The Bandit Queens (55)

SIXTEEN


Sunday morning, Geeta was on her way to bait Raees with Bandit when Arhaan arrived to wash him. She didn’t need the delay; Saloni had said to be at Farah’s around eleven.

“Remember?” Arhaan said, talking over the blaring bhajans. He plopped onto her cement step to scratch Bandit’s long ears. Bandit rolled onto his back, spread his legs and bent his paws for better belly access. Shameless. “For the pakoras?”

“Oh,” Geeta said. “Right. Tell you what, he’s not that dirty yet. You can bathe Bandit some other time.”

“Oh.” Arhaan continued petting Bandit, who twitched in excitement and upended his water bowl. Arhaan righted it on her step. “Are you sure? I don’t mind. Really.”

“I promised another boy that he could play with Bandit today, so—”

“We can play together! Where?”

“Do you know Raees?”

“Raees? Sure, he’s a baby, though.” Arhaan’s hand stilled. Bandit opened his eyes in displeasure and pawed at Arhaan’s wrist to solicit more attention. “I can’t play with babies.”

Geeta shrugged. “Then don’t.”

“Okay, okay.”

She grabbed a spongy gourd and locked her door. She and Arhaan took care to avoid the open water drain that bifurcated most of the village lanes. This water ran clear; the sewage drains, fewer in number and routed differently, collected at the south part of the city, where Khushi and the other Dalits lived. Geeta and Arhaan hugged the left side of the alley, nodding at people they recognized. “Ram Ram,” they greeted. To their right, a herder led his goats, his stick perfunctory as they all knew their way to the pond.

Some deity must’ve been looking out for her because they weren’t even halfway to Karem’s house before running into Raees, who was kicking a partially deflated ball. It appeared to be some sort of dark red, but was coated with so much dust that it was difficult to be certain.

“Geeta-aunty! Bandit!”

“Hi, Raees, do you still want to play with Bandit? Arhaan here wants to play with you both.”

Arhaan issued a reluctant wave.

“Yah!”

“Great, but I need a favor from you both. Okay?”

The two looked at each other. “Okay!” Raees’s voice turned heavy with suspicion: “Whydya got a gourd? Are you gonna see my father? ’Cause we had to eat the last one you brought, and I hate gourds.”

“Me, too, actually.” Geeta smiled. “This is for Farahben. I need to speak to her.”

The boys nodded, busy stroking Bandit’s tawny fur.

“And while I talk to Farahben, you two will play outside with the muk—er—Farahben’s daughter.”

They jerked up. “What!” Bandit, bereft, put his paw on Arhaan’s leg, but the boy was too distraught to heed. “Not Irem!”

Bandit changed tactics, imploring Raees, who was also looking at Geeta with a dread that dunked her into guilt.

“But you said…”

Arhaan fumed to himself. “But she’s so…so…angry!”

“I know, Raees-beta, and I meant what I said last night. That’s why this is a favor, because I know you don’t want to. I’d really appreciate it. And I’d owe you a favor in return.”

This perked up his mood. “Really? Me?”

“Yep. I bet you she’ll be nicer with Arhaan there. And Bandit.”

Such was Irem’s reputation that Arhaan didn’t question why Raees required protection from her. Instead, he was shrewd. “How long we gotta play with her?”

“An hour. Outside. But not in the backyard.”

Raees was about to nod, but Arhaan stood in front of him, arms crossed. He squinted those Saloni eyes at her. “Twenty minutes.”

“Forty-five.”

“Thirty. And we get to play with Bandit until dinnertime. And we’re even on the pakoras.”

“Deal.” As they shook hands, Geeta muttered, “She’s right, you are a little guerrilla.”

They walked toward dead Samir’s childhood home. It was already eleven and Saloni would be wondering about the delay. Ram knew what she’d think of seeing Arhaan as part of Geeta’s ever-expanding squad of motley children. She recalled a time when children feared her rather than bartered with her. “Bandit!” she said, her voice sharp when he wandered to sniff a seated man’s food. The man, irritated, twisted his torso and snack away, standing when Bandit continued to beg. “Leave it.” Behind her, the boys were chatting. Few topics fostered conversation faster than a common enemy.

“So what’s the scene with Irem?”

Raees kicked at a plastic bottle but missed with glum indifference. “She’s my girlfriend.”

Arhaan was equal parts impressed and dismayed. “You have a girlfriend? Already?”

“Yah.”

“And it’s Irem?”

“Hopefully not for long, though.”

“She’s so much senior to you.”

“I know! That’s what I keep telling her. Hey, how old’re you?”

“Eleven.”

“D’ya want a girlfriend?”

“Definitely. But not Irem.”