CHAPTER ONE

I poured water from the bucket into my brass pot and handed the bucket to my friend Danya. Two other girls were chatting at the well, waiting for a turn to fill their pots. “I have to hurry home,” I said, placing the pot on my head. “The midwife thinks my mother will deliver the baby very soon.” “I’ll walk with you,” Danya said. “I’m glad the baby waited until we were on holidays.” I laughed. “My mother and grandmother are glad too, so I can help with everything for a few weeks. I'm excited about the baby, but I’d rather be away at school where we don’t have to carry water and wash clothes in the river and cook meals over a smokey fire.” “It’ll be years before life in our village is more like life in town,” Danya said as we walked on the dirt path between rows of houses, some with brick walls and tin roofs, others with mud walls and roofs of thatched palm leaves. “I heard one of the girls at school saying that her village finally got mobile service,” I said. “Let's hope we’ll get a cellphone tower near our village soon. It’d be fun to phone our friends when we’re home on holidays.” We were near my home when we heard a long wail. “That came from your house,” Danya said. I put both hands on my pot to keep it balanced on my head as I hurried home. Chickens scattered out of my way when I stepped onto our veranda. I set the pot down and paused at our doorway, which was covered with a sari when my mother started in labour. I heard a baby's cry. "Mother? May I come in?" "Yes, come," the midwife answered. I held the sari back and entered the shadowy room. The smell of blood was the first thing I noticed. "Is the baby okay? Are you?" "Oh, Shanti, another girl. I'm so unlucky," my mother wailed. "Shh," said the midwife as she gently wrapped the squirming baby in a towel. She placed her in my arms and turned back to attend to my mother. My grandmother was cleaning up the mess from the birthing. Tears filled my eyes as I looked at the baby's face. "She's beautiful. I'm happy to have a little sister." "No, no, your father will be so angry I didn't give him a son," my mother moaned. My grandmother shook her head and muttered, “He’ll soon find a husband for Shanti.” I was stunned. Father couldn’t do that to me. “But I’m only fourteen. I’m doing well in school, and it’s against the law for girls to get married before they’re eighteen.” My grandmother grunted. “That doesn’t matter in our village. Your sister was married at your age. Balamani didn’t need school to learn how to cook and look after her husband.” I pressed my lips together so I wouldn’t say something disrespectful. I looked at my new sister. She opened her dark eyes wide and gazed at me. Love filled my heart and I smiled at her. "Don't listen to them, little one,” I whispered. “We'll show them girls can do anything. We must have big dreams. I promise I’ll do my best at school and teach you everything I can.” “Shanti, bring the baby to your mother to feed,” the midwife said. She settled my sister against my mother’s breast. I was amazed at how such a tiny baby knew what to do to get milk. My mother smiled as she gently ran her fingers over the baby’s cheek. “She looks like you did, Shanti.” I hoped she wouldn’t say anything more about wanting a boy.