The Trickster

by Vinaya Bhagat

  ‘There is a smaller gate down the mountain; we can try that,’ Ronnie said. ‘If you want, you can stay here in the shadows while I check.’

  ‘I did not break out of jail and endure that hair-raising ride on your motorcycle to come and wait here. The girls need help, so let’s get going.’

  To show Ronnie that he was not just a weak old man, Diya’s grandfather took the lead as soon as he spied the small gate.

  ‘Wait!’ Ronnie pulled the old man back into the shadows. He had not forgotten the feral dogs or Raghav’s declaration that the dogs roamed the estate at night.

  ‘Yes, I almost forgot about the dogs,’ Diya’s grandfather said. ‘The man in prison warned me about them.’ He threw a stone at the gate; an unmistakable growl responded.

  ‘Where is it?’ Ronnie said.

  ‘There!’ Diya’s grandfather pointed to a dark shadow behind the lattice gate. The dog stood with its front paws on top of the gate and looked over with bared fangs.

  Was there more than just one dog? They scanned the gate for its companions, the dog was alone.

  ‘Do you see that?’ Diya’s grandfather whispered, pointing to something that glinted in the night.

  ‘What?’

  ‘The dog is chained to the gate.’ The old man smiled. ‘Give me that stick.’

  He crept through the shadows, keeping out of the dog’s sight. He hooked the stick through the slack chain and pulled hard. The dog growled as the chain tightened. The old man knew the dog would not bark and betray their presence. The man in prison had told him that the dogs were bred to remain silent. Other than the menacing low-pitched growl, the dog did not make any other sound.

  ‘I am going to pull the chain so that the dog cannot move. You jump over the gate and go inside,’ Diya’s grandfather said.

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘Have you forgotten what I just said or didn’t you understand? I will follow.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Don’t worry about me; you go ahead.’

  Ronnie hesitated.

  ‘Don’t tell me you are afraid of dogs,’ Diya’s grandfather taunted.

  Ronnie ran to the gate as Professor Mishra pulled in the chain. He climbed over and jumped clear to the other side. The professor hooked the chain over the low branch of a nearby tree and followed Ronnie over the gate.

  The old man was aware that the dog was struggling to free itself as he climbed over the gate. The branch holding the chain snapped with a sharp crack, loud as a bullet. He heard the dog’s feet skitter over the loose pebbles on the path behind him. He ran as he had never run in his life. The dog’s wet drool splashed on the back of his leg and slid down between his foot and the sandal.

  His feet left the ground; he was sure the dog would be upon him, but he did not make contact with the ground. A strong pair of arms grabbed him mid-air and carried him to safety.

  ‘I thought my number was up,’ Professor Mishra panted. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Anytime,’ Ronnie said.

  The dog strained but the leash held.

  Ronnie’s heart was still racing as they ran up the path. The grounds were dark, but he did not want to switch on the torch and advertise their presence. The path forked, one curving into the woods and the coffee plantation, the other leading to a flight of stone steps towards the buildings on the hill. They were two steps short of the top when a flash of light stopped them in their tracks.

  Two figures stood briefly silhouetted against the night sky. The figures ran down the hill and vanished into the coffee plantation.

  Ronnie recognized Diya’s curly hair tied in a ponytail. The other girl must be Rini. Until that moment, he had felt like a fool. He was willing to chalk the presence of the dog to Raghav’s weirdness. The encounter with the dog had felt more like a risky adventure. Now, pure terror gripped his heart at the sight of the two girls running away from the safety and comfort of a lighted house into the dark depths of the plantation. His heart skipped a beat and thudded in his chest.

  ‘Did you see them?’ he whispered.

  ‘Yes, one was Diya and the other must be your sister. The game is already afoot.’ The old man dragged Ronnie away from the steps. ‘We have to find them quickly.’

  They ran down the steps.

  ‘We cannot make our presence known till we are in a position to help them.’

  They went back to the path they had abandoned. They had to reach the part of the plantation behind the hillock where the two figures had vanished.

  In the shadow of the mountains, the woods were dark as soot. Fog swirled like steam off a hot cup of coffee. The tendrils wound through the trees making the ghostly shapes seem like animals on the prowl. Once or twice, Ronnie thought he saw the two girls but he was not sure if his eyes were tricking him.

  They stumbled and tripped over branches and roots. Ronnie was tempted to switch on the torch several times, not for his sake but for the old man, but Diya’s grandfather was adamant.

  ‘We can’t take any chances, because this is not an ordinary enemy; he is a wily trickster.’

  HIDE AND SEEK

  I

  n their hurry to get away from the house and its occupant, Diya and the woman took the nearest path into the trees.

  That was their first mistake.

  They crashed through the trees, slipping on loose stones and tangled roots. They heard the cottage door bang shut and a light stab the night. The woman fell a few times as her night gown caught in the branches as they ran headlong towards the dense sanctuary of the coffee plantation.

  That was their second mistake.

  Their pursuer was on their heels; he no longer called out to Diya pretending to be Raghav.

  ‘Stop!’ Diya panted with her arms on her hips. ‘He can outrun us; we must hide.’

  They walked cautiously between the plants with their arms close to their body so as to not disturb the branches that would give away their position. Their pursuer was still crashing through the plants.

  ‘He will know that we went to the cottage for guns; now he must think we will either go to the house or back to the mountains. But we will go to the small gate instead,’ the woman whispered.

  ‘How will we get past the dog without a gun?’

  ‘You hit it with the golf club while I kill it,’ the woman said.

  For a moment, Diya was afraid the woman would turn into a monster with huge sharp claws, the ones that had torn Mrs Bhat limb from limb and cut Raghav’s foot from his body.

  ‘How will you kill it?’

  ‘With a sickle.’

  ‘Where will you get a sickle?’ Diya asked.

  ‘Over there.’ The woman pointed to a sickle sticking into a plant. ‘Someone must have forgotten it.’ The woman smiled. ‘There is still hope. I am not ready to give up and I will not allow you to give up!’

  Diya crawled over to the plant and retrieved the sickle from its branches, thanking their unknown benefactor. She did not hand the sickle to the woman.

  He had underestimated the girl. She was full of tricks, just like her mother. He had never lost. Hadn’t he caught her mother in the end? His body tingled with excitement and the thrill of the chase.

  Diya and the woman crouched, sometimes even crawling on hands and knees as they made their way through the plantation. Their pursuer too adopted stealth.

  They moved silently through the maze of pathways between the ripening coffee beans, listening for sounds of pursuit.

  Diya and the woman retreated to the hideaway under the plants and waited. The ground was still moist from the previous night’s rain. The soil under the plants, a combination of rotting fruits and wet mulch, stank worse than fermenting coffee beans.

  Diya breathed through lightly parted lips and hoped she would not puke and give away their position.

  The man was no longer running but he did not bother to mask the sound of his footsteps.

  Crack! A stick snapped under a heavy foot. Diya could see the tip of a heavy leather boot
.

  The man had entered the path where they were hiding.

  He was dressed in jeans and leather boots. The feet stopped in the middle of the path inches away from Diya’s hiding place under the coffee plants.

  Her mouth felt dry and the cold air hurt her teeth. A sharp stone stuck into her thigh through the thin fabric of her jeans.

  Diya repressed a shudder as something crawled up her arm, to her shoulder and cheek.

  The feet pointed the right way. What if the man was telling the truth and he was really Raghav?

  Doubts once again assailed Diya. She gripped the sickle tighter.

  Diya willed the man not to look under the plants.

  The feet moved away.

  She peeked from her hiding place and saw the man turn left, away from them into the next path. He seemed to be methodically searching the paths. They gave him a few minutes before coming out. Diya examined the ground, but there were no footprints on the mulch-covered ground.

  Diya and the woman walked through the plantation in the opposite direction, away from their pursuer.

  Soon the plantation came to an end and they merged with the path the workers took every day. The path too was dark, but at least it was free of obstacles. Diya looked at her companion; the woman was panting. There were bloody scratches on her face and arms.

  ‘Let’s follow the path for a while; I don’t think he will expect us to be here in the open,’ Diya suggested.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes.’

  The path curved around the hill. There was a small temple at that point; they had a good view of both sides from there. In the distance, Diya could see the parked plantation trucks.

  ‘Let’s go inside,’ Diya said. She needed time to think and evaluate their options. The temple was not big, but they could easily duck inside.

  Maybe there was another way of going out of the gate while still staying out of the dog’s reach. If they could reach the parked vehicles and start one, then she could smash through the gate without fear of the dog.

  The plan was ridiculous. She had never driven a vehicle with manual gearshift, let alone drive it down a steep mountain at night. Even if she could start a truck and they did manage to evade the Chakwa, it was highly likely that they would still wind up dead.

  Tears stung Diya’s eyes. Their situation was hopeless. Death seemed inevitable.

  Her companion seemed to sense her despair. The woman put her arm around Diya’s shoulder and patted her head.

  Diya looked into the woman’s deep brown eyes; they were no longer terrified.

  The woman smiled. ‘Everything will be all right.’

  Diya wished she could believe her rescuer. She forced a tired smile.

  The woman placed a finger on Diya’s lips and tugged at her arm, pulling her deeper into the dark temple, into a small alcove behind the idol.

  A stab of a blinding light followed a heavy footstep. Someone climbed up the stairs and a man’s bulk filled up the narrow confines of the tiny temple. He shone the light everywhere but they remained undiscovered in the small space in God’s shadow.

  The light wavered and turned off.

  They heard the man’s laboured breathing in the silent night. He seemed to be debating whether to check inside or move on.

  A loud commotion broke the silence. The man ran out.

  They stayed still, in case it was a trick and the creature had created the diversion.

  ‘Diya!’ Ronnie called.

  Diya huddled closer to the wall. It could not be Ronnie. It had to be the Chakwa. Since it could not come in, it was tricking her into stepping outside by pretending to be Ronnie.

  ‘Diya, are you there?’ her grandfather called.

  Was she hallucinating? How could her grandfather be here?

  This had to be another trick.

  ‘Diya, don’t be afraid. He is gone,’ her grandfather whispered.

  ‘Diya, he may come back any minute. Let’s go,’ Ronnie said. ‘I …’ The low hum of a phone filled the air.

  ‘There is another gate on the left; we are there, but don’t go near the gate. A dog is tied there.’ Ronnie was talking to someone.

  She couldn’t hide there forever, and if it were really Ronnie and her grandfather, it would be foolish to stay. With them around, her chances of survival were higher. Diya gripped the golf club and the sickle and crept out of her hiding place.

  Ronnie was still talking on his phone while her grandfather kept watch with a stout stick in hand. Diya took the precaution of glancing at their feet before coming out. Both men turned around to look at her, and the look on their faces was enough.

  ‘Be careful with that thing,’ her grandfather warned as Diya flung herself into his arms.

  Diya hugged Ronnie next. He held her tight. She had been afraid she would not survive but the comforting presence of Ronnie and her grandfather had given her hope. The warm strength of Ronnie’s arms was soothing to her fear-frayed nerves.

  ‘We are still not out of danger; all this can wait,’ Diya’s grandfather said.

  Diya and Ronnie broke apart.

  ‘What are you doing here? How did you get out?’

  ‘That’s a long story, I will tell you some other time. Now, can we go?’

  ‘One minute,’ Diya said.

  She turned back towards the temple but the woman had not followed her.

  ‘Please come out, we are safe.’ Diya called into the dark temple but the woman did not come out.

  Was she her mother’s spirit who had saved her and now vanished? Diya hoped the woman was real; that her mother had indeed survived.

  Maybe she was afraid of the two strange men. ‘Don’t be afraid; my grandfather and my friend are here to help us.’

  The woman came out of the temple with her head down. She did not say a single word and stayed with her face averted.

  ‘Who is she?’ Ronnie whispered.

  ‘She saved my life,’ Diya replied.

  ‘But who is she?’

  ‘I don’t know Ronnie.’

  ‘Where is Rini?’

  ‘Rini?’

  ‘Wasn’t she with you?’

  ‘Why would you think that?’

  ‘We saw two figures running into the plantation and assumed it was you and Rini.’

  ‘Why would Rini be here?’ Diya asked, but she knew. Her heart sank at the thought that once again, because of her, someone else was in peril.

  ‘She told mother she was meeting us and we were going to the fair. She left home at 6 p.m. and since then her phone has been switched off.’

  ‘What makes you think she is here?’

  ‘Baba thinks she is here.’ Ronnie sounded doubtful.

  ‘Why don’t you, Baba, and the lady go out to the car while I search for Rini?’

  ‘I am not going anywhere without finding Rini,’ Professor Mishra said.

  ‘Me either,’ Diya added.

  ‘There is a girl in the woods.’ The woman spoke for the first time. Her voice was barely audible. She had retreated further into the shadows.

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I saw him take her into the woods.’

  ‘When?’ Diya asked.

  ‘Before I came to get you; I thought it was you so I went to check, but the girl was smaller and she had her hair tied in two long braids.’

  ‘That sounds like Rini,’ Ronnie said.

  ‘What are we waiting for then? Let’s go get her,’ Professor Mishra said.

  Diya looked at her companions, wondering if all of them would survive unscathed from their journey through those dark woods. She was certain the woods were the Chakwa’s lair.

  INTO THE WOODS

  T

  he woods were different from the forest they had escaped into earlier in the night. The trees were a mix of young and old, covering the ground with their gnarly root traps. Vines snaked up the thick tree trunks, their huge leaves panning in the wind like gently flapping elephant ears.

 
The previous night rain and the accumulated moisture of the day were still dripping from some of the trees. Rotting leaves and broken branches littered the moss-covered ground under the trees.

  ‘What is that smell! Stinks worse than the prison toilet,’ Diya’s grandfather wrinkled his nose.

  The smell was worse than the mulch-covered earth under the coffee plants where Diya had hidden just a few minutes ago.

  Was the woman leading them into a trap?

  They came to a small clearing. Here the air was thick with the potent smell of decay. Rotting leaves and mutilated animal carcasses littered the ground.

  ‘This is not how it was. This is something new,’ the woman said.

  ‘You said you came here this evening,’ Ronnie said. ‘How can it change in just a few hours?’

  ‘I have not been here in decades,’ the woman said. ‘I only saw him carry the girl into the forest.’

  Was the woman telling the truth or did she know something about these killings? Was this woman with a mutilated face the trickster, who had lured them all into her lair?

  Diya cursed herself for not having ditched the woman in the temple and escaping with Ronnie and her grandfather. She had put everyone’s life at risk. But how could she abandon her rescuer?

  ‘Who has killed all these animals?’ Professor Mishra bent to examine the carcass.

  They skirted the clearing and followed the woman through the forest. Diya moved closer to her grandfather, ready to pull him out of harm’s way if her suspicions were correct and the woman was the Chakwa.

  The stench of rotting remains subsided as they moved farther from the clearing. Once again, the dark forest closed in around them with its damp clinging tendrils.

  ‘Wait!’ Ronnie hissed. ‘I think someone else is in the woods.’

  Something was crawling through the undergrowth, softly hissing threats. Then the hissing morphed into a buzzing, as if a swarm of angry hornets was hovering overhead.

  ‘What kind of a place is this?’ Professor Mishra muttered.

  The buzzing changed to heavy footfalls of a large animal stomping through the forest.

  The stomping slowed and softened as if the creature had morphed back into a legless being slithering through the undergrowth.