Читать книгу Unwanted Girl - MK Schiller - Страница 15

Asha’s story

Sarah loved the child as if she were her own flesh and blood. Asha grew up headstrong and compassionate just like the two women who raised her. In the village, it wasn’t uncommon for a woman to turn up pregnant and have a child without the other villagers knowing beforehand. So no one questioned Nalini’s new baby. Truthfully, the birth of a girl was a rather unremarkable event and often yielded more sympathies than celebrations.

Sister Sarah was disappointed how true Nalini’s prediction was. Depal never loved the child and barely accepted her, but he allowed his wife the indulgence of keeping the baby and supported the secret of the child’s origins. Sister Sarah helped Asha as much as she could. She swore the translator to secrecy. She allowed Nalini to bring the baby to work where the two women often cooed over her. Sarah spent every free moment with Asha, humming hymns and reading from scripture.

Unbeknownst to anyone, Sarah also had a proclivity for non-secular texts and often read those to Shyla, too. The infant grew surrounded by the sounds of the Gita songs Nalini sang in the morning, the biblical stories Sarah told in the afternoons, and the occasional passage penned by the sisters Brontë.

Sarah, the youngest of eight children, grew up in a strict Catholic home on the outskirts of Manitoba. Her mother planted the seeds of faith and service at an early age. Sarah questioned if being a nun was God’s true plan for her, but she acquiesced to her mother’s wishes. In truth, she yearned for adventure and the chance to do good works in the world. When the opportunity arose to teach in a third world country, Sarah took it willingly. The plan was to set up the school and stay for a year or two until she was relieved of her duties, but now Sarah knew she’d never leave—not when she had a baby to take care of. Never had she felt so certain she was in the right place. Never had she believed in her mother’s dream as she did now.

Both women agreed never to divulge the way the baby came into their lives…not even to the child. They didn’t want the girl to feel unwanted. “God has a plan for you, child,” Sarah often told baby Asha.

When Asha was sick, Sarah brought her difficult-to-obtain western medications. When Asha needed clothes, Sarah purchased them so Nalini wouldn’t have to ask her husband. When the child cried during the day, Sarah rocked her.

At night, Nalini carried the child to her home. In the small hut, she nursed Asha and told her of the great Hindu parables. Ironically, the stories contained very similar morals as Sarah’s.

Depal often grumbled about the child, openly calling her a burden, but his wife quieted him. “If she is a burden, then she is my burden,” she said to her husband. Depal resented the girl. He was old, his muscles hurt, and the last thing he wanted was another mouth to feed. She stole away what little they had, but his main concern was the cost of the dowry he’d have to pay when she was of marriageable age.

When Asha turned five, she attended the missionary school as a student. The other children made fun of her because of Sister Sarah’s special interest, but Asha held her head up high. She felt lucky, proud, and even a little vain the pretty nun favored her.

Nalini agreed to stay later than the other maids. In those hours, she sat on the floor in the corner of the school building running her fingers over her Mala, a necklace similar to a Catholic rosary, while Sister Sarah tutored the child in more advanced subjects.

“The girl is fair skinned and beautiful,” Nalini remarked with motherly pride.

“The girl is smart and hungry for knowledge,” Sister Sarah countered.

Although both women disagreed about Asha’s best attributes, clearly each loved her.

Asha spoke English, Gujarthi, Hindi, and the village dialect fluently. Sarah supplemented her education by giving her books to read from both English and Indian authors. Asha didn’t mind she had no friends, because in many ways, the characters she read about became her closest companions.

“One day, your brave prince will come, beta,” Nalini told her daughter, using the endearment for child. “Just as Rama came for Sita when the evil Ravana kidnapped her.”

“I don’t want a prince to rescue me,” the child retorted.

Nalini’s startled expression made the girl laugh.

“Every girl wants a prince.”

“Not me, Ma. I want to be the brave prince.”

Her mother snorted, waving a reprimanding finger at her daughter. “Arey, silly girl, what nonsense you’re talking.”

The girl, much too stubborn and headstrong for her own good, refused to denounce her views. “I’m going to be an astronaut like Sally Ride.”

“Who?”

“I’ll travel to the stars and bring back rocks for you, Ma.”

“Why would I want rocks?”

Asha shrugged. “They are from space.”

“Have you gone mad? I think there are rocks in your head.” Nalini placed her hands on her hips. “Where are you getting such ideas?”

Asha bit her lower lip, unsure if she should answer, but it was clear from her mother’s stern expression, an answer wasn’t required.

The school building, a modern structure, contained a few tiny alcoves one could sit and go unnoticed. It was in one of these secret places, seven-year-old Asha curled up, hidden, as the two women in her life discussed her future. The little girl knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but surely, there were exceptions to this. They were discussing her, after all.

It was rare the two women bickered, but on this topic neither refused to yield.

“I have allowed you to educate her, but you are filling her head with dangerous ideas, Sister,” Nalini said, mixing her native tongue with the broken English Asha had taught her.

Sister Sarah understood enough. Over the years, the two women had formed some understanding of each other’s language. A translator was no longer necessary.

“She can be anything she wants. Why are you limiting her?”

“She cannot. You paved a difficult path for her. Her future is already determined. She will marry and have children. That is the way here, and it is a good way.”

Sister Sarah expelled a frustrated sigh. “It seems I believe in her more than you do.”

“You know nothing, Sister. You give her hope she has no right to. Your beliefs will cause her great heartache.”

Asha didn’t understand why they disagreed. If it made her mother happy, she would marry and have children. She could do that and be an astronaut on the side. The solution to the problem didn’t seem all that complicated, at least not to the little girl with two braids in her hair who hid in the alcove clutching a worn copy of The Secret Garden.

* * * *

Two years passed, but the women never resolved their disagreement. It always simmered in the background, threatening to boil over like the water she heated for her papa’s chai each morning.

Asha ran to the school building, her braids flapping behind her. The Hindu festival of Holi, signifying the changing of the seasons, was her favorite holiday. She wanted to show Sister Sarah the pink and orange-colored powder on her dress.

School wasn’t in session, but Asha knew Sarah would be in her little house behind the building. She often sat in the garden reading, and that’s exactly where Asha found her.

She wasn’t alone.

A tall white man sat with her sipping tea. She recognized him from the day before. Sarah had introduced him as a school benefactor. The child’s natural curiosity reached new heights yesterday when she’d laid eyes on the man, who was even paler than Sarah with fire-colored hair and eyes the same hue as the river, but much clearer in color. Asha had made him laugh.

“Pleasure to meet you, sir,” she had said, borrowing phrases from a book she’d read.

“Your English is impeccable, young lady,” he complimented.

“Thank you, sir. So is yours,” Asha replied, managing a clumsy curtsey.

He had flashed an amused smile. His straight teeth were blindingly white. “It should be. It’s my mother tongue, after all.”

Asha’s mouth gaped in horror. “You stole your mother’s tongue?”

The man had exchanged a look with Sarah before they both burst in laughter.

Today, he wore an expensive linen suit and fancy hat, the kind she’d seen on movie stars. Although Sarah and he spoke English, his voice pronounced words in a clipped, delicate fashion. Asha hid herself behind the shrubbery. She’d never seen Sister Sarah yell. The scene was far too intriguing to let her conscious interfere with the fact she was eavesdropping again, despite Sarah’s stern warnings.

“Don’t make me feel guilty,” Sarah said.

“Is that what you think I’m doing, Sarah? I’m trying to make you see reason. I want to save you from this.”

“This is where I belong.”

He was quiet for a minute. “She’s a pretty girl.”

“Beauty fades. Her best feature is her aptitude and intelligence.”

“Does it even make a difference here?”

“I believe it does.” Sarah pushed a newspaper toward him. “Have you read this?”

“I can’t say I have. The local papers don’t make my required periodicals list. I doubt there’s an abundance of business news in it.”

Sarah tapped the paper as if to drive in her words like nails. “Another girl was found in the jungle today. That’s six girls in one year, in this region alone.”

“This has been going on for centuries. It’s culturally ingrained.”

Sarah shook her head. “It’s an economic problem at its roots. Girls require a large investment, a debt that is never repaid. Boys, on the other hand, allow a family to prosper, bringing in additional income. The problem’s actually getting worse. It’s an epidemic.”

“You can’t save all of them,” his said, clenching his perfect teeth.

“A wave starts with a single ripple.”

“My dear, delusional girl, I’m afraid you’re attempting to tame a tsunami. Besides, you’ve done enough, haven’t you? She’s alive and healthy.”

“She needs me still. I need her, too.”

She heard a loud banging on the table as if the man slammed his hand down. “This quest is a fool’s endeavor.”

“Then I am a fool.”

“What does that make me?” His voice was slightly above a whisper, yet it sounded as if he was scolding her. Asha’s fists curled. She did not care for this man at all. No one spoke to the good Sister with such disrespect.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Sarah said.

“I came to deliver a check for your charity, my dear.”

“Don’t be coy. You came for a different purpose. We shouldn’t be alone together.”

Asha had never heard a sad laugh in her life. It seemed a contradiction, but that was what the man’s laugh sounded like.

“Is it better to be alone apart, love?”

“Don’t.”

“Who should I be angry at? God or the girl?”

“I hope you’re referring to me when you say the girl because I, and I alone, am the one to blame.”

“Sarah, you know you belong with me…to me.”

She stood up and walked to the far side of the garden. Asha retreated farther into the thick growth that separated Sarah’s cottage and the school. When the man approached Sarah, he placed his hand on her shoulder. Even through the obstruction of branches, Asha saw the woman’s body shake as the sobs overtook her.

“Why do you even want me anymore? Why?” she screamed, hitting his chest. Although she didn’t understand, tears fell from Asha’s cheeks, rolling though the brightly colored powder decorating her face.

The man grabbed Sarah’s wrists and stilled them. “I’m going home, Sarah. That’s what I came to say to you. I’m leaving for London in less than a fortnight. Come with me.”

There was a long silence. Asha cupped her hand over her mouth and nose to conceal her sneeze. Sarah said something too low for Asha’s ears. Then he was talking again. He talked a great deal…too much. “You don’t even allow me the catharsis of hating you with all your damn righteous benevolence.”

Asha pushed aside some thicket, and through the opening of the vines, she witnessed a scene so shocking she almost screamed. The man had his hand on Sarah’s back and his mouth on hers. The evil man was attempting to pilfer Sarah’s breath just as he stole his own mother’s tongue. The little girl almost bolted into the clearing, ready to defend Sarah, but her knees gave out when Sarah’s hand caressed his cheek.

It dawned on Asha she’d observed a kiss, something she’d read about in fairy tales and theorized were rare, magical events. She’d never witnessed one. Her parents never kissed. They didn’t even hug. There were no displays of public affection in the village, at least not between adults.

“I’m going to hell,” Sarah said.

“I would chance an eternity in hell, because in you, I have found heaven.”

She pushed him away. “Go home, my sweet prince. Take a wife. Make your life. I’ll pray for you.”

His expression turned cold. “Save your prayers, Sarah. I don’t desire or deserve them.” He sighed and kissed her once more on the forehead. “I will always love you.” His voice had lowered to the volume of defeat, low and grim.

Sarah stood in a rigid stance, watching him walk away. When he was no longer visible, the nun slowly made her way back to the chair, her shoulders slumped unnaturally as she fell into the seat, as if she carried an invisible weight on them.

“I will always love you, too,” Sarah said, although he was no longer there to hear it…but Asha did.

Sarah buried her head in her hands. At first, Asha thought she might be praying, but then the sound came, a defeated, angry cry like she’d never heard. Sarah might be cross with the little girl for spying, but Asha had to comfort her. She covered the distance between them until she stood in front of the woman.

“Sister.”

Sarah looked up at her. “Naughty girl,” Sarah chided. “You know better, young lady.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You mustn’t tell.”

“I promise,” she said, although the whole secret wasn’t clear to her. “Why are you crying, Sister?”

“I am sad.”

“Did that man hurt you?”

“No child, I hurt him.”

Sarah held her arms out, and even though Asha was too big to sit in her lap, she did. The colorful powder made from spices rubbed off Asha’s face onto Sarah’s dress. She tried to wipe it away, but the bright stain simply deepened.

Sarah held onto her, and somehow Asha knew not to speak too much. She waited for Sarah’s tears to subside. It was apparent the man had caused much damage to Asha’s very special friend and teacher.

“One day, I will make him suffer for your tears, Sister,” Asha said with great drama and conviction.

“Asha, we don’t talk in such ways. Remember, your name means hope. Promise me you will always be the peacekeeper.”

Asha nodded, although silently she rationalized there were times when one had to make war to secure peace. And any man who made Sarah cry should be punished severely because, surely, this was a sin of great magnitude.

“I promise, sister,” she said to appease Sarah. She tugged on the nun’s skirt. “Come to the festival with me, sister. It will make you joyful again. The seasons are changing, and everyone is happy today.”

Sarah’s mouth curved slightly. After a few more pleading looks from Asha, she finally agreed. Hand in hand, they walked together toward town. Asha fit in with her clothes sprinkled in every possible color of the earth. Sarah looked odd and strange in her long western dress stained with pink powder.

Asha stopped at the temple and bowed before a plaster statue of an elephant-headed man.

“Do you know Ganesha, the Elephant God?” Asha asked Sarah as if she was making an introduction.

“I know of him,” Sarah said. “I’m aware of his origin and how he came to have an elephant’s head.”

Asha sighed, unimpressed. “Everyone knows that story, but did you know that Ganesha is the remover of obstacles?”

“How did he get such a prestigious title, little one?”

Asha smiled with excitement. The chance to teach her brilliant teacher presented a rare opportunity.

“Many stories exist, but there is one which is my most favorite. Shall I tell you?”

“Yes, please,” Sarah said, her sadness appearing to lessen.

Asha not only told the story, but she acted it out with gestures and dancing. “Lord Shiva and Goddess Parvathi were a divine couple. They lived with their two divine children, Ganesha and his older brother Karthik. The two brothers were as opposite as the sun and moon. Ganesha was fat with a big belly and an elephant’s head.” Asha jutted her belly out, which made Sarah laugh. “Unlike his brother, Karthik was a beautiful boy full of strength and energy. The brothers loved each other very much, and they had great love and devotion to their parents, who were the rulers of the universe.”

“Rulers of the universe? My, that’s a hard act to follow,” Sarah said.

“Yes, it is, but both boys were smart and wise. One day, the other Gods began to question which one should take over for Shiva and Parvathi. They had a competition to decide.”

“A competition?” Sister Sarah asked.

“Yes, the boy who could go around the world three times and return home first would be the best one.

Karthik, an athlete, immediately mounted his vehicle, the peacock, and rushed off on his voyage. He raced with great speed and grace. Ganesha was slow and fat. His vehicle was a rat.”

“A rat?” Sarah asked in surprise.

“Yes, Sister. A rat cannot beat a peacock.” The child sliced her hand through the air and shook her head as if to cement her point. “No way.”

“Certainly not,” Sarah agreed.

Asha smiled, tapping her head three times. “But wisdom is in the brain, not the body, and Ganesha didn’t need a vehicle at all. While Karthik flew around the world at lightening fast speeds, Ganesha circled his parents at a very slow pace. Once, twice, three times.” The girl demonstrated by walking three lazy circles around Sarah.

“His father asked Ganesha why he wasn’t racing and allowing his brother to win. Ganesha explained he had already won. Both parents were confused at first, but not after Ganesha enlightened them.”

The storyteller paused for affect, waiting for her audience to demand a conclusion. Sarah didn’t disappoint. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense, dear. How did he win?”

“He said, ‘I’m your son, and to me, you two are my whole world. Why should I go farther to win the contest? Circling you is the same as going around the universe.’”

“From that day on, it was decided Ganesha was indeed the wisest of the brothers. He teaches us any obstacle can be overcome, that solutions aren’t always obvious, and to honor your parents above all.”

Sarah clapped her hands. “You are a wonderful storyteller, Asha. What a valuable lesson.”

“Come, Sister,” Asha said, putting her hand in the nun’s and leading her to town where the tossing of colors took place. Men and women sprayed colored water on each other while dancing to the beat of a dholak, a two-handed drum. Children ran through the crowds with water balloons, carefully surveying the scene for their next targets. Asha heard the villager’s whispering about the strange duo of a little girl and the tall white woman. It wasn’t the kind of atmosphere in which one would expect to find a Catholic nun.

Then again, Sarah and Asha were both peculiar in their own ways. Neither female was suited for the expectations of propriety set by others.