Nothing at all for Hyena man.
RAVI
“I won’t be here tomorrow for Bangla class, Mrs. Gupta.”
Tomorrow is Thursday. The day he’s been waiting for his entire life, even though he didn’t realize it until a few months ago.
Mrs. Gupta tips her head to the side. “Teek ach-che.”
“We won’t be here, either,” Gracie adds quickly.
“We won’t?” Kat asks.
“No … I’m exhausted,” Gracie says. “I could use a morning to sleep in. Jet lag’s no joke.”
“Well, then, I shall see you all again on shombar dheen. Monday.”
After Mrs. Gupta exits, the three of them find a table in a corner of the common room. Today Gopal offers flat circles of wheat that he calls chapati, along with eggplant, potatoes, and more lentils.
Ravi’s ravenous. Must be all that working out with Shen. Every muscle is crying for fuel. Food’s been decent here, thank goodness. A little spicy, maybe, but tasty. And weirdly familiar.
“How were the babies last night?” he asks, spooning more eggplant onto his plate.
“My girl eats enough for three babies,” Kat says, sounding proud.
“Mine sips his formula like a hummingbird,” Gracie says. “But I’ll fatten him up, don’t worry.”
Ravi glances at Kat. Should he ask why she got so upset at dinner? Maybe that would be too intrusive. Besides, she’s with Gracie. It doesn’t get better than that when you need to talk to someone.
“I think I’ve made a new friend,” he says. “Bontu, the guy who’s ‘working out’ with me.” Ravi puts “working out” in air quotes. “He’s Shen’s nephew. Doesn’t really want to be there, but his father’s making him.”
“Do you want to be there?” Gracie asks.
“Yeah,” Kat adds, “why is that bossy man making you train, anyway?”
“Arjun’s not bossy, Kat. He just wants me to change Shen’s mind about Americans.”
“So you have to prove to this other hater that all of us aren’t crap?” Kat asks.
“Basically. Not sure Shen’s a hater, though. He acts tough, but I think he’s one of the good guys.” Like Arjun, he thinks, but doesn’t risk saying it.
“What’s your schedule going to look like?” Gracie asks, reaching for another chapati. “Ours is Bangla, babies, and then more babies—five afternoons plus three nights. Every week.”
“Intense. I’ll do an hour or so of data entry here after lunch—which looks like it might actually be interesting—and then head to the training center Mondays through Thursdays.”
“How long is one session?” Gracie asks.
“Two hours. Sure glad Bontu’s there or I might not survive this ‘act of service.’ Wait till you see that kid—he looks kind of like a giant toddler.”
Kat tears a strip of chapati and wraps it around a piece of potato. “Maybe he’s a mutant, like me,” she says. “Miss Shireen’s tailor’s delivering my jumbo-sized uniforms this afternoon.” She pops the savory bite into her mouth.
“The Asha House girls think you’re a goddess, Kat,” Gracie says. “Just wait until they see you in a shalwar kameez.”
“Is yours going to be yellow, too, Kat?” Ravi asks, fingering the soft material of Gracie’s sleeve.
Kat chugs some water; she must have accidentally included a piece of chili pepper along with the potato. “My Asha House uniform will be. But Miss Shireen’s turning me into a human rainbow. She ordered four other shalwars for me—lavender, aqua, lime green, and pink. I haven’t worn pink since I was seven.”
Kat in a pink shalwar kameez? Ravi will have to see it to believe it. Maybe wearing colors is her “act of service.”
KAT
“So … tomorrow’s your big day, Ro—Ravi,” Gracie says.
“Yep,” he says. “My appointment’s at ten.”
Gracie catches Kat’s eye.
“You want company?” Kat asks.
“No, thanks,” he says.
“Maybe PG should go with you, Ravi,” Gracie tells him.
“Or Gracie, by herself,” Kat adds quickly. “I can handle both babies on my own for one afternoon.” Has the lack of sleep made me lose brain cells?
“I’ll be fine,” Ravi says.
“Wish we had our phones,” Gracie says. “Then you could text us if you need anything. Are you sure one of us can’t go with you?”
Ravi swivels his head in a figure eight, as if he’s been saying no-yes like that for years. “Don’t worry about me. You guys take care of those babies. Pass the lentils, will you, Kat?”
Kat hands him the bowl. Obviously, Kal-El doesn’t want to discuss his search for planet Krypton. She can’t help feeling worried. What’s he going to find? Something that might hurt him? Or nothing at all, which might devastate him even more?
RAVI
INT./EXT. KOLKATA POLICE TRAINING CENTER—DAY
Ravi hails an auto-rickshaw by scraping the air with his palm down. Take that, Shen, he thinks. Only a few days in Kolkata and he’s already gesturing like a Bengali. Three auto-rickshaws stop for him and he jumps into the nearest one.
“Police training center, please,” he tells the driver.
The man looks closer at Ravi’s face. “Mr. Amit Biswas? Why no lee-mo gari?”
A limo. Right. That’s what Bollywood stars cruise around in.
“No. Sorry. I’m not him.”
Heavy drops are falling again, steamy monsoon rain that comes and goes, drenching the makeshift shelters on sidewalks where children are resting beside their mothers. It’s nap-after-lunchtime everywhere in the city. Everywhere except in the police training center, where Ravi’s out-of-shape body is about to generate a personal monsoon of sweat.
Just as the auto-rickshaw pulls up to his destination, Ravi sees Shen dismounting from an über-cool KTM motorcycle. He’s wearing reflective sunglasses and a black leather jacket over his uniform. How does it feel to maneuver a KTM through this busy Kolkata traffic? Must be like playing a driving game in five dimensions.
As Ravi pays the driver and walks up the stairs, he indulges in a mini-fantasy. Shen loans him the bike. Ravi’s wearing silver aviators and his biceps are bulging. He stops the KTM in front of the office and a beautiful girl in a yellow shalwar kameez with long black hair runs out. She jumps on behind Ravi and wraps her arms around him, her embrace so familiar … Wait! What was going on inside his muddled brain? Everything about that fantasy was off, especially the bulging biceps part.
He’s brought tennis shoes and fresh undies along this time. He changes into the shorts and T-shirt in the locker room slowly because he’s so sore.
When he walks into the gym, Bontu’s face splits into a watermelon smile. “Ravi! I ate six chapatis and a big bowl of lentils for lunch, so my tummy may be troublesome. Apologies in advance.”
Shen nods in Ravi’s direction. “Start with laps.” He blows the whistle twice.
Ravi takes off, stiff legs shrieking in pain. Bontu, too, starts jogging around the edge of the gym. Ravi manages nine laps this time and Bontu pants alongside for three before collapsing, cheering Ravi on from a floor mat.
The whistle blows once. Ravi stops, trying to catch his breath. His shirt is so drenched he could probably water a garden by wringing it out. And kill everything growing in it, judging by his stench.
BEEP! “Push-ups,” Shen barks.
Ravi does six today instead of five. He strains to lift barbells with both arms that Shen can lift easily with one. Next come the dreaded crunches. Bontu’s upwind of Ravi and foul post-lentil smells do start coming his way, just as predicted. Bontu fans the air around his bottom and grins at Ravi through his legs.
Two hours of sweating later, the last whistle of the day—three short beeps in quick succession—dismisses them to the locker room. Bontu trots off to shower, but Ravi needs to tell Mr. Badass that he’s not showing up the next day.
“I won’t be here tomorrow, sir.”
“Quitting
already? I’m not surprised. Americans can’t survive training in our Kolkata heat.”
“I’m not quitting, sir. I have an appointment. But I’ll be back on Monday.”
“Ehh,” Shen grunts. “We’ll see.”
That syllable of disgust grates on Ravi’s nerves. Even though it means he’ll lose quarts—or liters—of sweat over the next nine weeks, he isn’t going to quit.
KAT
INT. ASHA HOUSE—DAY
Kat mixes her baby’s third bottle of the afternoon. At this rate, Baby Diana might grow up to be as big as her Kat Auntie. She’s eating twice as fast as Logan. Kat puts her in a vertical position for another Wonder Woman burp.
“Come on, little Logan, drink, drink, drink,” Gracie says. “You need to grow. Sure hope Ravi’s going to be okay tomorrow.”
“He’s tougher than he looks,” Kat says.
“Logan or Ravi?”
“Both.”
“That’s why I canceled our Bangla class,” Gracie says. “I thought we could kind of lurk around outside the orphanage and keep an eye out for him.”
Not a bad idea. “Do you want to go by yourself?”
“This isn’t about us, Ravi and me,” Gracie says. “This is about him. My gut tells me he might appreciate both of us being there.”
“Okay, then. I’m in.”
Miss Shireen comes in holding a folded stack of yellow, lavender, aqua, pink, and lime-green fabric. “Katina, here are your shalwars. Take the yellow one and put it on, please. I’ll hold the baby.”
As soon as Diana leaves Kat’s arms, she starts to cry. “She likes her head a little higher,” Kat tells Miss Shireen.
“Kat’s a baby whisperer now,” Gracie says.
Miss Shireen smiles and shifts the baby’s head a little higher.
Kat takes the yellow shalwar kameez into the bathroom and changes out of her black jeans and shirt. This time the outfit fits. She walks to the mirror, bracing herself for the sight. But it’s not bad. Loose and flowy, not restrictive and clingy. But so dang yellow. Instead of the long yellow orna, she decides to keep wearing Grandma Vee’s chiffon scarf. Red and yellow, kill a fellow, the herpetologist told her when she was visiting the snakes. Yellow on black, venom lack.
When Kat emerges, it’s time for tea and biscuits, and the girls are returning from their afternoon activities. It’s their favorite part of the day, when they gather in the common room to relax and chat. They surround Kat immediately, oohing and aahing over her in the XXL version of their uniforms.
Kat looks around at them, taking stock of their bodies, assessing their BJJ potential. Some are so small, they might not even make the minimum weight required to grapple in any category. Amrita might be a good candidate, but her baby’s only three months old. How long after childbirth can a body begin to fight?
She catches sight of Kavita sitting wearily on the sofa. Carrying two cups of tea, Kat goes over to sit beside her.
“You look so Indian in that shalwar, Katina Didi,” Kavita says, taking one of the cups.
“Thanks,” Kat says, then hesitates. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m a bit frightened about the future, to tell you the truth. I’m not at all certain I’ll be able to protect this baby. Not when I wasn’t able to protect myself.”
My point exactly, Kat thinks, a bit surprised by the honest answer. She doesn’t say anything out loud, though. Lost her cool the night before at the Bose flat, but she has to stay in control now. Plan B depends on Miss Shireen trusting her.
“I only hope it doesn’t turn out to be a girl. Life can be so much harder for a girl.” Kavita’s hand curves around her belly. “Some people find out and choose to stop the baby when they learn it’s a girl. But I did not want that.”
No questions, Kat tells herself sternly. But she can share about her life, can’t she? “My mother was sixteen, one year older than you, when she became pregnant. She chose to have me, too. And raised me by herself, with no relatives to help.”
“A strong woman,” Kavita says. “Like her daughter.”
“She’s always taken good care of me.”
“That is my wish, too, Katina Didi. To protect and provide for my child. That is why I am working hard at sewing and studying in school.”
“You can do it, Kavita. I know you can.”
Gracie and Miss Shireen come out of the baby room, holding Diana and Logan.
“Does it fit?” Miss Shireen asks. “We’ve been waiting.”
Oops, Kat thinks. Forgot about modeling for them. “What do you think?” She jumps up and puts her hands into a namaste—she’s starting to like this no-touch greeting—and swishes her hips so the yellow fabric swirls around her body. “I’m Bollywood ready, Miss Shireen.”
One of the girls hoots and another whistles, making everyone laugh.
“Wow, Kat,” Gracie says. “You look stunning.”
“Fits perfectly,” Miss Shireen adds. “I’ll give the tailor your thanks.”
“Definitely,” Kat says. Time to plant a seed. “Can your girls play sports in these shalwar thingies?”
Miss Shireen hands her baby Diana and looks around the room. “Thomra kee khaa-lah khel-the pah-row, jokh-ohn shal-war poh-row?”
“Badminton!”
“Football!”
Football?!
“Soccer, you call it in America,” Miss Shireen explains.
“What about fighting?” Kat asks. “Wrestling? Boxing? Judo?”
Miss Shireen raises her eyebrows, but she translates this, too.
The girls don’t answer as readily this time. “Indian girls like us—from the village—do not learn to fight, Katina Didi,” Charubala says finally. She isn’t smiling. None of them are.
Miss Shireen claps her hands. “Dinnertime. Give the babies to their mothers, Katina and Gracie. They need breast milk. Time for us to head home.”
RAVI
INT. KOLKATA POLICE TRAINING CENTER—DAY
Reality hits in the shower. Ravi’s arms are so sore that scrubbing himself with soap is another mini-workout. The cold water feels incredible, though.
Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow, he thinks. The chant almost sounds like music in his head. A song of hope that brought him here.
Even moving slower than usual, he’s dried off and back in his jeans and blue button-down shirt while Bontu’s still in his stall belting out a Bollywood song. “Hey, Bontu!” Ravi calls. “I won’t be here tomorrow, but I’ll see you on Monday.”
Bontu sticks his soapy head out. “I hear other Americans are visiting with you? Two beautiful girls. Am I right?”
“How did you hear that?”
“I have spies in many places,” Bontu says. “Including the headquarters where Arjun Uncle works.”
“Oh, so you know him? He’s the one who told you, then. Wait—he said they were beautiful?”
“Oh, no. Mira Auntie told me that. My parents are their friends. But Arjun Uncle suggested I take all three of you on a tour of our city this Saturday. I happen to be the best tour guide in Kolkata.”
“The best, huh? That’s a big claim.”
“I’ll be launching my tour company shortly,” Bontu says. “Taking you people around will be excellent practice for me.”
“Is that your big dream?” Ravi asks.
“Yes! Wait just one minute and I will tell all.” He ducks his head back in the stall and rinses himself off, and then steps out with a towel wrapped around his waist. Sort of. It definitely doesn’t cover all of him. “As soon as Baba gives up on this idiotic police plan, I shall have a sign painted on my car. ‘Bontu’s Bengal Barano,’ I’ll be calling my business. BBB for short.”
Ravi feels a twinge of envy. Bontu’s only a year or two older than he is and knows exactly what he wants to do for a career. All Ravi knows is what he doesn’t want to do—go to law school. Or take over the family business as the next figurehead president.
“What does ‘Ba-rah-no’ mean?” he asks.
Bontu h
as to think for a moment. “Outing, I think is the best English translation. I plan to take tourists around West Bengal, including the Sunderbans, where wild tigers still roam, and Darjeeling, our lovely Himalayan mountain town. Our home state is a marvelous place, Ravi. Starting with the city of our birth. Will you let me take you and your companions on a tailor-made tour on Saturday?”
Ravi hesitates. He has no idea what he’ll be doing Saturday. So much depends on what happens tomorrow at the orphanage.
“That might work. I’ll borrow a phone to confirm, okay? What’s your number?”
“No mobile?” Bontu says, fumbling in his bag for a scrap of paper and pen.
We agreed not to have them with us this summer. Hard to live without mine. Don’t tell your uncle. He’d probably say ‘Ehh’ again.”
“He’s kinder than he sounds. Here’s my number. Hope to see you Saturday, Ravi.”
KAT
INT. MISS SHIREEN’S COTTAGE—NIGHT
Miss Shireen serves a simple supper. “This is called duudh, bhath, kawla. Milk, rice, bananas. Mixed with a lot of sugar. How we Bengalis love our sweets. Have you tried roshogollah yet?”
Kat listens with half a mind as Miss Shireen describes some other Bengali treats. The other half is wondering if and when to bring up her Plan B.
The phone rings, and Miss Shireen picks it up. “Yes, I know that boy’s family well,” she says. “If it is permitted by their pastor and Mira, it is okay with me.”
“What was that about, Miss Shireen?” Gracie asks.
“That was Arjun. Sergeant Shen’s nephew, the boy who’s training with Ravi, has offered to take you sightseeing on Saturday. If you want to go, it might be a good way to see our city.”
Kat hesitates. This must be the giant toddler that Ravi described. “Do you know him?”
Forward Me Back to You Page 16
