Читать книгу The Tara Trilogy 3-Book Bundle - Mahtab Narsimhan - Страница 11

“CRACK!” A huge sound reverberated overhead as if the sky had broken into two.

Oh no, thought Tara. It’s going to rain and we have no shelter.

The sound of thunder rolled across the sky and jagged lightning stretched from one end of the horizon to the other. A soft pattering started and a cool wind swept through the trees. A few drops of cold rain touched their faces. Tara shivered. Without further warning, the skies opened and needles of rain came hurtling down, drenching everything with an equal mercilessness.

Within seconds, Tara and Suraj were soaked. The rain had come so suddenly that they had had no time to pull out the reed mats from their bundles. Their icy clothes clung to their wet skin as they pressed closer to each other, huddled under the tree. It afforded very little shelter and the rain continued unabated. Tara tugged at the bundle she carried but she was shivering so much that she could barely undo the knot. She gave up and moved closer to Suraj. After a few hours that seemed like an eternity to them, the deluge stopped. It was pitch black. Water dripped steadily onto the forest floor. The sounds of the night prowlers came back in full force.

Cold and shivering, they waited for daylight. The forest was alive around them, roaring, hooting, slithering, and howling. They jumped each time the noise came too close. Occasionally, Tara heard the squeal or yelp of a helpless animal uttering its last cry. She wondered how long it would be before it was their turn. She chanted every prayer she knew, to every deity they had ever worshipped, with a special prayer to Lord Ganesh.

“Didi, please can we light a fire now?”

“No Suraj, there are too many wild animals around. We cannot risk it.”

“But I’m s-soo cold,” he stuttered, his teeth chattering.

Tara cuddled him and massaged his thin body energetically. Cold, wet, and exhausted, they finally fell asleep.

•••

When Tara awoke, it was noon. The sun was directly overhead and it caressed her with warm fingers of golden light from between the treetops, driving away the chill in the air. Suraj was nowhere in sight. Tara looked around, her heart hammering.

“Suraj,” she croaked. Then louder, “Suraj, where are you?”

A tuft of black hair peeked out from a sal tree directly in front of her, followed by twinkling eyes and an impish grin.

“Good morning, Didi. I was searching for some dry wood to start a fire. Let’s eat, I’m sooooo hungry.”

When she saw him, Tara let out a deep breath. They had both survived the first night in the forest. She stood up and stretched her stiff limbs. She undid one of the bundles and pulled out a small steel vessel. Suraj had already arranged three flattish rocks for a makeshift fireplace. Tara poured enough water to make tea. Using one of the matches, she lit a small fire with the dry twigs Suraj had gathered. She huddled close to the fire so that her damp clothes could dry out. Suraj hugged his knees, staring into space.

“Didi, about last night ...”

Tara shot him a sharp look.

“Zarku is the one turning the villagers into Vetalas. He’s the one pretending to cure them, too.”

“Yes,” said Tara.

“Shouldn’t we go back and warn Rakaji?”

Tara continued making the tea, turning the question over in her mind.

“Grandfather is our only hope. We have to find him — fast!”

“Where will we find him, Didi? The forest is so big.”

“We’ll start at the Devi Temple. He meditated there years ago.”

The water started boiling. Tara poured some milk and added four teaspoons of sugar. The brown liquid bubbled up to the top of the vessel like a small volcano spewing brown lava. She lifted it off the fire using the edge of her shawl and placed it on the ground to cool. She took a few chappatis from the bundle and flipped them on to the warm rocks. Within seconds they were toasty brown. She called Suraj and they sat down cross-legged near the warm fire to enjoy their simple breakfast. The vessel had cooled sufficiently and they took turns dipping the chappatis into the tea and sipping it straight from the vessel. Around them, sunlight swirled and danced as a light wind rustled the treetops. An occasional leaf drifted loose and spiralled lazily to the forest floor. Tara revelled in the serenity and freedom, free from constant abuse, free from painful taunts, and free from the endless housework. She could not remember when last she had enjoyed a meal in such peace.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. A distant growl reminded her that she did not have all day to dream. She jumped up and started packing.

“We have to find shelter today, Suraj. We were lucky last night. We may not be as lucky again.”

Suraj nodded. He was enjoying his freedom, too. He ran from one shrub to another, examining the colourful flowers that had sprouted in the aftermath of the rain. He jumped up to catch a yellow and black butterfly. A burst of red, yellow, and green sailed from one tree to another.

“Parrots,” said Suraj, pointing.

“Come on, Suraj, we have no time to waste.”

They walked with a spring in their step, energized by the breakfast and the cool morning, and headed north toward the purple smudge of hills in the distance.

The land was gradually sloping upwards. A few hours passed as they traipsed on. They saw monkeys, deer, a few squirrels, and a couple of brown hares along the way, but no shelter. Suraj was starting to lag behind.

“Hurry up, Suraj. Why are you so slow?”

“I’m so tired, Didi, and I feel funny.”

Tara frowned as she came up to him and touched his forehead. He seemed warm. Could it be the exertion of carrying the heavy bundle?

“Let’s rest for a short while.”

They chanced upon a small, cold stream that bubbled through the thick foliage. Tara would never have discovered it if she had not stepped into it and felt the cold water trickle into her shoe. Both knelt, scooped the water into their cupped hands, and let it trickle down their parched throats. Tara filled up their animal skin with the water and then bathed Suraj’s warm forehead and face. He was looking flushed and her heart thudded with anxiety. They had started late in the day and evening was already upon them. If they did not find a place to shelter soon ...

Suraj dragged his feet for the next couple of hours as Tara peered at every crevasse and crack with hopeful eyes. Once again, night threw her black cloak around them and the light went out like a snuffed candle. The night chorus started.

Suraj was sagging against Tara now and she was very worried. She put a hand to his forehead. He was burning with fever.

Oh no, not now. Not when we are so exposed, thought Tara in despair. She would have to get Suraj comfortable and bring his fever down. She headed for the nearest tree and sat Suraj down. She dug into her bundle and groped for matches. She knew the fire would attract animals, but she had to boil herbs for medicine to bring down Suraj’s fever. Tara said a fervent prayer as she undid the bundle of dry twigs they had gathered earlier that morning and struck the match to give her some light. A distance away from the tree she put down a few twigs and threw the lit match on them. They caught fire immediately and within a few minutes she had a strong fire going.

“Suraj,” she whispered. “Suraj, talk to me.”

He mumbled incoherently under his breath. Tara laid him down on his warm bedding and covered him with a blanket. She propped his head up and poured some water into his mouth. He was unable to swallow and the water trickled out the side. With growing apprehension, Tara realized that he was very sick.

“Please Lord Ganesh, make him well again. I need him. I can’t do this alone. I just can’t!”

Tears slid down her cheeks as she cradled Suraj’s head and prayed. Suraj moaned in his sleep. I have to try and get some medicine into him, Tara thought.

She reached for the small bag of herbs and undid the knot with shaking fingers. In it were a few pale yellow fruits: dried amla and dried fronds of the tulsi plant. She took one of each and carefully wrapped up the bundle of precious medicinal herbs and put them away. Tara put on some water to boil, dropped the amla and tulsi into it, and watched as the mixture turned a yellowish brown.

Suraj tossed and turned, muttering nonsensical things. Tara darted anxious looks in his direction.

“Let me go ... Mother where are you?” Suraj muttered. “I’m coming, wait for me.”

Tara took the vessel off the fire with shaking hands. Her mother had taught her that the forest had all that one ever needed: food, medicine, and shelter. Tara had often watched her make complicated medicines from common plants and herbs to cure the villagers. The tulsi and amla plants were well known for their therapeutic effects on fevers and colds. She was thankful that she had had the presence of mind to pack them.

Darkness lapped at the edges of the fire. She looked around uneasily as she waited for the water to cool. Now and then she saw movement: glinting red and yellow eyes. Nothing came close and she was relieved. She could not have warded off the attack of a wild beast just then. She tested the water with her forefinger. It was lukewarm. She took it to where Suraj lay and, cradling his head in her lap, tilted the vessel so that the liquid trickled into his mouth.

Suraj gagged, spluttered, and sat up weakly as the water shot straight out of his mouth. He fell back on the bed, breathing heavily.

“You have to drink this, Suraj. Come on, please try,” pleaded Tara.

She wiped his mouth with the edge of her shawl and tried again. Once again, Suraj coughed and spluttered, but not a drop of medicine went down his throat. Finally, she took the edge of her shawl and dipped it into the water. She gently squeezed the drops into Suraj’s mouth and waited till he swallowed. Painstakingly, she fed him the medicine, drop by drop, till half the liquid was in him. Suraj was breathing peacefully, now in a deep sleep. She moved a strand of hair from his damp forehead and, leaning forward, kissed him. She sat with her back to the trunk, ready for a night-long vigil. Distant roaring and snarling kept her from dozing off.

She stared into the fire, watching the flames reaching up to the night sky, occasional sparks swallowed by the darkness.

“I should never have left home. I am responsible if he dies.”

“Didi,” said Suraj in a faint voice.

“Yes, Suraj,” she said, crawling to where he lay.

“Didi, I’m so tired. I want to sleep forever and ever.”

“WHAT?” she said, fear clutching her heart. She shook him gently. “Suraj, don’t say that. You’ll get well soon. You must. Talk to me ... SURAJ!”

She cradled his head in her hands and gazed intently at the flushed face. His eyes were already closed and even as she uttered the words, a sense of foreboding gripped her. She lay down next to Suraj and hugged his burning body to hers as tears streamed down her cheeks unchecked.

“Don’t leave me, little brother. Please don’t leave me.”

•••

The long night marched steadily toward dawn. Several times she saw gleaming yellow eyes in the gloom around her. The small golden-orange fire bobbed like a boat of light, adrift on a turbulent sea of darkness. A light fog sent wispy fingers curling around them so that Tara seemed to be looking through a gauze veil.

She sat up and occasionally walked around to keep awake, but as dawn approached, the urge to sleep was so overpowering that she closed her eyes, telling herself it was only for a short while. The last thing she saw as her eyelids drooped was Suraj. His forehead had turned a silvery black. His eyes had disappeared. How could that be? She forced her eyelids to open. A black band on his head? And it was moving? It was the last thing she remembered before she fell into a deep sleep.