Tiger's Curse

by Colleen Houck

  Kishan looked over at Ren, who inclined his head in a soft nod, and then Kishan turned back to me. He smiled, and said, “I’ll miss you, Kelsey. Come visit me again soon.”

  I hugged him briefly and turned my cheek toward him for a kiss. At the last second, Kishan altered his stance and pecked me quickly on the lips.

  I sputtered with shock, “You wily scoundrel!” Then I laughed and punched him lightly on the arm.

  He just laughed and winked at me.

  Ren clenched his fists and a dark expression stole across his handsome face, but Kishan ignored him and ran off toward the jungle. His laughter echoed back at us through the trees and became a gruff bark as he changed back into the black tiger.

  Ren approached me, picked up the pendant, and rubbed it thoughtfully between his fingers. I put my hand on his arm, worried that he might still be angry about Kishan. He tugged on my braid, smiled, and pressed a warm kiss on my forehead.

  Changing into a white tiger again, he led me through the jungle for another half hour until, with relief, I saw we’d finally reached the highway.

  Waiting until there was no traffic, we hurried to the other side and disappeared into the verdant undergrowth. After following Ren’s nose for a short distance, we finally came upon a military-style tent, and I ran up to hug the man who emerged from it.

  “Mr. Kadam! I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you!”

  17

  a beginning

  miss Kelsey!” Mr. Kadam welcomed warmly. “I’m glad to see you, too! I hope the boys took good care of you.”

  Ren snorted and found a shady spot to rest.

  “Yes. They did. I’m fine.”

  Mr. Kadam led me to a log near his campfire. “Here, sit down and rest while I break camp.”

  I nibbled on a cookie as I watched Mr. Kadam shuffle around taking down his tent and packing up his books. His camp was as well organized as I expected it to be. He’d used the back of the Jeep to store his books and other study materials. A campfire was crackling merrily, and he had plenty of wood stacked alongside. His tent looked like something the United States military might house a general in if he were roughing it. It appeared to be expensive, heavy, and much more complicated to set up than mine. He even had a fancy fold-up writing desk covered with papers held down with smooth, clean river rocks.

  I stood up and looked at the papers with curiosity. “Mr. Kadam, are these the translations of Durga’s prophecy?”

  I heard a grunt and a slight ping as Mr. Kadam pulled a heavy stake out of the ground. The tent suddenly folded in on itself and collapsed in a pile of heavy green canvas. He stood up to answer my question.

  “Yes. I’ve begun working on the translation of the monolith. I am quite sure that we need to go to Hampi. I also have a better idea of what we’re looking for.”

  “Hmm.” I picked up his notes, most of which weren’t in English. As I sipped my water, my hand came up to finger the amulet Kishan had given me.

  “Mr. Kadam, Kishan gave me his piece of the amulet, hoping it will protect me. Does yours protect you? Can you still be hurt?”

  He walked over and stowed the wrapped tent into the Jeep. He leaned on the bumper, and said, “The amulet helps protect me from serious injury, but I can still cut myself or fall and sprain my ankle.”

  Mr. Kadam rubbed his short beard thoughtfully. “I have become ill, but I have not experienced disease. My cuts and bruises have healed quickly, albeit not as quickly as Ren’s or Kishan’s would.”

  He picked up the amulet hanging around my neck and examined it carefully. “The different pieces may have different properties. We don’t really know the extent of its power at this point. It’s a mystery that I hope to solve one day. The bottom line, however, is to not take risks. If something looks dangerous, avoid it. If something chases you, run. Do you understand?”

  “Got it.”

  He dropped the amulet and went back to stowing things in the Jeep. “I’m glad that Kishan agreed to give it to you.”

  “Agreed? I thought it was his idea.”

  “No, actually, getting the amulet was the reason Ren wanted to stop here in the first place. He wouldn’t leave until he’d convinced Kishan to let you have it.”

  Puzzled, I said, “Really? I thought we were trying to convince Kishan to join us.”

  Mr. Kadam shook his head sadly. “We knew there was little hope of that. Kishan has been indifferent to any previous efforts I’ve made to conscript him for our cause. I’ve tried over the years to lure him out of the jungle and into a more comfortable life at the house, but he prefers to remain here.”

  I nodded. “He’s punishing himself for Yesubai’s death.”

  Mr. Kadam looked at me, surprised. “Did he speak of this to you?”

  “Yes. He told me what happened when Yesubai died. He still blames himself. And not just for her death, but also for what happened to him and Ren. I feel very sad for Kishan.”

  Mr. Kadam sagely considered, “For such a young person, you’re very compassionate and perceptive, Miss Kelsey. I’m glad Kishan was able to confide in you. There is hope for him yet.”

  I helped him gather up his papers and the fold up chair and table. When we were done, I patted Ren lightly on his shoulder to let him know we were ready to leave. He stood slowly, arched his back, twitched his tail, and then curled his tongue in a giant yawn. After rubbing his head against my hand, he followed me to the Jeep. I hopped into the passenger seat, leaving the back open for Ren to sprawl out in.

  Driving back to the highway, Mr. Kadam seemed to actually enjoy weaving through the obstacle course of tree stumps, bushes, rocks, and potholes. The Jeep’s shock absorbers were top of the line, but I still had to hold tightly onto the door handle and brace myself against the dashboard to keep from knocking my head on the roof. Finally, we were out onto the smooth highway again and heading southwest.

  Mr. Kadam encouraged, “Tell me all about your week with two tigers.”

  I peeked at Ren in the backseat. He seemed to be napping, so I decided to start by telling him about the hunt first, and then I backtracked and talked about everything else. Well, almost everything else. I didn’t talk about the kissing thing. It wasn’t that I thought Mr. Kadam wouldn’t have understood; in fact, I think he would have. I couldn’t trust that Ren was actually asleep in the back, and I wasn’t ready to share my feelings yet, so I skipped that part.

  Mr. Kadam was most interested in hearing about Kishan. He’d been shocked when Kishan walked out of the jungle asking for more food for me. He said that Kishan hadn’t seemed to care about anything or anyone since his parents had died.

  I told him about how Kishan stayed with me for five days while Ren was hunting and that we talked about how he met Yesubai. I tried to keep my voice quiet and whisper about her so I didn’t upset Ren. Mr. Kadam seemed puzzled at my need to encode everything I was saying, but he indulged me anyway. He nodded, carefully listening to my comments about you-know-what and the thing-that-happened-at-that-place.

  I could tell he knew more and could have filled in a few blanks for me but he wouldn’t divulge information loosely. Mr. Kadam was the type of man who kept confidences. That characteristic worked both for me and against me. Ultimately, I decided that it was a good thing and changed the subject to Ren and Kishan’s childhood.

  “Ah. The boys were their parents’ pride and joy—royal princes with a knack for getting into trouble and charming their way out of it. They were given anything they desired, but they had to work to earn it.

  “Deschen, their mother, was unconventional for India. She would take them out in disguise to play with the poor children. She wanted her children to be open to all cultures and religious practices. Her marriage to their father, King Rajaram, was a blend of two cultures. He loved and indulged her, not caring what anyone else thought. The boys were raised with the best of both worlds. They studied everything from politics and warfare to herding and crops. They were trained in the weapons of India, and
also had access to the best teachers from all over Asia.”

  “Did they do other things? Like normal teenager stuff?”

  “What types of things are you curious about?”

  I twitched nervously. “Did they . . . date?”

  Mr. Kadam quirked an eyebrow curiously. “No. Definitely not. The story you told me about,” he winked, “you-know-what is the only time I have ever heard of either of them having a romantic escapade. Frankly, they had no time for that, and both boys were to have arranged marriages anyway.”

  I rested my head against the seat back after tilting it back a little. I tried to imagine what their lives were like. It must have been difficult having no choices, but then again they were privileged when others had much less. Still, having freedom of choice was something I treasured.

  Soon, my thoughts became foggy, and my tired body nudged me into a deep sleep. When I woke up, Mr. Kadam handed me a wrapped sandwich and a large fruit juice.

  “Go ahead and eat something. We’ll stop at a hotel for the night so you can get a good night’s rest in a comfortable bed for a change.”

  “What about Ren?”

  “I picked a hotel that’s near a small section of jungle. We can drop him there and pick him up on the way back.”

  “What about tiger traps?”

  Mr. Kadam laughed softly. “Told you about that, did he? Don’t worry, Miss Kelsey. He’s not likely to make the same mistake twice. There aren’t any big animals in this area so the townsfolk won’t look for him. If he keeps his head low there shouldn’t be any trouble.”

  An hour later, Mr. Kadam pulled over near a dense part of the jungle at the outskirts of a small town and let Ren out. We continued on to a village that was bustling with vibrantly dressed people and colorful homes and pulled to a stop in front of our hotel.

  “It’s not a five star,” Mr. Kadam explained, “but it does have its charms.”

  A polished square convenience store window displayed sale items. On top of the store, I saw a giant sign supported by a wood frame. It was painted pink and red and announced the store’s name, which I couldn’t read, and featured an old-fashioned cola bottle, which was universally recognizable no matter what language was printed on it.

  Mr. Kadam approached the hotel’s front desk while I wandered around, examining the interesting products for sale. I found American chocolate bars and sodas mixed in with unusual candies and frozen popsicles in exotic flavors.

  Mr. Kadam got our keys and bought us two colas and two popsicles. He handed me a white one while he took the orange one. I pulled off the wrapper, warily smelling my frozen treat.

  “It’s not something like soy bean and curry is it?”

  He grinned. “Take a bite.”

  I did and was surprised to find it was coconut flavored. Not as good as Tillamook Mudslide, but not bad at all, I mused.

  Mr. Kadam bit off a hunk of his popsicle, held it up with a grin, and said, “Mango.”

  The two-story, mint-green hotel had a wrought iron gate, a concrete patio, and flamingo-pink trim. My room had a full-size bed set in the middle of the floor. A colorful curtain hid a small closet with a few wooden hangers. A basin and a pitcher of fresh water as well as a couple of earthenware mugs rested on a table. Instead of air conditioning, a ceiling fan circled lazily overhead, barely stirring the warm air. There was no bathroom. All tenants had to share the facilities on the first floor. The accommodations were sparse, but it still beat the jungle, hands down.

  After seeing me settled and giving me my key, Mr. Kadam said he would come retrieve me to take me to dinner in three hours, and then he retreated, leaving me to my privacy.

  He was barely out the door when a small Indian woman wearing a bright orange flowing shirt over a white skirt came to launder my dirty clothes. In no time at all, she returned with my washed clothes and hung them on the clothesline outside my door. They flapped quietly in the breeze, and I drowsed listening to the soothing domestic sound.

  After a short nap and sketching a few new drawings of Ren as a tiger, I braided my hair and tied it with a red ribbon to match my red shirt. I’d just finished putting on my sneakers when Mr. Kadam knocked on the door.

  He took me out to eat at what he said was the best restaurant in town, The Mango Flower. We took a small motorboat taxi across the river and walked to a building that looked like a plantation house that was surrounded by banana, palm, and mango trees.

  He led me around the back, and we walked on a paved stone path that led to an amazing view of the river. Heavy wooden tables with smooth polished tops and stone benches were placed all around a patio. Decorated iron lanterns were set on the corner of each table and provided the only light. A brick archway to the right was covered in white jasmine that perfumed the evening air.

  “Mr. Kadam, this is lovely!”

  “Yes, the man at the front desk recommended it. I thought you would enjoy a good meal since you’ve been eating army rations for a week.”

  I let Mr. Kadam order for me since I had no idea what the menu said. We enjoyed a dinner of basmati rice, grilled vegetables, chicken saag, which turned out to be chicken cooked with creamed spinach, a flaky white fish with mango chutney, vegetable pakora fritters, coconut prawns, naan bread, and a kind of lemonade made with a dash of cumin and mint called jal jeera. I sipped the lemonade, found it was a bit too tangy for my taste, and ended up drinking a lot of water instead.

  As we started our meal, I asked Mr. Kadam what more he’d learned about the prophecy.

  He wiped his mouth with his napkin, took a sip of water, and said, “I believe what you are seeking is called the Golden Fruit of India.” He leaned in a little closer and lowered his voice. “The tale of the Golden Fruit is a very old legend forgotten by most modern scholars. It was supposedly an object of divine origin given to Hanuman to watch over and protect. Shall I tell you the story?”

  I sipped my water and nodded.

  “India was once a vast wasteland, completely uninhabitable. It was full of fiery serpents, great deserts, and fierce beasts. Then the gods and goddesses came and the face of the land changed. They created man and gave mankind special gifts, the first one being the Golden Fruit. When it was planted, a mighty tree sprang up, and from the fruit that grew on the tree, seeds were gathered and spread all over India, changing it into a fertile land that would feed millions.”

  “But, if the Golden Fruit was planted, wouldn’t it have disappeared or become the roots of the tree?”

  “One fruit from that first tree ripened quickly and became golden, and that Golden Fruit was taken and hidden by Hanuman, the half-man, half-monkey king of Kishkindha. As long as the fruit is protected, India’s people will be fed.”

  “So that’s the fruit we have to find? What if Hanuman is still protecting it and we can’t get to it?”

  “Hanuman protected the fruit by placing it in his fortress and surrounding it with immortal servants who would watch over it. I don’t know much about the kinds of barriers that would be set up to stop you. I’m guessing there will be more than one trap designed to pull you from your course. On the other hand, you are Durga’s favored one, and you have her protection as well.”

  I rubbed my hand absentmindedly. It tingled. The henna drawing had faded, but I knew it was still there. I sipped my water.

  “Do you really think we’ll find anything? I mean, do you really believe in this stuff?”

  “I don’t know. I hope it’s true so the tigers can be freed. I try to keep my mind open. I know there are powers that I can’t discern and things that bend and shape us that we can’t see. I shouldn’t be alive, but somehow I am. Ren and Kishan are trapped in some kind of magic that I don’t understand, and it’s my duty to help them.”

  I must have looked worried because he patted my hand and said, “Don’t fret. I have a strong feeling that everything will work out in the end. It’s faith that keeps me focused on our goal. I have great confidence in you and Ren, and I believe, for the first ti
me in centuries, that there is hope.”

  He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Now, shall we turn our attention to dessert?”

  He ordered kulfi for both of us, which he explained was an Indian ice cream made from fresh cream and nuts. It was refreshing on a warm evening, though not as sweet or creamy as American ice cream.

  After dinner, we strolled back to the boat and talked about Hampi. Mr. Kadam advised that we should visit a local temple of Durga before we ventured to the ruins to look for the gateway to Kishkindha.

  As we strolled slowly through town to the market, Mr. Kadam and I caught sight of our mint-green hotel. He turned to me with a sheepish expression and said, “I hope you forgive me in choosing this somewhat modest hotel. I wanted to stay in the smaller town closer to the jungle in case Ren needed me. He can reach us here quickly if he needs to, and I felt safer being closer to him.”

  “I’m fine, Mr. Kadam. After staying in the jungle for a week, this feels luxurious.”

  He laughed and nodded his head. We browsed through the different stalls, and Mr. Kadam bought some fruit we could share for breakfast and some type of rice cakes wrapped in banana leaves. They looked similar to the lunch Phet had made for me, but Mr. Kadam assured me they were sweet and not spicy.

  After I got ready for bed, I fluffed my pillow and stuck it behind my back, pulled my freshly washed and dried quilt over my lap, and thought about Ren sitting in the jungle all alone. I felt guilty being here with him out there. I also missed him and felt lonely. I liked having him around. Sighing deeply, I pulled my hair out of my braid, wiggled down, and fell into a light sleep.

  Sometime around midnight, a soft knock on my door woke me. I was hesitant to open it. It was late, and surely it couldn’t be Mr. Kadam. I walked to the door, put my hand quietly against it, and listened.

  There was a muffled tap again, and I heard a familiar voice whisper faintly, “Kelsey, it’s me.”

  I unlocked the door and peeked out. Ren was standing there dressed in his white clothes, barefoot, with a triumphant grin on his face. I pulled him inside and hissed out thickly, “What are you doing here? It’s dangerous coming into town! You could have been seen, and they’d send hunters out after you!”