Read Fifteen Lanes for Free Online

her belly where another child was already growing inside her, though the bump barely showed. “I’m going to lie down. Look after your sister.” She pushed Aamaal through the doorway and closed it behind her.
    “What’s a Devadasi?” I asked Deepa-Auntie.
    “I’m not sure, though I know several women here are also devadasis and they all speak Kannada, like your ma. I don’t think we had Devadasis in Nepal.”
    “If Ma and Grandma were devadasis, am I also one?”
    “You are whatever you choose to be, Noor-baby. Someday we’ll leave this place. I’ll pay off my debt to the fat one and her pig-faced son and we’ll go back to my village. We’ll climb the hills of my homeland, follow the egret’s flight to my father’s herd. We’ll see him first as we crest the hill overlooking my home. He will be watching for me, as he’s done every day since I left, and will run to greet us, shouting the news of my return. Even my worthless brothers will laugh with joy. We’ll take them presents like they’ve never seen—a cooking pot made of the strongest iron for my mother, and bells for each of our goats, so my father will never have to search long for them when they stray. But the greatest gift will be for Yangani.”
    “What will that be?” I asked. I already knew the answer.
    “It will be you, of course. A new sister for her to play with and love. She will follow you as she once followed me, or perhaps she will be grown and you will walk side by side, sharing secrets as sisters do.”
    I wanted to ask her how she could have such optimism. We knew not one woman who had escaped the trade. The few who had managed to buy their freedom continued to work alongside us. Rejected by their families, who were ashamed of what they’d become, regardless of the circumstances, they survived in the only profession they knew, among the only community that would accept them.
    “Do you want me to check if Pran has gone out?” I asked.“Perhaps we could sit out in the window box for a while. Men won’t bother with us on such a hot day.”
    “Thank you, my love. I’d like that.”
    The window box was the only outdoor freedom Deepa-Auntie was allowed, and of course that had all the freedom of sitting in a shop window. Unlike the other aunties, not to mention myself, she couldn’t come and go from the house as she pleased. She had to ask permission and be escorted by Pran or Binti-Ma’am. Her only outings were infrequent trips to the temple to pray, and she always returned home more disheartened than when she’d left. I often stayed in on the weekends, when I’d have preferred to play in the street, because it cheered her to have my company. I didn’t realize until years later that Deepa-Auntie was not so many years older than me and my friends.
    Taking Aamaal’s hand, I left Deepa-Auntie and went into the hallway, pausing for a moment to listen to the voices of the house. I could hear murmurings from the second floor. One of the aunties barked with laughter, which was enough to confirm that Pran wasn’t upstairs. I put my finger to my lips to silence Aamaal and led her down the short, narrow passage to his room. We had to pass Binti-Ma’am’s room. There was no danger of awakening her. She slept deeply in the afternoons, knocked out by the heat and her own bootleg booze.
    I leaned my ear against Pran’s door. Aamaal’s hand sweated in my own. How quickly she had learned to fear him. I shook my head to let her know he wasn’t there, though I didn’t speak, as it was possible he’d heard us come out of the washing room and was deliberately keeping silent, waiting to pounce. Aamaal tugged at my hand and I let her lead me back down the hall tothe washing room. I stuck my head in and gestured to Deepa-Auntie to come out. I still didn’t dare speak.
    The three of us crept as silently as we could to the ladder leading to the second floor. Deepa-Auntie had one foot up when the door to Pran’s room flew open and he raced