The Bandit Queens (82)

“Wait, what happened at the station—”

She shut the door on Farah’s question.

“Bandit, quiet!” Even as she reached for the armoire door handle, she hesitated. It would be far easier if she could just keep Ramesh tucked away and out of her hair. Or if fiction turned to fact and Bandit extended her the ultimate favor by eating her husband.

“Geeta?” he called. “Is there, like, a dog in here?”

Ever the clever one, this man. She sighed, maneuvering Bandit out the back before releasing Ramesh, who spilled out of the closet, cane in hand.

“Did I hear right? Darshan’s dead?” Ramesh sighed. “O baap re. I used to drink with him.”

Geeta scowled. “You used to drink with everyone, gadheda.” She never would’ve dared speak to him this way before and pride swelled in her.

He took no offense. “That’s true. I’m dry now, though. Haven’t touched the stuff since…” He raised his arm to wave his hand in front of his eyes, and Geeta’s entire body panicked. Suddenly she was twenty-two again, curled on the kitchen floor, Ramesh’s foot burrowed in her gut, her back. She flinched, fumbling backward with a gasp, before she registered his movement as benign.

But it was too late. It was as though a switch had been flipped. She tumbled from secure in her power to having absolutely none. An awful fist squeezed her chest; she couldn’t speak. Looking at him was too troubling, so she did not, focusing instead on her trembling hands, how her left pinky wavered at an unnatural angle. She tried to breathe and found no air. Her only consolation was that he couldn’t see her sudden, volatile reaction.

“How?” She managed to push out the word without wavering.

“Tharra. Got a bad batch. Mixed with some poison or something.”

She didn’t have the will to mention Bandit or Bada-Bhai’s methanol. She limped to her desk and sat down, staring at the photograph of the Bandit Queen, trying to unknot the anxiety behind her sternum. There was no need to fear; she had a life and friends here, Ramesh didn’t. Even as she told herself that he couldn’t touch her anymore, she found she didn’t believe it.

“Why’d you leave?”

“I was shit to you, I know that. I was a coward: the loan sharks were coming for my head. They would’ve killed me. But I knew they wouldn’t hurt you—they knew you didn’t have anything valuable.”

He inspired about as much faith as a blind pilot. “You hurt me plenty.”

“Never again, Geeta. And I’m blind, yes, but I promise I’m no burden. I know how to live like this. There was this NGO in Ahmedabad—”

“So you’ve been in Ahmedabad for the past five years?”

“Not all that time. I was begging on the street for a while before the NGO found me. They taught me to work like this. I can still fix bicycles and cane chairs. I’m still good with my hands.”

“What about your parents? Your brother said they couldn’t find you.”

“I was too ashamed to see them, and I didn’t want to be a burden on my brother either—he already has to take care of our parents. I couldn’t bear their disappointment.”

He could be lying, but what was paramount, she knew, was making certain that Ramesh didn’t hear her fear. She kept her voice light as she said, “Well, at least you wouldn’t have to see it.”

He smiled. “Funny. You were always funny.” His brows knitted. “They really didn’t reach out to you? All these years?”

“Everyone thought I did something to you. Made you disappear.”

“Oh, Geeta.”

She cleared her throat. “It’s done. And so are we. Please leave.”

“At least let me stay through Diwali,” he said.

“That’s over two weeks! No!”

“But I haven’t been home in so long. Look, I’ll save up some money for my cane and if by then you still don’t want me around, I’ll go.” He pinched the skin of his throat. “Promise.”

“What cane?”

His face was animated. “There’s this new SmartCane. Some students in Delhi came up with it. It’s amazing. I dunno how, but it senses things around you and vibrates to warn you.”

“Like sonar?”

He frowned. “Huh?”

“Like with bats.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind. How much is this cane?”

“Twenty thousand.”

“If I give you the money, will you leave?” Evidently, it didn’t matter how much time had passed; if her reaction to the man was this visceral, she needed him gone no matter the cost. Like with Farah, she needed to start protecting herself instead of just reacting.

“I couldn’t ask you to—”

“It’s a yes or no question.” But she was already moving toward the armoire. She’d never reveal her box to another, but Ramesh couldn’t see its contents. She extracted her mangalsutra. “Your family paid for this,” she said, pooling it in his hand. “So you might as well have it. Leave and sell it for your cane.”

His fingertips read the beads. “Is this your…”

She nodded but then realized her mistake. “Yes.”

“Oh, Geeta…”