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By Root 1280 0

try to extract from her. He was the first real man, the first settled, unattached professional man she'd ever met. He'd traveled, been married, and he'd taken an interest in her. In just one morning, three hours into her new life, she'd been lifted from Gauripur into a new city, into a new century and a new currency, where crores were the new lakhs, lakhs the new rupees. She would have gone anywhere with Mr. GG, done anything he asked. Next to Mr. GG, Peter Champion seemed flimsy and Rabi Chatterjee a mere child. All that remained was making a first move, a sign of interest or intent, and she didn't know if she should make it, or even if he would recognize it. And so she just waited.

"You're wondering what comes next, isn't it, Miss Bose?"

He could read her mind. "I am a little frightened," she admitted. "I haven't slept in a bed or eaten a meal since I left." Oops, that was getting too close to the truth. And I haven't bathed and my clothes are filthy and I can still smell the privies and see women and girls climbing into trucks while drivers lifted their lungis... Mr. GG's concerned face drew a little closer, and he took out a handkerchief and daubed her eyes.

"If things get really bad, you can always go back to Kolkata."

How to tell him she'd been to Kolkata three times in her life, and she couldn't even go back to Bihar? Banned from Bihar: that had to be the pits. Bangalore was it, the beginning and the end. What was it that Rabi Chatterjee had told her? She repeated it. "It's all a matter of light and angles, isn't that so?" she said.

That seemed to stun him. "I suppose you could say so." He studied her face; she flashed him a full-wattage smile. He relaxed.

"A girl like you won't be lonely for long."

A girl like me? What did it mean, and who or what, exactly, am I like? Why does he hope I'll stay? And so she voiced the question. "A girl like me, Mr. GG?" He seemed to know her better, or thought he did, than she knew herself. He did reach out for her hand and gave it a squeeze and she drew closer, expecting at least to give or to receive a hug or maybe a kiss, but Mr. GG was the perfect gentleman, which left her even more confused.

"What I meant is a girl like you is full of surprises. Next time we meet, I might not even recognize you. But I'm sure we'll meet again," he said.

She replied, "I'd like that."

"Unassailably genteel, but no mod cons." He thrust a hand out the driver's window and gestured toward the derelict mansion that was to be her new home. "You must be wondering why I haven't directed you to more modern lodgings. Or at least offered you temporary hospitality in my house." It hadn't crossed her mind. "With my parents and my sister-in-law and her children visiting, spontaneity is a burden."

Why is he telling me these things? she wondered.

He squirmed a bit in the driver's seat, and she prepared herself for whatever was to come, but he only released his seat belt, got out, and took her muddy, battered Samsonite from the trunk. Then he opened her door and took her hand to help her to the curb. He handed her his business card. "You're wondering how you can thank me, aren't you, Miss Bose? Not to worry, let's just forget it for today." He scribbled a cell-phone number on the card. "That's for when Mad Minnie makes life inside hell."

With a mock salute, he strode back to the Daewoo. Angie tried to reconcile Peter Champion's Mrs. Bagehot with Mr. GG's Mad Minnie. She was glad, she decided, that she had his private phone number. No shame in accepting help from people willing, even eager, to assist her. A job is the key to happiness, she calculated. A job brings respect and power. Money brings transformation. Stagnation creates doubt and tyranny. Money transforms a girl from Gauripur into a woman from Bangalore.

3

Anjali waited by the curb until twelve o'clock. No one had entered or departed the property. Two goats wandered through the untended gate and soon lost themselves in the undergrowth. Finally, she followed the goats, dragging her bag behind her. The carved iron door knocker, surely an