inspection by Sethji. Salim has taken a bath. Actually, he has taken three baths, scrubbing himself again and again to remove every trace of dirt. He has put on his best clothes. His hair is nicely combed. He is the most presentable boy in the Home.
But I fret at his desperation. If he is not selected, he will be shattered.
Sethji finally arrives, accompanied by two other men. He doesn't look like a diamond merchant.
He looks more like a gangster. But then, we've never seen a diamond merchant. Perhaps they look like gangsters. He is very swarthy and has a thick black moustache, like the dacoit
Veerappan's. He wears a white bandgala suit. A long, thick gold chain dangles down from his neck to his second button. His fingers are loaded with rings with different coloured gems. Some red, some green, some blue. The two henchmen with him look exactly like henchmen. I learn later that they are called Mustafa and Punnoose. Gupta is also with them, leading the way. His two gold chains look modest in comparison with Sethji's.
'Sethji, you seem to have forgotten us, coming after such a long time. Many new boys have arrived since your last visit. I am sure you will find many to your liking,' Gupta tells him.
The inspection begins. All of us put on our best smiles. Sethji goes over each boy, appraising him from head to toe. I don't know what he is looking for, because he does not ask us any questions, just looks at our faces. He completes one round of inspection. He does not even glance at me twice. Then he goes over the line once again. When he comes to Salim, he stops.
'What is your name?' he asks in a heavy South Indian accent. 'S . . . Salim Ilyasi,' Salim stammers in his excitement.
'When did he arrive?' he asks Gupta.
'About eleven months ago, from Chhapra in Bihar.'
'How old is he?'
'Eight.'
'Does he have anyone?'
'No, Sethji. His whole family died in a communal disturbance.'
'How sad,' says Sethji. 'But he is just the kind of boy I need. Can you sort out the paperwork?'
'You just have to tell me, Sethji. Whoever you want will be restored to you in no time. For this boy, we'll show Mustafa as the uncle. The Welfare Board will not create any problems. In fact, they want to get rid of as many kids as possible.'
'Fine. For this visit, let's settle on just this one kid.'
Gupta looks at Salim, and then he looks at me, standing next to Salim. 'What about him?' He points at me.
Sethji looks me in the eye, and shakes his head. 'He is too old.'
'No, Sethji, he is only ten. Name is Thomas, speaks perfect English.'
'Makes no difference to me. I don't need him. I want the other one.'
'They are thick as thieves, these two. If you take Salim, you have to take Thomas as well.'
Sethji gets annoyed. 'I've told you, Gupta, that I don't want any Thomas Womas. I am only taking one boy and that is Salim.'
'I am sorry, Sethji, but I insist. If you take Salim, you will have to take Thomas. It is a package deal.'
'Package deal?'
'Yes. Buy one, get one free. I won't charge you for Thomas.' Gupta grins, displaying his paan-stained teeth.
Sethji goes into a huddle with his henchmen.
'OK,' he tells Gupta. 'Prepare the papers for these two. I'll collect them on Monday.'
Salim rushes into my arms. He is on top of the world. That night, he doesn't sleep from sheer excitement. He has celluloid dreams of life in Mumbai. Of golden sunsets on Marine Drive with Amitabh and rose-coloured dawns on Chowpatty with Shahrukh. I don't sleep that night either. I toss and turn in my bed. But I don't dream of stardom and paradise. I dream that I am a hawker on the pavement, selling fruits. A dark swarthy man bends down to buy some mangoes from me.
I see his gold chain dangling. He tosses me some change. I put a nice juicy mango in his bag, and then quietly slip in a rotten banana. For free.
* * *
The train journey to Mumbai is uneventful. Salim and I travel in the second-class sleeper
compartment with the henchmen Mustafa and Punnoose. Sethji, we
But I fret at his desperation. If he is not selected, he will be shattered.
Sethji finally arrives, accompanied by two other men. He doesn't look like a diamond merchant.
He looks more like a gangster. But then, we've never seen a diamond merchant. Perhaps they look like gangsters. He is very swarthy and has a thick black moustache, like the dacoit
Veerappan's. He wears a white bandgala suit. A long, thick gold chain dangles down from his neck to his second button. His fingers are loaded with rings with different coloured gems. Some red, some green, some blue. The two henchmen with him look exactly like henchmen. I learn later that they are called Mustafa and Punnoose. Gupta is also with them, leading the way. His two gold chains look modest in comparison with Sethji's.
'Sethji, you seem to have forgotten us, coming after such a long time. Many new boys have arrived since your last visit. I am sure you will find many to your liking,' Gupta tells him.
The inspection begins. All of us put on our best smiles. Sethji goes over each boy, appraising him from head to toe. I don't know what he is looking for, because he does not ask us any questions, just looks at our faces. He completes one round of inspection. He does not even glance at me twice. Then he goes over the line once again. When he comes to Salim, he stops.
'What is your name?' he asks in a heavy South Indian accent. 'S . . . Salim Ilyasi,' Salim stammers in his excitement.
'When did he arrive?' he asks Gupta.
'About eleven months ago, from Chhapra in Bihar.'
'How old is he?'
'Eight.'
'Does he have anyone?'
'No, Sethji. His whole family died in a communal disturbance.'
'How sad,' says Sethji. 'But he is just the kind of boy I need. Can you sort out the paperwork?'
'You just have to tell me, Sethji. Whoever you want will be restored to you in no time. For this boy, we'll show Mustafa as the uncle. The Welfare Board will not create any problems. In fact, they want to get rid of as many kids as possible.'
'Fine. For this visit, let's settle on just this one kid.'
Gupta looks at Salim, and then he looks at me, standing next to Salim. 'What about him?' He points at me.
Sethji looks me in the eye, and shakes his head. 'He is too old.'
'No, Sethji, he is only ten. Name is Thomas, speaks perfect English.'
'Makes no difference to me. I don't need him. I want the other one.'
'They are thick as thieves, these two. If you take Salim, you have to take Thomas as well.'
Sethji gets annoyed. 'I've told you, Gupta, that I don't want any Thomas Womas. I am only taking one boy and that is Salim.'
'I am sorry, Sethji, but I insist. If you take Salim, you will have to take Thomas. It is a package deal.'
'Package deal?'
'Yes. Buy one, get one free. I won't charge you for Thomas.' Gupta grins, displaying his paan-stained teeth.
Sethji goes into a huddle with his henchmen.
'OK,' he tells Gupta. 'Prepare the papers for these two. I'll collect them on Monday.'
Salim rushes into my arms. He is on top of the world. That night, he doesn't sleep from sheer excitement. He has celluloid dreams of life in Mumbai. Of golden sunsets on Marine Drive with Amitabh and rose-coloured dawns on Chowpatty with Shahrukh. I don't sleep that night either. I toss and turn in my bed. But I don't dream of stardom and paradise. I dream that I am a hawker on the pavement, selling fruits. A dark swarthy man bends down to buy some mangoes from me.
I see his gold chain dangling. He tosses me some change. I put a nice juicy mango in his bag, and then quietly slip in a rotten banana. For free.
* * *
The train journey to Mumbai is uneventful. Salim and I travel in the second-class sleeper
compartment with the henchmen Mustafa and Punnoose. Sethji, we
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