The Secret Keeper of Jaipur by Alka Joshi

13

NIMMI

Shimla

Rekha watches me as I pace the floor of our room. In her lap is the book about monkeys Lakshmi-ji loaned her. She loves looking at the pictures and sounding out the names of the different kinds of monkeys.

“Do your studies,” I tell her. She’s read the monkey book so often she has memorized it. “Write the words down exactly as you see them in the book.”

“Do it with me, Maa,” she says.

Chullu is sitting with Neela the sheep, who is busy munching on a leaf. Chullu pets her, then rolls over her. The sheep has won them over and my children want her to stay home with us, so I brought her here from the lower pasture. Watching the animal now, I think about the gold hidden under her fleece. What, exactly, does it look like? The women of my tribe wear silver, but I’ve seen gold jewelry on other women. I’ve never seen a solid brick of gold.

I reach for the patal that hangs from my waist belt next to a coil of rope and a goatskin water bag. I test the sharpness of the blade. I use this patal to cut vegetables and fruit, branches, wood—anything and everything. I pick Chullu up and set him next to Rekha on the cot, where he tries to cram her monkey book into his mouth.

I approach Neela, gently. She stops chewing and watches me. She bleats, then stands, now wary. I run my hand over her fleece to find the hard mound opposite her injured flank. Then I find the edges of the wool that have been sewn shut and cut the stitches carefully, keeping Neela in place with an elbow. Two bars of gold, each five inches long, two inches wide and half an inch thick fall to the ground with a thud. The sound scares Neela, and she struggles under my grasp. I let her go.

The gold is a dull color. It isn’t beautiful, as I’d thought it would be. Someone has written numbers on the bars. They’re heavy and surprisingly warm. The silver our tribe wears is cooler to the touch. To think anyone would kill for a lump of dull yellow metal!

A knock on the door startles me. I gather up the gold bars and look for someplace I can hide them. My bedroll is within reach, and I quickly stuff the bars under it before I go to see who’s at the door.

It’s Lakshmi. She’s still in the same clothes she was wearing this morning. She has deep circles under her eyes and her hair is loose around her face; it hasn’t been oiled. She looks exhausted. I tell her to come in and close the door behind her.

“Tomorrow, we will deliver the gold to that place,” she says. She’s speaking in a whisper.

“The place on the matchbox?” I ask.

She nods and rubs her forehead. “But first we must think how to remove the gold from the sheep and carry it from the hospital’s lower pasture to Canara.”

“Where is it? The business?”

“About four miles from here, just outside the city.”

“Which direction?”

Lakshmi points with her chin to the east.

I think I know that area; it’s where I go sometimes to pick the mountain flowers that I sell. That gives me an idea. I get up and find my flower basket—the large one I use at my stall. Then I take the gold bars from under the bedroll and put them in the empty basket. When Lakshmi sees the gold, her eyes grow wide. Then she looks at Neela and the patch of fleece that’s open on her side.

How much can the basket hold? “We have thirty-eight sheep,” I say, “counting Neela, thirty-nine. If each sheep is carrying four bars, two on each side, that would add up to one hundred fifty-six bars. But two are missing, so it’s actually one hundred fifty-four.” I don’t know how to read, or write my numbers, but I do know how to count them in my head.

Lakshmi takes a bar from the basket and weighs it in her hand. She’s used to mixing natural remedies, calculating the correct proportion of ingredients. “Each bar is slightly different, but the one I’m holding is about two ounces. It would sell for maybe six, seven hundred rupees.”

“So that would mean...” I look at Lakshmi, my hand flying to my chest. I can feel my heart thumping against my palms. Now I know why smugglers take the risk of smuggling. All the bars, together, add up to about a hundred thousand rupees! Hai Shiva! It starts to sink in just how serious, how trecherous this business is. Lakshmi tried to tell me all along—how crazy it would be, how foolhardy to return the gold to people who would sooner cut their mother’s throat than do without their treasure. I should have listened to her.

“We have to get it out of here,” I say. I look at my children, who have heard the panic in my voice and are staring at me with open mouths.

Lakshmi sees my patal. “Is that what you used to open the seams?”

“Hahn.”I put the sharp tool back in its slot on my belt.

She presses her lips together, frowning, and looks at Neela. I know she’s calculating how much time it will take to remove the gold from the sheep. She’s good at making plans. She’s organized every section of the garden according to what kind of soil the plants need, how much water they require, how much fertilizer. The garden is efficient and well-ordered. Like everything Lakshmi does.

She nods, decisively, as if she has made up her mind. “We have no choice. We have to remove the gold tonight. The groundskeepers at the hospital will all have gone home.”

I notice the tired lines under her eyes.She’s done so much already—trekking up and down the mountains, carting my brother’s body to Shimla, riding to that business on the outskirts of town. Now it’s dark outside. And cold.

We aren’t of her blood. Yet, she’s willing to do more.

Lakshmi moves to the door. “Meet me at my house in a half hour. Bring Neela, please.”

“Ji, when was the last time you ate? I made chapatti and palak subji tonight. You should have some before you go.”

I often hold back the respectful Ji with her. I see her soften. She smiles to thank me for my offer but she shakes her head. “I have to figure out how I’m going to explain all this to Jay—Dr. Kumar. I had to tell him what we’ve found. He’s concerned, of course. And I have to work out how we’ll bring the gold from the pasture. Chandra is worn out. I’m not sure I could ask him to do any more today.”

I nod. “I’ll ask the Aroras to look after the children.”

She smiles faintly. “Tell them I need you at the hospital tonight. It won’t be a lie.”