Читать книгу The Tara Trilogy 3-Book Bundle - Mahtab Narsimhan - Страница 7

“Why are you looking at me like that?” screamed Kali, her face the colour of soured milk.

“Moti ate the kheer and died. This kheer was made especially for us,” screamed Tara. To kill us, completed the small voice inside her.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” stammered Kali. “You’re talking nonsense! This rabid dog must have eaten some rotten food and died. It had nothing to do with the kheer. Anyway, who says he ate the kheer I made?”

“I saw him,” said Tara, staring at Kali.

The venom in Kali’s eyes shocked her. Tara gathered a bewildered Suraj to her and walked off.

“I’m going to tell Father about this,” Tara called over her shoulder, trying to put as much distance between them as possible.

Kali strode behind Tara. She grabbed hold of Tara’s plait and jerked her around till she was face to face with her. Black eyes bored into soft brown ones.

“You will do nothing of the sort,” Kali hissed. “One word from you and I’ll make both your lives more miserable than they already are. Remember that.”

Tara looked deep into those pitiless eyes and believed her. Kali released Tara, went back into the hut, and slammed the door shut.

I’ll pay you back one day, thought Tara, rubbing her aching scalp. My day will come.

That night, as she lay tossing and turning on the thin mattress, Tara’s thoughts were very troubled. This was a very close call and there was a sinking feeling in her stomach that this attempt on their life was not the last. Nor the first, the small voice piped in. She shivered and gathered Suraj closer to her.

“Didi, why does Mother hate us so much? What have we done wrong?” he whispered in her ear.

Tara heard the deep fear and hurt in his voice.

“I don’t know, Suraj.”

There was no point in lying. The more aware they were of danger, the greater their chances of survival.

“I was so happy when she had made the kheer for us. It felt like our real mother was back. But she was only trying to get rid of us forever. I’m so scared,” he said.

His voice broke and he buried his face in her shoulder, sobbing softly.

Tara closed her eyes and took a deep breath to hold back the tears that threatened to break through her fragile self control. I’m scared too, she thought, but who can I tell?

Trying to keep her voice steady she replied,

“I wish that too, Suraj. But we have to look after ourselves till our real mother comes back. I made a promise to her. And she will be back. I’ll bring her back — I will!”

She looked deep into her brother’s eyes, trying to make him believe.

“Promise me that from now on you will not eat anything that witch gives you. Only what I feed you. Promise me, Suraj, no matter how hungry you are.”

“I promise, Didi.”

“Good. Now go to sleep and let me think. We have to escape as soon as possible. As long as I am here, I’ll not let anything happen to you.”

She smiled at Suraj. He nestled his face against her shoulder and fell asleep, tears still glistening on his thin cheeks. Tara wiped them away gently and cuddled him.

Her mind was a jumble of questions that whirled and bounced around, making her head ache. Should we tell someone in the Panchayat, or should we escape to the forest and take our chances with the wild animals?

On the one hand, the villagers were scared of Dushta the moneylender and his daughter, Kali. Who would side with two children?

But what if they chose to escape to the forest, and Suraj was killed by wild animals? What if she was killed and he was left all alone? And on and on and on. The decision was hers to make.

Her merciless mind pounded her with questions, each one landing like a sledgehammer on her heart. She tossed and turned as her body responded to the writhing of her agonized mind.

Mother, where are you? Tara thought. In her mind’s eye she saw the beautiful Parvati, daughter of Prabala, the most powerful healer in all of India. He was a guru in Ayurveda and blessed by the gods for his intense meditation.

“Mother, if only I could see into the future like you can, I’d know what to do,” sighed Tara.

Tara sat up, too unhappy to sleep. She checked to see if Suraj was asleep and then, making sure that the thin sheet was snug around him, she tiptoed to the kitchen for a drink of water. She eyed the heavy black skillet that lay on the blackened bricks longingly. One hard smack on her head and she would sleep till morning; unconsciousness was also a kind of sleep! She shook her head at her silliness and poured herself water from the earthen pot. The familiar fragrance of wet clay wafted up and she inhaled deeply, feeling a slight sense of calm.

As she sipped water from the glass, she opened the back door for some fresh air and shivered as a cold draft rushed in. She sat down on the doorstep and stared up at a sky awash with stars.

“What am I to do, Mother? Father is useless! Wherever you are, please hear me ... help me.”

She heard her mother’s voice in her mind, almost as if she were sitting next to Tara, whispering in her ear.

“Whenever you need help, Tara, pray to Lord Ganesh. He helps those in trouble and removes the most insurmountable obstacles. Go to his temple and make an offering.”

Tara jumped up. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? She tiptoed to the main room and arranged her pillow under the sheet next to Suraj so no one would notice her absence. Then she crept back into the kitchen and filled a small bowl with sugar to take as an offering to Lord Ganesh. She draped an old shawl around her and silently walked out the back door.

The forest was wide awake. Owls hooted and bats zoomed overhead like black shadows. She heard the steady drone of insects and lizards on their nocturnal forages. Occasionally she heard a deep roar of a tiger and the squealing of a wild pig.

Surrounded by these familiar sounds, she jogged along the path to the temple a short distance away, a full moon lighting the way. The wind rustled through the trees and the shadows stirred around her. She was quite at peace till she heard the sound of feet behind her.

Tara’s heart leapt to her throat. She looked back, straining to see who it was. The road was empty. She sensed something or someone following her and started running. Her leather shoes slapped against the packed mud road as she sprinted for the safety of the temple, looking around her. Shadows moved and melted into each other. She smelt a foul smell, like the time a rat had died in their house.

“Lord Ganesh, look after me,” she prayed as she ran. Thankfully, the footsteps did not follow her up the temple steps. Tara bounded up and stepped through the wooden doors, gasping for breath. On a dais was a large clay figure of a man with a pot belly. The head was that of an elephant. Colourful clay jewels adorned the bare chest and a beautiful crown with multi-coloured stones graced the elephant’s head. Smudges of vermillion powder lay on the forehead and tusk of the deity. He had four hands, each holding a different article. Tara stepped forward and poured the sugar in a small white mound at the feet of Lord Ganesh. She kneeled and whispered a prayer.

“Give me strength, my Lord. What should I do?”

A spitting, hissing sound roused her. She sat up and looked around. In the dim room lit by small clay lamps she saw a cat pawing at something in a corner. Tara picked up a lamp and walked to the back of the room. A small black ball of fur was quivering in the corner: a mouse! The cat pawed and hissed at it. The mouse bared his teeth and then cowered as the cat moved closer.

“Shoo,” said Tara, waving her hand. The cat turned and glared at her with jaundiced eyes. It was a dirty grey, and painfully thin. The mouse emitted a pathetic squeak and the cat turned its attention back to it, ignoring Tara.

“Shoo,” she said again, raising her voice. Balancing on her left foot she slipped off a mojri from her right foot. She brandished it and advanced on the cat.

“Get away, go” she snarled in a low, yet firm, voice and waved the shoe convincingly. The cat spat at her and then slunk away. The mouse was still quivering in the corner. Tara reached out for the bundle of fur. The mouse allowed her to lift him onto her palm. She raised it to eye level and mouthed softly,

“You’re safe now, little mouse. Go home to your family.”

Tara shook her head. I have no one to talk to and now I’m talking to a mouse. The mouse was looking at her earnestly. She lowered her palm to the floor and slid the mouse off it. It streaked to the hole at the foot of the deity and disappeared from sight. Tara put on her shoe and returned to her kneeling position in front of the statue.

“I helped your companion escape today, Lord. Please give us your blessings for our escape.”

It was well-known that a mouse was supposed to be the faithful servant and companion of Lord Ganesh.

Tara touched her forehead to the clay feet one last time and, shuffling backwards to the entrance so that she did not offend the Lord by showing her back to him, she exited the temple.

Outside, she searched the shadows, her heart thumping against her ribcage. She saw no one as she ran down the steps and sprinted home.

As she neared the back door of their hut, she heard voices. Tara stood absolutely still in the shadows, and strained to hear the conversation.

“Fool woman. You have failed yet again,” said a deep voice.

As the voice washed over Tara, she felt as if she was caught in a nasty thunderstorm with needles of ice-cold rain piercing her flesh. It sounded familiar. Where had she heard it before?

“Forgive me, Master, I am trying my best,” a woman’s voice replied in a grovelling tone. “But why can’t you help me?”

Kali! Tara shivered. What had that witch failed to do? And who was she talking to in the middle of the night?

“Shut up, you worthless lump. I have more important things to do. The children must be dead and soon. And,” he continued in an icy tone, “no one must suspect I have had a hand in this. I must see them while their flesh is still warm.”

“But why?” asked Kali.

“One drop of their blood, one tiny bite of their flesh, and I will have partaken of Prabala’s flesh and blood as they are his grandchildren. It will be harder for him to harm me. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” said Kali.

“Ruin my plans, woman, and you will die a very horrible and painful death,” the cold voice continued.

“One chance is all I ask for. Shiv will be going to Ropar this Sunday. I will have all day to carry out your command. This Sunday, Tara and Suraj will be dead.”

Tara almost gasped out loud. Kali and an unknown man were plotting to kill Suraj and her! Now she understood why Kali had made the kheer. She clenched her teeth to stop them from chattering. Bile rose in her throat and she had to swallow hard to stop it from flooding her mouth. Black spots danced in front of her eyes. They had three days to live before Kali carried out her evil plan.

“Till Sunday, then. I will return at midnight. You had better have two corpses to show me. Don’t forget, you have everything today because of me. I could take it away in the blink of an eye,” said the voice.

Tara stood still as she heard footsteps crunch and fade into the night. Kali went back into the house. Tara forced herself to wait till Kali fell asleep. The cold and the fear of what she had heard made it unbearable. After a long time, she slipped in quietly through the back door. Kali was snoring.

Should we run away right now? She had just extended her hand to wake Suraj when she thought about the Vetalas. Her courage melted away. One more night: they’d stay one more night and then they’d go. It would at least give her time to gather clothes, medicine, and food to survive in the forest.

If they didn’t escape by Sunday, their fate would be sealed. Kali would see to it.