The Secret Keeper of Jaipur by Alka Joshi

15

NIMMI

Shimla

I run my hands over the smooth porcelain of the bathtub in Lakshmi’s guest bathroom. I’m in the bath with Rekha and Chullu. Rekha is fine on her own, but I have to hold on to Chullu with one hand while I soap him down with the other. There are two spouts. Every now and then, I turn the one on the left, as Lakshmi taught me, and more hot water magically appears! I’m used to the rice-bran-and-yak-fat soap our tribe makes, but Lakshmi’s soap is heavenly—it makes so many suds when mixed with water! And the scent! I feel as if I’m in the meadow collecting flowers.

When Chullu tries to put the bar of lavender soap in his mouth, I tease it out of his hands.

Rekha slaps her hands on the surface of the water to see how high she can make it jump.

Always before, when I came to Lakshmi’s house, I was so obsessed with Malik’s letters that I didn’t notice anything else. Now I realize every detail of her home has a purpose and a simple beauty. I see no point in comparing this house with my own simple lodging, but I can’t help feeling embarrassed, imagining what Malik must think when he visits me at my home. I’m thankful that he’s been there only at night, when it’s hard to see the cracks between the wooden planks of the walls.

I was watering the plants in the Healing Garden when Lakshmi arrived at the hospital this afternoon, after she’d delivered the gold to Canara. My children were nearby, playing in the dirt. No one else would have guessed she’d been up half the night removing gold bars from sheep. She had bathed and dressed in a sari to work her shift at the afternoon clinic, her hair in a neat bun at the back of her neck. She looked, as usual, alert.

“The whole flock has to be sheared tonight,” she said quietly. “The groundskeeper told Jay that the sheep have almost grazed the lower pasture clean. They need to be moved tomorrow. And we can’t have people speculating about their half-shorn fleece.”

I was wondering how I’d manage by myself when Lakshmi said, “Come to our house tonight. We’ll go together.”

My patal could cut cleanly and quickly, but it wasn’t meant for shearing sheep. The blade was too sharp and could nick their skin. I’d sheared sheep in the past, with my tribe, but it was a group activity, with everybody helping. I wasn’t sure that Lakshmi and I could do it by ourselves.

“Will Dr. Kumar help us, Ji?”

Lakshmi nodded. “He has to. Otherwise we’ll never get it done.” She gave me a reassuring smile, but I saw the worry in her eyes. “Do you think you can find someone to move the flock?”

That would be the easy part. I nodded. I wanted to ask the question that had been hovering on my lips for the past two days. Lakshmi had separated me from the second man I’d ever loved (the mountains had taken the first), and it had caused me so much pain. I finally asked her, “Why are you helping me?”

She looked surprised, as if she thought I should have known the answer. “You’re part of Malik’s life, Nimmi, and so you are a part of mine.” Then she turned to leave but stopped and spoke to me with her back turned. “Before I met Dr. Jay, Malik and my sister, Radha, were my only family, and both came late into my life. You’ve met Malik. Someday you’ll meet Radha and you’ll see how special she is. I would do almost anything—and have done what I can—to keep both of them safe and happy.” Finally, she turned to look at me, her gaze direct and unflinching. “As happy and safe as Malik wants to make sure you and the children are.”

In her blue, guileless eyes, I saw nothing but concern.

Then she frowned. “Suno. The men who’ve taken the gold are unhappy that two bars of gold are missing. The two bars we never found. I’d be more comfortable if you and the children stay with us for a while.”

This took me so much by surprise I wasn’t sure I’d understood. “Stay with you?” I asked. “In your house?”

She smiled. “That’s the idea.”

Looking at her clean sari and matching sweater blouse, I felt ashamed. I had not had time to wash my clothes with so much going on the last few days. I could feel my face grow warm. Rekha and Chullu were no cleaner. After all the work with the sheep the night before, I hadn’t had the energy to draw water, heat it, and wash the dirt and sweat off me or my children in our lodgings. Would she want our private grime to soil her home?

“You and the children can stay in Malik’s room. He has an adjoining bath.”

How is it that she always manages to read my mind?

“And I think it’s better, safer that you not sell flowers on the Shimla Mall until we get this sorted.”

My pulse quickened. “You think it’s that unsafe?”

“I do.”

A little while later, I took a break from my work in the Healing Garden and went to the waiting room, where I approached patients who were people of the hills, most likely shepherds—their homespun woolens and darker skin giving them away. One middle-aged man with a cloudy eye and half an ear missing said he could take our sheep to graze with his flock, north of here. I told him I’d let him know tomorrow where to find my brother’s sheep and described the notch on their ears so he could keep his sheep separate from my brother’s.

He smiled then, showing me his five teeth. “I don’t need to mark my sheep,” he said. “I know which sheep is which because I know their personalities. And every single one of them is ornery!”

The woman sitting next to him joined his laughter.

So tonight I find myself with Rekha and Chullu in Lakshmi and Dr. Jay’s house. I left work early to retrieve our few belongings from the Aroras’ so I could to take them to Lakshmi’s house. She’d asked me not to tell my landlords where we were going. Better, she said, to be safe. I didn’t like keeping things from them; they’ve been so kind. But Lakshmi has been right about most everything, so I left without saying goodbye to the old couple. It took only one trip; we don’t have much. Lakshmi said she’d send our clothes to the dhobi. I always wash my own clothes, but I didn’t want to say as much to Lakshmi. Perhaps she thinks I don’t clean them well enough.

Now the children are up in Malik’s bedroom with Lakshmi’s housekeeper, Moni. Lakshmi is putting on her boots and Dr. Kumar is buttoning up his wool jacket. Madho Singh is pacing on his perch. Every now and then he squawks, “The hand that feeds us is in danger of being bitten.”

I can tell by Dr. Kumar’s expression that he wishes we weren’t doing this. But just as Lakshmi will not put a child at risk, Dr. Kumar will never fail to protect Lakshmi. What choice does he have? She is determined. I want to apologize to him for the danger Vinay put us all in. But the mention of my brother’s name would only increase the tension in the room. I say nothing.

It’s eight o’clock at night, dusk, and we’re in the lower pasture, close to the edge of the forest, with Vinay’s flock. The ground has been mowed clean, and the sheep seem eager to be moved. Was it only yesterday we were here, collecting the gold? Then, I was preoccupied with the work to be done, hardly thinking about where we were. Tonight, the woods feel sinister. Tree branches resemble claws. Leaves whisper dark omens. Mulch on the forest floor smells of rot, death.

I show Lakshmi and Dr. Kumar how we shear the sheep.

I take one, turn her on her back and squat on the cloth I’ve spread on the ground so I can hold the animal between my knees. The sheep are used to being sheared and know they’ll feel much better when they’ve lost their heavy coat, so they lie still. The shepherd at the clinic this morning lent me two long-handled shears. I start by grabbing a handful of the wool on the sheep’s stomach and trim it with the shears. Once I’ve cleared this small area on the sheep’s belly, I know how close I can cut without grazing the skin, and the shearing goes much faster.

I keep going until I’ve sheared all the sheep’s fleece from the underside. Then I turn the animal on her side so I can shear the wool there, then I turn her once again to shear the other side. The work of shearing has a rhythm that can be soothing and, at times, hypnotic. It doesn’t take me long before I’ve finished with the body and can shear the legs.

I tell Lakshmi and Dr. Jay, “The best shearers get the fleece off in one piece. They can shear forty sheep in a day and never nick or cut the skin.”

When I’m done, I release the animal and gather the wool, showing the others how to twirl it all in a big ball. We’ll pack as much of the wool as we can on the horses and leave the rest here, to collect upon our return.

Lakshmi watches the process with fascination. I can tell she’s never seen this done. Dr. Kumar seems unfazed. Not only does he work with scalpels: he grew up in Shimla and has long watched shepherds doing this same task. I hand him the other borrowed shears.

But seeing and doing are different things. At first, the sheep are not relaxed in Dr. Kumar’s arms; they’re just not used to him. Soon enough he gets into a rhythm and is shearing almost as fast as I. Lakshmi finds the work more challenging; she doesn’t want to nick the sheep. They sense her hesitation, so they squirm and wiggle out of her grasp. As it grows darker, she decides to take on a different task: she holds two flashlights—one for the doctor and one for me—so we can get the work done as soon as possible.

After three hours, everything—the field and the surrounding forest—is pitch-black, illuminated only by the flashlights Lakshmi is holding.

My arms are fatigued from holding the sheep down, my legs are tired from squatting and my thumbs have blisters on them from handling the shears.

In the light of the flashlights, I can see Dr. Kumar’s face and know he’s every bit as tired as I am.

I’ve counted thirty-seven sheep, including Neela. Two more to go.

But the flashlights suddenly go dark.

I’m about to call out to Lakshmi when I feel her hand on my shoulder. That’s when I hear the voices. I see lights, like fireflies, blinking in the distance. Men are calling out to one another through the forest to the east. One man is shouting orders; others are answering his commands.

Lakshmi, Dr. Kumar and I stand still as tree trunks. I hold my breath.

Dr. Kumar whispers, “Nimmi, come with me.”

I rise from my squat.

“Lakshmi,” he whispers, “you stay here.”

He takes my hand and leads me away from the flock, toward the men. I don’t know what he’s up to, and I want to let go of his hand and run the other way, but his grasp is firm, and I have to trust that he knows what he’s doing.

We run a hundred yards in the dark. Then Dr. Kumar stops, turns my body so he’s facing me. He kisses me. I’m so startled I don’t know what I ought to feel. His lips are not as full as Malik’s, but they’re just as warm.

One of the men shines his torch on us. “Sir!” he calls out.

Another voice, this one with authority, shouts to us, “Stop where you are!”

And then we see him, and the others behind him: it’s the police.

The doctor turns, as if he’s as surprised as they are. “Captain?” he says. “I... What is this?”

There’s a pause, and then the captain moves into the light. He’s a gaunt man with a black mustache that only makes his scowl look more severe. Without his uniform he wouldn’t look quite so intimidating. His voice uncertain, he says, “Dr. Kumar?”

The doctor steps in front of me, as if he means to keep me hidden, or protect me. He lowers his head, doing his best to look ashamed. “What has brought you here?” he says. “You told me you were no longer doing night patrols in Shimla...”

The captain shines his flashlight over both of us. I stay behind the doctor, who now shields his eyes with one hand.

“Is this what I think it is?” the captain says. I hear the sly smile in his voice. The way he says it tells me that he’s putting on a show for his men.

“This is awkward,” Dr. Kumar says, apologetically. “Not to mention inconvenient.” The doctor chuckles.

Now the captain’s voice softens. “So this is why you asked me about smugglers running gold?”

Before I step out from behind the doctor, I undo a few hooks on the front of my blouse, putting my cleavage on display. I keep my eyes fixed on the ground. “We are sorry, Ji,” I say, “to trouble you.”

A few men snicker. The captain comes a little closer to me, and I’m hoping he’s more interested in what I’m showing him than what we might be doing with the sheep.

“I heard a rumor that this woman is living with you. But I didn’t believe it.”

Dr. Kumar attempts another embarrassed laugh. “News travels fast.”

“The mountains have ears, Doctor.”

“Ah, then the mountains have also told you that my wife is still living with me, too.”

Now the men laugh louder.

“Chup!”the captain tells his men, asserting his authority.

I fight the urge to look behind us, at Lakshmi, who must have heard this exchange. After everything she’s done for us, she has to listen to this disgusting talk!

Dr. Kumar looks at me, tenderly, as if I am the only thing that brings him joy. “We have to sneak away, you see,” he says. “This is the only time we can...”

He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a wad of rupees and insists the captain take them as a “gift.” “To make up for the trouble that we’ve caused you, Sahib.”

The captain clears his throat but doesn’t hesitate to take the rupees being offered. He dithers only a second before the money disappears inside his jacket pocket.

I pull on the doctor’s arm. “What about...you know?”

Dr. Kumar turns to me; one side of his face is lit up by the policeman’s flashlight, the other is in darkness. His expression is bewildered, and alarmed. He’s taken by surprise and seems to think that I’m about to undo everything he’s done to get us out of trouble.

“The gold,” I say, “just outside Shimla.” I give the captain a shy, apologetic glance. “The doctor doesn’t like to get people in trouble, Sahib.” I turn to the doctor again. “That business. What is it called? Can—Canra—?”

We’re both now looking at the captain. His head is tilted, his interest piqued.

“I remember now,”I say as if I’ve just remembered. “Canara!”

The captain says, “Canara?”

I lower my voice to a whisper. “Where they move the gold. But, Sahib, you must already be knowing about it.”

Hastily, the public servant clears his throat, glances at his men. Then he nods, several times. “Of course, of course. But how did you find out?”

Dr. Kumar pulls me to him, smiling. I can almost believe that he’s in love with me. “The mountains have ears.”

Now the doctor looks at the captain, then at me, and hastily puts his hands together in a namaste. “But please, Captain. Don’t tell my bibi. It would break her heart.”

“You can rely on me, Doctor. As for my men—” he glances behind him “—I can vouch for them.”

Bukwas!By tomorrow morning, the rumor mill will be working overtime at the hospital.

I wonder how Dr. Kumar will be able to hold his head up after this.