LITMIR.BIZ

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She knew exactly where to look and hoped the cache was still there. Fear and hunger jostled inside her. Kali always kept some sweets in a glass jar on the topmost shelf in case her darling, overfed daughter, Layla, wanted a snack before a huge meal.

      Tara climbed onto the bottom shelf of the kitchen, stepped to the one above, and reached out for the jar on the top shelf. She inched it forward with her fingertips, her hands slippery with sweat. She knew they were already in trouble. But today was Diwali and tradition was to celebrate the start of the New Year with something sweet.

      As soon as her slippery fingers grasped the jar, she jumped down and opened it eagerly to examine the contents. Two small laddoos, sweets made of lentils and sugar, lay at the bottom. Put it back, put it back, said the small voice inside her. But the hunger was too strong. She ran out to Suraj, ignoring the voice.

      “Here you are, Suraj, Happy Diwali!” she said as she handed him one laddoo and took the other. They ate the laddoos and watched the fireworks, which had started up again. The laddoo tasted bitter to her and Tara regretted having stolen them. Suraj had already finished his so she handed him the rest of hers.

      “Are you sure, Didi?” he asked.

      “I’m sure,” she said.

      She put the empty jar beside her and gazed into the distance.

      Suraj snuggled up to Tara and she put her arm around him. She thought of this time last year, when they had also been part of the festivities. If she had only known of the sorrow awaiting them in the New Year, she would have cherished every minute spent with her mother instead of taking her presence for granted.

      Tara was jerked out of her reverie by two unpleasant incidents: an exploding firecracker, and a particularly hard slap on her face.

      “Wha...?” said Tara as she shot to her feet, holding her hand to her stinging cheek.

      Suraj had fallen asleep with his head in Tara’s lap. He jumped up, too, his eyes wide with terror. Their stepmother, Kali, towered over them. Anger and hate twisted her face into an ugly mask. The little black eyes in her fat face looked like small raisins in an unusually large, uncooked, ball of dough.

      “How dare you touch any food in the house without my permission?” she yelled, eyeing the empty jar beside them. “I told you I would be back to give you a meal, didn’t I?”

      Tara’s heart sank. I told you not to steal the laddoos, said the small voice inside her.

      “I’m sorry, Mother,” she said in a soft, pleading tone, hating herself for not standing up to Kali.

      She looked up in mute appeal at her father, standing silently behind Kali, who was still berating them. Red spittle from the paan Kali was chewing flecked Tara’s face. Her father brushed past her and entered the hut without saying a word.

      “Go to bed, both of you. NOW!” said Kali. “You have been very bad children, stealing your poor sister’s sweets.”

      As if on cue their stepsister, Layla, peeked out from behind her mother’s ample body, stuck out her tongue at them, and ran inside.

      “But I’m so hungry,” said Suraj, tears filling his eyes.

      “You should have thought of that before stealing in your own home,” snapped Kali.

      Tara knew she was responsible for this. If she had amused Suraj somehow till Kali came back ...

      She cringed inside as the tears cascaded down Suraj’s cheeks. Gently, she steered him into the hut and made for a corner of their two-room mud hut to make their bed for the night. She unrolled a thin, straw mat on the floor and curled up on it with Suraj. Shaking out a torn, threadbare sheet, she covered them both and closed her eyes to block out Kali’s malevolent stare, which followed their every move. Finally, her stepmother moved away into the kitchen to prepare the evening meal and Tara could breathe peacefully.

      The fragrance of freshly boiled basmati rice and chicken curry wafted to where they lay. Tara’s stomach grumbled in protest. She heard an answering grumble from her brother’s stomach. They both loved chicken curry.

      “I hate you, Kali,” she whispered under her breath, feeling weak, hungry, and very tired.

      Her fingers sought the gold chain around her neck. She slid her hand along the chain and pulled out the mirror her mother had given her. She always kept it hidden from Kali lest that cruel woman take away this last memento of Parvati’s, which Tara treasured more than any other possession. She held it up and, by the light of the lantern, looked into the mirror. The red stones seemed to be on fire and the blue stones swirled with shadows.

      Soft brown eyes in a thin face with high cheekbones stared back at her. There were deep shadows under her eyes. The full mouth, normally upturned at the corners, seemed to be drooping. Thick brown shoulder-length hair, well oiled and plaited, framed her face. The only sparkle in her face was from a tiny silver nose stud that she wore.

      “Where are you, Mother? We miss you so much,” she whispered.

      Suraj moved closer to Tara.

      “Why did Mother go away, Didi? WHY? I hate her for leaving us!”

      “Shh, Suraj, I am sure she had a reason, though I wish I knew what it was.”

      Almost a year had gone by and they had not seen their mother or their grandfather, who had both disappeared on the same day. The worst part was that no one wanted to talk about it or answer any questions. It was maddening! There were a hundred questions in her mind and no answers. Why had they disappeared? Where were they now? Were they dead? And the most important, would they ever come back?

      Tara held on to the belief that her mother would be back, like a drowning person hanging on to a floating piece of wood. If she let go of that belief, she would drown in the sorrow that seemed to be swirling around her. What would happen to Suraj then?

      At long last the sounds of smacking and slurping subsided. Both she and Suraj pretended to be asleep as soon as they heard Kali come into the room to make up her bed. Kali and Layla shared a cot and Shiv had another one. Tara and Suraj slept on the floor because there were no more spare cots. Soon, everyone was in bed and the lantern was doused.

      Moonlight filtered in through the window in the front room, making bright patterns on the mud floor. Tara shivered as a frigid gust of wind ruffled through the straw on the roof and swept in through the cracks. A cloud moved across the face of the moon and plunged the room into momentary darkness. Tara moved closer to Suraj, the warmth of his body comforting her. She was thankful for the thick, woollen clothes, which afforded some padding on the cold, hard floor. She could not sleep. In the distance, she heard a stray dog barking. The incessant sounds of lizards, as they ran around the outer wall of the hut seeking flies, kept her company. The cloud passed and moonlight lay in silver puddles on the floor once again.

      Suraj whimpered in his sleep and turned restlessly.

      “Mother,” he whispered.

      Tara stroked his forehead, shushing him. Her heart ached to see that even in his sleep, Suraj was troubled. She stroked his hair tenderly and Suraj stopped his restless tossing and turning.

      At long last, she started to feel drowsy. As her eyelids drooped, she saw a slight movement on the mud-packed floor a few feet from where she lay. Her eyes widened and her sleep vanished in an instant, blood turning to ice as she sat bolt upright. A black cobra, the deadliest snake in India, uncoiled its length and raised its hood, ready to strike. In the bright moonlight, cobra and girl stared at each other in absolute silence, not a movement to betray that either was breathing. Suddenly, the cobra lowered its hood and, with lightning speed, covered the last few feet between itself and the sleeping form of Suraj. It stopped next to Suraj and once again raised its hood, swaying menacingly from side to side.

       CHAPTER 2 THE PEACOCK’S TAIL

      Tara froze.

      She could not scream or move, so great was her

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