around my ankles like barbed wire.
I sat quietly, trying not to move as the old woman squatting in front of me created her artwork. She didn’t look at my face nor did she talk to me. I was just a nameless canvas on which she did her ritual work.
When she finished, she offered a toothless grin to Grandma, who in turn offered her betel nuts and money. I looked at my hands and feet. To Grandma, this was the traditional beautification of a bride before an impending wedding. To me, it was a cobweb designed to entangle me.
Grandma was ready for the wedding scheduled for the next day. She’d bought my special sari, a long piece of cheap fabric in a garish red and yellow, a cocoon in which I was going to be entombed. She’d even made me prepare plates of sweets and desserts to take to the groom’s family.
What she didn’t know was I had other plans for my wedding day.
Before the sun was even a glimmer in the sky the next morning, I slipped outside our apartment and caught the earliest bus back to the place I’d first arrived in this city. There, I waited, hiding inside the main airport bookstore. I lurked behind the bookshelves, praying no one would see me, waiting for Franky to arrive, my stomach in a knot, my mind filled with anxiety.
The only person I’d said a proper goodbye to was Meena at the station, just before I got on the airport bus. It had been a hurried and whispered goodbye. When I glanced back from inside the bus, I saw her face, a mixture of sadness and worry, like she was responsible for what I was doing.
I waved as the bus pulled out. She put her hands together and bowed the traditional greeting. I hoped to see her again one day. One day, when I’d be free again.
Franky’s instructions had been clear. “Pack your bag before dawn and take the first bus to the airport. I’ll come with your passport and ticket. Don’t breathe a word to anyone, not even your Aunty Shilpa, if you want to help her too.”
The day after Aunty Shilpa signed the bank documents, I returned to the Good and Fast Immigration Broker to make sure Franky had understood the urgency of her health situation.
“Not to worry, miss. I will take good care of it. The doctor will already be calling her and she won’t even know of this arrangement,” Franky had said, passing me a cup of chai. “With the money your parents left you, you’re going to be killing three birds.”
“Killing birds?” I’d looked at him, horrified.
“What I mean to say is,” Franky had said, holding up his fingers, “one, you will get out of this unwanted marriage, two, you will help your Aunty get better and three, you will help Preeti finish school even. Three good birds. Not bad, no?”
I let this sink in.
“That is exactly what your good parents would have expected you to do, miss.”
I nodded. That was true. They’d always told me to help others who were in greater need than I was. “I miss them.”
“Your esteemed father and mother would have been proud of you, miss,” Franky had said, leaning back in his chair, cradling his teacup. “They were very smart. They even went to school.”
“University.”
“That is exactly what I meant. I only wish I had a chance to meet them. What a loss. They were highly respectable, not like the riffraff you bump into around here.”
I had to agree. His own son, Fartybag, was one of those riffraff, but I couldn’t tell him that.
“Your grandmother was wrong to try and marry you off. She means well, so do not resent her. She is not educated like your parents, miss. Marrying off a girl child is tradition. But now, it is practically child abuse, that is what I say.” Franky had slurped loudly from his cup.
That’s true.
He leaned in and said almost in a whisper, “Now, if you were my own daughter, I will give you one piece of good advice. Is that fine?”
I sat up. “Sure.”
“If your grandmother finds out what you’re trying to do, she will stop you immediately, and your aunty will not be able to help you. She may try to stop you herself.”
“But Aunty Shilpa signed the papers. She’s not as bad as Grandma. She’s much nicer too.”
“That is true, but she is an illiterate. She doesn’t think like you and me, you see.” Frankly had tapped his head. “Who knows? But I am only telling you for your own good.”
He had a point. Aunty Shilpa couldn’t even read the cartoons in the children’s section of the daily newspaper. I read them out loud to her every week. Though she was kind, she knew little about the world and its ways.
“You can’t educate everyone. What can you do? That is life. That is our karma,” Franky had said. “All I can ask is for you to do your job, so I can do my job to help you.”
I’d stepped out of his office that day, feeling like everything was finally falling into place. I was no longer afraid of the future.
Late after midnight that night, when Grandma and Aunty Shilpa were sound asleep, Preeti gave me my wedding gift. It was a pair of beautiful beaded ankle bracelets she’d bought at the market. I couldn’t tell her my plans, so I’d just hugged her and cried.
She’d tried to comfort me, saying it’s typical for girls to cry before they marry, but she hadn't known mine were not bridal tears. Mine were farewell tears. I was going to leave her, all my remaining family, and this country in a few hours.
I clasped one of the bracelets around my ankle, then, choking back a sob, I got on one knee to clasp the second one around hers. She agreed after some protesting, only after I told her it would be our forever link. What she hadn’t known then was it would be my forever link to her, to India, wherever in the world I might be.
That anklet was now clinking with every step and the man in the airport bookstore was getting annoyed. I picked up the book nearest to me, pretending to browse. Sunil Looks for a Good Indian Wife, the title said. How fitting. I sighed and put the book back. The man was still glaring. I gave him a courtesy nod. I now knew how to do a bobblehead nod like a true Indian, but his frown only deepened. I’d been lurking in the store for half an hour now. Maybe it’s best to wait at the gate. At least I wouldn’t look suspicious.
At fifteen, I was just above the mandatory escort age of Air India. A year younger and I’d have had to get an adult to sign for my travel, and I’d have been escorted by an air steward throughout the trip. I was lucky.
I stepped out of the bookstore.
“Asha!”
I looked behind me to see Aunty Shilpa.
“Aunty!” I ran to her and threw my arms around her.
“I am so glad to find you,” she said, hugging me back.
“What are you doing here?”
Part of me surged with happiness to see her, while another part of me felt slightly sick. Is my plan in jeopardy? But I held on to her tightly. I’d begun to feel lost in this big, busy airport, and it hurt I hadn’t said a proper goodbye to her or Preeti. It hurt more, knowing I might not see them for a full year. Remember why you’re doing this, I’d kept telling myself, whenever a lonely thought had crept into my mind.
“Did Franky tell you I was here?” I asked.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” she said, pulling me away from the corridor and into a quieter corner. She looked like she’d been crying. “You have to come home with me.”
I looked at her in surprise. “But it’s my wedding day. And Franky said—”
“That man is lying. Don’t listen to him.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s cheating us, Asha. And he’s cheating your parents.” Aunty Shilpa pulled a sheaf of papers from the folds of her sari. “See? He’s doing this to take your parents’ money. He doesn’t care about us.”
“But...but he used the money to buy my ticket and visa, and to get me out of the wedding contract. You were there with me, remember?”
“Oh, yes, I remember that very well. He was really good, wasn’t he?”
“Aunty Shilpa—”
“Asha, please don’t argue. You need to come home with me now!”
“You’re starting to sound like Grandma. I’m doing this to help me, and help you too.” The words slipped out before I could catch them. I swallowed, a little late.
“Help me?” Aunty Shilpa said, drawing back. “I don’t need any help.”
Now I’d said it, I’d have to say it all. “Yes, Aunty. You need a doctor. Preeti told me all about it.”
Aunty Shilpa looked crestfallen. “What did she say?”
“She said you were very sick.” I couldn’t get myself to say “dying.”
“Oh, my child, oh, my child….” She put a hand to her chest and started hyperventilating. “Oh, my Lord, oh, my Lord…”
I reached out and touched her arm. “It’s okay. I can make enough money to help you. Franky promised to find the right doctor for you. That’s why I’m going overseas. Please don’t worry, Aunty.”
“Listen to me,” Aunty Shilpa said, pointing a shaking finger at the papers. “Look at this. I showed this to my manager at the hotel and he said Franky’s sending you overseas to—”
“Hey!” A sharp voice came from behind us.
We turned around to look.