It keeps looking at me, unfurls its powerful wings again, and this time rises into the gray-white sky, billowing dried shisham leaves into the air like dust.
A while later, Jeevan brings the twins home to find me crying at the kitchen table. I wipe my tears and help him to put my brother and sister to bed.
Afterward Jeevan places an awkward hand on my back. “Are you OK?”
I walk over to the shrine. “Jeevan, look.” I push the letter from Uncle Neel in front of him and point at the bit about England. “Ma’s been keeping this secret. Uncle Neel wants us to sell the farm and go and live there.”
Jeevan’s eyes dart to the floor, then back to me. “She wouldn’t actually think of leaving, though, would she?” He looks away. “Do you want to go?”
I beat back the tears. “How can you think I’d want to?” I say, folding my arms across my chest. “You know how much I love being here. Nowhere would be the same … and I’d never find a friend like you.” I reach for Jeevan’s arm and push the sleeve of his shirt away from his wrist to reveal a friendship band. “Remember the day I tied this?” My face burns as hot as coals as I recall how he stood up to those men, putting himself in danger. “Our friendship means the world to me, Jeevan! Especially now! Everything’s tumbling around me and I don’t know what to do.”
“We made a pact to always help each other,” says Jeevan, twisting the band. “And I mean to keep my promise.”
I hear the sound of chappala squelching on the damp ground outside, and nervous jabbing pains stab my stomach. “Quick, it’s Ma.” My guilty fingers can barely fold the letter and I push it clumsily back behind the shrine.
Jeevan steps toward the doorway. “Meet me in the mango tree later.”
“OK. I’ll try to get away. Thank you.”
He bumps into Ma as she brings in the milk. “Were you helping Asha with her homework?” She tries to smile and ruffles his hair.
He quickly smooths it back down. “Yes … something like that …” he adds under his breath, the secret turning his cheeks red. “See you tomorrow.”
“Let’s eat,” says Ma, letting out a long sigh and striking a match to light the stove. “Call Rohan and Roopa, will you?”
“They already ate at Jeevan’s,” I say, desperate to talk about what’s happened. “They’re in bed. And I don’t feel like eating … I just want to talk, Ma. What’s happened to Papa? Why hasn’t he sent the money like he promised?”
She still doesn’t answer me but concentrates on ladling the yellow dhal into two wooden bowls and hands me the one with most. I shake my head and push it away.
“Come on, Asha. You have to eat. It’s Monday tomorrow and you’ve got school.” She stands beside me, twisting the tea towel. “You know the sacrifices we’ve made so you get a good education … it’s really important.”
I grab hold of the tea towel so Ma has to face me. “What’s the point of education if we’re going to lose the farm and go to England anyway?”
She looks at me, nodding slowly. “So you found the letter.”
I feel my cheeks redden.
“Sit down and eat something, Asha.”
I throw myself onto the wooden bench and tear at a rock-hard roti leftover from this morning, dunk a piece viciously into the dhal, and shove it into my mouth, but it won’t go down and scratches my throat.
“That’s right … eat up.” Ma’s brow is set in a deep furrow as she pours a cupful of the milk and begins heating it. “This will give you some strength.” She sprinkles cinnamon and places the frothy warm drink gently in front of me.
I sip at the milk, forcing the hard bread down my throat. “Will they really come back at Divali?” I ask, afraid of what she’s going to say. “And if they do, will we really have to sell the farm?”
Ma doesn’t reply, she just clasps her hands together and stares at the doorway, and I know that the answer is yes.
“If only we knew where my ma hid her gold,” she says after a long pause. It’s as if she’s in another world.
“Nanijee had gold?”
“She only told me about it when she was dying. She was feverish, so I was never sure how true it was.”
“What did she tell you?”
“She said that it was a collection of all the precious gold dowries given to the daughters of our family. Each generation from way back added to the treasure and passed it on. She said there were ancient engraved bangles, earrings, necklaces. Your nanijee wanted to keep it all together and safe for hard times … but it was all so long ago that nothing is certain.”
“Did you ever see it?”
“No,” says Ma, twisting the tea towel again. “We don’t know what she did with it. Maybe she intended to tell us, before she died—but she didn’t get the chance. Or maybe it never existed at all.”
“If we could find it”—I begin to feel excited—“Papa wouldn’t have to do that awful job in the factory … and we wouldn’t be forced to go to England.”
“Don’t you think we’ve looked, Asha?”
I will my heart to stop thudding, and take a deep breath. “Ma, we can’t leave Papa behind. Anything could have happened to him. This is our home. He might come back here looking for us.”
“I can’t manage without him. I’ve been to Sonahaar to get a clear phone signal. I tried the number he gave us over and over again, but it’s dead. And I keep sending letters, but no reply.”
“We can’t abandon him, Ma!” My words are choked and I can hardly get them out.
Ma’s face clouds over. “But what am I meant to do?”
“Everything I love is here in India,” I say between sobs. “I
