The doctor waved over a taxi. She held the door open for me.
I stopped.
“Children get into taxis with strangers and no one ever sees them again,” I said. “I don’t want to disappear.”
“The hospital is some distance,” she said. “Your feet really are not good.”
“You ride,” I said, backing away. “Tell me where to meet you.”
She sent the taxi away.
Then she did something I never would have imagined anyone ever doing for me. Ever.
She took her dupatta off her shoulders. From her purse she took out a small pair of scissors and cut her scarf in half. She wrapped the halves around my feet. She tied the cloth tight so it wouldn’t fall off.
“If you can walk that far, so can I,” she said.
8
Beautiful Blood
IT WAS A BIT OF A WALK.
Dr. Indra did not try to hold onto me or make me walk where she could see me. I tried walking behind her and she just kept going. She didn’t even look back to see if I was following her. I could have run away any time.
I decided to walk beside her.
She talked to me about what it was like to be a doctor. She said she had to study very hard for a long time. She said she didn’t think she could ever learn everything she needed to know, but now it was all in her brain, ready for whenever she needed it.
“It’s what I’ve always wanted to do,” she said. “When I was young, all my friends would spend their spare time at the movies. I spent mine with my biology books and volunteering with a street clinic.”
“I’ve never been to the movies,” I said.
“I enjoy them now,” Dr. Indra told me. “Now that I am doing what I was meant to do, I can take time for things like movies.”
She didn’t offer to take me to the movies. That was another point in her favor. When I was living at the railway station, a man took a boy I borrowed with to the movies and I never saw him again.
I decided I would trust her enough to let her take me in a tuk-tuk, as long as I sat on the outside.
Dr. Indra waved her hand, and a tuk-tuk pulled out of traffic and came right over to the curb. She got in beside the driver and I squished in beside her, right against the outside railing. We sped off at first, but soon got caught up in the start-and-stop traffic.
I didn’t care. I was enjoying myself.
I had hitched rides on the backs of tuk-tuks before, crouched on the bumper with my face pressed against the dusty metal. Sitting in the front was much more fun.
We hit a patch without traffic and the tuk-tuk took off. I swayed into Dr. Indra as the driver swerved his three wheels to zip between a bus and a truck full of melons. Horns blared at us.
I stood up and started to hang off the side to make faces at the other drivers. Dr. Indra pulled me back in, but she did it in a nice way, so I didn’t mind.
We got stopped by some cows right in front of the sometimes friendly tea seller. I leaned over the doctor to yell at him and wave.
He didn’t notice me. He was too busy looking miserable because his older brother was back. His brother was counting up the little clay cups and comparing his total to something written on a piece of paper.
I watched the older brother put the paper in his shirt pocket, pick up a stack of the clay cups and wave them in the tea seller’s face. He lost his grip and the stack of cups started to teeter. Then, one by one, they fell to the sidewalk and smashed.
By the time the cows had crossed the road and our tuk-tuk was moving again, I was laughing so hard I couldn’t even see.
“I’m having a really good day!” I called out to the city.
Not long after that, Dr. Indra told the driver to pull over, and the tuk-tuk came to a stop. I was sorry the ride was over, but I was also curious to see what would come next. After all, I was hungry!
Dr. Indra held out her hand for me to take. It was an invitation, not an order. I could take it or leave it.
I decided to take it.
She held my hand loosely. I could easily slip away if I wanted.
We left the sunny, noisy street and walked into a large room that was open to the city at one end and cool and dark at the other. The thick cement walls kept out a lot of the city noise. I saw plants and trees through the windows. It felt like a calm place.
Rows of chairs held rows of people. Some were in business clothes and talking on cellphones. A teenaged boy was wearing jeans. He had plugs in his ears, and he was tapping his feet. A young woman was reading from a big thick book and making notes on a pad of paper. An old man in a long robe and a turban played finger games with the baby on his lap.
No one looked afraid.
The doctor took me past the rows of chairs and through a door into a little room that was also full of people on chairs. A man behind a desk looked up at Dr. Indra.
“Here on your day off?” he asked her. “You can’t stay away from us, can you?”
“I have a new friend,” the doctor said. “This is Valli.”
“Hello, Valli.”
He smiled at me. He seemed friendly, but I had learned that you couldn’t always trust smiles. Some smiles were lies. Some smiles were followed by hands grabbing at you and pulling you into an alley.
In a quieter voice, the doctor told him, “I need a quiet room for an examination right away. This is not a girl who will wait.”
The man looked through some papers.
“The shoemaker is away today,” he said. “Will his workshop do?”
“It will,” the doctor said. “Perfect.”
“And I’ll bet Valli would like something to eat,” he said. He smiled at me again. I didn’t smile back yet. After all, guessing I was hungry and actually giving me food were two different things.
We left the little room and headed up a flight of stairs. The doctor let me into a strange place filled with leather, tools and shoes. Some of the shoes were only half made.
“Can you wait here for a moment?” Dr. Indra asked. “I have to gather a few things, but they are close by and I’ll be right back.”
I was in a new and interesting place, so I didn’t mind having some time to look around. I was about to tell the doctor to leave the door open, but she did it anyway.
By the time she came back carrying a tray full of mysterious things, I had a shoe on each hand and was on my knees, pretending my hands were my feet.
“I can walk with my hands,” I laughed.
She laughed, too, and helped me put the shoes back on the shelf.
“Have you ever been looked at by a doctor before?”
“Mrs. Mukerjee looked at me,” I said. “The girls who work for her don’t get out of bed until eleven. She likes to sleep until noon.”
“And when was this?”
“The truck drivers took me there when I first got to Kolkata,” I said. “They wanted to trade me for something, but I don’t think she gave them anything because she threw me out. I got this kurta, though.” The colors were faded, and there were stains that wouldn’t come out. The cloth was torn and worn through in places, but it was nice and clean from being in the river.
“I’m going to listen to your heart beating,” Dr. Indra said.
She took a picture off the tray of a person sliced in half. One half was all bones. The other half was all flesh, like the inside of a chicken but prettier. She showed me where the heart was.
“I look like that under my skin?”
“We all do. This is called a stethoscope.” She put the ends of it in her ears. Then she put the round part on my chest. “Your heart is beating well. Would you like to hear?”
She put the stethoscope in my ears and I listened to the sound of my own heart beating. It was so amazing I almost ignored the plate of food that someone carried into the room. Almost.
“Wash your hands first,” Dr. Indra said as I reached for the plate.
“I just washed in the river.”
“Wash in the sink, too.” She placed
the food on a high shelf and led me to the sink in the corner of the room. She turned on the tap and handed me the soap.
I was amazed at how much dirt came off me. I thought my hands were clean.
I scrubbed until the doctor was satisfied. Then she handed me the food and I sat back down on the bench. There was channa dal to eat, and samosas and cauliflower curry. I had a few coins on me but probably not enough to pay for such a fancy meal. I decided to eat it all fast so they wouldn’t be able to take it away once they found out I couldn’t pay.
By the time she took some blood out of my arm, I was so happy to have a full belly that I didn’t care about the little bit of hurt when the needle went into my skin. I liked to see the glass tube fill up with my nice red blood.
“We’ll look at this through the microscope and see what there is to see,” she said.
“What’s a microscope?”
“It’s a special machine that lets us see things that are very, very small. I’ll let you have a look. I think you’ll like it. But first we need to bandage your feet.”
She spent a lot of time cleaning and putting cream on my feet and wrapping them up. Then she gave me a needle called a tetanus shot, which she said would keep me from getting sick.
“Your feet need a lot more attention but I don’t want to do more today than you are comfortable with,” she said. “I’m sure we can find you a pair of sandals somewhere. Let’s go and look at your blood.”
She took me into another room. This one had desks, cabinets and more things I had never seen before. A man sat at a high desk, peering into a strange machine.
“We have a young scientist here who would like to see through a microscope,” the doctor told him. “She promises to be very careful.” She handed him the tube of my blood.
“I’ll show you how to prepare a slide.” The man put a drop of my blood on a thin piece of glass and added a drop of something from another bottle. “This will stain it and make it easier to see,” he said.
He looked first. Then Dr. Indra looked. Then she showed me where to look and how to turn the dials on the machine until the picture became clear.
What I saw was so beautiful I had to back away.
“That came from me? It’s so beautiful.”
“Our bodies are made up of cells,” Dr. Indra said. “A cell is a wonderful thing, and one day, perhaps, I will tell you all about it.”
“Tell me now.”
“Another day. For now let me have another look at your beautiful blood.”
I took one more look myself. Then I slid off the stool and let the doctor take my place.
There were some chairs with armrests nearby. Nobody told me not to sit in them, so I sat.
The doctor looked through the microscope for a while. Then she sat down beside me and made a lot of notes on a piece of paper.
My clothes were still damp and I could smell the river on them. I remembered my coins and I made sure the knot holding them was tight. Although my stomach was full for today, I’d need to eat again the next day.
Finally the doctor stopped writing.
“Do you have somewhere to sleep tonight?” she asked.
“Of course.”
“Where?”
I waved my arms. “Kolkata.”
“Yes, but where in Kolkata?”
I shrugged. The night was a long time away. Why worry about it when the sun was still shining?
She changed the subject.
“The loss of feeling in your feet is caused by a bacteria in your blood. Another sign is the patch of skin on your arm that has no color. You have something called Hansen’s Disease. It is also called leprosy. The leprosy germ goes after your nerves and keeps them from working properly. You didn’t do anything wrong to get it. The disease is not a punishment. It’s just a germ you breathed in. Most people can breathe in the germ and not get the disease. You’re part of the five percent of the population that the germ will grow in. Do you understand?”
“Sure,” I said, but I wasn’t really listening. My stomach was full and the chair was comfortable.
“There is nothing to be afraid of,” she said. “This is a disease that has a cure. We can’t repair the damage to the nerves that’s already been done. But we can get rid of the bacteria and keep the damage from getting worse. We’ll start you right away on the pills, and that will be that. Now, the reason I was asking if you had a place to stay is that your feet need to heal. You have some bad ulcers that could use skin grafts to close them up. For that I’d like to keep you in the hospital here for a while. What do you think of that?”
I was sinking into the chair. My eyes kept closing.
She wants to know where you slept last night, I told myself.
There was a ladies’ garden not far from the hospital. I could go there and lie down in the cool green grass. The heat of the day was on. I was falling asleep.
Get up and go to the garden, I told myself. But the thought of rising from the comfort of the chair was too much. Plus, Dr. Indra was sitting very close to me. Her knees were pressed against mine. To leave, I’d have to climb over her.
Too hard, I thought. Too hard.
I couldn’t keep my eyes open. My chin dropped to my chest.
I felt the doctor lift me up in her arms. My head rested against her neck and I felt someone carrying me up some stairs. Her skin smelled of flowers. The soft whisper of her voice was kind.
She put me down some place soft.
By the time my head left her shoulder, I was asleep.
“Wake up. It’s time to eat.”
“Let her sleep.”
“If she keeps sleeping now, she’ll be up all night and then none of us will sleep.”
“New girl, wake up. The supper cart is on its way in.”
Voices reached me through my sound sleep.
I took my time waking up. I was sleeping on a soft mat in a place that smelled clean. I was very comfortable.
Then I smelled food, and I would rather eat than sleep. Any day.
I opened my eyes.
I screamed.
Monsters stared down at me. I was surrounded by women with scars and women without noses. A woman with no fingers on her hands was shaking me awake, touching me with those stumps.
I jumped off the bed and pushed my way through the women.
“You’re not going to get me!”
“She’s afraid,” I heard.
“Let her go,” someone else said. “She’s clearly trouble.”
“She’s a child!”
I broke through and ran out the door. I ran down the stairs, slamming into people who were on their way up.
“Valli, what’s wrong? What is it?”
Dr. Indra had me by the shoulders. I tried to squirm away, but her hands were strong.
“Talk to me.”
“This is a place for monsters! They’ll eat me! They’ll tear me apart!”
“This is a hospital for people who are recovering from illness. Nothing more.” Her voice was calm but stern.
“They’re all monsters up there!”
“Really, Valli? Do you really believe that?” the doctor asked. “You are a human being with a thinking brain. Do you really believe these people are monsters?”
There was too much going on. I was being spoken to in a way I didn’t recognize. I was afraid and at the same time I felt a little foolish.
Someone thought I could think. I didn’t know what that meant.
Yes, I did. And it frightened me more than the people with the missing fingers.
Dr. Indra let go of my shoulders. She was leaving it up to me.
After making such a fuss, I didn’t see how I could back down. Even though I wanted to.
So I looked straight ahead and walked quickly through the waiting room, out of the hospital and back into the street.
9
The Dead Man
“IS HE DEAD?”
Bharati’s wide eyes went from the man on the ticket seller’s counter t
o me.
“Yes,” I said. “Dead.”
She whimpered a little and took a half-step behind me.
In the weeks since I had run away from the hospital, all the niceness had drained out of me. I was like a kid I didn’t even know. I wanted to kick at street dogs, steal from blind beggars and rip things from walls.
And be mean to clingy little girls like Bharati.
I was back living at Sealdah Railway Station, where I had stayed off and on in the months I had been in Kolkata. Many children lived there. It had dark corners for sleeping, people to beg from and bits of food that got dropped to the floor by rushing travelers. The railway station was a good place to borrow. A lot of people moved through it, dropping things and leaving their bags open and their backs turned.
Bharati was little and new to the station. She wasn’t used to looking after herself.
When I first saw her, she was with her older brother, who brought her food he had worked for and told her to stay put so he would know where to find her.
But he had taken up with the boy-pack. Little sisters were not welcome there.
Her brother was about the same age as me.
I didn’t mind Bharati sticking with me sometimes. She was a polite little girl who believed everything I said. But I didn’t want her getting any ideas that she could stay with me forever.
“Who put him up there?” she asked, staring at the man. He was flat on his back on the ticket counter, covered head to toe with a blanket.
I had seen it all over and over. I had spent a lot of time at this train station.
“He put himself up there,” I said. “And he covered himself up like that, too.”
“Why did he do that?” Bharati asked.
“You’re full of questions,” I said.
“I want to know.”
“Because he knew he was going to die, so he climbed up there so his body wouldn’t get wet when the floor washers came.”
The floors got washed in the early hours of the day. Anybody who was not awake got soaked by the cold water. Morning in December in Kolkata was cold enough without that. I always made sure I woke up early.
“Why did he cover his face?”
No Ordinary Day Page 6
