Chapter 22 Kavita Ridley #2
It was a sorry excuse for a prayer. She knew that.
But it was better than nothing, in her eyes.
Dale had had his own karma coming for him.
It wasn’t her job to get in its way. She’d just made it easier.
As she stepped through the garden, she peered into the ballroom again.
She turned around to find an older woman who favored Kavita in many ways.
The elderly women back in her home country had tried their best to provide for Kavita when she lived on the street.
Her heart twinged with pain as she thought of it.
India, 1915
The sun was mercilessly beating down on the people of Bombay, especially a very young and spirited eight-year-old Kavita.
She now knew only of survival, ever since her parents had died months prior.
The light in her bright eyes had dwindled.
Kavita ambled through the tiny alleyways, smothered by crowds of people, feeling as if she couldn’t breathe.
The aroma of spices warmed her empty belly, which growled persistently.
Her eyes watered, and she tasted the salt of her tears to calm her hunger.
Kavita’s small frame allowed her to get pushed against the crowd effortlessly.
She went to each vendor selling food, pleading for a bite.
They slapped her hand and shooed her away.
She roamed the streets farther, eventually seeing crowds of protestors all chanting in unison.
A man held a placard that said “Swaraj for India.” Kavita knew terrible things were happening, but she never understood their meaning.
The air was thick with emotions due to the political climate.
Gandhi was onstage with crowds gathered around.
His speech on the power of truth (Satya) inspired a young Kavita.
She felt even weaker, so she made her way to the back of the crowd and passed out. Little did she know that this would be her saving grace.
“Neer! Neer!”
Kavita heard the faint voice grow louder.
She knew she didn’t feel well, but her name was not Neer by any means.
She struggled to open her eyes and saw two girls a little older than she was, cradling her in their arms. Kavita’s eyebrows raised in amazement when she saw one of the girl’s intense eye color, the shade of a sparkling green gemstone.
“I heard you, Sulochana, and I see. She is hungry. We gotta take her to Anath Ashram. The sisters will help her,” Neer replied.
“What’s your name?” Sulochana asked while tilting her head in curiosity.
“Kavita. My name is Kavita. Malabar,” she said, then fell back asleep.
Kavita found herself wrapped in another young woman’s arms. She was unlike anyone she had ever seen before.
Her fair skin was scattered with dark-brown spots, and her eyes matched.
The young missionary, Emily Thames from Lake Forest, Illinois, had traveled back to India, where her family had been living as missionaries for the past decade.
She wanted to help unfortunate youth just like her family did.
Kavita’s almond-brown eyes sparkled in the sunlight when she saw the white walls filled with vibrant paintings.
The lace curtains swayed in the slight, gentle breeze.
It had been an eternity since Kavita had slept in a bed.
Children’s laughter echoed through the hallway, a sound foreign to Kavita’s ears.
Neer and Sulochana waved at her when passing her by.
It startled her but also filled her with a strange warmth.
Emily’s gentle touch on her head reassured her, dispelling her fears.
“You don’t have to be afraid now. You are safe here. Breakfast will be served soon.”
This felt like a setup to Kavita. She pulled the bright-colored quilt over her head, half expecting to wake up from this dream.
She was waiting for someone to grab her and hurt her with false promises, but something in her heart told her that this might be real.
Kavita pulled the quilt down, seeing Emily’s inviting face again.
The woman smiled at Kavita for reassurance.
“I also have some fresh clothes for you here after you wash up.”
Kavita was shocked that everything was true.
The dining table was set with a variety of metal plates and cups.
The children, all similar to her age, sat politely, waiting for their food to be served.
Suddenly, she saw poha, idli, and fruits brought by another older woman who she thought looked like her but had soft lines on her face and white hair.
Kavita sat quietly while her hunger slowly started to fade away.
“For what is done is done. Pain for more pain on others wouldn’t be how they wanted it.
” The lady pointed to the sky. “Live life anew and let go.” The fortune teller shuffled her feet, leaving as quickly as she had approached.
Pain for more pain? Kavita pondered the lady’s words.
Who would have more pain? She’d endured it enough.
Henrik met her outside as she sat by the cold, empty pool taking in the fortune teller’s words. He held a small piece of a burned red letter.
“I know you have been getting these letters too, Kavita. We all have; it’s not just Amelia and not just me. One of us did something, and it sure as hell wasn’t me.” He paused, looking at her seriously.
Kavita was uncomfortable seeing him so stern.
“I was there when Dale died, and I saw you. You are the reason for his death, aren’t you?”
Well, that was no way to treat the birthday girl on this dreadful morning—or better yet, mourning.