She kissed his forehead as gently as she could. Suraj moaned in his sleep, his hands clutching at the bedclothes.
Tara shuffled over to Parvati’s bedside. She was asleep, too. The cut on her head was bandaged, a rose of blood blossoming in its centre. Her clothes were stained with red.
Someone in the village had played Holi with them, using their own blood instead of coloured powder.
Tara hobbled toward the kitchen, glancing at Suraj as she passed. He twitched convulsively, and then lay still. She couldn’t bear to look at him anymore and returned to the kitchen as fast as her wobbly legs would carry her.
Tara collapsed on the bed and curled into a tight ball, fighting the urge to vomit. The villagers knew Shiv and Prabala were both away, so someone had decided to act now and rid Morni of its bad luck. She and her family had almost died. But who could have done this? Layla? Or had she put someone else up to it?
“Tara, eat this medicine.”Ananth knelt beside her and held out a steel glass. Tiny white balls lay in the palm of his hand.
“Ananth! Did you see what they did?” said Tara. “They tried to kill us! While we were alone and helpless, they tried to get rid of us … the cowards!” Huge sobs shook her as she tried to get the words out. It hurt to speak, but it hurt even more to keep it bottled up inside.
Ananth’s face twisted with pain. He set the glass down on the floor and hugged her. “I’m so very sorry about this, Tara. But you really need to rest now. We’ll get to the bottom of this, I promise. But you must sleep. Take these pills. The vaid left them.”
“No!” said Tara. “I need to talk to Rakaji now. I want an explanation. How could our hut catch fire? Why did no other hut burn down? Why didn’t anyone come to help us? WHO DID THIS?”
“Shhhh, Tara. Just calm down and take this medicine. For my sake, please?” said Ananth holding his hand out again. “We’ll … we’ll figure it out together. Anyway, it’s very early in the morning and everyone is still asleep.”
Tara stared into Ananth’s eyes, which were swimming with unshed tears. It was comforting to know he was feeling the pain, too. She was not entirely alone.
A strong and deep exhaustion pulled at her. All she wanted to do was sleep and the harder she fought it, the more tired she felt. She took the Ayurvedic pills and put them into her mouth. They dissolved on her tongue; sweet with a hint of mint. She took a sip of water and lay down.
“Wake me up in an hour, Ananth. Have to talk to … Raka … morning.”
She had no idea what he said because she was already asleep.
Flames crackled all around, reaching out for her with fiery fingers. She was going to burn to death. Tara screamed and sat up, every part of her sobbing with pain.
Fire!” she croaked. “Help!”
“It’s okay, Tara. Oh, my poor child,” said Gayatri as she rushed over with arms wide open. “It’s all right. It’s only the cooking fire.”
Tara came fully awake and realized that it was indeed as Gayatri-ma had described; a fire leaped under a bubbling pot of rice on the raised earthen platform. The house wasn’t burning down.
“S-sorry,” whispered Tara. She wiped her face with her sleeve. “I thought …”
“I know what you thought, Tara. I’m sorry for keeping you in the kitchen. But there is no more space in the front room. I’m afraid you’ll have to sleep here and so will I.”
Tara looked around and saw one more mattress rolled up in the corner. “Where’s Ananth?”
“He’s gone to get water; with five of us here, we’re constantly running out. He’ll be here any moment now.”
Tara nodded. Her head was a lot clearer now that she’d slept, though her body still ached. She glanced at the kitchen window. “Almost morning,” she said stifling a yawn. “How long did I sleep?”
“Actually it’s evening,” said Gayatri. “You’ve slept the day away.”
“Oh no! Why didn’t you wake me? I must speak with Rakaji.”
“Not today, you won’t,” said Gayatri with surprising firmness. Her eyes held a hint of steel. It was the first time that Tara had seen this side of her.
“How are Mother and Suraj?” she asked.
“They’re fine. I checked on them just before I started dinner and they were sleeping peacefully. But you can go wake them now so we can all eat something. Then you must sleep again. It’s the best cure.”
Tara walked into the front room as fast as her burned foot would allow her. Parvati was sitting up on the cot holding her head in her hands.
“Mother, are you okay?” said Tara, sitting beside her.
Parvati’s head jerked up. She flung her arms around Tara and hugged her tight. “Thank God you’re all right.”
Tara hugged her back, an aching lump in her throat. Parvati’s saree reeked of smoke, reminding her of their ordeal just a few hours ago. She took shallow breaths, trying to forget the ghastly night.
“Mother?” said Suraj.
They both rushed to his side.
“What is it, Suraj?” said Parvati.
“Everything hurts.” He started sobbing quietly and it broke Tara’s heart to watch him.
“You’ll be all right, little brother. Just sleep,” said Tara. She caressed his forehead gently and crooned in his ear until his restless tossing and turning subsided.
“Dinner’s ready.” Gayatri stood in the doorway holding a lantern aloft. The white of her saree glowed in the soft, yellow light, giving her a ghostly appearance.
Tara shook her head. She was so full of anger and hate; there was no room for food.
“Tara, you have to eat and get strong,” said Gayatri. “Starving is not going to solve anything. Come along now, I don’t want to hear another word from you. Let Suraj sleep. When he’s awake, I’ll bring him some food.
Again Tara marvelled at the steel in her voice. Gayatri-ma appeared meek to the world, but in her home she was a woman with an iron will. Tara sat on the kitchen floor, trying not to look at the flames embracing the bottom of the blackened cooking pot.
Ananth walked in through the back door, dripping with sweat, but triumphantly bearing two pots of water. “Had to walk to two wells to get these,” he said in a tired voice. “But we should be all right until tomorrow.”
“Sit, Ananth. Dinner is ready,” said his mother.
Ananth settled down and attacked his meal with gusto.
“Thank you, Gayatri,” said Parvati after a while. “My family and I owe you a lot.” They were seated in the kitchen eating a simple dinner of yellow dal, rice, and boiled spinach.
“Anyone would have done …” Gayatri replied and stopped. She took a bite of food and chewed it carefully.
Tara knew why she hadn’t finished the sentence. No one had taken them in and not a single villager had stopped by to talk to them, either. Except for Rakaji, who had dropped in while they had been asleep. They were outcasts, just like Gayatri-ma. The thought made her chest burn.
Her mother still wore the blood-stained saree since the only ones Gayatri had were white. She had heard her apologize to Parvati for not lending her one; it was bad luck for a married woman to wear white.
Don’t cry, don’t cry, Tara chanted silently as she pushed the food around on her plate. How could things have gone so badly wrong for them? A few days ago they were the pride of Morni and today they were pariahs.
Ananth was quiet, too. A lot of thinking was going on behind those dark, black eyes, which seemed to be avoiding hers a lot lately. How she wished she could take him aside and discuss everything. Within her, one thought burned bright and strong; revenge. Kali was beyond reach, but she would see to it that Layla suffered. A lot!
“I need to go back and get some clothes,” said Parvati. “I have to get out of these filthy ones. My skin is crawling.”
Ananth and Gayatri exchanged glances.
“What?” asked Tara. “Why are you looking at each other like that?”
“I’ll send Ananth to one of the villagers to lend yo
u a saree and blouse,” said Gayatri. “I know a couple of them who will still help us, though they might be afraid to do it openly.”
“But why not our own?” asked Parvati, her face pale.
“There’s nothing left,” said Ananth, his expression grim. “Not a stick of furniture or clothing. Everything that could burn has gone up in flames. Only the pots and pans are left.”
“Bela?” said Tara so suddenly that she almost choked on the morsel of food she was swallowing. “Did anyone get Bela out?”
Gayatri bit her lip. Ananth shook his head. Parvati’s face crumpled and Tara could not contain her tears any longer. Their cow was a part of their family, sharing good times and bad with them.
“The shed caught fire too,” said Ananth, softly. “No one could save her.”
“Oh, Lord Ganesh,” Parvati finally whispered. She dabbed at her eyes. “So we did lose a member of the family. Bela came to our house when I was married and now she’s gone …”
Tara stared at her plate, feeling like she had eaten too much. The food in her stomach threatened to climb back up. She was about to push her plate away when she caught her mother’s eye. Parvati shook her head imperceptibly. Tara understood; she could not waste this food. It was from Gayatri’s meagre supplies and it would be a sin and an insult to waste it.
“Eat up everyone,” said Gayatri. “I’ll make us some tea afterwards.”
Night had fallen by the time they sat out in the courtyard with cups of sweet, milky tea.
“Did Rakaji say anything about the fire?” said Tara without preamble. “Did he investigate how it started? Who’s responsible?”
“No,” replied Ananth. “He said he was going to call a meeting of the Panchayat to look into this as soon as he could.”
“When is that going to be?” said Tara. “I have to be there.”
Ananth shrugged. “I don’t know.” He sipped his tea, staring into the distance.
Tara wanted to shake him up. How could he be so calm when she’d almost died? They were homeless now and when Father came back, they would have to rebuild their hut. Too much was happening all at once and her head reeled.
“I must be there, too,” said Parvati. “The fire was no accident. All this nonsense about us bringing bad luck to Morni has gone far enough.”
“The best thing for all of you is to rest up,” said Gayatri. “When Shiv gets back he can deal with it. It’s only a matter of a few days. Right?”
They fell silent again.
“We have to see our home,” said Parvati. “Maybe we can camp there and start clearing up as soon as possible. We can’t be a burden on you indefinitely.”
“Please, Parvati, don’t hurt me by saying that,” said Gayatri. She reached out and clasped Parvati’s hand. “You and your family can stay here as long as you like.”
“Thank you, Gayatri. But … I have to see the condition of our hut, see the extent of the damage.”
“Not tonight. Rest today and Ananth will come with you tomorrow.”
Parvati nodded and gulped down the last of her tea. Tara lingered on, still sipping hers.
“You go on, Mother, I’ll finish this and come in.”
Gayatri helped Parvati to her feet. Her mother swayed on the spot for a moment, holding her head. A small moan escaped her lips and Tara knew the blow to her head from the beam must still be very painful. They went in, leaving her and Ananth outside.
“How bad is it?” said Tara. She looked straight into Ananth’s eyes, ready to pounce on him if he gave the slightest indication of lying.
“As I said before, it’s completely gutted,” he replied, not meeting her eyes.
Tara’s hand shook as she placed the glass of tea on the ground. She took a deep breath and looked up at the sky studded with stars. It was the same as the night before and the night before that. But her life had changed forever and it had taken but a few minutes. Yesterday at this time she had a home, a family, and Bela. Today she had her lost a member of her family, her home, and her peace of mind.
“Why?” she whispered. “What did I do wrong?”
“Tara, stop beating yourself up,” said Ananth. His voice trembled slightly. “It could have happened to anyone. The drought has made a tinderbox of our village. Any of the huts could have been a victim of a stray ember. I’m sure it was an accident. I think you should let the Panchayat handle this.”
“But any hut didn’t catch fire. Mine did. Layla’s behind this. I know it!”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Ananth. “She’s not capable of setting fire to anyone’s hut. How could she have done it? Do you think Rakaji would not notice if she walked out of the hut with a burning piece of wood?”
“She could have started the fire when everyone was asleep. You know that she’s capable of it! She does most of her dirty work under the cover of darkness.”
Ananth was quiet. The dim light from the guttering wick of the lamp illuminated his grim expression. His black eyes were like stones. “I still think it’s an accident. You should put it out of your mind. Tomorrow we’ll go to your place and see if there’s anything we can salvage before your father gets back.”
“Someone just tried to murder us and you’re telling me to put it out of my mind and go to sleep? Are you mad, Ananth? What’s gotten into you?”
“Shh! You’ll have our mothers out here in a second. You always like to be dramatic, don’t you?”
Tara glared at him. “Layla wanted to avenge her mother’s death, but this time she’s gone too far. I’m going to stop her, once and for all. I don’t care what happens to me!”
“How?” said Ananth. “By setting fire to Rakaji’s hut?”
“I don’t know yet. That’s what I have to figure out. Are you with me, Ananth?”
Ananth scratched at the earth with a twig, not looking at Tara.
Tara stared at him, willing him to meet her eyes, to tell her it would be all right, that he’d help her.
He said nothing.
The oppressive silence weighed down on her. If this was the way he wanted it, so be it. She wasn’t going to beg for his help.
“I think I’ll turn in now,” she said with an exag-gerated yawn. And then, without looking at Ananth, she walked back to the dark kitchen and lay down on her makeshift bed.
Tara stared at the dying embers, at the misshapen shadows draped on the walls, at the unfamiliar kitchen around her. The ugliness of the past few days seemed to have buried itself deep within her soul and she wondered if she would ever be able to rid herself of it. A dry wind swept into the kitchen through the open back door. The embers glowed red hot, refusing to die out.
Tara sat up. She could not give up now. The fight between the mongoose and cobra flashed through her mind. The mongoose had strength, but the snake was more agile and it had won.
Layla had gone overboard this time. Each time Tara had not retaliated Layla had done something worse. But this, this last incident had almost cost them their lives. But how could she stop her?
Kill her, said the little voice.
Tara shuddered. Yes, that would be the easiest and quickest solution. But could she live the rest of her life with a child’s death on her conscience? She moaned softly as the answer came to her. She’d rather face her own death than kill yet again. Already the nightmares of Zarku’s and Kali’s deaths haunted her. To add Layla’s to that would be unbearable.
Lord Yama had said he’d take her to the Underworld to see Kali. But would she agree to stop guiding her daughter down the wrong path? Kali had spent most of her life making Tara’s life miserable. It would be foolish to think that she’d help her now. Whom could she turn to for help?
Zara. It seemed as if Zarku’s mother was whispering in her ear again. Now she was a woman worth admiring; a mother who had helped Tara defeat her own son for the sake of doing the right thing. And when it was over, Zara had willingly followed her son into the chasm. She’d be the best person from whom Tara could seek advice.
Yes
! That was the answer. She would have to go to the Underworld, find Zara and ask her for a way to stop Layla. Then her family would be safe.
Tara hugged herself, allowing a moment of self-pity. By doing this, everyone would be happy. Well, almost everyone. She wouldn’t be around to enjoy it.
The creaks from the courtyard became less frequent. Just a few more minutes, she told herself as she tossed and turned waiting for Ananth to fall asleep. Then she would make a move.
Tara stared at the ceiling. She was in no danger of falling asleep. Anger and fear clawed and gnawed at her insides, keeping her wide awake. Was she doing the right thing? Would her plan work? How would she locate Zara in the Underworld? And what if she met Kali or Zarku instead? Would they still have the power to harm her?
The mournful howl of a stray dog pulled her out of the endless vortex of questions threatening to overwhelm her. It was time to go.
Tara crept out the back door and stood for a moment in the shadows, listening hard. Nothing stirred. She padded softly past Ananth and in a flash she was on the road running hard toward her hut. It will be in bad shape, be prepared, be prepared, she told herself.
But nothing could have prepared her for what she saw. For a moment she wasn’t even sure she had come to the right place. Her mind saw the familiar outline of her home, but her eyes saw empty space, illuminated by a crescent moon that hung low in the sky.
The sight of her home in ruins was like a punch to her stomach. Only two walls remained standing. Tara walked up to the rubble, unable to stop the tears. A heap of charred wood and straw marked the spot where she had lived since her birth. Here and there she saw a flash of silver; the utensils were the only things that had escaped, though not without a thick coating of soot. No one had even been by to clean up.
Inside her, sadness hardened into a shard of pain that pierced her heart. It hurt so much that she couldn’t breathe. She thought of Suraj and the haunted look in his eyes as he had tried to sip water using his bandaged hands. She thought of her mother’s eyes, sunken into their sockets, as she tried to make sense of the senseless, and she remembered Bela’s soft brown eyes as she stood patiently, listening to Tara’s troubles when Parvati had disappeared.
The Deadly Conch Page 10