immediately burst into tears, an art she had perfected over time. She opened her mouth and bawled.
“MOTHER! Tara is not giving me any food.”
Kali descended on them like a thundercloud. She seized Suraj by the ear and dragged him out of the kitchen. His eyes tearing with pain, Suraj followed her meekly. Kali then turned on Tara and pushed her out of the kitchen with a violent shove.
“OUT! Get out. You should be ashamed of yourself, starving your little sister.”
“But she ...,” started Tara. “Shut up,” snarled Kali. “Not another word out of either of you. Get out of my sight.”
Smarting at the injustice, Tara and Suraj walked out into the weak November sunshine to do their numerous chores. She had gone hungry yet again and Suraj had eaten but two or three morsels of food. Not enough for a growing boy. How would they survive at this rate?
She had to weed and water the tiny vegetable patch in the front of their house, which gave them a meagre supply of tomatoes, beans, and okra — invaluable when food was scarce due to drought. Suraj had to scrub the soot-encrusted vessels with coconut husk. Before he went, he hugged Tara.
“Don’t look so sad, Didi. Are you hungry? Shall I steal some food for you?”
Tara shook her head, too choked to speak. Suraj saw her expression and hugged her even tighter.
“Ask me a riddle, Didi. Come on; let’s see if I can guess the answer.”
“Suraj, I’m all right, really.”
“Please, Didi. It’s been ages since you asked me a riddle.”
Tara gave a weak smile at the obvious effort that Suraj was making to cheer her up. He knew she loved riddles. Parvati and she used to have competitions all the time, and they kept a tally of who would solve the most riddles in the shortest time.
“Okay, Suraj. Now think carefully, because this is an easy one. Ready?”
Suraj nodded.
“It goes in green
White stones grind it
It comes out red
In a stream ... mind it!”
Suraj screwed up his face in mock concentration and Tara’s eyes sparkled.
“Come on, Suraj, it’s easy,” she teased.
Kali came to the back door and bellowed, “You two are still here? Did I not tell you to get on with your work?”
She spat a bright red stream of betel nut juice in a corner near the door, swivelled on her heel, and went in. Tara looked at the juice and looked at Suraj, her eyes dancing.
“Paan,” sang out Suraj, referring to the betel nut juice that Kali had just spat out.
Tara tousled his hair.
“You’re lucky that witch came out when she did, or you’d never have guessed.”
Suraj smiled and skipped off to do his chores. Tara turned to her task, her anger not yet forgotten. Why, Lord Ganesh? Why are you letting this happen to us?
She could handle the abuse that Kali put them through, but her heart went out to her little brother. Day by torturous day she could see his animated spirit being subdued by this spiteful woman. His laughter was less frequent, his silent spells longer.
We have to escape, she thought as she savagely uprooted plants and weeds alike and threw them into a straw basket.
There was a time when she believed her father would stand up to her stepmother, but she no longer had faith in him. Kali’s intolerable cruelty had chipped away at their happiness and confidence. “Stand up for yourself. Fight for what you believe in,” her mother had always said.
Tara remembered the one time when she had tried to stand up to Kali. After a hard slap and having to miss meals for a whole day, she never tried again.
Escape to another village far away was their only hope. She would have to plan it well. Winter in the Kalesar forest would be harsh. The dangers were many: wild beasts, the intense cold, and other “things” that inhabited the forest.
Rumours abounded in Morni about strange monsters that attacked people in the forest. Someone had called them “Vetalas” (meaning “ghosts”), and the name had spread like wildfire to all the surrounding villages. They would have to escape as soon as possible and find a safe and dry place to spend the winter while they decided where they could go. She knew of a number of villages nestled on the other side of the hills.
If only they could cross the hills, they would be safe.
CHAPTER 3 KHEER TO DIE FOR!
“People of Morni, the Panchayat have an announcement. Come now.”
The announcer ran past Tara’s hut. She immediately abandoned the weeds and stood up. Suraj was already by her side. Hand in hand, they followed the crowd to the banyan tree in the village centre to be closer to the Panchayat. Tara had a feeling this was going to be a very important announcement. “Kamlaji,” Tara addressed her neighbour respectfully, “do you know what’s going on?”
“No,” said the lady, quickening her step before Tara could ask another question.
Tara looked at the receding back with an ache in her heart. Kamlaji had been a lot friendlier when her mother had been around. Once again her lips moved involuntarily, in prayer for her mother’s return.
They reached the banyan tree and sat down close to the raised platform that encircled it.
Raka and the four elders that made up the village Panchayat were already seated in a semi-circle, looking grim. As soon as everyone had settled down, Raka began without any preamble.
“I saw the mor this morning. The bird came at dawn and danced for a long time before it disappeared.”
“Are you sure?” asked a wizened old man who appeared to be a hundred years old.
Raka nodded.
“What does this mean, seeing a peacock?” asked a villager. “I thought seeing a peacock was a thing of joy. It’s a beautiful bird, no?”
“Not in this case,” answered Raka. “Our village is named after the peacock for a reason. As legend goes, whenever Morni is in danger, a peacock comes to the village and warns us. It has been so long since Morni has been in danger that the legend was forgotten ... until today!
“You’ve seen a peacock’s tail, haven’t you?” asked Raka.
The villager nodded, looking perplexed. “Have you noticed that the circles on its tail resemble eyes?”
The villager raised his eyebrows. “I never thought of it that way.”
“The
