Born Behind Bars

by Padma Venkatraman

  “I promise.”

  After Patti leaves, I stare out the window at the moon. It’s torn in half, but I remember what Rani said.

  It’ll grow back.

  65

  Truth and True Friends

  The next day, as we return home from the market and pass the boys playing cricket, a ball comes flying at us. I reach up and catch it.

  “Howzaatt!” the boys cheer. “He caught it—you’re out.”

  “No way!” the boy holding the bat complains. “He’s not on your team!”

  “He is now!” a boy wearing spectacles shouts, and looks at me. “You wanted to play with us, right?”

  “Go on,” Patti says. “We didn’t buy much today. I can carry the bags upstairs.”

  “Come on!” the spectacled boy says. “Join us!”

  Patti is marching up the stairs already. I promised her I’d play with them. I stay.

  The spectacled boy runs over. “Good catch! When did you move here? Are you going to join our school when it reopens? How old are you? I’m Lakshman. What’s your name?”

  I’m glad he asked so many questions, because I can choose which one to answer. “I’m Kabir.”

  “Are you as good at batting as you are at fielding?”

  “I’m not sure—I don’t know much about cricket, actually,” I confess.

  “How come you don’t know anything about cricket? Did you come from some foreign place where you played some other sport?”

  “Sort of. Can you explain cricket’s rules? I’ve watched you play from our apartment. It looks pretty complicated, but I learn fast.”

  “Sure. Tomorrow, come over to my place in the morning and I’ll explain all the rules. But you don’t need to know them to play. For now, you can be a fielder. That’s easy—you just run after the ball and catch it and throw it to one of your teammates. Come on.” He waves to the other boys.

  The other boys run over and crowd around me, saying what a good catch I made. The batsman looks a bit grumpy, but even he says hello.

  I’m nervous and make a couple of mistakes, but I also pull off two more “spectacular catches,” according to Lakshman, so my teammates are pretty happy with me. When we’re done, I feel a nice kind of tired. The boys break up and walk to different buildings, except for Lakshman, who joins me.

  As we walk up the stairs of our building together, he chatters away. “Cricket is a great way to make friends. Trust me. I didn’t know anyone when we moved here from Chennai last year. Where did you move from? Or are you just visiting? I’ve seen you with your grandmother. Where do your parents live?”

  I hesitate, but only for a minute. Telling him the truth will be a test that’ll show me if he can be as nice a friend as Rani. If not, I don’t want to make friends with him.

  “My father’s dead.”

  “I’m sorry. That must be so hard,” he says. “My grandfather died last year, and I still miss him. Where’s your mother?”

  “The police put my mother in jail, even though she didn’t do anything wrong,” I say. “I’m trying to find a lawyer to get her out.”

  “Oh!” Lakshman looks impressed. “You are? How’s that going?”

  “I’ve not had much luck yet. But I’m not giving up. There must be some generous lawyers, right?”

  “Of course. There’s all sorts of good people in the world.” Lakshman’s smile is so bright, my heart feels lighter. “When I grow up,” Lakshman says in a grand voice, “I am going to become a lawyer who helps people who don’t have money. You think I can do that?”

  “Why not?” I smile, thinking of Bedi Ma’am’s words, which feel so long ago now.

  “You want to become a lawyer too?” he says. “We could fight for justice together.”

  “Sure,” I say, although I’ve never thought about it before.

  “Or maybe a policeman. You know, a good policeman, like in movies.”

  “Okay,” I say, but Lakshman changes his mind again.

  “Or maybe we could make movies that are so good that everyone who watches them will want to change the world. Or else—”

  “Okay, okay.” I laugh. “You have a lot of good ideas. How about we decide later?”

  “All right. And thanks!” Lakshman looks really pleased with himself at my compliment. “So is anyone else helping you, or are you working all on your own?”

  “I was all on my own, but . . .” Lakshman’s question is like a switch turning on a light inside my head. “There is someone who could maybe help. She’s the head of my friend’s school.”

  “Everyone in my school is terrified of our headmistress. No one I know would ever ask a headmistress for help with anything.”

  “This one isn’t scary at all. She even lets my friend Rani sleep outdoors and have lessons under the trees.”

  “Lessons under trees?” Lakshman echoes. “I want to go to that school!”

  “Anyway, I could call her . . .”

  “Wait, want to go there instead? I want to see this school.” Lakshman’s eyes sparkle behind his glasses. “We can go tomorrow, just us two. It’ll be our first mission for justice.”

  “Okay, fine.” I’m glad I finally have a plan. And it’ll be fun to see Rani and Jay again. “Let’s do it.”

  66

  A School with a Tent

  At dawn, I leave a note on my bed for my grandparents and sneak out of the apartment while they’re still snoring away like a couple of elephants.

  Patti and Thatha,

  Please don’t worry. Lakshman and I have gone to visit Rani, and we’ll be back later today.

  As planned, Lakshman is waiting for me downstairs. He knows all about buses, and we buy tickets with the bit of leftover money from Earring Aunty. He chatters nonstop, and it feels like no time till we reach Viji Aunty’s Center for Children.

  The school is a walled compound as big as a jail, but with an inviting gate and a friendly watchman who waves us in as soon as I say I want to see Viji Aunty. Pretty creepers with pink and white flowers that Lakshman calls bougainvillea hang over the wall.

  Scattered on the grounds are clusters of small houses with sloped roofs. “I wonder where Rani is. Do you see a tent?”

  Just then, a familiar screech suddenly pierces my ears. “Ai! Ai! Ai!”

  “What’s that?” Lakshman looks startled.

  “Kabir!” Rani runs up behind us. “You never said you’d be visiting, Prince of Surprises!” She throws her arms around me, and Jay reaches out his beak and nips my ear excitedly.

  “I’ve missed you both.” I hug Rani back. “I brought you something. Look.” I give Rani the gift bag with the outfit from Patti.

  She takes it but turns her attention to Lakshman. “And who are you?”

  “I’m Lakshman, Kabir’s new friend. I came from Chennai too, you know. Kabir said you get to sleep in a tent and have lessons under trees. Can we see?”

  “I’ll show you both around. Come on. Oh, and this is Jay,” Rani tells him.

  “What a pretty bird,” Lakshman says.

  “Pretty, pretty, pretty bird,” Jay squawks, making us all chuckle.

  As we walk to Rani’s tent, other children wave and greet her. I’m not surprised she has a million friends here already.

  Rani’s tent is bright green and sits under the shade of a tamarind tree. A few other tents are spread out on the grass behind hers. She tells us they are made from thick pieces of canvas tied onto poles, and they are large and airy inside.

  Lakshman walks around Rani’s tent, examining it from every side, and the two of them chat happily about what it’s like to live in one. “This is the best tent I ever saw.” He sighs happily. “You’re so lucky!”

  Rani still has her slingshot and shoots some fruit down for us. “Luckily I don’t have to hunt crows for breakfast anymore,” she says to me.<
br />
  “Crows?” Lakshman looks curious. “How do they taste?”

  “Hope you never find out,” I mutter. “But squirrels taste worse.” I feel a bit left out by the way he’s chattering with Rani, but only a very little bit. It’s nice to see how well they get along.

  “I’m sure I’d do much better on my tests if I could learn outdoors,” Lakshman says as we stroll along, past a shady banyan tree, beneath which a teacher sits on a straw mat with a group of children surrounding her.

  “Indoors has some advantages, though,” Rani says. “I’m getting better about spending time indoors, Kabir, can you believe it? When the rains start, I’m thinking I might be more comfortable inside.”

  “What? You’ll be living under a roof?” I can’t believe my ears. “You must be really happy here, Rani.”

  “It’s nicer than I thought it could be,” Rani says. “Viji Aunty encourages independence. She wants to help me grow.” Rani sounds chirpier than I’ve ever heard before. “How are you doing, Kabir? Are your grandparents good? Where are they, anyway? Didn’t they come with you?”

  “No,” Lakshman says proudly. “We came on our own. We’re on a not-so-secret mission.”

  “My grandparents are really nice. But I can’t stop thinking about Amma.” I extend a hand, and Jay hops onto it. “They don’t have money to hire a lawyer, so I need to do something—that’s our mission. I thought maybe Viji Aunty could give me advice. Would that be all right?”

  As if on cue, Jay lets out a piercing “Right, right, riiight!”

  “Ai! Softer, Jay!” Rani grins. “Come on. Let’s go find Viji Aunty. She loves helping.”

  67

  Up and Down

  Viji Aunty seems very relieved to see me. “Your grandparents called to see if you’re okay, Kabir. Apparently you gave them quite a fright, running off on your own so early. Next time you visit, bring them with you, all right?”

  She calls them, and we have a quick chat. She makes Lakshman call his parents. And then, at last, I explain to Viji Aunty why I’m here and how I want to help Amma.

  Viji Aunty listens carefully and patiently, and when I’m done, she says, “My brother’s wife works for a law firm that helps people who can’t pay, Kabir. Her name is Tanvi. I’ll give her a call.”

  Viji Aunty is able to reach Tanvi Ma’am right away, and after chatting with her for a bit, she puts me on the line.

  After I fill her in, Tanvi Ma’am says in a voice as brisk as a jail guard’s, “Your mother has been in jail far too long. Even for aggravated theft, the punishment is seven years. I can’t promise, but I think this is a straightforward case. I’ll be happy to work on getting her released.”

  “So you can prove Amma is innocent?” My heart soars. At last, the truth will come out.

  “Hold on, Kabir. At this point we don’t need to prove anything. Your mother has already spent more time in jail than if she’d been convicted.”

  “But I want everyone to know she is innocent.”

  “I can’t prove what did or didn’t happen nearly a decade ago,” Tanvi Ma’am says. “I’m truly sorry. But the main thing is, you want her out as soon as possible, don’t you?”

  Of course I do. “Yes! Thank you,” I whisper, because though I don’t feel like shouting with joy anymore, I am grateful. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  My heart feels as if it’s a cricket ball, rising up one minute only to head straight to the ground a minute later.

  “What did she say?” Rani asks as soon as I hang up.

  When I explain that Tanvi Ma’am promised to help Amma leave jail because she has been there too long, both Rani and Lakshman cheer. Jay screeches, but Viji Aunty just beams at us all.

  But when I add that even Tanvi Ma’am can’t prove Amma is innocent, Lakshman bursts out, “That’s so unfair! When we grow up, we’ll prove she didn’t do anything wrong, okay?”

  His words make me smile.

  “Aunty, I—I—” I’m not sure how to tell Viji Aunty how grateful I feel.

  Viji Aunty waves away my thanks. “I once lived on the streets,” she says.

  “You did?” Lakshman clearly wants to hear more too, like me.

  Viji Aunty says, “Let’s save my story for another day.”

  We say our goodbyes, and Rani walks us to the gate. On the ride home, I focus only on the good news, and my heart feels lighter. Amma will be coming home soon.

  I don’t feel like I’m on a bus. I feel like I’m on a plane.

  68

  Routines

  Every afternoon, I walk to the market with Patti, and after I help her carry our groceries upstairs, Lakshman knocks on our apartment door and we run downstairs to play cricket. The boys downstairs aren’t all as nice as Lakshman, but they’re not all nasty Junaids either.

  From the upstairs window, Thatha watches us playing. When it gets too dark to see the ball properly and mosquitoes start munching on us, Patti’s voice floats down—“Time for dinner, Kabir!”—and I walk back up the stairs, following the delicious scent of her cooking.

  Best of all, once a week, Tanvi Ma’am calls to chat with me about my mother’s case. Each time we talk, she sounds more cheerful. One day, she tells me people are looking into the conditions at our jail. “The superintendent was fired,” she tells me, “and we will be working to free more women and to make sure life will be better for those who remain in jail.”

  Life in there couldn’t get much worse.

  I think of the skinny tree in the jail schoolyard and how much it must have struggled to grow without anyone taking care of it. I suppose Amma is struggling in her own way, scared to hope that I’ll actually be able to get her out of jail, because it’s hard enough just to get through each long jail day.

  In jail, every day had the same routine.

  After jail, with Rani, days were never the same, because nearly everything felt new.

  I felt scared a lot, though, which feels kind of like jail too. I’m learning to break out of the fear now, taking small steps each day.

  Patti and Thatha help, bringing me new things to see, hear, taste, touch, and smell every day, so I’m busy trying to match real things up with the pictures my head kept inside it or made up from books and TV.

  But we eat meals in the same room at the same time each day. And we pray the same way at the same times, waking to the sound of the call for prayer floating in from the nearby mosque. I’m not yet ready to visit the mosque, though Thatha keeps saying he wants to show off his grandson—but soon, I’m sure I’ll feel brave enough to meet his friends and our extended family and even my cousin Junaid again.

  For now, I’m enjoying learning new routines. At Patti and Thatha’s home, repetition feels comforting, like a song’s rhythm.

  69

  The Shape of the Sky

  Cricket comes easily to me, as if Appa handed his skill down to me somehow. One evening, I play the best shot a batsman can ever make. I whack the ball so hard it flies up over the boundary, and I score six runs with just that one shot.

  My teammates and I jump up and down.

  “Super!” a deep voice shouts. It’s Thatha, standing there watching us! He usually just peers down from an upstairs window.

  He looks happy—but he has never interrupted us before. “Thatha?”

  “Sorry, boys, but I need to steal my grandson from you now,” Thatha says. He smiles at me, but his tone is serious. “Kabir, come on home. I have something to tell you.”

  Upstairs, Patti joins us. We sit around the creaky table, and Thatha says, “Ready to pack your suitcase, Kabir? We’re going to Chennai tomorrow, and we’re going to bring your mother—our daughter-in-law—back home.”

  My heart starts racing around inside my chest, even though I’m just sitting on a chair, not running, not walking, not doing anything except smiling.

  Outside the window, clouds
puff out, changing shape. Every shape they take looks perfect, and the size of the sky outside the window feels perfect too.

  I don’t think I can feel any happier, but I do when I call Rani to give her the good news.

  “I knew you’d do it!” She whoops. “But I never thought it would happen so fast. This is a miracle!”

  “I didn’t do anything. Viji Aunty’s lawyer friend is the one who made this miracle happen.”

  “There’d be no lawyer if you hadn’t come here to find your father’s family,” she reminds me.

  “I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t found me,” I remind her.

  “Did you hear that, Jay?” I hear the smile in her voice. “We helped save Kabir’s mother. Are you proud?”

  Jay shrieks something I can’t make out, but he sounds just as happy as she does.

  70

  Back Behind Bars

  Tanvi Ma’am meets us the next day to take us back to jail. She’s pretty, with pointy glasses and a pointy chin and a black braid that reaches down to her waist.

  We get into Tanvi Ma’am’s car. It has smooth seats and music and air-conditioning—which is an amazing way to make the inside cool, though it’s hot outside. As Tanvi Ma’am’s driver speeds along the roads, my heart is singing, which I never knew it could do, repeating words like Jay does: They’re going to let Amma out, let Amma out, let Amma out!

  When we arrive outside the spiky gates, I realize I’m actually chanting the words out loud. A guard unlocks the gates to let the car drive in, and in the rearview mirror I see the guard lock the gates behind us again.

  Then I’m back inside.

  Uniformed men take my grandparents’ phones and even their keys, and we walk through something that Tanvi Ma’am says is an instrument made to detect metal. They pat us down too, looking for weapons. I don’t mind, because they’re almost polite, saying “good afternoon” and “sir” and “ma’am” to Thatha and Patti and Tanvi Ma’am, and even once jokingly saluting me.