The Third Eye by Mahtab Narsimhan Page A

breeze. Suddenly, he made a fist and the silver thread disappeared into its depth.
    â€œMother, if you could see me now, you would be so proud of me. I am Zarku ... the best healer in all of India ... and I made it, all on my own.”
    Zarku opened his palm and the silver thread glistened.
    Tara strained to hear what Zarku was saying in a low voice. Maybe if she found out something about him, aweakness, she would be able to help Prabala defeat him.
    â€œWhen you died, Mother,” continued Zarku, “you left me with Father, who blamed me for your death. He HATED me. Hated me so much that he wished I would die too. He told me so. The only thing he gave me freely and with love were curses and beatings.”
    Zarku’s voice was hoarse as he said it and Tara felt tears pricking her eyelids. She was feeling sorry for this monster?
    â€œAnd what did you give me, Mother? An ugly outgrowth on my forehead that people thought was another eye. Everyone teased me about it and beat me up over it.”
    Zarku stood up and paced the clearing in front of the temple. Hidden by the stone steps, Tara prayed that he would not sense her presence. She held her breath as he came within a few steps of her and strode away, still ranting.
    â€œI was ready to join you, Mother, tired of the beatings and the jeering. I went to the old well to drown myself ... but then ...,” Zarku giggled.
    Tara cringed at the cruelty she heard in that soft giggle.
    â€œThen I met him, my saviour, Kubera, the Lord of the Underworld. He promised me
revenge
. Revenge on all those who had mocked my deformity. He helped me, Mother. He turned my deformity into my greatest strength.”
    Zarku caressed his third eye.
    â€œThis, Mother, is the eye that can see into the heartand mind. I can sense strength and weakness in people. And I can make then bow to my will.”
    Tara sank to the ground trembling as she continued to clutch the blanket tightly. Now she understood why Zarku was destroying the villagers. He had made a deal with the Lord of the Underworld to avenge himself. They were all doomed unless someone could stop him.
    Zarku had stopped pacing and was standing in front of a wooden post directly in front of the temple. He hung the silver thread from a sliver of bark and ran his fingertips along it, still talking.
    â€œMother, I’ve missed you. If you’d been here, things might have been different. But there’s no going back. I promised Kubera that in return for this gift, I would give him the souls of the undead. Once I had the villagers under my control, they would do my bidding and their souls would be Kubera’s. Only if someone turned them back to their human form would they be free. But that’s not going to happen, is it? Only one person can stop me: Prabala. And he’ll be dead soon.”
    â€œ NO! ” yelled Tara.
    Zarku’s head snapped in her direction.
    Tara was aghast. She had not realized that she had yelled out and stood up at the same time.
    Suddenly, she was staring into the deep, dark pools of Zarku’s eyes.
    â€œWell, well, well, what have we here? Tara, isn’t it?”
    Tara stared at him. How did he know her name?
    â€œYes, I know your name. And who your grandfather is, though he won’t be around for long,” said Zarku as he grabbed Tara and dragged her to the wooden post, flinging her against it.
    The back of Tara’s head cracked with such force that she saw stars. She barely felt something cool slip past her cheek.
    â€œYou little busybody. Thought you could hear my secrets and tell everyone?” snarled Zarku.
    The sobbing little boy was gone. In his place stood Zarku, the monster who only lived for revenge. Tara stared at him, unable to speak. His third eye started to open. She cringed and hugged the post for support, waiting for the searing heat that would turn her to a mound of ash.
    Nothing happened.
    She turned to look at Zarku, who was staring at her