Читать книгу The Tara Trilogy 3-Book Bundle - Mahtab Narsimhan - Страница 9

“Let’s go,” Tara muttered to Suraj under her breath after Zarku had walked away.

Suraj was unusually quiet and very pale. Everyone looked the same. Murmurs and whispers spread through the crowd like ripples in a still lake.

“What happened to Ravi?”

“The Vetalas, they’re here.”

“What is going to happen to all of us if we cannot go to the forest? How will we get food and firewood?”

Unease hung in the air like a black cloud. The sky was a deep grey. People drifted away. Tara saw Shiv, Kali, and Layla in the distance. Her father had a deep frown on his face. Kali tried hard to maintain a blank expression, but her eyes sparkled and Layla played with her new bangles.

“Let’s go home, everyone,” Shiv said. “It has been a long day.”

Tara was silent as she walked slowly behind her father. Suraj slipped a small, warm hand in hers. She raised an eyebrow.

“As long as we’re together, Didi, I can be as brave as a lion. I will protect you,” he said with a slight swagger in his walk.

Tara glanced at the scrawny body of her brother as he uttered the words and smiled. He looked more like a weak kitten than a lion.

“Thank you, Suraj,” she answered him with utmost seriousness. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“I love you too, Didi. Even more than mangoes!”

Tara squeezed his hand. She saw the implicit trust in his eyes and made a promise to herself: I cannot fail him! I have to take him to safety and back to our real mother.

Suraj grabbed her hand and pointed.

“Look Didi — Dhruv Nakshatra, the North Star. Let’s make a wish.”

Tara closed her eyes and prayed in earnest.

“Lord Ganesh, keep us safe till we find Mother and Grandfather,” whispered Tara.

“Didi, about Ravi,” Suraj started to say.

“Shhhh, lets not talk about him. Not now,” said Tara gently.

Darkness was seeping across the sky like an inkblot as lizards and crickets heralded the arrival of night. The sweet fragrance of the raat-ki-rani flower scented the air. Tara inhaled deeply.

Suraj stopped and scooped up something from the ground and straightened up.

“What is that?” asked Tara, suspicious of the mischievous glint that had suddenly appeared in Suraj’s eye.

“Shhhhhh, watch!”

He quickened his step and reached Kali’s large back, which swung like a pendulum as she waddled along. Suraj walked up close to her and gently placed a large greyish white lizard on the edge of her pallu, the part of the saree that was draped over her shoulder. He did it so carefully that Kali did not feel a thing.

He waited for Tara to catch up to him, his chest heaving with silent laughter. The lizard hung on to the edge of the saree, swaying precariously from side to side. In a blur of movement it shimmied up the remaining cloth and jumped onto the bare patch on Kali’s shoulder. Kali felt the pattering of tiny feet and clapped her hand to her neck. Her heavy hand landed on the lizard’s head and, dazed, it toppled forward into Kali’s ample bosom. She felt it wriggle next to her skin. She gave a deafening shriek and desperately tried to shake the lizard out of her clothes.

Tara and Suraj had tears running down their faces as they tried to control the hysterical laughter that welled up within them at the sight of that huge mound of flesh, for once, engaging in an activity more strenuous than sitting. After a few minutes of furious groping down the front of her blouse, Kali managed to grab the wretched lizard in her pudgy hand and dump it unceremoniously on the road.

“Bloody lizard,” swore Kali.

She glared at Tara and Suraj, who kept straight faces as they continued walking.

“Come on Kali, it was only a lizard,” said Shiv. “You probably frightened it more than it frightened you.”

A fresh wave of mirth went through Tara and she had to stuff her knuckle in her mouth to stop from giggling.

They reached home just as night fell. A cold wind had started up and they all hurried in and shut the door. Shiv lit the lantern while Tara groped her way into the kitchen to start dinner.

“Get all our things into the shed,” Tara whispered to Suraj as she handed him their shoes in the semi-darkness.

He nodded and ran off.

“Call me as soon as dinner is ready,” snapped a winded Kali, sitting on the cot trying to recover from the lizard encounter.

Tara got to work. Plans of their escape gave her a sense of hope that no amount of unpleasantness could extinguish.

When dinner was ready, Tara called everyone into the kitchen. Kali ignored them completely. Their father had gone out for a short while and returned with troubling news, which he shared with Kali and the children as they ate.

“Ravi is dead. Zarku could not save him.”

“Did Ravi’s family cremate him?” asked Kali.

“Apparently Zarku performed the last rites. He did not want to upset Ravi’s mother by showing her the deformed body again.”

“That is odd, Father, isn’t it?” asked Tara. “Only family members are allowed to set fire to the funeral pyre, not some stranger, even if he is the village healer. It is against tradition.”

Her father frowned at her for interrupting.

“Mohon has disappeared. No one knows where he is,” said Shiv as he tossed a ball of dal and rice in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

“Probably gone to the forest to seek out the Vetalas single-handedly, the fool,” said Kali as she slurped her food.

For some time there was silence. No more was said about the disappearance, but Tara’s stomach churned. Tonight was the last night they would have a roof over their heads. What would they find in the forest? Would she be able to find Prabala and her mother before the Vetalas found them? Her panicked mind darted about like a caged animal. Try as she might, she could not forget Ravi’s mutilated body.

That night, when all were asleep, Tara and Suraj tiptoed into the kitchen and sat by the glowing embers of the kitchen fire.

“Is everything in the shed?” asked Tara. “I’ve made extra food. I’ll pack it and put it into the bundles with a few more things we’re going to need, especially medicinal herbs.”

“Yes, Didi. Can we sleep now?” said Suraj, stifling a yawn.

“Pay attention, Suraj, our lives will depend on how well-prepared we are.”

Chastened, Suraj nodded and promptly propped his eyes open with his thumb and forefinger and goggled at her. Tara could not help but smile.

At long last they finished making the plans. Suraj was half asleep and Tara, too, was tired. They crept into the main room and lay down on the thin mat. Tara’s mind was filled with questions and worries and sleep was a very long time coming.

•••

Dawn arrived clad in a shawl of ice. A chilly wind seeped into the huts as the people of Morni snuggled deeper into their blankets. Goats, cows, and pigs huddled together in their shelters, seeking warmth.

Tara woke especially early, feeling as if she had not slept a wink. Her eyes burned and her head felt as if it was made of lead. The beginning of a massive headache was making its way toward her temples. They had already put on their warm travel clothes the night before. Tara flung her favourite shawl around her shoulders. She was ready.

It was still quite dark. A pale, pink dawn tiptoed along the edge of the horizon. Tara shook Suraj gently. When he was awake, she put a finger to her lips and gestured in the direction of the kitchen. He nodded, picked up his shoes, and padded out silently. Tara stood up and went to where her father lay sleeping. She touched his feet lightly.

“I’ll miss you, Father,” she murmured inaudibly. “But we’re going to look for Mother and we will bring her back. We will be a family again.”

Then, without a backward glance, she crept out to Bela’s shed. Suraj was still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Let’s go,” Tara said. “The sooner we are out of here, the better.”

She handed Suraj the smaller of the two bundles and slung the larger one onto her back. She filled an animal skin with water, and put some milk in a glass bottle. Bela nudged Tara with her cold, wet nose and Tara turned back to hug her, tears in her eyes.

“Take care, Bela. We’ll be back soon. With Mother.”

Brother and sister walked out of the hut as dawn, in a bolder shade of pink, strode out from the horizon to embrace them. They walked east through the deserted village, the quickest route to Morni Hills, beyond which lay the Shivalik Range.

Within the hour they would be out of the village and away from the home they had known all their lives. The huts thinned out as they neared the green band of forest land that lay at the foot of the hills. It grew darker. The trees blotted out the sky and it became colder. The pukka road disappeared and they stepped onto a rough path that led deep into the forest.

Suraj stopped at the edge of the forbidding green mass and looked back. The huts, the village, safety, and security lay behind while danger lay ahead. He looked into Tara’s eyes. She nodded, holding his gaze.

“As long as we’re together, we’ll be all right,” said Tara.

They plunged into the foliage, keeping a sharp eye out for any movement. Mynas, kingfishers, and koyals twittered in the trees, welcoming the morning as the pair walked deeper and deeper into the forest. The sun came out and golden rays filtered in through the dense canopies, creating freckles of light on the grassy floor. The air was thick with the sickly sweet smell of rotting leaves.

“Didi, I have to stop now, I am really tired,” said Suraj after they had been walking for what seemed like hours. He sank down on a grassy hill. Tara was a few steps ahead. She turned around to chide him and screamed.

“Suraj, don’t move!”

Suraj froze. The expression on Tara’s face was one of absolute horror. She advanced slowly, her eyes fixed on a spot above his head.

“Python,” she breathed, clutching her throat.

A large brown and white python was curled around a branch just above Suraj’s head. Its small head swung a hair’s breadth away. It slithered lower. Still lower. Tara could not breathe. Suraj tilted his head back and stared straight into the black beady eyes of the snake. Sensing movement, the python opened its powerful jaws and lunged toward Suraj’s head.

Tara’s and Suraj’s screams echoed through the Kalesar Forest.