It felt like our real mother was back. But she was only trying to get rid of us forever. I’m so scared,” he said.
His voice broke and he buried his face in her shoulder, sobbing softly.
Tara closed her eyes and took a deep breath to hold back the tears that threatened to break through her fragile self control. I’m scared too, she thought, but who can I tell?
Trying to keep her voice steady she replied,
“I wish that too, Suraj. But we have to look after ourselves till our real mother comes back. I made a promise to her. And she will be back. I’ll bring her back — I will!”
She looked deep into her brother’s eyes, trying to make him believe.
“Promise me that from now on you will not eat anything that witch gives you. Only what I feed you. Promise me, Suraj, no matter how hungry you are.”
“I promise, Didi.”
“Good. Now go to sleep and let me think. We have to escape as soon as possible. As long as I am here, I’ll not let anything happen to you.”
She smiled at Suraj. He nestled his face against her shoulder and fell asleep, tears still glistening on his thin cheeks. Tara wiped them away gently and cuddled him.
Her mind was a jumble of questions that whirled and bounced around, making her head ache. Should we tell someone in the Panchayat, or should we escape to the forest and take our chances with the wild animals?
On the one hand, the villagers were scared of Dushta the moneylender and his daughter, Kali. Who would side with two children?
But what if they chose to escape to the forest, and Suraj was killed by wild animals? What if she was killed and he was left all alone? And on and on and on. The decision was hers to make.
Her merciless mind pounded her with questions, each one landing like a sledgehammer on her heart. She tossed and turned as her body responded to the writhing of her agonized mind.
Mother, where are you? Tara thought. In her mind’s eye she saw the beautiful Parvati, daughter of Prabala, the most powerful healer in all of India. He was a guru in Ayurveda and blessed by the gods for his intense meditation.
“Mother, if only I could see into the future like you can, I’d know what to do,” sighed Tara.
Tara sat up, too unhappy to sleep. She checked to see if Suraj was asleep and then, making sure that the thin sheet was snug around him, she tiptoed to the kitchen for a drink of water. She eyed the heavy black skillet that lay on the blackened bricks longingly. One hard smack on her head and she would sleep till morning; unconsciousness was also a kind of sleep! She shook her head at her silliness and poured herself water from the earthen pot. The familiar fragrance of wet clay wafted up and she inhaled deeply, feeling a slight sense of calm.
As she sipped water from the glass, she opened the back door for some fresh air and shivered as a cold draft rushed in. She sat down on the doorstep and stared up at a sky awash with stars.
“What am I to do, Mother? Father is useless! Wherever you are, please hear me ... help me.”
She heard her mother’s voice in her mind, almost as if she were sitting next to Tara, whispering in her ear.
“Whenever you need help, Tara, pray to Lord Ganesh. He helps those in trouble and removes the most insurmountable obstacles. Go to his temple and make an offering.”
Tara jumped up. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? She tiptoed to the main room and arranged her pillow under the sheet next to Suraj so no one would notice her absence. Then she crept back into the kitchen and filled a small bowl with sugar to take as an offering to Lord Ganesh. She draped an old shawl around her and silently walked out the back door.
The forest was wide awake. Owls hooted and bats zoomed overhead like black shadows. She heard the steady drone of insects and lizards on their nocturnal forages. Occasionally she heard a deep roar of a tiger and the squealing of a wild pig.
Surrounded by these familiar sounds, she jogged along the path to the temple a short distance away, a full moon lighting the way. The wind rustled through the trees and the shadows stirred around her. She was quite at peace till she heard the sound of feet behind her.
Tara’s heart leapt to her throat. She looked back, straining to see who it was. The road was empty. She sensed something or someone following her and started running. Her leather shoes slapped against the packed mud road as she sprinted for the safety of the temple, looking around her. Shadows moved and melted into each other. She smelt a foul smell, like the time a rat had died in their house.
“Lord Ganesh, look after me,” she prayed as she ran. Thankfully, the footsteps did not follow her up the temple steps. Tara bounded up and stepped through the wooden doors, gasping for breath. On a dais was a large clay figure of a man with a pot belly. The head was that of an elephant. Colourful clay jewels adorned the bare chest and a beautiful crown with multi-coloured stones graced the elephant’s head. Smudges of vermillion powder lay on the forehead and tusk of the deity. He had four hands, each holding a different article. Tara stepped forward and poured the sugar in a small white mound at the feet of Lord Ganesh. She kneeled and whispered a prayer.
“Give me strength, my Lord. What should I do?”
A spitting, hissing sound roused her. She sat up and looked around. In the dim room lit by small clay lamps she saw a cat pawing at something in a corner. Tara picked up a lamp and walked to the back of the room. A small black ball of fur was quivering in the corner: a mouse! The cat pawed and hissed at it. The mouse bared his teeth and then cowered as the cat moved closer.
“Shoo,” said Tara, waving her hand. The cat turned and glared at her with jaundiced eyes. It was a dirty grey, and painfully thin. The mouse emitted a pathetic squeak and the cat turned its attention back to it, ignoring Tara.
“Shoo,” she said again, raising her voice. Balancing on her left foot she slipped off a mojri from her right foot. She brandished it and advanced on the cat.
“Get away, go” she snarled in a low, yet firm, voice and waved the shoe convincingly. The cat spat at her and then slunk away. The mouse was still quivering in the corner. Tara reached out for the bundle of fur. The mouse allowed her to lift him onto her palm. She raised it to eye level and mouthed softly,
“You’re safe now, little mouse. Go home to your family.”
Tara shook her head. I have no one to talk to and now I’m talking to a mouse. The mouse was looking at her earnestly. She lowered her palm to the floor and slid the mouse off it. It streaked to the hole at the foot of the deity and disappeared from sight. Tara put on her shoe and returned to her kneeling position in front of the statue.
“I helped your companion escape today, Lord. Please give us your blessings for our escape.”
It was well-known that a mouse was supposed to be the faithful servant and companion of Lord Ganesh.
Tara touched her forehead to the clay feet one last time and, shuffling backwards to the entrance so that she did not offend the Lord by showing her back to him, she exited the temple.
Outside, she searched the shadows, her heart thumping against her ribcage. She saw no one as she ran down the steps and sprinted home.
