men holding the cot threw it down so quickly that the body almost rolled off. They scattered into the jungle like shards of a smashed pot, one villager passing so close to Tara that she felt his warm breath on her skin. Within seconds, the road was empty except for the widow and her dead husband. The woman stood in a trance, unaware of the danger that faced her.
The tiger advanced toward her with a menacing growl. The chilly air and the growls of the tiger finally penetrated the widow’s stupor. Tara saw her eyes widen in shock as she shuffled backward and collided with her husband’s cot. She sat down at the head of his body, quivering. Tara was unable to move. Horrified, she continued to watch.
The tiger took one step forward and then another. Tara could see every whisker on its face; all its yellowed teeth were bared as it advanced on Ananth’s mother, and then it roared. The widow screamed in terror and fell back on the cot.
Tara could not watch anymore. She ran back to Ananth, trying to wipe out the image of the tiger and his mother.
Coward, a voice inside her said.
But what could I have done? she argued back. Give the tiger another juicy tidbit?
I can’t tell Ananth about this, she thought. He has enough to deal with already.
She reached Ananth, panting hard. He looked up at her, a question in his moist eyes.
Tara shook her head.
“I could not catch up. They were too far ahead.”
Ananth’s head sank back onto his chest.
Tara reached out, took his hand in hers, and gently tugged it. She helped him to his feet and led him to where the bundles lay. Once she was sure he was steady on his feet, she stooped to pick up the bundles.
“I’ve lost someone too,” she said. “My brother. I know what it feels like.”
Ananth shuffled quietly beside her. There was a deep silence.
“My name is Tara. You’re Ananth aren’t you? I heard you call out your name. I’m from Morni. And you are from ...?”
“Ropar,” answered Ananth in a husky voice. “We were so happy,” he continued. “Then Father died and our world fell apart. I lost a father and now I’m going to lose my mother. It’s so unfair.”
His grief overwhelmed him again and his feet crumpled under him. He sat down and covered his face as if ashamed to be so out of control. Tara sat quietly beside him, remembering yesterday.
After a while, Tara stood up and paced, shooting glances at Ananth. Spending the night in the open was making her jittery again. Wasn’t he ever going to stop crying? She had to do something.
“Ananth, you have to help me. We need to find shelter. The forest is too dangerous.” Her eyes glistened with tears and her voice trembled. Ananth sat there staring into space.
“Ananth, GET UP,” she said, shaking his shoulder. “We can’t sit here. We have to move, NOW! Let’s go back to Ropar.”
“NO!” he yelled.
“Why not?” asked Tara
“I-I can’t go back. There’s nothing there but memories. Where are you going?”
“To find my mother and grandfather.”
“Why?” said Ananth
“I’ll tell you later. Can we start walking?” asked Tara, an edge to her voice.
“Where to?”
“Do you know a safe place to spend the night?”
“Yes,” Ananth said after a moment’s silence. “It’s a bit of a climb into the mountains. There are some hidden caves where my friends and I used to play. Let’s go.”
He stood up and held out his hand for one of the bundles. Tara handed it over gratefully. Her back was sore with the extra weight. They started walking away from the village and the path that the procession had taken. Ananth took a last look in the direction that his mother had disappeared. He stared at the brown smudges in the mud almost as if he could see the footprints of his mother’s small feet. He stooped and picked up a handful of mud and let it trickle slowly through his hand.
Tara stood silently, an ache in her heart. She had not even had the chance to say goodbye to Suraj.
Abruptly, Ananth stood up and started walking. Tara followed.
•••
“How did your father die?” asked Tara.
Ananth marched silently. Now and then a tear trickled down his cheek. His pace did not slacken and Tara matched his stride in spite of the stitch in her side.
“There is something very evil in the forest,” said Ananth. “Men from our village have been disappearing. No one wants to go into the forests now. Food and firewood are becoming scarce.”
“It’s happening in Morni, too,” replied Tara in a listless voice.
“So, what happened to your father?” she asked again.
“He was hunting hares in the forest. He came back late one night. We could barely recognize him; there was a deep gash on his forehead,” said Ananth taking a deep breath to steady his voice.
“And his skin was a translucent green and his feet were at an awkward angle?” finished Tara.
“How did you know that?”
“The same happened to a boy named Ravi in Morni,” replied Tara.
“A man who called himself one of the best healers in these parts appeared and took my father to his hut. That was the last time we saw Father alive,” said Ananth, his chest heaving with anger and sorrow. “My mother wanted to go with him, but the healer refused her. He said no one could see him healing the sick or it would not work. Father died and we were given his body back to perform the last rites.
“I’ll never forget his evil face: that shark-like smile, that bald head, the black robe. He called himself —”
“— Zarku,” said Tara and Ananth simultaneously
“You know him?” asked Ananth.
“Yes. He took the place of my grandfather, Prabala, who used to be the village healer. Since he came, many men have disappeared, especially the ones that openly challenge his skills. The ones that have accepted him are unharmed,” said Tara. “I think he only preys on the strong ones likely to stand up to him. Did your father oppose Zarku in any way? Question his authority?”
“Yes,” said Ananth bitterly. “He tried to tell the Panchayat that Zarku was evil. Soon after, he died. You think the disappearances are related to Zarku?”
“I am sure of it. I saw him last night.”
Ananth stopped and Tara walked straight into him.
“What?
