When morning came, they went south.
7
Two years later.
“All I’m saying is that going off to fight a man-eating tiger with just your tweezers and a bottle of smelling-salts probably wasn’t the best idea you’ve ever had,” Priya said.
“It seemed to work out just fine,” said Asha. “It certainly worked out better than that night you tried to free those prostitutes from their wrangler by chanting at him.”
“We got them all out,” the nun reminded her. “Eventually.” They walked a little farther up the path and Priya asked, “Are we lost?”
“No, we’re not lost,” Asha said. “In fact, we’ve been here before. I recognize those mountain peaks.” The rocky ridge drew a stark gray line against the pale blue sky.
“But you’ve been hurrying us along awfully quickly over the last hour. You always hurry when you’re lost,” Priya said. “I don’t see what the matter is, really. One place is as good as another, as long as you don’t wake up with a tiger nibbling your leg.”
“We’re not lost.”
“Then why have you been rushing?”
“Because we’re about to pass the fruit house,” Asha said.
“The what?”
“The dried up dreamers. Hasika, the pregnant woman. The family eating the strange little fruits that kept them barely alive. Don’t you remember them?”
The nun nodded. “I remember now. You know, I still don’t agree with what you did there. I can barely understand why you did it, to be honest. It seemed almost cruel.”
“It was cruel,” Asha said softly. “It was a cruel place, a cruel dilemma. The fruits. The fear of dying. I don’t think people are really meant to ever deal with that sort of cruelty. We’re meant for simple problems, like how to cross a river or how to grow rice. But choosing between life and death? Between a mother and child? I don’t think we’re wise enough to unravel those sorts of knots. Or calm enough.”
“You were a little angry.”
“I was very angry. And it didn’t help, did it?” Asha paused. “You were right, back then. I should have listened to you. I should have tried to find another way. There must have been a third way, if I had just taken the time to find it.”
Priya touched her arm. “It’s all right. And I won’t ask you to stop there, but when we reach the house, please give me a moment to check on them. Just for a minute.”
“All right.”
They came around the bend in the trail and Asha saw the house by the side of the road. Just the one. A patch of bright green grass stood where the second, rotting house had been. The remaining house had several fresh planks lashed to the walls, and fresh thatching on the roof, and a small garden beside it full of turnips, beetroots, and yams.
“Something has changed.” Asha continued forward, slower than before. “Hello?”
A child babbled inside the house.
Asha froze and glanced back at Priya, who merely arched an eyebrow above her blindfold. The herbalist walked toward the doorway where a clean new curtain hung across the opening. “Hello?”
“Hello?” A hand pulled back the curtain to reveal a young woman cradling a fat-cheeked little boy in the crook of her arm.
Asha stared at the woman’s face, her bright eyes and smooth cheeks, her shining black hair and strong arms. “Hasika?”
A sorrowful cloud passed over the woman’s face. “No, I’m her sister. Hasika passed away last spring.”
Asha paused. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. But the child is hers, isn’t it?”
The sister frowned and nodded. “It is. How did you know? Who are you?”
“My name’s Asha. I’m an herbalist. I passed through here two years ago and stayed in this house for two nights. I spoke with Hasika. I told her she was pregnant.”
The sister’s eyes widened. “That was you? Come in, come in.”
Asha and Priya followed the woman inside and found the single room bright and airy. The wind rustled through the clean curtains and the scent of jasmine hung in the air. On one side of the room there was a low bed of blankets, and beside it along the wall were several shiny new pots and cups and bowls. On the opposite side of the room lay four bodies, shoulder to shoulder, all neatly tucked under a single clean blanket.
“What happened?” Asha nodded at the four dreamers. “How did it happen?”
“One night, I woke from my dreams and heard Hasika talking to the others. Hasika wanted to have the child, but she was afraid of dying like Niraj and leaving the baby all alone. So we all discussed it, and eventually we all agreed that when Hasika died, one of us would take her place, caring for the baby. And when that person died, another would take her place.” The sister gently sat the little boy up in her lap. He yawned and stretched and flopped back against her belly with a single-toothed grin. She smiled down at him. “I have six more months with him before my mother will wake up and play with her grandson.”
“What’s his name?” Priya asked.
“Niraj, just like his father,” the sister answered.
Asha frowned at the four sleepers. “And what happens five years from now?”
“My father has family over the mountains. Hasika sent a letter to them last year and they agreed to take in Niraj when he is older. My father will be the last to wake up, and he will take Niraj over the mountains to his new home when the time comes.”
Asha continued to stare at the still and withered bodies of Hasika’s family. “Was it difficult, giving up your dreams? Do you regret it?”
“It was difficult, but no, I don’t regret it. How could I? Just look at him.” The sister kissed little Niraj on the head. “I spent thirty years alone with my dreams. I dreamed of a family for myself, too. But with only one year to live, how could I hope to ever bring that dream to life? My nephew here is more than I’d ever hoped to have.”
Asha and Priya stayed another hour in the house, listening to Hasika’s sister talk and watching Hasika’s son chew on his blanket. Eventually they said their goodbyes and set out on the road again. Priya strode along at Asha’s side, probing the path ahead with her bamboo stick and gently petting the little mongoose on her shoulder. “How sad for them. Such an incredible sacrifice, an entire family for one child. And how wonderful for them, too. Especially for Niraj.”
“Do you mean the father or the son?”
“Both,” Priya said. “I suppose they came to see things your way, eventually. Does that make you feel better?”
“Not really, no. They seem happy though. I guess that’s better than whatever they were before.” Asha looked up. “And at least I know that it was what Hasika really wanted. If you count up the months, she must have kept eating the fruits another half a year after we left. So she didn’t stop because I turned over the bowl. She stopped when she was ready. Good for her.”
They walked on a little farther before Priya smiled a little and said, “So, Asha, how would you describe that house now? Is it half empty or half full?”
“Neither. Or both. Whatever.” Asha poked a sliver of ginger into the corner of her mouth and began to chew. Far behind them at the top of the path, they heard a young woman’s laughter and a baby’s squeal of delight. “Well, if I had to say something, I guess I’d say that house is noisier than it used to be.”
Chapter 5
1
It was raining again.
But it was a light rain, a misty rain. And while it left any traveler soaked within minutes, it somehow did not feel oppressive or threatening. Not a storm, certainly. In fact the sky often looked bright and clear between the pale gray clouds. No thunder, no lightning, no raging winds. Merely water falling from the sky. So Asha and Priya finished their meager midday meal of seeds and dried fruit and continued on their way.
The road was wide and no doubt dusty when dry, but now it was a soft carpet of mud dotted with shining puddles. Asha kept to the side where the slick grass offered a firmer path. Priya followed a few paces behind, tapping here and there with her bamboo rod, unconcerned by the treacherous footing. And in her thick black hair among the lotus leaves and blossoms, a mongoose curled warm and dry around her neck, asleep.