by Farhana Zia
Lali and I hurried toward our huts to get our sparklers.
Chapter 30
O i!” Ramu called to me. “Where’s the fire, little one?” He and Rukmani were holding hands under the mango tree.
“Hiding in my sparklers,” I yelled. “And we’re going for them right now!”
I wanted to stay and tease him. Aha! Holding hands in broad daylight, hanh? But Paki and Raju were already in the field, and the acrid smell of sulphur was heavy in the air.
“Don’t you want to stop and look at what I have?” Rukmani called.
Lali and I exchanged knowing looks. I knew we were thinking the same thing: Oh ho … Miss Nimblefingers!
“Come here, and I’ll tell you about my sparkler,” said Rukmani.
It was the sweetness in her voice that made us stop. Rukmani sounded so unlike her usual rude self.
“Well, tell us!” I said. “Juldi, juldi! Quickly, quickly!”
Rukmani pointed her chin at Ramu. “He bought these nice sparklers for me,” she said, batting her eyes at him. What happened to the spitfire? Where was the acid tongue? Where did the snarls go?
Ramu grinned from ear to ear; he looked like Kalu begging for a bone. That dear man, he positively glowed. Rukmani and Ramu … why, the sound of their names together was not so bad, after all!
“There’s something else.” Ramu spoke so quietly we almost didn’t hear.
“Yes, Ramu?” I tapped my foot on the ground. Tick, tick, tick, time was passing and the goonda boys’ firecrackers were getting louder by the minute.
“She took them back,” Ramu said softly.
“What did she take back, hanh?”
“The black beads. And the chickens,” he said. “She took them back to her memsaab’s yard where they belong.”
Rukmani stood by his side, tracing arcs in the dirt with her big toe.
Oo Ma! It looked like there might be a real wedding in the busti before the next mango harvest. Shabaash, Ramu! Well done! I’d thread a nice motia garland for his darling’s glossy black hair. I would!
“There you are.” Amma smiled at me. “Look who just got here.”
Bala sat on his haunches, eating laddu near Amma’s stove. He hadn’t forgotten the Divali laddu after all, and he had likely not forgotten the sparklers Amma had promised him either.
I went to my treasure box and picked out two for him. “These are for you and I expect to get back sevenfold!” I said.
Bala’s licked yellow crumbs from the side of his mouth and wiped his hands down his sides. “What’s she talking about, Yella Mausi?” he asked my mother.
“She’s already got it back, and more,” Amma said. “She just doesn’t know it yet.”
“I have? I don’t see seven times two sparklers in my box. I see only eight, which is ten minus the two I just gave away.”
“Silly child!” chided Amma gently. “I’m talking about dear Bala’s present and future success. Isn’t that worth more?”
“My next Wonder Dog Show is coming along,” Bala said, “but there are some problems.”
“Do not worry. I’ll come by after Divali and we can talk about it,” I told him.
Amma smiled at us. “What will you do with all the coins you will earn, dear boy?” she asked him.
“I will add them to the cash prize from the good Milk Man. I will buy boxes of black and brown boot polish and set up a stand near Lalla-ji’s store and yell, Boot Paalish! Boot Paalish!”
“Shabaash! Bravo!”
“And with the money from that I’ll buy chickens and with the eggs—”
“One step at a time, dear boy,” Amma said. “One small step at a time.”
With a wave of his hand, Bala jumped up like a gilli hit by a danda stick. He sped away, whooping and leaping in the fading light.
“Wait! What about my commission?” I yelled, but he was already gone.
“What commission?” my mother asked.
“From the dog show,” I replied. “We earned it; Lali and I helped from start to finish!”
“You mean the twenty rupees and twenty-five paisa he brought for you today?”
“He did? Where is it?” I held out my palm.
“I gave it back to him,” my mother said matter-of-factly. “He needs it more than you do.”
I couldn’t believe Amma had returned our money without asking. “I worked hard for it, Amma,” I cried. “I truly did!”
“You earned far more than that, daughter,” Bapu said. “You’ve earned his lasting friendship.”
“You d-don’t understand,” I stammered. “Half of it belongs to Lali.”
At the mention of Lali, Amma’s voice softened. “Lali had a share in this? You keep many secrets from me, daughter.”
“I am sorry for so much, Amma. I truly am. Please, let me have my commission and … and … I’ll give it all to Lali! I will!”
“Let Bala have his money, child,” Amma said. Then she untied the money knot in her pullo and counted out eleven rupee notes, one by one. “Give this to Lali.”
“What about my share?” I asked.
“You shall have yours too, by and by,” Amma said. Then she folded me in her arms. “But I will tell you this, daughter: next time come to me first, before you take so much upon yourself.”
“I will, Amma,” I cried. “God promise!” I pinched my throat so hard it bruised my skin.
Then I rummaged in my treasure box for my stash of sparklers. “I’ll go to Bala tomorrow, Amma, to help him plan his boot paalish business,” I said as I ducked out the doorway of my hut. “I am in a big hurry to go to the field just now. You see, Paki and Raju have started without us. Rascals!”
I ran for Lali and found Vimla Mausi working a grindstone near her hut. Zum-zup, zum-zup, sang stone on stone.
“Basanta!” she cried, raining down a shower of wheat grain from her fist. “We will eat roti cooked in pure ghee tonight!”
Payday had arrived in time for the Festival of Lights, and the worry lines had been swept away from Mausi’s brow at last.
“Mmm. Amma’s always making piping hot roti for Little Bibi’s breakfast! It’s so flaky and buttery it makes me drool!” I licked my lips. “It’ll be a proper Divali feast in your home too, nai?”
Mausi beamed. “Hanh, dear child. It surely will.”
“Where’s Lali?” I asked. Except for Mausi and the grinding stone, the hut was silent.
“She’s just run off to the field with the little ones,” Vimla Mausi replied. Glass bangles tinkled on her wrist and the pocked stone spun merrily round and round and round.
Oo! That Lali! She didn’t even wait for me!
Boom! Crack! Bang!
Rat-tat-tat!
Whizzzzz!
The fiery showers, the exploding firecrackers, and the happy squeals of my friends beckoned from the field. I held my sparklers tightly in one hand, hitched up my lengha above my ankles with the other, and I ran to them.
Glossary
Child of Spring is set in the state of Hyderabad in India. Today it is the joint capital of Andhra State and Telangana. Prior to 1948, Hyderabad was the largest princely state in India, and Urdu was the official language. Then it was forcibly annexed into the Indian federation, and in 1956, it became part of the state of Andhra Pradesh. Telugu is the official language of Andhra Pradesh. Other languages spoken in the region include Hindi, Tamil, Kannada, and Odia.
Most of the foreign words and phrases in this story are in Hindi, with one exception, noted below.
aa: a beckoning call, to signal someone to come
accha: “Okay”
accha baba: “All right”
accha-ji: “Yes sir/madam” (said with respect)
aiyyo: “Oh dear!” or “Oh no!” (Tamil, usually used by females)
almarah: wardrobe
amma: mother
Angrezi: English
anna: Indian currency, equal to 1/16 rupee
arrey baba: “Oh, man!”
arrey d
aiyya: “Oh dear!”; “Dear me!”; or “Oh my!” (usually used by females)
arrey wah: “Oh wow!”
arri: “Hey you” (when addressing a female.)
baap re: “Oh my gosh!”
baba: literally means father, though a small child may also be called baba. At times, baba is inserted in conversation without any real meaning, as in arrey baba (“Oh, man!”) or na baba (“No way!”)
badmaash: naughty
bapu: father
bas: “Enough of that!”
beedi: a type of cigarette made with unprocessed tobacco rolled in a leaf
bhangra: a traditional folk dance originating in the Punjab region
bindi: a red dot on the center of the forehead, commonly worn by Hindu women
Bo Kata: loosely translated, it means ‘Hacked!” Used as a victory cry during kite fights.
busti: a small community of huts
chappati: unleavened flatbread, also known as roti
charpai: a traditional bed, consisting of a set of woven ropes within a wooden frame. The user lies directly on the ropes without a mattress.
chi: “For shame!”
choli: a short, blouse that reveals the midriff; the upper garment for a sari
chullah: a stove used to cook food over a fire
chup: “Be quiet!”
churan: a sweet and sour digestive powder
dhal: a thick or runny stew prepared from lentils. A staple in South Asian cuisine.
daiyya: god
daiyaa re daiyya: “Oh god!”
Divali: the Festival of Lights, a Hindu festival celebrated in India during October or November
diyya: a small, oil burning lamp
dhoti: a loincloth worn by men
ghee: clarified butter
gilli danda: an amateur sport, using two small pieces of wood, played in rural areas through the Indian subcontinent. It is believed to be the origin of games like cricket, baseball, and softball.
goonda: stupid person
hanh: yes
hutt: “Out of the way!”
hulla goolla: hullaballoo
Inglistan: England
ji: an honorific suffix intended to convey respect to the individual to whose name it is appended
juldi: “Hurry!”
katori: a small bowl
kurta: a loose shirt, falling to just above or below the knee, worn by men and women
laddu: a ball-shaped sweet, popular in the Indian Subcontinent, made of flour, minced dough, sugar, and other ingredients
lengha: a long, embroidered, and pleated skirt that is worn with a choli as a style of sari
maharani: empress
manja: thread, coated with powdered glass, used in kite fights
mausi: aunty (mother’s sister). In India and Pakistan, non-blood relatives are routinely addressed as aunt, uncle, grandfather, grandmother, etc.
memsaab: a title used for a woman of authority
na: “No”
na baba: “No way”
nai: Yes?
oi: “hey you!”
oo maa: “Oh dear!” or “Oh my!” (usually used by females)
paisa: Indian currency. 100 paisa=1 rupee.
pullo: the long trailing part of a sari, worn draped around or across the shoulders
Ram Ram: a respectful greeting in North India, in which the name of the Hindu deity Ram is repeated two times, often with folded palms
rangoli: folk art created on the floor using colored rice, dry flour, or colored sand; it is usually made during Divali rani: queen
roti: Indian flat bread
rupee: Indian currency. 100 paise=1 rupee
sadhu: a religious ascetic or holy person
sari: a garment draped around the body, traditionallyworn by women
sahib: a polite title for a man
ser: a unit of mass measure equivalent to approximately 2.5 pounds
shabaash: “Bravo!”
shor: noise
tamasha: a spectacle
thaana: police station
thali: a sectioned platter that holds a variety of dishes
theek thack: shipshape
ub: now
wallah: a person associated with a specific business or type of work
