by Collen Houck
“Got it.”
He dropped the amulet and went back to stowing things in the Jeep. “I’m glad that Kishan agreed to give it to you.”
“Agreed? I thought it was his idea.”
“No, actually getting the amulet for you was the reason Dhiren wanted to stop here in the first place. He didn’t want to leave until he’d convinced Kishan to let you have it.”
Puzzled, I said, “Really? I thought we were going back to have Kishan join us.”
He shook his head. “We knew there was little hope that Kishan would join us. He’s been…indifferent to any previous efforts I’ve made to conscript him for our cause. I’ve tried over the years to lure him out of the jungle and into a more comfortable life at the house, but he prefers to remain here.”
I nodded. “He’s punishing himself for Yesubai’s death.”
Mr. Kadam looked at me, surprised. “Did he speak of this to you?”
“Yes. He told me what happened when Yesubai died. He still blames himself. And not just for her death,
but also for what happened to him and Ren. I feel very sad for him.”
Mr. Kadam sagely considered, “You’re very compassionate and perceptive for such a young person, Miss Kelsey. I’m glad Kishan was able to confide in you. There is hope for him yet.”
I helped him gather up his papers and the fold-up chair and table. When we were done, I patted Ren lightly on his shoulder to let him know we were ready to leave. He stood slowly, arched his back, twitched his tail, and then curled his tongue in a giant yawn. He rubbed his head against my hand and followed me to the Jeep. I hopped into the passenger seat, leaving the back open for Ren to sprawl out on.
Driving back to the highway, Mr. Kadam seemed toenjoy weaving through the obstacle course of tree stumps, bushes, rocks, and potholes. The Jeep’s shock absorbers were top of the line, but I still had to hold on to the door handle tightly and brace myself against the dashboard to keep from knocking my head on the roof. Finally, we were out on the smooth highway again and heading southwest.
Mr. Kadam encouraged, “Tell me all about your week with two tigers.”
I peeked at Ren in the backseat. He seemed to be napping, so I decided to start by telling him about the hunt first, and then I backtracked and talked about everything else. Well…almost everything else. I didn’t
talk about the kissing thing. It’s not that I didn’t think Mr. Kadam would understand; in fact, I think he would have understood. I felt more comfortable talking to him than I had felt with anyone else since my parents died. But, I couldn’t trust that Ren was actually asleep in the back, and I wasn’t ready to share my feelings yet, so I skipped that part.
Mr. Kadam was most interested in hearing about Kishan. He’d been shocked when Kishan walked out of the jungle asking for more food for me. He said that Kishan hadn’t seemed to care about anything or anyone since his parents had died.
I told him how Kishan stayed with me for five days while Ren was hunting and that we talked about palace life and about how he mether. I tried to keep my voice quiet and whisper about Yesubai so I didn’t upset Ren. Mr. Kadam seemed puzzled at my need to encode everything I was saying, but he indulged me anyway. He nodded, while carefully listening to my comments about you-know-what and the thing-that-happened-at-that-place.
I could tell he knew more and could have filled in a few blanks for me, but I knew he wouldn’t divulge information. He was the type of man who kept confidences. That characteristic worked both for me and against me. Ultimately, I decided that it was a good thing. Later, I asked, “What were Ren and Kishan like growing up?”
“Ah. Theboys were their parents’ pride and joy, royal princes with a knack for getting into trouble and charming their way out of it. They were given anything they desired, but they had to work to earn it.
“I told you a bit about them before…remember? I’d said that their mother would take them out to play with poorer children. Their mother wasunconventional for India. She wanted her children to be open to all cultures and religious practices. Their father, King Rajaram, loved her and indulged her.
“He ignored courtly gossip and responded by talking about what fine sons he had and asked if there was any woman more wise and beautiful than his wife. He would often boast to others good naturedly, saying
‘Is there any man as fortunate as I? I am a man blessed abundantly.’ Because he was such a good king and because everyone loved the princes, their occasional small deviances from the norm were tolerated.”
I remarked, “He sounds like a great king. That’s very forward thinking for the time period too.”
He chuckled. “Yes, it was. Their marriage was a blend of two cultures. The boys were raised with the best of both worlds. They studied everything from politics and warfare to herding and crops. They were trained not only in the weapons of India, but also had access to the best teachers from all over Asia.”
“Did they do other things? Like normal teenager stuff?”
“What types of things are you curious about?”
I twitched nervously. “Did they…date?”
He quirked an eyebrow curiously. “No. Definitely not. The story you told me about…,” he winked,
“you-know-what is the only time I have ever heard of either of them having a romantic escapade.
Frankly, there was no time for that, and both boys were to have arranged marriages anyway. They weren’t concerned with dating. In fact, dating, as you know it, didn’t exist in India. All marriages were arranged then and many still are today.”
I rested my head against the seat and tilted the chair back a little. I tried to imagine what their lives were like. It must have been difficult having no choices, but then again they were privileged when others had much less. Still, having freedom of choice was something I treasured.
Soon, my thoughts became foggy, and my tired body nudged me into a deep sleep. When I woke up, Mr. Kadam handed me a wrapped sandwich and a large fruit juice.
“Go ahead and eat something. I thought we could stop at a hotel for the night so you could get a good night’s rest in a comfortable bed for a change.”
“What about Ren?”
“I picked a hotel that’s near a small section of jungle. We can drop him there and pick him up on the way back.”
“What about tiger traps?”
Mr. Kadam laughed softly. “Told you about that, did he? Don’t worry, Miss Kelsey. He’s not likely to make the same mistake twice. There aren’t any big animals in this area so the townsfolk aren’t expecting anything. If he keeps his head low there shouldn’t be any trouble.”
An hour later, Mr. Kadam pulled over near the jungle at the outskirts of a small town and let Ren out.
Ren looked up at me for a brief moment and then padded off into the trees with Mr. Kadam. After about ten minutes, Mr. Kadam came back alone and hopped into the driver’s seat.
We drove through a small town that was bustling with vibrantly dressed people and colorful homes and pulled to a stop in front of our motel. “It’s not a five star, but it does have its charms.”
A polished square window displayed sale items. On top of the store, I saw a giant sign supported by a wood frame. It was painted pink and red and announced the store’s name, which I couldn’t read, and featured an old-fashioned Coke bottle, which was universally recognizable no matter what language was printed on it.
We approached the motel’s front desk, which also housed a cash register for the small store. I left Mr.
Kadam at the desk and wandered around, examining the interesting products for sale. The refrigerated section was small. In fact, all the sodas were on shelves rather than being refrigerated. I found Cadbury chocolate bars and Coke products mixed in with unusual candies and frozen popsicles in exotic flavors.
Mr. Kadam got our keys and bought us two Cokes and two popsicles. He handed me a white one while he took the orange one. I pulled off the wrapper, warily smelling my frozen treat.
“It
’s not something like soy bean and curry is it?”
He grinned. “Take a bite.”
I did and was surprised to find it was coconut flavored. He bit off a hunk of his, held it up with a grin, and said, “Mango.”
We grabbed our bags and approached a wrought iron gate. Swinging it open, he said, “Ladies first,” and we entered a concrete patio area that was adorned with potted plants, stone benches, and palm trees.
The motel was painted mint green with pink flamingo trim. It had three wings set at right angles with the
store placed in the front so it made a sort of box with a garden spot in the middle. Each wing had two floors with three rooms per floor and one set of stairs. On the middle wing, instead of rooms on the bottom floor there were two large doors painted dark green.
Mr. Kadam pointed to them and said, “Bathrooms. Men on the right, women on the left.”
“Shared bathrooms? Great. Still, it’s better than camping. I really need a hot shower.”
He let me into my room first, which was on the bottom floor of the left wing, conveniently placing me closest to the women’s bathroom. A full-size bed was set in the middle of the room and a small pillow and a few blankets were placed on the foot.
A colorful curtain hid a small closet with a few wooden hangars. A basin and a pitcher of fresh water as well as a couple of earthenware mugs rested on a table. Instead of air conditioning, a ceiling fan circled lazily overhead, barely stirring the warm air. The accommodations were sparse, but it was better than being outside.
After seeing me settled and giving me my key, Mr. Kadam said he would come retrieve me to take me to dinner in three hours, and then he left me alone.
I unpacked my bag and realized that I didn’t have any clean clothes to put on after my shower. I piled all
my dirty clothes on the bed and was just thinking about bringing them with me to wash in the bathroom when there was a knock on my door. A small Indian woman wearing a bright orange flowing shirt over a white skirt came in to my room bearing a stack of clean towels.
She set them on the bed and, seeing my clothes piled there, started gathering them up. I tried to stop her by using a rudimentary sort of sign language, but she just kept nodding her head up and down while grinning at me. Before I knew it, she’d gathered up my entire pile and was gone.
I sat down heavily on the bed, wondering what to do about a shower and clothes. I pulled a towel off the top of the stack and was surprised to find a white terry cloth robe and slippers under the first towel. I set the towel back on top of the stack, threw my shampoo and soap on top, picked up the entire pile, and carried it with me to the women’s bathroom.
The bathroom was empty, probably due to it being early afternoon. Three sinks lined the right wall. On the left stood a row of toilet stalls with doors, turning a corner, I found the showers. The floor sloped down to a large drain in the middle. Concrete benches lined the outer walls and colorful tiles ran up the walls on either side. Large vent fans swept the moist air out from the building and hummed noisily. I decided to quickly take advantage of the shower while no one was around. My old middle school had similar type showers set all in a row with no dividers, but no one ever used them.
Personally, I was much too shy to shower with others. It was bad enough we had to change in front of each other. I always arranged my PE class to be at the end of the day so I could just head home and shower there.
When I was done, I headed back to my room in my robe and saw my clothes, clean and wet, hanging from the clothesline outside my door, flapping in the breeze. My under things were draped over the hangers in my closet. I towel-dried my hair and brushed it out. Then, I settled myself on the bed and took
a nap while I waited for my clothes to dry.
After my nap, and reading for an additional hour, I went outside to test my clothes. They were ready. I gathered them and got dressed, and then I braided my hair and tied a red ribbon to match my red shirt.
I’d just finished putting on my sneakers when Mr. Kadam knocked on the door.
He took me out to eat at what he said was the best restaurant in town, The Mango Flower. We took a small motorboat taxi across the river and walked to a building that looked like a plantation house that was surrounded by banana, palm, and mango trees.
He led me around the back, and we walked on a paved stone path that led to an amazing view of the river. Heavy wooden tables with smooth polished tops and stone benches were placed all around a stone patio. Decorated iron lanterns were set on the corner of each table and provided the only light. A brick archway to the right was covered in white jasmine that perfumed the evening air.
“Mr. Kadam, this is lovely!”
“Yes, the man at the front desk recommended it. I thought you would enjoy a nice meal since you’ve been eating army rations for a week.”
I let Mr. Kadam order for me since I had no idea what the menu said. We enjoyed a dinner of basmati rice, grilled vegetables, chicken saag (chicken cooked with creamed spinach), a flaky white fish with mango chutney, vegetable pakoras (vegetable fritters), coconut prawns, naan bread, and a kind of lemonade made with a dash of cumin and mint called jal jeera. I liked the lemonade, but it was a bit too tangy for my taste, and I ended up drinking a lot of water instead.
As we started our meal, I asked Mr. Kadam what more he’d learned about the prophecy.
He wiped his mouth with his napkin, took a sip of water, and said, “I believe that what you are seeking is called the Golden Fruit of India.” He leaned in a little closer and lowered his voice. “The tale of the Golden Fruit is a very old legend forgotten by most modern scholars. It was supposedly an object of divine origin given to Hanuman to watch over and protect. Shall I tell you the tale?”
I sipped my water and nodded.
“Before the gods and goddesses, India was a vast wasteland, completely uninhabitable. It was full of fiery serpents, great deserts, and fierce beasts. When the gods and goddesses came and created man, they gave mankind special gifts, the first one being the Golden Fruit. When it was planted, a mighty mango tree sprung up, and from the fruit that grew on the tree, seeds were gathered and spread all over India, changing it into a fertile land that would feed millions.”
“But, if the Golden Fruit was planted, wouldn’t it have disappeared or become the roots of the tree?”
“One mango from that first tree ripened quickly and became golden, and that Golden Fruit was taken and hidden by Hanuman. As long as the fruit is protected, India’s people will be fed.”
“Sothat’s the fruit we have to find? What if Hanuman is still protecting it and we can’t get to it?”
“Hanuman protected the fruit by placing it in his fortress and surrounding it with immortal servants who would watch over it. I don’t know much about the kinds of barriers that would be set up to stop you. I’m guessing there will be more than one trap designed to pull you from your course. On the other hand, you are Durga’s favored one, and you have her protection as well.”
I rubbed my hand absentmindedly. It tingled. I couldn’t see the henna drawing anymore, but I knew it was still there, under the surface. I sipped my lemonade. “Do you really think we’ll find anything? I mean,
do you really believe in this stuff?”
“I don’t know. I hope it’s true so that there can be a cure for Ren. I try to keep my mind open. I know there are powers that I can’t discern and things that bend and shape us that we can’t see. I shouldn’t be alive, but somehow I am. Ren and Kishan are trapped in some kind of magic that I don’t understand, and it’s my duty to help them.”
I must have looked worried because he patted my hand and said, “Don’t fret. I have a strong feeling that everything will work out in the end. That faith keeps me focused on our goal. I have great confidence in you and Dhiren, and I believe, for the first time in centuries, that there is hope.”
He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Now, shall we turn our attention to dessert?”
He seemed certain that the ruins of Hampi were the place to start looking for Kishkindha. He also wanted us to visit a local temple of Durga before we ventured to the ruins.
As we strolled slowly through town to the market, Mr. Kadam and I caught sight of our mint green hotel. He turned to me with a sheepish expression and said, “I hope you forgive me in choosing this hotel.
We could have stayed in a five-star hotel in Hampi, but I wanted to stay in the smaller town closer to the jungle in case Dhiren needed me for some reason. He can reach us here quickly if he needs to, and I felt safer being closer to him.”
“I’m fine, Mr. Kadam. After staying in the jungle for a week, this feels luxurious.”
He laughed and nodded his head. We browsed through the different stalls, and Mr. Kadam bought some fruit we could share for breakfast and some type of rice cakes wrapped in banana leaves. They looked similar to the lunch Phet had made for me, but Mr. Kadam assured me they were sweet and not spicy. I wandered over to an artist’s stand and looked through the different paintings and drawings. I found one of a white tiger with vibrant blue eyes resting its head on its paws.
Mr. Kadam walked up behind me and saw what I was looking at. He negotiated a price with the vendor, who then took the picture from me, wrapped it in paper, and handed it back. We returned to our rooms with me clutching my new gift. Mr. Kadam said good night and disappeared into his own room.
After I got ready for bed, I fluffed my pillow and stuck it behind my back. I pulled my freshly washed and dried quilt over my lap and then picked up my wrapped picture. I carefully peeled back the tape and removed it from its packaging. Staring at the blue eyes made me think about Ren sitting in the jungle all alone.
