Fifteen Lanes (31 page)

“You keep it, Noor. Someday, when they’ve stopped looking for me, I want to be able to contact you.”

I pulled her into a fierce hug. “If you ever need anything …” My voice broke as I stifled a sob.

She pulled out of my arms and we faced each other. A lifetime of memories passed between us. She was dry-eyed, but her face twisted with the misery of our parting.

I wanted to see her out. She wouldn’t let me. We walked together to the end of the landing. I watched her disappear down a grand spiral staircase that looked built for a cinema heroine.

When I returned to our room Grace was sitting up in bed.

“Where’s Parvati?”

“She left.”

“Why?”

“You know what she did to Suresh.”

“VJ’s family is powerful. They could help her.”

“The risk is too great. She did a crime. Money cannot change that. And she is a low-caste girl. Money cannot change that either. There will be many who think that what Suresh
did to her was not so bad. They will want to punish Parvati. I know it is hard for you to understand, but for us things are not always easy.”

Grace looked down at her lap. I hoped I had not hurt her feelings.

“I have something to show you,” she said, a strange hesitancy in her voice.

She crossed her leg and hiked her dress up over her thigh. At first I saw only a mess of cuts and wondered what kind of accident could have left such wounds. I sat down next to her for a closer look. Only then did I realize the cuts formed words. It seemed impossible. I waited for an explanation.

“It’s an acrostic,” she said.

“What?”

“A kind of poem. We did them in middle school. You see, in one direction it forms the word
slut
and in the other, the first letter …”

Her words trailed off. She must have seen the look on my face. She had carved words into her own flesh. I thought of the many scars I’d seen on the girls and women in my community—I’d never seen anything like this.

“I am not understanding,” I said. “What is
hag
?”

“It’s like a witch.”

“And
term
?”

“I was going to write
terminal
, like
dead
. I changed my mind.”

“Why did you do this, Grace?”

“I was ashamed. I felt so alone.”

“But this …”

“It was stupid. It only made things worse. Now I have this to be ashamed of as well.”

“Do your parents know?”

“How can I disappoint them again?”

I wasn’t sure how to put my thoughts into words. I felt as if I were watching her standing on a bridge, looking over the side. She was safe for the moment but that could change in an instant; the desire to jump could become too strong.

“You must tell your parents,” I said.

“I know.” She sighed heavily.

We heard quick footsteps in the hallway and VJ rushed in through the open doorway.

“Where’s Parvati?” he demanded urgently. “The police are here!”

I told VJ about Parvati’s disappearance on our way downstairs. He led the way into a large living room with seating for at least thirty people. I wondered if the cops felt as intimidated as I did. There were three of them seated on one side of the room. Across an expanse of Persian silk carpet sat VJ’s dad and a stunning woman who must have been his mom. VJ’s parents stood up when we entered and greeted us warmly. VJ sat next to them and Noor and I took seats nearby.

“As I was saying,” VJ’s mother said firmly, “you cannot question these children until their parents arrive.”

My heart jumped out of my chest. Had she called my parents already? I wasn’t sure I was ready to talk to them.

“At this time we only need to speak to the girl Parvati,” said the oldest policeman. “Are you Parvati?” he asked Noor.

“No, she’s not,” said VJ. “We don’t know where Parvati is.”

“When did you last see her?”

VJ hesitated.

“She left many hours ago,” said Noor.

“Do you know Suresh Asari?” The officer’s tone became considerably less polite when he addressed Noor.

“Yes, he is the boy who raped my fourteen-year-old friend and made her do sex work.”

The officer was momentarily thrown off balance by Noor’s directness. “Do you have proof of this?” he demanded flatly.

“Why? Will you charge him?” Her face gave nothing away.

“You were seen at the encampment under the Grant Road Bridge tonight.”

Noor eyed him calmly.

“Suresh Asari was found murdered shortly after you left.”

“This has gone far enough,” said VJ’s dad. “If you have further questions, you may speak to my lawyer.”

“That’s fine, Mr. Patel, but you have no rights over this girl. We’re taking her with us.”

“This child is a victim,” snapped VJ’s dad. “You aren’t taking her anywhere without me.”

“The only victim here is a murdered boy under a bridge.”

“She’s just told you that the child you’re looking for was raped and trafficked!” VJ’s mom exploded.

“We have only her word, and what does she know of these things?”

“I grew up in a house where minor girls do sex work,” snapped Noor.

“And where would that be?” The officer leaned toward Noor, while one of his younger colleagues flipped open a notebook and prepared to write.

Noor was slow to answer. She looked from the officers to me and back again.

“What will you do if I tell you?”

“We will raid the establishment.” He seemed to think this answer would please her. It didn’t. Her face was wreathed in anxiety.

“What will you do with the women who are working there?”

“If they’re not minors and haven’t been involved in trafficking, they’ll be released.”

“They will not be charged for doing sex work?” she asked suspiciously.

“No.”

“I want to get Shami and Aamaal out,” she said to me. “Pran will be very angry at my escape. He may hurt them. And I need to save Lali-didi. What do you think I should do?”

Though I didn’t entirely understand Noor’s distrust of police, I understood her struggle. Her mother and her community might disown her for instigating a police raid.

“This may be your best chance to get justice.”

Noor stood up and addressed the officers. “I will tell you where I live. But I must go too.”

VJ and his parents stood as well. “I’ll go with you,” said VJ.

“No, you won’t,” said his parents in unison.

“I’ll go,” said VJ’s father. “Noor, you will ride with me.”

The senior officer started to object but VJ’s father raised his hand. “It’s not negotiable.”

“I’d like to come,” I said.

“Your parents will be here any minute,” said VJ’s mom. “You must be here when they arrive.” My heart plummeted.

I walked Noor to the front door and gave her a hug. “Good luck,” I said.

“You too.” She gave me a meaningful look.

I went back and sat down. VJ’s mom left the room, saying she was going to organize breakfast.

“When my parents come, would you mind leaving us alone?” I asked VJ.

“Of course,” he said. I was grateful he didn’t ask for an explanation.

Minutes later we heard voices coming down the hall. A servant showed my parents in. They rushed to me, enveloping me in a family hug.

“I’ll go see how my mom’s doing with that breakfast,” said VJ.

We sat together on the couch, Mom and Dad on either side of me.

“Gracie, why did you lie to us?” demanded my mom before I had a chance to speak. “You should have told us what was going on last night. You could have been killed.”

This was so far from what I was worrying about that I was momentarily thrown.

“Mom,” I said, taking a deep breath, “there are a lot of things that I should have told you.”

I crossed my ankle over my thigh and hitched up my dress.

Mom gasped. Dad was perfectly silent. I couldn’t bear to look at either of them, so I looked at what I’d done.

I wondered if the scars would be there for the rest of my life, like my topless image on the Internet. Was it yet another thing I’d have to explain to my own teenage daughter someday?

Finally I peeped at my mother. Her face was rigid with shock. She was barely holding it together. I put my arms around her and was relieved that she hugged me back.

“I’m so sorry, Gracie. How did I let all this slip past me?”

“Give me a little credit, Mom. I’m a teenager. Slipping things past you is what I live for.”

“Grace, that’s not funny!” Her voice sounded more like her, though, so it couldn’t have been unfunny.

I marshaled the courage to pull out of my mom’s arms and looked at my dad sitting silently on the other side of me.

I wish I hadn’t.

Tears were streaming down his face.

“My baby girl,” he said miserably.

“Aw, Dad, you’re such a dork.” We hugged, and stayed like that for a long time.

Freedom …

The minute we entered the outskirts of Kamathipura I began to question whether I was doing the right thing. All my life experience told me police were the bad guys. I’d seen them take bribes from the overlords who controlled us, while arresting and abusing the people I cared about. How would this time be any different?

As Sanjay Patel’s silver Porsche cruised down our narrow lane, I felt every person on the street watching me. Our small lane was already clogged with police cars. It seemed the entire force was converging on my home, though the ones who’d arrived before us had only the lane number. They milled about impatiently peering in every open doorway.

I jumped out the second our car stopped, not even thanking Vijender’s father. My only thought was to disappear into the crowd in the vain hope that no one would know I was the traitor. Despite what the cops said, I knew the aunties, and even
my own mother, would be arrested along with Pran and Binti-Ma’am, even if it was only temporary. Brothels were illegal. The cops weren’t going to take the time to figure out who were the victims and who were the criminals.

Unfortunately, my role in the raid was not yet over. A cop caught me before I got very far and hauled me back to the officer in charge.

“Is this your house?” he demanded.

I was so terrified I could only nod.

He put a loudspeaker to his mouth. “Let’s go!” he shouted to the legions of cops flanking him.

It seemed impossible that so many people could fit inside our house but they stormed the door with purpose, rushing in like a rising tide. I tried to follow but was held back, so I watched in horror as, one after another, everyone I loved was dragged out in handcuffs. The women who shared my room were among the last. The awkward access, up and down our narrow ladder, must have slowed the cops, but it didn’t deter them.

Prita-Auntie was first. She frothed at the mouth she was so enraged. It took three men to get her in a van. She kicked one of them in his private parts. I cringed to imagine how he might retaliate when they got her to the station.

Ma was next. She was too weak to fight.

“It’s my ma,” I screamed, struggling with the cop who was holding me. He seemed to understand and let me go. I rushed to her, putting my arms around her waist. It wasn’t my intention to impede her captors but only beg her forgiveness, but they pulled me off her and threw me to the ground.

“Ma,” I cried, prostrate on the pavement, as she was hustled past. “I’m sorry, Ma!”

“Find Aamaal and Shami!” she shouted. She struggled. One of the cops lost his grip. She looked back at me. “Keep them safe.”

I scrambled to my feet and raced after her. “I’m sorry,” I cried. I needed her to understand. “I’m sorry.”

Both cops had hold of her again. They half-pushed, half-lifted her into the back of the van to join Prita-Auntie. Prita-Auntie was crying now. She looked scared. Ma stumbled and fell to her knees, off balance with her hands cuffed behind her. For a moment she just sat on the floor, defeated, as if she hadn’t the energy to lift herself onto the bench. I tried to climb in to help her but one of the cops shoved me aside.

“It’s my ma!” I screamed, but he held me fast.

“Leave me,” Ma shouted. “I’m all right. Go!”