Free Three Bargains: A Novel by Tania Malik

give you cause to bow your head in front of anyone. And there were some who would leave you like a skinless goat hanging from the tree outside the butcher’s shop.
    “A girl as young as that, he must have got a good price,” Avtaar Singh said, mixing the curry into the rice.
    “Anything you can do, saab.” Madan’s mother sobbed. “You can take my pay; we will work for free for as long as you want . . . we just want our girl back.”
    “Selling a child, even for marriage, is illegal. We may need to involve the police. Are you ready for that?”
    His mother sniveled, but Madan’s head snapped up.
    “He can go to jail, saab,” he said, as his mother choked back a surprised cry. “Or you can do whatever you want with him.”
    Avtaar Singh stopped chewing and considered Madan. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and smiled.
    “Durga, go get me some onions and a bowl of curd to go with this.” He sat back and waited, his gaze fixed on Madan.
    His mother stopped crying, her eyes darting from Madan to Avtaar Singh. “Go,” he said again in the way that made men quake. “I will talk with Madan.”
    Madan heard her back out of the room, the door shut and Avtaar Singh said, “There should be no secrets between us, Madan. My trust and my support can be very beneficial to you, and your family. I know what I know about your father. But”—he paused—“what are you willing to tell me about him?”
    “Ma needs . . . she wants to keep her job.” Madan said first.
    “That’s fine,” said Avtaar Singh.
    Madan held out his hand, and Avtaar Singh looked at it, surprised. Madan wanted to let Avtaar Singh know he was serious. There was no one else who could help them find Swati, and if he was going to expose Bapu’s treacheries, he wanted some gesture from Avtaar Singh that he would not go back on his word.
    “What’s this?” Avtaar Singh said. Madan swallowed but kept his hand extended. He hoped Avtaar Singh wouldn’t think it childish or take offense, but to seal this bargain between them, Madan had nothing else to offer but a handshake.
    “Such a gesture is not really needed with me,” Avtaar Singh said, giving Madan’s hand a firm solemn shake nonetheless, “but I hope, boy, that this will be the first of many dealings between us.”
    Madan couldn’t imagine what else he would ever possess that Avtaar Singh would need, but for now he was overflowing with information. He told Avtaar Singh about skimming the money from the collections, and Nathu who covered it up, the Jalnaur gang and the gambling debts, and the drinking that made his father so happy yet so sad.
    It didn’t take very long. The list of his father’s sins was short but ran deep. Avtaar Singh was quiet once Madan finished. The door opened and his mother came in, placing the bowls on the table.
    “We will find her,” said Avtaar Singh to his mother. “I’ll send someone right away.”
    She fell to Avtaar Singh’s feet. “God bless you, saab. For the rest of my life I will pray for you every day, for all your wishes to come true. God bless you.”
    Avtaar Singh waved her away. “Save your prayers, Durga.” He smiled over her head at Madan. “Madan has given me what I need.”

    They waited. Unable to endure his grandfather’s big rolling tears and his mother’s stifling despair, Madan hung out about town with Jaggu, or spent time throwing stones into the muddy waters of Western Gorapur Canal. In the evenings, he went to the factory gate, waiting for Avtaar Singh’s men to emerge. We’ll come to you when we have something to report, they said, you don’t have to come every day. But Madan found he couldn’t stop.
    A long week later, as farmers plowed the last stubble of basmati to make room for the winter wheat, there was a knock on their door past eleven at night. “Durga? Durga? They found your girl. Saab said to take you to the hospital.”
    Tumbling off their mats, hurriedly fixing their clothes, Ma and Madan opened the door to