Tamarind and the Star of Ishta

by Jasbinder Bilan

  I keep thinking about what’s just happened. I’m not sure why Sufia was so mean to me, but it’s something to do with my dad. It was odd the way Aunt Simran wasn’t exactly friendly to Dad at the airport, but nobody apart from Sufia is saying anything and I don’t know why they’re so angry with him. There are so many unanswered questions and I don’t know who to ask.

  The door opens a crack and I wonder if maybe it’s Sufia come to have a proper go at me, face to face . . . or is it something much more dangerous? There’s a piercing scream, like the one I heard when I arrived but closer this time, and I remember Arjun saying bigger animals can descend here from the mountains. I jump up, shrink back from the door, into the corner of the bed. This time, the scream was loud and very close. My body begins to tremble. It could be a wild Himalayan tiger out hunting its prey. I glance around the hut but there’s nowhere for me to run so I throw the covers over my head and curl into a tiny ball.

  My heart pounds frantically as the door creaks a bit more and weird spooky shapes project across the light filtering through the blanket. The door flings open and footsteps pad closer. The bed dips down beside me. Whatever it is, it’s right next to me now. My heart is racing . . . and then – weirdly – it’s pulling the blanket from over my head. I blink.

  It’s a monkey! It’s only a monkey! That’s what has been screaming in the garden all this time. Relief floods me and I examine the creature more closely. He’s covered in honey-coloured fur, parts of it turning grey. He reaches out and strokes my hair and I’m not sure what to do so I sit there stiffly. He takes my face in his smooth palms and gives me a sorrowful look with his huge dark eyes.

  He hobbles off the bed and disappears underneath it. I’ve never been this close to a monkey – I’ve only ever seen them behind plastic screens at the zoo – and I’m feeling a bit nervous, but after everything that’s happened I wouldn’t mind making friends with him.

  I lie flat on the floor, press myself into the smooth floorboards and try to entice him out. Two bright eyes blink at me in the darkness.

  I push my arm under the bed. ‘Here, little fella,’ I say, pretending I’ve got something tasty in my hand. ‘Come on, I won’t bite.’ It would be so nice to stroke his soft fur.

  He stays under the bed and won’t come out, so I wriggle under as well. ‘Come on, you silly monkey.’ He’s right up against the wall, so I push on my elbows, moving closer to him.

  Even though it’s dark down here I can see that the monkey is pulling on a loose floorboard. He wedges his fingers under a section and yanks at it. Then he scuttles to one side, tugging at my sleeve.

  I strain my eyes, peering into the gap where the piece of floorboard has been removed, but it’s no good, it’s just too dark. I shuffle backwards, brushing the floor with my stomach. If I can get the candle off the holder I’ll be able to shine the light down there and see what it is.

  The monkey climbs on to the bed and watches me as I wiggle the candle free, clapping his hands.

  Back on my stomach, I push the candle ahead of me until it’s just on the edge of the gap, and shift the floorboard to get a better look. The monkey crouches beside me, peering underneath too. I can make out a box inside the space under the floor and dip my hand in. I’m just about to lift it out when I hear footsteps outside and I quickly drop it back into the gap.

  I squeeze out from under the bed and can’t see the monkey anywhere. I dart my eyes towards the open door and spot the very end of a long honey-coloured tail and what looks like a trail of sparkling gold dust following it.

  Gold dust? I feel a twitch tickle up my spine and I’m frozen to the spot. I’m probably just imagining things: the candlelight casts a strange glow in here.

  The door opens and it’s Arjun. He’s out of breath; he clearly ran here. ‘What are you doing?’ he yells. ‘I told you we’re not allowed in the hut.’

  ‘But why not? This was where my mum used to come and play, isn’t it?’

  Arjun shifts around, looks away towards the open door.

  ‘I know it is,’ I say, more sharply than I meant to. ‘I’ve seen where she scratched her name on the headboard. Why won’t anyone speak about my mum? Why would Nani be upset? Why shouldn’t I be here?’ I’m desperate now and step towards him. ‘Please, Arjun, tell me.’

  His cheeks turn red. ‘My babajee built the hut for my dad and your mum when they were little, and now everyone is banned. I don’t know why. I get that you want to find out about your mum, but stop asking me. I’m not the one who knows.’

  I lean against the wall and try to calm down. ‘Y . . . you won’t tell them I was here, will you?’

  ‘No, I won’t tell. Promise. And Sufia has been grounded.’

  My throat is dry and my voice comes out all croaky. ‘Thank you.’

  I don’t know if I should tell Arjun about the box under the floorboards or about the monkey. I decide not to. He was upset enough that I was here – he won’t like it if he knows I was poking around. Maybe he’d tell the rest of the family. Arjun seems nice, but I haven’t known him long – he’s not exactly my friend.

  If I can find a torch in the house I’ll come back later, I decide, at night when everyone’s asleep.

  I squint at my watch under the darkness of my bedcovers. The electric-blue numbers read just past midnight and I begin to creep out of bed. I know it’s out of bounds but I don’t care. I slept like the dead last night – jet lag catching me up, I suppose – and a whole day has gone by, just trying so hard to be polite to everyone, and out with Arjun kicking a ball round the garden again, while Sufia seems to be doing her best to avoid me or throws hate-eyes my way. Every now and then I catch a faint glimpse of a golden tail too. So I’m extra-determined to go back to the hut tonight and find out what’s under that floorboard.

  I grab the torch I found in the side-table drawer, lace up my black trainers with a blue tick along the side, and click open the door to the landing. Everything is quiet, the glow from the lamps in the hallway spinning black shadows up the walls.

  I shoot a swift glance upwards, to the next flight of stairs where Sufia’s sleeping, swallow my nerves and hurry down.

  My heart stammers. What would they say if they caught me out of bed so late? Shining the torch ahead of me, I tiptoe along the cold floor of the hallway. As quickly as I can, I find my way out through the dining room, on to the verandah. A flame of excitement burning my chest, I rush down the wooden steps, brushing past the poppies shifting in the wind and enter the beckoning coolness of the garden.

  The darkness takes me by surprise. I’m used to streetlights, not this overwhelming sky with its trillions of stars. The torch hardly seems to make a difference as I pick my way along the wet lawn, zigzagging towards the hut.

  A dank, earthy smell rises through the gloom as I wade through the too tall grass and can’t help imagining something stalking me, a wild bear about to pounce through the darkness, claws sharpened ready to grab me from behind. A far-off howling noise makes my blood pump harder, faster.

  It’s different from the screaming sound I’ve been hearing, that I now know is from the monkey. No: this sounds like wolves. I think back to what Arjun told me, that they sometimes venture down into the garden. And I’m pretty sure they can eat people. Maybe I should turn back!

  I glance over my shoulder, but the house is too far away now. I gather my courage, tell myself not to be such a coward and keep stepping into the halo of weak light cast by the torch. Tramping through the final nettles, I raise my hands high to avoid their sting and remember the rock that tripped me up last time, and find it with the light.

  As I step through the copse lit white by the moon, I know I’m nearly there, but keep my breath squashed tight, my fists wrapped hard around the torch, and search for the key in the ground where I found it before and hid it after I left.

  Once inside, everything is just as before, spookily quiet. I collapse on to my stomach, pointing the torch under the bed, and wriggle towards the gap in the
floorboards. Balancing the torch on the floor beside me, I gently lift the box out and push it to where I can take a better look.

  It’s only a long cardboard box, but it’s been covered in pretty paper and across the top there are cut-out letters that read: Chinty’s Secret Box . . . And underneath, in red pen: keep out!!!!

  My heart pounds as I open the lid. Surely Mum wouldn’t mind me looking into her secret box?

  The first thing I see inside is an arrow. I lift it out and examine it. The tip is made from a beaten piece of metal and the wooden shaft is painted gold, the white feather fletching on the end covered in gold glitter. It has a home-made look to it. There’s a small box of face paints in there too. I open the lid and sniff them, wet my finger on my tongue and prod it into the silver block. Although it’s dried out, I still feel the gritty paint on my fingertip, imagine Mum dressing up, decorating her face with this same paint. I smear it across my cheeks and smile.

  The final thing is a small blue box right in the corner. I open it carefully, slowly, instinctively knowing that whatever is inside must be really special. There’s folded red tissue paper inside, and when I unwrap it I discover the most beautiful ring. I hold it carefully between my shaking fingers and look at it closely. In its centre is a bright green stone, about the size of a five-pence piece, surrounded by a silver eight-pointed star.

  Bubbles of excitement make my heart beat faster. At last I’ve got something of Mum’s, something precious, special. I feel so close to her, as if she’s right here beside me in this hut: it’s the strangest, warmest feeling.

  The stone is crafted like a proper jewel with small chips carved into it. When I shine the torch on it, each intricate face glitters. When I slip it on to my middle finger it fits perfectly. I hold it up to the window and the ring glows, sending a beam of light into the room as the starlight hits it. I gasp, remembering the trail of gold dust that followed the monkey, and feel a little light-headed, just like I did before. I blink. It’s not surprising I’m seeing and hearing things, I’ve not eaten very much since I got here and the time difference is confusing me. I’m sure it’s just jet lag. Sure enough, as I move the ring away from the window, the glow fades. There’s that voice again . . . far off somewhere, singing through the trees . . .

  Tamarind.

  Why do I keep hearing it – or am I just imagining it?

  I hear footsteps smacking against the grass outside and freeze. Who else can be awake at this time? I hurriedly shove everything back in the box and manage to push it under the bed, but keep the ring on my finger, clasping my hands tightly behind my back.

  The door cracks open, startling me. It’s Sufia.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she says, sounding as surprised as me.

  ‘Nothing . . . I mean, I couldn’t sleep and came to get some fresh air.’

  ‘No one’s allowed in here, you know . . . especially you.’ She narrows her eyes into slits. ‘If Nanijee knew you’d been in here without her permission, she’d go nuts.’

  I wonder if I should say that Arjun had been here yesterday as well, but I guess that’s not going to make a difference and would probably get him into all sorts of trouble.

  Wearing Mum’s ring is making me braver and I stand tall. ‘You come here though, don’t you? Someone’s been taking care of this place, even though it’s forbidden.’

  ‘That’s none of your business,’ she says, shifting closer. ‘Anyway . . . why are you snooping around?’

  ‘I’m n-not snooping.’ My throat feels dry and my voice comes out in a squeak.

  ‘I’d say coming into someone else’s house and then prying where you shouldn’t be is definitely snooping and I’ve been grounded because of you.’

  ‘It’s not my fault.’

  ‘Well, I’d say it definitely is your fault. There isn’t anyone else you can blame it on, is there?’ She’s glaring at me, and even in this dim light I can see she’s really angry. ‘And the sooner you’re gone the better!’ She spits the words out like the worst taste ever. ‘What’s that behind your back?’ Sufia circles me, as if she’s a wolf stalking a wounded animal. I snap my hands to the front, folding them across my chest, hiding the ring. She’s way taller than me and peers down. I try to hold myself tall but my stomach clenches as she faces me and yanks my hands out.

  She stares at my finger, at the ring. ‘What’s that?’ Before I have time to react or stop her, she grabs my hand and forces the ring off my finger, holding it high above her head. ‘It’s Auntie Chinty’s ring,’ she says, her eyes widening, as if she’s speaking to herself. ‘The one from the old photos – she wore it everywhere when she was young.’ She clenches her jaw harder. ‘Where did you get it?’

  It’s as if wearing the ring has woken something inside me, a power I didn’t know I had. I feel stronger than before. Just when I think I’m about to crumble to dust, my spirit rises like a mythological bird spreading its wings. ‘Don’t shout at me,’ I say, in a quiet, determined voice. ‘I have every bit of right to be here as you do.’ I try to keep my voice from quivering. ‘Everyone has welcomed me, apart from you, but it doesn’t matter. I was born here and it’s my home too . . . my mum would have wanted me to see it, I know she would.’ I falter, swallowing to control myself. ‘And she would have wanted me to have her ring – so give it back.’ I hold out my hand.

  Sufia is silent, but her cheeks are red and strangely she looks like she might cry. ‘No.’ She clutches it tightly, holding it firmly to her chest.

  Without thinking, I launch into her, snatching at it, trying to prise it away. But she lifts it even higher. ‘Can’t get it now, can you?’ She glares at me, her eyes sparkling with fury. ‘You don’t know the first thing about your mum and you never will.’

  Sufia slips the ring into her pocket and grabs me by the shoulders. Her fingernails pinch my skin as she shoves me out of the hut.

  I storm away from the hut, Sufia’s words slicing into me like a knife, but I won’t look round. I just keep walking straight ahead, shoulders back. Tears spill down my cheeks and fall in huge drops to the ground. She’s right: I don’t know anything about my mum and just when I’d found something that belonged to her, something special, that’s been snatched away from me too.

  I wipe away my tears as I reach the house – but when I gaze up at the verandah and my bedroom window, I suddenly don’t want to go inside. Instead, I raise my eyes to the stars and try to hold on to the feeling I had when I wore Mum’s ring, like a spark of knowledge that it was all meant to be, that I was meant to come here, that I belong.

  A thought keeps prickling the back of my mind and it won’t go away. What if the beam of light from the ring was leading me somewhere? It was so strong and so bright when I held it up to the window – brighter than a torch beam. What if it’s not all just tiredness and jet lag? What if there really is something like magic in this place? If Sufia hadn’t interrupted me I would have found out more . . . but now she’s taken it.

  Thoughts whirlpool around my mind and I know there’s no way I could fall asleep. I sit on the damp lawn and listen to the night sounds of the garden – insects clicking and whirring, leaves rustling, owls hooting. After a while, I hear a familiar screaming noise behind me – quite near.

  I sit up, my eyes widening as I notice a monkey sitting on the grass nearby. It’s definitely the strange golden monkey I saw in the hut before: I can tell by the silver in his fur. When he moves, shifting closer towards me, it’s like he’s got a halo of gold dust all around him, his fur standing out against the darkness of the night. I really didn’t imagine it before.

  He stands and leaps away through the garden, towards the wild bit, before hesitating, glancing back at me. He wants me to follow him.

  But how can I go, after what Arjun said about the dangers lurking out here? I gaze at the indigo night beyond the lawn, worry churning my stomach at what could be hidden there.

  The monkey runs back to me and impatiently opens his mouth to make that awful screami
ng noise.

  ‘Shhh,’ I whisper, glancing up at the house, and he stops. Does he really understand me?

  I zip my warm jumper up to the top, glad I thought to wear it earlier, and keep my hand clasped around the torch in the pocket. Suddenly I don’t care about the danger: I need answers and I know I won’t find them unless I follow him.

  The monkey takes my hand and leads me past the hut – where I step quietly, afraid of attracting Sufia’s attention – deeper and deeper into the wild garden. Where is he taking me? Suddenly he drops my hand, gives one of his high-pitched screams and sprints ahead.

  ‘Wait, come back! Don’t leave me in the dark,’ I hiss. I run after him, chasing through the high grass. I shine the torch into the dark, trying to catch a glimpse of the monkey’s gold fur – I see him! I run faster, my breath ragged, feet pounding the ground. It feels good – clean air burning my lungs. I want the smoky blue night to swallow me whole.

  I keep going, further away from the hut and the house, stumbling into brambles sharp with thorns that tear at my skin. Suddenly running doesn’t feel so good any more. How big are these gardens? They seem to go on for ever.

  Picking through the patch of brambles forces me to slow down and I pause to catch my breath. Sufia’s probably trying on Mum’s ring – I imagine it now, swallowing the lump in my throat. Tomorrow, I’m determined I’ll get the ring back.

  The wind shakes the leaves of the trees and they rustle as if they’re breathing secrets. I peer ahead, trying to work out which way the monkey went, and shine the torch into a blanket of ghostly mist, which drops around me like a cloak. I trip forwards, arms straight ahead trying to feel for something to anchor me, but there’s nothing to grab hold of. The ground feels soft, almost wet, and my feet squelch and slip below me.