Boys without Names (18 page)

He is ready to step out with a sack full of boxes when
he stops, turns around, and puts the sack down. Then he takes out the bottle and gives me a few more pills. “In case he needs one more or someone else gets sick.” Scar seems pleased with me and I hope he will send me out again.

“Yes, Boss.”

“Make sure that lazy boy keeps on working.”

“I will, Boss.”

He lifts up the sack and leaves again.

The key clicks in the lock.

O
ver the next few days, I give Sahil the pills and Roshan gives him tender
nimba
leaves. Sahil's fever goes down. Roshan insists we also chew the
nimba
leaves to stay healthy. Amar protests. “I am not a goat or a cow. Why do I have to eat the leaves?”

We all laugh at his smart excuse, but we make sure he eats them.

Sahil returns to sticking beads. He rocks back and forth, back and forth. It is hard to tell if he has lost weight or not, because he was so skinny to begin with. His eyes don't shimmer like the pond at sunrise, though. Barish lets him sleep a little longer in the morning, and if Scar leaves during the day, Sahil takes a break.

Also, every night I tell a story. Not about what I used to do but a made-up one like the Giant and calves, Timid
Rabbit, or Akbar and Birbal story. GC has been good, but I don't trust him like Barish does. It is like giving monkeys a ladder. They will always climb it.

Every day, I wait for Scar to send me out for an errand. If he does I will talk to someone on the street and ask them to help us. I know Scar will send GC with me, but as long as I don't run away GC won't complain. And I know I can't run away alone. If I do my friends would be punished and I can't allow that. My freedom will be nothing if they are beaten and hurt. But if I get the chance to go out I can ask someone to help us. If I can get Scar's pencil I can write a note and slip it to someone. That way we can all be rescued together.

 

It has been three weeks since Scar sent me out to get medicine. Since then he has not asked me or anyone else to run errands. Sometimes I am mad at myself. Like a branch swaying in the wind my mind goes back and forth with thoughts. Scar may never allow me out again. I should have tried harder and not let GC catch me. Maybe I should have run away while he paid for the medicine. But if I had escaped, Scar would have punished the other boys. And maybe Sahil would have gotten sicker. Jatin knows where I live, so Scar would have come after my family and me as he said he would.

I am happy Sahil has recovered, and also thankful that none of us got ill. It is easy to take care of one sick person and divide up his work among five healthy ones.
But if three or four of us had gotten ill, I don't know what we would have done. Then Scar probably would have kicked the sick ones out on the street. No one has family in Mumbai except for me. Without medicine, money, and no one to take care of them, what would happen to them? The thought gives me goose bumps.

For the first few days after GC and I went out to get the medicine, I was worried that GC would tell Scar I tried to run away. But I know GC has not complained, because Scar has not punished me. He continues to call me by my name and in fact, since I ran the errand, Scar has given me other jobs to do. Sometimes he asks me to make morning tea and clean up after him. Often he wants me to count the number of frames and gives me multiplication to do. When I give him the answer he pulls out a pencil, writes down the number on a scrap of paper, and slips them both into his pocket. I do all the jobs carefully to gain his confidence and wait for him to give me another outside errand.

Slowly, GC has become part of the group. He hasn't told his story but he does listen to ours. All day we work, but at night when we turn on the flashlight and share the stories, it feels like we are a family, and I think about how we can all escape together. With GC on our side it should be easy to make a plan and carry it out. We will have only one chance, though, so we have to work this out so well that it can't fail. As I think of the ways to get out of here, a story I had made up comes to my mind.

“I have a new story to tell,” I say when we are done with our work.

“What is it called?” Amar asks, clapping his hands.

“‘The Ants and the Jackal.'”

“Hav-have you told it to anyone? Roshan asks.

“Yes, to my twin brother and sister, Naren and Sita, many times,” I say.

“Oh, I like the title. Come, let's sit down and listen,” Amar says.

When we get in a circle I turn the flashlight on. “Once there was a colony of ants who lived near the edge of a forest under a great big
nimba
tree. One day a jackal came and told the ants, ‘Move from here and make room for me.' The ants were puzzled. ‘We have been here for a long time. We don't bother anyone and no one bothers us. There is enough place for you to stay, too.'”

“I can guess what happens,” Amar says.

Barish puts his hand on Amar's mouth.

“The jackal gave a smile, baring his sharp teeth. ‘Are you telling me what to do? I like the exact spot where your home is, so scat, scatter, and stay out of my way,' he said.

“The ants were scared. ‘There is nothing we can do against such a big enemy,' one of them said.

“‘We will have to leave our home and find a new place,' others said. It was time to say good-bye to the tree and move away.

“When they thanked the
nimba
tree for letting them stay for such a long time, the tree asked, ‘Don't you like it here? Why do you want to leave?'

“The ants told the tree about the jackal. ‘He is big and we are little. If we don't obey his order he will crush us under his paws.'”

By now Amar is bouncing his bent legs. Like Naren he has a hard time staying quiet. “Then what happened?” he asks.

“The tree fluttered its leaves softly. ‘It is true that the jackal is big and you are small, but he is one and you are many.'

“Puzzled, they asked, ‘How can that help us?'

“‘Think of yourself as one and attack together. You will defeat him.'

“The ants liked the idea and they made a plan. The next day, when the jackal saw that the ants had not moved, he was furious. He padded close to the anthill. The ants were ready. Before he could say or do anything, thousands of them crawled onto him and started stinging. ‘Stop biting, leave me alone!' he screamed. But the ants kept on stinging.

“The jackal dashed forward, he walked backward. He wiggled his body this way and that way. He even tried to bounce but nothing helped him. ‘Please, please, please! I will move from here, right now,' he pleaded.

“And that is how the ants drove the jackal out, and—”

“So we are the ants and Boss is a jackal, and we must sting him?” GC asks before I finish my sentence. There is something—like a challenge in his voice that makes me nervous.

“It is a story,” I say.

“It is not just a story, Gopal. You want us to get rid of Boss.”

Maybe I shouldn't have shared this story. My heart thumps with fear. What if GC tells Scar I am planning an attack on him? “You don't share your stories, and when I tell one, you tell me what it means? You want me to get in trouble with Boss, that is all.”

“How can I do that? You have become Boss's
chamcha
. He even calls you by your real name,” GC says.

“I didn't ask him to.”

“No, it is more like you wiggled your way in like a worm. Barish, now that Gopal has taken your place do you feel like a family?”

Barish doesn't reply. I wonder if he is also jealous of me. Even if he isn't, GC's pointing out that I have replaced Barish might make him angry with me.

“Why-why do you fight?” Roshan asks GC.

“You all have fallen under Gopal's spell. One day he will run away and leave us behind to be beaten up.”

Roshan's lashes flutter in fear. “I-I don't want that.”

Amar stomps his fist. “Gopal will never do that.”

I go to bed, unsure of what GC might do. Ever since Sahil got sick GC has acted friendly, but tonight the way
he reacted to my story makes me nervous. I don't know if he is on our side or not. He has scared Roshan and pointed out to Barish that I am taking his place.

Now I am worried about Barish also.

A
s soon as Scar comes in the morning, he claps and shouts my name. There is something in his voice that turns my mouth metallic with fear. Everyone looks at me. Sahil's fingers start tapping. GC hasn't even seen Scar this morning so it is not about the story I shared last night. I am puzzled.

Scar paces the room.

When he sees me he stops, picks up frames from his bench, and shoves them into my hands. “Look at these! They are messed up. Because of that, we may not get any reorders from the customer. Do you remember who did these?” All three have the same pattern—instead of blue flowers, someone has used bluish-green beads and they don't match the blue borders. Sahil did those.

“I made them.”

“Are you lying?”

“No.” I look him in the eye for a split second.

“Don't make such a stupid mistake again.”

The weight lifts from my chest and I can breathe again. “I won't.”

I turn around to go up and that is when something hits my bare legs. My knees buckle; I bang my head on the ladder and fall down. Scar stands over me with a sinister smile. His cross-eyed stare reminds me of the day I came here and fills me with dread.

“Stop wasting time!” he shouts.

I grit my teeth and amble up the ladder, rubbing my forehead to avoid a bump. It doesn't work. I can feel a painful lump. While I glue beads, pain and anger pulsate through my head. I am going to get to Scar and make him pay for this.

 

Scar calls GC and Barish to help him. Will Scar ask them about the frames? Maybe I shouldn't have lied. I try to listen but I can't hear anything—not even a word.

When they come up Barish tells Roshan, “Go down. Boss wants you to trim his hair.”

Since I came here this is the first time Scar has asked Roshan for a haircut. At lunch I notice Scar's back hair short and trimmed while his front is long and sparse. He has combed it in such a way as to cover his bald spot, but it doesn't seem to work.

Scar leaves right after he gives us food, saying he will
return soon. When I go down to get some frames, I see a pencil beneath his wooden bench that he must have dropped. Quickly, I bend down, pick it up, and slip it into my pocket.

GC follows. “You shouldn't have done that,” he says.

Did he see me take the pencil? I don't know. “Done what?” I ask.

“Lied about who did the work.” He looks at the frames sitting on Scar's bench. “Those are Sahil's and I heard you say you did those. You are in trouble.”

“I didn't think—”

“Boss knows. He always does. He was testing you.”

“Did he ask Barish and you about it?”

GC doesn't answer me. A shiver weakens my spine. Even though he is quiet I'm sure Scar must have talked to them.

When I start work my hand shakes as I pick up the beads.

 

Clap! “All of you come down. I have something to show you,” Scar says upon his return.

When we gather around him, he glances over to the back door. As always, it is locked. The windows are closed. Scar is holding the coiled brown tube he used to beat Sahil and me. I step back.

“Remember this? This is to keep you honest.” He lets go of one end and the thing rolls open. He raises his hand and then brings it down. It makes a sound,
satak
, as it hits the floor.

My hands curl up in fists to trap what little courage I have left.

“You need a reminder, so watch this. Gopal, come here,” Scar says.

One of my friends gasps as I stand before Scar. He raises the tube again. “Turn around, lift up your shirt, and bend over.”

I follow his order and turn to face my group. I close my eyes and hold my breath.
Satak
, the tube comes down on my bare back. I whimper.

“No!”
Sahil screams.

“The boy gets one more lash because you screamed.”

Satak!

A ribbon of sting burns my back. Tears roll from my squeezed-shut eyes.

“Did Gopal make these frames?” Scar roars.

Silence.

“Tell me the truth or you all get punished.”

GC takes a step forward. “Boss, he didn't make those frames.”

Scar lifts up the tube.
Satak, satak,
I get two more lashes.

My entire back is on fire and it sizzles and throbs with pain. I feel something warm sliding down. Blood. When I open my eyes, blurry red and yellow spots dance in front of me. I hold on to a wall for support.

“You do this again and not only you but your family
will pay for it. How would you like it if I beat up your twin brother and sister, Naren and Sita? Or should I bring them here to work with you?” Scar shouts.

How does he know about Naren and Sita? It must be Barish or GC who told him that I have a brother and a sister. Why did I trust them and tell the stories to the group? How stupid, careless, and gullible I have been! Now I have put the twins in danger. If Scar tells them that he knows where I am they will follow him like pet monkeys. Oh, what have I done!

GC must have told Scar about my family. That is why when I asked GC he didn't answer me. Maybe it was Barish, because he is afraid I have taken his place. I wonder if they have told Scar about the ant and jackal story. I turn to glance at them to see if I can tell from their faces, but before I can do that, another
satak
whips across my back. I use all my strength to stop from falling.

The phone rings. Scar pulls the phone from his pocket. As he listens, he tosses the tube down. I breathe in relief.

“We can fill the order, and I will make sure he does them.”

He clicks the red button, puts the phone down on the bench, and coils the rubber tube. “Get back to work. All of you.”

I take a step. Scar grabs my upper arm. “Stay.”

When everyone has gone up, he gives me a tumbler of water. After I take a couple of sips, Scar says, “I'll have
a new job for you tomorrow. Do it right and make me happy.”

He asks me to make him happy after what he did to me? I want to throw the tumbler against his forehead, kick his belly, spit on his face. I want to draw his blood like he has drawn mine. I want to turn him into a cockroach. Instead, my eyes fix on Scar's polished sandal. I don't want him to walk out of here and go to Jama's neighborhood. Scar has hurt me, but he can crush me more, a lot more, by snatching Naren and Sita. I gulp down my fear and steady my voice before I reply. “I will.”

Scar is watching me as I clutch my shirt and the tumbler. I climb up slowly.

When I bend over my wooden desk, my back screams with pain. I sit shirtless because I don't want it to rub against my raw skin. My heart feels even more raw. Scar hurt my back, but that will heal. GC has betrayed me. Why did he have to tell Scar I lied? Scar knew that anyway. Maybe GC wants to take my place and this is the way to do it. And GC or Barish—whoever told Scar about Naren and Sita—has hurt me even more.

None of us are happy today, except maybe GC. Sahil mixes a new batch of glue and it burns my eyes and stings my nose. My throat turns scratchy. Even the scent of
nimba
can't get rid of the stink. We breathe the gluey air and keep our hands busy. The room is stifling, and yet there is the chill of silence. Our sadness is as solid and
stubborn as a buffalo sitting in the middle of a lane. It won't budge soon.

Scar turns on the TV. He watches a funny movie and his laughter rises up like smokestacks. “Ha, ha-ha, ha, ha.”

 

After Scar leaves, Amar puts his arms around my neck. His tears wet my skin. He stares at GC. “Why did you tell Scar that Gopal lied?”

“I had to.”

“No you didn't. None of us did,
sacch na
?” Sahil says.

“I-I want to-to…” Roshan is so upset he can't even finish his sentence.

I look GC in the eyes. “So when you know a secret you spill it out?”

GC shrugs and glances at Barish. Have they planned this together? I can't tell. GC stands like a statue and his gray eyes go blank. I want to yell, shake, and hit him.

Barish is the only one who hasn't said a word. It makes me believe that he and GC are in it together. Sahil spreads my jute sack on the floor. Barish covers it with his long-sleeved shirt. I want to fling his shirt away and ask him to tell me the truth, but I don't have strength left.

Tears roll down my face.

We turn the naked bulb off and go to bed. I lie on my stomach. We are not a group anymore. It feels as bad as the day Jatin tricked me and brought me here. There is no
flashlight, no
kahanis
, and no laughter tonight.

Oh, why did I share my stories? I thought they would glue us workers together as a group, but instead they have spun a web and trapped me. I thought
kahanis
were my friends, but they are my enemies. They have ruined me.

Sahil combs my hair with his fingertips like Aai used to, to soothe me when I was upset. It always worked. Tonight, Sahil falls asleep before I do, with his fingers stuck in my hair. I gently move his hand away.

 

“Gopal, are you up? Gopal?” GC whispers.

Silence.

“If you are awake talk to me, please. I can explain everything,” GC pleads.

Since the others are asleep, he can't shout. After asking the same question three times, he sighs.

In the moonlight that pours through the window, I see him get up and come to me. “Let's talk, Gopal,” he pleads.

I stay quiet.

“I am so sorry Scar hit you.”

Anger explodes from every pore of my body.

“You're not sorry. You didn't have to—”

“Listen,” he says sharply. But his voice is soft when he speaks again. “I had to complain to Scar against you, don't you see? He knows Sahil and you have become friends and will protect each other. Scar was looking at everyone's expression when he hit you the first time.
Amar closed his eyes. Roshan put his hands on his mouth to smother a scream and Barish looked distressed. At least one of us had to speak against you to fool Scar. Even when I got you in trouble I knew what I was doing. I was saving us all from Scar's suspicion. The last thing I want is for him to know we are friends. He will scatter us.”

He may scatter us anyway, I think. The
nimba
leaves rustle. I look out the window. Moonlight streams through the window in narrow bands, but my face is in the shadow. “You're lying.”

“What? That the others reacted this way?”

I was bending over, but Scar would have noticed them.

“He's a lot smarter than he lets on,” GC adds.

“Why would he want to act dumber than he is?”

“Because it is to his advantage. And it is better for us to let Scar think we are enemies.”

That stops me. Is GC telling the truth? Did he try to protect us? It could be that GC is making me believe Scar is dangerous so he can get me in trouble again. He still might be playing a trick. GC has not mentioned Barish. And even if I ask GC if he told Scar about Naren and Sita he will deny it. There is so much more GC is hiding than what he is telling me.

He reminds me of the pond in monsoon—you never know where it is deep enough to suck you in, shallow enough to splash in. I don't trust him and it is best to stay away from him. “I'm tired,” I say, and lie back down on my stomach.

He returns to his sack. Only after I hear his heavy and even breathing do I take out the pencil from my pocket, slip it into my folded raincoat, and close my eyes. But the pain in my back keeps me awake for a long time. I play over the talk GC and I had in my head as if I am reciting times tables for Mr. Advale.

I realize Barish probably didn't tell Scar about the twins because I know his secret, and he wouldn't want Scar to know it. So it has to be GC. I am almost sure.

The pain comes in waves and I have to shut my eyes tight to hold my scream in. When a wave subsides I try to think of a way to escape. If I could write a message asking for help and throw it out the window, will someone pick it up, read it, and come to rescue us? It is unlikely but I must try. When I get a chance I must get a piece of newspaper that has a lot of blank space. Maybe that is my only hope for freedom.

Finally, when sleep comes, it is dense and I can't find any dreams in it.

 

I wake up with blazing pain. I roll to the side, draw my legs up, and sit up slowly.

“Your skin!” Sahil cries. “It is redder than it was yesterday.”

“And more raw,” Amar adds.

GC goes down and brings back a tumbler of yellow water. “Drink this turmeric water. It will help you heal faster. It is my grandmother's remedy.”

First he gets me beaten up and now he offers me his special medicine? I'm so mad I want to throw the yellow water in his face and stain his clothes. But I remember Aai used to apply turmeric paste if I scraped my knee, and she gave turmeric and salt water to Naren when he had a cough. It can't hurt to drink it. I take the tumbler and wrap my hands around it. The taste of turmeric-infused water is worse than Scar's tea.

Silently Roshan plucks
nimba
leaves, tears them in small pieces, adds water, and applies them to my back. It feels like a thousand bee stings. I sit by the fan so it dries quickly.

I put my shirt on and go downstairs to rinse my tumbler before Scar comes.

 

Today, Scar gives me a new batch of frames to make. They are made of better wood and the beads are even and clear. “If you do a good job with these higher-quality frames, you will be rewarded,” he says.

I don't want to be rewarded. All I want is freedom.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Yes, Boss.”

“Work hard and fast.”

Of course, so you can make more money.
“I will.”

I work as fast and as carefully as I can, which takes my mind off the pain. But I can't escape the weight of distrust and the grimness of our group. They gag me. What made this place bearable was to know we were a family
who cared for one another. The stories have vanished as if someone put a curse on them. I miss them, and yet I don't want them.