The Third Eye (21 page)

“Yes, she is,” said Prabala, looking back at Tara with pride.

“I have one last request for you, my Lord.”

“Speak.”

“Can you please take the ashes of Zarku and bury them in a deep, dark place so that he will never defile this earth again?”

“I will not touch the ashes of a soul so corrupt. I will send one of my messengers to collect and dispose of them. Leave them in a tightly sealed earthen pot by the banyan tree.”

Prabala nodded. “It will be done, my Lord. Thank you once again.”

Lord Yama got onto his bull and disappeared into the forest.

Prabala picked up Tara. The girl was barely conscious, but she still managed a faint smile. He kissed her forehead gently and strode back to his hut. Tendrils of pink and gold adorned the sky like banners heralding the approach of a joyous day.

When Tara awoke she was back in Prabala's hut, her head cradled in her mother's lap. Parvati peered at her anxiously.

“Tara, are you all right?”

“I'm fine, Mother. How is Grandfather?”

“He is well. He has gone with Ananth to remove all traces of Zarku from the village and to talk to the Panchayat.”

“I must go and help him.”

“Haven't you done enough, Tara? You have changed so much from the time I left you. I am very happy and extremely proud.”

Tara smiled.

“Yes, these last few weeks have made me grow up in a hurry. And you know the best thing?” said Tara, her eyes sparkling. “I'm not so scared all the time.”

Parvati hugged Tara. Suraj, not wanting to be left out, joined in the hug.

“I wish Father were here,” said Tara. “It would be like old times, before you went away.”

“I want to see your father, too,” said Parvati. “We have to wait till Prabala gets back. And ... here he is.”

Prabala walked in with Ananth.

“Looks like our little tigress is awake,” he said, smiling at Tara.

“Don't say that, Dada. Has everything returned to normal in Morni?”

“Yes. The men who were Vetalas have all returned to their normal selves. As soon as Zarku died, the spell weakened. They've all gone to their families now.”

“And the women and my friends?” asked Tara. “Can you not hear them?”

And Tara realized that there indeed was a lot of noise in the background. The village sounded normal once more.

“Father, where is Shiv?”

“Ah yes, Parvati. Shiv is at home waiting for you.”

“And Kali?”

“The villagers realized that it was she and her father Dushta who had invited Zarku to the village. They are holding Kali and Layla prisoner in one of the huts.”

“I want to talk to Kali, and ask her what drove her to do this,” said Parvati, distressed.

“Go to Shiv, first.”

They all went together: Parvati, Tara, and Suraj.
The street thronged with villagers, all discussing the catastrophe.

Normal. Things are back to normal
, thought Tara, breathing in the cold, clean air. A big grin was plastered on her face and her heart was light as they raced home. As they neared the hut, they slowed down. There was no sound from inside. Parvati stepped in. Tara and Suraj followed. Shiv sat in a corner, his head in his hands.

“Shiv!” said Parvati.

“Father!” Tara and Suraj yelled out in unison.

Shiv looked up in amazement. He jumped to his feet and ran to them.

“You are back. I thought I had lost my family forever.”

He embraced them all at once.

“Prabala told me everything,” said Shiv. “Why did you go away, Parvati? We could have convinced the villagers together.”

“I had to go away, Shiv, or the children would have suffered. The villagers are so ignorant. Sooner or later we would all have been in danger.”

“Kali is to blame for the hell we have been through these last few months,” Shiv said, his face twisted in pain and disgust.

“Yes, Shiv, she is to blame for everything that we and Morni have been through. I thought she was my friend and I tried my best to be a good friend to her, but she was too jealous of our happiness.”

Parvati clutched Shiv's hand as she wiped her tears away.

“All I remember is going to her hut one evening. There I met Zarku, and after that I do not remember anything.”

“You mean you do not remember that Kali ill-treated us and starved us?” asked Tara, her eyes wide with surprise.

He shook his head.

“I am so sorry, my dearest hearts. It must have been terrible to think that your father did not care about you at all.”

“Zarku must have hypnotized you so that you would not remember your true family or love your children,” said Parvati. “I think Kali was counting on Zarku killing Prabala and me so that she would have you to herself forever.”

Shiv wept silently.

“We understand, Father,” said Tara, hugging him. “You don't need to say any more.”

“We are together now,” said Parvati, in a whisper. “That is all that matters.”

“And what is to become of Kali?” asked Tara.

“She will be lynched tomorrow,” replied Shiv.

“No, that would be very wrong,” said Parvati. “Taking a life is only in the hands of the gods. We have to stop it.”

“She deserves to die a painful death,” said Shiv, his face a grim mask. “She has brought so much unhappiness into our lives. She deserves it.”

“No one deserves death,” said Parvati. “We should turn her out of the village. That will be punishment enough.”

“Mother, what about Layla?” asked Suraj. “Will she go with Kali?”

“No,” said Parvati. “We will keep her. It is not the child's fault that the mother is so evil.”

“You are wrong, Mother,” said Tara with passion in her voice. “Layla is growing up to be exactly like her mother. She is evil! She used to enjoy getting Suraj and me into trouble. She will be just like Kali when she grows up, believe me, Mother.”

“Tara is right,” said Suraj, very forcefully.

“That's enough, children. The elders will decide the fate of Kali and Layla. You both need to sleep for a bit. You have been awake all night.”

Parvati helped Shiv to roll out the bedding and in a short while the children were asleep. Shiv and Parvati continued talking late into the day.

•••

That evening, after all the families had rested, the elders met in the village centre. The entire village turned up. Tara and Suraj went on ahead and settled themselves near the Panchayat.

“Look at our tree; it's gone,” said Raka in a grief-stricken voice.

Villagers bemoaned the loss of their beloved tree, which had provided shade for countless years. A burnt stump, sticking out of the ground like an eyesore, was all
that was left.

“Gather round, people of Morni,” said Raka. “We need to make some serious decisions.”

They all sat solemnly, facing Raka. Prabala came striding up and joined them. A few minutes later, Parvati and Shiv arrived. The meeting started.

“Bring Kali here,” Raka commanded.

A dishevelled Kali was led to the meeting from a nearby hut, where she had been held captive. She kicked and screamed profanities at the villagers as they dragged her in front of the Panchayat.

As Kali passed Tara sitting in the crowd, she freed herself and lunged at Tara's throat.

Tara slapped Kali's hand away and gave her a hard push. It had been an instinctive reaction. And it felt really good.

Villagers restrained Kali none too gently and dumped her unceremoniously on the ground. A sea of accusing eyes bored into her. The people were barely able to stop themselves from stoning her to death.

Raka started speaking.

“We have had a terrible fate befall our village since Zarku arrived. We all know now that it was Kali and her father Dushta that invited them here. It is lucky for Dushta that he was killed in last night's fight or he too would be standing trial with you. Why, Kali? Why did you bring this evil to our village?” asked Raka.

Kali glared at the Panchayat wordlessly, with blood-shot eyes. Her hair was unkempt and surrounded her head
like a black halo. Remnants of the red juice from a betel nut dribbled out at the side of her mouth. No one could look upon her for very long without a shudder of revulsion.

“Speak, Kali, or you will be tried without a defence,” said Raka in a stern voice.

Kali spat in his direction and looked away.

Raka rose to his feet, his eyes flashing with anger.

“You will be stoned at dawn. A person like you is too terrible to let loose upon the world.”

Parvati stood up, graceful and beautiful — the complete opposite of Kali. All faces turned to her like sunflowers to the sun.

“Can we not spare her life, Rakaji?” she asked humbly, folding her hands. “Do we have the right to take her life — or any life, for that matter? We are not gods, but mere mortals.”

“Parvati, you and your children have suffered the most at her hands. She and Zarku almost killed your children. How can you even think of sparing her life? No, I will not hear of it.”

Prabala rose.

“Raka, I think we should consider turning her out of the village. How different will we be from Zarku if we have Kali's blood on our hands? Do we want to be called murderers?”

A lot of noise and debate ensued as the villagers shouted their opinions. The Panchayat whispered among themselves, debating the best course of action. Kali glared
at Parvati and Prabala.

“Quiet, everyone,” said Raka, holding up his staff.

The villagers fell silent and looked at him expectantly.

“The Panchayat has decided. Kali, you will leave the village immediately. You are to take nothing. Do not come back. There will be guards around the village. If you ever show your face here again, you will be killed immediately. Do you understand?”

“What about my daughter?” asked Kali.

“I will look after her,” said Parvati.

“
NO!
I will take her with me,” said Kali, her voice harsh and cold. “I'd rather choke the life out of her with my own hands than let you bring her up,” she spat out at Parvati.

“You will leave alone,” said Raka. “No child should ever be exposed to your evil presence, not even your own child. I pray to Lord Ganesh that none of your tainted blood runs through her veins.”

Kali spat and shrieked every curse she ever knew as the villagers dragged her to the edge of the village and threw her on the road.

“Go away and never again darken our village with your unholy presence,” said Raka with a tone of absolute finality.

Kali got up and stumbled away in the darkness.

The villagers looked at each other with weariness and relief. Raka kneeled before Prabala and touched his feet.

“We will never doubt you again, Prabala. You have
saved us all from a fate worse than death. As Zarku's army,” and he shuddered as he said the name, “the villagers would have roamed the earth killing and plundering forever, without hope of life or peace of death.”

He touched his forehead to Prabala's feet. All the villagers supplicated themselves in front of him, murmuring their thanks. Parvati smiled at Prabala, tears sparkling in her eyes. It was good to be home again.

•••

Kali stumbled in the darkness, trying to find her way to another village. It was darker than the darkness in her heart. Even Soma had withdrawn from her evil presence that night. She cursed every member of the Panchayat aloud each time she stumbled or stubbed her toe against a rock.

Sound was her only guide now. She heard the gurgling of a river. Tired and thirsty, she crawled toward it. The dry foliage turned damp as she got closer, and seeped through her clothes. She saw a faint, reddish glow through the trees. Perplexed, she crept forward to investigate. It grew stronger as she neared the edge of the river. She stood up and approached it cautiously. Entangled in the roots of a large gulmohur tree was an earthen pot. Though it was sealed, blood-red light seeped from the edges. Kali stood some distance away, staring at it, afraid to go any closer.

“Come here, you stupid woman,” said a cold and extremely familiar voice. “It's me.”

There are several people I'd like to thank for bringing this book to publication. My sincere thanks to:

Marsha Skrypuch, for her overwhelming generosity and gentle nudge in the right direction.

The Private Kidcrit critique group, which helped me hone the manuscript to its current sleek state. I'd especially like to thank Marsha Skrypuch, Helaine Becker, Hélène Boudreau, Marina Cohen, Elizabeth B., Martha Martin, Carmen Wright, Natalie Hyde, and Nancy Runstedler for their excellent critiques.

Valerie Sherrard for her timely support and advice.

Anne, Peter, and Michael Lilly for their enthusiasm and feedback during the early stages of this manuscript.

The Bedford Book Club boys: Aftab, Danny, Duncan, Jon, Peter, and Sam, who provided great insight into what makes a book “awesome.”

Rahul, for his infinite patience while this manuscript took shape over four years and twenty rewrites.

Aftab, who was my first reader and loyal fan.

Zenia and Rayhan, for their animated support.

My wonderful and warm editor Barry Jowett, whose infectious humour and enthusiasm made working to deadlines bearable, especially the weekend that HP7 was released.

And finally the fabulous team at Dundurn: Kirk Howard, Beth Bruder, Jennifer Scott, Alison Carr, Ali Pennels, and Margaret Bryant for all their hard work in bringing this book to life and for believing in me.