The cobra raised its hood. Its forked tongue flickered in and out. It swayed gently, turning its hood this way and that, tasting the air.
“Mother,” said Tara. “Is that you?”
The cobra whipped round and looked straight at her. It hissed.
A cold chill trickled down Tara’s spine; if this was a real cobra, she should be running in the opposite direction, not trying to talk to it.
Leaves rustled behind her and Tara’s pulse raced. She had to use every ounce of discipline to avoid any sudden moves. She turned her head slowly to see if it was just another animal searching for dinner, or the cobra’s mate.
The cobra tasted the air again and then dived at Tara’s feet, a blur of silvery-black. She screamed and jumped aside, her heart thundering in her chest. But the cobra had no interest in her. It was after the animal she had heard rooting in the undergrowth; a large mongoose.
The mongoose grunted at the cobra as they circled one another. In spite of her fear, Tara watched, fascinated, as age-old enemies thrust and parried skillfully, each with their own particular strengths. The mongoose was larger and heavier of the two, but the cobra was smart and supple.
On and on the fight went as they grappled with each other. At times it seemed the cobra didn’t have a chance. But then the tables would turn and the snake would have the upper hand. And suddenly, before Tara even realized what was happening, the cobra sank its fangs into the mongoose’s neck. It gave a high-pitched shriek, twitched, and lay still. The fight was over. The cobra, in spite of being smaller, had won.
Tara realized she had stuffed her knuckles into her mouth and had been gnawing on them. She wiped her hands on her kurta and looked around. Too much time had passed. Lord Yama was not coming. Whatever plan she came up with, she would have to do it on her own.
The cobra uncoiled itself from around the mongoose and slipped away. Somehow, watching it gave her hope. Layla may be formidable, but she, Tara, had the brains. She would figure out a way and win.
Tara looked at the conch. It was useless now and yet she couldn’t bear to throw it away. She turned to go when she heard muffled steps. Something heavy was approaching. She pressed her back against the trunk of a sal tree as the sound changed direction; first from the left, then the right, then from behind her. It seemed as if a drunken elephant were making its way toward her.
The thuds grew louder. Tara couldn’t stand it a moment longer. She sprinted toward the treeline and to the safety of Morni.
“You call me and then run away, Tara?” said a deep voice. “I didn’t expect that from you.”
Tara stopped, turned around. There was Lord Yama, astride his bull, his black mace slung over his shoulder. A faint glow emanated from his massive green frame so that, in spite of the darkness, she saw him clearly.
“You came,” said Tara. She rushed back and stood close, not daring to touch him or the bull. “You heard my call and came. Oh, thank you, Lord!”
“I knew that you wouldn’t call me unless you were in dire need,” said Lord Yama. “What is it, child?”
Now that he was here, Tara didn’t know where to start. “I … we … need your help, Lord Yama. We need you to take Layla away from the village.”
“Take?” said Lord Yama. His voice was like a whiplash. “What do you mean by take? There is only one way I can take anyone from earth and that is if they die. Surely you know that, Tara.”
Tara shivered, wondering if she had made the wrong decision by calling him. Once she spoke her mind, there was no going back. Would the god of death take kindly to being ordered around by a mere mortal, a child? Already it seemed as if he was mad at her.
“I know that, Lord,” said Tara. She knelt and pressed her palms together, hoping there were no more snakes lurking close by. “And that is why, I humbly request for you to … to kill Layla and take her away from here.”
The silence was so loud, it was deafening. Even the forest seemed to be holding its breath. Lord Yama glared at Tara and she gazed back at him, trying her hardest not to look away.
“Are you suggesting that I kill someone just to suit your convenience, Tara? Could you really be that naive?” he said in a terribly calm voice. “Or that selfish?”
“Lord Yama, please forgive me. If there were any other choice, I would not have called you. But Layla has become a terrible menace. She has been creating nothing but havoc and trouble for me —”
“Ahhh, I see,” he said. “Layla is being mean to poor Tara. She is unhappy and so she calls on the god of death to take away the problem. Is that it? I am very disappointed in you! Return my conch immediately. You will never summon me again.”
“No!” said Tara. “No, it’s not like that at all. It’s just that … please let me explain, Lord. You’re scaring me and I’m not able to think straight. It might also help if you stopped glaring at me.”
Tara wrung her hands, looking up at Lord Yama, wondering if she had gone too far. Suddenly, he threw his head back and laughed. “Tara, you haven’t lost your spirit, I can see that. It’s what makes you so endearing and allows you to get away with admonishing the Lord of Death, whom most mortals fear to set eyes upon.” He slid off the bull, rested his mace against a tree and sat on a rock. “Does this meet with your approval?” He said it very seriously but his eyes were smiling.
Tara sat at his feet and poured out the whole story, starting with Kali and Zarku and working her way up to Layla’s antics. When she fell silent, Lord Yama got to his feet and paced. The bull stood patiently to one side, flicking its tail now and then to drive away the incessant flies.
“Hmmmm,” said Lord Yama. He stopped, looked at Tara, and resumed pacing again. Under her, the forest floor trembled.
Tara followed him with her eyes, a million questions fighting to burst out of her mouth. But she held them in. First, Lord Yama had to decide whether he was going to help her or not. But he had to, she prayed silently. He must!
Finally Lord Yama sat on the stone once again. “Tara, I have given this a lot of thought. I understand your pain. There are people in this world who, like Layla, bring misery to all who know them. But Lord Brahma, the Creator, had a reason for putting them there and I cannot go against him, against nature, and take away their life without just cause. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“But, Lord, what if the person is really evil, and, through her actions, more lives are lost? Is it not right then to take one life and save countless others?”
“A very good argument, Tara, but I still cannot do what you ask of me. As I said, I can only take away the soul of a dead person. I cannot and will not kill them. I’m sorry but I cannot help you.”
Tara gazed at him, angry and disappointed. How could he talk of rules when this one child could destroy Morni? He had to help her and she knew what she had to do next. She had hoped she wouldn’t have to use that argument, but she had no choice.
“You promised to dispose of Zarku’s ashes, which my grandfather, Prabala, sealed in an urn,” said Tara. “How did it fall into Kali’s hands? Because of it, Zarku was able to come back. He almost killed my brother and we lost Rohan. You’re responsible for his death, Lord Yama.”
Deafening silence returned. Lord Yama sprang to his feet and towered over Tara, glaring at her. She met his gaze, trying not to flinch or look away. Whether he liked it or not, it was the truth!
“How dare you blame me!” said Lord Yama. The air around them crackled with anger. “Yes, I said I’d dispose of Zarku’s ashes, but one of my helpers slipped up. By the time he came to collect the urn, it was gone.”
“I’m not blaming you, Lord,” said Tara. “Merely pointing out the truth of the matter. If you cannot help me, then tell me who can. I have to stop Layla somehow, even if I have to kill her myself!”
“Be careful of what you say, Tara. Taking someone’s life is a serious matter, especially if that someone is a child! You will end up in the Underworld from where there is no escape. For eternity.”
�
�Then what am I supposed to do?” shrieked Tara. “Watch this child destroy my family? Morni? Everyone I love? There has to be something you can do to help me.”
Lord Yama’s expression softened. “There is one other way,” he said and gazed at her for a long moment. “But it’s very … no, forget it.” He shook his massive head. “I should never have mentioned it. I must go. There are many matters that await my attention. Good luck, Tara. These things have a way of sorting themselves out. Trust in the pattern that our Creator has laid out for each of us. All you need is patience.”
Tara jumped to her feet. “Please, Lord Yama. That’s what Mother says, but I just can’t sit around and do nothing. You have to tell me. Whatever it is, I can do it.”
Yama looked deep into her eyes; it seemed he was looking into her very soul. “I believe you, Tara, Your bravery is unsurpassed. I have yet to see a child as courageous as you. But … are you brave enough to face your own death?”
It felt as if someone had emptied a bucket of ice-cold water over her. “What-what did you say?” Tara was sure she had misheard him.
“Can you face your own death to save your family and your village?” said Yama watching her shrewdly.
“I don’t understand?”
“Well, like I said, there is a way,” said Yama. “I can take you to the one person who can tell you how to stop Layla; her mother Kali. But to do that I must take you to her — in the Underworld.”
“I’m not afraid of that. I’ll do it!” said Tara, though the thought of seeing Kali again made her break out in a cold sweat.
“I’ve no doubt you can do it,” said Yama. He sat down again and beckoned to Tara. She sat at his feet. “It’s what happens after.”
“What … happens after?” asked Tara, searching his face. She knew in her heart she would not like his answer.
“The rule is that once you go to the Underworld, you cannot come back to the world of the living. I will make an exception in your case and give you twenty-four hours on earth to take care of Layla. But then you must return with me. You will be dead to your family, but you will live the rest of your life in the Underworld, neither dead, nor alive.”
Tara sat very still as Lord Yama’s words went around and around in her head like a dog chasing its tail; you will live the rest of your life in the Underworld; neither dead, nor alive.
Neither dead, nor alive.
She stared at the ground for a long time, not really seeing it. All of the choices that faced her were incredibly hard. She didn’t want Layla’s death on her hands. The price of talking to Kali to stop her daughter was too heavy. And the last option was patience, which could prove fatal for her and her family. A heavy hand rested on her shoulder and she started.
“It’s a huge shock,” said Lord Yama. “I know. No one wants to die and especially not someone as young as you! I have taken many children kicking and screaming to the Underworld. Children who died unnatural deaths or those who were killed. They did not want to leave their parents. They wanted to remain in the same house forever. It’s one of the hardest parts of my job and a sad one.”
“Children who were killed?” said Tara. “Why do they need to be in the Underworld? It’s not their fault that they died young.”
“For a short time only,” said Lord Yama. “Until we determine the cause of death. Sometimes they die young because of the terrible sins they committed in their previous lives. Once it is determined that they are innocent, they are sent to a better, kinder place.”
Tara nodded, not really understanding. Her own death loomed large in her mind. “But why can’t I meet Kali in the Underworld and come back,” she said. “After all, I’m going there by choice, for the good of the people of Morni and —”
“Stop right there,” said Lord Yama in a firm voice. “I’ve told you the rules and you’ll just have to abide by them. There is no bargaining here.”
Around them, darkness was melting away and dawn was approaching. If she went with the Lord to talk to Kali, she would die. But life was already quite unbearable for her. She dreaded each new day, wondering what unpleasant surprises would spring forth from Layla’s sick, twisted mind.
“I have to go, Tara. Are you coming?”
“No.” The word flew from her lips unbidden. “No,” she repeated softly. “I have so much more I have to do here. How can I leave my family and just give up … I’m sorry, but no.” She stared up at Lord Yama, expecting to see anger or disapproval because of her weakness. Instead she saw sadness.
He patted her head. “Tara, I understand. It’s tough to think of dying at thirteen. But I respect your decision and your honesty. Best of luck with your fight against Layla.”
“You’re leaving?”
“You can’t have Death hanging around you all the time, Tara. You’ll get a bad reputation,” said Yama. He smiled, and, in spite of everything, Tara smiled, too.
“If I were to change my mind, can I call you?”
Yama looked stern again. “Tara, I have much work to do and many souls to take to the Underworld. I cannot be summoned on a whim. Do you understand?”
“Yes. I’m sorry.”
“I know you called me out of concern for your family and the villagers so I will say no more. You are a brave, unselfish girl and I will always admire you, but there is a limit to what I will tolerate.”
Tara took a deep breath and held out the conch to him. It was like giving up a part of her. What if she needed it again? Her hand shook and the conch, perched on her palm, jiggled. “Here, take it.” She blinked back tears. This was so hard.
Yama closed her fingers over the conch. “I will leave this with you, Tara. But it will work only one more time, so use it wisely. Call only when you truly need me.”
Tara clutched the shell to her breast. For now, the conch of death was with her and she felt an odd sense of relief.
“Good luck, Tara.”
“Thank you, Lord Yama.”
He patted her on the head, climbed onto his bull, and, before her eyes, faded into the morning mist shrouding the forest. She could hear the muffled clip-clopping of the bull’s hooves, though she could not see him. The earth trembled under her feet and then was still. He was gone.
Tara ran back toward the village, and home. She stopped at the edge of the treeline. The horizon was outlined in gold. The sight brought tears to her eyes. How close she had come to never seeing another sunrise.
She remembered the fight between the mongoose and the cobra. In spite of being mismatched, the snake had won.
And so would she.
— ten —
Fire!
Wisps of smoke were curling out the back door of their hut when Tara returned. She walked into the kitchen where Parvati and Shiv sat sharing a cup of tea.
“Where did you go?” they asked in unison. Worry had etched deep lines onto their faces. Tara wished she had returned before they awoke and spared them the anxiety.
“I-er —”
“Did you go to the temple again?” asked Shiv.
“Yes!” said Tara, silently begging forgiveness of Lords Ganesh and Yama for the lie. “I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to sit there for a while.”
Parvati patted a spot next to her. Tara sank to the ground gratefully, her mind in turmoil. Had she made the right decision in refusing to go with Lord Yama? What if that had been her only chance to stop Layla, apart from killing the girl herself?
Parvati put her arm around her daughter’s shoulders and Tara sagged against her, gazing at the familiar surroundings that always calmed her. Silver vessels and thalis gleamed on the shelves, the blackened clay stove they used every day was covered with bits of ash, the heavy mortar and pestle her mother used to pound spices stood in a corner next to the earthen pots of drinking water. The fragrance of milky tea, wood smoke, and dung cakes wrapped her in their warm embrace. She would have missed all of this if she had gone to the Underworld.
And if she had left without telling her parents, they would have
gone out of their minds with worry. No, she had made the right decision. There had to be another way to stop Layla and she would find it.
“Your father is leaving shortly,” said Parvati. “It’s a good thing you’re up early; at least you’ll get to bid him farewell.” She busied herself packing some chappatis and leftover vegetables along with a small bottle of precious water and a couple of guava fruits.
“When will you be back, Father?”
“When I have found Prabala,” he replied. “And, God willing, I’ll find him soon.” He gulped the last of his tea, tied a long red cloth into a turban around his head, and stood up.
They walked out the back door and into the courtyard. The sky was a rosy pink and birds trilled cheerfully. Tara wished they would shut up.
Parvati handed the bundle of food to Shiv. “May God be with you. Be careful and come back soon.”
Tara flung her arms around her father and hugged him tight. She wanted him to carry the memory of her smiling face on his journey. But it was hard; tears swarmed her eyes and bubbled up inside her throat.
For these last two years, their life as a family had been doomed. First her mother and grandfather had left Morni to avoid the taunts of the villagers. Her mother had barely returned when Zarku had kidnapped Suraj. A hard-won fight had brought them together only to have her father leave again. Was this ever going to end? Would they ever live as a family for longer than a few days?
Yes, said the voice within her that she had come to trust. Have faith and you will all be together again. As Tara waved goodbye, she couldn’t help wonder if it was the voice of reason or merely her deepest hope.
“Why has Shiv gone looking for Prabala?” asked Ananth. He picked up a moss-covered stone and chucked it into the undergrowth. It landed far away with a thump and crackle of leaves.
The Deadly Conch Page 8