A Walk Across the Sun (20 page)

“Have you seen Deepak?” Dev asked.

Khan shook his head. “He's probably upstairs somewhere, but I haven't had time to look for the passageway.”

“May we?” Dev asked.

“Be my guest,” Khan replied and turned back to the frightened girl.

“I'll get one of the panchas,” Greer said. Looking at Thomas, he explained, “This is the crucial step. Suchir will be open for business tomorrow if we don't do this by the book.”

After Greer returned with Mira, Dev walked down the hallway and opened each of the doors. All were identical, and it seemed unlikely that any of them led to a hidden chamber. He moved to the end of the hallway and examined the bookcase. He tugged at it, but it didn't move. Greer circled him and ran his fingertips along the right side of the bookcase. He found nothing. Dev tried the left side and felt a weakness in the wood. He pressed down with his fingers and heard a latch disengage.

“Got it!” he said.

Khan joined them as Dev swung the bookcase outward. They peered beyond it into the murk of the stairwell. They heard the faint sound of a man's voice in the distance. Dev went up the stairs with Mira, Greer, and Thomas on his heels.

Dev knocked on the door at the top of the stairs. “Deepak?” he said. Inside the attic room, Deepak released his hold on the door. He turned to Ahalya, who sat motionless on the bed.

“My friends have come,” he said. “You will soon be free.”

Ahalya stared uncomprehending as a group of strangers—some in uniform, others in plainclothes—entered the attic room. An Indian woman came to her side and introduced herself as Anita. She took a seat on the bed and promised to stay with Ahalya until she was safe. Ahalya looked intently at the policemen in uniform. For the first time since Suchir came for Sita, she felt a glimmer of hope.

One of the policemen approached Deepak and spoke words that Ahalya could not understand. Deepak shook his head. The policeman turned to Ahalya and spoke in the same unintelligible tongue. She stared at him blankly, and he switched to Hindi.

“I am Inspector Khan of the Nagpada police,” he said. “We received information that there were two minor girls in this brothel, not one. Where is the other girl?”

Ahalya looked into Khan's eyes, thinking there must be some misunderstanding.

“My sister, Sita,” she said. “She is downstairs.”

Khan went to the door and barked an order. After a few seconds, another policeman appeared. They traded words, and then Khan turned back to Ahalya.

“There are fifteen girls downstairs, but none of them is named Sita.”

Ahalya's hands began to tremble. She stared at Khan, trying to take in the implications of his statement. She stood from the bed and walked out of the attic room. Khan was so surprised that he made no attempt to stop her. She made her way downstairs, scouring the now-empty sex rooms for any sign of her sister.

When she reached the lobby, she pressed into the crowd, searching the sea of faces. The beshyas were together in the far corner, but Sita was not among them. Ahalya pushed her way to Sumeera, who stood watching the frenzy with tired eyes.

“Where is Sita?” Ahalya demanded. “What did you do with her?”

Sumeera glanced around the room and then looked back at Ahalya. “She is gone,” she said simply.

Ahalya shook her head fiercely, trying to ward off the truth. “No, you are wrong. Suchir came for her an hour ago. She was to see a customer.”

Sumeera looked at the ground, saying nothing.

A shapeless terror gripped Ahalya's mind. She fell to her knees and began to rock back and forth. Tears streamed from her eyes and collected on her chin. She reached out for Sumeera's sari.

“Where did she go?” she begged, sobbing, but the gharwali failed to respond. “How could you?” she cried. “Have you no soul?”

Sumeera gently pried Ahalya's fingers loose. She knelt down and spoke the words quietly, looking directly into Ahalya's eyes.

“It is the way of Golpitha,” she said.

Part Two

Chapter 10

In the dark of night live those for whom the outside world alone is real.
—I
SHA
U
PANISHAD

Mumbai, India

Forty minutes before the raid, Suchir had led Sita into the brothel lobby and greeted a man sitting on the couch. When Sita saw him she remembered him. He was the same man who had come the night before. He was wearing the same expensive clothes, the same silver wristwatch. A duffel bag was at his side. He stood and lifted the bag, nodding to Suchir.

“One lakh,” he said. “The rest after the girl does her job, as usual.” He paused. “You can count it if you like.”

“That won't be necessary. You have earned my trust, Navin.”

Navin nodded again and took Sita's hand. “Time to go, Sita.” He pronounced her name in Hindi with the familiarity of a cousin.

Sita stood uncomprehending and then pulled her hand away. “I can't leave my sister,” she said desperately. “Please don't take me away from her.”

Navin looked at Suchir and then back at Sita. “Maybe I will bring your sister next time. But I have bought you today. If you submit, your life will be easy. No pimp, no madam, no sex with strangers. But if you fight, you will regret it.”

He took her hand again and pulled her down the stairs to the dusty street, shrouded by night. A black sport utility vehicle was waiting at the curb. Navin opened the back door and gestured for Sita to get in. She shook her head, her eyes flashing with terror. With a sigh, he took hold of her shoulders and pushed her into the vehicle. She sat stiffly and cried silent tears.

There was a large man in the driver's seat, but he paid no attention to her. Navin slipped in beside the man and said, “New Bombay. George said ten o'clock. Do not be late.”

The driver grunted and accelerated down the narrow lane. They drove for many minutes before crossing a long bridge over a bay and entering another part of the sprawling city. On an unremarkable street corner buried in a warren of lanes, the driver pulled over and Navin got out with a knapsack. Through the window, Sita saw a gangly black man standing in the shadows, his hand clutching a cloth-covered package. Navin approach the man and spoke briefly. He handed the man the knapsack and took the package. Then he returned to the car.

He glanced back at Sita. “Why are you crying?” he asked, sounding annoyed.

Sita closed her eyes, afraid to look at him. She felt the night closing in on her. Who was this man? Why had he taken her away from Ahalya? The words found their way to her tongue before she could restrain herself.

“Please let me go back to my sister,” she pleaded. “Please.”

Navin shook his head and muttered an expletive. “Take me home,” he said to the driver. The large man grunted and pulled the SUV into traffic.

Sita crossed her arms over her chest, suppressing the sobs that were so close to the surface. She watched the lights of the city, passing in a blur, and tried to ignore the package on Navin's lap. But curiosity got the better of her when he unwrapped it. Inside the cloth was a plastic bag, and in the bag was brown powder. He unzipped the bag and took a whiff.

“George must have been a Brahmin in another life,” he exulted. “His powder is like the Soma juice of the gods.”

Drugs
, Sita thought, feeling the terror return.

They crossed the long bridge and returned to downtown Bombay. After they passed the international airport, they turned down a dirt road that led to a complex of flats. The driver parked the SUV, and Navin retrieved Sita from the back seat. She went with him without a word. The sight of the powder haunted her.

They took an elevator to the top floor of the building, and the driver opened the door to a modest flat. Sita followed Navin to a small bedroom furnished with nothing but a mattress on an iron frame. She sat down on the bed and stared at the wall. She heard Navin ask if she needed to use the restroom, but she didn't respond. He shook his head again, clearly displeased, and then left the room, locking the door behind him.

She held herself tightly, clenching her teeth against the fear and sorrow, but this time the pressure was too great. She doubled over and began to sob. Her family was gone. Ahalya was gone. She was alone in a flat in Bombay with a strange man who dealt in drugs.

Navin kept Sita locked in her room except to deliver her food and to allow her use of the bathroom. Sita never spoke to him when he appeared. She sat on the bed, her back against the wall, staring blankly out the window. The monotony was nearly insufferable. The only regular interruptions came from the planes taking off and landing at the airport. She found herself counting the minutes between departures and arrivals. Occasionally, she tried to picture the faces of the passengers and imagine where they were going or coming from.

After three days of this, Navin brought a chair into Sita's room and sat down, facing her. He was holding a bunch of large grapes and a jar of coconut oil.

“We travel tomorrow night,” he began. “You must do everything exactly as I say. If you listen to me, I will take you to a better place. If you disobey, you could die.”

Sita didn't process his words right away. The hours of her confinement had been so long she had almost ceased to feel. She stared at the grapes as his words hit home. Suddenly, the boredom turned into dread.
Travel?
she thought.
What does he mean that I could die?
She looked at him at last and saw that he was angry.

“Your sister is gone,” he said irritably. “She is a beshya. You are one no longer. It is time to stop this ridiculous mourning.”

She looked at the grapes again. “Where are we going?” she whispered.

Navin collected himself. “You will find out soon enough.” He paused. “Have you ever swallowed a grape whole?”

Sita's eyes grew wide and she shook her head.

“Then you must practice. You must become proficient in twentyfour hours. I will use oil as lubrication. It will help.”

She watched as he took a grape from the bunch and dipped it in the coconut oil until its skin was shiny. He offered it to her, but she didn't take it.

“Why do I have to do this?” she asked, staring at the grape in fear.

Ignoring her question, he reached out, prized open her fingers, and put the grape in her palm. “You will feel like you are choking, but you must overcome the urge to regurgitate. Swallowing the grape is a matter of the mind.”

Sita felt the grape in her hands. It was slippery and felt strangely heavy. She thought of Ahalya and wondered how she would respond to this challenge. Ahalya would be strong, she decided. She would do what needed to be done. And she would survive. Sita placed the grape in her mouth, tasting the oil on her tongue.

“No, no,” Navin interjected. “You must tilt your head back and look at the ceiling. That will open your throat.”

Following his directions, she felt the grape slide deeper into her mouth. She choked violently and her throat burned. Navin waited until she had caught her breath and then dipped another grape in coconut oil.

“You will learn,” he encouraged her. “The others did.”

Hands trembling, Sita tried a second time and nearly succeeded before the choking reflex threw her body into spasms. She slid off the bed and fell on her hands and knees, retching.

“I can't,” she moaned.

“You can.”

She tried again, and this time the grape slid slowly down her throat and she managed not to gag. She breathed heavily and closed her eyes, relieved and yet horrified.

“Well done,” Navin complimented her. “You learned quickly. I will return every three hours and you will swallow another grape until it is second nature.”

Sita's stomach churned and her throat ached from the strain, but she acquired the skill Navin demanded of her. She didn't ask again about his reasons. She understood that he owned her and could do anything he wanted to her.