Read Online The Girl in the Garden by Kamala Nair - Free Book Online
Authors: Kamala Nair
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the little keychain flashlight Amma had given me so that I could find my way to the bathroom in the middle of the night. I switched it on, crept barefoot into the hallway, and knocked on Amma’s door. There was no answer.
“Amma,” I said in a loud whisper.
Still no answer.
I opened the door and went inside, but Amma was not there. Her bed was still made up.
I went back into my own room, climbed into bed, turned off the flashlight, and stared up at the ceiling. Where could she be? I knew no one was still awake, since all the lights in the house were turned off. A mosquito whined in my ear; I slapped at it and settled back into the silence.
That’s when I heard it—the snap of a twig under soft footsteps, and the sound of a whisper. I sat up in bed and peeked out the window, my heart drumming against my chest. I saw two figures moving across the yard and climbing over the stone wall behind the house. I just made out the blue and pink saris of Sadhana Aunty and Amma before the shapes receded and disappeared into the forest.
Chapter 6
I t was late afternoon and Amma was lying in bed with the curtains drawn.
“Please, I can’t deal with this right now,” she said to me. “My head is splitting.”
“But Amma, why can’t you tell me what’s back there?” I pleaded. “Meenu and Krishna say a Rakshasi lives there, and that she eats children for breakfast.”
“Listen to me.” Amma heaved herself up with a sigh and her hair fell over one side of her face, shielding it. “It’s nothing that you need to worry about, all right? This isn’t like back home. It’s dangerous to wander too far. Please, just leave it be—this is not the time or place to let curiosity get the better of you. If you love me, promise you’ll obey me and stay out of it.”
“Fine.”
“Promise me, Rakhee.” She cupped my shoulders with her hands and gave me a slight shake. “This is very important to me. If you love me.”
“I promise,” I said.
“Okay, I’m trusting you. Now you need to trust me.” Amma gave me a firm look before she lay down again and let her head loll back onto the pillow. “Close the door behind you, please.”
I wandered out onto the verandah, bored. Meenu and Krishna were having their weekly music lesson. I could hear their voices—Krishna’s high-pitched and a bit sharp, and Meenu’s surprisingly melodious—rising up the scale in time with the jarring rhythm of the harmonium.
Sa-rega-ma-pa-tha-nee-saaa
, I heard them sing, up and down, up and down. I stretched my body out on the swing, rubbing my hand over the dull throb low down in my belly. The ache had followed me around since breakfast. It must be all the new foods I was eating, I thought.
I could not get my mind off Amma’s nocturnal journey. Was there really something living in the forest behind the house, and if so, was Amma helping Sadhana Aunty bring it offerings?
I was never superstitious; Aba always scoffed at any explanation that eluded logic. Once I saved up my allowance and bought a Chinese yin-yang necklace from a trinket store at the mall—all the girls at school were wearing them, and I did not want to be left out. When I came home Amma ordered me to take it off and throw it away. “Where I come from, that symbol is bad luck,” she said. Aba intervened when he returned from work and found me sulking. He told Amma she was being silly, that it was only a harmless trinket; he dug it out of the trash for me and refastened it around my neck. The next day I fell on the driveway and skinned my knee. The day after that, Amma was driving to the grocery store when she skidded on the ice in the middle of a busy intersection, and the car spun around and around like a compass needle until it finally smacked into a telephone pole, leaving a dime-sized bump on her forehead. “It’s that necklace,” she said later that night, sitting in bed propped up by pillows. “No, Chitra.Sometimes people just have bad days. It’s part of
“Amma,” I said in a loud whisper.
Still no answer.
I opened the door and went inside, but Amma was not there. Her bed was still made up.
I went back into my own room, climbed into bed, turned off the flashlight, and stared up at the ceiling. Where could she be? I knew no one was still awake, since all the lights in the house were turned off. A mosquito whined in my ear; I slapped at it and settled back into the silence.
That’s when I heard it—the snap of a twig under soft footsteps, and the sound of a whisper. I sat up in bed and peeked out the window, my heart drumming against my chest. I saw two figures moving across the yard and climbing over the stone wall behind the house. I just made out the blue and pink saris of Sadhana Aunty and Amma before the shapes receded and disappeared into the forest.
Chapter 6
I t was late afternoon and Amma was lying in bed with the curtains drawn.
“Please, I can’t deal with this right now,” she said to me. “My head is splitting.”
“But Amma, why can’t you tell me what’s back there?” I pleaded. “Meenu and Krishna say a Rakshasi lives there, and that she eats children for breakfast.”
“Listen to me.” Amma heaved herself up with a sigh and her hair fell over one side of her face, shielding it. “It’s nothing that you need to worry about, all right? This isn’t like back home. It’s dangerous to wander too far. Please, just leave it be—this is not the time or place to let curiosity get the better of you. If you love me, promise you’ll obey me and stay out of it.”
“Fine.”
“Promise me, Rakhee.” She cupped my shoulders with her hands and gave me a slight shake. “This is very important to me. If you love me.”
“I promise,” I said.
“Okay, I’m trusting you. Now you need to trust me.” Amma gave me a firm look before she lay down again and let her head loll back onto the pillow. “Close the door behind you, please.”
I wandered out onto the verandah, bored. Meenu and Krishna were having their weekly music lesson. I could hear their voices—Krishna’s high-pitched and a bit sharp, and Meenu’s surprisingly melodious—rising up the scale in time with the jarring rhythm of the harmonium.
Sa-rega-ma-pa-tha-nee-saaa
, I heard them sing, up and down, up and down. I stretched my body out on the swing, rubbing my hand over the dull throb low down in my belly. The ache had followed me around since breakfast. It must be all the new foods I was eating, I thought.
I could not get my mind off Amma’s nocturnal journey. Was there really something living in the forest behind the house, and if so, was Amma helping Sadhana Aunty bring it offerings?
I was never superstitious; Aba always scoffed at any explanation that eluded logic. Once I saved up my allowance and bought a Chinese yin-yang necklace from a trinket store at the mall—all the girls at school were wearing them, and I did not want to be left out. When I came home Amma ordered me to take it off and throw it away. “Where I come from, that symbol is bad luck,” she said. Aba intervened when he returned from work and found me sulking. He told Amma she was being silly, that it was only a harmless trinket; he dug it out of the trash for me and refastened it around my neck. The next day I fell on the driveway and skinned my knee. The day after that, Amma was driving to the grocery store when she skidded on the ice in the middle of a busy intersection, and the car spun around and around like a compass needle until it finally smacked into a telephone pole, leaving a dime-sized bump on her forehead. “It’s that necklace,” she said later that night, sitting in bed propped up by pillows. “No, Chitra.Sometimes people just have bad days. It’s part of
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