Chained by Lynne Kelly

Author:Lynne Kelly
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780374312503
Publisher: Farrar Straus Giroux

18

An elephant separated from its herd will try to find its way back.

—From Care of Jungle Elephants by Tin San Bo

The days start to grow warmer and longer, and for the first time in months, I count the marks on the stable wall. When I reach one hundred, I carve a long line on the wall to mark my place so it will be easier to count next time. I count the row of marks beyond the long line and realize I’ve been here almost half a year.

My hair falls into my eyes as I stand, and my fingers get stuck in the tangles when I try to brush it back with my hands. It’s grown past my shoulders now and is always in my face as I work. At home Amma would cut our hair with her sewing scissors then throw the hair outside into the wind. In a shrub near our home I once found a bird’s nest with black hair woven in with the twigs and brown leaves.

In the supply shed I find a pair of shears. With one hand I gather my hair, then with the other I reach the shears back and snip the hair off.

Outside, the wind blows toward my home. I hold up the handful of hair and release it to a gust of wind and watch it fly away. I dream that the wind is strong enough to carry it all the way to my village, where it will help make a nest for a bird. And Amma will see the wavy black hair woven into the nest and know that I am all right.

Again I plan our escape. This time I will be ready. I will not endanger Nandita this time by leaving on impulse. One evening after her bath, I place an empty iodine bottle under the straw in the stable. The bottle is large but light and has a lid to hold the water inside after I fill it. Near the forests there will be plenty of water, but rivers and streams will be hard to find once I enter the desert.

My pocketknife is with me always. When it’s time to leave I’ll have to grab the ax on our way to the property fence. Nandita barely fit through the wooden gate last time, and she’s grown since then. But if I chop away at the fence post next to the metal gate, I’ll be able to free the gate from the chain that holds it closed.

Each day as I work and each night as I sleep, I dream of home. I imagine feeling dry sand again and seeing smoke pour from our courtyard stove in my village. I dream of the baking roti and of the buttermilk calming its steam. And my mother’s whole-face smile.

I long to hear the mooing of our cow, play ball with Raj, and even look forward to seeing a camel again. Most of all, I need to know if Chanda is all right.

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