Vincent Alveeh had just turned eight. He was now old. And big. The world seemed to be full of endless possibilities.

The most important thing he wanted at this mature age was the freedom to go everywhere. To buy blue Lays from the kirana shop, play after school hours with the kids in his apartment complex, feed Parle-G biscuits to the dogs outside the church and visit his school friends during summer vacations.

These were not new things. These were things Vincent used to do earlier.

But these things had changed when Vincent’s father was sent to America by his company for a big project. He had left last year, around the time when Vincent’s summer vacation had ended. He was going to be away for a whole twelve months.

And Amma had started stopping Vincent from doing these things. Amma did not allow him to go to the kirana shop. They only shopped at Reliance Fresh or Big Bazaar because of the big savings offers. She didn’t let him play with the dogs because they were dirty and might bite. And whenever his friends called him on the intercom to come to the playground, Amma always said, “Vincent can’t go.”

The phrase “Vincent can’t go” had become so frequent that Vincent could see it hanging upside down from the ceiling, hiding behind the bed, forming bubbles in his milk, and even lurking inside cupboards. And Vincent couldn’t go anywhere.

Abbu was sent away because he was the best at managing his team. Vincent thought it was a big punishment for Abbu for being so good at his job.

Someone had given Vincent a diary that had a section called “Thoughts of Enlightenment”. Vincent always thought hard about what to write there.

Today, he added Never be too good at your job to the other highly valued life lessons.

  • Always save room for dessert.

  • Never wear white clothes.

  • Dark chocolates look good but taste bitter.

  • Always check your shoelaces before running.

  • If time stops moving, change the batteries of your watch.

  • Do not shower with cold water in winter.

  • Say grace and recite kalimas before bed.

  • Short hair makes you sweat less.

“Are you coming to my party, Alveeh?” Siraj shook Vincent by the shoulders.

“Yes?” muttered Vincent.

“So, are you coming to my birthday party? Did you ask Henry?” snorted Siraj.

Henry was short for Henrietta, a code name they used so that no one could figure they were talking about Amma. Since she had not been herself for the past year, it seemed right she had a different name now. Amma used to hum songs, sing prayers and hymns, and laugh at everything Abbu said. But since Abbu moved, she stopped humming and laughed rarely. She always had two lines between her eyebrows, which Vincent felt like rubbing away with his Nataraj eraser.

“No, I didn’t.” Vincent itched behind his ear. The itch had first appeared when Vincent had gone to see off Abbu at the airport so many long months ago. Since then, whenever things became hard for Vincent, the itch appeared out of nowhere.

“Well, you have to. It’s only two weeks away.” Siraj sighed.

Vincent could only think of Henry saying “no”. And the rush of small ants crawling on his scalp every time she said no.

Excerpted with permission from Vincent Can’t Go, Mariyam Fatima, illustrations by Habib Ali, Hole Books.