LITMIR.BIZ

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some strips near the heel. Wear thick socks and you’ll be warm and comfortable. Good choice, lots of room for the toes to grow, henh?”

      He chuckled and shuffled back to the platform.

      Tara went up to him and held out the ten-rupee note. He looked up at her.

      “I cannot take that, Tara. Your mother was like a sister to me. She always brought medicine for my aching eyes and never took a paisa from me. I never believed that she was a witch.”

      A sharp intake of breath stopped him from continuing.

      “My mother, a witch?” whispered Tara. “Is that what people were saying? Is that why she ran away?” she asked in a softer voice, hands clasped at her chest.

      “Yes, Tara. Most of the villagers thought she was a witch.”

      “But why?” asked Tara, tears welling up in her eyes. “All she did was warn people of danger and save their lives.”

      “Yes, but her foretelling powers scared some of the villagers. It is always the case when one cannot understand something. They fear it! Someone poisoned the minds of the Panchayat and they decided to stone her to death.”

      Tara turned pale. Beads of sweat stood out on her forehead and she was starting to feel nauseous.

      “So that is why she had to go?”

      “Yes, and Prabala went with her. He could not let his daughter brave the forest alone. Besides, he was very disappointed with the attitude of the villagers and decided to leave to teach them a lesson.”

      “But why did no one tell us anything?” asked Tara. “Even Mother did not say a word.”

      The cobbler sighed deeply.

      “The Panchayat forbid us to speak of either of them again. And I think your mother did not want you to worry,” said the cobbler.

      Tara stared at the cobbler as thoughts churned in her head like a village-woman making buttermilk. The villagers thought her mother was a witch and they had wanted her dead. Was this the reason their father had married again? Why he hated them so much? Because they were the children of a witch? It was all too much to think about and she stood there dumbstruck. Someone tugged her kurta.

      “Let’s go, Didi. I want to go home,”Suraj pleaded.

      Tara saw the anguished look on Suraj’s face.

      “We must go, Baba,” said Tara in as normal a voice as she could. “Thank you for the shoes,” they said in unison, and hugged him.

      He kissed their foreheads and then pushed them gently toward the door.

      “Be careful, whatever you do. May Lord Ganesh be with you,” he said.

      Tara looked back at him in amazement. Did he know? But the cobbler was already engrossed in the next repair and did not look up. They walked out of the shop. Tara stuffed the shoes under her clothes and threw the red and blue shawl over her, hoping the bulge would go unnoticed till they reached home.

      As they walked to the centre of the market, Tara noticed people whispering.

      “Hai Ram, NOOOOOOOOO,” a woman howled. “Oh my son, what has happened to you? Talk to me. Say something!”

      The howling was coming from Ravi’s hut. Ravi’s old mother stood outside the door, beating her chest. Villagers who had been milling around rushed as one toward the wailing woman. Within moments a large crowd had gathered.

      Tara and Suraj, on the outskirts of the crowd, craned their necks, but the crowd was too thick. Suraj got down on all fours and rapidly crawled between the sea of legs, drawn to the noise. Not wanting to miss a thing, Tara followed him. What she saw made her sit back in shock. Suraj had stopped too, and was crawling backwards and whimpering. He buried his head in his hands, trembling violently.

      In the clearing lay Ravi, or what remained of him. His skin was an ugly shade of translucent green. Black liquid coursed visibly through his body. A black, fist-sized sack inflated and deflated in his chest. His eyes had rolled back in their sockets and he lay staring sightlessly at the crowd that pressed forward, gaping at him. His hair was matted and dirty. A foul stench emanated from his open mouth, as if something had died inside it. But what had the crowd shocked were his feet. They had turned 180 degrees, till his toes faced backwards. On his forehead was a deep gash from which oozed a black, viscous liquid. He drew in laborious gasps that sounded deafeningly loud in the pindrop silence.

      “Ravi, talk to me,” pleaded his mother, sitting next to him but not daring to touch him.

      A number of people tried to drag her away from that thing that lay on the ground. No one could understand what power could change Ravi into that deformed creature.

      Tara clamped her lips shut to prevent her breakfast from spewing out. She crawled backwards and exited the crowd as fast as she could. Who could have done this to Ravi?

      The muttering in the crowd rose to a crescendo.

      “He went to the forest looking for firewood this morning,” said someone.

      “And then he was attacked. Could it be the Vetalas?”

      “Looks like it. He came running home not a few minutes ago. He was conscious then.”

      “And he had the gash on his forehead. It was bleeding profusely. It looked like blood at first. Now it’s this black liquid.”

      “And then he turned green and his feet rotated.”

      “What in the name of Lord Ram could do this to a person?” asked another shrill voice.

      “We are all going to die. Someone call Raka. He will tell us what to do.”

      Confusion and panic abounded as someone ran to get the members of the Panchayat.

      Raka came striding up to them. He looked calmly at the misshapen body lying on the ground. Tara just could not understand how he could be so unconcerned.

      “What happened?” he asked.

      The villagers told Raka what had happened while someone led Ravi’s mother away from her son’s deformed body.

      “Call Zarku,” said Raka calmly. “If anyone can cure Ravi, he can.”

      Another villager ran off for Zarku. He returned shortly, calling out, “Make way, make way for Zarku.”

      Tara saw a bald man in a long, flowing, black robe stride up to the crowd. This was the first time she had seen him since Diwali night.

      His black eyes assessed the scene within seconds. They rested on Tara and Suraj momentarily. Tara could feel hate and anger pulsing out at her and she was stunned. Why would this healer, who was so new to Morni, hate her so much? He passed her, and the crowd parted easily to allow him to walk up to the body. The crowd closed in behind him again so that Tara could not see what was happening. A low murmur reached her as she strained to hear what Zarku was saying. She grabbed Suraj’s hand and pushed through the crowd till she could see Zarku’s face and hear him as he examined the body.

      “This is deep evil. Someone has put him under a spell and claimed his soul. Only I can free him. Bring him to my hut.”

      As soon as she heard his voice, a terrible fear clutched her heart. The voice she had heard last night, plotting with Kali to kill Tara and Suraj, was Zarku’s. It was Zarku who wanted them dead. She wanted to run and hide, but she could not move.

      The silence deepened. No one stirred. No one wanted to touch that monster. Ravi’s heart continued beating, rising and falling with each ragged breath he drew in. Green spit drooled from the side of his mouth. Zarku looked at the crowd and his mouth curled at the corners.

      “Will no one help me carry this man to my hut? He is one of your own. Surely a bit of deformity should not make him so repulsive to you?”

      Silence.

      There was an air of

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