Part 4: "Campfire"

The lone caravan rolls down the vast, empty road.
Janardhan: Kid, you do realize how ridiculous your plan is, right?
Janardhan: Running to the far end of the country over a missing person poster? You're only headed for disaster. What makes you think you'll get anything out of it?
Janardhan: All that sneaking and thieving back in Mor Pankh should've taught you better.
Janardhan: "Naïve"—that's a word for a luxury only rich folks get to afford. So tell me why a street rat who's already had her fair share of knocks still wants to play dumb?
Kanjira puffs out her cheeks in frustration.
Kanjira: Hmph. Not even a beard on your chin, and already preaching like some old man.
Kanjira: What do you even know about me? I've done plenty of "good deeds" in Mor Pankh, the kind even Ms. Sherjah would approve of!
Kanjira: You self-important grump!
As she fires back, the caravan begins to slow down. A few more bumps and it stutters to a stop on the roadside.
Kanjira: W-What now?! I didn't say anything that bad!
The man behind the wheel stays silent for a long moment before turning around.
Janardhan: No ...
He rubs his forehead and sighs.
Janardhan: The damn thing's busted.
As he steps down, it's clear the tire has gone flat. It's sagging over the ground like melted ice cream.
A sharp stone lodged squarely in its thin treads.
Janardhan: The place we're headed isn't far. Get out and push.
Kanjira: What?! No way! Not again!
Kanjira: Ugh, should've just taken Uncle Sinha's donkey. One carrot and a stick, and it would've hauled me straight there without all this nonsense.
Janardhan: Hey, this way—push it inside!
Kanjira: Stupid jerk. Soon enough, I'm going to kick you out of my caravan!
She groans and pushes the caravan into the unfamiliar camp.
Patchy, bright-colored tents abound, cobbled together from scraps of cloth and stitched-up rags.
A coalition of drifters and outcasts.
Kanjira: Is this place safe?
Countless wary eyes fix on the newcomer.
Until—
Janardhan: Alright, calm down, boys.
A man steps out from the shadows at the sound of the familiar voice.
Scavenger Singh: Janardhan? You old fox. I figured you'd be rotting in a cell by now! What's got you crawling back here?
Scavenger Singh: Let me guess, stirred up some trouble again and need a new place to hide?
The suspicious looks grow heavier. Whispers ripple through the crowd.
Scavenger Singh: Well, you're not welcome here!
*thud*
A bottle flies from the shadows and smashes at Janardhan's feet, soaking his pants.
He doesn't even flinch, standing his ground.
He tilts his head back, not looking at Singh but calling loudly into the crowd.
Janardhan: Batia! I came here seeking your help!
Janardhan: You know better than anyone what I've done! I deserve punishment, fine! But I won't take the blame for crimes I didn't commit!
Janardhan: And this time, I'm not just here for myself!
Scavenger Singh: Don't make me say it again—get out!
Singh lunges forward, shoving Janardhan before launching into a barrage of fists.
Janardhan opens his hands, absorbing the blows as he lets the man land punch after punch.
Kanjira: Hey! What are you doing?! Let him go! We're leaving, okay? Who even wants to stay in this dump?!
She tries to pull Janardhan up but gets pushed aside.
Janardhan: Listen. I've never begged anyone for anything. I don't care what happens to me, but tonight you'll let this girl stay! For that, I'll pay any price. Go on, hit me all you like.
Janardhan: Sorry, kid. This is what I owe you.
Janardhan: After this, we're square.
Kanjira: ...
Janardhan: Come on, I can take it! Hit me!
Singh lets go of Janardhan's collar, a curious grin spreading across his face. He picks up a metal rod from the ground.
Scavenger Singh: Let's see how much you're really willing to pay.
*thud*
A gunshot rips through the night.
Janardhan: W-What? My gun?!
Scavenger Singh: Heh. Easy now, let's all stay calm.
Kanjira stands there, the heavy gun weighing her small wrist down as she shakes.
Kanjira: Back off!
Kanjira: Listen. I don't know who you people are, but Janardhan ...
Kanjira: He's my driver, and I won't let you bully him!
The air becomes tense and still. The crowd steps back, giving the girl a wide berth.
Then all at once they stand still, not daring to make a move.
???: That's enough. Put the gun down, girl.
???: Janardhan, I accept your terms.
The restless crowd goes silent.
Janardhan: Batia?
Scavenger Singh: Here, take it. This can of lentils is the last we've got. Your bed's set up next to that wreck of a van.
Scavenger Singh: Heh. Miss Batia, I'm out of here.
Kanjira opens the can of lentils, eagerly scooping some out onto her shoulder.
Punji slips out of her sleeve and starts licking the food.
Kanjira: Punji. You must be starving. Thanks for sticking with me all this way.
Kanjira: You guys aren't really so terrible after all. Why didn't you just talk nicely from the start? Don't worry. I won't forget your tip.
Kanjira: I'm starving! Mm, chomp chomp, so good!
Batia: Heh, slow down, child.
Janardhan: cough Thank you, Batia. And ... sorry for the girl. I really didn't expect her to grab my gun.
Batia: You're a better man than you know, Janardhan.
Batia: That girl reminds me a lot of you—so stubborn and wild.
Batia: What you're doing for her is good. That's something I've never seen in you. It's something most of the others wouldn't believe.
Janardhan: I never did those things. You know that.
Batia: Truth only means anything to the law, Janardhan—no, not even there. It's how they feel that matters.
Batia: My job is to keep everyone here safe.
Batia: And you ... you're no longer one of us.
She dusts off her clothes and stands up.
Batia: Singh checked your van. It's not just the tires. It won't be fixed anytime soon.
Kanjira: What!?
Batia: You can wait, but you won't be welcome here.
Batia: I can have someone fix it for you. You can come back for it later.
Batia: But tomorrow ...
She points beyond the camp.
Batia: Before dawn, follow the eastern river through the woods. You'll find train tracks.
Batia: There'll be a train heading toward the Coromandel Coast.
She turns to leave but stops, remembering something.
Batia: Oh, and Janardhan, see me in my tent before you leave.
Batia: There are things you need to know.
Janardhan: ...
She walks away.
Janardhan gets up and moves to follow.
Kanjira: Wait. Janardhan.
She pulls out the items she stole earlier and looks at him hesitantly.
Kanjira: Your friend seems powerful. Could you ask her to protect Auntie Tara's family back at the plantation?
Kanjira: I'm worried they'll be in trouble because of me. I'll give all this back if that helps, or even offer it as payment, whatever it takes.
Janardhan: ...
Janardhan: I'll tell Batia. She'll handle it her way.
He takes the wallet and jewelry, stands up, and walks away.
The night falls over a pauper's kingdom.
The campfire crackles. People nibble on bananas and tamarinds, speaking in hushed voices.
Here, far from the world's chaos, everything feels humble and pure.
Their clothes are patched and worn. The pots and bowls are dented but scrubbed clean.
In the silence, an old man with white hair and a long beard moves closer to the fire.
Ascetic: I've heard you're traveling far, child. The prophet told me this will be a lonely journey.
Ascetic: Fate brought us together this night. Here, child.
Kanjira: Really, Grandpa? Are you giving us some canned food or maybe some rupees?
Ascetic: Haha, something even better.
He pulls a small handful of sacred ash from his sagging pocket and gently smears it across Kanjira's curious face.
Strange Girl: Are they staying, Mama?
Woman: No, they're heading to the far end of this land soon. Like migratory birds, they'll cross forests and rivers, through heat and cold.
Woman: It's a hard road ahead.
Strange Girl: She's so brave.
The little girl opens her box of treasures. Inside, wrapped peppermint candies sparkle in the moonlight like diamonds.
Kanjira: Huh, is this for me?
Strange Girl: Yeah. If you're ever in the desert, just suck on these and you'll feel cool again.
Strange Girl: I hope you find your family soon.
Kanjira: Thank you.
Kanjira lowers her head shyly, taking the gift with both hands.
She's used to kindness with strings attached, kindness that stings.
But this ... this is something different; it makes her feel shy, like she doesn't deserve it.
She nods and decides to give something back to this new world.
Kanjira: When I reach the sea, I'll find you some pretty seashells and bring them back for you.
Strange Girl: Okay, then we'll meet again. When I'm better, I want to ride in your caravan too!
She returns to her mother, resting her head while watching the fire.
The flames crackle, and the leaves whisper with the night breeze.
Strange Girl: Mama, my head feels itchy.
Woman: Okay.
Her mother gently runs her fingers through her hair, slow and soft.
Like stroking a young creature.
Strange Girl: Tell me a story.
Woman: Of course, my child.
Woman: Once, on the far side of the Sarayu River, there was a girl in a sari edged with gold, with thick, glossy black hair ...
Her soft voice mingles with the flickering fire and swaying shadows.
Kanjira lies down, her back to them, fists clenched tight.
Kanjira: ...
Warm tears well up, her chest tight.
But she promised herself—once she left the village, she wouldn't cry again.
So she shuts her eyes and refuses to open them.
Her ears, red from the wind, still listen to each sound.
And the night grows deeper.
???: Wake up, wake up, kid.
Kanjira: Huh?
She rubs her eyes and rises up from her cardboard bed.
Janardhan: Time to go.
Janardhan: Hah hah. I gotta admit, kid, you played your part pretty well. That was some fine acting.
Kanjira: What do you mean? I don't understand.
Janardhan: ...
Janardhan: Come on, you don't really think I'm going to take you around to try and find your parents, do you? Once we're on that train, we go our separate ways.
Janardhan: All that talk was just to soften up those bleeding hearts back there. Otherwise, we'd be starving tonight, or worse, some wild animal would've dragged us off!
She looks stunned for a moment, bites her lip, before returning to a calm-looking stare.
Kanjira: Mhm ...
Janardhan notices the shift in her expression.
Janardhan: Hey, helping each other's fine, but we're not friends, alright?
Janardhan: I'm saying this so things don't get messy later—you get that, right?
He stops and holds out his hand, like a merchant striking a deal.
Janardhan: We can still work together on the train, but you have to promise me one thing.
Janardhan: If either of us gets caught, the other has the right to cut loose and run. No hard feelings.
Janardhan: You do get that I don't actually have to take care of you at all, right?
There's a reluctant look in his eyes—the same look she's seen on the faces of slippery street merchants.
Janardhan: Deal?
Kanjira: Deal. I don't need anyone to take care of me.
From the tracks comes a faint rumble.
In the distance, a heavy train, puffing white smoke, barrels toward them.
Just before jumping onto the train, Kanjira holds her breath and shouts toward him.
Kanjira: But ... did you really kill someone?
Janardhan leaps onto the train as it chugs forward, swinging his full weight up with the weight of his backpack.
Janardhan: Of course, kid.
Janardhan: Where do you think all this money came from? Did you think it sprung up from a field? Or that I polished some rich bastard's shoes for it?
He sets down the backpack and reaches out his hand to her.
Even as she runs, there's a moment of hesitation.
She meets his eyes, trying to see through the murk to whatever soul might be hiding behind them.
Kanjira: ...
It almost seems as though the train will pass and she'll be left behind.
Then she takes his hand.