The Third Eye (20 page)

“Your daughter has become too disobedient. Teach her some respect.”

“I'll talk to her,” said Parvati, shielding Tara with her body, pushing her to the back of the room. “I am sorry, Father.”

Prabala whirled on his heel and sprinted out the door. Tara turned to Parvati.

“Mother, listen to me: Dada's amulet has fallen off; he does not have the power and protection he thinks he has.”

Everyone looked aghast as Tara lunged forward and picked up the amulet from under the piece of clay. Ananth ran to the window.

“He's just about to put a spell on the hut,” yelled Ananth. “Let me go with him, I'm stronger.”

Tara looked at Parvati as she held up the amulet. Parvati nodded as tears filled her eyes. Tara shot a triumphant look at Ananth. His expression was sulky.

“Go quickly, child. May Lord Ganesh protect you,” said Parvati.

Tara shot through the kitchen and jumped out the back door just as Prabala's voice, chanting the spell, died away and a shimmery outline formed around the hut. But Tara did not wait a second longer. She raced round the hut and sprinted after Prabala, who had already disappeared into the shadows of the night.

The stench of burning grew stronger as Prabala raced to the centre of the village. The flames surrounding the village were now clearly visible as they leapt up to the black sky. Acrid clouds of black smoke billowed up, creating a haze. He stopped short of the clearing and darted behind a tree to survey the scene.

The banyan tree in the centre of the village was ablaze. He clenched his hand into a fist and shook it in helpless rage.

Tara, racing to catch up with Prabala, also saw the tree. She was appalled at losing a part of her childhood — a landmark that had always been there. To see it go up in flames felt like a part of her body was on fire. But what were those moving shadows under the tree? Her heart hammered loudly and blood roared through her ears. Those shadows were the Vetalas, scores and scores of them, gathered round the tree watching —
enjoying
it going up in flames. They
leapt and capered around it in an uncoordinated way, as if jerked by an unseen puppeteer.

Keeping to the shadows, Prabala inched around the clearing one stealthy step at a time. No one seemed to have noticed him. The green-black shadows continued their weird dancing around the banyan tree. The singing, which sounded more like wailing, sent a chill up Tara's spine. It sounded like someone being strangled, very slowly and very painfully. She called out to Prabala but he did not hear her above the commotion.

Suddenly, Prabala sprawled on the ground. He fell face down and did not move. What had happened? She could not see anything. What was going on? She forced herself to stand still, digging her nails into the tree trunk to keep from running to help her grandfather. Mad laughter filled the air. Shadows materialized next to Prabala and he was dragged toward the banyan tree. Closer to the fire, Tara could see that he was surrounded by the Vetalas. The crowd parted and Zarku strode forward. Tara turned icy cold and her mouth was dry. She turned and retched into the bushes. In her mind, she could still hear the agonized screams of the two men that Zarku had burned alive in front of her in the mountains.

Get a grip, Tara
, the small voice inside her said, and the nauseous feeling slowly abated. But while her stomach had stopped heaving, her heart continued to hammer.

You wanted to help your grandfather, you wanted to be brave. Well, here you are. What are you going to do about it?

Shut up!
she told the voice.

Coward! Run back to Mummy,
said the little voice.
Shut up, I'm trying to think,
she snapped back.

The little fight within herself made her feel braver and more in control.

I have to do something. But what?

She peered anxiously from behind the tree. Prabala was hidden by a sea of green bodies. The smell of rotten flesh reached her and she wrinkled her nose, trying to control the heaving in her stomach.

Yes, help your grandfather by vomiting all over the Vetalas,
the sarcastic voice piped in.
That will surely drive them away.

Gradually, her ebbing courage returned. With it returned that nagging feeling that she'd forgotten something very important.
Not now
, she told herself as she crept forward to get a better look. Zarku had raised his hands and all sound and movement stopped. The Vetalas gazed at him in anticipation.

“My brave men, today is a triumph for us. We have the great Prabala in our power and the rest of his family is back in the village. Let us rid ourselves of his evil influence forever. His soul will please Kubera!”

His voice was growing steadily louder and he shrieked the last few words. The crowd was roused and they were all yelling and clapping in response.

Tara strained to get a glimpse of her grandfather. She crouched low to the ground and at last, between the milling
green feet, she saw him. He was unconscious and tied to a stake very close to the burning tree.

How could this happen to her grandfather? Did he have no power at all without the rudraksha? He was faking it, for sure. He would wake up in a moment and strike them all dead, starting with Zarku. Tara waited and watched as the flames came closer and closer to Prabala's inert body.

“Wake up, Dada,
wake up
,” she muttered under her breath.

Zarku's speech had roused the Vetalas so much that they were almost out of control. They leapt, gibbered, and danced like animals around Prabala's prone body. Zarku surveyed the scene of madness and smiled deeply, caressing his bald head lovingly.

“Please wake up, Dada, they are going to kill you,” pleaded Tara softly, hoping her earnest prayers would reach him.

He did not move.

She looked at the rudraksha clasped in her hand and knew what she had to do. Her knees shook and her armpits were damp with sweat.

She knelt and prayed.
Lord Soma, Lord Yama, help me, please
. She looked up at the sky and noticed thick clouds on the horizon. They seemed to be sailing toward her at an incredible speed. As soon as they reached the banyan tree a deluge of water rained down and doused the flames. Zarku looked up angrily, unable to believe it.

Just then, the moon went out. The village centre was
plunged into darkness. Tara had memorized the exact spot where Prabala had been tied. As soon as the light went out, she ran like an arrow released from a bow, straight to the spot where Prabala was tied.

There was utter pandemonium with people bumping into each other. All of a sudden, the yells became louder and more agonized.

“Thwack!”

“Thump!”

“Aarrg!”

“Oooooooff!”

The air was thick with guttural grunts.

Above it all, Zarku shrieked, “Get me some light, you morons!
Get me some light!”

Tara bumped into cold flesh and the smell of decay enveloped her. She pinched her nose tightly so that she would not faint, and kept going. Finally, she touched warm flesh. Dada! Feeling her way to the back of the stake, she started untying the rope that bound his hands, all the while whispering in his ear, “Wake up, Dada. Please wake up.”

There was no response, and she was getting desperate. She bit his shoulder. Prabala woke up with a cry.

“Ow!”

“Shhhh, Grandfather, it's me, Tara.”

“Tara, what you are doing here? What happened? Why is it so dark?”

“I could not let you face Zarku alone, Dada. I slipped out of the hut before you put the spell on it.”

“Tara, that was a very dangerous and silly thing to do,” said Prabala, sternly. “Now both our lives are in danger. How will I face your mother if anything happens to you?”

“Your amulet fell off in the hut when you yelled at me. You need this and I had to bring it to you,” she whispered, scrabbling at the knots that bound Prabala's hands and feet.

“Tara, you are truly my star. I am sorry I yelled at you,” said Prabala. “Hurry! Untie my hands and then give me the rudraksha.”

“Thwack!”

“Thump!”

The sounds and the yells continued. Tara finally managed to untie the ropes. Her nails were torn and bleeding, but she ignored the pain.

“We have very little time, Dada,” she whispered urgently. “Can you walk? We need to get away from here. I'll tie the amulet on your arm and then you can take over.”

“I can. Let's go.”

The next moment, the clearing was bathed in light. Zarku had lit another fire, which remained untouched by the steady rain. It burned a bright red and illuminated the clearing for miles.

Lord Yama waded through the Vetalas, giving them a taste of his mace.

Both Soma and Lord Yama had come to their rescue. But it had not been enough. They had still not gotten away
in time. She had not even been able to tie the amulet on her grandfather's arm. They were lost. Terror and panic spiralled through her body. The horizon seemed to be tilting.

Zarku advanced toward Tara, his third eye bulging dangerously in his forehead.

“So
this
is the busybody that has ruined my plans,” he said in a calm voice, all the while stroking his bald head. “
Wonderful
. One more to kill tonight, and it will be my pleasure to start with you, Tara.”

“
NO!
” roared Prabala. “You have a grudge against me. Kill me and spare the child.”

“This is no child. She's a demon. I should have killed her ages ago,” snarled Zarku.

Prabala hobbled to his feet and stood in front of Tara.

“You will have to kill me first.”

“Get away, you pathetic old fool,” said Zarku, and with a swipe of his hand he pushed Prabala aside.

Prabala fell to the ground and did not move.

“Dada!” wailed Tara, lunging forward.

Zarku slapped her hard. She went sprawling to the ground and hit her head against a rock. Her ears rang and warm liquid trickled into her left eye. Her head throbbed savagely.

“
You meddlesome witch
! This is the last time you poke your nose where it does not belong.”

Red and yellow sparks flew out of Zarku's third eye. Tara was mesmerized. Blood dribbled out of the corner
of his mouth. His black eyes glowed and his bald head reflected the red light. He reached out his talon-like hand and grasped her wrist.

“
LET ME GO,
” she screamed. “Dada, help me!
HELLLLPPPP!
”

Prabala remained unconscious.

She looked up at Zarku's face through a mist of tears. His third eye was opening. Suddenly, she remembered the silver anklet! It had saved her the last time she had encountered Zarku. It was in her bundle of clothes, back in the cave ... she was doomed. But she wasn't going to give up without a fight.

Tara squirmed and thrashed wildly, trying to free herself. Something hard smacked into her lip and the salty taste of blood seeped into her mouth. The mirror that she always wore around her neck had fallen out of her kurta. It flashed red, reflecting the fire, as she wrestled to get free of Zarku's grasp.

Zarku's eye was halfway open and heat poured out of it like molten lava. Tara's skin was starting to blister and the pain was unbearable. With her free hand, she grabbed the mirror and turned it toward the red beam just as his eye opened completely. The full force of that lethal gaze ricocheted back to Zarku. He screamed with agony as his skin seared and melted.

“
AAAAAIIIIIIEEEEEEE!
” he howled.

The mirror heated up instantly and scorched Tara's hand, but she held the mirror steady, and within seconds
Zarku was a mound of black ash.

Tears of relief and exhaustion poured down Tara's cheeks as she crawled to her grandfather, who was still lying unconscious.

“Finally, I can give this back to you, Dada,” she said in a frail voice.

She unclenched the hand that Zarku had held in his relentless grip. The skin on her wrist was red and raw, but she had not let go of the precious amulet. Aware of its immense value to her grandfather, she had held it so tightly that the corrugated surface of the rudraksha seed had imprinted itself in the soft skin of her palm. Her hand, and the seed, were covered with blood. Shaking with exhaustion, she tied the seed onto her grandfather's arm. He stirred almost immediately as the amulet and all its powers infused his body.

Tara's vision blurred. She saw Prabala's eyes open. She smiled to herself: he was safe, Zarku was dead. And then she lay down on the ground in complete exhaustion.

Prabala sprang to his feet and surveyed the scene. The Vetalas stood in silence now that their leader was dead. Lord Yama stood to one side, his mace on his shoulder. The red fire burnt on. Prabala moved Tara out of harm's way. He kneeled in the clearing and prayed to the Rain God. The rain that had doused the banyan tree earlier continued to fall steadily, but it was now accompanied by lightning. Huge black clouds hung low in the sky and the lightning grew stronger as Prabala's chanting grew louder.
Suddenly, a deafening clap of thunder and an enormous bolt of lightning shot out of the sky.

The Vetalas, who had been standing dazed, were woken from their stupors. Then, they changed. Their skin gradually lost the green hue, their feet turned the right way around, and they recognized each other. Scores and scores of men hugged each other, free of the hypnotic influence of Zarku. Their salty tears mingled with the icy rain and washed away the filth of their bodies and souls.

Prabala approached Lord Yama and, pressing his hands together, bowed to the God of Death.

“Lord Yama, I thank you for your help today.”

Lord Yama inclined his head.

“Your granddaughter is the one who convinced me. She is a brave young girl.”