The Song of Kahunsha Read Online Free PDF Page A

been preserved on the cloth especially for him.
    “What’s this blood?” he asks, surprised.
    “I don’t know, but I have thought about it a hundred times.”
    “Is this my blood?”
    “No, you were clean.”
    “Is this my father’s blood?”
    “If that man was your father. That’s why I kept it.”
    Chamdi listens to her breathe. It is as if he can suddenly hear every sound in the room, even the softest.
    “Chamdi, how old are you now?” asks Mrs. Sadiq gently.
    “Ten.”
    “You are no longer ten.”
    “What?”
    “You are no longer ten. Age does not matter anymore. You are a man now, and it is my fault that I have made you the man you are. Forgive me.”
    Mrs. Sadiq leaves the room. Chamdi stands frozen, like a dumb animal.
    He has thoughts, so many of them, that they do not resemble thoughts at all. Some are just words like
blood
and
running
, and he imagines himself as a white bundle near the well, a bundle that made a grown man run in fear.

THREE.
    It is the middle of the night and all the children are sleeping. Chamdi is hungry and he regrets that he refused to eat dinner. But he did not feel like eating earlier.
    He now knows he has to leave the orphanage before it leaves him. He rises from his bed and looks around. In the dimness of the small light bulb that hangs in a corner of the sleeping room, he tiptoes to the foyer, stepping on the children’s rubber chappals, until he reaches the main door of the orphanage. He carefully slides the latch open so that no one else wakes up. The latch creaks a little, but he tells himselfthat on a night such as this a creak makes no difference at all.
    He opens the door, steps into the night, and walks straight towards the row of bougainvilleas. In the dark, he cannot see colours. But he uses his mind to light the petals up, and after a moment he begins to see shades of pink and red. He likes this, how the colours stand apart from the darkness.
    Then a horrible thought strikes. What if they tear apart the bougainvilleas when they break down the orphanage? He has loved them his whole life. No, he thinks, somehow they will survive. Buildings might come, but branches will break through the cement and continue to grow upwards, such is the power of bougainvillea.
    Now he understands why he is watching the bougainvilleas in the darkness. He is saying goodbye. If he had to leave during the day, it would be too much for him. He thanks them for the colours they have given him, then rushes towards them and puts his mouth to the red papery petals, not caring if thorns prick him. They love me too, he thinks, as they rustle against his skin. They do not mind being woken from their sleep. He tells them he has one favour to ask. He will pluck a fewpetals to take with him, and he hopes that it will not hurt them too much. He stuffs his pockets.
    There is one last thing he must do too.
    Chamdi goes back into the orphanage. He does not need to pack, for he owns nothing at all. He has been given a white cloth with three drops of blood on it, and whether it bodes well or not, he will carry that cloth and nothing else. He ties it around his neck like a scarf. Then he takes a few red petals in his fist and walks down the short corridor into Mrs. Sadiq’s office. She is asleep on the ground and he can hear her breathe lightly. He will not wake her up because there is nothing to be said. “Thank you” would be a stupid thing to say. In her heart, she must know that Chamdi is grateful for everything she has done.
    He places a few petals on Mrs. Sadiq’s desk and then changes his mind—he places them by her feet. Chamdi stands above her and thanks her with his mind and heart. He has never hugged her in his life and wishes he could do it now, but he does not want to wake her.
    He runs into the corridor, out the main door and into the courtyard.
    He does not stop to look back. He is not sure if he is crying and he does not care. He runs fasterand faster. Soon he is only a few feet away