“Don’t be angry, Ma,” I say. “I brought Papa home.”
“Oh, Asha.” Ma’s tears fall onto my head. “Asha … You’re home at last.”
She wraps me in her special blue sari, embroidered with peacocks.
Papa’s right behind me and hurls his arms around us all. “I wish I could stay home forever,” he says. And a little bit of my happiness crumbles when I remember that he’s used all his money on repaying the loan.
“Will you have to go back to Zandapur?” I whisper, just to him.
“We shouldn’t think about that now,” he replies.
Rohan and Roopa hold me around the waist. “We missed you,” they both say.
“We didn’t know if you’d come back,” says Rohan.
“Your hair’s gone,” says Roopa.
Ma puts the marigolds she’s had looped on her arm over Papa’s head and buries her face into his shoulder as he holds her even closer. “What happened, Ashi? How did you find him? Your telegram said so little.”
Jeevan and I share a glance and start to tell our story.
Our voices drift into the evening sky like clouds of incense. The mooing cows join in, and so do the rushing waters of the Ganges, the sweet chirruping of the rosefinches, the rhythm from my pendant, and the far-off cry of my nanijee and all the daughters from our family, raising their spirits from the past.
It’s the song of the mountain and it echoes through our valley—a blessing joining us all together.
Family is the most important thing in the whole world and now that we’re together again, I won’t let anything separate us.
Like every Divali, there’s no moon tonight, and the path leading to our house is lit with flickering deevay, just like in the paintings from the ancient texts.
We head inside as the night grows chilly, but I notice something through the back door. “Ma, Papa, look!” The well is lit up as brightly as a shrine and my nanijee is perched on the very edge of the crumbling wall. I go back outside and walk toward her.
“This is where I first saw you, wasn’t it?” I close my eyes and the rhythm from my pendant buzzes through my bones, awakening the place deep in my spirit where my magical powers are born, and I move closer to the well.
Everyone gathers around, staring at my spirit bird in disbelief and admiration. Ma inches closer to her and stretches out a shaky hand.
“I think Nanijee would like it if you touched her,” I say.
“M-maybe later,” she says, drawing her hand back.
“It’s OK, Ma.” I hitch up my lengha, tucking the fabric into the waistband, and stand on the wall beside my nanijee. She walks around the edge of the well, and I’m convinced she’s trying to tell me something.
“I’m going down there.”
Ma jumps onto the wall too and grabs me by the arm. “Stop, Asha!”
Nanijee flies up and lands on my shoulder, flapping her wings.
“Asha knows what she’s doing,” cries Jeevan. “She’s amazing.”
I shoot him a smile. “I’m trusting myself, Ma—now you need to trust me too … like Nanijee does.”
My nanijee jumps off my shoulder, hops toward the opening, and peers down, pecking at the inside of the well.
“I think your spirit bird would go down with you if she could,” says Jeevan. “But of course …”
“Her wingspan’s too wide to get out,” we both finish together, laughing.
“Don’t be silly, Asha,” says Rohan. “You can’t go down there, you’ll fall into the water.”
I squeeze his hand. “It’s OK … I’m used to climbing and there are footholds in the wall.”
“Jeevan’s right,” says Papa, putting his arm around Ma. “Let her go.”
“Paras!” she says, twisting her hands. “We’ve always told them to stay away from the well and now—oh—I can’t believe you’re telling her to go into it … Are you crazy?”
My spirit bird begins flapping her wings hysterically.
“Ma, I’m going.”
“I can see that … but I’m staying right here.” She stays close by the opening, her eyes wild with fear.
Nanijee perches next to her and makes a clucking sound.
I grip the rim and lower myself into the darkness of the well. The sides feel damp and slimy as I search for a foothold. “Shine a deeva down here,” I call, my strong voice rising to the surface. There’s a brick to one side of my foot and I slide onto it, trying to keep my balance.
The golden light from above flits like fireflies as it illuminates the shadows in the well, and then I spot something. A few inches below is a wide gap in the wall’s surface, with a narrow ledge just below. I carefully drop down to the ledge to take a better look. I reach my hand deep inside the gap and I feel something hard. I run my fingers along its smooth edges.
“Have you found something?” calls Jeevan.
“Yes,” I reply, staring up at their faces, lit by the flickering light. Butterflies dance in my stomach as I heave the object out.
It’s a box wrapped in a muddied cloth. “Get ready, Papa … It’s heavy.”
I press the box, which is at least as long as my forearm, tight to my chest, hold myself firm on the bricks, and raise it as high as I can above my head, but Papa’s hands are still too far away.
“I can’t quite reach it, Asha, and there’s not enough room to climb in.”
“Papa, it’s really heavy,” I pant, my legs trembling. “I … I can’t hold it for much longer.”
“I’ll grab your legs,” says Jeevan’s papa to mine, “so you can lean in farther.”
“Someone’s going to get hurt,” cries Ma. “Just get Asha out.”
“Here, Papa.” I stretch as much as I can, pushing hard against the wet walls.
Papa’s hands grasp the box and he hoists it up out of the depths of the well. I let out a hot breath of relief.
“Come up quickly so we can see what it is,” says Jeevan,
