The Globetrotters

by Esther David

  PUFFIN BOOKS

  THE GLOBETROTTERS

  Arefa Tehsin spent her childhood treading the jungles of Aravali with her naturalist father. As a child, she was often found trying to catch a snake or spin a yarn. She grew up to be a story-spinner and was appointed the honorary wildlife warden of Udaipur for a term. She is the author of several fiction and non-fiction books, and writes columns and articles for various dailies and magazines. A dreamer as well as a rationalist, she is a serial traveller who wants to go on an endless journey, starting with Planet Earth. (Irrational for a rationalist? Ask her companion, Aditya!)

  ALSO IN PUFFIN BY AREFA TEHSIN

  Wild in the Backyard

  Arefa Tehsin

  the

  globetrotters

  Illustrations by Nafisa Nandini Crishna

  PUFFIN BOOKS

  An imprint of Penguin Random House

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  Puffin Books is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies

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  Published by Penguin Random House India Pvt. Ltd

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  Gurgaon 122 002, Haryana, India

  First published in Puffin Books by Penguin Random House India 2018

  Text copyright © Arefa Tehsin 2018

  Illustrations copyright © Nafisa Nandini Crishna 2018

  All rights reserved

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN 9780143441960

  e-ISBN 9789353051013

  Typeset in JoannaMT by Manipal Digital Systems, Manipal

  Printed at Thomson Press India Ltd, New Delhi

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  www.penguin.co.in

  To Aditya, my pollinating bee.

  The idea of this book was yours.

  As was (the idea) of me being a writer.

  I present you a little fruit of a story.

  Contents

  Prologue: The Curse

  Out of the Blue

  With Flying Colours

  As the Crow Flies

  In Troubled Waters

  One Good Tern

  Epilogue: The Answer

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  The Curse

  Hudhud cocked his head to one side and his mouth curved in a half-smile as he examined his handiwork. ‘We must do what we can to welcome our new history teacher. After all, Dracula has taken the trouble to bring her all the way from the medieval ages!’

  A few girls chuckled as Hudhud walked from the doorway to the teacher’s desk. The constant calls of a red-wattled lapwing floated in through the window.

  ‘Drat!’ A lanky boy who’d been craning his neck outside the classroom door hurtled towards his seat and slumped in it.

  Hudhud closed the drawer with a flourish and took his time to go and sit on his chair. He picked up his pencil and winked at the stout boy in rimmed glasses seated next to him, adding, ‘The old toad doesn’t look lightning quick to me.’

  Silence fell upon the class as an old woman, leaning slightly on a walking stick, appeared at the door, which said ‘Grade 7’. Her short silver hair was floppy and in complete contrast to her elfin-green starched dress. A cloth bag hung by her side.

  Pop-pop-pop! Little bursting pops vibrated around the classroom as soon as she stepped on the doormat. She stopped and looked down, confused. Before her was a bunch of students suppressing their giggles. They stood up and wished her a sing-song ‘Good morning, Miss!’

  Diverted, the teacher nodded her head in acknowledgement, walked to her desk, placed her stick to one side and sat down on the chair. Pop-pop-pop … craaack … The sounds that erupted from the chair would lead one to believe it were collapsing. The teacher got up at once, peered at the chair, then examined her bottom by running her hand over the cotton dress. Titters rose from the class. But she simply picked up her stick and shoved the cushion off the chair. Lined neatly on the underside was raw pasta, some of it broken.

  The teacher didn’t ask who the wise guy was, instead she pulled out a book from her bag. It didn’t look anything like their history textbook. This was a sleek volume with a stiff golden cover, a black bat embossed on it.

  ‘Medieval—have you heard about those times?’ Her voice crackled like fireworks.

  The boy next to Hudhud nudged him, whispering, ‘Medieval!’ Someone snorted.

  Hudhud raised his hand. The teacher nodded at him.

  ‘We had a chapter on it last year, ma’am,’ said Hudhud, getting up.

  ‘And what do you remember from it?’

  ‘My head is like the Dark Ages, ma’am. Whatever passed through it just got lost there.’

  A few kids guffawed. Hudhud lazily ran his fingers through his long wavy hair.

  ‘So the Dark Ages is what you remember.’ The old teacher put the book down. ‘This year, we will study the medieval times.’

  Without a pause, she started telling them the story of the Rashtrakuta Dynasty, who had built the Ellora Caves, not once referring to the book. She narrated their history like a fairy tale. The class became so engrossed in her account that it collectively grumbled in disappointment when the bell rang for the lunch break.

  ‘So now you know why Dracula appointed her as our new history teacher? She rocks!’ The plump, bespectacled boy got up and walked out with Hudhud. He stopped at the door and removed the bubble wrap from under the mat.

  ‘Yo, Kilkila. She’s good, all right. I didn’t think knowing the stories of dead people could actually be fun,’ said Hudhud, running his fingers through his soft curls. ‘But did you notice she didn’t ask anyone their name nor bothered to introduce herself?’

  ‘Yeah … Your paper-bag prank was a waste—she didn’t even open the desk drawer.’ Kilkila tossed the bubble wrap into the wastepaper basket as they walked towards the water fountain in the corridor.

  ‘Let’s leave it as a treat for another teacher,’ said Hudhud, whacking a junior on his bottom as he passed by. The boy whimpered and ran away.

  Kilkila put a finger to his lips as they crossed the principal’s office.

  ‘Dracula is not in,’ said Hudhud, peeping in.

  Retreating from the doorway, the two boys almost bumped into the straight-backed, crisply dressed man coming out of the next-door office.

  ‘Sorry, Sikandar Sir!’ Hudhud jumped back.

  ‘You will be sorrier tomorrow if you return with your long hair!’ The vice principal stopped and put his hand inside his pocket. ‘I’ll take you to the nai myself and get you a haircut that will beat all your fashion statements.’

  ‘Hail, Sick Sir!’ Hudhud saluted once the man was out of earshot, and the boys strolled out to the vast green field of the school, which sloped towards the forested hill at the back.

  The Study squatted on the outskirts of the main hill town of Mount Abu. Small streams tumbled down the peaks during rains. A lot of birds lived on the campus and many others visited daily. Sometimes a deer or an antelope strayed too near their school and then bounded off.

  The two wal
ked towards a large, canopying Ashoka tree, under which three girls sat with their lunch boxes. Hudhud elbowed Kilkila as they neared the girls.

  ‘So what’s for lunch, girls?’ asked Kilkila.

  ‘My mum has packed her special achar with parathas, but rest assured that you won’t get ANY of it, Adi and Sahil!’ The girl shook her two pigtails as she opened her tiffin box. She was new to the school and didn’t know that everyone called the two friends by their pet names—Kilkila and Hudhud.

  ‘Eeeeeeek!’ Immediately she tossed aside the container, and the other two girls squeaked and backed off too.

  The lunch had been polished off, and a big fat cockroach scrambled out of the box.

  ‘Ha ha ha!’ Hudhud and Kilkila doubled up with laughter and bolted as the girls gathered their bearings and ran after them.

  ‘You rats!’ shouted the pigtailed girl. ‘Wait till I complain to Principal Sir!’

  After a sprint, seeing that the girls had given up the chase and instead settled down to share their remaining lunches, Hudhud stopped near the short, creepercovered boundary wall of the school, huffing. Kilkila caught up, tittering between breaths, and leant against the wall.

  ‘You need longer legs now, Kila. It’s like I’ve just sprouted during the summer holidays, whereas you haven’t even bothered.’

  ‘You really think I have any say in how tall I get to be, Hudhud? You’re just shooting up because your dad is tall.’

  ‘I still like to think you’re a late bloomer, Kila.’

  ‘Shhh …’ Kilkila pointed to the other side of the boundary.

  Hudhud picked up a stone and threw it at the hare that had wandered too close. It tried to hop away, but it seemed it had broken a leg. So it dragged itself away in the tall grasses, with the leg trailing behind.

  ‘Howzat!’ Hudhud bent his knees, spreading both his arms in appeal.

  Kilkila shook his head. ‘You could have just shooed it away … Last time the girls saw you hitting a spotted deer right in its face, and they almost complained to Dracula!’

  ‘Don’t be such a chicken, Kila.’ Hudhud straightened up.

  ‘Lunch?’ asked Kilkila.

  ‘I’m stuffed. Those parathas and that achar in Mahua’s tiffin box were yum …’

  ‘Well, I need my sustenance. I haven’t been raiding girls’ lunch boxes like you.’

  ‘He he he … Let’s go get your tiffin.’

  From the school grounds, they headed back to their classroom. Sunlight filtered now and then through the clouds that hung low over the hills. The boys entered the corridor and saw the fifth-grader Sameer sulking near his classroom, which was adjoining the teachers’ room. He was a chubby boy and his face looked rounder than usual, a cap tightly covering his head.

  ‘What’s with the cap, fatso?’ Hudhud yanked it off with a swing of his arm. Sameer’s head was shaven, and Hudhud and Kilkila laughed out loud, taking turns to slap him on his bald head.

  Sameer dissolved in tears. ‘My … m-my Dadiji passed away.’

  Kilkila fell silent.

  ‘Oh … we’re sorry,’ said Hudhud. ‘She was a nice … old bag of sag!’ Kilkila didn’t join in but Hudhud went on. ‘Toothless frog!’

  ‘She’s not a frog! Papa says she is a bird now, and she’ll travel the world, like she always wanted to.’

  ‘A bird travelling the world?’ Kilkila spoke now. ‘Is your father bananas or is he just raising you to be an idiot?’

  ‘I’m sorry to kill Santa for you, kid, but animals can’t travel the world. They’re dumb,’ said Hudhud.

  ‘S-s-s-stop it! Or … or I’ll run away from school!’ Sameer’s triple chin shivered as he hiccuped.

  Hudhud caressed Sameer’s bald head. ‘Don’t sweat it, kid. Your granny’s gone, but I’ll babysit you.’

  Wiping his tears, Sameer took off.

  ‘Hey, stop!’ Kilkila called but he kept running, his body staggering from side to side.

  Hudhud laughed. ‘Don’t worry, Kilkila. Sumo Sam will be tired by the time he reaches the main gate and we’ll get him then.’

  Kilkila kept looking till Sameer turned into a corridor and vanished from sight. ‘I lost my grandfather two years back and I had to shave my head too. Why do boys have to shave their heads when there’s a death in the family? Why not the girls too? Why shave your head at all?’

  ‘Don’t be so glum, Kila. Listen up, I have a plan to welcome the other new teacher we have this year.’ He whispered something to Kilkila.

  ‘That’s a horrible plan.’ Kilkila smiled from ear to ear. ‘When do we work on it?’

  ‘I’ve told Ma I’ll be going to your place to do the maths homework. We can get to work after school.’

  After a gleeful high five, the two went inside the classroom.

  The evening sky had turned grey by the time Hudhud climbed up the steep lane to reach his home. His tie hung loose around his blue-and-black school uniform. Swinging the school bag on to the porch, he rang the bell.

  ‘Finally,’ said his ma, opening the door, ‘and just in time. Khan Uncle and Aunty were about to leave.’

  Hudhud grunted as he stepped inside. ‘Visiting again?’ he mumbled. Then, aloud, he greeted, ‘Aadab, Uncle … Aunty …’ He slumped on to the sofa.

  ‘Say hello to Akbar too.’

  A chubby baby sat on the floor, chewing on a black object.

  ‘Is that my PlayStation remote?’ Hudhud jumped up and snatched it away from Akbar.

  Akbar began to squeal at the top of his voice.

  ‘Some day I should take Akbar to school and set him loose on Dracula! He should get to harass others too,’ huffed Hudhud.

  ‘Your principal or Akbar?’ asked Ma.

  ‘Take your pick.’ Hudhud yawned.

  ‘Ha ha ha!’ Hudhud’s papa laughed aloud.

  ‘He’s funny, isn’t he?’ Ma asked fondly.

  Khan Uncle and Aunty smiled awkwardly. Aunty picked up the cranky baby and got ready to leave.

  ‘We’ll walk them to the car, Hudhud. Mind the house. You’re the man of the house in my absence, after all.’ Papa rapped him on his back and stepped out on the porch. Uncle, Aunty and Ma followed.

  ‘Elders, I tell you!’ Hudhud rolled his eyes as he went to his room. The sound of the doorbell made him stop halfway. ‘Back already?’

  He walked towards the door. Thunder clapped in the sky and the clouds rumbled above the hills. With a sudden flash of lightning, the electricity went out and the whole area became one with the night.

  ‘Just a minute, Papa,’ Hudhud called and then fumbled about in the drawer near the door. Finally, he pulled out a box of matchsticks and a candle. Power cuts being a regular feature, Ma kept the candles handy.

  Following the sizzle of the matchstick, the flame of the candle swayed gently. Hudhud opened the door. The candle in his hand threw light on a wrinkled face with deep-set eyes looking down at him.

  ‘Ma’am …? Wha … what are you doing here?’ He shook his head as if there were a bee in his hair.

  The old history teacher, leaning on her walking stick, stared hard, her white hair lolling around her face. The cloth bag hung from her shoulder.

  She brought out a paper bag. ‘You forgot something in the teacher’s desk today.’

  Smeared across the paper bag were the words ‘Dead Rat, Do Not Eat’.

  ‘He he he … That was, um … that was not for you, ma’am.’ Hudhud looked at the paper bag in her hand, puzzled. It smelled like a dead rat. He hadn’t put any dead rats in it.

  Splat-splat-splat! Big droplets of rain began to fall to the ground. A whiff of freshly wet mud blew away the rotting smell for a moment.

  ‘I saw you with the boy who lost his grandmother.’

  ‘Oh, that … How could I forget we were near the teachers’ room!’ Hudhud thwacked his forehead.

  ‘That was not nice.’ Her voice crackled like the matchstick he had just lit. ‘Do you know he has been missing since then?’

  Hudhud lo
oked at her, dumbstruck, and then shook his head in disgust. ‘He’s so dumb, like girls … and animals!’

  ‘Is that so? Well, you will be travelling the world with the greatest—oh, I’m sorry, “dumb” migratory animals,’ she croaked, ‘till you find the answer. You will not remember you were once human. You will not remember which animal you were before getting zapped into another form, till the time you find the answer and return to your human form again. If you come across your partner in crime, Kilkila, in your travels, you will not know him from any other lives. The only thing you’ll remember in all your journeys is that you have to find the answer.’

  ‘Ooookay. This is creepy,’ said Hudhud above the rolling of the clouds and the moaning of the wind. ‘If your question is: Am I nuts? My answer is: Yes!’

  All around them dark shadows moved as the wind picked up its pace. ‘And what do you kids say?’ continued the history teacher. ‘Yes … “Don’t sweat” if Kilkila doesn’t remember anything at all from his travels with you once and if you are back. He is not cursed … you are.’

  ‘Back from where? And the answer to what? Look, if you’re here to complain to my parents, don’t act weird. Believe me, they are weirder than you.’ Hudhud swayed on his feet uncomfortably as the history teacher’s eyes seemed to recede further into her head.

  ‘The question is: What is the answer to all wrongs? Find it, and you will return home.’ Her voice began to recede as well, into the surrounding hills, now one with the rain. ‘If you can’t find it, happy travels … lifelong.’

  A strong gust of wind blew out the candle flame. In the pitch-blackness, Hudhud felt something being shoved into his empty hand. The paper bag. The same stench rose from it, enclosing him. Suddenly, the world around him switched off like a television, all sound and light gone with a whizz.

  1

  Out of the Blue