The adda is completely deserted. Not one of Anand Bhai’s men is around. Even the door to his room is closed. The goat is awake in a corner of the adda, tied to a wooden post. It lies on its fours and lifts its head from time to time. Chamdi sits on the ground and stares at the goat. It has been more than an hour since he got here, but he has still not knocked on Darzi’s door.
One look at him and Guddi will know that he has done something terrible. What can he say to her—that I, Chamdi, have taken lives? Perhaps she will not recognize him. What if his face has already begun to change because of what he has just done?
But Mrs. Sadiq would recognize him in a second. He can feel her breath in his ear right now: Remember, once a thief, always a thief. I am much more than a thief, he says to her. It would cause her so much pain she would stop breathing altogether.
If only he had stayed at the orphanage. He would have lived with his bougainvilleas all day and night. He closes his eyes and envisions them caressing his face. But the moment they touch him, they recoil.
He sees Hanif’s wife instead. She just looks at him, her long black hair in flames.
A sudden scream explodes in the night. Chamdi opens his eyes, but no one is around. He hopes Anand Bhai will cut off his ears, because if his ears remain, they will carry the screams of Hanif and his family for the rest of his life.
Perhaps the people of the mohalla are fighting the fire, he tells himself. The shack will be destroyed, but the family might survive.
As soon as he thinks this, he knows it is impossible. Anand Bhai stayed there to ensure that no one escapes. All Chamdi can hope for is that Hanif’s family stops breathing long before the fire does.
He hears a heavy cough through the door. The door opens suddenly—it is the old woman. She is still coughing. She steps out into the night, spits onto the gravel of the adda, and lets out a small “aah.” She has still not seen Chamdi. He is not yet ready to face anyone. The old woman turns to re-enter her room.
“Chamdi?” she asks.
Her eyes become narrower as she peers through the darkness. Chamdi does not answer, nor does he stand up. He stays motionless on the floor with his back against the wall—one leg folded, the other outstretched.
“Chamdi …” says the old woman again. Her voice is softer this time.
Even though her back is bent already, the old woman bends lower, towards him. Her closeness makes him uncomfortable. She places her palm on his head, keeps it there for a while. She says nothing. She straightens up as much as her body allows and goes back into the room.
He can hear her walk about the room. There is the clash of utensils, followed by Darzi’s heavy snoring. It starts and stops abruptly. Chamdi is glad that Guddi is still asleep. He does not have the courage to face her. He decides to get away from the room. Sitting here, he feels cold, like his heart is shivering.
Just as he is about to place his palms on the ground and thrust himself up, he hears a voice: “Tonight, we will enjoy …”
It is Anand Bhai. He has a whisky bottle in his left hand and his right hand is around a man’s shoulder. It is the man who rammed the iron rod into Hanif’s face.
“Rani’s bringing a friend,” says Anand Bhai. “We’ll enjoy. Do you want to enjoy?”
“Yes,” says the man. “I want to enjoy.”
They both laugh in a hoarse manner, and Chamdi stays extremely still. He hopes they do not notice him. As they are about to walk past him, the door to Darzi’s room rattles. A hand pushes the door open and the door hits the wall. Chamdi knows it is Guddi’s hand and he wants her to go back in.
Anand Bhai and the man turn in alarm. But the moment they see Guddi standing in the doorway, they relax. Anand Bhai’s attention turns to his right, to where Chamdi is crouched.
“Chamdi,” says Anand Bhai.
He climbs up the three small steps that lead to Darzi’s room and bends down towards Chamdi, just as the old woman did.
“You did well tonight,” says Anand Bhai. “You were very brave.” He puts his hand on Chamdi’s shoulder and squeezes it. “Remember this night. Tonight, you’ve become a man.” Chamdi can smell the alcohol on Anand Bhai’s breath. His black shirt sticks to his sweaty chest. Anand Bhai turns to Guddi and asks, “Do you know what our hero did tonight?”
Chamdi is so still, it is as though he has forgotten how to move.
But Anand Bhai moves. He moves towards Guddi. He places his hand on Guddi’s head and looks at Chamdi. “The two of you are very special to me,” says Anand Bhai. Then he puts his fingers underneath her chin, looks directly at her, and says, “Even you are special, Guddi.”
Anger rises from Chamdi’s chest. It makes him stand up and face Anand Bhai. His right palm clenches into a fist.
“Remember what I said, Chamdi,” says Anand Bhai. “So you be loyal …”
The old woman walks out then. She slowly stretches her arm out for Guddi, and Guddi goes close to her and sticks to her body.
“Anand, it’s late,” she says firmly. “Go to sleep.”
When Chamdi notices how Guddi sticks to the old woman’s body, he understands something. Perhaps this is the only place where Guddi is safe. Right here, at Anand Bhai’s adda. Right next to Anand Bhai’s mother. She cares for Guddi and will not allow Anand Bhai to harm her. Chamdi can never trust Anand Bhai—he can go back on his word in a second—but he can count on the old woman. As long as she is alive, Guddi will be safe. If he and Guddi run, the old woman will not be able to protect them. Anand Bhai will find them and Guddi will suffer terribly.
Anand Bhai puts his hand in the pocket of his black trousers and takes out a fifty-rupee note. He places the money in Chamdi’s palm.
“You did well tonight,” Anand Bhai says again.
Chamdi cannot bring himself to fold his fingers around the money.
Anand Bhai smiles at the old woman as he climbs down the three steps and takes a swig from the bottle. He places his arm around the man’s shoulder again, and they walk towards Anand Bhai’s room, their feet crunching the gravel beneath.
Chamdi stares at the money in his hand. It is a fresh fifty-rupee note, more money than he has held in his life. But he despises the touch of it against his skin. He fights the urge to tear it up. He closes his fingers over the note and puts it into the pocket of his shorts. He will need money now. He will need it to feed Guddi and Amma. He might need it to run. He does not know.
The old woman enters the room again. He can hear her pouring water into a vessel. His legs feel weak and he sits down once more. Guddi sits down too. She does not say anything. Chamdi watches Anand Bhai open the door of his room. He puts the whisky bottle to his mouth, finishes whatever is left, and throws the empty bottle to the ground.
Chamdi stares at the wall that separates the adda from the school playground. In a few hours, the sun will rise. The doors of the one-room homes will open, the smell of beedis will flood the adda, and the school bell will ring.
Chamdi can feel Guddi looking at him. He continues to stare at the cement wall in front of him.
“What happened?” she asks softly.
Chamdi wants to close his eyes and place his head in Guddi’s lap, but he is unable to. An eerie silence envelops the adda as if everyone is awake in the darkness.