by Ranjit Lal
‘Yes. You are to report to the palace west wing at 0900 hours. All his Black Cats and fellows have been told to expect you. I will be waiting for you with your special pass at the guardhouse, so it will be all right.’
‘I see.’
‘Aren’t you happy?’
He could feel her warm breath on his cheek; it smelt of lemon drops. One push now, a hard shove on her back, and it would be over; he’d be free and done with this for good. ‘Umm… yes, of course,’ he replied.
‘I wrote to him,’ she said simply. ‘I said I hated him for what his security had done. He didn’t even know. And he’s the prime minister – imagine! He said he’s made enquiries.’
Big deal! In the end it would change nothing; nothing would come of the enquiry. They would continue to behave the way they had. This way, at least they’d know about the pain and hurt they inflicted on ordinary people. He’d better do it fast and get back to the estate. She was still standing very close, holding his hand. He put his other hand on her shoulder. Just do it, man, stop dithering…
And what would her last thoughts be as she fell screaming backwards into the whiteness, before her brains exploded and splattered on the rocks below? That her partner – the person she trusted the most, her loyal friend, an escapee from the kingdom of taklus like her – had done this to her. That, all along, she had been the person he had sworn to kill, since she had first overheard him at Emerald Eden. A traitor. And it was patently unfair, like the disease that had ravaged her and what had happened to Rani. There was no justice in it.
‘Come on,’ Shroom said. ‘We’d better go back. The Geek Empress will court-martial me otherwise.’ She took a step forward, and stumbled as her foot skidded off the rock she was on, made slick with wet mud and moss. Her hand slipped out of his and she was falling away from him, her arms flailing, shock on her face. A piercing shriek, rocks clattering, branches snapping and cracking – and she was gone, into the mist.
‘Shroom! Shroom!’ Gaurav screamed. ‘No! Oh, no! Shroom!’
Silently, the cloud moved in closer. With a pounding heart, he got down to his knees and peered over the edge of the ridge: nothing but swirling grey-white clouds swallowing up the bravest little girl in the world. Shaking, he strapped on his headlamp and switched it on. The beam just flared back on itself. The cloud drifted away in cotton tatters. Twenty feet below him, the dark silhouette of a twisted tree emerged: it had grown stubbornly and almost sideways out of a ledge on the side of the ridge. Shroom had crashed through its thin upper branches and got caught in a fork, slung across it like a leopard’s kill, her head and legs dangling from either side. She was very still.
‘Shroom! Are you all right? Don’t move!’ He steadied his beam on her; she hung there, motionless. The clouds drifted away from below her. Gaurav peered down and his stomach churned – he could see the rocks and waterfall pool, just waiting. If Shroom opened her eyes… He took a deep breath and directed his beam along the sides of the ridge, and his heart lifted. A ledge, of varying width, ran alongside the side of the ridge, like a shelf on a wall, right past and above the pine tree. He could access the ledge from the path that led down to the waterfall – the trouble was that in two or three sections it was maybe just two feet wide and the fall was sheer. He’d have to inch his way across it to the tree where, thankfully, it broadened out. And then, somehow he’d have to get to Shroom and pull her to safety.
‘Shroom, can you hear me?’ he shouted. ‘You’re caught in the fork of a tree. Don’t move…’ His heart lurched as he saw her dangling legs begin to move feebly.
‘Taklu! Where are you? Don’t worry, I’m not scared,’ she said in a teary, frightened voice.
‘Close your eyes, Special Agent. Now listen, I’m coming to get you. You’re caught in the fork of a tree – you know how leopards hang up their kill? Something like that, you understand? But keep your eyes closed!’
He nearly wept when he saw the valiant head nod feebly. But she was already regaining her wits. She’d begun raising her arms and was feeling around very carefully for branches she could hold on to. Eventually she gripped one of the stout branches of the fork and wrapped her arm around it. With her other arm, she gripped the other fork and then hoisted herself up and backwards as he held his breath. ‘Don’t overbalance please, whatever you do, don’t overbalance,’ he prayed. She was sitting in the fork now, holding its sides with her hands, like she were sitting on a swing, but with her back to him. What a kid, he thought. He wanted to kiss her a million times. She was a born gymnast, and what guts! There were tears streaming down his face and he wiped them away impatiently.
‘You’ve done great!’ he shouted, trying to keep down the rising sob in his voice. ‘You should be in the Olympics! Now hang on, I’m coming!’
He slithered down the path and, with his face towards the ridge, began inching his way along the narrow shelf of rock, his fingers desperately seeking holds. He slid his feet inch by inch sideways, listening with horror as pebbles and rocks got dislodged and bounced away, his fingers boring holes in the mossy rock face, prickling with terror. Luckily there were ferns and moss growing out of the surface, which gave him some hold, though he had to be very careful not to trust them too much. It took him fifteen minutes to get to the spot opposite her, and now slowly he turned around. It was at its broadest at this point, perhaps six feet wide, so comfortable. She was now sitting astride the fork; she’d swung her leg over somehow, and was looking up at him, her face pale, eyes still wide with shock, cheeks crisscrossed with scratches and now pearled with raindrops.
He lay down on the ledge and leaned over the edge, looking down at her – just six feet below him, but she may as well as have been on the moon. She stared back up at him, her face still pale, and a small smile broke out. He noticed with horror that there was blood trickling down her forehead and her cheeks were festooned with scratches and blotched with bloody patches. He swallowed.
‘Special Agent Taklu, how nice to see you!’ She waved demurely. ‘I’m… I’m not scared. Why didn’t you bring your rocket pack?’
He stretched out his arms. ‘Can you reach my hands – then I’ll pull you up here!’
She tried. ‘It’s too far… I can’t reach you. If I stand up…’
She brought up her left leg under her and tried getting up but winced. ‘Ow, I’ve busted this foot,’ she cried, slithering back into a sitting position. She stuck her tongue out and tried the same thing with the other leg as he watched, horrified.
‘What are you doing?’
‘If I stand up, I’ll be able to reach you.’
‘It’s too dangerous.’ He kept the headlamp steady on her and watched as she carefully raised herself up, her good leg and foot wedged in the crotch of the fork, her arms around the branches of the fork. He stretched out his arms towards her as she gingerly freed one arm and stretched it out towards him, the other still twined firmly around the tree fork. For a second their fingertips brushed, and then, throwing caution to the winds, he lurched forward a bit more, his feet digging in, and stretched out. This time his fingers interlocked tightly around hers.
‘Got you!’
‘Uh…’
‘Now the other hand… I have you…’
‘Okay…’ Very slowly, she freed her other arm and reached out, for a moment standing on one leg, and then she toppled forward with a scream, one hand still desperately clutching his. He saw her other arm and hand windmill towards him and grabbed blindly even as she dropped free of the tree and caught it at the wrist. And then she was swinging free, over the void, clinging to his hands, kicking frantically, bouncing off the ridge wall, and screaming again as her bad foot hit the rock face. He slithered forward and dug his toes in desperately, trying to brake the momentum. Fortunately, the slope of the ledge was upwards, which helped him stop.
‘Taklu, don’t let go… I don’t want to fall!’
‘I won’t!’ he shouted. ‘I’ll never let you go!’
And the fog moved in again.
Desperately he wriggled backwards, and hoisted her up, inch by inch, his arms feeling as though they would wrench out of their sockets. She was light, and she was still game, her feet – well, the one good foot – scrabbling frantically for a grip on the ridge wall. And then her head came over the rim of the ridge, she was frowning, grimacing with the effort, and then she saw him and smiled a very tiny smile, but her eyes were enormous with fright. He pulled mightily and she rolled over, and was in his arms, clinging to him and whimpering, trembling as he clutched her, tears streaming down his face.
‘Shroom! Oh my god! Are you okay? Are you okay?’ He was the one who was blubbering.
She just buried her face in his shoulders and shook uncontrollably, huge hiccupping sobs escaping occasionally as he held her tight and tried to control himself and calm her.
‘I wasn’t scared!’ she wept. ‘I’m never scared! Scared is not allowed ever!’
‘You’re the greatest special agent ever!’ he whispered, his voice unsteady. ‘The greatest!’
‘You are too,’ she sobbed. ‘You rescued me.’
‘That’s what partners do.’ He knelt down as she clung on to him. ‘Let me see, you’ve got a nasty cut on your head.’ He groped around and took out his handkerchief and bound her head up the best he could. For a while, he just held her close, she wrapped her arms around him tightly, and all was quiet.
‘Now Special Agent, we have another problem. We have to get back to the path and this ledge is pretty narrow at places.’
‘No problem, I can do it,’ she said, her gumption back. But when she tried to stand, her leg folded up under her. ‘Oww! My ankle!’ It was swollen and purple, and he quickly took off her shoes.
‘Piggyback on me,’ he said. ‘That’s the only way. But first let me take your backpack off. What’s in it?’
‘My torch and an energy bar.’
He took them out, put the energy bar into his pocket, and hooked the torch to his belt. ‘We’ll have to leave the backpack here; it’ll only come in the way or get snagged.’
And even piggybacking would be dangerous, because with her on his back his centre of gravity would shift outwards. For a moment he thought he should leave her here and go and get help, but this was the realm of the leopard and there was no way he was going to abandon her in this desolate place.
‘Okay,’ she said. She climbed onto his back and wrapped her legs firmly around his waist, her chin resting on his right shoulder, her arms clamped around his chest.
‘Here goes, partner! Hold tight!’ he said and began moving sideways along the ledge. Actually, her weight leaning against his back and shoulders pushed him into the ridge wall and improved his balance. Instinctively, she leaned into him as much as she could. This was what papa must have felt like while landing that crippled burning 747, he thought: ‘Will I, won’t I, will I, won’t I make it. Just keep going, step by step, wheels down, flaps in position, line her up, adjust thrust for the missing engine, come on, another step, focus on them, not on what lies below…’
By the time they reached the path, his fingers and palms were raw and bleeding, and his heart drummed like the hooves of a derby winner. At last, he stepped onto the path and she scrambled off his back and sat down heavily while he got his breathing under control. The rain was slanting down heavily now and the clouds had started another round of hide-and-seek. He stared at her. Her face was blood-streaked, her eyes black and still frightened, her complexion pale with shock, the white bandage on her head already staining. But she managed a small crooked smile, and he hugged her again.
‘You gave me the fright of my life, partner,’ he said. That must have been some other dangerous lunatic from some other planet who had thought of pushing her off the ridge… he must have been crazy – this kid was pure gold. Because now, for the first time since Rani had died, he was actually feeling happy. A burden, like a boulder, had lifted from his heart. ‘Come on, we’d better get back on the ridge and make our way back… Hey, let me see your foot.’ Her ankle was swollen blue and she couldn’t put any weight on it. ‘Put your arms around my neck. I’ll carry you up and when we’re on the top, you’ll have to piggyback again.’
‘The Geek Empress is going to court-martial me for sure,’ she said gloomily. ‘It’s going to be the firing squad for me. I’ll be grounded for ever!’ She twined her arms around him and he staggered up the steep path to the ridge top.
‘Uhh, I’m feeling a bit woozy!’ she said, shaking her head.
‘Sit down for a bit.’ Damn, he hadn’t even brought any water. He put her down and cupped his hands and caught the rain, which was coming down steadily. ‘Here,’ he offered, ‘fresh rain water. How’re you feeling? Does it hurt?’
She shook her head valiantly and sipped from his palms. ‘Thanks. I’m feeling better now.’ He took out the energy bar and gave it to her.
‘I’ll have one bite then you have one; we’re partners, remember?’ she said, peeling the bar and taking a bite.
Hell, this child was not meant to get wet, let alone fall off cliffs and get cut on the head and probably concussed and with a possible broken ankle to boot. Then, over the angry roar of the waterfall, there came a sudden dull whump followed by a rumble, like a collapsing mountain. What was that – a landslide? Just what they needed.
‘Shroom, get on my back again and hold tight. Can you carry your torch? Then we’ll have two lights instead of one.’
‘Okay,’ she said.
How he wished that Gudiya and Savita had accompanied her this evening; something for which, again, he was very much to blame. They were going very slow; the path was slippery and treacherous, and twice he nearly twisted his ankle. It took them half an hour to cover a distance they normally did in ten minutes, and it was getting darker by the minute. And then he noticed something strange: there was a change in the sound of the waterfall. Instead of becoming louder and deeper, it was calmer and quieter. It didn’t make sense, until he approached the gorge. His heart missed a beat as they flashed their lights. Hourglass Gorge was blocked by a giant ghostly white boulder. Monica’s Humpty Dumpty rock plugged its mouth like a cork in the mouth of a bottle. Humpty Dumpty had had a great fall but it hadn’t shattered at all, just cracked a bit. Water was spurting madly from the sides, and through a crack in its centre and even over it, but nowhere near the stream’s full volume – which meant the lower path and quicker route to the big house was out of the question.
The water swirled and lashed back and forth like a caged animal, whirlpooling in frustration and pouring down the slope.
Gaurav had no choice but to take the more difficult and treacherous upper path. They joined it at last, and he could walk a little faster now, even as branches whipped his face and the wind keened malevolently through the pines like a chorus of ghosts. Every now and then he stopped for a breather, kneeling down so Shroom could get off and he could stretch his aching shoulders. With the stream backing up and water streaming down the slope at random, there was no way he could get to the lower path from the ‘short cut’ where they had heard the leopard the other night. His only option was to make for Raveena’s and Monica’s forest rest-house at the very end of this path which, under these conditions, would take a good hour-and-a-half. Through the trees, he saw the misty orange glow of the lights of the big house far below. Shroom’s cold face was pressed against his cheek. This girl, he thought yet again, was not meant to get wet in the rain, yet here she was, soaked to the skin, cut and bleeding and with an ankle that seemed broken. She had become quiet too, another sign he didn’t like. If he had someone with him, he could have hoisted her up to the owl cavern and sheltered her there. But alone, in this weather and with her busted ankle, that was not a possibility.
‘We’ll have to go to Miss Raveena’s and Miss Monica’s house,’ he told her. ‘We can’t join the lower path – the stream’s flooded. Hang in there, Special Agent.’
He felt her nod. ‘Yes,’ she murmured, and suddenly yawned. ‘I’m sleepy.
’ She rested her chin against his shoulder.
And then Gaurav thought he was going stark raving mad. On the narrow path ahead, he first saw the aqueous flare of a light through the trees and rain, some distance away.
‘Hey!’ he yelled. ‘Shroom, there’s someone up ahead. Shine your torch. Hey!’
‘Hello!’ It was a faint, wavering call in return, like the call of an animal in distress. His blood ran cold. That voice. He’d know that voice anywhere. But it was impossible.
‘Hey, is someone there?’
The light bobbed closer, the beam wavering through the rain as the person stumbled around the bend, weighed down by a large knapsack. ‘Hello… can you help me, please?’ the figure sobbed in a voice that could belong to only one person in the whole world.
At first it had seemed like some grand romantic adventure. There she was, an intrepid explorer, setting out on an unknown forest track in the mountains, late in the evening in weather that was closing in rapidly, to reunite with her beloved. Dutifully she had tried to call Mr Roy in Delhi to tell him that she had arrived at Anandpur, but hadn’t been able to get through. She would call him when she reached Emerald Eden Estate, she had decided, and trudged ahead. Within fifteen minutes, a fine needle rain had begun, accompanied by a knifing wind, and she had put on her windcheater. Every now and then, the path suddenly vanished in the fog, as she plodded on in the rain, concentrating on the track. The fog had completely muffled the mountain when she reached the bifurcation and she never even realized she had hit a fork. Beside her, a stream ran swiftly and angrily like a massive, never-ending python, foaming and rippling over boulders, carrying leaves and twigs and debris with it; its speed and power had scared her. At places it had overflowed its banks, and tributaries were rushing across the path, which she had to cross. At one such she lost her footing and fell on her bottom with a shriek, skating down some distance with the current, almost waist deep, until her bulging knapsack got wedged between two rocks and jolted her to a halt. Shaking, and soaked, she stood up, gasping with the cold, and carried on. The adventure was going horribly wrong; this was a hike in hell. And so, at the bifurcation, she never saw the path going straight ahead towards the estate, but took the one winding off towards Nandadevi Gram Pathshala and the forest rest-house. She felt relieved because she would be on higher ground as the track snaked steeply uphill. At the bridge, she took a breather, watching the glinting water, and took out her torch. She passed the school and the rest-house without ever seeing them, wrapped up as they were by the clouds. Exhausted and wet, she plodded on, calling out despairingly from time to time. From either side of the narrow track, the dim silhouettes of the pine trees loomed, the branches shivering and swinging malevolently as spirits in the wind, and any minute she expected to hear the deep growl of a bear or a leopard as it leapt out at her and sunk its fangs into her neck. It seemed like the nightmare had been going on forever, and she was about to collapse, when she saw the fuzzy light bobbing through the trees ahead…