The Third Eye (4 page)

“
OUT!
Get out. You should be
ashamed
of yourself, starving your little sister.”

“But she ...,” started Tara. “Shut up,” snarled Kali. “Not another word out of either of you. Get out of my sight.”

Smarting at the injustice, Tara and Suraj walked out into the weak November sunshine to do their numerous chores. She had gone hungry yet again and Suraj had eaten
but two or three morsels of food. Not enough for a growing boy. How would they survive at this rate?

She had to weed and water the tiny vegetable patch in the front of their house, which gave them a meagre supply of tomatoes, beans, and okra — invaluable when food was scarce due to drought. Suraj had to scrub the soot-encrusted vessels with coconut husk. Before he went, he hugged Tara.

“Don't look so sad, Didi. Are you hungry? Shall I steal some food for you?”

Tara shook her head, too choked to speak. Suraj saw her expression and hugged her even tighter.

“Ask me a riddle, Didi. Come on; let's see if I can guess the answer.”

“Suraj, I'm all right, really.”

“Please, Didi. It's been ages since you asked me a riddle.”

Tara gave a weak smile at the obvious effort that Suraj was making to cheer her up. He knew she loved riddles. Parvati and she used to have competitions all the time, and they kept a tally of who would solve the most riddles in the shortest time.

“Okay, Suraj. Now think carefully, because this is an easy one. Ready?”

Suraj nodded.

“It goes in green

White stones grind it

It comes out red

In a stream ... mind it!”

Suraj screwed up his face in mock concentration and Tara's eyes sparkled.

“Come on, Suraj, it's easy,” she teased.

Kali came to the back door and bellowed, “You two are still here? Did I not tell you to get on with your work?”

She spat a bright red stream of betel nut juice in a corner near the door, swivelled on her heel, and went in. Tara looked at the juice and looked at Suraj, her eyes dancing.

“Paan,” sang out Suraj, referring to the betel nut juice that Kali had just spat out.

Tara tousled his hair.

“You're lucky that witch came out when she did, or you'd never have guessed.”

Suraj smiled and skipped off to do his chores. Tara turned to her task, her anger not yet forgotten.
Why, Lord Ganesh? Why are you letting this happen to us?

She could handle the abuse that Kali put them through, but her heart went out to her little brother. Day by torturous day she could see his animated spirit being subdued by this spiteful woman. His laughter was less frequent, his silent spells longer.

We have to escape
, she thought as she savagely uprooted plants and weeds alike and threw them into a straw basket.

There was a time when she believed her father would stand up to her stepmother, but she no longer had faith in
him. Kali's intolerable cruelty had chipped away at their happiness and confidence. “Stand up for yourself. Fight for what you believe in,” her mother had always said.

Tara remembered the one time when she had tried to stand up to Kali. After a hard slap and having to miss meals for a whole day, she never tried again.

Escape to another village far away was their only hope. She would have to plan it well. Winter in the Kalesar forest would be harsh. The dangers were many: wild beasts, the intense cold, and other “things” that inhabited the forest.

Rumours abounded in Morni about strange monsters that attacked people in the forest. Someone had called them “Vetalas” (meaning “ghosts”), and the name had spread like wildfire to all the surrounding villages. They would have to escape as soon as possible and find a safe and dry place to spend the winter while they decided where they could go. She knew of a number of villages nestled on the other side of the hills.

If only they could cross the hills, they would be safe.

“People of Morni, the Panchayat have an announcement. Come now.”

The announcer ran past Tara's hut. She immediately abandoned the weeds and stood up. Suraj was already by her side. Hand in hand, they followed the crowd to the banyan tree in the village centre to be closer to the Panchayat. Tara had a feeling this was going to be a very important announcement. “Kamlaji,” Tara addressed her neighbour respectfully, “do you know what's going on?”

“No,” said the lady, quickening her step before Tara could ask another question.

Tara looked at the receding back with an ache in her heart. Kamlaji had been a lot friendlier when her mother had been around. Once again her lips moved involuntarily, in prayer for her mother's return.

They reached the banyan tree and sat down close to the raised platform that encircled it.

Raka and the four elders that made up the village Panchayat were already seated in a semi-circle, looking grim. As soon as everyone had settled down, Raka began without any preamble.

“I saw the mor this morning. The bird came at dawn and danced for a long time before it disappeared.”

“Are you sure?” asked a wizened old man who appeared to be a hundred years old.

Raka nodded.

“What does this mean, seeing a peacock?” asked a villager. “I thought seeing a peacock was a thing of joy. It's a beautiful bird, no?”

“Not in this case,” answered Raka. “Our village is named after the peacock for a reason. As legend goes, whenever Morni is in danger, a peacock comes to the village and warns us. It has been so long since Morni has been in danger that the legend was forgotten ... until today!

“You've seen a peacock's tail, haven't you?” asked Raka.

The villager nodded, looking perplexed. “Have you noticed that the circles on its tail resemble eyes?”

The villager raised his eyebrows. “I never thought of it that way.”

“The mor is called ‘the bird of a hundred eyes,'” said Kartik, one of the Panchayat.

“And this is a warning that we have to keep our eyes open. Danger is approaching ... or already here,” said Raka.
“I have heard that the Vetalas have been sighted at Ropar, not too far from us. Be very careful when going to the forest. Don't venture there alone and never go after dark. Is that clear? Now, go back to your chores.”

Everyone looked worried. There was a moment of silence. The villagers dispersed while the Panchayat continued chatting. Tara was slow to get up and heard one of the men say, “It was good of you to warn the villagers about the Vetalas, Raka.”

“What have we decided about Zarku?” asked another member of the Panchayat.

The word “Zarku” made Tara's skin crawl. She gave Suraj a little push.

“Go on home, Suraj. I have something important to take care of,” she whispered.

Suraj opened his mouth to say something, but Tara's expression shut him up.

“Yes, Didi,” he said and ran off.

Tara circled the tree to the spot directly behind the Panchayat and squatted below the platform so that she could hear them unseen.

“It is odd that he turns up from nowhere and knows the affairs of our village so accurately,” said Varun.

“It seems like he has an informer inside Morni,” said Raka. “Have Dushta bring Zarku here.”

Kartik called out to a passing villager, asking him to convey the message to Dushta. The villager returned with Dushta — a short man with oily black hair parted down the
middle. His eyes had a shrewd look in them as if constantly searching for the opportunity to make money. His hand alternated between stroking his pot belly and rubbing his thumb and forefinger together.

“What are you doing here?” snapped Raka. “We asked Zarku to present himself.”

“My respected elders,” said Dushta, folding his pudgy hands. “Zarku wishes to speak with Raka, after which he will present himself in front of the Panchayat.”

Raka looked annoyed at being counter-summoned. He got off the platform and strode off in the direction of Dushta's hut. Dushta sat down on his haunches next to the others to wait. A long time passed and the remaining members of the Panchayat were starting to get restless.

“What is happening?” one of them said. “Why is Raka taking so long? We should investigate.”

No sooner were the words out of his mouth when they saw Raka striding back. He reached the group and announced, “I have had a long chat with Zarku. I believe that he is an accomplished healer and much better than Prabala.”

Everyone gaped at him. Tara felt a jolt in her chest at the words.
Morni was going to replace her grandfather
. She had to bring him back.

“Raka, are you sure?” asked one of them.

“I am sure,” he said in an expressionless voice. “I want no further discussion or argument.”

“In that case, we should give him Prabala's hut and
make a formal announcement to the village,” said Kartik.

“Yes, we should do that as soon as possible. Send messengers throughout the village and let them rejoice that Morni has a new, more powerful healer,” said Raka.

They all dispersed and, a few seconds later, Tara crept away.

•••

As soon as Tara got back, she continued with weeding the vegetable patch. Suraj was nowhere to be seen. Raka's words echoed in her mind. Morni was in danger and Prabala was gone. Now Zarku would replace him. It was not fair. Her grandfather had done so much for the villagers. The least they could do was wait for him to come back or send someone to find him. He was alive and so was her mother. She knew it in her heart.

Two thin arms encircled her neck.

“Didi, I worked really hard and made all the vessels gleam, so Mother told me I could go and play till lunchtime, so I came to help you,” Suraj said, all in one breath.

Tara stood up and hugged Suraj, feeling her throat tighten.

“Thank you, Suraj. If you finish weeding this patch, I'll wash the clothes in the back. Then we can leave a bit earlier to feed Father.”

Suraj squatted on his haunches immediately, his small, brown hands tugging at the weeds. With a last look at him,
Tara went to the back of the house, collecting a pile of dirty clothes along the way.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, Tara scrubbed and beat the clothes into cleanliness and hung them to dry on a string in the backyard. The water was all used up but she was too tired to get some more. A cot resting against the backyard wall beckoned to her but she knew rest was impossible. It was time to take father his lunch. She decided to pack a few extra chappatis so they could all eat together.

“Didi, I'm done,” sang Suraj, skipping toward her.

“Shhhh! If Mother hears you, we'll both get more chores,” said Tara. “Fill a pot with water to take, and wait for me.”

Suraj pinched his lips shut and did as he was told. Tara tiptoed into the kitchen. Kali was in the front room, gossiping with a neighbour and sipping a cup of tea. Noisy slurping and hushed voices reached her ears. Layla was nowhere around. She grabbed a few chappatis and packed them into a steel plate with some leftover vegetables and dabs of mango pickle. She covered the meal with extra plates, tied a clean cloth around the package, and crept out stealthily.

Suraj was waiting for her in the backyard. Sneaking backward glances, they raced toward the banyan tree. Their father's fields were on the far side of it.

As they reached the clearing, they saw a group of people standing and talking in hushed voices. A woman stood to
one side, sobbing. Tara slowed down.

The woman's sobs grew louder. Keeping her head down, Tara walked past as slowly as she could. She gestured to Suraj to slow down as well. He stuck his tongue out at her but did as he was told.

“Shakti, oh my dear husband Shakti,” wailed the woman, sitting on the ground, beating her chest with the palms of her hands. A couple of women passing by stopped to comfort her.

“He went out yesterday to catch hares for our dinner,” she sobbed. “He has still not returned. Someone please bring my husband back to me.”

The men walked out of earshot of the women. Tara followed them, straining her ears.

“What happened? When did he disappear?” asked one villager.

“Yesterday,” replied another. He frowned and raised his head, staring into the distance. All the men followed his gaze to the Shivalik Hills. The dense forest that covered their slopes came right up to the edge of their village.

“Did Raka send a search party?”

“Yes. All they found were his slippers and his lantern. There seemed to be some black liquid and a bit of blood on the ground near the peepul tree not too far from here.”

“Sister, don't cry,” said one of the men returning to the sobbing woman. “We will find him.”

They walked off and Tara heard no more. But she knew it was serious. Rakaji had just warned them all about
the Vetalas. Men were disappearing into the forest from the other villages, never to be seen again. Shakti was the first from Morni.

And Tara was contemplating running away. Was she mad? Were they destined to starve at the hands of Kali, or should she take her chances and escape? Her head ached trying to decide. What should she do?

“
Come on
, Didi, what are you waiting for?” said Suraj, tugging at her sleeve. “I'm so hungry.”

Tara nodded and sped up.

•••

They ran all the way to their father's fields, where rice and wheat crops undulated in a green ripple, stirred by a faint breeze. Shiv was still working in the fields and Tara saw a brown speck moving in the sea of green in the distance.

“Go run and get him,” said Tara, giving Suraj a gentle push. “I'll unpack the lunch.”

Suraj sprinted toward Shiv, a blur of dark brown darting between the lush green paddy. By the time Tara had divided up the food into three plates, her father and Suraj had arrived.