the movies,” I said.
“I enjoy them now,” Dr. Indra told me. “Now that I am doing what I was meant to do, I can take time for things like movies.”
She didn’t offer to take me to the movies. That was another point in her favor. When I was living at the railway station, a man took a boy I borrowed with to the movies and I never saw him again.
I decided I would trust her enough to let her take me in a tuk-tuk, as long as I sat on the outside.
Dr. Indra waved her hand, and a tuk-tuk pulled out of traffic and came right over to the curb. She got in beside the driver and I squished in beside her, right against the outside railing. We sped off at first, but soon got caught up in the start-and-stop traffic.
I didn’t care. I was enjoying myself.
I had hitched rides on the backs of tuk-tuks before, crouched on the bumper with my face pressed against the dusty metal. Sitting in the front was much more fun.
We hit a patch without traffic and the tuk-tuk took off. I swayed into Dr. Indra as the driver swerved his three wheels to zip between a bus and a truck full of melons. Horns blared at us.
I stood up and started to hang off the side to make faces at the other drivers. Dr. Indra pulled me back in, but she did it in a nice way, so I didn’t mind.
We got stopped by some cows right in front of the sometimes friendly tea seller. I leaned over the doctor to yell at him and wave.
He didn’t notice me. He was too busy looking miserable because his older brother was back. His brother was counting up the little clay cups and comparing his total to something written on a piece of paper.
I watched the older brother put the paper in his shirt pocket, pick up a stack of the clay cups and wave them in the tea seller’s face. He lost his grip and the stack of cups started to teeter. Then, one by one, they fell to the sidewalk and smashed.
By the time the cows had crossed the road and our tuk-tuk was moving again, I was laughing so hard I couldn’t even see.
“I’m having a really good day!” I called out to the city.
Not long after that, Dr. Indra told the driver to pull over, and the tuk-tuk came to a stop. I was sorry the ride was over, but I was also curious to see what would come next. After all, I was hungry!
Dr. Indra held out her hand for me to take. It was an invitation, not an order. I could take it or leave it.
I decided to take it.
She held my hand loosely. I could easily slip away if I wanted.
We left the sunny, noisy street and walked into a large room that was open to the city at one end and cool and dark at the other. The thick cement walls kept out a lot of the city noise. I saw plants and trees through the windows. It felt like a calm place.
Rows of chairs held rows of people. Some were in business clothes and talking on cellphones. A teenaged boy was wearing jeans. He had plugs in his ears, and he was tapping his feet. A young woman was reading from a big thick book and making notes on a pad of paper. An old man in a long robe and a turban played finger games with the baby on his lap.
No one looked afraid.
The doctor took me past the rows of chairs and through a door into a little room that was also full of people on chairs. A man behind a desk looked up at Dr. Indra.
“Here on your day off?” he asked her. “You can’t stay away from us, can you?”
“I have a new friend,” the doctor said. “This is Valli.”
“Hello, Valli.”
He smiled at me. He seemed friendly, but I had learned that you couldn’t always trust smiles. Some smiles were lies. Some smiles were followed by hands grabbing at you and pulling you into an alley.
In a quieter voice, the doctor told him, “I need a quiet room for an examination right away. This is not a girl who will wait.”
The man looked through some papers.
“The shoemaker is away today,” he said. “Will his workshop do?”
“It will,” the doctor said. “Perfect.”
“And I’ll bet Valli would like something to eat,” he said. He
“I enjoy them now,” Dr. Indra told me. “Now that I am doing what I was meant to do, I can take time for things like movies.”
She didn’t offer to take me to the movies. That was another point in her favor. When I was living at the railway station, a man took a boy I borrowed with to the movies and I never saw him again.
I decided I would trust her enough to let her take me in a tuk-tuk, as long as I sat on the outside.
Dr. Indra waved her hand, and a tuk-tuk pulled out of traffic and came right over to the curb. She got in beside the driver and I squished in beside her, right against the outside railing. We sped off at first, but soon got caught up in the start-and-stop traffic.
I didn’t care. I was enjoying myself.
I had hitched rides on the backs of tuk-tuks before, crouched on the bumper with my face pressed against the dusty metal. Sitting in the front was much more fun.
We hit a patch without traffic and the tuk-tuk took off. I swayed into Dr. Indra as the driver swerved his three wheels to zip between a bus and a truck full of melons. Horns blared at us.
I stood up and started to hang off the side to make faces at the other drivers. Dr. Indra pulled me back in, but she did it in a nice way, so I didn’t mind.
We got stopped by some cows right in front of the sometimes friendly tea seller. I leaned over the doctor to yell at him and wave.
He didn’t notice me. He was too busy looking miserable because his older brother was back. His brother was counting up the little clay cups and comparing his total to something written on a piece of paper.
I watched the older brother put the paper in his shirt pocket, pick up a stack of the clay cups and wave them in the tea seller’s face. He lost his grip and the stack of cups started to teeter. Then, one by one, they fell to the sidewalk and smashed.
By the time the cows had crossed the road and our tuk-tuk was moving again, I was laughing so hard I couldn’t even see.
“I’m having a really good day!” I called out to the city.
Not long after that, Dr. Indra told the driver to pull over, and the tuk-tuk came to a stop. I was sorry the ride was over, but I was also curious to see what would come next. After all, I was hungry!
Dr. Indra held out her hand for me to take. It was an invitation, not an order. I could take it or leave it.
I decided to take it.
She held my hand loosely. I could easily slip away if I wanted.
We left the sunny, noisy street and walked into a large room that was open to the city at one end and cool and dark at the other. The thick cement walls kept out a lot of the city noise. I saw plants and trees through the windows. It felt like a calm place.
Rows of chairs held rows of people. Some were in business clothes and talking on cellphones. A teenaged boy was wearing jeans. He had plugs in his ears, and he was tapping his feet. A young woman was reading from a big thick book and making notes on a pad of paper. An old man in a long robe and a turban played finger games with the baby on his lap.
No one looked afraid.
The doctor took me past the rows of chairs and through a door into a little room that was also full of people on chairs. A man behind a desk looked up at Dr. Indra.
“Here on your day off?” he asked her. “You can’t stay away from us, can you?”
“I have a new friend,” the doctor said. “This is Valli.”
“Hello, Valli.”
He smiled at me. He seemed friendly, but I had learned that you couldn’t always trust smiles. Some smiles were lies. Some smiles were followed by hands grabbing at you and pulling you into an alley.
In a quieter voice, the doctor told him, “I need a quiet room for an examination right away. This is not a girl who will wait.”
The man looked through some papers.
“The shoemaker is away today,” he said. “Will his workshop do?”
“It will,” the doctor said. “Perfect.”
“And I’ll bet Valli would like something to eat,” he said. He
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