Ravi

One day we will all live in France and eat nothing but cake

Ravi always knew when she was about to arrive because of the sound her land rovers engine made. It was a deep metallic roar that was in stark contrast to the high pitch putting of the rickshaws or the ambassadors that drove by on Chanakapuri for most of the day. The engines sound was also distinct from those emitted by the big diesel trucks that rumbled past at night carrying their cargo all across India. Ravi thought the Land rovers sound was clean and meticulous, the product of a new V-8 diesel engine. He knew that it was a V-8 because sometimes when the Australian lady was inside with the children Om Prakash the driver would proudly show him the gleaming metal mechanism that resided under the hood. When Ravi heard the engine rev, as it turned the corner near the orphanage, a grin would quickly dart across his face. He would leap from his stool and rush to the large blue metal gate that kept the world out of the orphanage. Just as the old gate began to slowly swing open he would replace the exuberant grin with the stern fixed glare of someone who was given the important duty of being in charge of opening the gate. Ravi was twelve, the oldest child still at Mother Teresa’s Missionaries of charity. The nearest child was Ramani. She was only nine, and since Ravi was tall for his age he towered over her and the 45 other children. Once the gate was opened and the sleek grey Land rover had passed through Ravi would quickly slam the gate shut and race to open the Australian ladies door. He loved the feeling of the burst of air-conditioning that would greet him.
“Why thank you Ravi.”
“Memsahib.” Ravi was fascinated by how the minute the Australian lady stepped out of the car she would instantly start to sweat. It wasn’t just her, all of the foreign couples that visited the orphanage looking to complete their families suffered in the same way. The Swiss couple who had adopted Aarti looked like they had just finished swimming as they carefully loaded her into a waiting taxi. Even though the sudden explosion of perspiration coupled with the gang attack of the orphans, streaming out of the orphanage, then latching on to every available part of the Australian lady amused Ravi more than almost anything, he made sure to keep his stern grown up face immaculate until the orphans had led her away. All of them screaming.
“Teacher, teacher.” All trying to get and keep her attention. Only once the posse of kids and their captive had made their way well into the building did Ravi allow himself to smile.
One day as the Land Rover rolled in through the gate Ravi noticed that there was someone else in the car with the Australian lady. It turned out to be her son. He was a boy, but not like Ravi, he already had a beard and the longest hair that Ravi had ever seen on a man who wasn’t a Sikh. The boy was tall and very dark for a gora. Ravi loved his sunglasses; they made him look like an American film star, one of the new ones. When they went inside Ravi broke with tradition, following them into the classroom. He stood at the entrance partially covered by the door. The children were scattered around the classroom, some were tugging on teachers pant legs while others climbed up onto a bench and began launching themselves at the boy. He easily caught each of them, lifted them effortlessly above his head then gently placed them on the ground before catching the next assailant. His sunglasses were now perched on top of his head. Ravi knew what he would ask from Jesus for Christmas.
The teacher called the class together; the children slowly made their way to their seats, as always fightiing over who got to sit where. Veelal saw his chance and rushed the boy flying off the bench at top speed. The boy smoothly caught even Veelal the big bruiser, spun him around twice and landed him in an empty seat. The teacher began.
“Good morning class.”
“Good morning teacher.” The children roared in response.
“Today is Monday.”
“Today is Monday.”
“Today’s letter is G.”
“Today’s letter is GEEEE!”
“G is for gorilla, gorilla.” As the teacher pointed to a picture of a gorilla in one of her books she began to move around flailing her arms about her like a demented monkey. The children exploded into laughter. The boy in the corner smiled shaking his head. Ravi smiled shaking his head too. The boy had on a black t-shirt with the ohm symbol on it and big baggy green shorts that went well past his knees. Ravi looked down at his own short tight pair and winced as he hid himself further behind the door.
“Ravi what are you doing?” Ravi spun around startled.
“Nothing sister.”
“I need you to go to the market and get some chapattis for lunch.”
“Yes sister.”
Ravi as the oldest was given extra chores, but he also got some perks. His rosary was real silver, not the coarse plastic given to those children. He also got a comb. He would spend hours combing his hair in order to get it to look like the posters of his favorite film star Aamir Khan or when he felt adventurous Askay Kumar the great action star from Asoka. Ravis favorite chore was also his favorite reward. When the nuns needed something from the market they would always send him. He loved getting past the walls of the orphanage and into the real world, with the hectic noise and the bustle of the crowded streets of Bombay. He would take his time, fascinated by the brightly decorated trucks and the insane dangerous driving of the buses. A three legged street dog who Ravi called Tripod would always follow him to the market. Running to keep up she would bark at the other street dogs, chase cows and generally make a nuisance of herself. The sisters would give Ravi a few extra paisa to buy himself a little treat, usually some mango or papaya. He would share this with tripod as he walked home. The only thing that Ravi didn’t like about going to the market was that he would always have to pass the toddy shop. The Toddy shop was little more than the front room of an old house. It was a simple and concrete with a few tables. There was little if any light even at mid day. The place sold only two drinks feni or toddy. Both were strong thick drinks that stained your lips teeth and gums, toddy stained them orange while with feni it was almost a rust color. From out of the depths of the Toddy shop Nandan would always come out and yell at him
“Tell Jesus to come in. He owes me a drink.” Nandan had worked at the orphanage doing odd jobs for the sisters. He would have Ravi sit on his lap as he gave him candy and told him what a good boy he was. Ravi remembered that he always smelt of rich tar and smoke because of the strong bidi cigarettes he liked. Ravi didn’t know why Nandan had been fired, one day he was there, then he wasn’t. Then a few days later he was at the toddy shop. He had been there every time that Ravi had walked pass ever since. Sometimes even passed out right in front. At first Ravi had been upset that Nandan had left since Nandan had promised to teach him to spin bowl. But now? Well maybe the Australian boy would teach him. Every one knew that Australia was a cricket mad country, maybe madder then even India. That’s it the Australian would teach him to spin bowl.
When Ravi returned from his trips he would tell the other children of the adventures he had. They would gather around him, listening intently to every word, yelling out questions. Ravi liked to make up stories about famous people he had seen, of shootouts between the police and masked robbers and of pretty girls who had winked at him. The truth is that only one person had ever winked at him, an older lady with a big gut protruding from her sari. Ravi had been so embarrassed he ran away, quickly turning pink. The children would also ask Ravi about France. Most of the children adopted from the orphanage went to French couples. Because of this the children viewed France not as a country but as a mystical place maybe just a little like heaven. They thought the world consisted of two places: India and France. This reality made the teachers geography lessons somewhat doomed. When she would bring out her inflatable globe and point to India asking
“What country is this?” they would yell out.
“India.” But if she was to point to another country like Australia or America they would excitedly offer. “France.” The teacher soon abandoned geography to concentrate more on maths and English. Still the children would ask Ravi about France, he would tell them fantastic stories about giant gleaming castles and big white horses. Most of the younger kids still though that one day they would live in France, ride horses and eat nothing but cake. When the children asked Ravi if he would be going to France too, he would sadly tell them that he was too old. Besides the sisters needed him here. Anyway he didn’t want to live in a place were they didn’t play cricket, no matter how wonderful it was.
The Australian boy came every weekday with his mother, except Thursdays, which was prayer day. As Ravi was supposed to be reciting the Rosary he would instead daydream that the Australian lady would adopt him, then he and the boy would play cricket on the beach. Afterwards the boy would teach him how to surf. Ravi knew that the boy liked surfing because he wore lots of shirts with surf boards on them. Ravi also knew that...
“Ravi, why are you smiling?”
“No reason sister.”
“Do you think that Jesus on the cross is funny?”
“No sister.”
“Do you think our savior was smiling when they put the crown of thorns on him?”
“No sister.”
“Then maybe you should take your praying a little more seriously considering all that Jesus has done for you.”
“Yes sister.” Ravi wondered if he and the boy would share a room. Of course they would, they would have bunk beds and even though Ravi was younger he would get the top bunk.
One day when the Land Rover pulled in the boy was not in it. Ravi began to panic. Had the boy left? Would he ever come back? Ravi felt like he was going to cry, but instead he kept his face straight. Later on Teacher told Deenus that the boy had had his tooth pulled and that he would be at home for the rest of the week but that he would be back Monday. Of course, Ravi exclaimed that was it. The boy wasn’t going to leave him. It took for ever for Monday to arrive, and the time between when Ravi woke and when he first heard the car took even longer. Ravi fumbled with the latch and darted for the car not caring if he had closed the gate properly. When the car door opened and the boy got out he was wearing a black t-shirt that said Nirvana in yellow letters. His left cheek was still slightly swollen but he smiled at Ravi. Ravi beamed back.
“Good day Ravi.”
“Hello sir.”
“Great shorts mate.” Ravi was overwhelmed that he had noticed. Because Ravi had become so self conscious about his own shorts the gardener had given him and old pair of his. They were of course much too big and Ravi had spent the last few days holding his shorts up so they wouldn’t slide off of his thin frame. The sisters thought he was crazy but Ravi knew he looked great. Finally one of the sisters took pity on him and gave him a piece of rope he could use as a makeshift belt. Ravi, feeling confident in his new shorts, was about to ask the boy about his tooth when one of the sisters tapped him on the shoulder.
“Ravi I need you to go to the market and get me some masala and some fresh limes.”
“Okay, sister.”
“Maybe you could get a hair cut while you’re out.”
“I like my hair long sister.” Ravi yelled as he skipped away hoping to get back before the Australians left.
When on a Wednesday the boy didn’t come Ravi wondered what was wrong with him this time. Yet by Friday his curiosity was killing him. Ravi finally got up the courage to ask the Australian lady as she was getting into her car where the boy was.
“Oh Ravi, Ian has gone back to Australia… That’s where he lives and goes to University…He was only out for the summer…Didn’t he say goodbye?..Well I’m sure he meant to.” She slammed the door and sped off. Ravi stood there motionless.
“Ravi, don’t just stand there, close the gate before all of the stray dogs get in.”
“Yes sister.” Ravi spent the rest of the day alone in a corner far away from the central building of the orphanage. He thought about how foolish all of his dreams about cricket on the beach were. He was twelve, no one would want to adopt him when they could have one of the cute little babies that lived in the nursery. After hours of swimming through self-pity one of the nuns came out of the main building and began to walk towards him. Ravi got ready for the talk that was coming, about how he had a good life and should be glad that he isn’t one of those street kids who had to steal just to eat. How he was so lucky that…The sisters pace seemed much brisker than usual.
“Ravi, Reshmas fever has come back. I need you to go to the chemists and get some medicine. Mr. Gupta will tell you which one.”
“Sister.”
“Yes Ravi?”
“Tomorrow maybe will you cut my hair?”
“Of course Ravi Now go. Hurry.” It was already dark when Ravi started out. About five minutes into the trip tripod came from beneath a pile of garbage to walk with him. She was however quiet, no barking or shooting off after well anything that moved, instead she patiently walked along side Ravi keeping up stride for stride. The trip to the chemist was uneventful; Ravi lost in a maze of thoughts didn’t seem to notice anything until from somewhere in reality a voice asked.
“So, does God know that you are out after dark?” Ravi knew who the voice belonged to so there was no need to turn around. “Hey, did you ever learn to spin bowl?” Ravi paused for just a brief second, but it was enough for the voice. “Come here Ravi, I can teach you the basics quickly, the sisters won’t miss you.” Ravi turned around and walked up the stairs to the opening of the toddy shop. Tripod followed him as far as the steps but then she stopped. She looked up at Ravi and began to whine.
Nandan still smelled strongly of bidis but now the smell was accompanied by the strong almost violent odor of toddy. Though he had only left the orphanage a few months earlier, Ravi noticed his face was trenched with wrinkles and his once jet-black hair was succumbing to the assault of grey. Ravi looked past Nandan and into the Toddy shop; it was nearly empty with only a few souls left. Some drinking, most staring intently into the bottom of their glasses as if there was something that they contained so wonderful and enigmatic that it required their full attention. Though it was a cool night a bead of sweat trickled down Ravis brow and escaped off of his cheek; he took a brief step back only to find that Nandan had nimbly positioned himself so that he could place his arm around Ravi. Nandan then led Ravi into the depths of the shop bringing him to a table in the corner even darker then the rest of the place. Ravi could smell the acid of fresh vomit mixed with the festering putrid ness that could only be achieved by months of men sweating in this awful place. The smell was so strong that it dragged Ravi out of the fog of self pity that had surrounded him; he was met with one sharp, clear and overriding desire, to go home. He made an attempt to move towards the door but Nandans once friendly grip on his shoulder tightened. Fear began to well up inside him.
“How old are you now?”
“Twelve.”
“You are tall and athletic. You like sports?” Ravi didn’t know how to answer. “Yes of course you do, all boys love sports, at least the good ones. Are you a good boy Ravi?”
“Yes”
“What was that I couldn’t hear you?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t think you are a good boy. I think that now you are a good man.” Nandan cackled and slapped Ravi on the back. Ravi didn’t understand why he was laughing. “A man yes. You are a man, and we men sometimes like a drink. Would you like a drink Mister Ravi?” For the first time Ravi noticed the glass on the table, it was full of a thick sticky orange substance. The glass was filthy, Ravi stared at it then at Nandans stained grin, then back to the glass. He wondered if he took one drink would that be enough? Would Nandan let him go? Nandans eyes glazed over for a second, then he looked at Ravis chest. “What is this? Ah they finally got you a nice silver one.” He clutched the rosary in his grubby hands. “Sell this Ravi and we can have Toddy and fun for a week. You like fun yes Ravi?” Ravi began to look around the room at the other men. No one seemed to notice that a small child had wondered into their universe.”Why do you wear this, do you think that Jesus will protect you from the real world. Ha, Jesus and those nuns are all crazy. But we’re not crazy are we Ravi? We used to have fun didn’t we, remember, remember.” Ravi looked around the shop again hoping that something would change, that the walls would melt away. That this surreal scene would become his safe bed with Sujan snoring loudly nearby. But the walls remained solid and Nandan moved his face closer, his breath was toxic and Ravi leaned back as far as he could. “We could have fun again.” He slowly stroked Ravis thigh. Ravi began to shake. Nandan loosened his grip on the rosary and Ravi began to back away towards the door. Nandan went to grab the rosary with his other hand but tripped over a chair and Ravi was out the door and down the street. As he ran he heard laughter then shouting then the hard pounding of footsteps behind him. Ravi desperately tried to run faster, the footsteps were almost upon him when he heard barking, the footsteps ceased then there was yelling and a horrific squeal and the footsteps began up again. Ravi knew that he couldn’t keep running much longer. He was sucking in air harder and faster but no matter how much air he sucked in he couldn’t breath, his veins felt like they were pumping acid. As he slowed the footsteps got louder, with tears streaming down his face he glanced around and started down a dark alley. The ally curled around but then ended abruptly with a high brick wall. There was a dumpster near the wall and Ravi thought about climbing the dumpster then jumping to the wall, but he knew he could never make it. With nothing else to do he wedged himself in behind the dumpster. He thought he heard footsteps, but it was just his heart pounding, desperate to escape from his ribcage. Then Ravi knew something was there. He heard the rustling and saw its shadow move closer coming at him around the corner. The shadow was big and getting bigger. Then it was almost on him, Ravi screamed his eyes clenched shut his whole body braced. Nothing happened. After a lifetime of imagining all the worst things in the world Ravi slowly opened one eye and was confronted by the long uninterested gaze of a cow slowly chewing. It had obviously been rummaging through the garbage when Ravi had disturbed it. He released a nervous giggle.
“Silly cow you scared me.” He patted the cow on one of its misshapen horns and commented. “In France they would eat you for dinner for scaring children like that.” Ravi stood next to the cow, drawing comfort from its big, docile, body; he listened for the sounds of footsteps but instead heard only the far of engines of trucks carrying their cargo on the outer ring road. Ravi began to walk towards the alleys entrance. He turned back to take on last look at the cow. It had gone back to rummaging through the rubbish. Maybe one day he would tell the Australian about the cow, yes he would tell the Australian and they would both laugh. Ravi began to whistle to himself for company. Nandan must have passed out, he would be in a gutter somewhere, yes Ravi liked to picture him in a gutter, no a sewer. Now Ravi began to picture sandy beaches, and riding horses that were ridiculously tall and tables full of nothing but cakes and sweats. As Ravi was about to exit the alley a hand shot out from the darkness and grabbed him by the neck. He was so scared that he couldn’t remember if he screamed.

An exert from the Bombay Times By reporter Shaheen Mansuri. September 12th
The Body of a boy aged eleven to fourteen was discovered at the Rachananara municipal rubbish dump on the eastern edge of Bombay. It was unearthed by a group of kachriwalis at about four in the morning on September the 11th. The body had been doused in gasoline and set alight so there is little chance of every discovering the boy’s true identity. Lead investigator Rootig Jain believes this to be another sad case of a street kid who has tumbled through the cracks of society and into the waiting arms of organized crime. Constable Jain believes the boy to have been a participant in petty theft as he was found to be in the possession of a silver rosary.