Child of Spring by Farhana Zia

distance from one another, tense and watchful.
    At last it was time for the kill. Who would deliver the fatal blow? Sweeping their arms wide, Paki and Bala sent their kites into the final death embrace.
    I sucked in my breath. “Do it now, Bala!” I screamed. “Slice! Kill! Pulverize!”
    Bala and Paki each galloped backwards across half the length of the field, heel over toe, raising clouds of dust under their bare feet. Hand over arm, they reeled in the string.
    Beside me, Lali sucked in her breath. “Who will it be?” she whispered.
    Our eyes were glued to the sky. Who indeed?
    And then it happened. Maharani broke away from her tether and wobbled away on a wind current. Lodhi was victorious! Bala had won!
    “
Bo Kata
!” Bala’s final victory cry rent the air. He grinned from ear to ear.
    The crowd lifted him onto their shoulders and cheered: “Long live Bala! Long live Bala!”
    Then I caught sight of Paki coming toward me, a threatening scowl on his face. He charged like a mad bull and kicked dust at me. “It’s your fault!” he screamed.
    “Don’t be silly!” I retorted. “Jhansi-ki-Rani was not even your trump card. How can you blame me?”
    But I didn’t push my luck. I walked away quickly because when Paki got like that, there was no telling what he might do. I ran to get the seeds and joined Lali, Nandi, Pummi, Dev, and Hari to settle our account.
    I had won big! Poor Pummi, Hari, and Dev … Well, I did feel a little sorry for them!

Chapter 17

    A mma stoked the fire in the Big Kitchen, then kneaded the dough until it was soft and pliable. I helped chop up the onion and the fresh coriander for the egg curry. Little Bibi was waiting for her breakfast.
    “No money for food, but plenty to spend on kites!” Amma grumbled.
    “Bala collected a pile of coins at the end of the match,” I told her.
    “How so?” Amma’s fingers were now coaxing Little Bibi’s roti to puff up like a golden balloon on the smoking griddle.
    “He got other people to wager real money just like a bookie. He talked a good talk so the people who won didn’t win a lot and the people who lost, lost big—enough to give him some to keep for himself. Pretty smart,
nai
?”
    “Tcha!”
spat Amma.
    “My pocket would be bulging with coins too if I had wagered real money,” I said.
    “Nonsense!”
she snapped. “Careful what you say, little miss!”
    I quickly brought the subject back to Bala. “He’s going to be making some good investments with his money.”
    “Such as?”
    “He didn’t say exactly.”
    “That Bala,” Amma mumbled as she stirred the pot. “He’s nobody’s fool.”

    Rukmani’s chickens squawked and flapped as Dev sprayed water at them, trying to drive them away from the water pump. Little Hari was getting a thorough soaking too. His hair was plastered to his head and his shirt was stuck to his back. Dev bent over laughing at the chickens as they ran about crazily.
    “It’s not one bit funny!” I yelled. “Vimla Mausi’s going to be madder than a hornet if Hari catches a cold!”
    “Lali says it’s okay to have a little fun,” Dev whined. “She’s our big sister and she can tell us what to do but you are not allowed. You’re not our boss. So there!”
    I wanted to walk over and smack the impudent little thing right then and there, but I had more important things to attend to. “Where is Lali?” I barked.
    “Go find her yourself!” Dev said.
    I couldn’t believe it! I stomped over to their hut and found Lali picking out little stones from the rice. “Did you hear the mouth on that child?” I asked.
    Lali looked up from her winnowing basket. “Who? What child?”
    “Your brother Dev, that’s who. He’s getting too big for his britches. I can’t believe you let him talk back like that! If Durga was ever that cheeky, why, I’d pin her to the wall by her ears.”
    “Durga knows only how to coo.”
    “Lali! That is
not
the point!”
    “Basanta, Basanta. Tell me what you’re