The Deadly Conch

by Mahtab Narsimhan

  To fight Kali and Zarku, who were openly evil, was one thing. But to fight a child, merely nine years old, was another. Who would believe that Layla was plotting to make her suffer? No one would believe that this spawn of Kali was more dangerous than her mother, simply because no one would ever suspect that a child could be this devious. She was more formidable an enemy than her mother or even Zarku.

  “There’s a dead cat in our well,” said Layla. “The water is undrinkable.”

  The villagers gasped collectively.

  “What?” said Raka. “How can you say that?”

  “Because I was with Sushila Mausi just now, drawing water from the well. The bucket was so heavy that the poor lady could not pull it up by herself. So I stayed to help. And when the bucket came up …” Layla paused, her eyes sweeping the room. Only when she was satisfied that all eyes were upon her did she continue.

  “There was a dead cat in it,” she whispered. “And cats don’t jump into wells for the fun of it.”

  “This is very serious,” said Raka. “Already the water level is low and now if the water is contaminated and there’s no rain …” His eyes flicked to Tara.

  “I didn’t do it!” screamed Tara. “She’s lying.”

  The villagers jumped and so did Punditji, upsetting a diya in front of him. All eyes were on Tara and she had to fight the urge to run and hide from those accusing glares. “I was here all the time, Rakaji, just as you had instructed. Ask Punditji if you don’t believe me,” said Tara. She scrubbed her sweaty palms on her kurta again and again.

  Punditji reluctantly nodded.

  “I never said you did it,” said Layla. She looked calmly at Tara. “Why would you think that?”

  Tara’s guts twisted into knots as she realized what she had done. She had walked right into that one, with her eyes wide open. For a mere child Layla was very smart. Too smart. With a thrill of horror, Tara realized that if Layla could manage this level of deception at such a young age, she would get worse with each passing year. They were nurturing another Kali. Morni was truly doomed. And so was she.

  “I-I thought you …” muttered Tara and stopped. The disapproving looks around her had dried up the words.

  “Rakaji, the village of Chandi Mandir also shares the water from our well,” said Layla. “They’ll have to be told right away.”

  Raka looked as if he was in pain. In fact, all the members of the Panchayat looked troubled.

  “This is not good,” said Sumathy. “First the dog in the temple, now the cat in the well. What is happening to Morni?”

  “Bad luck, Sumathyji,” said Layla promptly. “That is what’s happening to Morni. And there is only one person here who has spent time with the most evil person of all — Zarku. And she’s brought that evil to us.” She raised her chubby finger and pointed. “Tara is to blame for this.”

  Her words, mingling with the sandalwood incense, sped through the room and beyond. Then the whispers started.

  It’s Tara … she spent time with the evil Zarku.

  Tara brought bad luck to us.

  Tara is bad luck.

  — five —

  The Hidden Snake!

  A million eyes pinned Tara where she stood. The room was hot, but now it seemed as if she were standing in the heart of a volcano. Sweat oozed out of every pore and her clothes stuck to her like a wet sheath. She tried to meet everyone’s gaze defiantly. You’re wrong, she wanted to scream at them. Dead wrong. But their disapproval and anger were too much to bear. She dropped her gaze, an icy panic flooding her. She had saved her brother, Sadia, even her friends from a horrible death. She had faced Zarku and Kali alone, not wishing to put anyone else in danger. But Layla had twisted this around to make it look like she was tainted. As if she were the evil threatening Morni.

  And the villagers were starting to listen to her!

  “The pooja —” Punditji started to say.

  “You’ve all gone mad,” said Shiv, cutting him short. He gripped Tara’s shoulders and glared at the villagers. She was thankful for his support because her legs were so wobbly; it took all of her willpower to keep standing.

  “You’re accusing my daughter for bringing bad luck to our village just because Layla, Kali’s daughter, suggested it? Have you forgotten what Kali was like? She was the one who invited Zarku to the village. She and her corrupt father, Dushta. If it hadn’t been for her, my daughter wouldn’t have had to put her life in danger; not once, but twice! You should be ashamed of yourselves. All of you!”

  The villagers shifted uneasily and looked away. No one uttered a word.

  “You have a point, Shiv,” said Raka, breaking the ominous silence. “Morni has had its share of good and bad luck over the years. I have seen it all; failed crops, drought, illnesses, malaria, and famine. But never,” he said, glancing at the Panchayat, “during my time as Head, has our temple ever been defiled by a dead animal, nor our well water contaminated. Am I right, brothers?”

  The others nodded, still staring at Tara.

  “Can we finish the pooja?” whined Punditji. “These interruptions are one too many and I don’t like it.”

  “With all due respect, Punditji,” snapped Parvati. “This is more important.” She addressed Raka in a shrill voice, the light of battle shining in her eyes. “And you think my daughter is responsible for these incidents? The heat has softened your brains, Raka.”

  “There is no need to be rude, Parvati,” said Raka. “I want to get to the bottom of this, too. But you have to admit that the timing could not have been worse. We need the rains and there is none. We need the blessings of the Lord and the temple was defiled. We need water desperately, and now our well is out of commission. All of this happened within a week of Tara returning.” His voice had sunk to a whisper as he said the last few words. His normally soft eyes were like black stones.

  Tara moved closer to Parvati and clutched her hand tightly, hoping she would wake up soon and find herself back in bed. This nightmare was even worse than the one she’d had earlier in the day.

  “You’re wrong!” said Suraj suddenly. “My Didi would never harm anyone. I’ll fight anyone who says so.”

  Tara tousled his hair. “I’m all right, Suraj, but thanks.”

  “I think we should all calm down and finish the pooja,” said Karthik. “We can finish this discussion later.”

  “Oh no, take as much time as you need,” said Punditji. “I can’t finish the pooja now.” It was evident from his sulky expression that he was unhappy about the spotlight being snatched away from him once too often. “The auspicious time has passed. We’ll have to do it some other time. Go home, all of you.”

  For a moment there was complete silence and then everyone spoke at once.

  “No, we want prasad,” yelled the villagers. “We need the blessings of Lord Ganesh. Finish the pooja.”

  “No,” said Punditji. His bald head shone with sweat and his pudgy arms were crossed over his hairy chest. “You can take all of your offerings away. They have been partially blessed. That’s the best I can do right now.”

  A buzz ran through the crowd. Never before had Punditji stopped a pooja in the middle. This was another first and Tara could sense their resentment turning to shock and then to anger. It came hurtling toward her in a huge, towering wave and crashed down.

  “Punditji, for all our sakes, could you please complete the pooja?” asked Raka.

  Punditji drew himself up. “No! The favourable time is past and I will not do it today. You may take your duties lightly, Raka, but I do not.”

  It was Raka’s turn to look sulky, but he did not say a word. Tara looked from the chief to Punditji, her heart unbearably heavy. She had imagined month-long festivities upon her return; being honoured and treated like a queen. The reality could not have been further from her dreams. Her eyes came to rest on the person who had started this.

  Layla stood next to Sumathy, trying to act calm, but her eyes gave her away and Tara knew she was very happy. Raka
tried to quiet the crowd and send them home. Slowly, the temple began to empty. Punditji was talking to the Panchayat, gesticulating in agitation. Tara strained her ears, but she could not hear a word of the whispered conversation.

  “This is really bad, Shiv,” said Parvati. “What’s happening … and why? We have to talk to Layla tonight. By attacking Tara in public she’s causing a lot of tension and fuelling their superstitions. This is so wrong.”

  “We told you she was evil, Mother,” said Suraj. His eyes shone with anger as he thumped his small fist into his palm. “Tara and I had warned you, but you wouldn’t listen.”

  Tara, Shiv, and Parvati gaped at him.

  “What did you say?” said Parvati.

  “When Kali was thrown out of the village, you offered to look after Layla, remember?” said Suraj. “We knew she was just like her mother. She always tried very hard to get us into trouble. It made her happy to see us sad. She’s doing it again.”

  Parvati drew in a shaky breath, but did not reply. Tara could only think of the ruined evening. Surely this was one more black mark against her. The last of the villagers were streaming out. The Panchayat and Punditji were still talking in whispers, glancing their way now and then. Layla seemed glued to Sumathy as they stood a short distance away from Raka.

  Shiv herded them together. “Let’s go home. We need to have a serious talk.”

  Parvati called out to Layla. “Come on, Layla. We’re all going home.”

  Layla stared at them, blank-faced, as if strangers had asked her to accompany them home. “I’m staying here,” she said. “I have to talk to Rakaji as soon as he’s free.

  There are a few more things I have to tell him.” She stared straight at Tara.

  Tara had to use all her discipline to hold Layla’s gaze without shuddering or glancing away. This is a child, a mere child, Tara told herself over and over again. And you can beat her. Be strong.

  “You snake,” hissed Parvati. “I brought you up like my own daughter instead of an orphan. And this is how you repay me?”

  “I have done nothing,” said Layla.

  Her parents looked at each other and then back at her.

  “You can stand there and say that?” said Parvati in a choked voice. “You’re feeding the villagers lies about my Tara and turning them against her. She is your sister, after all. How can you do that to your own family?”

  “Stepsister,” said Layla. “You may have taken me into your house, Parvati, but you never took me into your heart. I don’t think I’ll call you Mother anymore.”

  Parvati gasped. “You ungrateful … lying … little —”

  “I think you better go, Parvati,” said Sumathy. “Harassing a child is the last thing I’d expect from you. Especially a child who has no parents to protect her.” She put an arm around Layla who moved closer, a terrified expression on her face.

  “We are — were — her parents before she decided to start playing these games,” said Parvati. “Since Kali left, I have brought her up as one of my own. I have no idea why she is telling these lies all of a sudden.”

  “Let’s go,” said Shiv, his voice grim. “I think we’ve heard enough. Layla, we need to have a talk, all of us. Either you come with us now, or you never come back.”

  There was silence in the room. Tara realized that Raka and the rest of the Panchayat were suddenly standing beside them. Punditji had disappeared into his room.

  “Are you threatening a child?” asked Raka. “You, Shiv? Don’t you know better?”

  “Raka, this is not what it looks like,” said Shiv. “I want to get a few things straight, as a family, and up until this moment I thought Layla was part of it.”

  There was a huge sob. They all looked at Layla. “I don’t want to go with them,” she wailed in pitiful voice. Her tears came thick and fast. “They’ll punish me, for sure. Maybe even beat me up for saying bad things about their real daughter.”

  Tara felt increasingly numb. There was a part of her that was horrified and yet she couldn’t help marvel at the way Layla was manipulating the situation. Her stepsister had always been able to turn on the tears at will. Those tears had earned her many beatings from Kali.

  “Don’t be silly, Layla,” snapped Parvati. “We’ve never raised a hand to you. Ever!”

  Layla ignored her. She slipped her hand into Sumathy’s. “Please let me stay with you for a few days. I’m scared to go back with them.”

  Sumathy looked at Raka. He looked at Tara, then at the rest of her family. He wiped his face and nodded. “Only for a few days. Until … until we sort all this out. I can’t take every child into my house, but this is so unusual … all right.” He sighed deeply. “I still have to talk to the headman of Chandi Mandir about the well. We’ll all have to find another source of water.”

  The mention of water made Tara realize that she was parched and they could not draw water from their own well. They would now have to walk a few kilometres to the village of Pinjaur to get the water, and haul it back, pot by pot. It was going to be very hard and the villagers were going to hate her more than ever.

  “Shiv, you have to knock some sense into Layla,” said Parvati. “This is going from bad to worse.” She took a sip of the hot ginger tea Tara had made for all of them.

  Tara slumped against the wall of their tiny kitchen. Night trickled in through the bars of the window set high up in the wall, adding to the gloom. She sipped her own tea, feeling a river of warmth slide down her throat and heat up her icy insides. The little food she’d just eaten sat in her stomach like boulders.

  “How can I argue with a child?” said Shiv. “Besides, the villagers are already starting to believe her. She’s played the right card by preying on the villagers’ superstitions.”

  “I can go and beat her up!” said Suraj. “I never liked her, anyway.”

  In spite of the worry ballooning inside her, Tara had to smile. Suraj looked so indignant as he waved his fist in the air. So different from the woebegone boy she had rescued from the cave. Involuntarily, she glanced at his forehead. It remained unblemished and flat.

  “I will, if you want me to, Didi,” said Suraj. “And after that, Mother, you can punish me for beating up a girl. I won’t mind.”

  “Suraj, I don’t want any talk of violence in this house,” said Shiv. “We’ve seen enough of that when Zarku was around. If you must beat someone, do it with your head, not your hands.”

  “There is one person whom the villagers will listen to,” said Parvati. Her eyes sparkled in the orange glow of the kitchen fire. “Prabala.”

  A little firework of joy exploded in Tara’s heart. Of course! Why hadn’t she thought of it before? “Where did he go, Mother, and when is he coming back?” asked Tara.

  Parvati sighed. “That’s the problem. When Father goes off for meditation, he very rarely gives an exact location. He said he was going to the Bhakti Ashram in the Himalayas. As for coming back, it could be days, months … even years.”

  The firework fizzled out. Tara clasped the hot cup of tea tighter, but it was no match for the deep chill spreading inside her.

  “Then I’ll go looking for Prabala,” said Shiv. “We need him here, with us. Once the Panchayat of Chandi Mandir hears about the contaminated well, things could get ugly for all of us. Especially with Layla continuing to spread lies about our Tara. That’s what she’s probably doing this very minute.”

  “She said she was going to make me suffer,” said Tara suddenly. She had not confided in her parents earlier, not wanting to worry them, but now she couldn’t keep this to herself any longer.

  In the dying embers, she saw the enlarged whites of their eyes, their grim expressions as they stared at her, aghast.

  “Is she going to kill you, Didi?” asked Suraj. His face crumpled.

  “Not if I can help it,” said Tara. With a huge effort, she smiled and ruffled his hair. “Hey, don’t you have any faith in your sister? I defeated Zarku. Layla is a little chicken in comparison. If I wanted t
o, I could fix her like that!” Tara snapped her fingers. The click was loud in the quiet kitchen. They heard the faint tinkle of Bela’s bell as she moved around restlessly.

  Suraj hugged Tara tight. “I wish Layla would go away and never come back,” he said.

  “Let’s all sleep on it and talk in the morning with a clearer mind,” said Shiv. “Tara, from now on I want you indoors at night no matter how hot it is.”

  Tara nodded, not really paying attention. An idea was pushing up through her mind like a magic weed, growing taller and stronger by the second. She couldn’t wait to put it into action.

  As Tara sat up slowly, the cot creaked. She froze, an excuse ready at her lips. But no one stirred.

  Watery moonlight spotted the floor. Tara watched the silver discs appear and disappear as clouds moved past the face of the moon. She was reminded of the night, a little more than a year ago, when she had seen the black cobra— her mother in disguise — come up to them. How scared she had been when the snake had kissed Suraj first and then her. And now she was scared again. Of a child this time! She shook her head; she had braved worse dangers than a spoiled, vindictive girl. She would get the better of Layla. And Ananth was going to help her. He would know what to do.

  She tiptoed to the kitchen, turned around at the threshold, and looked back at the sleeping faces of her family. After such a long time they were together again, and they deserved some peace and happiness. She was going to see to it that they did.

  Tara slipped her feet into her mojris, unhooked the metal clasp securing the back door, and ran out into the warm night, praying that her plan would work.

  — six —

  Whispers in the Night

  Darkness shrouded Ananth’s home. It was long past midnight and he was sure to be asleep. Tara tiptoed up to the mud hut and peered in through the nearest window. Darkness peered back at her. But she knew their home so well, that even without any light she knew how the cots were positioned and where Ananth would be sleeping.