The Deadly Conch

by Mahtab Narsimhan

  For the first time, it dawned on Tara that it was only that little bit of red powder that kept them on the respectable side of the fence. If they had the misfortune of losing their husbands, they would cross over to the “widow’s side” and life as they knew it would end. The least they could do was love and support one of their own.

  “Throw her out of the village,” said a voice that made Tara’s pulse race. “Just like you threw my mother out.”

  Layla pushed through the crowds and stood in front of Raka.

  Tara’s guts twisted into a painful knot. “Don’t you dare compare Gayatri-ma to your evil mother, Layla,” she said. “Your mother deliberately hurt others and enjoyed it. She should never have been born. I’m happy she’s gone forever!”

  Layla stared at her and Tara took a step back, shocked at the venom in the eyes of a child barely nine years old. Layla was the same age as Suraj and yet she looked years older. And capable of causing a lot of harm.

  “That’s enough, you two,” said Gayatri in a surprisingly firm voice. “This is all because of me. I’m sorry to have spoiled your evening, Tara. I’ll go.”

  “I’ll go with you,” said Ananth. He threw a last look at Tara and turned away. Tara’s heart ached. Why was he angry with her? She’d tried to talk to Rakaji, but it hadn’t worked. Did he not see that? She wanted to say something more, but the words had dried up under Ananth’s angry gaze.

  Once again, the crowd parted. Tara watched Ananth’s stiff back and made up her mind to talk to him as soon as she could. She hated these silly traditions, too! Within seconds, Gayatri and Ananth melted away into the shadows beyond the circle of revellers.

  Raka spoke again. “The food’s getting cold. Let’s eat and rejoice.”

  Instantly, Gayatri was forgotten as chatter and laughter swept through the crowds again. They all made their way toward the large, steaming pots of food prepared by the women of Morni. Banana leaves had been laid out on the ground in rows and the men and children sat crosslegged before each leaf-plate, waiting to be served.

  Tara had been hungry earlier, but witnessing Gayatri-ma’s humiliation had caused her to lose her appetite. Vayu, Kabir, and Raani were already sitting, awaiting their meal. Vayu’s eyes were fixed on a woman coming down the line with a basket of pooris.

  “Aren’t you joining us, Tara?” asked Raani. She patted a spot beside her. “We have to eat and then head back home. We’ll have to start out as soon as possible.”

  Tara shook her head. “You all eat, I’ll be back soon with Ananth.”

  Tara hurried down the line toward the woman with the pooris.

  “Want one, Tara?” said the woman. “They’re hot and fresh.”

  Up close, the fragrance of the fried bread tickled her nose and her stomach growled again.

  “Yes, please,” said Tara.

  The woman picked out the biggest golden orb and handed it to her. Tara thanked her and hurried on, munching on the poori while searching for Ananth.

  Something warm brushed against Tara’s leg. A stray dog was looking up at her, his enormous eyes riveted to the food in her hand. He whined and wagged his stump of a tail.

  “I’m hungry, too,” said Tara taking another large bite of the fried bread.“You’ll just have to wait till the feast is over. I’m sure there’ll be lots of leftovers. You’ll eat like a king tonight.”

  “Oi, Tara,” a women called out. “Don’t feed that stray. They’re getting to be too much of a nuisance.”

  Tara looked down at the dog again. His tail fanned the air vigorously and his eyes pleaded silently. She backed away. He limped toward her, uttering small pitiful squeaks. Large patches of brown fur were missing and the outline of his ribs was clearly visible, like a serrated bowl covered with skin. Tara couldn’t resist him anymore. She broke the poori in half and held it out. The dog lunged forward and snatched the food from her hand, his teeth grazing her knuckles.

  “Owww,” she said, glaring at the stray and rubbing her hand. “You sure have that pitiful performance down pat until you get the food!”

  In reply, the dog jumped again, surprisingly high, and snatched the other half from Tara’s hand and swallowed it.

  “You mangy thief!” Tara swiped at the dog, but it backed away.

  She heard laughter from a few onlookers who had witnessed the scene.

  “Told you not to feed him,” the woman said before moving away. “Rakaji is going to have all the strays rounded up and put to sleep. They’re hungry and getting very aggressive. He’s afraid they might bite a child.”

  Tara looked at the dog, who now sat licking his injured paw, the food long gone. She was mad at him. But it was not his fault that he did not have a loving home. Putting the strays to sleep would be a mean thing to do. Killing anything, for that matter, would be wrong. How could you take something that you were unable to return? Especially a life.

  But you’ve taken two lives, said a small voice within her. You killed Zarku and Kali.

  That was different, she told herself. They were inhuman monsters. The last few moments in the cave flashed through her mind once again; Kali’s screams as she had hurtled to her death. She clapped her hands over her ears. Would she ever be able to forget? Would time ever dim this ghastly image? Everyone thought she was a hero; they envied her, but they had no idea about the terrible nightmares she had. The memories she had to struggle hard to forget, lest they overwhelm her.

  “You’re happy that my mother is dead,” a voice whispered in her ear. “Isn’t that what you said?”

  Tara’s skin crawled. She did not even have to turn around; she knew who it was. A voice that oozed such hatred could only belong to one person. She stood still for a moment, wishing Layla would go away.

  Layla grabbed Tara’s shoulder and spun her around. Her black eyes glittered as she held Tara’s gaze. “Watch your back, dear sister. I’ll make sure you suffer horribly for what you did to my mother. That’s a promise.”

  — two —

  The Temple is Defiled

  Tara was trapped!

  Kali blocked one side and Zarku, the other. Both were aflame. Arms outstretched, they advanced slowly and deliberately. It was utterly dark in the forest and the only light came from their blazing bodies. Tara whirled around, tensing for the sprint to safety. Too late. Layla stood right behind her. She seemed even more massive than usual, moving with surprising speed. The trio moved in on her, closer and closer. Heat fanned her face; the smell of searing flesh poisoned the air. Kali reached out, her burning fingertips inches away from Tara’s face. Any moment she’d go up in flames, too.

  “I’ll make you suffer,” hissed Layla. “You. Will. Suffer.” And then she enveloped Tara in a bear hug.

  Tara screamed. She sat up on her cot, soaked in sweat, the thin sheet wrapped around her body like a python. The courtyard was silent except for the pounding of her heart. Above her, stars twinkled weakly in the fading night. Suraj lay on his own cot, undisturbed by Tara’s yell.

  Tara heard the echo of her scream, very faint this time. Had someone really screamed, or was the sound inside her head? She hugged her trembling body, breathing deeply.

  “Tara, what’s the matter?” Parvati stood framed in the doorway, a lantern in hand. “Are you all right?”

  “I-I … uh … had a bad dream,” said Tara finally. She could barely think of the words let alone speak.

  “Do you want to sleep inside?”

  “No, Mother. It’s too hot. I’ll stay out here.”

  “All right,” said Parvati. She came over and kissed Tara’s forehead. “You’re safe now. You have nothing to worry about.” Parvati adjusted the sheet over Suraj. With one last look at Tara she went back inside.

  Tara lay back and gazed at the sky. She breathed in the night air tinged with heat and the earthy smell of manure from Bela’s stall. She was at home with family! She had nothing to worry about except Layla. Tara repeated this over and over again, but it gave no comfort at all.

 
Her mind returned to her dream and she shuddered. Not one, but three of the most evil people she had ever known were haunting her. But two of them were gone forever. Or were they? She pushed the thought out of her head and focused on something else that nagged at her. The second scream? Now that she thought about it, she was sure it wasn’t in her head. Who had it been?

  “Psssst.” The sound came from behind the low wall which circled their courtyard at the back of the house.

  Tara sat up, straining to see who it was. A snake? An intruder? Layla? Her heart slammed against her ribcage.

  “Psssssssssssssst.” She heard it again. More insistent this time. And then someone whispered. “Tara, it’s me.”

  Gayatri-ma! Tara jumped off the cot and raced barefoot to the edge of the courtyard. She opened the rickety wooden door as quietly as she could and peered out.

  There stood Gayatri, a ghostly apparition in her white saree. Her eyes had a hunted look. In one hand she clutched a pooja-thali. The other fluttered at her throat like a trapped bird.

  “Is everything all right?” asked Tara. “Ananth? Is he —”

  “You have to come with me, now!” Gayatri-ma’s voice trembled. “Quick, wear your mojris and follow me.”

  Tara raced back to the cot. She slipped her feet into the mojris, taking care to shake them out first. Scorpions, spiders, even tiny snakes were known to crawl into shoes during the night and bite the toes of a person foolish enough to slip her foot inside before checking.

  Tara’s head whirled with a million questions, making her dizzy. Whatever it was, it must be serious. The usually serene Gayatri was definitely rattled. But what or who could have scared her so much?

  Tara looked around for the gold and green dupatta she had curled up with that night, but it was nowhere to be seen. She was tempted to run inside the house and get another. Leaving without it made her feel as if she was half-clad.

  “Hurry, Tara!” whispered Gayatri-ma from the doorway. “Before the sun rises and the rest of the villagers awake. We have to go now.”

  Tara heard the deadly fear in Gayatri-ma’s voice and decided to skip the dupatta. Hopefully she’d be back before any of the village gossips awoke and accused her of running around improperly attired. Now that she was thirteen she was considered to be a young woman and expected to act her age and dress accordingly.

  “Where are we going?” said Tara. Gayatri had set off down the road at a fast clip, darting fearful looks around her. It was just before dawn and no one was about.

  “Ganesh temple,” said Gayatri. A hare streaked past them suddenly and they both stopped in the middle of the road, watching it go. A faint breeze lifted the edge of the saree that always covered Gayatri-ma’s face and the full moon shone on it. Tara gaped at her. She looked so young, so beautiful. Somehow, it seemed like she was looking at Ananth’s mother for the first time. In spite of the urgency of the moment, Tara couldn’t help the sadness that filled her at the thought of Gayatri-ma’s joyless existence.

  “Did you go to the Ganesh Temple last night?” said Gayatri suddenly.

  Tara jerked out of her reverie. “No.”

  “Are you sure? You better tell me the truth!”

  “I am telling the truth!” said Tara. “I had no reason to go anywhere. I was so tired, I didn’t even change before falling asleep. I woke up screaming because of a bad dream and then I think … I think I heard another scream. But I’m sure I must have imagined it.”

  Gayatri swallowed and shook her head. “That was me. And we’re very, very lucky that no one else heard the scream. We better hurry. There’s something you need to see.”

  They hurried in silence toward the Ganesh Temple.

  Around them, the sky was turning into a slab of pale pink shot through with ribbons of darkness. Birds chirped overhead, their piping and trilling growing stronger by the minute. Gayatri hurried on, panting for breath, and Tara followed, her stomach queasy.

  The temple steps came into view.

  “Come on,” said Gayatri. “There’s no time to lose.”

  They ran up the steps. Gayatri-ma had to stop and hold a stitch in her side, but she wouldn’t let Tara go on ahead. Tara’s curiosity was a large balloon inside her, threatening to explode. What was it that Gayatri-ma had seen early in the morning? And why was she taking a risk by hanging around? Widows were supposed to complete their visit to the temple and go back home before anyone else woke up. The villagers considered it very unlucky to see a widow first thing in the morning.

  They reached the doors of the temple, gasping for breath. Tara had always loved coming here. Often, she would sit at the feet of Lord Ganesh and pray. And it was here that she had first met Mushika, the Lord’s companion, when she had rescued him from the cat. This was always a happy place for her and instantly she felt a little calmer. Nothing bad could happen in the house of God.

  “Come on, Gayatri-ma. Tell me what’s happened,” said Tara. “Surely it can’t be that bad?”

  “Go inside and see for yourself.” Gayatri’s face was very pale. She was watching Tara the way a hawk watches its dinner.

  Tara stepped inside the small room. The oil lamps that normally burned at the feet of the deity had gone out. The room was quite dark.

  The first thing that hit her was the smell. It reminded her of the underground cave, of Kali and Zarku. It was so overpowering that Tara’s stomach heaved.

  It was the smell of death.

  It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dimness.

  There was something on the floor that shouldn’t have been there. A shadowy lump and a splash of colour. Bright red. Tara stared at it, uncomprehending.

  A rosy finger of dawn light stole in through a window and pointed to the floor, illuminating the scene.

  Tara clapped her hands to her mouth as bile shot up her throat. She shuddered, tears pricking the backs of her eyes. Her stomach was a tight knot. She had to get out, get out now! She couldn’t bear to look at it anymore.

  Tara whirled around and found her way barred. Gayatri stood there, her face whiter than her saree. “So you didn’t do this?” she asked.

  Tara shook her head. If she opened her mouth she knew she’d vomit.

  “Tara, you can tell me the truth,” said Gayatri softly.

  “Whatever it is, I am here to help you. Ananth and I owe you a debt. If it hadn’t been for you and your family, neither of us would be alive today. You’ve been under a lot of pressure, lately, so I can understand if …”

  Tara pushed Gayatri aside and stepped over the threshold, gulping in the clean air. Her nausea subsided temporarily, only to be replaced by a throbbing anger.

  “How can you even say that, Gayatri-ma? Do you really think … I’m capable of … that?” The world spun around her and she held her head in her hands until it subsided.

  “Look again and you’ll see why I’m asking you this question. Why I brought you here.”

  ‘I can’t go back in there,” said Tara. “Please don’t make me.”

  “Tara, you have to. Take a proper look, but hurry. Punditji will be here soon to prepare for the day’s pooja. We have to clear this mess before someone finds it.”

  Tara balled her hands into fists, took a deep breath, and went back inside. There on the floor lay the stray dog she had fed the previous evening. Someone had hacked his neck and it was almost severed from his body. It lay in a pool of blood, thick and viscous. Flies buzzed over the body greedily. The dog’s eyes were open. He stared straight at Tara accusingly.

  Tears dripped down her face. Who could have done something this terrible? In a temple? Automatically she reached for the edge of her dupatta to wipe her eyes. Her fingers closed on thin air and she remembered she wasn’t wearing one. She wiped her face on her sleeve instead.

  “It’s over there,” said Gayatri, still watching Tara. “But you’ll never be able to use it again.”

  “What?” said Tara. She wiped another tear on her sleeve.

  “Your dupatta,” sai
d Gayatri. She pointed at the dead animal.

  Tara noticed it then. Her gold and green dupatta was pinned under the dog’s body and soaked in blood.

  “Now you know why I came to get you?” said Gayatri softly. “This is what you were wearing yesterday, isn’t it?”

  All the words inside Tara dried up. She pushed past the older woman, raced outside once again and retched. How had her dupatta gotten here? And what would happen if someone found it? She stopped mid-retch, ice creeping through her veins in spite of the warmth that held the promise of another hot day. The sun had already started to paint the bottom of the temple steps in gold.

  “I didn’t do it!” said Tara. “You have to believe me.”

  “I do,” said Gayatri. “But will anyone else? Your dupatta is proof that you were somehow involved.”

  “But I just saved the villagers from Zarku. They believe I’m a hero. And everyone knows I hate killing anything. How could I do something like this in my own temple? No, we’ll just go and tell them it has to be someone else. No one could believe I did this.”

  “Tara, long ago I realized that superstition and fear are stronger than reason, stronger than anything else. If Punditji finds this inside his temple, it will not take him long to condemn you, too. You’ll go from hero to zero in seconds.”

  Tara looked into Gayatri-ma’s eyes, which held a world of truth and pain. Here was a living example of how blind superstition could be. Tara didn’t stand a chance.

  “Then we have to get rid of it!” said Tara, unable to suppress the panic in her voice. “Now. Please help me, Gayatri-ma.”

  “Why do you think I came to get you?”

  “We need a sack or something to put the body in,” said Tara. “And my dupatta. I don’t think I can bear to look at it ever again.”

  “I’ll go get one,” said Gayatri. “You try and pull the body to the back of the temple so at least no one will see it when they walk in. We also have to clean up the … mess. Hurry!”