The Best Day of My Life

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Authors: Deborah Ellis

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The Best Day of My Life

The Best Day
of My Life

Deborah ELLIS

This edition first published in 2012
First published in Canada and the USA in 2011 by Groundwood Books

Copyright © Deborah Ellis, 2011

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The
Australian Copyright Act 1968
(the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or ten per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to Copyright Agency Limited (CAL) under the Act.

Allen & Unwin
83 Alexander Street
Crows Nest NSW 2065
Australia
Phone:   (61 2) 8425 0100
Fax:       (61 2) 9906 2218
Email:    [email protected]
Web:      
www.allenandunwin.com

A Cataloguing-in-Publication entry is available from the National Library of Australia
www.trove.nla.gov.au

ISBN
978 1 74237 914 2

Teachers' notes available from
www.allenandunwin.com

Cover and text design by Sandra Nobes
Cover photo by Getty Images
Set in 13 pt Adobe Garamond by Tou-Can Design

Printed in Australia by McPherson's Printing Group

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank the folks at the Leprosy
Mission Hospital in Kolkata, India, for letting me
hang out with them and celebrate their work.

To those who are not truly seen

Contents

1 The Best Day of My Life

2 The Moving Mountain

3 The Butterfly Woman

4 Soap

5 Dead Englishmen

6 Talking with the Gods

7 The River

8 Beautiful Blood

9 The Dead Man

10 Pizza

11 Feet

12 A Decision

13 Clean

14 A New Type of Roti

15 Midnight Clear

Author's Note

Glossary

About the author

1

The Best Day of My Life

T
he best day of my life was the day I found out I was all alone in the world.

This is how it happened.

I was picking up coal.

No. I was supposed to be picking up coal, but I wasn't. I was tired of picking up coal. I was tired of coal.

Being tired of coal in Jharia is no good, because coal is all there is in Jharia. There is coal in pits and coal in piles and coal in mines under the ground. There is coal on the roads and coal in people's hair and coal in people's chests that makes them cough and cough.

There is even coal in the air. It comes up through cracks in the earth from the coal fires that have been burning under the town for nearly one hundred years.

If you're a man, you work in the mines or the pits, hacking at the coal with pickaxes and shovels.

If you're a woman, you walk up the narrow steep trails with large heavy baskets of coal on your head.

If you're a child, you run around and pick up any stray lumps of coal you can find. If the bosses see you doing this they'll chase you, and they'll hit you if they catch you. So you have to move fast.

On this very happy day I was supposed to be picking up coal. I had my coal bag over my shoulder. There was a bit of coal in it but not very much. Instead of running around the coal fields, I was trying to convince the shopkeeper that I had a coin in my hand.

‘Let me see it,' said Mr Bannerjee. He sat in his chair and flicked his horsetail fly swatter around.

‘Oh, it's right here,' I said, holding up my clenched fist.

‘What is it? Twenty paisas? Ten? You can buy one sweet, maybe two. Choose, and then pay and go.'

I stretched out the moment before I replied. Mr Bannerjee had a tiny television set in his shop, on a shelf next to the jars of skin-whitening cream. The picture it showed was fizzy, and it jumped up and down, but I could still see the Bollywood dancers. I waved my head the way the dancers did, trying to remember the steps to try later.

‘Choose. Then pay and go,' he repeated.

Mr Bannerjee's shop was made of scrap wood and old cardboard boxes, and it was completely open on one side. He slept in it at night to keep thieves away. But he didn't want anyone watching his TV unless they were customers.

‘What did you say?'

‘You heard what I said!' Mr Bannerjee waved his fly swatter in bigger circles, but I wasn't worried. He didn't like to leave his chair. It was a bit of a game I played sometimes, seeing how long I could watch his television before he chased me away.

He knew I didn't really have any money. I never had any money.

I managed to stay a few moments longer. Then the TV went to full fizz, and there was no point in hanging around.

I wandered down to the railway tracks, picking up bits of coal when I saw them but not putting any effort into looking.

Piles of trash lined the tracks. Ragpickers and goats poked through it.

I stayed away from the bigger piles of garbage. I didn't feel like getting into an argument, and ragpickers sometimes guarded their territory.

I kept my eyes on my feet and shuffled garbage around with my toes. I wished I was a goat. Goats ate everything. If I was a goat, I would never be hungry.

‘Hey, there's Valli. Valli, come and throw rocks with us or we'll throw rocks at you.'

I looked up. Some of my cousins were out on the tracks with their friends. None of them liked me. I didn't know why.

‘She won't. She's too scared.'

That was my cousin Sanjay. He was my size and never forgave me for the time I beat him up when we were younger. I wasn't allowed to eat until he was finished, and then I was given whatever food was left on his plate. He started stuffing himself, just to watch me be hungry. I stood it for three days. Then I let him have it. Smashed the metal plate down on his stupid head. I got a beating from my uncle for it, but Sanjay always left at least some food behind after that.

He got back at me in other ways, though. Sneaky ways. Like kicking me at night so it was hard to go to sleep. He called me names like pig-face and dirt-brain. I tried to insult him back but my words didn't have as much power as his. He knew he was worth more than me. We both knew it.

I was afraid to throw rocks but I couldn't let him see that. And I couldn't let his friends see that I was scared. If they did, they would be on me faster than a goat on garbage.

I walked quickly into the middle of the pack and picked up a rock.

Just looking at the targets made me shake.

On the other side of the tracks, a stone's throw away, monsters lived among the garbage dumps and dung heaps. Their faces were not human. Some had no noses. Some had hands without fingers that they waved in the air as they tried to protect their heads from our rocks.

But I didn't care, as long as they stayed on their side of the tracks. They were unclean, foul creatures. They carried the sins of a former life, and if you got too close, they would turn you into one of them.

That's what my uncle said.

‘You eat too much!' he would scream, when the pain in his chest got bad and he had no money for drink to make it better. ‘I'll break your arms and send you down the tracks to beg with those animals! You are a curse to me!'

And then, in the night, his voice quiet and his breath in my ear, telling me to make no noise or the monsters would grab me in my sleep, drag me away and tear me apart. And I would tremble and bite my lip and pray to the gods for the sun to rise.

I pulled my arm back to get ready for the throw.

I closed my eyes and let my rock fly. I didn't know if it hit one of them or not.

One of the stones came flying back at us.

Sanjay bent down to pick it up.

‘Don't touch it! You'll turn into a monster just like them,' one of my cousin's friends shouted. ‘That's one of the ways they get their victims.'

Sanjay picked up another rock instead. They were all too busy throwing and laughing to pay attention to me.

I slipped back until I was behind the group.

The boys had dropped their coal bags to free their arms for throwing stones. Their bags had coal in them. Coal that would look better in my bag than it did in theirs.

I crouched down. In an instant I grabbed one of the coal bags and started to run.

I managed to take a few steps before a kid slammed me with a thud into the dirt.

‘Thief! Coal thief! Coal thief!'

The others piled on top of me. I swung my arms and kicked and tried to get away. But I couldn't throw off so many kids.

They worked together, pounding me and pulling my hair. They lifted me up. I saw the ground fall away.

‘Throw her to the monsters!'

‘Let them eat her. That will teach her!'

I screamed. I tried harder to get away from their clutches. I pulled and twisted, but they hung on tight.

They carried me over the railway tracks, getting closer to the monsters with every step.

And then they threw me.

And I landed. Right in the middle of the monsters.

I landed on monster arms and legs and laps and elbows. I was smothered by rags and dirt and bodies.

I could feel them reaching for me, grabbing at me, bumping up against me. I knew they were getting ready to eat me or tear me apart.

I screamed. I breathed in filth and foulness and felt like I was going to throw up.

I could hear the kids laughing on the other side of the tracks. They would stand there and watch me be torn to shreds and devoured, and they would just keep on laughing.

I punched and kicked and twisted until I broke free and rolled away, hitting my head on the track rail. Then I jumped to my feet and ran.

I ran with my eyes full of tears. I stepped in dung and pushed people out of my way, but I didn't care. I bolted across the tracks and screamed as a train whistle blew.

I left the tracks and walked back to the coal fields. I walked until the shakiness left me and I could feel a bit of victory.

I had escaped from the monsters. They hadn't eaten me.

And then I kept walking because I had no place to go, no place where people wanted me to be with them. I kept on walking because I didn't know what else to do.

Then I heard the bell.

It was a bicycle bell, ringing over and over, getting closer and closer.

Along with the ringing, a man's voice called out.

‘School today! Free school! Everyone is welcome at my school! Come to school today!'

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