‘Yes, ma’am,’ we echoed.
After school, Brahmi and I emptied our school bags and put in one puppy each inside. We took a Blueline bus home, the rickety fleet of buses driven by overworked drivers with expired licences who routinely have to wash the blood of passengers off the tyres.
Brahmi was quiet so I spoke.
‘Shahrazad must be in a happy place right now,’ I said.
‘Hmm.’
‘It was the best way for her to go. By the time her puppies grow up, they wouldn’t remember their mother. And as for Shahrazad the last thing she saw in the world was something beautiful. Her puppies.’
‘She also saw us. Her friends. You made that possible,’ she said and looked at me.
‘Hmm.’
‘You did well today, Raghu. We both did. I think we were . . .’
‘Brave?’
She smiled like she meant it. In that split second I was tempted to tell her everything. I wanted to break down in her arms and tell her what really happened in that pool with Sami and me. But we hit a road bump and the moment passed. It was for the best.
Also, I didn’t think Shahrazad was in a happy place or that the last thing she saw was beautiful. What she saw was that she was abandoning her newborn puppies, entrusting them in the hands of two little humans, and that’s not a happy thought to die with.
My heroism at school and delay in reaching home was met with a tight slap by Maa. She was home from work already and had panicked when she didn’t find me at home.
‘Where were you? I went to the bus stop. Everyone had got down but not you! The conductor said you hadn’t taken the bus! Where had you gone? I was going mad here! I called your school and they said you had left!’
‘I took a Blueline bus.’
‘What! Why? You have started smoking? Is that why you’re late?’
‘No, Maa. I was—’
‘Ishh! You have you started smoking. Show me your lips!’
‘No, Maa. I was—’
She snatched my bag to look for a cigarette box or matches. As if on cue, the pup started to mew. Stunned, she dropped the bag and the little puppy crawled out. She sat down and picked up the little one, and ran her fingers on its tiny head. Her eyes flooded with instinctive maternal love. She looked at me for an explanation. When I told her, she patted my head.
‘Khul bhalo korechhis. Ki darun!You did a good thing! He’s so sweet! Look at it sucking on my finger. I should get some milk for it. Look up the Yellow Pages. We need to go to a vet to get it checked. Quickly!’ she said and disappeared into the kitchen, cradling the puppy with one hand.
Maa named the puppy Mina.
When Dada came home, we all went to the veterinarian. We bought a little bed, a blanket and a collar for her. When we got home with our new family member being passed from one set of hands to another, a special delivery awaited us—a 25-inch state-of-the-art Videocon television. It was probably another attempt from Dada to make up for his betrayal.
‘We will watch the World Cup here,’ Dada announced as it flickered to life. Baba was impressed.
‘You don’t like it, Raghu?’ asked Maa.
‘We didn’t need a new TV,’ I said obstinately.
‘What’s going on between the two of you?’ asked Baba.
‘Nothing,’ said Dada.
A little later, Bhattacharya Uncle and Aunty dropped in and saw the new TV. The picture quality was crisp and unlike the last TV, the screen was flat. It looked like NASA had built it. Arundhati came too but not once did she look at the television. She brought books for me to read instead and didn’t let anyone take Mina from her hands. She pestered her parents to get her one too but they shot her down.
‘This is just likeA Game of Thrones,’ she said to me. ‘She’s so ADORABLE! I LOVE HER!’
