Book Title: The Schoolyard Bet
Author: Manu Namboodiri
Publisher: Westland
Number of Pages: 250
ISBN: 978-9360454364
Date Published: Aug. 26, 2024
Price: INR 249
Book Excerpt
Chapter 5
You Snooze, You Lose
The van rumbled down the bumpy road, bouncing the teens around on the floor inside garbage bags. Beena tore open her flimsy camouflage first. ‘Afzal, when we get home, remind me to kill you. I almost suffocated inside this stupid thing.’
Hearing her, Afzal ripped his bag open as well. ‘Yeah, but it worked, didn’t it? Rup, how are you doing in there?’
Rup had been too big to fit into one bag, he had to use two of them. Beena giggled as he tried to slither out.
‘How did the guards miss us?’
‘They expected an empty van with empty crates and trashbags—and that’s what they saw. These vans make a thousand such trips, so it becomes mundane and routine. See, I told you. This is going to be a cinch.’
Rup leaned on the side of the moving van to stabilize himself, almost as if he was mind-melding with the wall. ‘Thevan is slowing down.’
‘We jump out as soon as the doors open. Be ready.’
The van drove past an open-air market, turning into a small dirt parking lot. It headed directly for a large dumpster in the back. After backing the van up to the dumpster, the driver got out, humming a tune as he made his way to the back. He threw open the swinging doors, his brain on autopilot.
But in a departure from his usual routine, three young people sprang out of the van like athletes competing in a steeplechase. One of them, a particularly well-built one, almost toppled him over. The surprised driver huffed and spun as they rushed by him. He waved his fists in the air and shouted curses as the three towaways raced into the market and disappeared in the crowd. The driver paused, conflicted.
Should I call and inform the gurudwara authorities? They might sack me for transporting kids. Or they might sack me for the mess in the back. Or even for not informing them. Can’t win.
Beena glanced back towards the alleyway. ‘Let’s slow down. I don’t think the driver is chasing us.’
They slowed to a walk as they entered the crowded market. Suddenly, Beena hissed, ‘Rup! Give me the backpack!’
‘What? Why?’
She snatched the bag from him, unzipped it and pulled out a dark, flowing piece of clothing.
‘Shit, Bee’s right. We must blend in. Also, this magic backpack has everything.’
Rup removed the orange pagri from his head. He surveyed the dusty little neighbourhood, the small shops and a banged-up vehicle nearby.
No one seemed to be watching, and most of the women were covered head to toe in loose black. ‘We’re not in Shimla anymore,’ he said, stuffing his turban into the backpack.
‘Nothing to worry about. We’ll be home in Shimla for dinner tomorrow.’ Afzal patted his big friend on the shoulder.
Beena swiftly pulled the niqab over her clothes. She took out some cash from her trousers, stuffed it into the side of the niqab and made final adjustments to the flowing garment.
‘This thing is hot. And I can barely see anything.’
‘We’ll be in a bus soon, the wind will cool us down.’ Afzalscanned the area. ‘Now, where do we catch the bus to Lahore?’
‘I thought we’re going to Rawalpindi. Isn’t that where Latifis?’
‘Yes. But to reach Rawalpindi, we go through Lahore. It’s the nearest city, so a lot of buses should be going there.’
‘How do we do that? Get to Lahore, I mean,’ asked Beena, peering through her niqab.
As they walked, Rup’s eyes flitted around. This was an odd, new place and he expected to find everyone staring at them, but no one seemed to acknowledge their existence. His shouldersrelaxed. ‘Alright, Urdu master, lead the way to Lahore.’
Afzal laughed, smacked Rup’s shoulder and pointed at a faded green sign with peeling red letters. ‘That says bus stop. It might be a clue, don’t you think?’
‘Well, aren’t you Sherlock Holmes?’ Beena examined the sign. ‘Glad you can read Urdu. Does it say bus to Lahore?’
‘Yup,’ replied Afzal. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a stack of Pakistani rupees. ‘I converted a bit of extra money at the temple for sundry expenses.’
Rup plunged a hand into one of his own pockets and pulled out a fistful of cash as well. ‘I have some extra too. Will this help?’
‘Ha! So, what could’ve been a chink in my blueprint becomes an asset. We have plenty of money now. Here, take mine too. You can be the official treasurer for our mission.’
Rup snatched the money and looked down haughtily at his friend. ‘You should’ve let me in on your plans from the start. I’ll keep track of every expense.’
‘Rup, I’m glad you stumbled onto us. Now we’re all together. That’s the way it should be.’
‘I really thought our adventure would end at the temple gates. I hate to say, but it has gone well so far,’ Beena admitted grudgingly.
‘What did I say? Easy-peasy. Saral kaam.’
Beena spotted juicy apples at a roadside stall near the bus stop, selected three and paid for them. She tossed them each anapple, ‘Healthy snack for the ride to Lahore.’ She scanned the surroundings one more time as they stood around at the dusty bus stop, but everything seemed okay. Maybe Afzal was right.
With full-throated confidence, Afzal said, ‘The bus will be here soon, and we’ll be off to Lahore. I told you this would be easy as pie.’
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Excerpted with permission from The Schoolyard Bet by Manu Namboodiri, published by Westland.
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