The Deadly Conch
the deadly conch
the deadly conch
â tara trilogy â
mahtab narsimhan
DUNDURN PRESS
TORONTO
Copyright © Mahtab Narsimhan, 2010
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise (except for brief passages for purposes of review) without the prior permission of Dundurn Press. Permission to photocopy should be requested from Access Copyright.
Editor: Shannon Whibbs
Design: Courtney Horner
Printer: Webcom
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Narsimhan, Mahtab
   The deadly conch / Mahtab Narsimhan.
(Tara trilogy ; 3)
Issued also in an electronic format.
ISBN 978-1-55488-794-1
   I. Title. II. Series: Narsimhan, Mahtab. Tara trilogy ; 3.
PS8627.A77D43 2011Â Â Â Â jC813'.6Â Â Â Â C2010-902404-4
We acknowledge the support of the
Canada Council for the Arts
and the
Ontario Arts Council
for our publishing program. We also acknowledge the financial support of the
Government of Canada
through the
Canada Book Fund
and
The Association for the Export of Canadian Books
, and the
Government of Ontario
through the
Ontario Book Publishers Tax Credit program
, and the
Ontario Media Development Corporation
.
Care has been taken to trace the ownership of copyright material used in this book. The author and the publisher welcome any information enabling them to rectify any references or credits in subsequent editions.
J. Kirk Howard, President
Printed and bound in Canada.
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For Amma and Papa
Table of Contents
sixteen Twenty-Four Hours to Live
twenty Another Loved One ⦠Lost!
twenty-two The Beginning of the End
twenty - three Panchayats and Promises
twenty-four Framed and a Failure
twenty-seven Revelations and Regrets
L
ayla glared at Tara, her face contorted with rage. Tara returned her gaze steadily. In the deepening dusk around them, the villagers of Morni danced in time to the drummer's beat.
For Tara, time slowed down, stopped, reversed. It was as if she were staring at a smaller replica of Kali; her evil stepmother, who had plunged to her death in the underground chasm mere days ago. Had it already been a week since she had escaped that nightmare? It seemed like yesterday.
Layla shall avenge my death ⦠mine and Zarku's.
Kali's words, spat at her like a cobra's venom, still haunted her dreams. Tara sometimes awoke to the echoes of Kali's dying scream reverberating in her head. But did her spoilt, overweight daughter have the power to make them come true? Despite the heat, Tara shivered.
“TARA!” someone yelled.
She whirled around. Kabir, Raani, and Vayu raced up to her. Vayu limped slightly and Raani favoured one leg as she ran. Tara remembered their fight on the beach with the hyenas. Raani could barely walk then, a hyena had attacked Vayu as he struggled to keep their boat steady, and Kabir had been deep in the throes of fever. What a sorry sight they had all looked. But here they were now, alive and well! She had done the right thing by letting them escape, though at the time it had been a very difficult decision.
“You made it back!” said Raani. “I'm so proud of you.” She flung her arms around Tara. Tara hugged her back, inhaling the intoxicating fragrance of the raat-ki-raani flower tucked behind Raani's ear.
Kabir and Vayu hugged her, too, grinning widely.
“You made it back with my sister and your brother!” said Kabir. “And you managed it all by yourself!” He shook his head, gazing at her, awestruck. “Weren't you scared? Did you ever feel you wouldn't be able to do it?”
“Our Tara is a tigress,” said a familiar voice. “She prefers to work alone.
Nothing
scares her!”
“Ananth,” said Kabir. “Good to see you, brother. That was some boat ride, no?”
“Hmmm, yes,” said Ananth. “But it wasn't as exciting as the things Tara had to face.”
Vayu clapped Ananth's back, smiling. And then they were all talking at the tops of their voices, bombarding Tara with questions. Ananth had already told her how they had escaped, but their friends hadn't heard her story.
“I want to hear every little detail,” said Raani. “Don't you dare leave out a single thing.”
“Your leg,” said Tara. “It's all right?”
Raani nodded. “Still hurts a little, but it's bearable.”
“And you both?” said Tara, looking at Kabir and Vayu.
“We're fine,” said Vayu. “But enough about us. How did you manage to kill Zarku
and
Kali? We heard so many different versions, but now you're going to tell us what really happened, right?”
“It's quite a story,” said Ananth, smiling. But the smile did not reach his eyes. “It could take all night.”
Something jabbed at Tara's heart. Ananth was mad at her for some reason. But why? Luckily no one else had noticed.
“Oh come on, Tara. Let's sit somewhere and talk,” said Raani.
Tara led them to the periphery of the clearing. She glanced around, and, with a sharp jolt, realized that Layla had slipped away just when her friends had arrived. Layla's presence made her sick, but her absence made her worry even more.
“Ananth, did you see where Layla went?” asked Tara. “I should keep an eye on her.”
“No, but don't keep our friends waiting. They're dying to hear your story. I must go see where Mother is.” Ananth hurried off.
“Come back soon!” Tara called out behind him. Ananth disappeared into the crowd without looking back.
Men, women, and children thronged the clearing in their bright clothes and jewellery, shimmering and sparkling in the light of the torches that kept darkness at bay.
Tara paused for a moment, revelling in the festivities around her. All of Morni was rejoicing because of
her.
They could just as easily have been mourning the deaths of
three
children right now. She stood straight and tall, gazing at the smiling faces. She had believed in herself and it had worked. Though Tara prayed there wouldn't be another occasion for this kind of bravery, she knew now she could handle anything that came her way.
And yet, not everyone in Morni was happy tonight. They had lost Rohan to the hyenas. She could never forget him nor the look on his parents' faces when she had returned with Suraj and Sadia.
“Stop daydreaming and tell already,” said Raani. “Don't keep us in suspense.”
They all grabbed a cup of icy well water from one of the earthen pots placed all around. Then the four of them sat some distance away from the loud music and Tara began to talk. She told them everything. The journey back to the temple, finding Kabir's sister, Sadia, the trek to the underground cave, and the horror of discovering what Zarku had planned for her; cutting her heart out.
“So that voice you kept hearing,” said Raani, wide-eyed. “That was Zarku's mother? You were possessed by his mother and you didn't know it?” She had twisted the edge of her dupatta around her fingertip, turning it white and bloodless.
Put like that, it sounded horrible. Tara suppressed a shudder. Reliving every moment of that ordeal, she couldn't imagine how she had survived. All alone.
The drummer picked up the pace of the pulsing music. Villagers dressed in clothes every colour of the rainbow, swirled and twirled in front of her, filling her field of vision.
Vayu shook his head. “You were incredible, Tara.
To face Zarku in Kali's body and defeat both must have needed so much courage and a clear mind. I don't know if I could have thought of a plan, let alone carry it out.”
“You think of nothing but food,” said Raani. But this time there was no malice in her voice. Only laughter.
“But we all survived, thanks to Tara,” said Kabir. “And Suraj and Sadia are safe, too. We did it!” He held out his fist just as he had the very first time. Smiling, Tara, Raani, and Vayu held out theirs, too. The fist was one again, except for Ananth. Why wasn't he back yet?
“The feast is ready!” a woman called out.
A last drum roll hung in the air for a few moments before evaporating in the thick heat of the evening. It was early summer and even the cloudless night was dressed in its best cloak, studded with stars. A full moon bathed the village with silvery light, making the evening appear magical.
Tara sniffed, her stomach growling. The fragrance of biryani filled the air, mingling with the delicate scent of chicken curry; her favourite. She had seen some of the village women prepare another favourite of hers: raita, the cool yoghurt sauce that she loved to drizzle over the biryani to cut the spicy taste. She couldn't wait to eat. And then sleep. It had been an exciting, but exhausting day.
“Everyone, gather around,” said Raka. He clapped his hands and managed to get the attention of the villagers sitting in groups smoking, talking, and laughing. “I want to say a few words before we all start eating.”
Everyone shuffled closer to Raka, who climbed on to the parapet surrounding the stump of the banyan tree. The sight of that burned stub jabbed at Tara's heart. Was it only last year that her grandfather, Prabala, had been tied to it while the villagers, changed into Vetalas by Zarku, had danced around the blazing tree, thirsting for his blood? She tried to block out the images of the transformed villagers with their translucent green bodies, pulsing black hearts, and turned feet. But Tara had defeated Zarku by turning his fiery gaze upon himself. They had all survived.
