Praise for
ASHA & THE SPIRIT BIRD
Winner of the Costa Children’s Book Award 2019 Winner of the Times Children’s Fiction Competition 2017 Chosen as one of the Guardian’s best children’s books of 2019 Shortlisted for the Waterstones Children’s Book Prize 2020
‘This book is such a light-filled, huge-hearted delight of an adventure.’
KATHERINE RUNDELL
‘A beautifully evocative adventure, complete with prowling tigers and mystical vultures, that follows a young girl’s journey through the Himalayas to find her father.’
ABI ELPHINSTONE
‘This jewel of a book, suffused with colour, warmth, hope and, of course, edge-of-your-seat adventure, is the perfect holiday read. Every school should have a copy.’
LAUREN ST JOHN
‘High stakes set against a vividly evoked setting, steeped in wild mysticism. I was swept along by Asha’s story from the first page.’
SARAH DRIVER
‘An evocative debut novel . . . satisfyingly classic in feel.’
THE GUARDIAN
‘. . . a heartfelt and mystical children’s adventure story.’
THE TELEGRAPH
‘. . . weaves themes of faith, friendship and greed into a vibrant adventure with a rich seam of magic realism.’
THE BOOKSELLER
‘[A] warm, comforting story . . . the final ending is as perfect as any fairy tale.’
BOOKTRUST
A MESSAGE FROM CHICKEN HOUSE
Tamarind never knew her Indian mum. Now, she’s visiting her ancient ancestral home for the first time, uncovering a family feud, and a long-buried secret tangled up in the huge, overgrown gardens. Here she finds friendship, jealousy and a mystical guiding hand leading her to the truth about what happened in the past . . . and how the future can be healed. Jasbinder Bilan is a brilliant new talent who mingles a mystical magical realism with all the warmth and compassion of real life. She wanted me not to forget to mention the monkey – a helper in more ways than one. There, I did!
BARRY CUNNINGHAM
Publisher
Chicken House
Contents
Map
Tamarind’s Maternal Family Tree
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Letter from the Author
About the Author
Copyright
This book is dedicated to my dearest mum, Gurjinder, who knows what it means to grow up without a mother and has opened her beautiful heart to everyone.
A mother is always the beginning.
AMY TAN, THE BONESETTER’S DAUGHTER
There’s a small photo I keep on my bedside table; it’s old and crinkly with a neat fold along the left-hand corner. In the photo Mum’s about my age, but I can’t really tell if I look like her because the photograph’s taken from a long way off. She’s on a home-made swing and it’s fixed to a huge tree in full blossom. Her legs are waving in the air, and behind her I can just make out a house with a verandah all around it. I love this photo because Mum’s full of life, but it makes me cry that I never got to know her or hold her hand or snuggle into her shoulder.
It’s the only thing of Mum’s that Dad would let me have, the last gift she ever gave him, and I’m keeping it safe for both of us.
I don’t know what happened to Mum, Dad won’t tell me much – all he’ll say is she was poorly, and died when I was a baby. But now, for the first time, I’m going to find out. The thing is, I’m not sure I want to. I slip Mum’s photo from the back of my passport and hold it in my palm, shuffle away from Chloe and turn to face the aeroplane window. I don’t want her quizzing me again, asking me more questions about how I’m feeling. Being all motherly.
I flick her a quick look but she doesn’t see; she carries on reading, absorbed in the book, long blond hair hiding her freckled face. Do we look like a family when we’re out together? Me and Dad with our golden skin; Chloe, who goes raspberry red at the sight of the sun?
Dad leans across, taps me on the shoulder. ‘Mint?’ he asks, shoving a bag of sweets under my nose. ‘We’ll be landing in Rinigaar soon, and remember about ears popping?’
My stomach turns a double somersault when I think about staying with Mum’s family all by myself. I hold Dad’s gaze, plead with his warm brown eyes that everyone tells me are just like mine, and hope he’s going to change his mind about leaving me there alone. He pulls a funny face and his dimples appear.
Chloe puts her book down and digs into the mints. ‘Mmmm . . . these are yum. Have one, Tam, they haven’t got any gelatine in. I double-checked.’ She smiles at Dad and glances down at the photo.
I move further towards the window and slide the photo away, putting everything back in my green Scandi rucksack.
‘Dad always gets the ones without gelatine.’ I take a mint and put it in my mouth.
Chloe ties back her hair and fiddles with her wedding ring. ‘I’ve been learning a few new veggie recipes too. I think it’s great to eat less meat.’
I keep looking out of the window. When she was just Dad’s girlfriend, we were OK, but ever since they married and she moved in, it’s been so different. I know she’s my new mum now, but what does that even mean? And lately I just can’t seem to be nice to her.
Dad’s voice jolts me from my worries. ‘Tamarind. Chloe’s talking to you.’
I try to swallow the lump that’s been burning my throat since we set off on this journey. If I was still five, I’d jump up and down and throw my things around, maybe even scream until Dad calmed me down, but instead I curl even further towards the window, stare at the clouds that stretch on and on and the blue sky above them. ‘Thank you,’ I croak.
Would Mum have checked my food for gelatine? Would she have loved me even through my tantrums?
I’ve thought about Mum my whole life, even though she hasn’t been there: I’ve never given her daffodils on Mother’s Day or made her a special card. There’s a painful space inside me, and the closer we get to India and the family she left behind, the more tangled it’s feeling.
Dad gives me his stern face. ‘Let’s go for a little walk.’ He nods at Chloe. ‘We won’t be long.’
My stomach churns. I scoot past Chloe and follow Dad towards the loos at the back of the plane.
He holds my shoulders gently and stoops so our faces are close. ‘I know this is hard, Tam.’
I feel my face flush, take a long breath and chew the edge of my thumb.
‘I know you’re scared, but everything will be OK. Chloe just wants to be the best mum to you . . . give her a chance.’
I kick at the carpet with the toe of my trainer, close my eyes and blink away the tears that have been waiting to fall. ‘What happened to my real mum? I need to know.’ I brush my cheeks roughly with the back of my hand. ‘I’ll be meeting the family any minute and I still don’t know a thing. What did she die of?’
Dad’s face softe
ns but he doesn’t answer my question. ‘Take a deep breath.’ He pulls me towards him and gives me a big hug. He smells of mints and aftershave, washing powder and home.
It’s like he wants me to forget my question – but I don’t give up. ‘I need to know a bit more than I met Mum while I was backpacking in the Himalaya,’ I mumble into his shirt. I push him away. ‘I want to know what she was like. Please. It’s your job to tell me!’
‘Look. Your mum loved you to bits, and one day when you’re a bit older I’ll tell you everything, but for the moment . . .’ He pushes his fingers through his hair. ‘I don’t want to upset you.’
But it seems to me like he’s the one who’s getting upset.
Once the plane has landed I try to get my jittery insides in order, but they keep knotting up. I feel I’m being thrown into a firepit of the unknown; meeting Mum’s family for the first time, seeing India, the place where I was born. I don’t know if I can do it all by myself.
We collect our cases and Dad leads us through into the main part of the airport. I wish he would slow down but he’s striding ahead, looking for the family. I hurry along the slippery floor after Dad, my wheelie case swooshing behind me, trying to keep up. The air is so thick I can hardly breathe, and it’s so noisy. I have to keep pulling at my clothes to stop the heat sticking them to my skin.
‘There they are.’ Dad heads off again, towards a woman dressed in a purple sari with gold embroidery along the edge. She’s got a happy smile on her face and is looking right at me, waving both arms in the air to catch our attention. Beside her is a boy a bit younger than me. He’s wearing long blue shorts with trainers and an orange T-shirt with a drawing of a skateboarder on it. He’s staring at the ground but as we approach he holds up a huge handwritten sign:
Welcome to India, Tamarind
It brings me out in an instant embarrassed rash and I duck behind Dad.
‘It’ll be fine, Tamarind,’ says Chloe, hooking her arm through mine. ‘We’ll be back before you know it.’
I wriggle free from her and accidentally kick my case. ‘Ow . . .’
‘Careful, Tam,’ says Dad, shepherding me towards the sign.
How could they do this to me? How would they feel, being dumped off with strangers in a foreign country and left to it? This horrible mess is all Chloe’s fault.
I mean, what am I going to say to people I’ve never met before? A whole week alone with them and I don’t even speak Punjabi. The thought suddenly occurs to me with horror – maybe they don’t speak any English!
Suddenly, I’m standing in front of them and they’re smiling at me, so even though I don’t want to do what Dad taught me, I put my hands together, and find myself saying, ‘Sat sri akaal,’ not sure if they understand my English Punjabi accent.
The boy puts his hand up to his mouth and giggles. ‘Nice try! High five,’ he says in perfect English, giving me a cheesy grin as he holds up his palm. My cheeks go hot – it wasn’t that funny, was it? ‘I’m Arjun, welcome to India,’ he says, his hand dropping when I don’t play along. He’s only about nine and it doesn’t look like we’ll have anything in common.
Dad laughs at how embarrassed I am. I shoot him a glare and he wraps his arm around me. ‘Sorry, Tam.’ I pull away and his face falls, but I don’t care. I’m hurting way more than he is.
‘I’m your Aunt Simran,’ the woman in purple interrupts. She turns her back to Dad and carries on speaking, but only to me, which I think is a bit rude. Doesn’t she like Dad? ‘You know, your mum’s brother’s wife. And this cheeky boy is my son – don’t pay any attention to his teasing.’ She holds out her arms but I don’t step in for a hug. She drops her arms awkwardly. ‘You’ve come such a long way . . . at last we get to see you. Let me look. Such beautiful long hair and this nice . . . football kit.’ She gives Dad a quick look, then turns her back to him again.
My fingers find Mum’s photo in my pocket and feel for the comforting fold in the corner.
‘You OK, Tam?’ asks Chloe.
I just stare at the floor, willing myself not to lose it, wishing that Dad was coming with me. But I’m not sure he would be welcome – Aunt Simran is acting really weird towards him. Besides, I know he’s waited so long for a honeymoon; it’s been six months since he and Chloe got married. He deserves this break.
‘Thank you, Simran, for coming all this way to collect Tamarind,’ says Dad, clearing his throat. ‘It will be good for her to meet you all at last, hey?’
‘Don’t worry, Raju.’ Aunt Simran gives Dad a stiff little hug. ‘We’re family, no matter how long it’s been.’
‘We brought you some presents.’ Chloe bounces up to Arjun and stuffs a bag bursting at the seams with British sweets into his arms. ‘We’d better go – our train’s leaving in an hour.’
Dad gives me one of his massive bear hugs and whispers, ‘Only a week and I’ll be back. They’ve been looking forward to seeing you for such a long time, try and enjoy it.’
‘But, Dad . . .’ I wipe my palms against my Arsenal T-shirt. ‘What am I going to eat? What if everything’s too . . . too different?’
‘I already told them in the letter. And I put a few things in your bag. In case of emergency.’ He smiles.
I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse. I wipe my cheek against Dad’s shirt.
‘You’ll be OK, Tam,’ he says softly.
‘I don’t have much choice, do I?’ I turn away from him to face the family.
‘We’ll be back before you know it,’ says Chloe, stroking my cheek. ‘We haven’t forgotten it’s your birthday on Sunday.’
I move away quickly, leaving Chloe’s hand dangling in mid-air, and just catch her look at Dad.
‘Bye then,’ she says.
‘Bye,’ I mumble.
They trundle off into the distance, Dad shooting me a quick glance before they begin running to catch their train, and I think I might collapse right here, I feel so hot and strange.
‘No worrying, OK?’ Aunt Simran pulls me towards her. ‘We’ll look after you very well, promise.’
I try to stop my lip quivering as we bustle out of the airport and I’m smacked in the face by the most raucous place I’ve ever been. My head spins faster than a carousel and as I step backwards into the road, I narrowly miss being squashed by a meandering white cow.
Aunt Simran grabs me by the arm, pulling me back to the pavement. ‘You’ll get used to this,’ says Arjun. ‘It helps to have eyes in the back of your head, though.’
Cars, people, motorbikes and animals are sprawling everywhere. Starlings lined up along the telephone wires chatter mockingly. I feel for the phone in my pocket . . . is it too late to call Dad back?
A blue people carrier pulls up alongside us. The window winds down and blasts us with noisy drum-beats.
‘Nice to meet you, Tamarind. I’m Kamaal,’ says the young man in the driver’s seat.
‘That’s my big brother. You won’t see much of him,’ says Arjun. ‘He thinks he’s a proper musician, hangs out with friends down here in the city mostly.’ He leaps into the back seat of the car as my aunt climbs into the front.
I grab the hot metal door handle and slide into the car beside Arjun. It’s so strange being here . . . I’m entering Mum’s world all alone. I take a deep breath of cooled air.
‘Are you from London then?’ Arjun asks, nodding at my T-shirt.
‘No,’ I reply slowly. ‘We live in Bristol, but my favourite football team is Arsenal. My all-time favourite player is Alex Scott.’
Arjun gives me a blank look.
‘She used to play in the women’s team – and for England – but now she’s on telly, commentating on the World Cup and stuff. She’s amazing. Dad took me to see her play once and I’ve been practising my dribbling ever since.’ I’m speaking really fast, but Arjun doesn’t seem to notice.
‘Cool! I’m into skateboarding and origami but not at the same time,’ he laughs, his eyes sparkling.
I’m warming to o
ur conversation now. ‘I was meant to go to a summer camp . . . at Arsenal, I mean, with my best friend Rafi.’ I swallow, my stomach suddenly plummeting. ‘But I’m here instead.’
‘Maybe you’ll get to do it a different time,’ he says, getting a small gamer out from the back of the seat in front. ‘Want a go?’
I shake my head. ‘Thanks, though.’ I stare out of the window.
He fires it up and starts punching at the keys. ‘I need to beat my record.’
A sad, empty feeling settles around me. All I can think of is Mum. It’s as if she’s flown from the photo and is everywhere I look, like she’s right here beside me. I can’t get her out of my mind and, although I never knew her, I miss her so much. I’ve never felt quite like this before.
Outside, the tall trees that line the road sway in the warm breeze. We drive alongside a wide river, cars and buses bumper to bumper, the air noisy with horns. In the far distance, snow-capped mountains rise into the turquoise-blue sky. The moon appears from behind one of the peaks and a bright star sits beside it, even though it’s not dark yet. Further away the clouds begin to turn grey.
Arjun glances out of the window. ‘Hope we don’t get caught in a storm. It’s monsoon season and that means rain.’ He raps on the back of the driver’s seat. ‘Put your foot down, Kamaal.’
‘Careful driving,’ adds Aunt Simran. ‘We have our lovely Tamarind with us.’ She turns and smiles.
‘Don’t worry,’ says Kamaal. ‘I’ll get everyone home safely.’
‘Er . . . Aunt Simran,’ I say, leaning forward. ‘Will you tell me about Mum?’
She touches my hair. ‘Beta, not now, OK? It’s a day for celebration, not sad things.’
I let the butterflies in my stomach fizzle to nothing, stare out of the window again.
Arjun shoots me a smile, angles his gamer towards me. ‘Sure you don’t want a go?’
I shake my head. The phone in my bag buzzes and I make a grab for it. A message from Rafi.
Hey Tam – When U back? Arsenal is sick but not same without U Call me!!!!!
I quickly tap my reply and send it off.
Tamarind and the Star of Ishta Page 1
