The Third Eye (9 page)

Tara pulled Suraj and they hurried away, further into the forest. In a few moments they were out of breath.

“We have to stop now, Didi,” gasped Suraj. “I can't run anymore.”

They had reached a small clearing where the trees had thinned out and sunlight filtered in. There was very little vegetation on the ground. Tara scanned the clearing for any sign of danger. Finding none, she sank down on the ground holding the stitch in her side and Suraj flopped down beside her.

For a few moments, they looked at each other in relief and silence. Tara undid the heavy bundle she carried and took out some chappatis, an onion, and some pickles wrapped in a dried banana leaf. She put the onion on a rock, smashed it with the heel of her palm, and peeled it. The pungent vapours from the onion made her eyes water and nose twitch. She wrapped onions and pickles in a chappati
and handed it to Suraj. Then she made one chappati roll for herself. They chewed the food, listening to the sounds of the forest around them.

A koel cooed and was answered by another. A golden oriole rose from one of the trees and flew off, a fistful of sunset across a canopy of green.

“I'm thirsty, Didi. Did you bring any water?”

Tara handed him the animal skin.

“Drink sparingly, Suraj. We may have long to go before we find a stream.”

“Today the wicked witch will have to do her own work,” said Suraj, with a grin on his face.

“Yes,” said Tara. “The queen must be waiting for her tea. Except today she'll have to make it herself. And bring the water from the well, and cook and clean.”

“And wash the vessels,” piped in Suraj. “Can you imagine how angry she's going to be when she discovers her two servants have run away?”

He's hit the nail on the head, thought Tara. We were her servants, but now we are free.

“We need to move on, Suraj. We have to find a safe place to spend the night.”

The anxiety in her voice made Suraj look up from the anthill that he was prodding with a twig. Large red ants swarmed angrily to the top and spilled over the side. Suraj jumped back. He dropped the twig and ran up to her.

“Didi, what would you do if you had to carry on alone?”

Taken aback, she stared at him. He looked back at her with a serious expression.

“What do you mean?”

“What if I am not around, Didi? Can you carry on alone and find Mother and Grandfather? You must, Didi, with or without me.”

“Don't say that, Suraj. I need you with me,” said Tara in an anguished voice. “You're scaring me. Do you know something I don't?”

“I had a dream last night, Didi.”

“And?”

“I saw you climbing a mountain with a strange boy.”

“And where were you?”

“I was not there.”

Tara lunged and hugged him.

“It was just a dream, Suraj. Dreams don't come true. We're going to do this together, you and I. Don't you want to find Mother and Grandfather and be a family again?”

Suraj nodded.

They marched steadily as the day blossomed to a bright afternoon and then drooped into evening. Tara was so hungry that it felt as if there was a huge, gaping hole where her stomach should have been. She was sure Suraj felt the same. They stopped under a large kaurnar tree whose red flowers stood out like bright drops of blood amongst the dark green leaves. A welcome carpet of red petals at the foot of the tree beckoned to them. Tara unpacked some food and they chomped hungrily.

“I have a surprise for you, Suraj.”

“What Didi?”

With a flourish, Tara produced a small mango from the depths of the bag and held it out to him. The sparkle in his eyes was worth the effort she had gone to get it.

“Oh, Didi, I love you!” he said, jumping up to hug her.

Suraj peeled off the soft skin of the mango with his teeth and within seconds was biting into its sweet, orange flesh. A rivulet of juice made its way to his elbow and Tara watched, astonished, as Suraj licked it all the way from wrist to elbow.

“You dog! Stop doing that!”

Suraj continued sucking the seed that was now devoid of any flesh. At long last he stopped and buried it in the soil next to him. “Didi, how could I waste a single drop of this lovely, tasty ...”

Tara smiled. “Enough of this. Now wash up. Quick.” A couple of squirrels zipped down the tree and sat, unafraid, a few feet away from them. Barking deer and antelopes passed by in a blur of brown and white. Where there were deer, there were larger predators. Tara packed up and soon they were on their way.

They trudged on, keeping a look out for animals and poisonous insects around them. Sal, peepul, and shisham trees formed a green, leafy umbrella through which the late-evening sun filtered. Tara's eyes scanned the forest, searching for a place to spend the night.

The weakening light and increasing cacophony heralded the approach of night. The gloom deepened and an occasional star peeped between the leaves. Tara's pulse raced. What if they had to spend the night out in the open? What if they were attacked by a wild animal? What if ...? Scary thoughts ran unchecked through her head. Her grip on Suraj tightened.

Suddenly, night was upon them. All around, the forest was starting to wake up, one lazy hoot and catcall at a time. Tara gripped Suraj's hand tighter. Hers was slippery with sweat. The total darkness was like a thick, black cloud that enveloped them completely. Even the stars had disappeared.

Sounds of shuffling, snorting, and howling surrounded them as jackals, hyenas, neelgai, and leopards woke up for a night of hunting. Tara and Suraj plodded on. Roots tripped them so that on more than one occasion they sprawled headlong into the undergrowth. Neither said a word as they stumbled forward in the darkness.

“Didi, why don't you light the lantern?”

“No! We'll only attract wild animals. It is better to remain under the cover of darkness and hope for the best.”

They stumbled a few more feet when suddenly Tara saw something that made her heart leap. She squeezed Suraj's hand and he returned the squeeze. He had seen it, too: a small glow in the distance; probably some friendly villagers? They scrambled toward the light as quickly as they could.

“Be very quiet till I see who it is,” said Tara as they drew nearer.

Their steps slowed as the light became stronger. A small fire burnt brightly in a clearing. A tall, powerfully built man in a black robe paced near the fire. He walked a few steps. Stopped. Listened. Then he started pacing again.

Tara and Suraj crept closer, crouched in the bushes at the foot of a tall sal tree, and peered through the branches. They could not see the man's face but the moment he muttered to himself, Tara knew.

“Late again,” the man spoke quietly to himself. “I'll punish them for keeping me waiting.”

The shuffling of many feet made him prick up his ears. Tara and Suraj huddled closer.

The tall man had stopped pacing and positioned himself such that the light fell on his stern face and made him look even more forbidding. He was facing Tara so that she finally got a clear look at his face. Suraj whimpered and Tara clamped a hand on his mouth. Her skin was tingling and covered with goose bumps. Zarku!

In the flickering light of the fire, the third eye on his forehead throbbed with a life of its own as if impatient to open and wreak havoc on whoever displeased him. He crossed his arms and waited.

A band of men shuffled into the clearing. The light reflected off their green bodies. Their skin was almost translucent. In their chests their hearts inflated and deflated in a steady rhythm. A criss-cross of blood-engorged veins
ran up and down their bodies. Each man in the group had an ugly scar on his forehead. Tara shuddered.

Suraj closed his eyes and buried his face in Tara's shoulder. Tara was mesmerized with the horror of seeing so many of these creatures all at once. So these were the Vetalas.

The leader of the pack came forward. Sweat ran down his gaunt face, which was framed by filthy, matted hair. He saw the expression on Zarku's face and fell to his knees, quivering. He grunted pitifully and bowed several times.

“How many more men did you capture from the village of Pinjaur, Jeevan?”

Jeevan shook his head.

“None? Explain yourself.”

The words hung in the air, like arrows stopped in mid flight.

Tara was stunned. Capture?
Capture
? That meant these creatures were actually
villagers
? Remnants of her undigested meal climbed in her throat. Tara swallowed hard.

With sign language and grunts Jeevan managed to signify that the village they had raided that night had sentries and dogs at the gate.

“Did you kill the dogs?”

Jeevan looked up in confusion. It was obvious this had not occurred to him. He looked around at his companions, who refused to meet his eyes as they hung their heads in shame. He took a deep breath and shook his head.

“Fool,” roared Zarku. “You should have killed the dogs before leaving. Pinjaur's Panchayat will have more dogs and guards tomorrow night. How difficult is it to capture one villager at a time and make him one of us? Could you not get one single person from anywhere? Kalka? Saha? Sadhupur?”

Jeevan writhed on the ground in misery. The rest of his people stood behind him in absolute silence, not daring to look up. A cold smile spread across Zarku's face as he caressed his own bald head lovingly.

“You have failed me,” he said in a soft voice laden with menace. “And so, you must be punished.”

Jeevan stood up and edged backward.

“How sad that you are called Jeevan, meaning ‘Life.' Your name is about to change to Mrityu ... ‘Death.'”

Zarku's eye pulsed ominously, red light seeping out from the edges. The eyelid opened a tiny bit at a time and a red-hot ray bathed Jeevan, a pinpoint at first and then steadily growing into a powerful beam.

Jeevan grunted and sobbed, trying to edge away from the scorching red beam that grew in intensity with every passing second. Ugly red blisters pockmarked his body and became larger as one ran into the other and his skin melted into a river of green slime. His hair and flesh sizzled, giving off the most nauseating smell of rotten eggs and feces. His heart swelled and burst within his chest. Zarku's third eye was now fully open and the leader of the Vetalas was ablaze. He howled in agony and, within seconds, crumbled into a
mound of ash. The rest of the Vetalas looked aghast.

“You,” Zarku said, pointing to another large Vetala. “Come here.”

The large man shuffled forward, not daring to look Zarku in the eye.

“You will now lead the rest. Tomorrow you will come to Morni. Meet me near the old well at midnight and I will tell you which men I want captured. They are the strong ones, likely to oppose me. Once they are gone, the weak ones can be overpowered in one night! Fail me and you will join your friend here,” said Zarku, his eyes resting upon the heap of ashes.

“GO!” he called out as he strode away and disappeared into the darkness.

Tara's face was wet with tears.

“Suraj, they've gone.”

Suraj, who had refused to look at the gruesome scene, lifted his head from Tara's shoulder. His face was streaked with tears, too.

“Time's running out, Didi, isn't it?”

“
CRACK!
” A huge sound reverberated overhead as if the sky had broken into two.

Oh no,
thought Tara.
It's going to rain and we have no shelter.

The sound of thunder rolled across the sky and jagged lightning stretched from one end of the horizon to the other. A soft pattering started and a cool wind swept through the trees. A few drops of cold rain touched their faces. Tara shivered. Without further warning, the skies opened and needles of rain came hurtling down, drenching everything with an equal mercilessness.

Within seconds, Tara and Suraj were soaked. The rain had come so suddenly that they had had no time to pull out the reed mats from their bundles. Their icy clothes clung to their wet skin as they pressed closer to each other, huddled under the tree. It afforded very little shelter and the rain continued unabated. Tara tugged at the bundle she carried
but she was shivering so much that she could barely undo the knot. She gave up and moved closer to Suraj. After a few hours that seemed like an eternity to them, the deluge stopped. It was pitch black. Water dripped steadily onto the forest floor. The sounds of the night prowlers came back in full force.

Cold and shivering, they waited for daylight. The forest was alive around them, roaring, hooting, slithering, and howling. They jumped each time the noise came too close. Occasionally, Tara heard the squeal or yelp of a helpless animal uttering its last cry. She wondered how long it would be before it was their turn. She chanted every prayer she knew, to every deity they had ever worshipped, with a special prayer to Lord Ganesh.

“Didi, please can we light a fire now?”

“No Suraj, there are too many wild animals around. We cannot risk it.”

“But I'm s-soo cold,” he stuttered, his teeth chattering.

Tara cuddled him and massaged his thin body energetically. Cold, wet, and exhausted, they finally fell asleep.

•••

When Tara awoke, it was noon. The sun was directly overhead and it caressed her with warm fingers of golden light from between the treetops, driving away the chill in
the air. Suraj was nowhere in sight. Tara looked around, her heart hammering.

“Suraj,” she croaked. Then louder, “Suraj, where are you?”

A tuft of black hair peeked out from a sal tree directly in front of her, followed by twinkling eyes and an impish grin.

“Good morning, Didi. I was searching for some dry wood to start a fire. Let's eat, I'm sooooo hungry.”

When she saw him, Tara let out a deep breath. They had both survived the first night in the forest. She stood up and stretched her stiff limbs. She undid one of the bundles and pulled out a small steel vessel. Suraj had already arranged three flattish rocks for a makeshift fireplace. Tara poured enough water to make tea. Using one of the matches, she lit a small fire with the dry twigs Suraj had gathered. She huddled close to the fire so that her damp clothes could dry out. Suraj hugged his knees, staring into space.