Even though it’s sweltering in here, I feel too shy to pull my hood off, but my head is getting hotter and my thoughts spin around me in confusing spirals. Perhaps I need to find a train that’s going toward the high Himalayas and stops at Galapoor or perhaps there’s another board in another part of the station.
I squat on the ground with my back against a cool pillar, trying to work out what I should do as I stare at the list of destinations again. I’m begrudgingly grateful for Jeevan’s map now and get it out, spread it on the ground, and find all the places that he measured and marked in different colors.
Compared to mine, his is so detailed. His numbers are a messy scrawl but I can see he’s written that it’s four hundred miles to Zandapur from here, and I feel my anger flash again as I think of his betrayal and cowardice for letting me do this all by myself.
I’m still studying the map when I get a strange feeling that someone is watching me. I peer around the pillar into the crowded hall but can’t figure out who it might be. Maybe Jeevan’s papa found out and went to the police; there are plenty of them about. My heart clatters noisily against my ribs.
I yank my hood forward, trying to bring it as close to my face as I can, and move toward the busier part of the station, keeping my head lowered.
I sense someone close behind me and I get ready to sprint, but a hand on my shoulder stops me.
I twist around. Is it the police? “Leave me alone!” I shout, ready to defend myself as best I can.
“Asha … Is that you?”
I can’t believe it … a tight knot forms in my throat. “Jeevan! What are you doing here?” I push back my hood to take a proper look at him.
“I’ve been looking for you for ages. I wasn’t sure it was you.”
“So there was someone watching me!”
“I thought and thought about it.” He twists at his friendship band. “And in the end I couldn’t let you go by yourself … so when my papa was busy I came to find you.”
I hurl my arms around him, hugging him as tightly as I can.
Jeevan turns beet red, waves his arms around to stop himself from toppling over, and clears his throat. “I’m sorry I let you down,” he says quietly.
“I know how hard it must have been,” I say. “But you came in the end and that’s all that matters now.”
A little frown appears between his eyebrows and I know he’s thinking about what he’s done, wondering how his papa will explain it to his ma when he gets home. “After I watched you leave, I kept imagining all the dangers out here,” says Jeevan. “And I couldn’t let you face them all alone. It’ll be like that book we read at school, The Three Musketeers. ‘All for one and one for all.’ ”
“There are only two of us,” I say, laughing for the first time in ages. “In case you haven’t noticed.” Now that he’s here, I feel a fresh surge of energy. “How do you like my new look?” I redden as I pass my hand over my clipped hair. Jeevan hasn’t said anything yet.
“It looks … different,” he says. “In a sort of interesting way, like a proper pilgrim.” He smiles.
“Or a warrior,” I add.
He suddenly starts to pace. “Let’s go. My papa’s probably noticed that I’ve gone. He might be looking for us and I’m sure he’ll go to the police.”
We push ourselves into the crowds of people waiting on the platform.
“We have to find a train that will drop us at Galapoor,” I say.
“Ask someone. Look for a friendly face.” Jeevan glances toward the doors.
“What about him?” I point at the first person who catches my eye.
Jeevan jumps in before I can say anything. “Excuse me, my ma wants to know which train goes into the high Himalayas from here.”
“We need to get to Galapoor,” I add.
The man points at the busy board. “It’s the one that’s going to Shimbala in half an hour,” he says, looking us up and down. “Going for the fresh mountain air, are you, you and your brother?” He nods at me as he says “brother.”
“Yes,” says Jeevan quickly.
My cheeks feel red, but I’m pleased my short hair is fooling people. “Thank you,” I say, smiling.
We walk away quickly and head toward the buzzing platform.
“I can’t believe that man thought you were a boy,” says Jeevan, elbowing me. “He must be half-blind.”
I shrug. “It just means the disguise is working.”
“Anyway, how are we going to get on?” asks Jeevan, changing the subject. “I didn’t bring any money.”
I look in my purse. “I haven’t got much and definitely not enough for two train tickets. We’ll have to sneak on. There are so many people they might not check.”
All over the platform, frightening-looking guards in dark uniforms order the crowds about, directing them to trains, taking tickets, working through the chaos.
Jeevan’s eyes widen as he watches them. “Those guards have got batons. What happens if we get caught?”
“I don’t know,” I say, making tight fists. “But I know we have to try and get on that train.”
We try to make ourselves invisible by pressing into the platform wall, keeping well away from the guards who stalk up and down like hungry wolves, ready to pounce, checking tickets—tickets we don’t have.
“Come on, come on,” I say, willing the train to
