9
LAUGHTER
A cool breeze rose from the river, waking me and riffling the edges of my skirt. My stomach growled like a starving tiger. At home, the two of us would have been up, making breakfast. We’d been poor, but at least we always had something to eat.
When you woke, I knew you would be hungry, too. Maybe we could go to the teashop and ask if we could work there again.
Kutti woke with a snort. He snuffled at your face until you sat up.
“Amma?” you murmured.
“Just us, remember?”
“Go home now, Viji?”
“We live here now, Rukku. Our own place, like in our story.”
“Palace?”
“Kind of. We rule ourselves here, so it’s as good as being princesses.”
You lifted your head high and surveyed the ruined bridge like a princess. Down by the riverbank, people were bathing. I spotted the boys by the river’s edge.
From our bundle, I grabbed a change of clothes and our toiletries, towels, and water bottle. We walked down to the water with Kutti at our heels.
Up close the river was not beautiful. It looked more gray than silver.
We watched Arul dive off a rock, his heels kicking an old cardboard carton that bobbed past. With a joyful yip, Kutti splashed in, then ran back out to greet Muthu, who was still standing on the rock.
Muthu laughed as Kutti shook his coat, sending a shower of droplets into Muthu’s face. “Now I don’t need to wash,” he said. “What a thoughtful dog you are.”
“Good dog,” you agreed. “Rukku’s dog.”
“Want to come for a swim?” Muthu grinned at you. “The water’s nice and cool.”
“No,” I said. “Rukku can’t swim.”
“Let her have some fun!” Arul was wading to the shore. “We won’t take her where it’s deep.”
Muthu cupped some water and let it dribble down your back. You giggled and slid into the river, with all your clothes on.
“Don’t worry,” Arul said. “We’ll see that she’s safe.”
You splashed one another for a while, ignoring the litter that floated by. Kutti swam around you in circles.
If you hadn’t been enjoying yourself so much, I would probably have dragged you out. Part of me was irritated that you’d gone right ahead to bathe with the boys without me. But then, it was the first time I’d seen you make friends so easily. It was a nice change after years of meeting kids who hadn’t been kind or warm to either of us—except for Subbu, whom Arul resembled a little.
“Want some soap?” I asked the boys.
“None for me,” Muthu said. “I smell good enough already!” But Arul thanked me, and I waded into the water, and we started washing ourselves and the clothes we were wearing.
When we got out of the water, I gave the boys one of our towels, and Arul accepted it gratefully, though Muthu said he preferred to dry off in the sun.
Behind a bush, you and I peeled off our clothes and changed into the dry skirts and blouses I’d brought. With our fingers, we scrubbed tooth powder on our teeth and rinsed it off with the last of the water left in our plastic bottle.
Back at the bridge, I wrung out our wet clothes and towels, and weighted them down with stones to dry in the sun.
“Hungry,” you announced.
“Sorry,” I said. “Don’t have anything. We’ll go find something.”
“No banana?”
“No, sorry.”
“Papaya?” you suggested.
“No.”
“Guava?”
“No. No pomegranate, no jackfruit, no oranges, no sapotes, no sweet limes. No nothing.”
“No, no, no,” you repeated, faster, louder, and more annoyed each time. “No, no, no!”
“No, no, no,” Muthu joined in.
You stopped and stared at him.
“Let’s sing together, Rukku,” he said. “No-no-nooo!”
Kutti lifted his nose and let out a musical howl. “Wooo.”
“Nooo!” You laughed and clapped your hands. “Nooo—nooo—nooo.”
I’d seen you laugh before, but never quite like this. This was the first time you’d broken into a laugh halfway through a tantrum. And the first time you laughed without hiding your mouth behind your hands, as if you were scared to be happy.
Now you threw back your head the way Muthu was doing. And as the three of you howled away, like a pack of jackals, hungry and homeless though we were, I felt I’d done the right thing by leaving.