“It’s all right, Asha. We have my wages and there’s some money in my account—compensation from the fire.” He looks across the garden toward the gate, nodding slowly. “The deadline’s the day after tomorrow, then. And it’s your birthday.” He glances down at me fondly. “We need to get home as soon as we can. I’m so sorry this has happened. You’ve been so brave.”
I feel warmth rising inside me. “When Ma gave me Nanijee’s pendant, it connected me to our ancestors and her spirit showed me the way to you—I believe she kept watch over us in the form of a lamagaia—at every step of this long journey she’s been with us. But”—I glance up at him—“are you sure you’re all right to travel so soon?”
He puts his arm around me. “I think the thunder on the night you were born made you extra special. Don’t worry about me, my little Ashi, I’m feeling stronger every day.”
This time Papa takes my hand and we walk together toward the veranda, where Taran is stringing paper decorations along the ceiling. “We’re going to start Divali a little early,” he says with a smile. “Give you a proper send-off.”
In the evening we sit down to the farewell meal, which everyone’s been helping to prepare. There’s a new green cloth on the table with fragrant frangipani flowers lining the middle. In the center are bowls of steaming golden dhal and on either side two large bowls of rice—one plain and the other splashed yellow with saffron.
Papa sits on one side of me, Jeevan on the other.
Sami stands on his chair and raises his glass of homemade lemonade. “To Asha and Jeevan,” he says. “To the amazing spirit bird and to all of us for our incredible escape.” The others all join in cheering and laughing.
“Divali Mubarak,” says Raj. “Happy Divali.”
I smile and join in the toast, but I’m reminded again of the deadline.
It’s late morning at Zandapur station, the day we’re finally leaving for home. Our journey will be slow through the steep mountain villages but by nightfall we should have reached Galapoor. Then first thing tomorrow—the morning of Divali—we’ll speed toward Sonahaar and get to Moormanali before dark.
“Look at you!” says Papa. “It was so kind of Lakshmi to make you an outfit for your birthday, and to make Jeevan a shirt.”
I swoosh the ground with my lengha skirt, the magenta-colored sequins sparkling as they catch the light. A smile spreads like a half-moon right across my face when I clutch the folds of the full skirt, feeling like Sita returning from exile; the only thing missing is a golden bow. Even so, a knot of nervousness still coils in my stomach. We’re going home, but will we make it in time to pay Meena off?
Papa sits down while Jeevan and I get in line for tickets. Jeevan takes my hand and squeezes it, as if he knows what’s going through my mind. He looks so handsome in his new shirt—I know his ma will burst into tears when she sees him. We stand together, waiting our turn.
“Close your eyes and hold out your arm.” Jeevan snaps me out of my daydream.
What’s this all about? I feel his fingers tying something soft around my wrist.
“You can open them now,” he says, beaming. “I know it’s a day early but with everything else happening tomorrow … Happy birthday!”
I touch the orange-and-pink woven band. “Wow … Did you make it?”
“Attica helped.”
“It’s so pretty, my favorite colors.” I kiss him lightly on the cheek. “Thank you.” My face flushes. “For everything.”
He darts his eyes to the ground and nods, turning nearly as purple as my lengha.
We buy the tickets and return to Papa. I give him the change and we make our way toward the train.
A chattering murmuration of starlings perches on high wires above the platform and hordes of noisy people mill about, buying snacks and fragrant chai for the train.
“This is going to be the best birthday ever,” I say, squeezing Papa’s hand.
“I wish I could have gotten you something,” he says, disappointment in his eyes. “Even if it was only small.”
“Finding you was the best present ever, Papa!” I link arms with him, resting my head against the crook of his arm.
Lakshmi, Raj, Sami, and Attica emerge from the crowd and hurry toward us.
“Just one more goodbye!” Lakshmi laughs, giving us a huge hug. “We’re so pleased it’s all worked out.”
Papa puts his hands together in thanks. “I won’t forget what you did for Asha and Jeevan … and me.”
“Goodbye.” I hug Lakshmi and then Raj, Sami, and finally Attica. I lift her up just like I do with Roopa and she winds her legs around my waist. “You have to come to Moormanali. You’ll love it.”
“What a great idea,” says Papa. “Come for a mountain break … Bring all the children.”
“We’ll save up,” says Raj.
Jeevan slaps Sami on the back. “You have to come. I promised I’d teach you to drive, didn’t I?”
“We’d better get on,” says Papa. “We don’t want the train going without us … Come on, you two.”
The three of us link arms and walk along the platform together, but just before we board, I turn and give our friends a final wave.
Just like with the train at Sonahaar all those weeks ago, the hot, narrow corridor is full of people jostling and shoving to get to
