Tara looked fearfully behind the deity at the door that led to Punditji’s quarters. He would be arriving any moment now to wash the fruits and flowers for the pooja. He would distribute these to the villagers who would pass through the doors all day.
She strained her ears, but there was no sound of movement. Maybe he, too, had slept in after last night’s revelries. Thank God for that. The next moment she shook her head. A horrible thing had happened in God’s house and she was thanking him that she had not been discovered.
Gayatri ran off to get a sack and Tara stooped over the body, staring at it, trying not to gag and cry at the same time. As the light grew brighter, every detail became clearer. The wound in the dog’s neck was deep; he had been attacked with a curved sickle the farmers used to cut grain. Who could have been heartless enough to take a weapon to a helpless animal? Her legs turned rubbery and she reached out for the wall to steady herself.
There lay her dupatta, wedged under its body, the blood making the green appear darker. Her eyes strayed to Lord Ganesh. Why Lord, she asked silently. Why did this happen? How can you allow an innocent animal to be murdered within your home?
Her mother’s words came to her, as they always did when she was troubled. Things always happen for the best. Sometimes, when they occur, you will probably be very unhappy, but as time passes, you will see that the pattern makes sense. It always does.
Yet Tara could not believe that this death and her dupatta being there made any sense. Someone was trying to frame her! And if it was discovered, she would be in deep trouble. She had to hide the dog. She stepped closer to the body. The whiff of decay and blood was overwhelming. The cloud of flies was getting thicker. She touched the dog’s hind leg. It was cold and stiff. She jerked her hand away, her insides burning and cold at the same time. How was she going to do this?
The temple bell at the top of the steps pealed loudly. Tara jumped. They had left it until too late. Someone was about to enter, and, as was customary, he or she had rung the bell. Tara raced to the body and slipped in the pool of blood. Down she went, cracking her knee on the stone floor. Biting her lip to stop the howl of pain she tried to pull her dupatta out from under the dog. It was glued to him. Tara took a deep breath and scooped the body up in her arms, dupatta and all, trying not to faint as the smell hit her like a slap on the face.
Just as she stood up, Raka’s wife, Sumathy, stepped into the temple with her thali. Her eyes travelled from Tara’s face to the bloody, dripping bundle in her arms, to the pool of deep red on the floor.
For a moment the only sound in the temple was the buzzing of the flies, indignant about their meal being snatched away.
The next moment, Sumathy screamed and collapsed on to the floor in a dead faint.
— three —
The Nightmare Begins …
“I didn’t do it!” said Tara. “You have to believe me!” Sweat beaded her forehead and heat prickled her back as if a million tiny red ants were swarming all over it.
Tara stood beside the burned stub of the banyan tree where the Panchayat and villagers had gathered. Some gaped at her incredulously, others shook their heads and clucked their tongues. Children craned their necks to get a better look. Once again she was the centre of attention. But this time she wasn’t enjoying it one little bit.
This time, when Sumathy had screamed, Punditji had come rushing out of his room. One look at the dead animal in her hands and he had howled in anger, rousing the entire village. Even though the dog was long buried, its stench, the slickness of its blood on her hands, its eyes staring at her unblinkingly, was indelibly printed in her mind. She wouldn’t forget this incident for as long as she lived.
“But Tara,” said Raka, “how can you explain your dupatta near that dog? Everyone saw you wearing it at the celebration last evening. And then it was next to the dead dog. How did that happen?”
Tara shook her head. “I can’t explain it. When I fell asleep, the dupatta was with me. This morning it was gone.”
Raka narrowed his eyes. “If you say you didn’t do it then how can you explain that it was you who found the dog first thing in the morning?” he asked. “That you were obviously trying to hide it when my wife caught you.” His eyes pierced her, and for a moment Tara was afraid that his shrewd gaze could see right into her soul. “Are you in the habit of going to the Ganesh Temple first thing every morning?”
Tara’s heart twinged as if a hand were squeezing it. She knew he would ask this question and she had struggled with the answer; the only one that would spare Gayatri-ma. Should she mention that it was the widow who had woken her and brought her to the temple? She knew what Raka’s next question would be; if Gayatri-ma had seen this defilement of their temple, why hadn’t she woken Punditji instead? Why Tara?
The people of Morni barely tolerated widows, and to bring one more thing to bear against Ananth’s mother would make them despise her even more. It was a good thing that Gayatri-ma had not been around and Raka’s wife had only seen her.
“Speak up, Tara,” said Raka. “You have nothing to worry about if you tell us the truth.”
Tara’s heart was racing; her mind was in a whirl. Easy for him to say, sitting up on that platform, looking smug. Much as she respected Raka, he had no idea what a widow had to live through, day after tedious day. No man in the village could ever imagine it. Nor a woman, until she was in the same situation.
“Tara is innocent!” said Parvati. Her voice quivered with emotion. “Tell them, Shiv. It’s ridiculous even to have this meeting. She must have panicked seeing her dupatta there and acted without thinking. That’s all. But she did not do this.”
“Yes, Raka —” Shiv started to say.
“I’d rather you didn’t interfere,” said Raka, cutting him off. “I think Tara is old enough to think and speak for herself.”
Ignoring him, a few villagers piped in.
“How can you accuse Tara of something like this?”
“She’s our hero! She saved us from Zarku.”
“There has to be another explanation.”
And then there were the ones who were clearly jealous of her. Their accusations flew at her like poison-tipped arrows.
“I think she did it. She has become too arrogant ever since she came back with the children.”
“Maybe some of Zarku’s madness rubbed off on her.”
“Do you think she’s still possessed by his evil mother, Zara?”
Tara was aghast at the last question. “NO!” she said. “That’s not true. Zara is dead and gone, and so is Zarku. I’m innocent.”
The hot sun burned Tara’s scalp and yet her hands were cold and clammy. If the villagers started believing she was possessed, she was in for a very rough time. Their blind superstitions would make her life a living hell. She had to stop them thinking this way!
“THAT’S ENOUGH!” said Raka. “This is not a free-for-all. The Panchayat will investigate this incident thoroughly. And since it was Tara’s dupatta which was found there, we shall start with her. No one but Tara is to speak.”
This time no one said a word except for the black crow perched on the stump behind the Panchayat. It cawed raucously, then flew off.
Tara opened her mouth. Tell the truth, the small voice nagged at her. One lie will lead to another and then another. You’ll get stuck in a web of lies. Tell the truth.
Gayatri-ma’s face flashed in her mind. The look on her face when Rakaji had ordered her to go home the day before still made Tara burn with shame. No, she couldn’t involve Gayatri-ma. She would have to take the blame and hope that as time passed, the villagers would forget about the incident.
“I had a very bad dream last night,” said Tara. “I woke up screaming. Ask Mother, she heard me.”
All faces turned to Parvati, who sat in the front row, clutching Shiv’s hand. Her mother nodded as soon as Raka glanced at her. “It’s true. Tara decided to sleep in the courtyard with Suraj since it was too hot inside the house. Early this morn
ing I heard a scream and ran outside. Tara was awake and shaking. I asked her to come inside, but she refused. She said she was all right so I left her and went back to sleep. I assumed that Tara had dozed off, too.” Parvati’s voice was tinged with fear and Tara hated herself for putting her mother through this.
“Then what happened?” asked Varun, a member of the Panchayat.
This is it, thought Tara. Either I tell the truth now or never. Her eyes flicked over to Ananth at the periphery of the crowd. He looked grim. How much did he know? Had his mother confided in him? If she told the truth, would the villagers allow Gayatri-ma to stay in the village? And if she was forced to leave, Ananth would leave, too! She would lose her brother and a woman who was a second mother to her, all at once.
“What’s taking so long, Tara?”
“She’s making up a good story,” said a child’s voice.
Tara started. There was Layla in the front row. Somehow she hadn’t even noticed her. The nightmare flashed through her mind and Tara hugged herself to stop from shuddering. She would not give this fat lump of a stepsister the satisfaction of seeing how rattled she was.
Layla’s black eyes were riveted to Tara’s. She could almost detect a hint of glee in them. Up until now her only two pastimes were eating and sleeping. Evidently she had a new pastime: torturing Tara.
“Shut up!” said Tara. “I’m not like you or your miserable mother. Lying is in your blood, not mine. Thank God one of you will never trouble us again.”
“How dare you insult my mother,” said Layla. “You’re the liar and I’ll make sure the villagers know it.”
Tara’s skin prickled again as she remembered Kali’s last words. What if they weren’t an empty threat? What if this was the first step to avenging her death? Tara clenched her hands and shoved them into her pockets. It was too much to think about at the moment.
“Stop it,” said Raka firmly. He glared at Layla first and then at Tara. “This is not about Kali or how you two feel about each other. All we need to know is why our temple was desecrated, and more important — who did it?”
“There is another matter, Raka,” said Varun. “Punditji has been ill since last night’s feast. That’s why he awoke late and the temple was unattended all of last night and this morning. It’s possible that he ate something bad, but now I wonder …”
“Varunji,” Layla piped in, cutting him off. “We all ate the same food. Yet no one else is ill. It’s possible that something was deliberately slipped into Punditji’s food.”
Loud gasps peppered the air. Tara’s heart skipped a beat. Put that way, she was under more suspicion than ever! And Layla was making things worse. She had to clear her name before it was too late.
“We’re still waiting, Tara,” said Raka. “Now’s your chance to speak. You won’t get another.”
Tara took a deep breath. “I was scared, Rakaji, and too restless to go back to sleep. So I decided to take Mother’s advice and visit the Ganesh temple to calm my mind and give thanks for our safe return to Morni.”
Out of the corner of her eye she saw many villagers nodding their approval. So far, so good.
“Last night I was too tired to change so I went to bed in the same clothes I had worn to the feast. I had my dupatta with me when I fell asleep, but when I looked for it in the morning, it wasn’t there. I thought Mother might have taken it inside so I didn’t give it another thought. Someone could easily have taken it in the middle of the night and put it next to the body. In fact I’m sure that’s what happened. You must believe me.”
“Liar,” said Layla.
“Shut up,” snapped Tara. “No one asked you to butt in.”
“Layla, you will keep your opinions to yourself until Tara has finished,” said Raka. “One more word out of you and I’ll have you thrown out immediately.”
Layla muttered under her breath, glaring at Raka and then at Tara.
“Continue,” said Raka. His face was very troubled.
The sun climbed higher in the vast blue sky. There was not a cloud in sight and no shade either. The tense silence in the clearing made even the drone of an inquisitive bee seem deafening.Tara had a pounding headache. Would they believe her? There was only one way to find out.
“So I went to the temple,” said Tara. “It was very early in the morning and I saw no one.”
“Not even Gayatri or any of the other widows?” asked another Panchayat member. “Surely someone must have seen you?”
Tara blanched and hated herself for that instant reaction. “No,” she said. Her voice shook. She cleared her throat. “Sorry,” she whispered, licking her lips. “I’m so thirsty. But no, I didn’t meet anyone. I reached the temple, saw the dog lying there and I … I …”
“Realized that while you were defiling the temple and insulting Lord Ganesh in a bout of complete madness, your dupatta had fallen off. So you decided to retrieve it and that’s when you got caught,” finished Karthik, a dour-faced member of the Panchayat. The contempt in his voice cut Tara to the core. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done, Tara? This could easily bring the wrath of the gods upon our heads. We will have to pray very hard to beg for forgiveness and I hope it’s not too late.”
An agitated hum rose from the crowd.
“That’s not what happened,” said Tara turning to the villagers. “Why won’t you all believe me?”
“She’s right,” said Parvati, getting to her feet. “I know my Tara. She would never kill a fly. It is unthinkable that she would hurt an innocent animal, let alone kill it so mercilessly. There has to be another explanation. And Layla, if you say one more word against your sister, you’re in deep trouble!” Her mother glared at Layla, who met her eyes without flinching.
“Let’s all calm down for a moment,” said Raka. He wiped his face with the end of the red turban and looked at the other members of the Panchayat, a perplexed expression on his face. The others looked equally grim and confused. Raka beckoned and they gathered closer, talking in low whispers while Layla chattered to the villagers sitting next to her.
Tara rubbed her sweaty palms against her kurta.
What if they found her guilty? Would they turn her out of Morni, too? Where would she go? Around her, the crowd’s whispers grew louder, angrier. The more she thought about it, the more certain she was that Layla had something to do with this. But could she have thought of this all by herself? No, it was impossible. Someone more devious had thought of this simple way to frame her.
Kali. Just thinking of her brought goosebumps to Tara’s arms. That could be the answer. Somehow mother and daughter were still connected and she had to break this connection between them before it was too late.
“Is there anything else you want to say, Tara?” said Raka. “Say it now before we announce our decision.” Tara could not make out the look in his eyes, but his voice was heavy with disappointment.
Tara stood tall. She was innocent and she was not going to cower with guilt. “Members of the Panchayat and People of Morni. I love this village. It is my home. I have put my life in danger to keep it safe. I was the one who faced Zarku, not once, but twice. I rescued my brother and brought him back, alone. You cannot truly believe that I would do something like this. Someone else killed the dog and made it look like I did. I have been framed. You can choose to believe it or not, but I did not do this.”
Tara walked on rubbery legs to the front row and collapsed next to her parents and Suraj. Her heart raced and her mouth was dry. The Panchayat stood up this time and moved away from the crowd as they held a hurried discussion.
“Didi, I believe you,” said Suraj. “Here’s my favourite marble. You can have it. It’ll make you feel better.”
Tara took the marble and slipped it into her pocket, trying to smile. Her mouth refused to co-operate. Suraj clasped her hand tight and Tara squeezed her eyes shut to stop the tears that were threatening to spill over. Raani, Vayu, and Kabir had left right after the feast, so she had no one she could discuss this with. An
anth was sitting too far away, though she had hoped he’d come over to talk to her. Together they would figure out who was responsible. She had to talk to him as soon as this was over.
“The Panchayat has made a decision,” said Karthik. “Raka will announce it.”
There was an immediate hush. Tara’s heartbeat slowed. Every throb was loud in her ears. What had they decided? She couldn’t wait to find out and yet a part of her didn’t want to hear it.
“Everything that Tara has accomplished for Morni has been taken into consideration,” said Raka. “While this horrible incident is still a mystery, it cannot be denied that Tara’s dupatta was found there. We will investigate this matter further, but we’re all shocked that someone in this village was cruel enough to kill a helpless animal in such an inhuman way. Though all the evidence points to Tara, it seems unlikely she could have done this. I personally believe she was framed.”
Raka looked straight at Tara and she gave him a small smile. He nodded imperceptibly as his eyes swept the rest of the crowd.
“Rakaji, you should start the investigation with Layla,” said Tara. His belief in her innocence had emboldened her.
“Let me finish,” said Raka. His voice was hard. “I hate interruptions and accusing anyone without proof is wrong! The Panchayat will report back to all of you as soon as we’ve found anything.”
Tara looked at the ground, burning up with shame. It was because of Layla that she was facing this humiliation. Layla had it coming to her, she would see to it.
“In the meantime, Tara, you will wash the temple inside and out thoroughly, no matter how long it takes. Then you will help Punditji keep it clean for one more week. Is that understood?”
Tara nodded as the uproar behind her steadily grew stronger.
“Is it wise to let the person who defiled the temple back near it?” someone said.
“Have her clean up the whole village not just the temple,” a woman called out.
“This is an unfair punishment for a child. Tara didn’t do it,” said Poonam, their neighbour, who was very fond of her and Suraj.
The Deadly Conch Page 3
