Now, as I look at the girls sparring with each other, kicking and boxing, I feel that same thrill come back. I feel the electric current. I glanced at them often enough when walking into school in the past without really noticing them. Without noticing Rini Di. Baba and Chacha disapprove of everything she stands for. They’ve warned Mira Di and Mai that their interactions with Rini Di will come to no good. That “she is not of our world. Her life is her life. Don’t let her put ideas into your head.”Mira Di has told me about their conversations. About the stories that Rini Di tells. “She has opened my eyes to so many things. She tells me women are powerful. That they can earn their own living and don’t have to depend on men. All they need is an education and guts.”I once saw her march on the streets with students from Forbesganj College. They held a meeting in the Mela ground near us, demanding the punishment of some men who had raped and murdered a girl on a bus in Delhi. The Mela ground was full when she was speaking. Her voice was strong and full of passion. She spoke about freedom. That no one has any right to a woman’s body. That women should have the freedom to go out, night or day, to wear what they want, marry whom they want, study what they want, and have the livelihood they desire. That no one owns them. They have the right to a life without fear, she thundered from the makeshift stage while the students clapped. The energy was electric.Ruchira Gupta I Kick and I Fly Rock the Boat (April 2023)Baba and Chacha and all the men in our lane stood, listening. I remember Chacha’s sneer. “Who does she think she is? This is India. Women belong to their fathers and husbands. She has no idea about our culture.” Baba and other men from the gambling joint nodded in assent. I had never seen such unity among the quarrelsome men of Girls Bazaar. They had not allowed Mai or any of the women to go to the rally, even though the Mela ground was just a stone’s throw away.I had been mesmerized then and I’m mesmerized now. The tightness in my chest releases its grip. I loiter until Rini Di’s exercise group breaks, and everyone begins to disperse. Some of the girls walk to the hostel, but others walk to school. I spot a familiar curly brown head of hair in the crowd of girls and realize it’s Sadaf. But I stiffen when I see that she’s with Razia. If I try to talk to Razia, she’ll only ignore me.But Sadaf has been kind to me, especially since Rosy left—the only one who holds a place for me next to her on the bench in class. The only one who doesn’t laugh at Manoj’s pranks. I’ve often walked by her house on my way to school just to have the chance to walk through the nice neighborhood—the paved roads, neat gardens, walled houses. It’s not too far from my hut in the Girls Bazaar, but it feels like an entirely different world. My hand is waving at her before my nerves get the better of me.Sadaf jogs over and greets me with a smile. “Heera! Are you okay? I didn’t see you in class after lunch yesterday.” I watch her brow furrow as I explain what happened. “They’re bullies. I see how they treat you. They get away with everything,” she fumes. Suddenly, I feel as if I have an ally.Also Read: The Problems With Our Language for Sexual Health and AbuseBefore I can help myself, I flood my friend with a volley of questions. “What sport is this? Is it a game? How can I learn it? Can I join her classes? Now that I am expelled from school—”“Whoa! Slow down,” Sadaf laughs. “It’s kung fu. It was practiced for centuries in China. Now it’s popular all over.”“Do you think I can join and train under her?” I ask again.“You’ll have to ask Rini Di,” Sadaf responds.I nod, hopeful that Mira Di will be able to help me sort that out. As I say my goodbyes and turn to leave, I’m stunned to discover that Razia is running after me, her flowered cotton salwar kameez flowing behind her. She holds out a bag. Inside is a book and six hard-boiled eggs. I look at the book. Bruce Lee: Artist of Life. There is a photo of a man dressed in white, his fist up, poised for a kick.“From Rini Di for you,” she says, smiling shyly. My heart stops. Rini Di noticed me. And she’s made the standoffish Razia notice me too. I stare up at her. She must be the tallest girl in our class. I smile as I thank her. I savor the moment as I look at the book again, opening it up to a random page. There is no such thing as defeat until you admit one to yourself, but not until then.Excerpted with permission from I Kick and I Fly by Ruchira Gupta, published by Rock the Boat (distributed by HarperCollins India), Paperback INR 499.Ruchira Gupta is an Emmy award-winning activist and founder of the anti sex trafficking NGO, Apne Aap, that helps women and girls exit systems of prostitution. I Kick and I Fly is her debut fiction novel.