The Song of Kahunsha by Anosh Irani Page B

Krishna holding an imaginary flute. These are the ones Chamdi recognizes. He wonders why there is no Jesus.
    “Did you make these?” he asks Guddi.
    “No,” says the girl. “An old woman makes them. I sell these for her. She gives me half.”
    “So you don’t beg?”
    “No. I work.”
    “Sumdi, why don’t you also work?” he asks.
    “I told you. I’m not allowed by Anand Bhai. You have to be allowed. And I do have a job. I am his eyes.”
    Amma enters the kholi, sits down, and lays the baby on the ground.
    “What’s in the bag?” asks Sumdi.
    “Vada-pav,” says Guddi.
    “Aah!”
    “A woman gave us some. I already ate.”
    “Is there enough for all?”
    “One each. Amma has not eaten. I think the baby might die soon.”
    The matter-of-fact manner in which Guddi says this shocks Chamdi. He can feel his desire to eat leaving him.
    “Why do you say that?” asks Sumdi.
    “The lips have become all white like a ghost. Even Amma’s lips.”
    “Let’s eat,” says Sumdi.
    Chamdi picks up his white vest and puts it back on. Sumdi quietly takes the food from Guddi’s hands and inspects it. Then he turns to look at Amma, who stares back at him as though Sumdi is not her son but a stone statue. Guddi lies down on the hot footpath. She closes her eyes and squints as the sun hits her face.
    Sumdi offers Chamdi some food. Chamdi has lost his appetite now, but he takes the vada-pav anyway. The potato, placed between a single slab of bread, is still warm. There is green chutney as well and a generous dose of spicy red masala.
    Sumdi quickly puts the whole vada-pav in his mouth, swallows it as fast as possible. Then he removes another vada-pav from the brown paper bag and crumples the bag and throws it away. He puts the vada-pav to Amma’s lips, but Amma does not open her mouth. Instead, she slowly raises both her hands to accept the food like an offering. Sumdi places the vada-pav in her palms. Amma thrusts the vada-pav into the ground, and rubs it in dirt before raising it to her mouth.

SEVEN.
    As night encroaches over the tree, Sumdi counts the earnings of the day. Chamdi and he begged all evening. Sumdi now has twenty-five rupees of his own. Chamdi has only seven. Still, they cannot buy anything with the money. Anand Bhai must be given the entire amount. He will take his share and hand over whatever money remains. More importantly, Chamdi must be introduced to Anand Bhai, for if Anand Bhai finds out that someone new is begging in his area without permission, he might cut off a thumb or toe.
    Chamdi watches Sumdi walk over to the burnt building to relieve himself. Although Chamdi isnow alone with Guddi, Guddi does not even look his way. He wants to ask her where Amma is, but decides against it. He thinks about what he would do if Amma were his mother. He would never let go of her, no matter if she were mad.
    He sniffs the white cloth that is around his neck. It smells more of himself than of his father. He cannot understand how this small piece of fabric once held his entire body.
    “Stop playing with your scarf,” says Guddi. “Why do you wear that stupid scarf around your neck in this heat?” She holds a tin can in her hand, looks into it—it probably contains a little money. “The puja is tomorrow,” she says, looking Chamdi’s way at last.
    “Tomorrow?”
    “So don’t eat anything until then.”
    “Why not?”
    “Don’t put on any weight. You need to be thin enough to slip through the bars.”
    “I’m not going to steal. I did not say yes to robbing the temple.”
    “Then why are you still here? Get out.”
    Chamdi is struck by Guddi’s harsh words. He hates that she takes for granted that he will steal. But then why
is
he still with Sumdi and Guddi? Heshould leave. His real job is to find his father. He notices that the cloth around his neck is damp with sweat. If only a gust of wind would whisk that cloth off his neck and take it far into the sky. Over chimneys and tall buildings it would