Even Saints need help

Sensitive Content Warning: This story deals with difficult subjects including sexual violence, child trafficking, exploitation of children, grief, and violence. Some readers may find these themes distressing.

When her telephone rang, Josi ignored it.

She knew who was calling, and why. She didn’t want to worry her mother. Not that avoiding her calls would alleviate maternal anxiety. At this moment though, talking to her mother would only mean arguing, which would only agitate her. And she needed to stay calm and focused tonight.

For once, she would be the one going into the action, not Kabir.

She went over the information they have gathered for the millionth time. She had been wearing saree they had borrowed from Shalu’s mother. Josi had spent the last couple of hours walking the alleys in the slums until sweat dampened her back and the smells of the neighbourhood clung to her skin.

When the phone buzzed again, Josi sighed and answered.

“Hullo, Aai. What's up?”

“Don't 'what's up' me, Jyotsna. It's almost midnight. Why aren't you in your room? Why do I find pillows stuffed under your blanket? Again!”

Josi held the phone away from her ear as her mother launched into a familiar lecture about lying, being reckless, and how she needed to cut Kabir out of her life because he was a bad influence.

Then came the part Josi knew by heart.

What if something happened to her? How was she supposed to survive if the streets took her remaining daughter too?

Josi winced. The guilt trip, once again.

“Aai,” Josi tried to put a word sideways. “AAI, stop! I am fine. And I won’t be taken from the streets. Stop making me feel guilty, okay? I will tell you everything when I am home, okay?”

And before her mother could say anything more, she cut the phone. She was about to throw her phone away, but then she sighed and typed a message to her mother, apologising. Then turned it off.

When Josi had introduced Kabir to her mother as a mentor helping her gain social work experience for her journalism studies, her mother had accepted the explanation. But she wasn't fooled.

She knew it had little to do with social work and everything to do with vengeance.

Ever since Josi's sister had been raped and murdered, and the police had closed the case for lack of evidence, Josi had been obsessed with finding justice. Her mother had retreated into grief. Josi had drowned in anger.

Then Kabir had entered her life.

The anger had not disappeared, but it had found direction. Josi learned boxing with Kabir, coming home tired and exhausted, focused on her studies again, and stopped taking quite so many reckless risks. Yet she became more determined than ever to find justice.

Everyone knew Kabir as the local hero working in the slums to help children. What most people didn't know was that he also worked undercover, helping detectives and authorities.

And Josi.

He was her mentor, certainly. But after three years, she thought of them more as partners.

Josi didn’t like to lie to her mother. But it was for her own safety. The less she knew the better for her. Sighing, she buried all the thoughts down

She went to the sofa, where Kabir was deep asleep. She shook him once to wake him. He didn’t budge. He was ten years older than her – but he looked like a teenager when he slept. He grunted, “go away, Jos”.

“How can you sleep? We have the nightmare ahead of us tonight.” Josi said, irritated. “It’s time to go, Saint Kabir.”

Kabir, or Bhai as everyone called him, was the beloved social worker in Dharavi slums. He was born rich, clueless of the hard life of the poor. When he rebelled and decided to do something meaningful, instead of joining family business; his family was enraged. They threatened to disown him. He persevered, though, not caring about money at all.

And it had paid off.

He was well loved the people in Dharavi. With his charming smiles and playful behaviour, it was hard to not like him. He worked for many NGOs to teach the children, to help distribute the hygiene supplies, etc. His self-defence classes for the children made him something like a hero to them. The children adored Bhai. Unlike most adults, he taught useful things: how to run when running was the smartest option, how to escape when cornered, and to the girls, how a sharp knee to the groin could solve certain problems remarkably quickly.

Especially one girl, an orphan, raised by her abusive uncle and loving aunt. He had taken liking to her fierceness. He taught her to standup to her uncle when he came home drunk and started beating the shit out of her aunt and her. He was especially proud of her.

But then, the little girl disappeared one night, only to be found dumped into the gutter, brutally raped and murdered.

Kabir was beside himself with fury and sadness. As more children started to disappear, he used his family name to pressure the authorities to open an investigation. All came to nothing; lack of evidence the authorities said. Not enough to convict anyone, they insisted.

Except, he did find out that there was a gang who took the street children and sold them as sex slaves. Shalu, he learnt, tried to stop the criminals from taking some other girl she was playing with. Ending up paying the price for her bravery. Too high a price for a girl of eleven.

Since then, he had made it his mission to find the evidence, to catch the criminals red-handed. It had taken him three years. But he was patient, careful.

Josi had met Kabir in a dark alley while searching for her sister's rapist. She had been nineteen, with a knife hidden in her bag and enough anger to get herself killed.

She had been surprisingly good at tracking people, blending into the shadows, but she hadn't thought beyond finding the man. If it came to it, she had been ready to die—so long as she took him with her.

Kabir had stopped her before she did something stupid. Apparently he had been better at spying than her.

He taught her to channel her anger into something useful. Through him, she learned boxing. She volunteered, gathered information, and earned money that she quietly put into a secret bank account for her mother.

If something went wrong tonight...

No, she told herself. No, everything would be alright.

They already had enough evidence to bring the whole operation down. For more than two years, they had worked relentlessly, gathering information piece by piece. Even the children from the self-defence classes had helped, acting vulnerable to attract attention from predators, only to escape like Kabir had taught them.

Kabir's network of hackers and journalists had followed money trails across the world. They had recordings from women who had been offered money to sell their own children.

But tonight was different.

Tonight, they would finally learn where their headquarter was.

For the last six months, Josi had been playing a dangerous game. She posed as a poor single mother struggling to raise a young daughter on her own.

One of the gang members, Chhotu, had taken the bait. After months of flirting, he claimed he was in love with her.

He said they could build a life together. First, though, they had to get rid of her bastard daughter. And he knew just how. All she needed to do was meet the boss.

Tonight he was taking her to meet that boss.

She shivered and punched Kabir lightly on the shoulder.

“Get up, Kabir. It's time.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m getting up,” he mumbled. Then he startled awake and recoiled. “Gawwd, you stink!”

Josi smiled despite herself, “Come on. Help with the microphone.”

Sometimes Josi was jealous of Kabir.

Jealous of his wealth, his connections, and the way people listened when he spoke. Jealous of how he could take all his anger and turn it into something useful.

She was jealous that he had been the one to stop her that night years ago and make her see that rage would not bring her sister back. Jealous, too, of how easily he stepped into the role of hero.

And, most absurdly, she was jealous that he could sleep peacefully an hour before baiting a gang into their downfall.

They went over the plan one last time. Then Kabir helped hide the microphone inside her blouse.

“Try not to punch anyone unless absolutely necessary,” he said.

Josi rolled her eyes.

The plan was simple. Chhotu would take her to his boss. She would track the route using the GPS hidden in her braid, record their conversation through the microphone in her blouse, and memorize their faces.

Easy. Or maybe not.

Josi tried not to think about everything that could go wrong.

Chhotu was late. When he finally showed up, he seemed more drunk than usual. Or maybe high.

Josi forced herself to smile and asked if they would really be together after tonight. If she would finally be free of her daughter.

What a load of crap.

Chhotu laughed and put an arm around her. He was more handsy than usual. Josi fought the urge to shove him away and reminded herself to stay in the game.

They walked through dark alleys, Josi had never been before. Apart from a few stray dogs and drunk men, the streets were quiet.

After a while they reached a butcher shop, the one everyone said sold rotten meat. Chhotu led her through the back and into a small storage room behind the shop. The stench made her nauseous. Swallowing hard, she asked him in hushed voice, “Where are we, Chhotu?”

Someone else answered. “Oh look, Chhotu brought his latest hoe?”

Ignoring the lewd comments, Josi studied the room and the faces around her.

Chhotu pushed her forward toward a man sitting behind a makeshift table, where she saw many lines of drugs ready to be inhaled. His face was mostly hidden in the shadows, but with his prim white shirt and golden cufflinks made his standout. He didn’t belong with these scum.

“So, this is the girl you are obsessed with, Chhotu?” he drawled. His eyes settled on Josi. “Is your daughter really five, Kamli? You're so young yourself.”

Josi startled, realising he was talking to her.

The man stepped closer, cigarette smoke blowing into her face. Mistaking her discomfort for fear, he smiled. But then his tone became serious.

“Chhotu gets paid tomorrow for the girl. Bring her to the shop tomorrow and he'll take care of the rest.” He glanced at Chhotu and laughed. “Then he can take care of you. Don't keep such a pretty thing all to yourself, Chhotu, it will be unfair…”

The others laughed.

Josi lowered her eyes and let her lip tremble.

“Wh-where will my she go?” she whispered.

“Oh, don't worry. Her new owners don't like underfed children. She'll be fed and clothed.”

“Will I... see her again?”

It was Chhotu who answered, mistaking the meaning of her question.

“You don’t ever have to see her again, Kamli.”

“Wh-where will she go?”

“Oh, we don’t know, we have a few options. It will be an auction. So, you will be a reach wife’s man soon. Won’t you like that?” The man in shirt said, taunting.

Other men laughed.

“Now get out of here…. And no word to anyone, or you would wish you were dead before I am done with you. Understood?” He squeezed her jaw hard and pushed her away.

Josi felt a surge of anger and almost drove her right hook into his jaw. She forced herself to stay still. When Chhotu led her outside and said he wanted her to come home with him that night, Josi burst into fake tears. She begged to spend one last night with her daughter. After some grumbling, he agreed.

Before leaving, he grabbed her and kissed her hard on the mouth.

Josi fought the urge to vomit.

Her first kiss.

And it had come from a man who sold children. Josi felt sick.

Kabir was waiting for her at the corner of the street. The moment she saw him, her knees nearly gave away with relief. Safe. She was safe.

“Not here, Jos,” Kabir hissed, holding her up. “Come on. Let’s go.”

The ride to his apartment was silent. Once inside, Kabir sent her to take a shower, while he got to work. Last part of their mission was only beginning. And it was now upto him. Her part was done.

She wondered how he felt about it. She noticed, how he was completely awake now, as if possessed by something new. This is the Kabir only a few people knew, determined and controlled. She was lucky to be one of those few people.

When Josi came back, she felt a little better. She had scrubbed herself raw and brushed her teeth more times than she could count, trying to get rid of the memory of that kiss.

Kabir was already sorting through the recordings and finishing their report.

They called their artist friend who made sketched of the people Josi had seen in that dark room. She wondered who that man in white shirt was, she had seen him somewhere before. For the next two hours, Josi described every face she had seen while the artist sketched them over video

When they were done, they added the sketches to the report and sent everything to the detectives willing to look at it.

Now came the waiting.

They had recordings. They had sketches. They had the location of the gang's headquarters.

This time, unlike three years ago, they had enough evidence that nobody could ignore it.

Josi felt relieved as the computer made whooshing sound when the mail was sent. Only then did she realize she was shaking. Tears streamed down her face as Kabir pulled her into a hug.

“You did well, Jos,” he said quietly. “I couldn't have done this without you.”

He kissed the top of her head and held her a little tighter.

He had heard everything that happened in that room. The threats, the disgusting jokes, what Chhotu had expected from her if she had gone home with him.

But neither of them spoke about it.

They had known the risks from the beginning. What mattered was that she was safe and the mission had worked. When Kabir dropped her off at home a few hours later, he handed her a manila envelope stuffed with cash.

“Lay low for a few days, okay?” he said. “Maybe take your mom somewhere for a while. It'll be safer.”

Josi nodded.

Then she took the envelope and went inside.

Her mother was watching TV, but her eyes were fixed on the door. As Josi walked in, she stood up and slapped her across the face. Then pulled her in a tight hug, sobbing.

“I am safe, Aai. I am home!” she said, hugging her back.

She fetched two glasses of water from the kitchen and told her mother a shortened, safer version of everything she had been doing with Kabir. Her mother's eyes widened in horror. Then she became angry.

“Why do you have to do this, Jyotsna? I knew Kabir wasn't just teaching children in the slums. What if something happened to you? What if those people come after you?”

“Aai, it will be ok. No one will come after me.” Josi said, trying to convince herself too. “to be safe, we are going to go away tomorrow. Lay low and wait out the raid.”

“Do you think he’ll succeed?” she asked.

“I hope so,” Josi said. If not, she would have risked her life, her mother's peace of mind, and everything they had worked for. For nothing.

“I told you Kabir was no saint, Jyotsna,” her mother said. “I told you not to get involved in his heroics. I told you he would ruin your life. Look what you've gotten yourself into.”

“Aai, it needed to be done.” Josi was shouting now. “What they did to Shalu. What they did to Taai. Do you want them to keep ruining innocent lives? Someone has to do what the authorities cannot—or will not. That's Kabir. And me. And I'm not. Going. To stop.”

Her mother looked shocked at Josi’s passion. She understood. But she was still a mother.

The next morning they left Mumbai. Her mother called work and invented the death of a distant relative. A few days later, while travelling through the Konkan coast, Josi saw the news.

Every channel was covering their story.

The recordings she and Kabir had gathered played over and over. The sketches appeared beside photographs of the gang members. As expected, the man in the white shirt had disappeared. But now Josi knew why he had seemed familiar. He was a wealthy businessman from Mumbai, famous for donating money to charities for poor children.

The hypocrisy made her sick.

The news showed footage from the raid. Most of the gang had been arrested. Children had been found locked in a basement.

Then Josi spotted a familiar face in the crowd.

Kabir.

Standing among the bystanders, watching it all with a crooked smile on his face.

Kabir had done it. They had done it.

When her mother walked into the room and saw the news, she stared at the screen with tears in her eyes.

Josi nudged her shoulder.

“I told you it would be alright.”

“Oh, Jyotsna.” Her mother shook her head. “I am so proud of you. And that Kabir... maybe he is a good influence after all. Even saints need help to reach the sainthood.”

Josi grinned.

“I thought you told me not to get involved in the heroics of saints, Aai.”