“Oh! That shop. Their chai is quite good. I’d like to go with you.”
As he watches Bontu tie his shoelaces, Ravi doesn’t say no. His time in the city of his birth is dwindling. They’re leaving India on Tuesday. Oh, how he hates endings and goodbyes. And there are so many to come. Bangla lessons are over; on Monday he and Gracie said farewell to Mrs. Gupta, Gopal, and a few other staff members in the Bengali Emancipation Society office. Over the next few days, he’ll share only a few more meals with Arjun, Mira, and the twins. One more service in a Bengali church. And he’ll finish up his thirty-sixth and final training session with Shen on Monday. He’ll have to say goodbye to Bontu then, too, and he hates the thought of that.
That means tomorrow, Friday, is his last time at the chai shop. Ravi’s been sitting there alone for seven Fridays in a row, keeping an eye on the Royal Diadem Society Guesthouse. One more watch. Stupid or not, the thought of stopping Sarker and rescuing that girl helped him survive this intense summer. Anyway, he needs to say goodbye to his biggest fan, Mr. Lakshmi the chai-wallah.
Bontu stands and hoists his workout bag over his shoulder. “Well, Ravi? May I join you tomorrow?”
Ravi stands, too, and looks up at his first friend in Kolkata. After so many hours in that shop alone, it might be good to finish out his Friday vigils in good company. “I’d like that, Bontu.”
KAT
EXT. ASHA HOUSE VERANDA—NIGHT
It’s so hot on Thursday that the only breeze at Asha House comes at twilight on the front porch. That’s where Kat finds Kavita rocking in a chair with Shiuli on her lap. Kavita’s sitting in exactly the same spot as she was in the video Kat saw so many weeks ago.
Kat takes the empty chair beside her, fighting a wave of sadness. She leaves India in a few days and she’s managed to do zilch to help Kavita. Besides change a few of her baby’s diapers.
“You’ve stopped wearing shalwar kameez, Katina Didi,” Kavita says. “May I ask why?”
Kat’s in her Oakland clothes again. And it’s too hot for Grandma Vee’s red scarf, so there’s not a spot of color in sight. “I’m not Indian. Those clothes belong in your culture, not mine. May I hold the baby?”
Kavita hands over her daughter. “But we’re so happy to share our culture with you. Why not a mix, at least?”
“I’ll wear the headbands you and Amrita gave me, I promise.” Kat kisses the baby’s cheek. “I’m so glad you named her Shiuli.”
“I am living for her now. Not only me. Maybe that is why thinking about testifying is making me so afraid.”
Kat’s whole body tenses. Maybe she hasn’t decided yet.
Don’t say anything. Don’t say anything.
“What do you think I should do, Katina Didi?”
There it is! She’s asking for advice. Kat’s one last chance to help before she leaves. She hands back the baby, suddenly so excited she’s afraid she might drop her. “Do you really want to know what I think?”
“Yes. What would you do if you were me?”
“Well, I was in a … similar sort of situation as you last year. A different and much smaller experience, but still. Someone attacked me. I managed to fight him off, but it was horrible.”
Kavita stops rocking. She’s listening closely now. “And?”
“Well, I … spoke out against him. But I shouldn’t have. He lied. He’s a good liar. Nobody knew which one of us to believe. But he was able to stay. I was the one who had to leave. His life didn’t change. Mine completely changed. I lost. He won. I think they always do, Kavita.”
Kavita props Shiuli up over her shoulder and pats her on the back. “But you told the truth?”
“Yes.”
“And he lied?”
“Yes. He told the authorities that I was the one who attacked him.”
“You fought him off physically?”
“I did. I’d learned self-defense, you see. He gave up after a knee injury and a shoulder dislocation.”
“What happened to you? To your body?”
“Not too much. He groped me, tore my clothes, and that’s it. But my mind was a mess. Is a mess.”
Kavita tucks the baby under her orna and starts feeding her. “How is it that you say he won? He was forced to lie. You told the truth. He was physically hurt. You were not, as much. It sounds like standing against him made you the winner, Katina Didi.”
No. Wait. That’s not right.
“But I had to leave my mother, school, and job, Kavita. He was able to stay right where he was. Keep everything he had.” And then she says it again: “He won. I lost. Don’t you see?”
“I see that because of what you chose to do, you came here to us. To me. I see that, too. Isn’t that winning?”
Kat doesn’t answer. In a way, it is, I guess. In sort of a big way.
“Don’t worry about me,” Kavita says, gazing down at her baby. “I’m strong, like you. And now I shall become even more strong, for the sake of this little one.”
She hands the satisfied baby back to Kat. Little Shiuli.
“She’s so beautiful,” Kat says. “And yes, I know you’ll protect her, just like my mom did for me.”
“When you told me about your mother, it gave me hope. If she can raise such a good daughter as you, perhaps I can, too.”
Kat’s glad it’s getting dark out here, because as she kisses Shiuli again and again, nobody but the baby sees her superpower.
RAVI
INT./EXT. CHAI SHOP—DAY
Bontu manages to find a place to park not far from the chai shop and hotel. The day is so hot already that Ravi can feel the sidewalk sizzling under his sandals.
“This cardamom-spiced chai is tasty,” Bontu says, ordering biscuits with his second cup. “I’ll put this shop on my BBB list.”
“Sounds great,” Ravi says, still keeping an eye on the deserted hotel through the window. Force of habit, he thinks. He’s brought his backpack along with the glasses and has cash in his pocket. Just in case.
Bontu waves a hand in front of Ravi’s eyes. “What are you staring at?”
“Oh, nothing. Just the street. I’m going to miss Kolkata, Bontu.”
“Come back and visit. What will you do when you go back to America? Are you intending to become a policeman?”
“Me? Er … no. I’ve never thought of that, actually.” Ravi notices a sedan pulling up outside the hotel. It’s a blue Skoda. He keeps watching, but nobody gets out.
“Why are you gazing outside, Ravi? Am I missing a beautiful girl who keeps passing by?”
“No. It’s nothing.”
Mr. Lakshmi brings Ravi’s second and Bontu’s third cup to their table. “Here you are, Mr. Biswas.”
Bontu grins. “I, too, am in Mr. Biswas’s next fillum. We are rehearsing right now, actually.”
Ravi glances across the street again. And almost chokes on his tea.
There he is—Sarker—climbing out of the sedan!
He leaps to his feet. “Bontu, it’s him! The perp!”
Bontu spins around so fast he overturns his teacup.
The trafficker is standing on the pavement outside the hotel door, greeting another man. His “customer”! Ravi thinks. Sure enough, Sarker reaches out his slimy hand and gives the other man something that glints in the sun. Room key! Ravi guesses.
The disgusting “customer” walks into the Royal Diadem Society Guesthouse. Ravi starts fumbling through his backpack for his hidden-camera glasses.
“What’s going on?” Bontu asks. “What’s a ‘perp’?”
“That man’s a bad guy, Bontu! A trafficker! We have to stop him.”
Where are those glasses? Why is there so much STUFF in this stupid backpack?
Bontu is staring like Ravi’s got three heads. “You can’t just storm in there. These criminals always keep guards nearby. With guns.”
“I know he’s got a girl in there! We have to do something!”
Ravi’s fingers finally find the glasses, buried underneath four comic books
and his Bangla textbook. Everyone in the shop is staring.
“Please sit down, Ravi. They’re thinking Amit Biswas has gone mad. Let me ring my uncle if you really think something’s going on.”
“I already tried the last time this happened! He didn’t believe me! I’m going in!”
Ravi’s hands are shaking as he puts on the glasses.
This is it.
The moment he’s been waiting for ever since he saw Sarker. Ever since he looked into the terrified eyes of that girl.
He puts on the glasses and activates the camera. Good, the thing still works.
Bontu puts his big hands on Ravi’s shoulders and gives him a little shake. “Ravi, listen to me! You sound just like those Americans Uncle always complains about! If a girl is being sold in there, you’ll put both your lives at risk by running in on your own like this.”
But Ravi doesn’t want to listen. He wants to feel his fist land on Sarker’s jaw. Twisting out of his friend’s grasp, he starts to make a run for the door.
He takes two steps. Suddenly, with a big OOOMPHH!, Bontu hurtles himself at Ravi from behind and flings both arms around his waist.
Ravi falls flat, facedown.
The camera glasses fly off.
Bontu landed hard, and now Ravi’s pinned under his weight. “Get. Off. Me,” he grunts.
Somehow Bontu manages to sit up, but he doesn’t obey Ravi. Instead, he wriggles around until his butt is firmly planted on Ravi’s back.
At least Ravi can breathe now.
“HELP! SOMEONE GET HIM OFF ME!”
Nobody comes to his rescue.
“What is happening?” he hears someone ask.
“It’s Amit Biswas,” Mr. Lakshmi answers. “He is rehearsing a scene from a new fillum with that big fellow.”
All around them, Ravi can hear people oohing and aahing over their performance.
Ravi clenches his jaw. “Bontu—GET OFF!”
But Bontu doesn’t budge.
He sits on Ravi like a Tata truck.
Ravi struggles hard to escape, pushing, twisting, shouting, even trying to remember some of the moves that Gracie used. He’s almost in tears now. “Bontu! Please! We have to save those girls!”
And that’s when he hears sirens, getting louder and closer.
Bontu climbs off him. “Ravi, come and see.”
Ravi gets on his feet and walks to the window. Four police cars have pulled up in front of the Royal Diadem Society Guesthouse. Shen leaps out of one of them. Ravi spots Sarker sprinting down the street, but Shen catches up to the criminal in ten seconds and has him in handcuffs in another ten.
Two other officers escort the “customer” and hotel owner out of the front entrance. And after a few more minutes, as Ravi and Bontu and everyone else in the chai shop watch, two officers, both women, come out of the Royal Diadem Society Guesthouse, each holding two crying children by the hand.
Four girls.
Rescued.
Three perps. Including Sarker.
Captured.
The entire chai shop bursts into applause.
With a jolt, Ravi realizes that none of this would have happened had he raced in there fifteen minutes earlier. He turns to Bontu, who’s clapping loudly beside Mr. Lakshmi. “I’m an idiot. Thanks, Bontu. Thanks.”
“My pleasure,” Bontu says with his trademark grin.
Not all heroes wear capes, Ravi thinks. Some just have round, hefty bottoms.
KAT
INT. MISS SHIREEN’S COTTAGE—DAY
Kat and Gracie are in their small alcove bedroom, holding babies again. The sun is rising after their last overnight baby watch—an extra one that they volunteered for when they heard the housemothers chatting about how much they wanted to see the new Amit Biswas fillum.
“I’m glad you told Kavita your story,” Gracie says, after Kat shares what happened on the veranda. “That Ms. Vee knows what she’s talking about. You look so much happier today. I’m going to have to try some of this Golden-Ruling myself.”
“You Golden-Rule all the time, Gracie,” Kat says. “It comes as naturally to you as walking or speaking Spanish.”
“Thanks. I try, anyway. Hey, are you going with me today to meet Ravi and Bontu? It’s so hot that we’re skipping sightseeing and heading straight to the cinema hall.”
Kat thinks for a moment. “No. I think I’ll stay here and spend time with Miss Shireen.”
“Okay, but Ravi’s going to be sad not to see you, Kat. Mind if I tell him about your talk with Kavita? And that you’re feeling better?”
“That’s fine. And tell him I’m sorry I’ll miss seeing his twin’s newest ‘fillum.’”
* * *
Miss Shireen and Kat are collapsed on the couch under the ceiling fan, listening to Bangla gaan and talking about the big rescue that took place at the Royal Diadem Hotel the day before. It made headlines in the newspapers this morning.
“They’re saying Shen’s the best police officer in Kolkata,” says Miss Shireen. “He’ll probably get promoted.”
“I wish I could have met him while I was here,” Kat says. “He sure got Ravi into shape. That kid’s body looks totally different than when we got here.”
“As does Gracie’s,” says Miss Shireen. “Thanks to you.”
There’s a pause. The two of them haven’t discussed the botched demo since it happened.
“Kavita tells me her talk with you was very helpful,” Miss Shireen says, breaking the silence. “What did you tell her?”
“Not much. Just shared my own story, like you suggested. It was helpful for me, too.”
“Yes, you seem more cheerful today. Anyway, whatever you said to Kavita, it helped her make up her mind. She’s decided to testify. Arjun’s thrilled.”
Kat’s not surprised. After their talk, she guessed that’s what Kavita was going to do. But still—she wishes Hyena man could know how much courage it will take for Kavita to walk into that courtroom.
“Arjun really cares about the welfare of our Asha House girls, Kat,” Miss Shireen says, as if she can read Kat’s mind. “He loves them like family.” She hesitates again, as if she’s weighing her next words. “One of them is family, actually.”
“What do you mean?” Kat asks, sitting up.
“It’s not a secret. They talk about it freely, but now that their boys are getting older, they are a bit more cautious.”
Kat sees it now. “You mean … Mira Auntie?”
“Yes. She was one of the first girls to be housed here. And now, see—as a survivor, she’s able to do wonderful work with our rescued boys.”
Kat pictures the kind, capable woman who welcomed her that first day in Kolkata. Happy spouse. Loving parent. Plus, a success at her job. Maybe a traumatized girl could become a strong, successful adult. “Did Arjun help rescue her?”
“Oh, no, not at all. They met years after that, in our church. I was there, so I can assure you there was no exploitation—it was all proper. Mira left Asha House for college, returned to work at BES, the two of them met, and the rest is history. So you see, Arjun sees his beloved wife in every one of our girls. He sees what they can become in the future.”
Guess everyone has a backstory.
They make us real, even if they do make us cry.
She glances at the face of the woman sitting beside her. “How did you end up at Asha House, Miss Shireen? You’ve never told me much about your life.”
Miss Shireen smiles. “That’s a longer story than I can share after only ten weeks’ acquaintance.” But she reaches out and pats Kat’s hand. “I’m sorry if I was abrupt the other day. I’ve been ruminating on your ‘demonstration,’ and there is one thing I can agree to: Every baby who comes our way could receive this self-defense instruction. When Shiuli and Diana and Logan are old enough, will you return here to teach them?”
“I will,” Kat says. “By then I hope to be a black belt, and a much better teacher.”
“Is that a promise?” Miss Shireen ask
s.
“Yes. I keep my promises, Miss Shireen.”
“That is why I’m inviting you to return. And when you do, I promise to tell you my whole story, from start to finish.”
RAVI
INT. KOLKATA POLICE TRAINING CENTER—DAY
The Monday after his team rescues four underage girls from the Royal Diadem Society Guesthouse and arrests three thugs for trafficking children, Shen makes Ravi hit the floor for what feels like three hundred push-ups.
Bontu’s nowhere in sight. Ravi found a note from his friend waiting on a bench in the locker room: “Meet at the chai shop once you’re done.”
He’s on his own with Shen for his last training session. The whistle blows nonstop like it did during his first. No words, just that stupid whistle. Ravi pushes, and pulls, and runs, and sweats. His body manages to do everything he asks of it, even though by the end of two hours he’s exhausted.
The closing whistle sounds—three short beeps in quick succession. Shen hasn’t said a word other than grunting a few commands.
“Thank you for training me this summer, sir,” Ravi says, and he means it. In spite of the focus required to survive the intense physical challenge—or maybe because of it—Shen’s sessions carried him through the lowest points of the summer. Plus the man gave Ravi a big chunk of his time. And didn’t give up on him.
“I understand you witnessed the rescue?” Shen asks abruptly.
“Yes, sir. I see now why you asked me to stay away.”
Shen doesn’t reply.
What else is there to say? “Goodbye, sir.” Ravi turns and heads to the locker room for the last time.
“Stop!”
Ravi obeys.
Boots thud his way.
A hand of steel lands on his shoulder. It spins him around.
Ravi catches his breath. Has Bontu told his uncle about the stupid plan the American almost tried? Is Ravi Thornton about to get the scolding of a lifetime?
But Shen is smiling. Actually smiling. Ravi can almost hear the man’s cheeks and jaw creak from the unusual exertion.
“You have worked hard and seen good results, Ravi Thornton,” Shen says. “Maybe you should consider law enforcement as your line of work. Any police force would be lucky to have you. American or Bengali.”
Forward Me Back to You Page 26
