Chain of Custody by Anita Nair Page B

water on it to heat for Nandita to bathe. Her mother would never let her bathe in cold water, even on the hottest day in summer.
    â€˜Do you want to catch a cold?’ she would admonish, thrusting a handful of twigs into the mouth of the stove. Nandita detested the smell of the smoky water. No matter how hard she soaped herself, the smell of smoke would cling to her skin. It didn’t matter how smoky the water was, she wished now that she could bathe again in the bathroom in her home.
    The previous afternoon, Moina had taken her to the bathroom. She had flung a mug of cold water on her. Nandita thought of how Amma washed Gowda sir’s car. She would fling water on the car with the same casual violence. ‘It will help move the bird shit,’ she would tell Gowda when he protested.
    Moina had handed her a sliver of soap. Wash yourself, she had mimed. Nandita’s hand shook as she ran the soap on herself. It was the first bath she had been allowed after the day she was brought to this place.
    The blisters on her legs had burned on contact with the soap. Her legs had trembled. The filthy hole they called a bathroom had smelled of stale urine. The walls were grey and damp. She had thought she would throw up as the water caused the stink from the floor to rise. A dry retching sound had escaped the throat.
    â€˜Ssh …’ Moina had held a finger to her lips. ‘Jaldi,’ she had murmured. ‘Hurry up.’
    Nandita had been given a rag to dry herself with. Moina had handed her some clothes. A skirt that reached her knees and a frilly top. There were no underclothes. Not even a slip, she hadrealized. Nandita had blanched in horror. ‘What’s this?’ she had protested, peering at the older girl through the sheer fabric.
    Moina hadn’t replied. Nandita had wondered who she was. Moina, it seemed, was her only ally …
    Nandita had pulled the top on and the skirt. She didn’t feel safe without her school uniform. She had tugged at the top so it went over the skirt, offering some modicum of cover. She crossed her arms over her chest to hide her breasts and hunched her shoulders as she walked back with Moina to the cubicle that she had been allotted.
    Nandita stood up and peered outside the cubicle. She didn’t know what to expect. She knew, though, that she was in a bad place. And that the beatings, the starvation, the strange clothes, the isolation were only a preparation for what would come next. She trembled again. It was as if she couldn’t stop trembling. She knew that she had no one to blame but herself. She had been worried about the exams. There was a lot riding on how well she did. A scholarship had been announced and her mother had decided that she had to win it. Nandita didn’t think she could. One of the girls at school said she should go to the Infant Jesus church at Vivek Nagar. ‘If you go every Thursday for six weeks and light a candle there, your wish will be granted. I swear by it,’ Selvi had said. But Nandita didn’t think that her mother would allow it.
    â€˜Jesus will not write the scholarship exam. You have to do it, and for that you need to study. Not moon around in front of the mirror or watch TV all the time,’ Shanthi would have snapped. Her mother seemed to snap and snarl all the time.
    Selvi had suggested the Basilica then. ‘Well, what about the St Mary’s Basilica at Shivaji Nagar? She is the mother of Jesusand will do for one candle what Baby Jesus needs six candles for.’
    Nandita had thought that was doable. It had seemed very simple when she thought it through. Sneak out early from the exam hall. Catch a bus to Hennur depot. And a bus from there to Shivaji Nagar. The bus stand was by the Basilica. She would light a candle to Mother Mary, offer her prayers, make a vow of some sort, and catch a bus back to the depot. It would take her less than two hours and she would be home at the usual time. A few extra