The Deadly Conch

by Mahtab Narsimhan

  Raka stepped back and looked at her as if she were a rabid dog. Layla stood by Sumathy, cowering and simpering. It was all Tara could do to stop from springing to her feet and slapping Layla for the show she was putting on.

  Instead she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Focus, Tara. You need Vishnuji. Focus on that.

  “Sumathyji, I’m sorry,” said Tara. “But I have a very good reason for coming here this late.”

  Sumathy gave her a scorching look. “Whatever you have to say you can tell Raka. I have no idea what’s come over you, Tara. You were never like this. It’s like … like you’re possessed or something …” She shook her head. “I don’t want to be part of this and I would prefer that you never spoke to me again. Ever.” She walked away and Layla followed her like an obedient puppy.

  As she watched Layla’s large backside recede, she wondered why she had told Zarku she wouldn’t be able to kill a child. At this moment she’d be able to throttle Layla without a second’s hesitation.

  Tara was alone in the kitchen with Raka. He crossed his hands on his chest and stared at her, not saying a word. In all the time that Tara had known him, not once had he looked this angry. Even the wrinkles on his face looked livid.

  “I need your help, Rakaji,” said Tara. She spoke softly, trying to sound respectful. “Suraj is very ill with a high fever and severe burns. Vaidji has refused to come and treat him. He needs help before it’s too late.”

  Raka stared at her. The silence grew, filling the room.

  “How can you just stand there, Rakaji?” said Tara. Anger simmered inside her and she had to work really hard so that it wouldn’t spill over into her voice. “Have you managed to find the culprits who destroyed our home? Because of what they did, Suraj is fighting for his life!”

  “I know about that,” said Raka very slowly. “And we’re investigating it.” He did not sound enthusiastic about it, nor indignant, more like he was annoyed about the whole incident. Tara’s anger bubbled closer to the surface. “But there are a few questions that I have for you. In a way, I’m glad you came here tonight.”

  Here it comes, thought Tara. She waited patiently, looking straight into the chief’s eyes. She had done nothing wrong even though she had sworn to keep the last twenty-four hours a secret.

  “Where were you all of today?”

  “Walking by myself.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “To the forest.” The urge to look away was overpowering, but Tara forced herself to hold his piercing gaze. He had to believe her.

  “Your house burned down, your brother is suffering from burns, and in this terrible heat you went for a walk, all alone. I did not expect such blatant lies from Prabala’s granddaughter.”

  The words were like a slap. She had steeled herself for his anger, his taunts, but not this deep disgust and disappointment which marred his serene countenance.

  “Rakaji, surely you, with all your wisdom, cannot believe that I am responsible for all the troubles in Morni; the failing rains, the dead animals! I did go for a walk and yes, it was a foolish thing to do at a time like this, but I needed a quiet place to think. You cannot punish me for being stupid.”

  Raka’s expression softened slightly. “Tara, I don’t know what to believe at the moment. I have known you and your family for a long time. There are so many things that are confusing, that are so out of character for you, and yet I cannot ignore the evidence in front of me. I have to discuss all of this with the Panchayat. We should be done in a couple of days and you will be the first to know our decision.”

  “I DON’T HAVE A COUPLE OF DAYS!”

  Tara’s hand flew to her mouth when she saw Raka’s shocked expression. She was sure no one, least of all a child, had ever yelled at him. But why couldn’t he see the truth which was so clear to her?

  “How dare you raise your voice at me!” said Raka. His voice shook with anger.

  “I’m sorry,” said Tara. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but I’m just so worried about Suraj and everything else. You don’t know the whole story, Rakaji. Time is running out and if Layla isn’t stopped she could destroy us all. She said she’d make me suffer for the death of her mother and then she’d make the villagers suffer for throwing her mother out and —”

  “Enough!” said Raka. He held up a hand. “I don’t have time to listen to your ravings. I have more serious problems. The people of Pinjaur are very upset about their well. They shared the water with us and someone from Morni contaminated it. Their Panchayat is coming over first thing tomorrow morning to see that the culprit is severely punished and to decide what to do about the water situation. I’m afraid they might already have decided who that is.”

  “Let me talk to them,” said Tara. “I’ll explain that it couldn’t have been me.”

  “Tara, you haven’t even convinced me, how on earth are you going to convince a bunch of very angry villagers that you didn’t do it? You didn’t go for a walk and we both know it. Tell me the truth and there’s a chance I could help you.”

  Tara’s heart lurched as she met Raka’s shrewd eyes, which seemed to look into her soul. She desperately wanted to tell him the truth. Later she would ask Lord Yama to forgive her. At least it would clear her name and everyone would stop hating her.

  Tara remembered Lord Yama’s stern expression, his last words: “Tell no one!”

  Lord Yama had helped her when she needed him. Was it fair to break her promise just to save herself? What if the consequences of telling everyone that she had visited the Underworld were worse than keeping silent? What if it meant more deaths?

  Tara clasped her mother’s necklace, seeking comfort, a sign, anything. What should she do?

  It was Raka who finally decided. “So be it, Tara. You had your chance.” He walked out the door swiftly. “Stay here and don’t go anywhere. It is as much for your safety as ours. You’re just too dangerous to be running around the village by yourself.”

  “Where are you going?”

  The door slammed in her face and the bolt shot into place. She heard faint whispers in the front room. Then silence.

  Tara pounded on the door with her fists. The cuts on her palms screamed with pain but she ignored it and continued banging. “Rakaji, let me out! Mother and Suraj are waiting for me. Please, you have the wrong person locked up!”

  There was no sound. Where had he gone? Was she going to be locked up in the kitchen all night long? Couldn’t he see that it was Layla who was a threat to them all! Tara paced the tiny room, wishing she had never come here. Mother had warned her not to go, Ananth had said the same thing, but she’d turned a deaf ear to both. The last few hours she had in Morni were slipping away. Tomorrow night Lord Yama would be back and she would have given up her life for nothing!

  No! She was getting out. There was no punishment Raka could give her that would surpass what was already in store for her.

  The back door! Tara had been pacing in front of it without realizing it was her escape route. She undid the chain with trembling hands and pushed the door open. Her heart leaped into her throat and then plummeted straight to her toes. Raka stood there holding a lantern. Behind him stood Layla. She was smiling, aware that only Tara could see her expression. The door slammed shut in her face once again. She was trapped!

  “Let me out, Rakaji. I beg you. I have to go back to Mother. She’s waiting for me.”

  Their footsteps receded. Tara raced to the barred window set high in the wall, stood below it, and yelled. Her throat was so dry and scratchy, it hurt to speak. The air in the small kitchen seemed to have evaporated and a massive headache pounded Tara’s skull.

  “Rakaji, Sumathyji? Don’t leave me here. Please!”

  There was no answer.

  Tara ran over to a large aluminum container in the corner. It was so heavy, she couldn’t pick it up. She put her shoulder to it and pushed the tin toward the window. Beads of sweat popped out on her forehead and her hands ached. When it was right under t
he window she jumped onto it just in time to see Raka stride out the courtyard.

  “Come back!” she yelled, clutching the bars tightly. “Don’t leave me here … please …”

  Silence answered her desperate pleas.

  — nineteen —

  Trapped!

  Wearily, Tara climbed down from the box and slumped against the wall, her face wet with sweat and tears. She’d tried so hard to rid Morni of Kali’s evil legacy. But it had gone so very wrong. Suraj lay dying and not only had she failed to get Vishnuji, but she was doomed to spend her last few hours on earth locked up in Rakaji’s kitchen while the real perpetrator was free.

  Exhaustion made her limbs leaden. All she wanted was to sleep for a long, long time and forget about everything and everyone. But she couldn’t. Suraj’s burned face crept into her mind. Parvati’s sad eyes haunted her. Tara got to her feet and paced the tiny kitchen. What must they be thinking? That she had gone for a walk yet again?

  Unconsciously, Tara slipped her hand into her pocket. It closed over empty air. Lord Yama had probably known that she would call him yet again and taken the conch away. For a brief moment she hated him.

  Tara leaned her head against the brick wall and took a deep breath. Why hadn’t she just ignored Layla? Sooner or later she might have become tired of targeting Tara and left her alone. She beat her fist against the wall and a current of pain shot up her arm. She stared at the mutilated flesh of her palms; a stark reminder of what she’d been through and what was in store for her in a few short hours.

  When she was gone, Layla was sure to destroy her family and then start on the people of Morni.

  Why should you care? the small voice inside her said. One of them set fire to your hut and almost killed you all. This question plagued her worse than the thirst. If not Layla, then who? Who could hate her family so much? It was one more mystery she had to solve before Lord Yama took her away.

  Silvery light illuminated the hot airless room. Its walls seemed to be moving inward, crushing her. Heat and thirst were driving her mad. Tara hobbled around the kitchen, peering into every earthen pot.

  The one by the door gave off a delicious whiff of water. She sobbed with relief as she dipped a glass inside. There wasn’t much, but enough to take the edge off her terrible thirst.

  The water revived her slightly and she rested her forehead on the cool surface of the earthen pot, drinking in the fragrance of the wet mud. Like so many other things in her life, she had taken drinking water for granted. Only now that it was in such short supply, did she realize just how precious it was.

  Minutes ticked by slowly. Tara thought of Parvati. Would she even see her mother again so she could tell her how much she loved her? Would she ever see Suraj running around, teasing her or begging her to solve a riddle? And her father? Would he return with Grandfather in time to put a stop to this madness?

  A yell pierced the silence of the night. “They’re here!”

  Tara shot to her feet and stepped up on the tin by the window. The street just beyond the courtyard was dark from end to end and deserted. Who had just screamed? The street seemed to be breathing quietly, waiting.

  Tara waited, too, with a terrible feeling that something was about to explode.

  Pinpricks of light in the distance caught her eye. It looked as if a horde of fireflies was headed her way. Their intermittent glow disturbed the inky darkness of night. Then she heard the faint roar and her heartbeat accelerated as she realized what she was seeing: lit torches carried by a huge crowd of people, heading for Morni.

  Tara remembered Raka’s words. The villagers of Pinjaur were coming for a meeting in the morning. But it was evident that they hadn’t waited.…

  The front door slammed open. Tara jumped down from the tin and ran to the door between the kitchen and the front room.

  “Sumathy, Layla, come quick!” She heard Raka say. “We have to leave now!”

  Where was Raka taking them? What about her? “I’m in here, Rakaji,” she yelled. “Don’t forget about me.”

  “Tara, be quiet. Don’t attract attention to yourself in any way. And stay away from the window,” Raka yelled. The door banged shut and there was silence once again.

  Tara was paralyzed. Raka had taken his family away and left her here, locked up. Men were approaching the village with torches and they all thought she was guilty. For a moment the darkness seemed to smother her. She gasped for breath and dug her nails into her palms to stop the blackness from overpowering her.

  “Let me out!” she screamed. “HELP!” Tara pounded on both doors in turns. There was no reply.

  She leaped onto the tin. The glow was much clearer now and so was the smoke from the torches. Her skin prickled as she remembered the fire that had destroyed her home; the hot flames licking at the walls and reaching out for her with golden-tipped fingers. What if the men discovered she was here and set the hut on fire? There would be no escape. No one other than Raka even knew she was here. She would be burned alive!

  The sounds of the mob were louder now. The yells were garbled. Then she caught one word, very clearly.

  Tara.

  — twenty —

  Another Loved One … Lost!

  The back door flew open. Tara screamed and flung herself backward, raising her arms to ward off an attack.

  Parvati staggered in, carrying an unconscious Suraj. Raka stood by the door watching them. His turban was askew and rivulets of sweat dripped from his haggard face.

  Tara ran to help her mother. Together they lay Suraj on the ground and made him comfortable. His face was pale and gaunt. Tara put a hand on his chest. Only when it rose and fell gently did she move away, exhaling noisily.

  Parvati, too, looked close to collapse as she stared at Raka wordlessly.

  “Mother, what’s going on?” said Tara. “Why are you here?”

  “Ask him,” said Parvati jerking her head at Raka. She sank to the floor beside Suraj and sighed audibly.

  With a brief nod, Raka stepped out and shut the door. Tara raced to it and pulled it open. “Rakaji, please tell me what’s going on?” she said. “Is someone going to try and burn us up again? Once was not enough?” Huge sobs welled up within her, but she swallowed hard, staring into his eyes, silently demanding that he speak the truth.

  Raka flinched and glanced furtively behind him. The street was still deserted. He stepped inside quickly and shut the door. Mopping his streaming face, he looked at Tara and Parvati.

  “Tara, things are as bad as they can get. The villagers of Pinjaur are demanding blood — your blood — for contaminating their well. They’re looking for you, but I told them your hut burned down and that you’d already left Morni to find Prabala. They don’t believe me. They think you’re somewhere in the village, hiding. The last place they’ll look for you is in my house. That’s why I locked you up and here you must stay. Don’t try to escape. If anyone catches you …” He shook his head.

  “But why do they want to kill me?” said Tara. “Surely contamination of a well does not deserve a death sentence?”

  “Tara, there have been no rains. Crops are failing and already people are starving. They feel Morni’s bad luck is spreading to the villages all around. They are here to take care of the source of it.”

  “Oh no …” whispered Parvati, her face ashen. “What do we do, Raka?”

  “Parvati, you must do exactly as I say. I’m under a lot of pressure from the villagers to do something I don’t want to. I’m afraid things are going to get worse. That’s why I brought you here. And you must stay here until I tell you otherwise.”

  “If your house is so safe then why have you moved Sumathyji and Layla out of here?” said Tara.

  Raka’s eyes slid away. “I have to go.”

  Tara grabbed his sleeve. “Please let us go. We’ll be safer in the forest. Staying here is too risky. If anyone found us …”

  “No, Tara. The village is teeming with people. Many in Morni also think you’re guilty. You haven�
�t a hope of escaping unseen. Did anyone see you enter my house?”

  “No,” said Tara.

  “Did you tell anyone where you were going?”

  “Only Gayatri-ma and Ananth …”

  “They won’t tell anyone,” said Parvati. “I’d trust them with my life.”

  Suraj moaned in his sleep.

  “What about my brother?” said Tara. “He’s ill and needs water and medicine desperately. You have to send the vaid to us now. Before … it’s too … before he gets any worse.” Her voice almost broke, but she caught herself in time. She had to be strong right now; there was still so much to do.

  “I’m sorry, Tara. That will have to wait until this mess is over.”

  Before Tara could protest he had stepped out the door and locked it.

  Tara hurried over to Suraj. A sickly sweet smell came off him in hot waves, making her nauseous. His fever still hadn’t broken. She stared into his wan face and smoothed a wisp of damp hair from his forehead. Every fibre of her being longed to hear him say Didi once more, but he was deathly silent. Her fingers closed over his small, hot hand. She clasped it to her breast and prayed.

  “Didi.”

  Tara’s heart raced. “Suraj, how are you … feeling?”

  Suraj looked at her steadily with bright eyes. Too bright. He slipped his hand out of hers and fumbled in his pocket. It was only then Tara noticed the bulge. She pushed his hand aside gently and drew out a small package. It was heavy and without even opening it she knew exactly what it was.

  “For … you,” whispered Suraj. He closed his eyes, breathing raggedly.

  “What is it, Tara?” asked Parvati. “What’s in the parcel?”

  “Something he wants me to keep safe for him,” said Tara. She gazed into Suraj’s face, feeling as if her heart would burst with pain.

  Parvati did not ask any more questions as Tara tucked the bundle into her pocket wondering when she would get a chance to use it.