by Tikiri
I’d stepped out of his office that day, feeling like everything was finally falling into place. I was no longer afraid of the future.
Late after midnight that night, when Grandma and Aunty Shilpa were sound asleep, Preeti gave me my wedding gift. It was a pair of beautiful beaded ankle bracelets she’d bought at the market. I couldn’t tell her my plans, so I’d just hugged her and cried. She’d tried to comfort me, saying it’s typical for girls to cry before they marry, but she hadn’t known these were not bridal tears. These were farewell tears. I was going to leave her and this country in a few hours.
I clicked the clasp of one of the bracelets around my ankle, then, choking back a sob, I got on one knee to clasp the second one around hers. She agreed after some protesting, only after I told her it would be our forever link. What she hadn’t known then was it would be my forever link to her, to India, wherever in the world I might be.
That anklet was now clinking with every step, and the man in the airport bookstore was getting annoyed. I picked up the book nearest to me, pretending to browse. Sunil Looks for a Good Indian Wife, the title said. How fitting. I sighed and put the book back. The man was still glaring. I gave him a courtesy nod. I now knew how to do a bobblehead nod like a true Indian, but his frown only deepened. I’d been lurking in the store for half an hour now. Maybe it’s best to wait at the gate. At least I wouldn’t look as suspicious.
At fifteen, I was just above the mandatory escort age of Air India. A year younger and I’d have had to get an adult to sign for my travel, and I’d have been escorted by an air steward throughout the trip. I was lucky.
I stepped out of the bookstore.
“Asha!”
I looked behind me to see Aunty Shilpa.
“Aunty!” I ran to her and threw my arms around her.
“I am so glad to find you,” she said, hugging me back.
“What are you doing here?” Part of me surged with happiness to see her, while another part of me felt slightly sick. Is my plan in jeopardy? But I held on to her tightly. I’d begun to feel lost in this big, busy airport, and it hurt I hadn’t said a proper goodbye to Preeti or her. It hurt more, knowing I might not see them for a full year. Remember why you’re doing this, I’d kept telling myself, whenever a lonely thought had crept into my mind.
“Did Franky tell you I was here?”
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” she said, pulling me away from the corridor and into a quieter corner. She looked like she’d been crying. “You have to come home with me.”
I looked at her in surprise. “But it’s my wedding day. And Franky said—”
“That man is lying. Don’t listen to him.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s cheating us, Asha. And he’s cheating your parents.” Aunty Shilpa pulled a sheaf of papers from the folds of her sari. “See? He’s doing this to take your parents’ money. He doesn’t care about us.”
“But…but he used the money to buy my ticket and visa, and to get me out of the wedding contract. You were there with me, remember?”
“Oh, yes, I remember that very well. He was really good, wasn’t he?”
“Aunty Shilpa—”
“Asha, please don’t argue. You need to come home with me now!”
“You’re starting to sound like Grandma. I’m doing this to help me, and help you too.” The words slipped out before I could catch them. I swallowed, a little late.
“Help me?” Aunty Shilpa said, drawing back. “I don’t need any help.”
Now I’d said it, I’d have to say it all. “Yes, Aunty. You need a doctor. Preeti told me all about it.”
Aunty Shilpa’s face looked crestfallen. “What did she say?”
“She said you were very sick.” I couldn’t get myself to say “dying.”
“Oh, my child, oh, my child….” She put a hand to her chest and started hyperventilating. “Oh, my Lord, oh, my Lord…”
“I can make enough money to help you, and Franky promised to find the right doctor for you. That’s why I’m going overseas. So please don’t worry, Aunty.”
“Listen to me,” Aunty Shilpa said, pointing a shaking finger at the papers. “Look at this. I showed this to my manager at the hotel, and he said Franky’s sending you overseas to—”
“Hey!” A sharp voice came from behind us.
We turned around to look.
Chapter Twenty-two
“What’re you doing here?” I asked Fartybag.
“What’re you doing here?” he snapped, glaring at Aunty Shilpa.
“Where’s Franky?” I asked.
“Appa can’t come. He has important things to do with some very important people,” Fartybag said, puffing his chest. “I’m his deputy, you know.”
He looked different today. His torn Rambo T-shirt and tatty pants were gone, and in their place were a brand-new pair of jeans and a blood red T-shirt with the words “The Boss” written across it. With his right hand, he swung a set of car keys. He had a swagger in his step, and was no longer shuffling, huffing, or puffing. He didn’t let out one pop, at least none I could smell or hear. He looked like someone had cleaned him up and made him into one of those prep boys who hung out at the local college downtown.
“What do you want with us?” Aunty Shilpa hissed.
“Appa warned me about you. I’m not here for you.” Fartybag sneered at her.
“Did you buy your new suit with Asha’s money?” Aunty Shilpa snapped right back. “Shame on you!”
“I have a good father who takes care of me. Not like you two who have nobody,” he said.
That stung. Aunty Shilpa looked away.
“That’s really mean,” I said, shaking my head. He’ll never learn, I thought.
“Here,” Fartybag said, thrusting a dirty white envelope in my hands. “Appa said to give this to you.”
I opened the envelope. Inside was my passport and a long white stub with an Air India logo. I pulled them out.
“Hey, this is not for—”
“Something came up at the last minute, and he said he had to make changes.”
“What changes?” I spluttered. “Why?”
Fartybag shrugged and turned to gawk at a couple of young women walking by.
I looked at the Air India ticket again.
“Let me see this,” Aunty Shilpa said, grabbing the paper from my hand. She peered at it. “What does this say, Asha? What does this say?” She held it up, desperately, to the light, but that didn’t help her read.
“Maybe lions won’t eat you after all,” Fartybag said, sounding genuinely disappointed.
“But I want to see my parents and Chanda and Mr. Mudenda and….” I trailed off, not sure what to say.
“He’s tricking us,” Aunty Shilpa said, fluttering the ticket in Fartybag’s face. “I don’t trust your father or you. You’re tricking us again!”
“You can believe your illiterate aunty or read the papers,” Fartybag said to me, ignoring her. “Appa said he’s sending you to a place where you can make real money. Real dollars. It’s right there in the new contract.”
“New contract?” I pulled everything from the envelope. A legal-sized paper stated my new destination. It came with an official red seal at the bottom, next to a signature in purple ink that looked exactly like Franky’s. I stared at it.
“He said you can make more money there. Then maybe you can visit your precious Africa after that. You should say thank you to us. Most people don’t fly. They go in a dirty boat with no food. Don’t know why Appa’s doing all this for you, because you’re just a stupid girl.”
“That’s because you want to steal all her money!” Aunty Shilpa shouted at him. “You’re thieves!”
“Shut up, you cow,” Fartybag muttered.
“Hey!” I glared at him. “Don’t you dare talk to her like that!” He looked away, like he still remembered the punch I’d given his delicate nose, not too long ago.
With shaking hands, I opened my p
assport. There was a brand-new visa glued to a page at the end. I looked at it closely. The paper shimmered, a shiny red sticker that looked like a leaf with the word “visa.” I turned the booklet to see it in better light. Franky was sending me to a faraway place I’d heard of before, but had never dreamed of visiting.
Aunty Shilpa tugged at my sleeve. “Come, Asha. Leave this nonsense behind. This was a terrible mistake. We need to talk to Franky and get your money back.”
Fartybag stepped in between Aunty Shilpa and me.
“Appa said if you don’t get on the plane, Kristadasa will find you and thrash you to a pulp.”
Visions of Kristadasa’s looming feni-soaked face came to mind. I shook my head. No! I’m not going back to that. I can’t turn around now.
“And you’ll lose all your money.” Fartybag pointed at the papers in my hand. “It’s in the contract.”
“So now you’re worried we’ll lose money,” Aunty Shilpa said, her face flushed.
“Are you going to stand there like an idiot or are you going to go?” Fartybag said to me. “Your plane’s leaving soon. If you don’t go, Kristadasa will come and get you, your aunty, Preeti, and Grandma and burn your house down.”
I stared at him. “Where’s your father?”
“Appa said he can’t help you if you don’t go. He told me he wants you to do your job so he can do his job.” He gave me a pointed look. “You can either go or stay and lose everything, including helping your aunty.”
“Don’t you dare do this!” Aunty Shilpa said, shaking her finger at him, her voice filled with rage. “Don’t you dare!” She turned to me. “Don’t listen to this boy!”
“You can’t even read the ticket,” Fartybag said to her with a sneer.
I looked up at the airport TV screen in the corridor. It was noon. It was close to the “auspicious” hour—the time the gods had decided was best for the wedding, at least according to the marriage broker. Visions of Kristadasa waiting for me flashed across my mind. I shuddered. I had to think quickly.
I turned to Aunty Shilpa. “I can’t help you if I stay here and get married to that drunkard. I can’t do that, Aunty Shilpa. But if I can make money, I can help you. I can find a way to help all of us. I promise. I can’t go back now.”
She looked like she was about to burst into tears. “You can’t go, my child. You can’t trust these people. You can’t go.”
“You’re late,” Fartybag said, poking my arm. “Look, they’re calling your flight. You better hurry or you’ll miss it.”
I gave Aunty Shilpa a desperate look. She let out a wail. “This is my mistake! How could I let this happen?”
“Aunty,” I said, showing her the legal paper. “Look. This comes with a red seal. I’ve seen this before. Mama and Papa used this to make their job contracts official. This means we can trust these papers. Even if we can’t trust Franky, we can trust a contract. I know this.”
“Oh, my child…oh, my child.”
“It’s going to be okay, Aunty. I’ll be back sooner than you realize. I’ll write to you and send you money. Everything will be all right. I promise.”
I reached over and gave her a hug, squeezing her as tightly as I could, while she stood stiff like a zombie, tears streaming down her face. “I’m doing this for all of us, Aunty. I want you to get better.”
“They’re calling your plane number now,” I heard Fartybag say. “You’re really late.”
I tore myself from Aunty Shilpa and picked up my bag. Without looking back, I walked toward the check-in counter with my head down. I knew Aunty Shilpa was just a few steps behind, watching. I knew she was devastated. But I couldn’t sit back and do nothing while she faded to death. And getting married to anyone, let alone that evil man, was unimaginable. My heart ripped a little with every step I took, but I kept walking.
Just before turning the corner, I glanced back. Seeing Aunty Shilpa’s face made my heart feel like it was rupturing into a thousand pieces. It seemed like I was always leaving someone behind—my parents in Tanzania, and now Aunty Shilpa and Preeti in India. It’s only for a year, I said to myself. Only one year.
I blew her a kiss. She stood like a heartbroken statue in the middle of the corridor, people bustling around her. She was crying, I could see. I choked back a sob. If I don’t leave now, I’ll never leave. I gave a final wave and turned around.
I stepped up to the flight desk. My worn Indian passport with stamps and visas from all over meant I’d traveled before. My shiny new visa impressed them. They glanced at it quickly before handing it back to me. I sailed through the security check. I’d just picked up my bag when the PA system crackled to life.
“This is a final boarding announcement for Air India Flight Three-Six-Seven to Toronto. All passengers must now be at gate seventy two for departure.”
That was my call.
Part FIVE
A journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step.
Lao Tzu
Chapter Twenty-three
I stumbled across the tarmac in a daze.
Instead of going east to Africa where my parents lay buried, I was heading north. It was like being in a surreal film, like one of those Swedish science fiction movies my father loved to watch.
I found my seat at the very back of the plane, settled in, and opened the white envelope Fartybag had given me. I was about to tuck my passport and boarding pass inside when I noticed something else. A reedy-thin beige paper stuck to one side of the envelope. I pulled it out and carefully unfolded it on my tray. It was a letter in crooked, almost illegible handwriting, like it was written by a market scribe in Goa. I squinted to read.
Dear Miss Asha, it began.
With you gone, your grandmother will no longer be bound by the contract to the marriage broker. You are saving your entire family and especially, of course, your own dear Aunty. You are a true loyal daughter, one that your parents would have been proud of. Very much.
I stopped. Something had caught in my throat. I swallowed, took a deep breath, and continued reading.
I want you to know that it took me a very long time to find the perfect family for you. This was not an easy task and it was fraught with many problems. In the end, my lead in Tanzania did not turn out. I am utterly apologetic about that.
However, I have very good news. I took all the effort to convince Mrs. Rao in Canada to take you in for a year. She wanted the best girl in India, and I said I could surely help her in that regard. Now that she said yes to taking you, you will need to show her that you are the absolute right person for the job. This means you must prove you are a very diligent child. There will be House Rules to follow. If you break any of these Rules or if she thinks at any time that you are not the right person for the job, she will send you back.
Alas, if you return before the contract is up by the end of the year, we will no longer be able to hold off the marriage contract between you and Mr. Kristadasa. I trust that you will use the high intelligence that your esteemed parents have bequeathed you and understand the right thing to do. In any case, you must not violate the arrangement. And I know you will be a good girl.
By the end of the year, I will send you a one-way ticket for you to come back and reunite with your family. Now doesn’t that sound good?
I must warn you about one thing. Kristadasa will not be happy about the breakup of his wedding and will try his best to take revenge. Be careful of anyone asking questions. Do not speak with anyone, including the police or anyone who comes knocking on your door. Kristadasa and his men will try all kinds of trickery. Don’t talk to any strangers. You must tell anyone who asks that you are none other than Mrs. Rao’s lovely niece, an orphan, and that you are adopted by her.
Mrs. Rao is very frail, well into her age. She will be your sponsor, your family. A more wonderful woman you will never meet. She will be like a kind old aunty to you. She is, however, quite feeble, and will need all the help she can get around the house. With your abundant skills and talents, s
he will surely appreciate having you in her home and treat you very well, that I can assure you.
She will pay a weekly wage, which she will send directly here to Goa. I will use 40% of it to pay back the marriage broker, 40% to find that good doctor for your dear Aunty Shilpa, and put the remaining in a bank account for you in Goa so you can do whatever you want to do with it when you get back. I know for a fact that they all will appreciate your sacrifice very much, and that is all that I have to say.
God bless.
I turned the page, but all the other side had were ink blotches that had seeped through. The letter had no heading or signature, but the purple ink was unmistakable. It was the same ink Aunty Shilpa had dipped her thumb in to sign the bank account transfer documents.
I leaned back in my seat and wondered if I’d done the right thing. Fartybag’s presence at the airport troubled me. But I’d had no choice. Or had I? I was helping Aunty Shilpa get better and was getting myself out of a horrifying future, a nightmare I didn’t even want to begin to imagine. Aunty Shilpa’s sweet face flashed to mind. Tears welled in my eyes. The plane hadn’t taken off yet and I’d already begun to miss her and Preeti, and even Grandma. I turned toward the window and cried silently, thankful no one was sitting next to me.
It took a long time to dry my eyes and sit up in my seat. Outside the window, wistful cotton clouds swam about, worry free. I watched them mindlessly, wishing I could be like them, wondering what awaited me on the other side of the ocean. I felt a stab of fear go through my heart. It was the fear of the unknown. The doubts of my decision. I took a deep breath. I could twist myself into a sniveling pretzel or I could prepare myself for my future. I took a few more deep breaths and tried to remember everything I knew about my soon-to-be new home.
The only Canadian I’d known in my entire life was Ms. Stacy from the International School of Dar es Salaam. She was friendly but didn’t talk much about her country—too busy asking everyone else about East Africa. Her host continent fascinated her.
