Born Behind Bars: Chapters 26–39

I look around, wondering who Jay is, and see she's talking to the parrot riding on her shoulder. I marvel at its bright green body, curved pink beak, the pink rings around its neck, and its beady eyes.

"Get out of here before I throttle you, you low-caste brat!"
"Ai! You leave him alone." The girl is right by me, yelling back at the man. "You touch him and I'll—"

"What'll you do? Call the police?" The man sneers. "You riffraff. Think you can enter a temple stinking like garbage!"

"What'll you do? Call the police?" The man sneers. "You riffraff. Think you can enter a temple stinking like garbage!"

"How do people even know your caste?"
"They judge by how I dress and look and speak. I'd fit in easier if I bought a longer skirt and took off my beads and wore my hair differently. But I'm proud of my people. I don't want to hide my caste, do you?"
"Not sure which low caste I even belong to."

"You're the first person to ask me my name in about a year." She gives me a big smile. "But I'm fine with that—it's harder to track me down when I'm nameless. Right, Jay?"
"Right, right, right!" the parrot chimes in.

But as I struggle to keep up with Rani's brisk pace, I start thinking I need to do more than hope.

"Come on, Kabir," Rani calls out. I wave to the man and trudge through the sand.

On the way back to Rani's, we stop at a kiosk shop run by a charity, where a kind woman lets me choose a dry T-shirt.

Inside, there's a huge mirror—and the best one I've ever seen. I yelp when I see my reflection. Not just my face and messy hair, but also my broomstick neck and scrawny body and arms.

"Squirrel?"
"What were you expecting, Prince of Pickiness? Lamb kebab?"

Rani pokes at the dying embers of her fire with a stick.

“Come on." Rani starts climbing her tree. "It's bedtime."
"You sleep up there? Aren't you scared you'll fall?" I feel giddy looking up at Jay's cage, swaying above my head.

The night is full of weird sounds too. Jail wasn't quiet, but at least I knew where the noises came from. And my skin prickles when a breeze wafts over me.

Then she sends another gift: A ragged old sheet comes floating down. "You can put that over your head if it makes you feel better."

Rani sings the names again, and I hear longing in her voice. She must miss her mother as much as I miss mine.

She pelts stones at a tree with small, dark leaves, and bunches of a long brown fruit fall to the ground.

I narrow my eyes, focusing only on her and Jay, who's riding on her shoulder as unruffled by the commotion as she is, and we finally make it to the other side.

She starts chanting again as passersby jostle along the crowded sidewalk.

"There is a harder thing," Rani mumbles.
"Tell me," the man says eagerly.
"Kindness today, this very hour—give generously to those who are not your family, and your generosity will reap a reward more magnificent than you can dream!"

"Pretty bird, pretty bird!" Jay trills as the man hobbles away.

"Pretty bird, pretty bird!" Jay trills as the man hobbles away.

"My mother always wanted me to go to school," Rani says wistfully.

Her voice falters, and she pauses, then continues in almost a whisper, "My father died. Only my mother and I escaped by hiding in a cave. We ran away and went to live with my uncle's family. The problem was that he wanted to marry me off when I turned fourteen. So I ran away before that could happen. With my mother's blessing—and help."

"No problem! I speak that language. My mother comes from there, so she taught me. And she showed me a picture of the mosque where my father worshipped, called the Juma Masjid. I learned all about it! My teacher said it was built by the great Tipu Sultan, out of a smooth white stone called marble."