“Let’s send them a postcard when we get a chance. Then at least they’ll know we’re safe.”
He shrugs his shoulders, like he’s exasperated with himself and can’t shake it off. I know he feels bad about us getting thrown off the train, but I don’t want him to feel any worse. I swallow my disappointment. “We have to toughen up. We’re bound to meet more people like that guard.”
“That man had no right to treat us like thieves when he knows nothing about us,” he says, swiping at a tall plant of chickweed growing along the side of the road.
“We know we’re on an important journey,” I say, hobbling alongside him. “Whatever he said doesn’t matter.”
As if someone is blowing out candles, the light is disappearing before our eyes. “Let’s look for somewhere to sleep. We might find an old farm building or something.” I spot a tall pistachio tree a little way off the road. “What about sleeping under there? It’ll be just like those nights when we camped out late in the mango tree.”
“Yeah … We can shelter right under the branches,” says Jeevan. “And it’ll keep the rain off as well.”
We tramp across the muddy field toward the tree, its branches, laden with nuts, almost touching the ground.
“We’ll be safe in here,” I say, flopping down beside the canopy. “And look, we can even have a feast.” I pick a handful of pale pistachios off the ground and begin to prize them open, laying the empty shells in patterns on the ground. I take a dry twig and dig it into the soil, strike one of the matches from my bag, and light it. “I missed not lighting the deeva tonight.” I press my palms together. “Bless our journey, Lord Shiva, and watch over our families. Keep them safe until we return.”
Jeevan puts his hands behind his head and lies down. “Not bad at all. Food, shelter, and prayers.”
I let the makeshift deeva burn itself out. “I put eggs and a mango in my bag this morning, but let’s save those for tomorrow and manage on the nuts for now.”
“Really?” Jeevan looks disappointed.
“We have to be careful with supplies and there are loads of nuts. Even enough for you!”
I take out Papa’s scarf, almost as big as a shawl, and lay it on the hard ground. “Come here … It makes a great bed.”
We lie in the shelter of the tree, darkness swooping down on us like a wide-winged bird. Stars begin to pierce the sky just like they do in Moormanali, but I can’t believe that these are the same stars that shine on our grazing pastures and farm. I think of Ma, miles away, having to do all the jobs by herself, and I steel my heart to stop it from wandering back there.
“So, you thinking about home?” asks Jeevan.
“Yes.”
“Me too.”
I prop myself up on my elbow. “OK, Jeevan … here’s the plan. Tomorrow we’ll carry on walking toward Galapoor, go to the temple at Kasare, and before we know it we’ll be in Zandapur. We’ll find Papa and head straight back home and everyone will be amazed.”
“And they’ll be so proud of what we’ve done,” says Jeevan excitedly. “We’re not going to let this setback get us down!”
We eat our supper of soft green pistachios and watch the sky getting starrier.
“It’s like someone’s hurled deevay into the sky,” I say.
“Well, you know that a star is just a luminous ball of gas, mostly hydrogen and helium, and it’s only held together by its own gravity.”
“Is that what Mr. Dhalia told you in physics?” I ask. “Has he ever been up in space, though? It’s much nicer to think of them as deevay … Can you find Orion?” We love playing hunting stars back home and I want to cheer us both up with one of our games.
“There’s his belt,” he says, staring into the sky. “Have you found it yet?”
“Yes.” I look up at the neat line of stars. “Can you see his bow?”
“Got it,” he says. “And his little dog?”
“Down by his foot.” I feel myself relaxing a little.
The sky flashes as stars shoot across the darkness, zipping over Orion’s shoulders.
“That means we’re going to be lucky,” I say.
Jeevan smiles, shuffling into the canopy of the tree, and stretches. “Let’s get some sleep.”
In the far distance some creature gives a soulful bark and I imagine a wolf baring its teeth before the full moon. I crawl under the branches and shuffle closer to Jeevan.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“It’s only a dog,” he says, yawning.
“Are you sure it’s not something more dangerous? We’re out in the wild now … And do you remember the stories of the half man, half beast they say haunts the high Himalayas?”
“I’ve told you before—they’re just stories … The Musketeers sleep anywhere and aren’t afraid of anything,” says Jeevan.
The full moon rises like a huge silver paisa, shedding its pale light into the tree. It’s six weeks to Divali and we’ll have found Papa way before then, and he’ll pay Ma’s debt and write to Uncle Neel and tell him we’re not coming to England after all.
“I’m on my way,” I whisper, listening to the howling night sounds like hungry spirits on the wind. The warm metal of Nanijee’s pendant presses against my skin and I clench my fingers around it.
I wake up from a dream, confused to find myself curled into a frozen ball with Jeevan snoring next to me, and then I remember how we ended up here.
My body aches from lying on the hard ground and my neck is stiff, but I sit up in the darkness and peer out of the tree, rubbing my eyes. The first rays of sun crack out of the steely
