A month ago, I was still angry with Lakshmi Kumar for telling me what to do, for sending Malik away from me, for being so bloody competent. But now I just feel a sense of relief that someone—anyone—is willing to take charge and help.
If only that someone were Malik.
I walk back up the hill to herd the sheep and bring them to Shimla.
11
LAKSHMI
Foothills of Himalayas, Northwest of Shimla
We’re quiet on our way back to Shimla. We stop from time to time to let the sheep graze. I sounded confident enough when I told Nimmi we would find someone to keep the sheep, but now I’m wondering how we’ll manage. Sheep need to be moved every few days to find fresh grass. I had to suggest we take the sheep back with us; otherwise, Nimmi might have insisted on staying with the flock overnight and keeping the children with her, waiting until I could return to help her. In these hills, sheep are a valuable commodity. And this herd is carrying gold on their flanks! Leaving Nimmi and the children in the foothills would be far too dangerous.
Rekha walks beside me, alternately speaking when an idea comes to her, and staying quiet when she’s pondering. Earlier, when she’d been watching the white clouds floating overhead, she asked me why we don’t just ride the clouds.
“Clouds could get us to Shimla faster, Auntie,” she says. “Remember the clouds in that book about the birds?” She’s referring to a picture book about Himalayan birds we read last week.
“Clouds are tricky, Rekha,” I tell her. “The moment you get close to them, they disappear.” She looks up at me, her eyebrows raised, and I explain that while the clouds might look like fuzzy cotton from far away, they’re actually made of water—mist. “If we got close enough to them,” I tell her, “we would go right through.”
Later, she asks, “Could we live inside a rainbow?”
I can’t help but wonder if I thought of things like this when I was four years old. I try to find an answer that will satisfy her, and eventually, I say, “We could. But if we were inside them, we wouldn’t see them in the sky, would we?”
She blinks several times, taking this in, then shakes her head.
I would sit her on the saddle of my horse if it weren’t carrying her uncle’s body. With her little legs it’s hard for her to keep up. But she seems to have inherited her mother’s ability to walk without tiring. She never once complains, never asks for food or water.
“After we finish the monkey story, can we read the one about the elephant? I would like to have an elephant.” When we started off from the canyon toward Shimla, she put her tiny hand in mine and left it there, as I’ve seen her do so often with her mother and with Malik. The gesture touched me.
“Of course, we can,” I say.
Both Rekha and her mother seem to enjoy the books we’ve been reading. At first I worried Nimmi would feel self-conscious, learning alongside her daughter. Maybe even feel as if I were intruding too much into their lives. But she becomes a different person when we’re spending time together, reading. She’s genuinely curious, and obviously proud of how quickly her daughter learns to read and write.
I stop and turn around to check on Nimmi and Chullu at the back of the flock. Nimmi is grieving for her brother, and her grief is palpable—as if the weight of it is pressing on her, making this hard journey all the harder. She’s using a crook to keep the herd together, but her shoulders are slumped, and she moves the sheep forward half-heartedly. The animals sense her listlessness, seizing the opportunity to wander off until she calls them back.
I’ve covered Vinay’s body as best as I can, but it’s attracting insects, and I worry about maggots on my horse. So far, Chandra’s been only a little skittish, but I need him to stay calm until we get the body to the crematorium.
* * *
The town of Shimla is built on a series of hills dotted with pines, cedars, poplars and birch. Anywhere else these hills would be considered mountains, but the craggy Himalayas to the north overshadow these canyons, making them seem puny by comparison, so we refer to them as hills. The Lady Bradley Hospital sits high on a substantial property that extends down into a ravine. When we glimpse the spire of Christ Church, I know the hospital will soon come into view. We take the higher, steeper road, the longer way around to the back entrance of the hospital where the morgue is located.
By late afternoon we’re close enough to the hospital that I ask Nimmi to wait up on the hill with the sheep. Then I walk my horse down the slope to the hospital morgue. Prakesh, the attendant, knows me, and I ask him to take the body discreetly to the crematorium. If he’s at all surprised by this request, he doesn’t let it show; his caste is used to dealing with the dead. I ask him to keep the ashes for me, then I hold on to Chandra’s reins as he and another attendant lift Vinay’s body from my horse. I ask a third attendant to water Chandra and offer him a rupee for his kindness.
Then I walk over to the Community Clinic. I must look a right mess because, when I enter through the front door, all the patients in the waiting room turn to stare. I realize, too late, I smell of horses, my own sweat and the pine forest up the hill. I go quickly to the exam room and stop at the curtained door.
“Jay?”
I can hear him excuse himself to the patient he’s attending to before he parts the curtain. When he sees me, he pulls the curtain closed behind him. “Lakshmi!” he says, taking in my disheveled state. He guides me into the back hallway, so we’re out of sight of the reception room. “I’ve been so worried! First, you didn’t show up for clinic. When I sent someone home to see if you were all right, he came back and told me there was no one at the house.”
I place the flat of my hand on his chest to calm him. “I took Chandra and went to look for Nimmi. She wasn’t at her place when I stopped by this morning, everything she owns was gone.”
“And did you—”
“Yes. Everyone’s safe. But I need to find a place for forty sheep.”
His eyes go wide. “You found the flock?”
“Yes. We only need to keep them for a few days. I promise.”
He pulls at his lip, looking down at his feet. “The groundskeeper at the hospital has been nagging me to have the lawns mowed.”
“Shabash!” I say. I smile and place a finger on his lips.
He takes my hand and squeezes it. “A few days only, accha? Once I’m done with this patient, I’ll have a talk with the groundskeeper.”
“Can you handle this afternoon’s load without me?”
He nods. “So far today we’ve only had three patients. So I think we’ll manage.”