Tikkipala (27 page)

Maw pressed his lips together as he listened to them and tried to frame his words. At last he said, ‘My people, perhaps the Tikki is not as powerful as you think.'

The elders gazed at him, aghast. ‘Because you are the Maw, you dare say such a thing. If it had been any other member of our tribe, the blasphemer would be driven out.'

‘Please hear me,' cried Maw. ‘Perhaps our troubles have come about because we have relied so much on the Tikki to protect and avenge us when we should be doing these things for ourselves. Perhaps the Coarseones would not have seized our living places if we had tried to fight with them. Perhaps Pala would still be alive if the Coarseones had been afraid of us.'

‘This is bad speaking, king,' the elders said. ‘And the Tikki will punish us all if you persist in it.' The elders spat into their navels to drive away the evil of the Maw's blasphemous words.

When Maw saw that there was nothing he could do to persuade them, he sat silent, listening while they sought about, thinking of something great enough to give the Tikki.

‘It must be our most precious thing,' the elders said..

‘But we have nothing left,' the people said. ‘All our precious things are gone.'

And then without speaking the people turned and looked at Animal. This was their last possession.

‘No, no,' cried Maw, putting his arm defensively round Animal's neck.

The Animal gave a wail when it understood what the people were planning.

But the people began to applaud and agree. ‘Our elders are right, and this is what we must give.'

‘Without Animal we will have no cells to clone another pack,' cried Maw. ‘Think again, for this is foolishness.'

‘Our decision is a good one,' the elders said. ‘For the Tikki will understand the greatness of our gift and in her gratitude, be sure to help us.'

‘She may not be able to help you,' cried Maw. ‘Perhaps she cannot even help herself.'

‘My king, your sojourn among the Coarseones has affected you…' They glanced from one to another, giving glances with question in them.

‘From the way you look, one to another, you are thinking that I should cease to be your Maw. And if you want this then I will go away from you. But otherwise, if you hear me a little, our people may be saved.'

Bracing themselves for further blasphemy, the elders waited.

‘Pala was brave,' cried Maw. ‘Pala died trying to drive away the Coarseones and that is what we should be doing too. We should go down to the clearing and, seizing their axes, cut open the tree cutters' heads. Only that will make the death of Pala meaningful.'

But the people of the tribe had no history of warfare. They had never had an enemy. When they killed, it was for food to fill their stomachs. They shuddered and remembered what had happened to Pala. They remembered how Pala had lain, bound
and daily dying, while the Coarseones has spat into his mouth and urinated into his eyes.

‘The Coarseones will do these things to us as well,' whispered the elders.

‘'If you are truly decided,' said Maw, ‘Then I, your Maw, will make the offering. I will take Animal, who is my beloved creature, to the place of sacrifice.'

The people and the elders looked pleased them Maw said this, as though it took away some of the badness of his previous doubt.

Because their tools and paints were all destroyed, the tribe felt anxious as they prepared their sacrifice but at least the Maw, himself, would make the offering.

‘Do not tie Animal, who has been my helper and my comfort,' Maw said. ‘I will hold it in my arms till Tikki comes and offer it myself.'

Animal stood, sad and meek as they painted it with whatever small colours they could pick up from the ground and the people knew it understood.

This time it was not easy. Without their grinding stones the powder was too coarse and the egg yolk would not bind it properly. They tried to chew the leaves and petals and smear paste upon Animal but the colours faded and became corrupted with their saliva. They tried to make new brushes with tufts of eyebrow hair attached to twigs but could not get the points sufficiently fine. They did the best they could until Animal was prepared, shining with glossy colour, decorated with leaves and blossoms.

That night Devi could not sleep, but it was not the hardness of the camper bed or the snores and groans of the wood cutters in the other tents, but because of the wild wailing of some distant animal in the higher trees. Several times she sat up and tried to listen, to fathom what the sound might mean. Sometimes she thought the howling
sounded like the Animal. Sometimes she thought she heard the sad wailing of the mad boy.

Maw, sitting upright with his legs crossed and his eyes closed, wept with the voices of the jungle for his doomed Animal, while at his side the Animal crouched, wailing, and even though Maw tried to comfort it, it could not stop shaking.

After many hours Maw started to think the Tikki might not come at all. He hoped she would not, for then he could take Animal back to the tribe and maybe they would be persuaded that there was some other way of being saved.

But when the night was at its darkest his nostrils became filled with a dreadful smell and Maw knew that Tikki was approaching. Animal started screaming and began to quake so hard that the boy could hardly hold it.

‘Stay still, dear creature,' he whispered to Animal. And he hoped in his heart that the Tikki would kill Animal quickly and not carry out the pain too long.

He felt a vibration in the earth as though someone heavy was approaching, and the sound of snuffling breath. She was very close. The boy began to shiver too.

After she got back to the Parwal palace, Devi found her happiness had left her. Before they had started cutting the trees, she had liked to sit on the veranda each evening and watch the sun set behind the mountains. But now she felt anger that, instead of the high jungle, there was only a grey scar.

Khan came and found her still sitting, shoulders hunched, her expression miserable.

‘You should not be sad at this cutting down of trees, Madam,' he said.

‘Why?' asked Devi. ‘It is a terrible thing they are doing up there.'

‘It is a good that this bad jungle is being removed,' asserted Khan firmly. ‘For now it seems clear that up there are these monkey people living there. And it must be they who have been responsible for the death of Madam's uncle. Undoubtedly they stole this child for their own evil purposes. Knowing the thinking of such people it is even possible they have eaten him.' He frowned, looked at the small chair she sat in, and said severely, ‘Also that chair is made for a child and is also of a very battered variety,' he said, ‘I will go down to the village and have a new chair made for you.'

‘No, I like it,' said Devi, gripping the sides as though he might try to pull it away from her. ‘I think it might once have been Anwar's. When I sit in it, I get the feeling that Anwar is alive somewhere. Please ask the new bearer to bring me a nimbu panee.'

Khan looked dismayed. ‘Are you certain, Memsahib, that you wish this thag fellow to perform the bearer work instead of myself.'

‘I am quite sure, Khan,' smiled Devi.

‘Even though I am the driver, I will be happy to continue to perform bearer duties,' Khan persisted.

‘Thank you, Khan, but you have enough to do already with the car and I don't mind if the new bearer is a bit clumsy at first.' Then, because he looked forlorn, she asked, ‘Perhaps you would be very kind and go and show the cook how to get the bread to rise. You are the only one that knows how to make a leavening brew from sugar and a banana.' Khan smiled, happy that after all she still needed him, and went hurrying off.

The butler thag burst suddenly in, ten minutes later. He was wearing a greasy red scarf round his head. His dusty khaki trousers were baggy, his long kurta flowed, and he had a kukri slung from one side of his belt, an oiled gun from the other. He held a tall glass of nimbu pani clattering precariously on a plate.

‘You should knock first,' said Devi feebly, trying to subdue a giggle.

The thag grinned delightedly as he proffered the drink but at the last moment, as Devi's hand reached for it, the glass went toppling over, showering Devi and the bandit with salted lime juice.

‘Sorry sorry sorry,' cried the bandit, snatching off his head scarf and wildly mopping her, when Khan returned. He could only stare with horror at the sight and it was a full half minute before he could manage to tell Devi, in tones of outrage, that there were no bananas so there would be no bread the next day.

‘Can't they ferment something else?' Devi asked. ‘Does it have to be banana?'

But seeing memsahib's knees being wiped with the bandit's scarf had driven all thoughts of bread fermentation from Khan's mind.

In the Bidwar, Devi's aunts became so anxious about the Devi problem that, against all better judgement, they went to discuss the matter with the Ranee Sangita.

‘It is most irresponsible of Anoo to allow her to remain alone with only the company of a Muslim driver, in a broken palace, and waited on by bandits,' said Mala.

‘If she had been married by now, such a thing would not have happened,' said Srila. ‘I still think it is remiss of Anoo not to insist she marries.'

Sangita, of course, was entirely unsympathetic. ‘Marriage is an unfortunate state for a woman as I know well, and I am pleased that this granddaughter of mine is focusing on her career instead of turning herself into a milking animal.'

‘Being alone with nothing but stones for company has turned Ranee Sangita completely potty,' Mala and Srila whispered to each other as they crept away, adding, ‘And it is clear to see that she is at the root of this problem.'

‘And no matter what the Ranee says, this way of life is not a suitable one for a respectable girl of our family,' Srila agreed.

‘Perhaps we could put some suitable boy in Devi's way,' suggested Mala. ‘One who shares her interests, perhaps?'

‘That's a splendid idea,' cried Srila. ‘And I know such a fellow. Queenie's grandson, Nirmal.'

Mala pinched up her lips. ‘Oh, but Srila, isn't that the boy who refuses to marry, and also has no job, nor from the way Queenie describes it, ever will have one.'

Srila gave a small wink. ‘Now, look at it like this. The boy is of the right family, has been educated at the right school and is not too bad to look at. His only drawback seems to be his lack of career and I can think of a way of curing that.'

The sisters went to the Bidwar Club to talk to Queenie.

This grand lady, eighty nine years old, slim as a sitar, elegant as a Bhramaputra eel, was sitting regally in one of the arm chairs in the drawing room. She greeted Srila and
Mala enthusiastically. ‘I can see from your faces there has been a scandal. Come and sit by me and let me have the story.'

‘There will be a scandal if something isn't done about the situation soon,' said Mala grimly, settling into the next arm chair. And went on to describe Devi's lifestyle at the hill palace.

‘So we have come to you with the suggestion that we try to arrange a marriage between your grandson, Nirmal, and our niece, for we understand that Nirmal, like Devi, is interested in mineral stones,' said Srila.

‘Yes, that's deplorable but true,' said Queenie. ‘But if this self indulgent hobby will find Nirmal a wife and have him united to a family like your own, then perhaps after it will be a good thing.'

‘But there is one small problem,' explained the sisters. ‘Our niece maintains that she does not want to marry.'

‘Doesn't want? What is this ‘doesn't want'?' demanded Queenie. ‘I hope Anoo is not one of these feeble parents who gives into the young person's wish, even though it is against all their interests.'

The sisters had to admit that, actually, the Raja was that kind of parent. ‘Devi knows her own mind and now she has grown up there is nothing he seems to be able to do about it.'

‘Of course there is,' cried Queenie. ‘He is a rich man and should threaten to cut her off if she won't toe the line. That always brings them to heel.'

‘We do not think that would work with Devi,' explained the sisters. ‘She is not much keen on money, you see.'

Queenie was amazed. ‘I have never heard of such a thing and I am not sure if I wish my grandson to be united to such a girl.'

‘But otherwise you think the idea is a good one?' said Srila.

Queenie nodded. ‘A very good one,' she said. ‘There is one small problem, however. The boy has so far not been able to find a suitable job.'

Srila and Mala pretended surprise.

‘But how is it possible that a boy whose family has so many strings to pull and who has had such a good education, should still remain unemployed?' said Mala.

‘You may well ask,' sniffed Queenie. ‘The fact is that my grandson has refused to take up most offers and those he has been persuaded to take up, he has lost through lack of enthusiasm.' She looked right and left, as though about to divulge a dreadful secret, then whispered to the sisters, ‘He says he wants to be a sculptor. This endless collecting of the stones is for decorating his work, he says. A boy of our family. Can you imagine such a thing?'

The sisters bowed their heads in mock dismay. Then went on, ‘We may be able to persuade our brother to give your grandson a job in his company.'

‘Ah,' said Queenie.

But when Mala and Srila went to their brother with the proposition, he became cross. ‘Please don't start this again. You know we have all agreed not to mention that matter anymore.'

‘Ah, but we have a new idea,' said Aunt Srila.

‘For in our opinion,' said Aunt Mala. ‘No matter what Devi thinks now, she will never be happy without husband or children. Who ever heard of a woman getting life's satisfactions out of a heap of stones?'