The Bandit Queens (27)

EIGHT


“Where have you been?”

Geeta set the dog near her bed and turned to Farah. The bare overhead bulb was unkind to them both. Farah was wrecked and Geeta was disheveled, her hair frizzy, her face oily. Both she and the dog would have greatly benefited from a bath. Farah held yet another gourd. Geeta accepted it.

“What the hell happened to your face?”

“Where have you been? Is that hay in your hair?”

“Did Samir do this?” It was a foolish question, but she needed time.

“Where have you been all day? And why do you have a mutt?”

“I was in Kohra.”

Farah’s shoulders relaxed. “Oh, right. Of course. Sorry. So then, you got the stuff!”

“Partly.”

“Meaning?”

“I have the daru in the kitchen, take it. But I couldn’t manage the rat poison.”

“Geetaben! That’s, like, the most important part!”

At Farah’s ire, the dog lifted his head to growl his disapproval, lips bared as his caret ears canted back. He sniffed the air above him, dark nose wiggling. Farah startled at the sound. Geeta watched her body tense; she seemed as uncomfortable around dogs as Saloni had been as a child. He rose to his fours, which Geeta would have taken as a sign of improvement, except he then ran his snout straight into one of the cot legs and crumpled, sniffing the floor. His soiled tail curled around himself in a weak fence.

Farah’s frown was skeptical. “What’s wrong with it?”

“He’s blind.”

“Oh. So how come you didn’t get the poison?”

“That Karem fool wouldn’t leave me alone and I couldn’t very well buy it in front of him.”

“Karembhai? Why were you with him?”

“He had a ride to town.”

“Couldn’t you have ditched him for, like, two minutes to buy it?”

Geeta’s spine prickled. She was defensive because she felt guilty, parading around town with Karem like a carefree teenager while Samir was making Farah’s backbone and ribs one. He’d come for her and her money next, she reminded herself. “Don’t you think I would’ve if I could’ve? What, you think I liked hanging out with him all day, following me around like a dog? No, it was…annoying.”

“Okay, okay.”

“I mean it,” Geeta pressed, her mouth running even though she knew it was more credible to leave well enough alone. Even girls in the fifth standard knew protesting more only exacerbated matters. “Very annoying.”

“Geetaben,” Farah said, rolling her eyes. “You don’t have to prove anything to me, okay? I may be illiterate, but I’m not a moron. I know no chakkar is going on between you and”—Here Farah started laughing, and Geeta found that she was insulted, incredibly so, as she had been in the appliance shop—“Karembhai.”

“And just why the hell not?”

“The man’s no saint. I mean, he’s plenty handsome, very much a pigeon fancier.”

“A what?”

“You know,” Farah said with a sly turn of her hand. “With the lay-deez. Great head of hair—Samir goes on about it all the time, he’s so jealous it’s pathetic, and I’m like: ‘What did you expect? Your father was bald as a marble, na?’ Not that I actually say that, can you imagine?—sorry, ahem, right. Anyway, Karembhai goes to town to get his…needs handled. But you’re—you’re not like that, Geetaben, you’re about business, not mixing in the dirt. Aboveboard, you know? Sidhi-sadhi.” At Geeta’s clear displeasure, Farah sighed. “I’m complimenting you.”

“It’s fine,” Geeta said abruptly, more to herself than Farah. The flash of hurt she’d experienced upon hearing of Karem’s exploits was only because, above all else, she hated feeling like a fool. She decided not to care whether the rumor mill found her to be a viable prospect for Karem, because really, it made no difference. Cradling an ego, she told herself, was as useless as throwing water into the sea. “We can’t wait any longer. We need to improvise the poison.”

“How?”

“Give me a minute.” Geeta sat on her mattress, worrying her earlobe in thought. She let the dog lick the fingers of her free hand while Farah paced. Each time he sensed Farah’s passing, his lips curled, his snarl reverberating.

“Shouldn’t it be outside?”

“He can’t see.”

“So it’s just gonna live with you?”

“I didn’t say that. But he’ll sleep here tonight.”

“I don’t think it likes me.”

“He’s just protective. If you pet him, it might help.”

Farah’s disgust was evident. “Is that even safe? It might have fleas. Or rabies.” She squinted at the dog. “Hey, maybe that could work! It could, like, bite Samir and then—”

“That’s it!” Geeta snapped her fingers and moved toward the door. “Come on.”

“Wait, don’t we need it?” Farah asked, pointing to the dog.

“He doesn’t have rabies, Farah. And look at him—he can’t even find his own face, much less bite anyone. Let’s go.”