Karma by Cathy Ostlere

roots. To his proper destiny , she tried to convince Barindra.
    But Barindra thinks otherwise. Don’t be yourself, he urges me. Be better! Reach beyond your birthright! The world is your oyster! (A bivalve mollusk trapped in a shell?) Carve your path but not in sand,
    Sandeep! Sculpt it into something that won’t blow away. An education!
    Somehow, Barindra’s belief in me is even worse than Amma’s assessment. He seems to think that my casteless tribal status is not a deterrent in becoming successful. Gandhi changed this country so a boy like you could rise up!
    Amma is more realistic. A senior secondary school diploma would be a remarkable achievement. (But the world won’t let you go any higher.) She didn’t have to say it out loud.
    Parvati believes I should choose my path. Be whatever you want to be, Sandeep, but at least be the best.
    So I’m a guide now. Lighting the way for tourists who want to explore a city where Sheh’rzaday could have told her tales! The most eloquent tout in all of Jaisalmer! And I give HALF my earnings to my parents. So no one can say I’m not a good son, even if I’m adopted and ugly. And a drop out.

Shrine
    Amma is on her knees. Her head bowed to the silver images. Ganesh and Krishna. Two ghee lamps burn bright yellow. Jasmine flowers wilt on the pedestal. I tiptoe past, but she sees me with the eyes in the back of her head and stops her devotion.
    Sandeep?
    Yes, Amma.
    Do you ever wonder what I pray for?
    No.
    Never?
    It is none of my concern.
    Hmm. But you must wonder a little. You‘re a curious boy. At some point in the last eleven years you must have wondered.
    I say nothing. A technique learned from Barindra. The less you say, the less you can be accused of.
    Well?
    You have a secret life, Amma. I respect that.
    Hmm. I hope you don’t have a secret life, Sandeep.
    No. Never. I have no desire to prostrate before a god.
    That is not what I meant! I meant . . . oh, never mind. Sandeep, are you not afraid for your soul? That it may wander this earth for a thousand lives?
    No, Amma. You and I both know I’ll return to the desert one day. Perhaps my soul waits for me there.
    Hmm. Like the secretive fox. A reminder, Sandeep? You’re not to touch.
    Touch what?
    You’re not to touch the girl. Parvati’s orphan. Even if she‘s already been touched. Do you understand?
    Perfectly.
    All right. You will go to the train station in the morning. The Jodhpur Express arrives at nine. I do not want to be seen in public with her. And thank God, Barindra will be at the school. So that leaves you. Bring her quick. Straight here. Understand?
    Yes, Amma. I understand perfectly.

Awake
    I cannot sleep.
    Amma and Bahrindra are making their night noises. Old Dadima too. She snores like her son and daughterin-law. Three trains rumbling into the station.
    I‘ve heard that in some countries, families sleep apart. Siblings in their own rooms. Parents separate. Imagine the peace. No startling cries from your mother‘s bad dream. No waking up to find a sister‘s braid tickling your face like a rat’s tail.
    But with walls between the sleeping bodies there wouldn’t be whispers to overhear.
    A strange girl of unknown origins? A mute with that name? That name! It’s a bad omen, Barindra! What were you and Parvati thinking?
    What were we thinking? We are Hindu. The girl may be Sikh. There is a debt to pay.
    That is not the name of a Sikh girl! And besides, we didn’t have anything to do with what happened in Delhi, Barindra. It is not our fault!
    Yet by not helping the victims, we are just as guilty. And forget the name, Mina. It’s common enough.
    Barindra, I’ve listened to that name shouted in my home every night for the last eleven years. And you think it’s just coincidence!

In the dream
    She walks out of the desert wearing a golden sari. Her hair is long, to her waist, blowing in the wind. In her hand she holds a