The Third Eye by Mahtab Narsimhan Page B

with those whiteless eyes.
    â€œMy third eye won’t open,” he breathed. “ I DON’T UNDERSTAND THIS! ”
    Tara released a deep and shaky breath.
    For a moment, they stood staring at each other in the silent moonlit clearing. Tara stood frozen while Zarku studied her with his eyes narrowed. Suddenly, she turned and ran. Zarku did not follow.
    As she disappeared behind the temple, she heard him call out.
    â€œMy Vetalas will find you, Tara, and they will complete the job I was not able to do. Watch your back.”
    â€¢â€¢â€¢
    It was more luck than anything that guided Tara back to where she had left her things. She felt as if she was in some kind of weird dream and unable to make sense of anything. Tara stumbled to the bedding, lay down, and fell into an exhausted sleep.
    She awoke once more to the cacophony of bird calls and sunlight glinting through an undulating green ceiling. And she was still alive. She sat up and clasped her knees to her chest, deep in thought. The sun was still shining, the birds still singing. She had been through so much in the last day and night. She had lost her beloved brother and then discovered Zarku’s past. What was more shocking was that he had been unable to kill her.
I wonder why?
she asked herself.
    Tara stood up and shook out Suraj’s blanket to put it away. Something dropped out of the folds and sparkled in the morning sunlight. Tara bent to retrieve it. It was the silver thread Zarku had been talking to last night: an anklet. It was heavy and the beaten silver was in an intricate design. It must have been his mother’s and when it had fallen into her blanket, it had protected her. That seemed to be the only reason she was still alive. Tara said a prayer to his mother, slipped the bracelet into the bundle, and finished packing.
    She sat down to think. It was now more important than ever to find Prabala before Zarku and the Vetalas did.But could she do it alone? Suraj and she had set out on this journey believing that their mother and grandfather were alive. She
would
carry on alone and find them. Suraj’s death would not be in vain.
    Tara headed north. She gathered edible roots and berries to munch. The food she had packed was long gone but she still had a bit of water left. She would manage till she reached a village.
    Tara was deep in thought as she continued walking. She hated doing anything alone, always seeking out Suraj’s companionship. Now she had no choice. And she found that she was not as scared as she thought she might be. A small frisson of pride shot through her.
I can do this
, she thought. She marched on, keeping a sharp eye on the moss-covered forest floor. Then she saw it: a small path made by bare feet. She hurried along it. The trees started thinning around her and sunlight poured through in large patches of liquid gold.
    All of a sudden she stopped. She heard a faint chant in the distance. The voices came closer ... still closer ... and her heart started thumping. She stepped off the path and cautiously dodged from tree to tree. Had Zarku sent his Vetalas? But she knew they only came out at night. Had her wicked stepmother sent a search party to haul them back home? It couldn’t be; she was miles away from Morni. Was her father searching for them? Not possible — he did not care about them at all.
    Who could it be?
    â€œRam Nam Satya Hai.”
    â€œRam Nam Satya Hai.”
    The chant for the dead. Now she understood, and her heart slowed its frantic beat. A group of villagers were carrying one of their dead to the burning ground outside the village. She had never seen a funeral pyre and she was curious. Children were normally not allowed to watch a Sati ceremony, though she had heard about it in the stories that their father had told them. Most of the villagers believed that cremation purified the soul of the dead. The ashes were then scattered by the eldest son of the family into the holy Ganges River