Authors: Padma Venkatraman

Tags: #Young Adult, #Survival Stories, #Asia, #Fiction, #Indigenous Peoples - India, #Apprentices, #Adventure, #Indigenous Peoples, #Social Issues, #Girls & Women, #Juvenile Fiction, #Business; Careers; Occupations, #Shamans, #Historical, #Islands, #People & Places, #Nature & the Natural World, #History, #Action & Adventure, #India, #General, #Andaman and Nicobar Islands (India), #India & South Asia

Island's End (12 page)

BOOK: Island's End

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“I was waiting for you,” he says. “Shall we go to the beach?”

“Should you not go hunting soon?” I ask.

“Yes, but we had hardly any time together last night. The tribe can do without food from me today. Come.”

We arrive at the beach to find Tawai wading in the shallows, his bow drawn. But instead of looking down into the water for fish, I see he is gazing into the distance. Danna points at him and whispers, “Look at Tawai pretending to fish. He is probably hoping the strangers come again.”

“Tawai,” I call out. “Why do you keep staring out to sea?”

Tawai’s back stiffens. “I am looking for fish, Uido,” he says.

“Then why are you—” My words are cut short as Tawai’s arrow pierces through the waves, scattering a group of fish. He snatches up the wriggling body of a
tarcal-ta
. Holding it tight, he pulls his arrow out from deep inside. Then he walks up the beach, puffing his cheeks out proudly. He tosses the fish on the sand, where it squirms at his feet, and says a quick prayer of thanks to Biliku-waye and Pulug-ame.

We gather around to honor the fish’s spirit with a moment of quiet until it lies still.

Danna breaks the silence. “Well done. Tarcal-ta is the tastiest fish in the ocean.”

Tawai looks pleased and runs down the sand again to catch a few more.

Danna holds me back. “Let us swim, Uido.” He scoops me into his arms and runs away from Tawai.

“What are you doing, Danna? I am not a child.” I giggle, sounding like Natalang. Lifting me higher, he dashes into the surf.

“Put me down,” I say, although feeling Danna’s arms around me makes me want to be held closer.

He drops me into the cold water. “Catch me if you can!” he shouts, plunging into the waves.

I swim through the breaking waves, but Danna is far ahead. I take a big breath and dive underwater to go faster. I keep my feet together, hands at my sides, my body curving like a dolphin’s. Patches of reef sparkle beneath me like flowers and different-colored fish swim among them like underwater butterflies.

I pull alongside Danna and lift my head above the ocean’s surface. “You may be taller now,” I say, “but I am a stronger swimmer.”

Danna grins and reaches underwater for my hand. An anemone stuck to a rock beneath us waves its arms at him as though it, too, wants to touch his body. For a while, we float together. It feels wonderful to drift like seaweed, aimless and lazy. Carried by the ocean, my body and spirit feel lighter.

“Shall we race back?” Danna asks.

We turn back to shore, my long strokes carrying me slightly ahead of Danna. But he pulls in front of me the instant our shadows ripple over the shallows, frightening a ray.

I try to catch up with Danna but cannot. In no time, he stands in the ankle-deep water near the shore, laughing at me. “Faster!” he calls.

He strides out of the waves, his wet skin dazzling against the white sand. I slow down to gaze at the water trickling across the scars decorating his arms and legs. A pleasant shiver creeps up my back as I walk out of the surf toward him.

Just as our hands meet again, I hear Tawai shout, ‟
Olaye, olaye, odo-lay, odo-lay!
Ragavan is coming!”

T
awai is already halfway up a coconut tree near the southern end of the beach, where the strangers’ boat is approaching. “You should climb this tree instead of standing on the beach all day,” he shouts down to the boy who is on watch. “I can see everything from up here.”

“Not everyone is a monkey like you,” the boy replies, before alerting the tribe. ‟
Olaye, olaye, odo-lay, odo-lay!
Come, everyone! The strangers are here again.”

I stare in shock at the metal boat approaching our reef. “Danna, do you think the spirits have forsaken me? Why did I have no dream about the strangers’ arrival this time? Every other time, I knew before they came.”

“Perhaps the spirits have other messages for you,” Danna says. “They cannot always tell you everything, Uido. I am sure there is much Lah-ame does not see.”

I know Danna is right. Still, I shift from one foot to the other, unsure of what to do and upset that the spirits did not warn me about Ragavan’s approach.

“Do you want to leave?” Danna asks, as though he senses my unease.

“No. I would feel worse not seeing what the strangers do.”

I hear the splash of paddles as Ragavan and his two men row ashore in their wooden canoe. They jump out and start piling coconuts and bananas on the sand. Ragavan has a yellow bag on his back that looks a little like our boar-skin water bags.

Suddenly, my little brother squeals like a frightened boar. To my horror, I see Tawai tumble out of the tree and onto the ground. His body hits the sand with a soft thump.

We rush up the beach to Tawai’s side, fear carrying my legs ahead of Danna’s. Bending over my little brother, I lay my palm down flat on his chest.

“Tawai!” I say. “Are you all right?” My hand trembles with anxiety until I feel the steady throb of his heart.

Tawai sits up and chuckles. “Did I scare you?”

I grab Tawai’s head with both my hands, kiss his forehead, then give his ear a hard twist. He squeaks.

“You silly fool!” Danna says, hugging Tawai to his chest.

“I was so glad to see Ragavan again, I forgot to hold on tight,” Tawai says. “But it is not a tall tree.”

I look Tawai over closely. To my relief, he seems to have escaped with no more than a badly grazed knee.

“I am all right, Uido.” He scowls. “I was halfway down before I fell off.”

I reach for the medicine bag at my waist but Lah-ame’s warning flashes into my mind. I hesitate with my hand on my pouch, unable to decide if cleaning Tawai’s small cut would be wrong.

“Uido?” Danna asks. “Is something wrong?”

“Lah-ame said I must not try to heal anyone until I fight my spirit animal,” I say.

“You must fight a spirit?” Danna sounds worried. “When? Why?”

“It is hard to explain.” I do not want to frighten Danna by saying any more about the test ahead of me. I gaze at Tawai, who looks as well as he did earlier that morning. “Perhaps it is best if I use no medicines on his cuts.”

“His leg does not seem badly hurt,” Danna agrees.

As we discuss what to do, Ragavan approaches us wearing a half-smile that stretches his lips but does not brighten his face. He feels Tawai’s wrist, shakes his head and forces Tawai to lie back down.

“Leave Tawai alone,” I say angrily to Ragavan, though I know he cannot speak our language.

Ignoring me, Ragavan slides the yellow bag off his shoulder. He opens the bag with a sound like the buzz of a mosquito and pulls out a large white box with two crossed red lines on top. Ragavan takes a see-through vessel out of the box. He opens it and the stench of the medicinal juice inside wakes me from my moment of curiosity.

I lunge toward Ragavan to pluck the vessel out of his hands. Danna tries to help by catching hold of Ragavan’s arms. But it is too late.

Tawai grabs the vessel and pours some juice onto his leg. He shrieks.

“I told you not to use it,” I say, terrified the juice has hurt him.

Tawai stops making faces and says, “This medicine makes my skin prickle. It feels funny. Not like Lah-ame’s.”

I hear footsteps pounding down the sand. Several hunters come out of the jungle with their bows drawn, among them Ashu and his two friends.

“We heard you scream,” Ashu says. “What happened?”

Tawai speaks excitedly about Ragavan’s medicine.

Ashu puts his arrows back into his quiver. “I thought you were supposed to be the one to cure people, Uido,” he says with a smirk.

Feeling hurt, I do nothing but watch as Ragavan pinches the skin from Tawai’s open cut together and covers it with a flat, pinkish brown strip.

“Look!” Tawai points at his leg. “Ragavan stuck my cut back together!”

The hunters gather around us, along with some ra-gumul girls who have just arrived. Ashu and his friends tell them how Ragavan helped Tawai with his powerful medicines.

Meanwhile, Ragavan reaches into his bag and takes out another box, this one only about as long as his thumb. Kneeling in front of Ashu, he holds it out as if he wants Ashu to take it.

Ashu tries to open the box, but the lid seems to be stuck. He tosses it on the ground in disgust.

“Open the box, Ragavan,” Tawai says. “Show us how.”

Ragavan smiles as though he understands. His hairy fingers push at the side of the box and slide it open. Inside are tiny wooden twigs—all perfectly straight, all the same size. Each stick has a tiny red berry at the very tip, but they are too straight to be anything that fell off a tree.

Ragavan stands up and holds the box well above anyone’s reach. With one quick movement, he strikes the red part of one twig against the side of the lid. At once, the twig bursts into a small flame.

We all step back. Some people cry out in fear. Others seem shocked into silence. Never before have we seen fire kindled so quickly, without any ceremony. Ragavan does not say anything in his own language to thank the spirits for the gift of fire. Worse, he blows out the flame and throws the twig carelessly away.

“Look how fast Ragavan lights a fire!” Tawai says, hopping up and down like a tree frog. “What a clever man!”

But Ashu’s lips curl in a sneer. “I, too, can make fire from this twig!” he says to Tawai. He opens Ragavan’s bag wide and we see it is stuffed full with boxes of magic fire twigs just like the one Ragavan is holding. I hear a hunter whisper in awe, “He has hundreds of boxes!”

I expect Ragavan to take the bag back from Ashu, but instead Ragavan grins. He looks pleased rather than upset by Ashu’s rudeness.

Ashu takes a stick out carefully, rubs it against the side of the lid like Ragavan, and watches as it bursts into flame. My people back away still farther, but their eyes are on Ashu.

“Fire is sacred,” I hiss at my brother. “You should know better than to play with it.”

Ashu’s nose flares in anger. “Stop telling me what to do, Uido.”

“I want a magic twig,” Tawai begs Ragavan. “Please?”

Ragavan pats Tawai’s head and gives him a whole box. My little brother takes it with a joyful smile.

“No, Tawai,” I say.

Danna snatches the box out of my little brother’s hands and gives it to me. I crush it angrily in my fist.

“Give it back!” Tawai says. But then Ragavan pours the rest of the boxes from his bag onto the sand. Tawai grabs a box and skips away from me and Danna. Ragavan waves his hand at Tawai as if to say farewell and walks down the beach to join his friends, who wait near their canoe.

The crowd on the beach thickens. In the distance, I hear the steadily fading drone of the strangers’ boat leaving our island.

I search for Kara, wishing he were here to help me control my brothers. But he must be deep in the jungle hunting. The others around us seem both amazed and scared by the fire twigs. One of my uncles murmurs prayers under his breath as he rubs his bone necklace between his fingers. I see a child reach for a box of twigs but his mother pulls him back.

“Natalang!” Ashu calls out, lighting another flame. “Do you want to try this?”

I notice then that Natalang is coming down the beach, digging stick in hand, her bark bag swinging as she walks. She smiles at him, her eyes wide with admiration.

A few other ra-gumul girls and women are with her, Mimi among them. Mimi pushes through the crowd and asks, “What is happening here, Uido?”

Tawai answers, “Ragavan gave us a wonderful gift! I can make fire. Watch.” He tries to set a magic twig on fire, but the flame jumps up and licks his thumb. He squeals, drops the stick and sucks his finger.

Mimi strikes his hand down, trembling with horror. But even our mother’s presence does not stop Ashu. “Here, little brother, watch this,” Ashu says, lighting another twig.

I storm up to Ashu. “Stop.”

“Ragavan is more powerful than you will ever be, Uido,” Ashu says. “Not only does he heal better than you do, he also knows how to capture fire. We have new magic. We have fire twigs.”

“We have new magic! We have fire twigs!” Tawai begins to chant.

He is cut off by a woman’s cry. “Lah-ame is here!”