Tiger Hills (14 page)

“The Goddess has shrouded herself in secrecy this year,” Thimmaya commented wryly. The Bhagamandala temple was blanketed in fog, only the spire of its double-tiered roof poking valiantly through the gray. He shook his head as he took in the crowds. “Probably avoiding all these people.”

Despite the early hour, the temple courtyard was packed. Devi and Thimmaya had been pushed and shoved as they had made their way inside the stifling shrine, people pressed against one another like so many layers of soggy dough that the new copper doors were all but obscured. Devi had felt faint as they had fought their way outside again. Devotees spilled over the temple stairs, jostling against one other as they reached to ring the brass bells that swung from the eaves, elbowing their way to the temple shop to buy offerings for the Goddess—
mine is bigger, fresher, longer than yours
—coconuts smeared with turmeric and vermilion, lumps of rock sugar and garlands of mango leaves and marigolds. The temple elephant was shackled to a tree at one end of the courtyard, bedecked with flowers and a caparison of yellow and red silk. Devotees swarmed before it, too—“Ganesha! O Ganapati Swami!”—bananas in their hands, falling to their knees before this supposed avatar of the Elephant God as the beast in question nonchalantly chewed on a bale of hay and waved its trunk over their heads. A priest was shouting at people not to come too close to the animal, sweat dribbling from his shaven head in spite of the chill as he tried to manage the crowds.

Devi laid a hand upon Thimmaya's arm. “Appaiah,” she shouted above the din, “Devanna will be here somewhere; we should look for him.”

Thimmaya nodded, distracted as he spotted a friend. The man strode over and they greeted each other heartily, slapping each other's shoulders. “Ayy, Thimmaya,” the man said delightedly,
“have you come to seek penitence from the Goddess for your sins yet again?”

Thimmaya laughed. “I leave that to you,” he said. “Me, I am only here to seek blessings for my daughter.”

The man glanced appreciatively at Devi as she bent to touch his feet. “Well, she is a blessed child, that much is evident … Have you seen the doors?” he asked, turning back to Thimmaya. “Magnificent. Pure copper, did you know? Must have cost the old man a fortune.”

“Have you seen them, anna—the family, I mean?” Devi asked.

“Who, the Kambeymadas? No, kunyi, not as yet, but then they must already be at the tank, I should imagine. The doors were installed quite some hours ago.”

Devi's eyes went involuntarily to the trail leading uphill from the temple. Her heart began to race. Machu was there, barely hours away, at the temple tank where Kaveri would make her appearance.

She felt oddly light-headed as they headed up the mountain. Fog lay thick upon the trail, teasing wisps of Devi's hair into soft curls about her face. Disembodied voices carried through the mist, invoking the Goddess (“Kaveri amma, Kaveri amma”) or calling to others in their party (“Stay close now, stay close”). Vendors hawking idlis, dosas, and jackfruit puttus steamed in banana leaves had positioned themselves at strategic points along the trail; people were drawn like moths to the glow of their fires.

Thimmaya paused by one particularly crowded stall. “Let's eat here, kunyi,” he said. “All these smells are making me ravenous.” Devi smiled in agreement, although her stomach churned at the thought of food. Thimmaya signaled to the vendor, who poured a ladle of batter onto his sizzling griddle. The dosa was lacy and crisp, but it scraped against her throat like sand.

A group of young men came loping up the trail, bare chested, bearing tridents in their hands. “Kaveri amma kapad!” they whooped. Carried away by their youth and enthusiasm, pilgrims all along the trail took up the chant. “Hail Kaveri amma,” they cried in response, their voices echoing through the hills. “Kaveri
amma, our Mother!” A beggar woman came up to Devi and thrust out a bony hand. “Amma … ” Devi did not even notice as the dosa vendor shooed the woman away with a volley of curses. “Kaveri amma. Kaveri amma.” The chants seemed to vibrate through her blood. Devi shut her eyes. “Kaveri amma, give me your blessings,” she prayed. “Let us meet.”

They climbed higher, past fathers carrying children nuzzled sleepily on their shoulders, past mist-dampened saris and transparent white mundus that clung wetly to waists and buttocks. There was a man crawling up the trail on all fours, and two others somersaulting their way up the mountain, heedless of the stones that cut their faces, their hearts set upon pleasing the Goddess. What did they seek, Devi wondered, and then forgot the question almost immediately as she scanned the fog.

Where was he?
A thought suddenly struck her. What if she did not recognize him? It had been eight years since the tiger wedding. No, she thought, that was silly,
surely
she would know him at once?

Every time she heard a male voice come up behind them, her heart beat faster.
Don't be foolish,
she told herself,
he will not be alone—the entire family will be together, all the Kambeymada men.
Nevertheless, her breath quickened at each footfall, at every pair of broad shoulders hulking through the mist.

They climbed higher and higher, then turned a corner, and there it was, the temple tank where Kaveri would make her appearance. It was even more crowded than the temple had been, a thick haze of bodies obscuring the steps that led down to the tank. Devi's heart began to race.
Machaiah.

“Appaiah, where should we … ,” she started, then fell silent. Where was her father? She bit her lip. Somewhere, at the mouth of the trail that led to the tank, Thimmaya and she had become separated.

Someone jostled her from behind, and Devi moved hastily aside. She looked at the streams of people flooding the tank. It was hardly appropriate for a woman to be alone in such a crowd. She should really wait here by the mouth of the trail until Thimmaya
found her. She turned toward the tank again. Machu was there, she knew he was. She looked about again for Thimmaya. The chanting grew louder; it would not be long now before Kaveri appeared. Devi looked toward the tank again. And then, mind made up, she plunged determinedly into the crowd. “Kaveri amma,” the pilgrims roared, as they gazed into the empty tank, willing the Goddess to appear. “Kaveri amma!”

She had to make her way to the front of the crowd; that was where the Kambeymadas would be, in the best vantage points. She took a deep breath to steady herself and then fought her way down the slippery stone steps. The roses slipped from her hair and were trampled into mush. People were pressed up tight against her, wedging her hips and breasts squarely into the burly male back before her. The man looked at her and shrugged apologetically, but Devi did not notice. She was searching the front rows of the crowd, twisting and turning her head as far she could.
Where are you?
The priests raised their hands, and a hush fell upon the crowd.
Machu, where are you? Please, Kaveri amma…
The auspicious hour was upon them. And there … the faintest gurgle of water. Kaveri burst through the earth, surging and frothing into the tank. The crowd erupted. They pushed even harder against her, crowding as close as possible to witness the miracle.

“KAVERIAMMA … ”

The water level rose rapidly. The priests tumbled pot after pot of milk into the tank, flinging strings of jasmine and great gobs of vermilion until the waters flowed red. The crowd surged forward, and the world spun about Devi for an instant. She shut her eyes.
I cannot breathe.
Her feet felt so light, as if they were floating in the air, or had the pilgrims behind her literally lifted her off her feet?
I cannot breathe.
Faces seemed to tilt and run into one another all about her. She looked down at the water to right her vision but it, too, was a whirlpool, spinning faster and faster in on itself. The crowd behind her shifted. The man in front of her slipped and stumbled, and Devi swayed precariously over the ledge.
“Kaveri amma kapad.”
Her eyes closed and she felt herself tilt toward the water, so red, red as blood. Then she fainted.

A pair of hands encircled her waist just as she fell, lifting her up and carrying her away from the mob.

The first person she saw when she opened her eyes was Devanna, his face pale and anxious. He had the downy beginnings of a mustache, Devi noted vaguely. So many faces, looking down at her … and one in particular coming slowly into focus. A pair of brown eyes, the color of amber. Fine lines radiating from their corners, laughter lines she hadn't noticed before, but then she hadn't looked at him from this close for so many years. The galla meesé, the mark of the tiger killer, contouring his jaw. She lay propped up against his arm, her head resting against his shoulder. Why had she ever doubted she would be able to recognize him? Her lips parted into a slow, lovely smile.
Machu.

“Devi. Devi!” Why was Devanna shaking her arm? “Devi, are you okay?”

Devi sat up flustered, pulling away from Machu's grasp. “What … how … I'm fine,” she said. “The crowds, I … I must have got dizzy.” She glanced at Machu, embarrassed. “Really. I am fine.”

“Do you feel well enough to stand?” Machu asked, and she nodded, biting her lip. He rose fluidly to his feet. “All right, everyone, thank you for your concern, but all is well. Go on, go on,” he urged, “nothing more to be seen, everybody is fine.”

The crowd reluctantly dispersed, feeling vaguely cheated. “It is nothing,” they said disappointedly to one another, “just some young girl who fainted. Probably hadn't eaten all day … ”

Devi looked anxiously about her. “Appaiah. Devanna, have you seen my father?”

Devanna shook his head. “You gave us quite a scare. We'll find Thimmaya anna, don't worry.” He reached out his hand as if to stroke her hair, dropping it to his side as she moved away. “You really are silly,” he said, his voice cracking as it rose. “What were you doing by the tank all by yourself ? Didn't you see how crowded it was? If Machu anna had not happened to be behind you … ”

“Silly yourself,” Devi retorted indignantly. “So I became a little short of breath. Why create such a fuss? The tank isn't that deep.”

Machu laughed; a low, easy sound that glided over her skin like sun-warmed glass. “Well, I am glad to have made your acquaintance, too,” he said. “Now that we know you are okay, if you two will stop bickering like a pair of crotchety chickens, perhaps we can try to find your father.”

Devi colored. “I didn't mean to be rude,” she said, scrambling to her feet. “I … I am grateful of course, thank you. If it weren't for your presence of mind—”

“—you would be wading in three feet of water,” he finished, already striding away. “Come on. There are too many people here. The mouth of the trail, that's our best bet for finding your father.”

They hurried after him, Devi hastily tucking strands of hair back into her braid and smoothing the creases in her sari as she tried to regain her composure.

“Wait,” she called after Machu, as she remembered. “The nectar. I haven't got any yet.” She held out the bamboo bottle that Tayi had entrusted to her. It was customary for every pilgrim to bring back some of Kaveri's waters from the temple tank, to be sprinkled over the ancestor temple, over the paddy fields and the cattle shed, by the henhouse and the piggery. Drops of the sacred water would be touched to the waiting mouths of every person in the family and to each of the Poleya servants to allow them, too, to partake of the Goddess's blessings. The remainder would be stored beside the other deities in the prayer corner, to be used throughout the coming year, during festivals, at births, deaths, and marriages, until the next year, when the Goddess visited Coorg again.

Machu shook his head, striding on. “Not now,” he said. “Your father, we should find him first.”

Why did he make her feel like a recalcitrant child? Stubbornly stopping in her tracks, Devi laid her hand on Devanna's arm. “Please, Devanna,” she wheedled. “Will you go? Tayi will be so disappointed…”

“All right,” Devanna said exasperatedly, as he took the bamboo from her hand. His voice rose again. “Please, this time, just stay
here. Machu anna, please don't let her disappear again. I'll be back before you know it.” And with that he plunged back into the crowd.

“So do you always get your way?” Machu asked interestedly.

“Do
you?
” she immediately countered.

They stood there in silence as people streamed back and forth from the trail. The wheels were churning furiously in Devi's head. This was not how it was supposed to be. He was supposed to have reacted like all the others did when they saw her for the first time: turn weak-kneed and slack-jawed. Instead here he was, standing nonchalantly by her side, a look almost of boredom on his face. An irresistible urge rose in her to reach up and slap his face. This was replaced almost immediately by an irrational fear.
He would disappear once more and she would never see him again.
Her heart began to pound. More time with him, she decided, that was what she needed. He had not had enough time to take her in.

Think, Devi, think.

She looked at the steps leading up to the peak. Did she dare?

She did.

Without so much as a backward glance, Devi started toward the steps. “Ayy. You. Girl. Devi!” a startled Machu called from behind her. “Where do you think you're going?”

Devi threw him a dazzling smile over her shoulder. “They say the views from the peak are spectacular.”

“You cannot be serious. What if your father comes in the meantime?”

Devi sighed. “Well,” she elaborated slowly, as if to a rank simpleton. “Let's see now, Appaiah will never leave without me. And you have seen how crowded it is around the tank—I will be back before Devanna returns. Don't worry,” she added brightly, “you needn't come. And oh, it was nice to meet you.”