41
BRIDGES
“Let’s go for a walk,” Arul said when he returned from his lessons at the carpentry shop that afternoon.
“Can’t.” Muthu scowled. “I have to write I won’t be rude to my teachers one hundred times.”
“Why?” Arul said. “What did you do?”
“This morning, Priya Aunty said, if a fruit vendor asks us for twenty rupees and we give him a fifty-rupee note, what would we have left? And I said it was a silly question, because if a vendor asks us for twenty, I wouldn’t give him fifty, I’d bargain him down, not give more than he asks! And she got mad, but I said it was just as important to learn how to bargain as it was to learn subtraction. All the other kids agreed with me, but that only made her madder, and she gave me extra homework.”
Arul started lecturing Muthu on staying out of trouble, but I grinned at Muthu. It was good to know he was getting his spark back.
When I recognized where Arul was heading, I stopped, but he wouldn’t let me turn around.
Soon, we arrived at the fancy house where Kutti lived. He was out in the yard.
Kutti’s coat shone with cleanliness, sparkling in the sunshine like a silk sari. We watched him through the gate, playing with the girl. The gardener was nowhere to be seen.
Praba threw a ball, and he leaped and caught it midair. She patted him, and he licked her hand, looking at her the way he used to look at you.
“What’s the point of this trip?” I said to Arul. “To show me Kutti doesn’t miss Rukku anymore?”
Before I could stomp off in a huff, Kutti raised his head and galloped toward the gate, barking madly, his tail wagging so fast, it almost disappeared from view.
Praba ran after him, and when she saw us, she swung the gate open. Kutti bounded over, placed his paws on my knees, and pushed me off balance. He’d grown so much larger and stronger. We collapsed together, his tail thumping me.
“Viji!” The girl surprised me by remembering my name. “You don’t look nearly as scruffy as you did last time.” She sounded disappointed. “What happened?”
“Changed my line of work,” I said.
“Where’s Rukku?” she said.
“Couldn’t come.” I buried my face in Kutti’s fur. He smelled clean and fresh.
“Want to see the bed I made for Kutti in my room?” Praba asked. “I give him dog biscuits every day, and I wash him once a week with special dog shampoo—”
“Dog shampoo?” They not only had special biscuits for dogs, but even special shampoo?
“Come on,” she said. “I’ll show you.”
“We don’t have time now,” I said, because I was afraid her mother might not want me in her house, even though she was kind and I was a lot cleaner than I had been. And it was enough to see that Kutti was doing well.
Kutti put a paw on my foot, like he was telling me to stay. But I scratched Kutti behind the ears and got up.
“Go, Kutti,” I said. “Go on home.”
“When will you visit again?” Praba asked.
“Sometime,” Arul said. “Sure.”
As we walked away, Kutti gave a little whine, but he didn’t try to follow. He knew where he belonged now.
“I thought you would like to see how happy Kutti is,” Arul said.
“You’ve visited him before?” I asked.
“Just once,” Arul said. “Long enough to show me two things, Viji. That he still loves us. But love doesn’t stop him from living and moving forward, because that’s how life moves.”
On the way back, we visited our bridge.
We looked for the spot where we’d pitched our tents, but we couldn’t tell the exact place. A cool breeze stirred the river as the sun sank down in the sky.
“We should get going,” Arul said.
“Just a bit longer,” I said. Part of me felt that if you could still talk to me, this was the place where I’d hear your voice loud and clear—here on this bridge, which was the closest we’d had to a happy home.
I whispered your name, again and again, but you never replied.
Or maybe I just didn’t hear. All I heard was the river slapping against the bank endlessly.
“It’s getting really late,” Arul said. “Come on.”
Celina Aunty and Muthu were standing in the front yard, peering up and down the street, into the gloom. Muthu waved wildly as soon as he spotted us returning, and Celina Aunty practically ran to the gate to let us in.
“Thank goodness you’re here at last, ” she said. “What kept you out so long?”
“Told you they’d be fine, Aunty,” Muthu said. “Why were you so worried? Because this is the first time Akka and Arul have ever been out on their own in the dark without me, or something?”
“That must be it.” She tousled his hair and smiled at us. “But please, next time you want to stay out late, warn me so I don’t get scared?”
I promised I would.
And I thought about Celina Aunty and Muthu’s concern. It felt good to see them feeling happy that we were back safe.
For the first time since we’d left the bridge, I had the feeling I’d come home.