Who Will Catch Us As We Fall (18 page)

‘Show this Kikuyu
some respect? Shouldn't he be cleaning your toilet or something?'

The two boys were standing chest to chest, staring at each other for an awful eternity before Tag finally took a step back. He growled at Leena, ‘I hope you won't get us into any trouble. Why are you here, anyway? Did your Barbie break?'

‘Leave her alone.' It was Michael who said this.

Tag bared his teeth, saying to the boys behind him, ‘Come on, let's go.'

It was a game of theirs – who could go through the market and come out with the most stolen fruit. Jai won this every time, and although Leena didn't think it was right, she didn't mind because he always shared it with the street boys lurking outside.

It was the one activity Michael refused to participate in and when she asked him why, he gave her that secretive, all-knowing grin. ‘It's much easier to forgive a
muhindi
for stealing than an African.'

The game had started weeks ago and the fruit sellers must have caught on because it wasn't long before a woman let up a cry.

‘He's stolen my apples!'

The three of them turned in the direction of the shout and saw one of the boys from the compound struggling to get out of the grip of one of the women sellers.

‘We better help him before there's a fight,' Michael said, and took off toward the commotion with Jai.

‘Stay here,' her bother called over his shoulder.

But it was too exciting to miss and so she ran after them, stumbling on the uneven, bumpy ground and watching as Jai and Michael attempted to pry the lady's hands away from the boy. From where she was standing, she noticed that some of the men from stalls further down had emerged to see what the noise was about.

She called out, ‘Jai, we have to go otherwise we'll be in trouble.'

Her brother bit down hard into the woman's hand, causing her to squeal and release the boy, who dropped a load of tangerines, oranges and mangoes in his rush to get away.

‘Hurry up,' Michael said.

They headed toward the exit and Leena followed but their pace was too fast and she tripped and fell, grazing her knee, a deep pounding in her elbow. When she looked up, Jai was already out of sight. Tears stung her eyes when she thought of all the mothers who had stopped to look, who must have recognized her from Flat 15, shaking their heads and tittering. One of them was sure to tell her mother what had happened.

And then there he was. His chest rising in hard breaths, standing above her with his eyebrows creased but still smiling.

‘Get on,' he instructed, crouching down half-way.

She climbed onto Michael's back, felt the strange sensation of being too close to a boy who wasn't her brother and her heart raced, although she was too young to fully comprehend why. He began to run easily, never stumbling, away from the shouts, weaving in and out of stalls that passed her in momentary bursts of color. His words rushed in her ears, ‘Hold on tight, isn't this fun? Everything is going to be okay,' even though somehow, she already knew it was.

Pooja slammed down the phone, gritting her teeth.
That girl! That boy! Her husband!
Thinking about everyone else except for her. Never considering the embarrassment she had to put up with, the defending she had to do when the ladies at the temple heard these kinds of stories.
Poor Raj, getting cheated by one of them. Aren't you worried about Jai, tossing ball with your maid's son? Oh, your daughter…
Pooja grunted at this last memory, for it was the worst one –
your daughter is a little thief.

She replayed the conversation she had just had with Harinder on the telephone. How concerned the other woman had pretended to be while informing Pooja, quite delightedly, about Leena's antics.

‘I just heard about Leena.'

‘What about her?' Pooja had huddled close to the corridor wall, cupping her palm against the receiver so that the words were caught in the basket of her hand, for no one else to hear.

Harinder had tried to sound sorry, but Pooja could detect the joviality rounding her words, making them skip. ‘Some of the women were shopping at the market today and they saw Leena stealing apples.'

Pooja had frozen, staring at the phone in disbelief. ‘That can't be true.'

‘She was with your maid's boy. They were running away together.' A click of a tongue. ‘I would be very careful, letting her spend all that time with him – first Tag's money and then this. People are beginning to talk.'

‘Thank you for telling me.' Pooja put the phone down.
Her daughter and that boy!
If she was acting this way now, who was going to want to marry her when she was older?

‘Isn't she a little young for you to be worrying about that?' Raj looked up from his newspaper as Pooja came shouting into the living room. It was close to five o'clock and the children were upstairs. She could hear Angela in the kitchen, whistling as she cooked dinner. She heard the light pitter-patter
of Michael's feet as he helped her.

‘People remember such things,' she snapped at him, taking a seat on the opposite couch. ‘They'll talk and talk and never forget.'

She saw the way the other women glanced at each other when she was around, nice to her face but whispering behind her back.
Pooja doesn't know how to run her own house, doesn't know how to control her children or her husband.
Soon, she would be the brunt of all their jokes and even worse, so would her daughter.

‘Tomorrow, there will be another story occupying their attention.'

‘I told you I didn't want him in my house. All this nonsense started when he got here,' she hissed, careful not to be overheard.

‘He's just a boy – there's no use blaming him.'

‘Doesn't it concern you? Our daughter taking the fall when he was the one who stole Tag's money? Took those apples?' She shook her head. ‘She's learning from her father.'

Raj glanced sharply at his wife. ‘What do you mean?'

‘Always looking out for someone else, no matter what it costs you.' Pooja shook her finger at him. ‘I know about the man with diabetes.'

‘How?'

‘I met Dr Pattni last week. Imagine what a fool I looked like when he told me! A woman with a liar for a husband.'

‘I didn't lie to you. I just didn't want you to worry.'

‘Of course I would be worried! Giving out our money, just like that. Do you think any of
them
would help you?'

‘I thought he was going to die. I had to do something.'

‘That's the problem – you didn't. They're all liars,' she whispered to him, her eyes wide. ‘Most of them are thieves. They can't help it – it's part of their culture. You know this, yet you haven't taught your children anything! They run around with that boy as if he is their—'

She searched for the word, throwing her arms out. ‘As if he is their best friend, but you wait one day. You wait and see what happens.'

‘We gave Angela our word.' Her husband's voice was resolute.

‘I'll find another maid then. Mrs Laljee says she knows a girl who's looking.'

Raj was firm. ‘Angela has been with us for twelve years. We trust her with the house, the children. I'm not asking her to leave just because you're worried about what Mrs Laljee thinks.' He lowered his voice, stealing glances at the door. The activity in the kitchen hadn't slowed or stopped and, satisfied they hadn't been overheard, he tried to pacify his wife. ‘School is starting soon so he won't be around as much.'

‘I'm going to check on dinner.' She was at the door leading into the corridor, yanking it open. ‘You go upstairs and talk to your children. Make sure they know just how angry their mother is.'

Peace and quiet. Raj took his time going up the steep staircase, feeling the old wood strain and stretch beneath his weighty footsteps. On reaching the top of the corridor, he looked down at the cracked linoleum floor, the lime green walls, and heard the high sound of water running in the toilet.

This apartment had been his home for almost fifteen years now; they had rented it six months after they were married. Back then, it had enchanted him. He had been comforted by the way everything was planned to fit neatly together – the dining room running into the living room, leading straight to the kitchen. It had been cozy and warm when he had first entered it but now it appeared old fashioned and tired, sagging under his growing family.

Pooja had been won over by the sense of community it had provided, the close proximity in which they lived to other similar people, because it made her feel safe. But Raj was exhausted by constantly being surrounded by eyes and ears that made it their business to know his, of people who thought it their right to pass judgment on what he chose to do, how he chose to raise his kids.

Artisan Furniture Wholesalers had begun to grow quickly in the past few years and now provided him with enough money to begin dreaming of his own garden, where he would be able to smoke in peace and wander the endless ideas of his mind without some busybody wanting to gossip and disturb him. He wanted high walls and even higher gates, perhaps a dog he could take for long walks in the leafy suburb, tidy streets tucked away from the noise of the city. Unbeknown to his wife, Raj had begun looking at several houses in the newer, wealthier areas of Muthaiga and Runda, had already fallen in love with the repose they promised and was waiting for the right moment to mention it. God knows, the last thing he wanted with that woman was another argument.

He approached the first door on the right and heard his children's voices. ‘May I come in?' he called out.

‘Yes.'

He pushed open the door to the sight of them sitting side by side on the large desk placed by the window. The table had been split into two; Jai's side was organized and structured, everything in its proper place. But Leena's was bursting with strewn crayons, countless fruit-smelling erasers that he often found in the most unexpected spots – wedged into couch cushions, tucked into a book to mark a page – and several pictures she had drawn were sellotaped to the wall beneath the window frame.

He sat beside them on the old bunk bed. He touched the dark wood, knew where to find the place where the paint had chipped away due to a young boy's carelessness, and when he looked up from this, he was met with his daughter's tawny eyes. She was chewing on her lip, pulling a piece of dry skin between her teeth.

‘I'm sorry,' she said before he even spoke.

‘Why are you apologizing?' He leaned forward with interest, clasping his hands at his knees.

‘Because we stole.'

‘No, we didn't,' Jai interrupted, glaring at his sister and then, because his father was watching him sternly, lowered his eyes and mumbled, ‘not today, at least.'

‘I thought I raised you better than that,' he said to his son.

‘It's only a game.' Jai burned under his father's accusation, tired of struggling to reach a higher version of himself, wanting, for once, his father to recognize how young he was.

‘Stealing is not a game. Taking from someone while they struggle to survive is not a joke. That's not the kind of person you are, understand?'

‘Everyone was doing it.' Leena spoke up in an effort to protect her brother.

‘If everyone was jumping off a building, would you join them?'

‘That's not the same thing,' Jai protested.

‘It's exactly the same thing. Just because everyone else is doing it, doesn't make it right.'

How many friends did he have who had built their businesses off important connections, through bribery, manipulation, sometimes outright stealing? Those who had taken advantage of a weak system that thrived on power and greed, sometimes becoming involved in huge scandals and pocketing public coffers, making themselves sickeningly rich while remaining purposefully blind to those they were stealing from. He could have done it, but how could he claim to be a part of this country, to love it and step upon the backs of its people at the same time?

‘Just because we're privileged doesn't mean we should remain oblivious to the hardships of others, do I make myself clear?'

‘Yes.' It was barely a whisper from both of them. Jai stopped him as he rose.

‘I don't know what Ma
told you but Michael had nothing to do with this.'

‘I don't want you to protect him if he's done something wrong.'

‘He didn't steal anything.'

‘He was helping me because I fell,' Leena told her father. ‘Because the ground was too bumpy and everyone was running so fast…' Her voice had turned into a whine, close to crying. He patted her cheek roughly.

‘I believe you. Why don't you go downstairs and help set the table for dinner?'

She did as he requested, the rapid pace of her tiny footsteps on the creaky steps reverberating through the entire house. After a brief pause, he pulled out Leena's chair and sat beside Jai, putting most of his weight into his thighs so he wouldn't break it. They looked out onto the street together, saw Michael emerge from the veranda with a black garbage bag to throw into the communal bin they shared with five other surrounding apartments.

‘You've become good friends with him,' Raj observed.

‘Yes.'

‘That's good.' He nodded with approval and held his son's shoulder tightly. ‘You know, when I was your age, things were very different in this country.'

‘I know,' Jai interrupted. ‘Things were much harder, the British were here and everyone was killing everyone and Leena and I are lucky to have what we do.' He said it all in one, exasperated breath, having heard this lecture a hundred times before.

Raj fixed his eyes on Michael outside. ‘Even though things were ugly, beneath it all we were fighting because we had a love for this country. That's missing now. People have forgotten what we went through, all the struggles that we, Indians and Africans, went through together, to get where we are today. Now we kill each other like cowards. We steal, we cheat, we hate – we were so greedy for a better future that we sucked it dry as soon as it started looking bright.' Raj's eyes fixed onto his son. ‘I'm guilty too. I started a business, forgot about everything else that needed working on and now it's too late for me but I want to make sure it isn't for you.' He had picked up a pencil and was drawing idly within the cross-hatched shadings of his daughter's art. ‘I know I can be hard on you but it's only because you have a gift which others don't and I don't want you to forget that. I don't want you to waste it.'