reached for the largest burning log and dragged it out of the fire. The burning wood singed her palms, but she did not feel a thing. She dropped the wood onto the Vetala’s feet as he struggled with Ananth. The stench of scorching flesh filled the cave. Howling, the Vetala ran for freedom. Ananth jumped off and the shrieking Vetala disappeared into the night.
For a moment, there was silence. Tara sat up and dragged herself toward Ananth, who was lying still. He was bleeding profusely from the numerous cuts and scrapes on his arms and face. There was a particularly deep and ugly scratch on his right check that looked very painful.
“Ananth, are you all right?”
“Water,” he croaked.
Tara ran to get the animal skin and brought it to him. She poured the cool water into his mouth, trying not to look too horrified at the bruises and cuts he had suffered. Revived, Ananth managed to crawl over to the bedding and collapsed on it. Tara built up the fire, all the while darting anxious looks at Ananth. She was lucky to have escaped with nothing more than a few scratches. Ananth had saved her. She dipped a cloth in water and started cleaning Ananth’s wounds. Guilt coursed through her veins when she realized that he had saved her life and she had thought he was going to abandon her. What a suspicious fool I am, she chided herself bitterly as her hands moved gently across Ananth’s face.
“Owww, ouch,” came a steady stream from Ananth.
“Just a bit more, Ananth. Keep still.”
He opened his eyes gradually.
“Tara, I’m hurting all over. It feels like I’m on fire. What if I ...”
“Shhh. Don’t talk.”
In a short while, she had cleaned up all his bruises as best as she could, though his face was starting to swell up and the cut on his cheek was an angry red, bursting at the seams.
“Not him too, Lord. You can’t do this to me,” she muttered.
As the night progressed, Ananth got worse. His skin was flushed and hot. A sudden fear gripped her as she realized that, once again, she was all alone, and it was up to her to save their lives and find her grandfather. The walls of the cave seemed to be closing in on her, squeezing all the air out. Get a grip, said a stern voice in her head. You start panicking at the first sign of trouble. You don’t have that luxury right now. Both your lives are in your hands.
Yes, she thought. I have to think clearly. Make some medicine to fight the poison, yes that’s it. Tulsi, ritha, amla, and neem.
She realized with a sick feeling that she did not have any neem leaves. Doesn’t matter. Just make the best of what you have. Hurry ... you don’t have time, said the little voice.
With shaking hands she put the remaining water to boil and tipped the precious herbs into it. She kept checking on Ananth every few minutes. He was delirious.
“Ananth, talk to me. Say something,” she begged as she blew on the infusion. Tears leaked out as she realized it had been a while since Ananth had last spoken. Some of her tears plopped into the cooling water. I hope the salt does not ruin the medicine, she thought, blowing hard to cool the concoction.
She ran to Ananth and, cradling his head in her lap, she tried to force his pale lips open to pour the liquid in. He did not respond at all, and she had to squeeze it into his mouth a few drops at a time. A sense of déjà vu came upon her as she prayed and cried alternately. The night was long. Ananth thrashed restlessly, the cut on his face becoming more livid and swollen, so that his cheek looked like a ripe fig about to burst.
In the quiet hours between night and dawn, Ananth stopped thrashing and Tara could feel the life seep out of him, as water from a cracked cup.
She bent low and gazed at his face. His mouth opened and he sighed very deeply.
“NO!” she cried out as she felt the last breath escape his body. “I will not lose you, too.”
His face was serene as the pain left him. Tara hugged him to her, sobbing fiercely, hoping by some miracle to infuse life into him. It was the hour before dawn and there was a pin-drop silence. Suddenly, she heard the clip-clop of hooves. A greenish light appeared at the mouth of the cave. Tara clutched Ananth tightly to her. As she stared at the mouth of the cave through tear-blurred eyes, she had a terrible premonition of what she was about to see. Lord Yama, the God of Death, stepped in. His enormous green body filled the cave and he carried a black mace slung over his shoulder.
“Let him go, Tara. Ananth is now mine.”
“NO!” shrieked Tara. “He was fighting to save my life. You cannot take him. Bring him back to life.”
“He is dead, Tara, and therefore mine. Give me his body and go your own way.”
“NO! I am not leaving him.”
Lord Yama got off the red bull and approached Tara.
“Stay away!” Tara yelled.
Lord Yama raised his hand, and Tara felt her strength drain away. Lord Yama gently lifted Ananth’s body and walked to where the bull stood still, swishing its tail.
Tara hobbled after him and fell at his feet, begging and babbling.
“Please don’t take him. This is the last person I have in the world. Please spare him. Someone, anyone, help me ...”
Lord Yama looked at her and the harsh lines on his face softened.
“Tara, death of a loved one is always hard to bear. There is nothing you or I can do. Be brave and get on with your life.”
He got astride the bull and started to move away from her.
Tara jumped up. The story of Savitri and Satyaban flashed through her mind. She knew what she had to do. She followed the greenish glow and the sound of the bull’s hooves out of the cave and down the steep mountainside.
Lord Yama heard her following and called out.
“Go back. You cannot follow us.”
A cold wind froze the tears on her cheeks and numbed her hands and feet, but she kept walking.
“Go back, Tara. He is dead and you are not.”
“If Savitri could follow her husband and get him back, then I can get my brother back,” replied Tara. “I am not turning back. Do what you will.”
“That was just a story, Tara, and stories do not come true. You are making me very angry.”
With a roar, Lord Yama got off the bull and strode up to Tara. At each step he grew larger and looked more forbidding than ever with his green skin, his long hair, his stern expression, and his massive hands clenched into fists. He towered over Tara and brought his face inches away from hers and thundered,
“GO AWAY OR ELSE!”
Tara cowered before him. But she did not run away.
“Kill me and put me out of my misery,” she yelled. “I do not want to live all alone. I have lost everyone I’ve loved.
