The Best Day of My Life by Deborah Ellis Page B

in peace for a moment while I thought about that.
    â€˜Do you come here every day?’ I asked. Maybe she just liked to read the Bible at the burning ghat. People did all sorts of strange things. I knew of a park where people gathered every morning just to laugh.
    The woman didn’t answer right away. I looked up and saw that she was praying so I let her finish. She seemed like a serious woman who would want others to also be serious.
    I meant to stand quietly so she would think I was a good child and worth giving rupees to, but a bee started buzzing around my head.
    I waved it away. It returned. I thought it might be going to land on my back, so I spun around to shoo it and I lost my balance a little. I didn’t fall over, but I worried that the woman might think I was just a child who was playing around, and not a serious child who could discuss why Jesus was crying a lot better if she had a few dosas in her stomach.
    â€˜This man died outside the hospital where I work,’ she said. ‘No family claimed him. No one knew him, so I – you’re standing in hot coals!’
    She took my arm and pulled me away.
    In trying to escape the bee, I had stepped into the cremation pit where the unknown man was now coal and ashes, ready for the Ganges.
    â€˜There was a bee,’ I started to say. ‘I didn’t mean to disrespect …’
    The woman dropped to the ground and looked at my feet. I had to lean against her while she lifted up one then the other.
    â€˜You’re burned. And you’re cut.’
    The old pier had a lot of sharp bits of rusty metal on it. I must have scraped my foot on one of them. There was blood on it.
    â€˜It’s all right,’ I said, pulling my foot away. ‘Tell me more about the happy part of the Bible.’
    I wanted to get her thoughts away from my feet and onto the number of rupees she would give me.
    â€˜Who do you live with?’ she asked. ‘Who looks after you?’
    â€˜I look after myself,’ I said. I was starting to feel uneasy. I was used to people asking me questions when I asked them for money, but this woman acted like she really cared about the answers. She wasn’t just asking to make herself feel good.
    I had enough money to get some food. I started to walk away.
    She came after me and took hold of my arm. I knew what was coming next. She wouldn’t be the first person to hit me when I tried to get money from them.
    I raised my hand to protect my face from the beating.
    The knot in my kurta came loose. The coins I had collected clattered to the ground, mixing with the sand and mud that covered the old stone steps.
    â€˜Just hold on,’ she said. She didn’t let go of my arm while she crouched down and picked up all the coins. I kept squirming and trying to pull away.
    â€˜Let me go!’ I cried out. ‘Keep the money. Just let me go!’
    I was sure a beating was coming.
    She gave all the coins back to me. She had me sit beside her on the step until I was able to calm down.
    She touched a white patch of skin near my elbow.
    â€˜Do you have any more of these?’ she asked.
    I didn’t answer her. I took some mud from the step and rubbed it over the white patch to make it look more like the rest of my skin.
    â€˜Your feet are in bad shape,’ she said. ‘Tell me, do you feel the burns and the cuts?’
    The last time I said I felt no pain, people screamed at me and threw me out of their house.
    â€˜Yes,’ I said. ‘My feet hurt. A lot.’
    She kept looking at me.
    I shook my head. I felt as though I was doing something wrong, but I didn’t know what.
    â€˜I have magic feet,’ I whispered.
    â€˜I’d like you to come with me. My name is Indra,’ she said. ‘I’m a doctor and I can fix your feet.’
    â€˜My feet are fine.’
    â€˜Do you have a home? Yes or no.’
    I thought of what the old man said on my first day in