more time to plan something really super-special.”

“Your mom and I could take you all out tonight for something super-special.”

“We’ve already made plans, Dad. I’ll do something with you guys tomorrow.”

“It won’t be your birthday tomorrow.”

Mom made big eyes at him across the table.

“I’m sixteen now, Dad. Sometimes I want to be with my friends.”

“You’ll always be my baby girl.”

“John!” said Mom in a reproving voice, though she was no better.

“You’re such a dork, Dad.”

I gave him a final hug before I pulled away and headed for the door. Both my parents jumped up to follow.

“If you run into any trouble, or if anyone says or does something that makes you feel uncomfortable, just call us,” said Mom, hugging me at the door. I’d already told her VJ was gay. It was probably the only reason she was letting me go.

“We’re just going to get pizza, Mom. Nothing is going to go wrong.”

Dad opened the door and gave me another hug. “Happy birthday, my girl.”

“Thanks, Dad. Love you.”

I walked to the elevator. I didn’t need to look back to know they were still at the door watching me.

I walked down the block before hailing a taxi. I’d already lied to my parents that VJ lived just around the corner. It would be just like them to watch out the front window.

The drive to Kamathipura took an hour, which was longer than usual. Friday night traffic in Mumbai was always terrible. I had trouble spotting the falafel place Noor had described. It was smaller than I’d expected but also a bit nicer. Most of the food outlets in Kamathipura were little more than counters with no place to sit. This one looked like a proper restaurant though it was open to the air, with just a few large overhead fans for cooling.

I was a few minutes late and disappointed that Noor wasn’t already there. There wasn’t a single woman in the place. I sat down at a table as close as I could get to the door, though there were only eight tightly packed tables and most were occupied. I’d been sitting about fifteen minutes when I noticed the server behind the counter staring at me. It was one of those places where you have to go up to the counter to order. He must have been wondering what I was waiting for. I got out my phone.

already at restaurant. U far?
I texted.

I waited for an answer. A group of men came in and took the last empty table. I could feel the counter guy’s eyes on me, though I was careful not to look his way. Men from other tables were gawping at me as well. I suddenly felt exposed in my flimsy Indian frock. I should have just worn jeans. My face burned with embarrassment. I looked at my phone again. Noor was almost thirty minutes late. I’d never felt so pathetic.

restaurant crowded. u here soon?
I typed.

I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Another fifteen minutes passed.

Nothing.

So far this was the worst birthday ever. Maybe I should have gone to her house but I didn’t have the courage to walk through Kamathipura alone at night. Surely if she’d had to cancel she’d have let me know. I couldn’t continue to sit there if I didn’t get food. The counter clerk was clearly talking about me with one of his servers, gesturing angrily. I flushed with embarrassment. They were going to throw me out any minute. I got up and went to the counter to order a falafel and water, though I really only wanted the water. The heat, combined with my anxiety, was making me queasy.

I couldn’t bear the thought of going home and giving up on this night, though it was obvious Noor wasn’t coming. I’d had such stupidly high hopes, not only for my birthday but for our friendship. I took my food back to the table and proceeded to consume it as slowly as possible. It was close to eight, two hours after we were meant to meet, when I sent one final text.

can only wait a few more minutes. hope u ok

The last statement was both true and not. I was genuinely worried about Noor. She lived a precarious life. Maybe something bad had happened to her. At the same time, it seemed too coincidental that she’d have a serious problem the very same night we’d agreed to meet. A far more likely explanation was that she’d decided she didn’t want to have dinner with me. On reflection, she hadn’t seemed that keen. I was the loser trying to force my friendship on her. Why should she want to be my friend? No one else did.

So, on my sixteenth birthday, I sat alone in a run-down restaurant, surrounded by men openly ogling me, wishing I could disappear.

Noor didn’t like me.

I felt foolish that I’d expected anything more and betrayed because I really did like her and Shami and Aamaal. What was so wrong with me? My eyes stung with unshed tears. I only wanted to be her friend. Was that too much to ask? I felt like screaming or hurling my half-eaten falafel across the room.

I didn’t.

I had a better way to release tension.

The washroom sign was to the right. I picked up my bag and headed over. I was grateful to find the door unlocked, but disappointed, when I stepped inside, to discover it filthy and foul-smelling. I took the knife from my bag. Fortunately, I was wearing a dress—easier access. I hiked it up, gingerly leaned against the wall and bent my leg, bringing my canvas within reach. The first letter was an obvious choice.