The Deadly Conch

The Deadly Conch by Mahtab Narsimhan Page A

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Authors: Mahtab Narsimhan
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wrong!” said Suraj suddenly. “My Didi would never harm anyone. I’ll fight anyone who says so.”
    Tara tousled his hair. “I’m all right, Suraj, but thanks.”
    â€œI think we should all calm down and finish the pooja,” said Karthik. “We can finish this discussion later.”
    â€œOh no, take as much time as you need,” said Punditji. “I can’t finish the pooja now.” It was evident from his sulky expression that he was unhappy about the spotlight being snatched away from him once too often. “The auspicious time has passed. We’ll have to do it some other time. Go home, all of you.”
    For a moment there was complete silence and then everyone spoke at once.
    â€œNo, we want prasad,” yelled the villagers. “We need the blessings of Lord Ganesh. Finish the pooja.”
    â€œNo,” said Punditji. His bald head shone with sweat and his pudgy arms were crossed over his hairy chest. “You can take all of your offerings away. They have been partially blessed. That’s the best I can do right now.”
    A buzz ran through the crowd. Never before had Punditji stopped a pooja in the middle. This was another first and Tara could sense their resentment turning to shock and then to anger. It came hurtling toward her in a huge, towering wave and crashed down.
    â€œPunditji, for all our sakes, could you please complete the pooja?” asked Raka.
    Punditji drew himself up. “No! The favourable time is past and I will not do it today. You may take your duties lightly, Raka, but I do not.”
    It was Raka’s turn to look sulky, but he did not say a word. Tara looked from the chief to Punditji, her heart unbearably heavy. She had imagined month-long festivities upon her return; being honoured and treated like a queen. The reality could not have been further from her dreams. Her eyes came to rest on the person who had started this.
    Layla stood next to Sumathy, trying to act calm, but her eyes gave her away and Tara knew she was very happy. Raka tried to quiet the crowd and send them home. Slowly, the temple began to empty. Punditji was talking to the Panchayat, gesticulating in agitation. Tara strained her ears, but she could not hear a word of the whispered conversation.
    â€œThis is really bad, Shiv,” said Parvati. “What’s happening … and why? We have to talk to Layla tonight. By attacking Tara in public she’s causing a lot of tension and fuelling their superstitions. This is so wrong.”
    â€œWe told you she was evil, Mother,” said Suraj. His eyes shone with anger as he thumped his small fist into his palm. “Tara and I had warned you, but you wouldn’t listen.”
    Tara, Shiv, and Parvati gaped at him.
    â€œWhat did you say?” said Parvati.
    â€œWhen Kali was thrown out of the village, you offered to look after Layla, remember?” said Suraj. “We knew she was just like her mother. She always tried very hard to get us into trouble. It made her happy to see us sad. She’s doing it again.”
    Parvati drew in a shaky breath, but did not reply. Tara could only think of the ruined evening. Surely this was one more black mark against her. The last of the villagers were streaming out. The Panchayat and Punditji were still talking in whispers, glancing their way now and then. Layla seemed glued to Sumathy as they stood a short distance away from Raka.
    Shiv herded them together. “Let’s go home. We need to have a serious talk.”
    Parvati called out to Layla. “Come on, Layla. We’re all going home.”
    Layla stared at them, blank-faced, as if strangers had asked her to accompany them home. “I’m staying here,” she said. “I have to talk to Rakaji as soon as he’s free.
    There are a few more things I have to tell him.” She stared straight at Tara.
    Tara had to use all her discipline to hold Layla’s gaze without

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