Born Behind Bars - Hardcover

Venkatraman, Padma

 
9780593112472: Born Behind Bars
Hardcover
ISBN 10: 0593112474 ISBN 13: 9780593112472
Verlag: Nancy Paulsen Books, 2021

Inhaltsangabe

“Venkatraman has never met a heavy theme she did not like....Borrowing elements of fable, it's told with a recurring sense of awe by a boy whom the world, for most of his life, has existed only in stories.”—New York Times Book Review

The author of the award-winning The Bridge Home brings readers another gripping novel set in Chennai, India, featuring a boy who's unexpectedly released into the world after spending his whole life in jail with his mom.

Kabir has been in jail since the day he was born, because his mom is serving time for a crime she didn't commit. He's never met his dad, so the only family he's got are their cellmates, and the only place he feels the least bit free is in the classroom, where his kind teacher regales him with stories of the wonders of the outside world. Then one day a new warden arrives and announces Kabir is too old to stay. He gets handed over to a long-lost "uncle" who unfortunately turns out to be a fraud, and intends to sell Kabir. So Kabir does the only thing he can--run away as fast as his legs will take him. How does a boy with nowhere to go and no connections make his way? Fortunately, he befriends Rani, another street kid, and she takes him under her wing. But plotting their next move is hard--and fraught with danger--in a world that cares little for homeless, low caste children. This is not the world Kabir dreamed of--but he's discovered he's not the type to give up. Kabir is ready to show the world that he--and his mother--deserve a place in it.

Die Inhaltsangabe kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Padma Venkatraman (padmavenkatraman.com) was born in India and became an American after living in five countries and working as an oceanographer. She also wrote The Bridge Home (Walter Award, Golden Kite Award, Global Read-Aloud), A Time to Dance (IBBY selection, ALA Notable), Island's End (CCBC Choice, South Asia Book Award), and Climbing the Stairs (ALA/Amelia Bloomer List, Notable Social Studies Trade Book for Young People). She lives in Rhode Island.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

1 
Beyond a Patch of Sky
 
Beyond the bars, framed by the high, square window, slides a small patch of sky.
 
For months, it’s been as gray as the faded paint flaking off the walls, but today it’s blue and gold. Bright as a happy song.
 
My thoughts, always eager to escape, shoot out and try to picture the whole sky—even the whole huge world.
 
But my imagination has many missing pieces, like the jigsaw puzzle in the schoolroom. All I’ve learned here in nine years from my mother and my teachers is not enough to fill the gaps.
 
Still, it doesn’t stop me from imagining we’re free, Amma and me, together, exploring the wide-open world that lives beyond the bars.
  
2
Not Family
 
"Up! Up!” our guard yells at us. I call her Mrs. Snake because she hisses at us every morning. “Lazy donkeys!” She’s the meanest of the guards, but also the most elegant, with her neatly combed hair pinned into a tight knot.
 
Looking at her crisp khaki uniform and shiny boots always makes me feel extra scruffy. I wiggle my bare toes. At least I have slippers. Amma and the other women go barefoot.
 
My mother’s hands reach to cover my ears as the other guards join in, calling us worse names than donkeys. Doesn’t Amma know I can hear them anyway? Doesn’t she remember I’ve turned nine today?
 
I’m no baby, but I don’t shove her hands away. I like her fingertips tickling my ears, even though Amma’s skin is as rough as the concrete floor. Only one thing in this room is soft: Amma’s voice, saying, “Looks like the rainy season is over and the sun-god wants to wish you a happy birthday, Kabir.”
 
“Today’s your birthday? Best wishes, Kabir.” Aunty Cloud gives me a quick smile and returns her gaze to the floor. Aunty Cloud likes looking at the floor as much as I like watching the sky.
 
“You think Bedi Ma’am will bring me a treat?” I ask.
 
“Of course,” Amma says. “Your teacher is fond of you.”
 
“Almost twice as old as he should be to still be living here,” Grandma Knife cuts in. “Too old.”
 
Too old for what? Everyone in this cell’s way older than me, and she’s by far the oldest. I give Amma a questioning look, but she avoids my eyes.
 
Grandma Knife stretches her long arms and rolls up her straw mat. “Can’t believe you’re, what, nine? You still look as small as a six-year-old.”
 
I slip my hand into Amma’s, where it feels safe tucked inside her palm.
 
Grandma Knife is not family. Grandma Knife isn’t her real name, either, just what I call her in my head, because it fits with her sharp tongue. Amma forces me to call all the women living in our room aunty or sister or grandma, though we were just packed in together by the guards.
 
Only Amma and I are family. At least, Amma and I are the only family I’ve seen with my eyes—the others I’ve only imagined from stories she’s told me on nights when she wasn’t too tired.
 
Everyone in our cell is awake now except Mouse Girl, the newcomer. She manages to sleep through the morning racket—until Grandma Knife’s big toe prods her, making her yelp.
 
Only last night, a guard shoved Mouse Girl into our room. She stood by the door, twitching with fear, until Amma waved her over to us.
 
“You can squeeze in here.” Amma yanked our mat closer to the wall to make space where there wasn’t any.
 
“She didn’t say thank you,” I whispered.
 
“Her eyes did,” Amma said, but I only saw them fill with tears. “She’s just a teenager,” Amma said. “So young.”
 
I’m a lot younger, but I always remember to say thank you.
 
Mouse Girl’s quiet, but she appears to be quite sneaky too. She tries pushing past Aunty Cloud to be the first out the door for the bathroom.
 
“Respect your elders!” Grandma Knife’s bony fingers clamp around Mouse Girl’s wrists like handcuffs. Mouse Girl stumbles back and steps on Aunty Cloud’s feet.
 
Aunty Cloud doesn’t say a thing, just floats by, ghostlike.
 
As I shuffle forward, Grandma Knife cracks her knuckles. I try to keep from peeking at her fingers, but I can’t help sneaking a look. Grandma Knife’s hands are strong enough to snap a rat’s neck. I’ve seen her do it.
 
Amma says we should be thankful for Grandma Knife’s incredible fingers, and I know Grandma Knife helps keep us safe, but I can’t help fearing she’ll someday pounce on me.
 
3
Rivers

"Don’t push!” Mrs. Snake hisses as we join the line to use the bathroom.
 
Mouse Girl tugs on my raggedy T-shirt to hold me back as she elbows her way ahead. My T-shirt rips even more. I glare at her, but she doesn’t apologize, and now I’m sure I picked a bad
nickname for her. She’s a pushy one, not a frightened mouse.
 
“Never mind,” Amma says. “She probably needs to go really bad.”
 
“We all have to go really bad,” I mutter.
 
The stench of the toilets is as strong as a slap in the face, but I try concentrating on the one good thing about the toilet: It’s the only place I can actually be completely alone.
 
After I’m done, I stand at the cracked sink and use my fingers to rub tooth powder on my teeth. Then I join the crowd waiting to fill their plastic bottles and buckets with water to wash with and drink for the day.
 
As the water trickles out of the rusty tap, I imagine I’m standing near a wide river, like in a poem my teacher read to us about rivers singing.
 
Rivers can’t sing! They don’t have mouths! Malli had objected. Malli is sort of my friend, although she’s only five. Her thoughts don’t float out of jail as often as mine.
 
“Hurry up, you—!” someone barks.
 
I shrug. I can’t make the pale orange stream of water trickle into my bucket any faster. I tune out the grumbling crowd of women behind me and think about how good it would feel to sink both feet, both ankles, both knees, even my entire body all the way up to my shoulders, in a river of cool, clear water.
  
4
A Piece of Candy
  
"Power cut!” Grandma Knife curses as the tiny ventilation fan in our cell stops puttering.
 
It never cools the room much, but when there’s no electricity and it can’t even move a tiny bit of air, I feel like a grain of rice boiling in my own sweat.
 
“I’m going to faint,” Mouse Girl says as a stream of sweat trickles down the tip of her pointy nose. “If I don’t die of hunger first.”
 
My stomach grumbles loudly, but I say nothing. Complaining won’t make our morning meal appear any faster.
 
Aunty Cloud presses a handful of candies into my palm. Aunty Cloud’s children visit her on Saturdays and bring her sweets—and she always brings some back to share with us.
 
“Thank you, Aunty.”
 
I offer the candy to Grandma Knife, who displays her uneven teeth. “You know I can’t, boy. They’ll just make my teeth rot...

„Über diesen Titel“ kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.

Verlag
Nancy Paulsen Books
Erscheinungsdatum
2021
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0593112474
ISBN 13 
9780593112472
Einband
Gebundene Ausgabe
Anzahl der Seiten
272
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
Nicht verfügbar

Weitere beliebte Ausgaben desselben Titels

9780593112496: Born Behind Bars

Vorgestellte Ausgabe

ISBN 10:  0593112490 ISBN 13:  9780593112496
Verlag: Penguin Young Readers Group, 2023
Softcover