It’s one thing to think these thoughts, another to say them out loud.
I wipe a hand across my mouth.
“Could bandits have done this to him?” Lakshmi asks.
Those of us who have grown up in the Himalayas have long known that gold is being carried through the mountains. Our elders always told us gold is the elixir of life for many people, and there is never enough to go around. Our country has so little of it that it has to be brought in from elsewhere—legally or illegally. Bandits and the authorities are always on the lookout for a lone shepherd who might be transporting the precious metal using his goats or sheep. Our people know this. My brother Vinay must have known the risks, which is why he would have taken this trail off the main path.
“The sheep droppings here are fresh,” I say, pointing to the ground away from my brother’s body to avoid looking at him. Then I see Neela, across the clearing, nibbling at the dry foliage growing between the rocks. “She knows this place. She’s been here before.” I look up at the ridge again, imagining how the accident would have happened. “See that pile of stones that reaches up to the top of the ridge? It looks like a rough path. Vinay could have been bringing the flock down from there. Or...maybe Neela slipped on that path, fell on her side and skidded all the way down. The gold bars have sharp edges, which would have gouged her skin. The wound on her side was deep.”
A memory comes to me, unbidden. Dev sliding down the ravine. I blink back my tears. “Vinay might have come down the slope to get to her. But, after falling, she was probably scared and might have bucked and kicked him. He could have lost his balance, fell and broken his nose along the way. It wouldn’t be the first time something like that happened.”
Lakshmi must know I’m talking about Dev. I’ve just described how my husband died last year, trying to save a goat from falling down the mountain. I look away from her, again, to keep from showing her how much this memory upsets me. I take Chullu’s milk rag from him and wet it again with my milk. He grins at me, flashing his tiny front teeth. At least he will never suffer a fate like his father’s—or his uncle’s.
I hear Lakshmi sigh. She stands, walks to the horse and pulls a goatskin bag from the saddlebag. She pulls the drawstring open and holds the bag in front of the horse’s mouth while he drinks.
“What will you do now?” she asks.
I don’t know how to answer her. I expected to find my brother and return the sheep to him. I hadn’t given any thought to what I would do next.
I smooth Chullu’s hair. I remember Vinay’s final words as if he’s standing next to me and realize I must act quickly now. I turn to Lakshmi.
“The flock,” I say. “I have to find them. Then I have to see that the gold is delivered to the next relay point.” How I’m going to make any of this happen isn’t clear to me.
Rekha looks up at me; again, she sucks her thumb. I stroke her hair to reassure her. In my arms, Chullu gurgles.
Lakshmi ties the goatskin bag closed and puts it back in the saddlebag. She’s facing away from me, when she says, “Is this about the gold or your brother’s family?”
I tighten my hold on Chullu. He squeals and wriggles, trying to get out of my arms. “I don’t know what you mean.”
She turns to face me. Her gaze is direct, but there is softness in her voice. “You could profit from the gold, couldn’t you?”
Does she think I’m doing this so I can sell the gold? That all I care about is me? “You think I’d take advantage of my brother’s death to claim the gold for myself?”
She answers in a gentle tone. “Or for your children. I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”
“Those goondas would do to me what they’ve done to Vinay.” I glance at Vinay’s body sprawled a foot away. “My brother made a mistake. He must have been desperate. Our life is not easy. The work is hard and there’s no money in it. He wanted to send his sons to school, so they could have a different life, away from herding and shearing—” I have to stop myself from babbling. Tears have blurred my vision.
Lakshmi looks, again, at my brother’s body. “What about...” She pauses and lets her words hang in the air. Her expression tells me what she’s thinking.
“We burn our dead like all Hindus,” I say. “But...”
I look around me, at the rocky landscape. The proper thing to do would be to burn his body where he died. But there’s no way to make a platform, or to cut the wood. I have no tools with me. In this moment, I feel an intense longing for my tribe. If we were all together, we could have—would have—made it happen. It’s what we always do when someone dies on the trail. It’s what we did when Dev died.
If I were with my tribe, we’d have a proper funeral. The village elder would recite the prayers, and the women, all of them, including his wife, Selma, would bathe Vinay, and wrap him carefully, tenderly, in a freshly washed sheet. Tears again fill my eyes. Rekha reaches for my hand.
“Next to the hospital,” Lakshmi says, quietly. “There is a crematorium—where we burn those who have died.”
I feel as if I’ve walked a hundred miles. I don’t remember ever feeling this exhausted. I no longer try to hide my tears; they spill over my cheeks and down my chin. I’ve been holding Rekha’s hand to comfort myself as much as her. Now I let go and wipe my face with my free hand, pressing my knuckles into the sockets of my eyes until I see stars.
Why did you leave me, Dev? If you were still here, we’d be with our people, up in our summer home. None of this would be happening. And where are you, Malik? Why have you gone away? First Dev, then Malik, now Vinay. Must I lose everybody?
Lakshmi gently eases Chullu from my grasp. She combs his hair away from his forehead with her fingers and smiles at him. She holds her hand out to Rekha, who moves to take it. As if she knows what I’m thinking, Lakshmi says, so softly I think I might have imagined it, “It will be all right, Nimmi.”
I heave a sigh. After a moment, I remove the bedroll from my back and set it to one side of the clearing. Lakshmi flattens out the bedroll and sets Chullu down on it. I untie the bundle from my waist to take out a few chapatti and an onion. I break off a piece of bread and give it to my son to gnaw on with his baby teeth. The rest I hand to Rekha.
“Sit with Chullu for a bit, okay?” I say to her. My daughter sits next to her brother and feeds him another piece of chapatti.
I go over to my brother’s body. It hurts to look at him. I can’t stop thinking of the hours he was suffering before death relieved him. I start to undress him, thinking that he looks much younger in death than he did in life. Gone are the wrinkles around his eyes, the result of his habitual squinting. I see his cheeks are smoother now. I am embarrassed to look at him in his full nakedness. Our mother would be the one to bathe him if she were still alive, but, now, I’m the only family available to do this.