City of Ghosts (23 page)

Sohni was quick-footed but Mohni's old body betrayed him: his right knee gave way and he fell to the ground. Sohni turned to see him looking up at his attackers. She watched in horror as the Chinaman let out a blood-curdling cry, dropped his knife and pounced on Mohni with his claws. The old man stood no chance: his attacker was like a tiger tearing apart its prey. Within seconds the Chinaman had dug out
Mohni's eyes, torn off his ears and bitten away his nose.

Sohni attempted to scream but found herself voiceless. The Chinaman looked up at her, a chunk of Mohni's flesh hanging from his blood-soaked mouth. He smiled for a moment and then stood up.

‘Now,' Sohni heard her stepmother say, ‘it's her turn. Leave her breathing. I want to cut out her heart while it still beats.'

Sohni, unable to utter a word, froze to the spot as the Chinaman pounced.

Gurdial watched as Gulbaru Singh's assistant left for the day. Moti-Lal did not notice him as he walked off down Amritsar's main street. Once Gurdial was sure that he would not return, he stepped into the doorway. Gulbaru was behind the counter, writing something in a ledger. Gurdial coughed to get his attention. Sohni's father looked up, and for a moment failed to recognize Gurdial. But then a sneer spread across his face.

‘What do you want?' he spat out.

‘I've come to claim my wife,' replied Gurdial calmly.

Gulbaru snorted. ‘Would you like me to give you my money as well?' he asked sarcastically.

Gurdial edged forwards. In his right hand he carried a small white bag; inside it was a piece of blue stone. He held it up. ‘I've brought you what you asked for,' he said.

Gulbaru looked from the bag to Gurdial and back again. ‘What is
that
?' he asked. ‘I
asked
you for the most precious thing in the whole of India—'

‘What is more precious than this?'

‘Are you
mad
? I don't even know what you have, so how can I know if it's precious?'

‘The bag contains a stone,' explained Gurdial. ‘And the stone will give you anything you want. Anything . . .'

Gulbaru's sneer disappeared. He looked at the bag once more and Gurdial saw the interest in his eyes.

‘A
stone
?'

Gurdial nodded. ‘Yes. A
nagmani
. . .'

The cloth merchant's eyes lit up. ‘Never!'

Gurdial threw the bag to him and told him to see for himself. Gulbaru opened it quickly and pulled out the shiny blue element. He held it up to the light and examined it.

‘You expect me to believe that this is the legendary
nagmani
itself?'

Gurdial smiled. ‘So you've heard of it?'

‘Prove it,' Gulbaru said, challenging him.

‘I know what you want more than anything in the world,' Gurdial told him.

‘How can you possibly know that?'

‘The stone . . . It shows you things . . .'

Gulbaru looked unimpressed.

‘All right . . .' continued Gurdial. ‘Get a large bowl of water and put the stone in it.'

Gulbaru thought about it for a moment before replying. ‘No,' he said. ‘I am not the pauper here.
You
get me a bowl.'

‘As you wish,' answered Gurdial.

He went into the back room and took a large wooden bowl down from a shelf. He carried it back to Gulbaru and asked where he could get some water. Gulbaru pointed to an earthenware jug sitting on the opposite side of the shop. Gurdial thanked him; he poured some water into the bowl, then set it down in front of Gulbaru.

‘Now what do I do?' the man asked.

‘Put the stone in the water,' replied Gurdial. ‘Slowly . . .'

Gulbaru looked into Gurdial's eyes. ‘If this is some sort of trick, I will kill you,' he threatened. ‘And count yourself lucky that you are not already dead. I know that you have taken my daughter's honour.'

Gurdial felt himself blush but he kept his nerve. His journey had turned him from a boy into a man; now was the time to show it. ‘Just put the stone in the water,' he demanded.

Gulbaru looked at the stone in his hands. What if the boy
was
telling the truth and it really
was
a
nagmani
? He studied it closely. He had no idea what a
nagmani
would look like; it was a myth, a legend. But what if it really was what the boy claimed? Finally, after a little more deliberation, he dropped the stone gently into the water. Then he stood back, expecting something to happen instantly. But the stone simply sat where it was, and the ripples it had created on the surface of the water subsided.

‘Nothing is happening,' he remarked, his eyes glued to the bowl.

‘That's because you haven't asked it to show you anything.'

Gulbaru said nothing.

‘Let me,' suggested Gurdial. ‘I know what it is you seek . . .'He moved closer and bent down so that his lips were only a few inches from the surface of the water. Gently, he blew on the stone and then whispered to it: ‘Gulbaru Singh wishes for nothing more than a son. Show him . . .'

Gurdial prayed that the old woman's magic would work; that Gulbaru would see what he wanted to see. He remembered the story that the Irula had told him – the rajah who had fooled himself. But the water in the bowl remained calm and the stone did nothing.

‘What is this?' Gulbaru demanded.

For a moment Gurdial lost his faith in the old woman. But then something remarkable happened. Gulbaru gasped as the water around the stone began to bubble, slowly at first, then faster. Suddenly the stone lit up, its heart burning with blue flames. The light within it pulsed on and off many times before a picture began to emerge at its core. The picture grew and grew until it became crystal clear. It showed a woman holding a baby boy and crying.

Gurdial looked at Sohni's father. ‘Do you know that woman?' he asked.

Gulbaru stood in shock and awe. His bottom lip
began to tremble as he fought to hold back tears. He fell to his knees and sang praises to the Gurus, his eyes never leaving the picture before him. How did the boy know what he dreamed of? How could the stone show him such things? It had to be . . .

‘Do you know who she is?' repeated Gurdial.

‘Yes,' sobbed Gulbaru, his resistance gone. ‘It is my wife . . .'

It took Gurdial ten minutes to calm Gulbaru. When he'd stopped sobbing, Gurdial told him the rest.

‘Your wife is with child,' he revealed.

This time there was no hatred in the reply he received. Gulbaru needed no more proof that the boy had indeed brought him the mystical
nagmani
. What else could explain the miracle he had just witnessed? He nodded.

‘But she plots to kill Sohni,' continued Gurdial.

He watched as Gulbaru's brain registered his words and his face betrayed his shock. For a moment Gurdial felt anxious that he wasn't with Sohni himself but then he calmed down. There was no way the woman would let anything happen to her; she had promised. And after all that he had seen, Gurdial had complete trust in her powers.

‘The
nagmani
knows all,' he said. ‘
You
ordered Sohni's death. You killed your first wife. On your hands too are the stains of infanticide. From this truth you cannot hide. But be warned, Gulbaru Singh, if your wife
succeeds in her evil act, your son will join his sisters in the next life before he has ever taken a single breath in this one—'

‘
No!
' shouted Gulbaru.

Gurdial fixed him with a steely glare. ‘Yes,' he replied. ‘The only hope you have of saving your unborn son is to save your first born too.'

Sohni closed her eyes and let out a scream, bracing herself for the Chinaman's attack. But it never came. Instead she heard a powerful, commanding voice.

‘
STOP!
'

Sohni opened her eyes to see the Chinaman frozen in mid pounce and Darshana rooted to the spot. Her brain failed to understand what she saw. She turned towards the source of the voice. It was a woman, short in stature but with a regal air. She wore a black shawl over her head and a white
salwaar kameez
. By her side sat a black dog with powerful jaws and a thick neck. Its eyes seemed to burn like fire. The woman held her left arm up in the air; she smiled at Sohni, and then let it drop. As soon as it returned to her side, the Chinaman fell to the ground. Sohni watched as he turned over and sprang to his feet again. Darshana remained frozen, as did the dog.

‘You know who I am,' the woman said.

The Chinaman wiped away the remnants of blood from his lips before nodding slowly.

‘Then you know what will happen. Your days of sorcery and murder are at an end.'

The Chinaman smiled. ‘It must come to us all,' he said sadly. ‘I have lived a long life – I look forward to the next.'

Before anyone could move, the woman clenched her right hand into a fist. As she did so, Sohni's attacker fell to his knees, his hands clutching at his throat; rasping sounds came from his mouth, his cheeks turned red and his eyes rolled back in his head. The woman held out her fist and clenched it tighter still. The Chinaman fell forward, his face now purple, the mouth set in a silent scream. His legs thrashed around for a few seconds, his eyes began to bleed, and then, with one long exhalation, he died. Only when he had stopped moving did the woman let her hand relax.

Sohni looked past the woman to the end of the alley. She thought about making a run for it, but her saviour stopped her.

‘Take heart, child. I am here to protect you . . .'

The woman crouched down and took what was left of Mohni in her arms. His blood soaked into her white clothes. She whispered softly, ‘You stupid old goat. I told you to be careful . . .'

Then she stood up and turned to Darshana, her eyes blazing. She snapped her fingers, let her shawl fall to the ground and began to laugh.

‘Who are you?' asked Darshana, stepping closer to take a better look.

‘You know who I am.'

The darkness receded just enough for Darshana to see the woman's face. ‘
No!
' she screamed.

The woman shrugged. ‘Nothing is ever what it seems. Your actions taught me that . . .'

‘B-b-but—'

‘Don't worry' – the woman's voice was suddenly comforting – ‘I only came back to bring you good news.'

Darshana's eyes widened as rivers of sweat ran down her body. ‘What news?'

‘You are with child, Darshana. A son.'

Darshana shook her head slowly. ‘No,' she whispered. ‘I cannot be with—'

The woman smiled at her. ‘Feel your belly,' she said. ‘Go on . . .'

Against her will Darshana found herself following the woman's instructions. She raised her right hand and pressed it to her belly. Within seconds something began to move inside her. It felt like tiny limbs pushing at her womb, aching to get out. She looked down at her stomach and then back up to the woman. ‘You are a demon,' she managed to spit out. ‘You cannot be . . .'

‘Yet here I am, Darshana,' answered the woman. ‘You should thank me: Gulbaru always wanted a son, and now that you have one, perhaps he won't kill you.'

The kicking and wriggling inside Darshana grew more intense. She clutched herself with both hands. There was yet more movement in her belly; it seemed to seethe and turn. She felt herself grow tense inside. Suddenly, she heard the sound of people running.

‘
Stop!
' she heard Gulbaru cry.

She turned to see him racing down the alley with a young man. He came and threw his arms around her. ‘You are pregnant!' he told her.

Darshana began to shake her head. She looked beyond her husband to the woman, who was still talking to her; Darshana could hear her voice clearly, but it was only in her head. She didn't see her move her lips once. Confusion and fear gripped her. The woman before her had died many years earlier, so how could she be standing there, talking? It had to be magic; dark magic that was much more powerful than the Chinaman's.

Gulbaru pulled her closer still, his stomach pushing her hands further against her belly. The wriggling within grew stronger.

‘Good evening, Gulbaru,' said the woman.

Gulbaru's face turned white with shock at the sound of her voice.

‘Like a maggot-ridden mango, evil eats at us from within,' she continued. ‘Behold the fruit of your loins . . .'

He stepped away from his wife to face her. He tried in vain to speak. Darshana cried out in agony: her stomach had begun to twitch and spasm.

The woman smiled at Gulbaru. ‘Don't you want to see what you have created?' she asked him.

Gulbaru spun round just in time to see his wife's belly erupt with blood; deep, dark, purple blood – and after the blood, small black rats – thousands and thousands of them – dropped to the floor, surging over his feet until
they had disappeared into the night. Darshana's body slumped wearily to the ground. Her single thick black brow twitched once, and then she was gone.

The woman looked at Gurdial. He had taken Sohni by the shoulder and stood in a protective manner, shielding her from the terrible sight.

‘Take Sohni into the house,' she ordered. ‘I have something to finish here . . .'

Gurdial nodded and led Sohni back into the garden. He moved quickly, not once turning his head to see what was happening in the alley. He had already seen enough.

The woman waited until they were gone before turning to Gulbaru. ‘You have no time left,' she told him.

‘But we
killed
you,' he whispered in reply, his voice breaking.

‘Yes, you did,' replied Heera. ‘But Love stopped me from dying.'

Suddenly Gulbaru's face changed. His eyes clouded with rage, his temples pulsed with anger and his heart pounded in his chest. He drew a knife from his waistband.

‘Well, this time not even the Gurus themselves will save you,' he spat.