by T F Carthick
“Well, that was my sister Gretel’s doing…”
And he spilled the entire beans about how Gretel had collected the pebbles and left a trail. That was all she wanted to know. Now all she needed to do was to ensure the children did not know beforehand when they were going to be taken to the jungle. Then Gretel wouldn’t have time to collect pebbles.
So, it turned out that Gretel was taken completely by surprise when, a few days later, their parents announced the intention of taking the children to the forest. Hansel of course in his innocence did not suspect a thing. He clearly did not have his sister’s survivor instinct. But she knew from past experience where this was leading to. However, there was no time to collect pebbles. So, she decided to improvise. She decided to use the only thing she had – the bread they were taking along. She began to leave a trial of bread crumbs along the path.
But this was something I could just not condone. Come on! I do my best to keep food so scarce and how could someone just throw away food? This was unforgivable. And this had to be punished. Food was made to be eaten and had to be eaten. If the children did not, someone else had to - in this case the hungry birds and squirrels and field mice. I chuckled away to myself as I waited for the smug Gretel to start looking for the clever trail she had created.
“Oh, no! They are all gone.”
“What’s gone, Gretel?”
“The bread crumbs I had dropped along the way. They are all gone. We cannot find our way back now.”
“What? How could you…”
“This time, mother did not give me the chance to collect pebbles. It was all too sudden.”
“And you say you dropped all our food on the road as well. Now what do we eat?”
I was liking this. He was getting down to basics. What do we eat? That is one of the most fundamental questions, isn’t it? The children’s grit and resourcefulness was now going to be sternly tested. The jungle is one of my favorite places – it is completely merciless. Only the fittest survive. You either eat or get eaten. There are no prisoners taken.
“I don’t know. Maybe…let us try to find the way out. I will keep marking a notch on every tree we pass so that we don’t move in circles. If we keep moving on, eventually we should get out.”
Hansel meekly followed his sister. No drama. This kid was useless. One who would not have survived a day without his sister. But again, that’s his survival strategy – the one thing he knows to do well. To win the sympathy of his sister and stay firmly by her side. He is like those vines in the jungle that hang on to the big trees.
“I am so hungry. I am going to eat those berries.”
“No. No. Please don’t, my dear brother. Stay off those berries. We need to be careful. They might be poisonous.”
Now it was a contest between my brother “Death” and me. Would I claim them and hand them over to him or would he claim them himself through the medium of the poison berries and mushrooms? The four of us like to keep scores. How many Death can pick himself versus how many each one of us other three put into his box. It’s one of those nice family games.
“This mushroom looks so nice. It surely can’t be poisonous. Let me take a small bite, Gretel. Please. I am so hungry.”
Before she could respond, he had bitten a piece off. She just knocked the rest of it out of his hand.
“Hansel! You could have died. The things that look most attractive are the most dangerous.”
But he seemed to have survived the mushroom. He seemed mostly all right except for a strange glint in his eyes. They walked on for a while.
Suddenly Hansel jumped with excitement. “I see a cottage built of gingerbread, cakes, candy and with window panes of sugar.”
He ran excitedly towards the house, grabbed a tile off the roof and began to chew.
“Hansel! What are you doing?”
“Candy! Sugar candy! This roof is made of sugar candy. Have one,” he replied, handing her a tile.
“Hansel! Get a grip of yourself! This is not candy. This is just a…”
“Well! Well! Who do we have here?”
A very ancient-looking woman had emerged out of the cottage. She looked so old. Someone who had evaded us all these years. Must have been a real hardened survivor.
“We are sorry to disturb you, grandma. But we are lost in the woods. We are tired and hungry. My brother here seems to have eaten some strange mushroom and ever since has been behaving oddly. He definitely needs some rest. As do I. Please help us.”
“Of course. I am always glad to help. Do come inside.”
The house looked very shabbily kept and had a strange, musty odor. But then the children did not have much choice. They accompanied her inside. She set a plate of food in front of them. Few very small portions of some strange meat. But the children were so hungry that they just gobbled it all up.
“I don’t have too many comforts here, my dears. But you can lie down on those mats in the corner,” she said.
I was suspicious of this old woman. She seemed too good to be true. Food never came free. I knew it better than anyone else. So, there was something fishy. And someone as good as she seemed to be could not have survived so long.
Soon, night came. Around midnight the old woman woke up and fumbled around for some herbs. She put a few in a small cup and powdered them. Then she picked up a dried tobacco leaf, put the powder in and rolled it like a cigar. She then went up to where the children were sleeping. She held in her other hand a small lamp. With the lamp, she lit the cigar and threw it towards the children. Then she rushed to the other end of the house and settled down on the floor. She sat silently and watched. I wondered what was happening. What was that powder? What was she doing to the children? I didn’t want to go closer and take a look. I hated spoilers. It was more fun to watch things unfold slowly rather than find out everything too fast.
After nearly two hours, she walked towards them with the lamp. When she came near, her face contorted in shock and anger. I came closer to see what evoked such a reaction from her. There was only one of them – the boy. Where was the girl? I liked these kinds of delicious surprises. The old woman clearly did not. She looked around, but there was no sign of the girl anywhere.
Then she gave up and then walked back to the sleeping boy. She took out a rope and began to tie him up. She seemed intent, so intent on tying him up. Now was the time for Gretel to sneak up on her and conk her on her head. I waited with bated breath. But no Gretel came. Now this was strange. Where was the girl?
She left him trussed up and went about her chores. I could see a keen expression in her eyes. She was on the lookout for the girl. The girl would have to turn up eventually. An entire day passed. There was still no sign of her. I began to wonder if I was wrong about Gretel. Had she saved her own skin and made a getaway? But that seemed so unlike her. I resisted my temptation to go looking for her.
By evening the boy regained consciousness. He looked around, puzzled. The old woman saw him stir and came up to him.
“How are you doing, my boy,” she rasped.
“What is happening? Why am I tied up like this? Where is my sister?”
“One question at a time, my boy. The answer to the first question – you are now in my captivity. The answer to the second – so that you don’t get away. The answer to the third – I too am trying to find her.”
“But why? Why are you doing this to me?”
“Well. As of now you are a bait to catch your sister. I am sure she will come back for you. But why I wanted to dope you in the first place - it is a matter of simple survival. My supply of food has been running out. I need to quickly replenish it. Or I will die of hunger.”
This was the kind of talk I understood.
“You…you are not going to eat me, are you?”
“Eventually, yes. But right now, I am trying to get hold of your sister. Once I have both of you, I shall pickle you, then after you are fully cured, I will cut you up and add to my store.”
“No. No. Please
. Don’t kill me. Let me go.” The boy started weeping.
What a weenie! Why does he have to take this so personally? The woman had explained the situation to him so clearly. It was him or her. She had to do what she must to survive. It was just the law of nature.
She waited patiently till nightfall. There was still no sign of the girl. Eventually at midnight, the old woman fell asleep. An hour or so after she had gone to sleep, I heard feeble footsteps. Then there was the sound of the old woman’s cupboard being opened. Someone was pilfering her herbs. Then I could see the lamp moving. I knew what was happening. The girl had lived up to, and way beyond my expectations. She was going to give the old woman a dose of her own medicine. I watched in glee as I saw the cigar being rolled, lit and flung once again. An hour later, the old woman was tied up the way the boy had been the previous night.
The girl then went on to untie the boy. She had been smart. She had not let her guard down despite all the hunger and tiredness. A true survivor she was. I wanted to take her into my arms and kiss her on both cheeks. The boy deserved to be claimed by me. But for her sake I would spare him as well.
The two of them stayed in the house for the next few months. They rationed the old woman’s supplies and pulled along. The girl, despite her practical mindset, still had the normal human squeamishness. She could not bring herself to kill and eat the old woman. They fed her as well from the supplies. They supplemented the supplies with the odd rabbit, rat, frog or snake that came by. Over the period, they took turns to explore the forest and began to mark all the trees. Soon they had mastered the entire layout of the forest and knew it like the back of their hands. They extended their forays further and further till they finally managed to get back to civilization. It was now time to return to their home. They released the old woman and were soon on their way.
A surprise awaited them at home. Their step mother had died during child birth. With his second wife gone, their father was only too happy to receive them. That had been a lucky break. But ones who had lived through such adverse luck deserved at least that much of luck, didn’t they? They tided through the tough times and grew up to be a fine woman and a wimp of a man. I never visited them again. There were so many more interesting places to occupy my interest.
About the Author
T F Carthick is a Bangalore-based writer and blogger who has been blogging since 2008. He is an avid reader of Children’s Fiction, Science-fiction and Fantasy. Enid Blyton, J K Rowling, Isaac Asimov, Frank Herbert, Neil Gaiman and Douglas Adams are some of his favorite authors. His paranormal thriller ‘Bellary’ was one of the three stories in the book Sirens Spell Danger, published in 2013. Six of his stories have featured in multi-author anthologies and literary magazines. He has written over 50 short stories, many of which can be read for free on his blog www.karthikl.com.
He is an Engineer and MBA from India’s premier institutes IIT, Madras and IIM, Ahmedabad and currently works as an Analytics and Artificial Intelligence Consultant at one of the world’s leading Consulting Firms.
His Facebook Page - https://www.facebook.com/threerealmsofthemind/
His Twitter Handle - @TF_Carthick
Acknowledgement
No work in this world, big or small, can be a single man’s effort. Lots of people have to work behind the scenes to bring one individual’s vision to fruition. No amount of thanks would suffice for their contributions. But the least an author can do is to mention all the people who have in different ways ensured his book came into existence.
Suresh Chandrasekaran, the author of the book ‘A Dog Eat Dog Food World’ and one of India’s leading humor bloggers, has been my friend, philosopher and guide through my writing journey. He is the first person I go to for beta reads and his valuable suggestions have always contributed greatly towards improving my stories.
Percy Wadiwala, one of the most respected writers in online writing groups, has edited this book. Finding the right editor seemed a challenge for the fear that a portion, if not all, of my unconventional writing style might get edited out. But Percy turned out to be just the editor I was looking for. He has combed through the manuscript thoroughly, not once but thrice, spotting every little error and writing foibles, and suggesting changes without cramping my style.
Rashmi Prabhu has done the design and art work for this book. I went to her in panic at the last minute, after receiving some adverse feedback on my existing cover, looking for a quick solution. She has done a commendable job doing draft after draft incorporating various ideas and coming up with a brilliant new cover within a span of just 2 days.
The cover for this book was originally designed by Jo Lindsell. But, later, I decided the look was not suitable to the theme and went for a new designer. However, some of the ideas from the original cover did come in useful while designing the new one.
Ramesh Grandhi was one of the beta readers who not only gave me not only the confidence that this book was worthy of publication but also some valuable suggestions for my blurb. Tanim Mozumder, Ruchi Singh and Janani Srikanth were some of the other beta readers.
Pritesh Patil, Dola Basu and Nikita Jhanglani helped me with my blurb. Summerita Rhayne and Sundari Venkataraman helped me with useful advice on book publication logistics.
If Suresh and Percy are my go to people for writing advice, Rubina Ramesh and Neil D ’Silva are my go to people for advice on all other aspects of book production and marketing. Rubina Ramesh, an author of 3 books in Romance genre and a collection of short stories, runs the highly successful book marketing venture – ‘The Book Club’. Neil D‘Silva, the author of 5 books in the horror genre, runs one of the most popular groups for writers – For Writers by Authors, and an annual Literary Festival - Litventure.
There are many others who have contributed in many ways to the making of this book. But including all of them would make the list long and unwieldy and there is always a chance that one or two might be missed out. So, I stop with these names.
Last but not the least I need to thank my family, for letting me devote time that rightfully should have been theirs to the writing of this book, and most especially my wife, for her constant encouragement and support throughout the process of my writing this book.