The Silver Anklet (3 page)

“Ta-da!” he said, a cheeky smile on his face. He caught the little girl's eye and winked. She closed both eyes in an answering wink.

The crowd snorted in disgust. “Anyone can do this,” a crusty old woman called out. “You call this a performance? You fraud! Wait till I come there. I'll make a kebab out of you and then stuff you into the basket.

The crowd can reward me instead.”

The boy sat there for a moment, quiet and confident.

On that thin face, his shining eyes were the most prominent feature. Tara liked him instantly and refused to move, though the crowd, muttering and mumbling, had already started to unravel. There had to be more to this.

Calls of “fraud, liar, scoundrel” peppered the air.

“Wait!” the boy cried out. “I'm not finished.”

The crowd stopped and turned to face him again.

As they watched, he squirmed and shifted, sinking lower and lower. He rearranged his bones to fit into the small space, filling every inch of the basket. Soon his entire torso was inside, his legs and arms wrapped around it at weird angles. It seemed as if someone had stuffed body parts randomly into a basket. The crowd stood mesmerized. When the boy had everyone's attention, he lowered his head into a small cavity that somehow still remained. The lid slid along the ground rapidly and Tara knew, somewhere in there, the boy was manipulating it. It snapped shut. Anyone walking past at this very moment would have seen a huge crowd staring at a basket!

Seconds later, clapping, whistling, and yelling erupted. A shower of coins hit the basket, which suddenly tipped over on its side. The lid flew open and the boy tumbled out; a grotesque caricature of a human crab. They watched, horrified, as he rearranged his limbs, standing tall once again. Another shower of coins landed around him.

“Shabash, wah-wah!” now filled the air.

“Thank you, thank you,” he said. He quickly gathered the coins and stuffed them into a little pouch tied around his waist, neatly hidden under his shirt. The little girl skipped around, nimbly picking up the coins and handing them to the boy.

Tara and Ananth walked up to him. “That was
amazing
,” she said. “How did you do it?”

“Oh, that.” The boy shrugged. “It's nothing. I was born with flexible joints. The bad part is that I can't do heavy work without an arm or a leg slipping out of its socket. Like this.”

He twisted his right arm sharply. It hung away from his body at an impossible angle. Aghast, Tara could only stare. Ananth was speechless.

“Put it back now!” she said. “Doesn't it hurt?”

The boy pushed his arm back into the socket. It settled with audible crack. Tara shivered.

I'm a freak.” The boy winked. “Nah, it doesn't hurt.

I've learned to live with it.”

“That was just super, er —” said Ananth.

“Kabir,” he said. “You?”

“Ananth. And this is my sister, Tara. We're from Morni.”

“Ramgarh,” said Kabir. “And this is my sister and wonderful helper, Sadia.”

Sadia stood beside Kabir and looked up at them shyly. Kabir pinched her cheek gently and she giggled.

“That's a long way to travel, isn't it?” said Tara.

“Uh-huh, but I don't have a choice,” said Kabir. He slung the basket on his shoulder and took Sadia's hand.

“Fairs save my family from starving!”

“What d' you mean?” said Tara.

“We don't own land,” said Kabir, walking along with them. “Father has to beg for jobs. Not enough food to go round. So I need the fairs to earn some extra money.”

He looked from one to the other. Tara stared into those grave black eyes that looked at her so directly. She had to smile. He was so open and likeable.

“We'll see you around,” said Ananth.

Kabir nodded. “I'll be performing some more today. Drop by again. Great crowd, isn't it? We're lucky. Normally there are half this many people. I'll make good money today!”

“Yes!” said Ananth. “For the first time in three years the Ghaggar is navigable this time of year. People from Hissar and Bhiwani are coming in.”

“Good for us and good for the boatmen, too,” said Kabir. He flashed a warm smile. “I better be off. Bye.”

Sadia smiled and waved goodbye. Tara watched them melt into the crowd, hoping they would meet up again.

The smells of food, sweaty people, animals, and fresh manure swirled around them in a pungent cloud. For a moment the sunshine and gaiety filled Tara to the brim; the Ferris wheel imprinted against a blue, blue sky, the shrieks of the children flying through the air, safely ensconced in wooden seats. A day filled with the ordinary excitement of going to the fair. She was so glad she had come.

Someone bumped into her. She wheeled around. “Oops, sorry, Didi —” A small boy ran off. No one she knew.

That was all it took. The sunshine dimmed. The shouts of the children grated on her nerves. She searched the crowds again and again. Where was Suraj? He should have been here by now. He was in for a spanking for worrying her like this. Rohan, too.

“Let's eat,” said Ananth. “I'm starving.” He made a beeline for the biryani stall just up ahead. Tara followed.

At the back of the tiny stall, large steel vessels were piled high with saffron and white rice, sprinkled liberally with nuts. A delicious fragrance of mutton cooked in yoghurt and spices perfumed the air.

“Two, please,” said Ananth.

Tara was about to protest that she wasn't hungry, but it was too late. The vendor had already accepted payment and was measuring out the steaming biryani into dried banana-leaf cones. He handed them over, his eye already on the next customer in line. They sat under a banyan tree to enjoy their meal. Tara picked at her food while Ananth devoured his.

“If you're not going to eat that, hand it over,” said Ananth. He burped loudly.

Tara handed over the food, glad to be rid of it. The normally tantalizing fragrance was making her sick. Suraj couldn't still be waiting for a ride. What was keeping him? She shot a glance at Ananth, still engrossed in his meal. If she voiced her fears, he was bound to tease her yet again.
Just a little while longer
, she thought,
then I'll
start looking
. He was probably waiting in line for yet another turn or maybe he was at the merry-go-round.

They wandered through the stalls, examining the clothes and handicrafts on display. In the distance, they saw Kabir perform yet again, with his sister helping; a blur of bright blue between the onlookers. They passed a large stall piled high with silver vessels of every shape and size and Tara stopped for a moment. Soft, brown eyes stared back from the hundreds of gleaming surfaces around her. She smoothed a wisp of hair that had escaped from her shoulder-length brown plait. Her nose-stud sparkled momentarily, catching the sun.

“If you've finished admiring yourself, maybe we can move to something more interesting — like that marble shop?” Ananth smirked and pulled her away. She made a wry face and followed.

The sun started to slip behind the trees and crickets heralded the approach of night. Long shadows crept between the stalls and across open spaces.

“I better go look for them, Ananth. It's been far too long. God help Suraj if he's gone off to do something else and forgotten about me. I had told that … that Ferris wheel boy, whatisname, yes, Vayu, to remind him to come back to me.”

“It's definitely been long enough,” said Ananth, frowning. “It's not like them to disobey you.”

The words chilled Tara. Suraj might fuss, but in the end he almost always did as he was told. And Rohan mimicked Suraj.

“HYENA!” someone shrieked. “HELP!”

Tara's heart almost stopped beating. “I was right.” She glared at Ananth. “
I was right!

”

They raced through the deepening dusk toward the towering hulks of trees that marked the forest's edge. Toward the scream.

— two —
Five into the Forest

P
eople raced past them heading in the same direction.

Tara, weaving through the crowds, couldn't get there fast enough. Why had she waited so long before looking for the boys? If anything happened to them, she'd never forgive herself.

Kabir caught up with them, looking like a ghost.

“That was my mother's voice,” he said. But before Tara or Ananth could say another word he sped away.

They stuck to him like shadows as he flitted through the field.

An old woman paced at the edge of the grounds, her face streaked with tears. A few people were already there, crowding her, staring at her with open curiosity. Kabir pushed them aside roughly.

“Mother, what happened?” he said. “Where's Sadia?”

Everyone leaned closer.

She managed to blurt one word. “Hyena.” The tears started again.

The word shattered the silence. People rushed to the edge of the forest, searching the darkness, chattering and shouting to each other.

“What?” said Kabir. He had turned pale and Tara knew exactly how he felt; a hyena snatching that sweet little girl she had seen just a few hours ago. Sadia must be terrified and so must Kabir.

“After you left her with me,” said his mother, her words punctuated with sobs, “she played for a while with the new doll you had bought her.”

“And then?” asked Kabir.

“She asked for something to eat, so I told her to wait under that tree.” His mother collapsed against him, weeping hard.

“Mother, don't stop. Tell me everything.” Kabir's voice broke. “Please hurry.”

Kabir's mother nodded, wiped her eyes, and took a deep breath. The rest of the story came tumbling out. Tara clutched Ananth's hand, not at all surprised to find that it was as cold and clammy as hers.

“I went to get her some aloo-puri. The stall was so close,” said his mother. She pointed to it. “When I got back, she was standing at the edge of the forest staring at something. I called out to her and she turned. Just then …” his mother's voice faltered.

“Just then
what
?” yelled Kabir.

“A huge hyena! It jumped out of the bushes, grabbed her and … and … pulled her in. She screamed. I was paralyzed, it was such a big ugly thing. If I had moved just a bit faster …”

“Where did this happen?” said Kabir. “Show me the exact spot.”

Kabir's mother led them closer to the forest. The trees stood like sentinels, guarding the blackness beyond.

Suddenly Kabir stooped, picked something up off the leaf-strewn ground. A plastic doll. He hugged it to his chest. “Sadia,” he whispered, his voice husky.

“Kabir!” someone called out.

A girl in a purple ghagra-choli emerged from the crowd. The mirrors on the edge of her green dupatta flashed and winked as she hurried up.

“Raani,” said Kabir. “Thank God you're here!” He led her a short distance away from the crowd. Kabir's mother, Ananth, and Tara followed.

“What happened?” said Raani. “The craziest rumours are floating about back there. Something about an animal dragging away people … someone said hyena and I had to laugh —”

“It's true,” said Kabir. “A hyena dragged Sadia off.

Mother saw it.”

“No!” said Raani. “When did this happen? Where?”

“Right here,” said Kabir. “This is all I found of her.”

He held out the doll for a moment and clasped it to his heart again.

“Let me take a look,” said Raani. “Don't worry, she can't be too far from here.”

“God bless you,” said Kabir's mother. She took Raani's slim hand in hers and kissed it.

Raani gave her a hug. “It'll be all right, Aunty. Don't worry.”

“Mother,” said Kabir. “I'll stay with Raani. Talk to one of the village chiefs. Tell them what happened. We'll need help. Hurry.”

Kabir's mother ran back toward the villagers. The crowd had swelled. Many had brought lanterns that threw flickering, dancing lights across the field. Steadily the buzz grew louder, like a gathering hoard of mosquitoes.

“I'll be right back,” said Raani. Without any hesitation, she stepped through the fence of trees and darkness swallowed her.

Tara looked at Kabir in surprise.

“Don't worry about her,” he said. “She can see very well in the dark. They call her Raat-ki-Raani in my village.”

“Ananth,” whispered Tara. “We should go look for Suraj and Rohan. I have a very bad feeling about this.”

“You're right,” said Ananth “You head back to the Ferris wheel and talk to that boy there. I'll take a look at the other end. We'll meet back here in ten minutes.”

Tara ran as fast as she could, her gaze fixed on the dark sphere imprinted on a blue-black sky. She dodged people, cursing them silently for slowing her down. Vayu was shutting the ride for the night when she reached him.

“Vayu,” said Tara, trying to catch her breath and speak at the same time, “where … is my brother … his friend?”

Vayu stared at her in confusion for a few minutes.

Tara wanted to grab him and shake him up.

“Oh yes, the boy in the yellow shirt and his friend in the white kurta-pajama. You'd asked me to keep an —”

“Have you seen them in the last hour or so?” Tara practically screamed at him.

“No,” said Vayu. “They finished the ride ages ago and left.”

“Did they say they were coming to look for me?

Where did they go?”

“I can't recall,” said Vayu. He frowned. “I've seen a few hundred boys today, it's difficult …”

He glanced at Tara. “What's the matter?”

“They're both missing. Someone's just reported a hyena snatching a child. Please help me find them,” said Tara.

“I'm so sorry,” said Vayu. “What are their names again?”

“Suraj and Rohan.”

“Where will you be?” he asked, securing the chain-link at the entrance. He slung a cloth bag over his shoulder.