Read Online The Third Eye by Mahtab Narsimhan - Free Book Online

surprise and annoyance.
    â€œAll right, Tara. Calm down. You can have these now if you want them so badly.”
    He rummaged in the pile of scrap leather in front of him and pulled out some bits that matched the colour of the shoes. He handed them to Tara.
    â€œTuck these into the toe. Or put some strips near the heel. Wear thick socks and you’ll be warm and comfortable. Good choice, lots of room for the toes to grow, henh?”
    He chuckled and shuffled back to the platform.
    Tara went up to him and held out the ten-rupee note. He looked up at her.
    â€œI cannot take that, Tara. Your mother was like a sister to me. She always brought medicine for my aching eyes and never took a paisa from me. I
never
believed that she was a witch.”
    A sharp intake of breath stopped him from continuing.
    â€œMy mother, a witch?” whispered Tara. “Is that what people were saying? Is that why she ran away?” she asked in a softer voice, hands clasped at her chest.
    â€œYes, Tara. Most of the villagers thought she was a witch.”
    â€œBut why?” asked Tara, tears welling up in her eyes. “All she did was warn people of danger and save their lives.”
    â€œYes, but her foretelling powers scared some of the villagers. It is always the case when one cannot understand something. They fear it! Someone poisoned the minds of the Panchayat and they decided to stone her to death.”
    Tara turned pale. Beads of sweat stood out on her forehead and she was starting to feel nauseous.
    â€œSo that is why she had to go?”
    â€œYes, and Prabala went with her. He could not let his daughter brave the forest alone. Besides, he was very disappointed with the attitude of the villagers and decided to leave to teach them a lesson.”
    â€œBut why did no one tell us anything?” asked Tara. “Even Mother did not say a word.”
    The cobbler sighed deeply.
    â€œThe Panchayat forbid us to speak of either of them again. And I think your mother did not want you to worry,” said the cobbler.
    Tara stared at the cobbler as thoughts churned in her head like a village-woman making buttermilk. The villagers thought her mother was a witch and they had wanted her dead. Was this the reason their father had married again? Why he hated them so much? Because they were the children of a witch? It was all too much to think about and she stood there dumbstruck. Someone tugged her kurta.
    â€œLet’s go, Didi. I want to go home,”Suraj pleaded.
    Tara saw the anguished look on Suraj’s face.
    â€œWe must go, Baba,” said Tara in as normal a voice as she could. “Thank you for the shoes,” they said in unison, and hugged him.
    He kissed their foreheads and then pushed them gently toward the door.
    â€œBe careful, whatever you do. May Lord Ganesh be with you,” he said.
    Tara looked back at him in amazement. Did he know? But the cobbler was already engrossed in the next repair and did not look up. They walked out of the shop. Tara stuffed the shoes under her clothes and threw the red and blue shawl over her, hoping the bulge would go unnoticed till they reached home.
    As they walked to the centre of the market, Tara noticed people whispering.
    â€œHai Ram, NOOOOOOOOO, ” a woman howled. “Oh my son, what has happened to you? Talk to me.
Say
something!”
    The howling was coming from Ravi’s hut. Ravi’s old mother stood outside the door, beating her chest. Villagers who had been milling around rushed as one toward the wailing woman. Within moments a large crowd had gathered.
    Tara and Suraj, on the outskirts of the crowd, craned their necks, but the crowd was too thick. Suraj got down on all fours and rapidly crawled between the sea of legs, drawnto the noise. Not wanting to miss a thing, Tara followed him. What she saw made her sit back in shock. Suraj had stopped too, and was crawling backwards and whimpering. He buried his head in his hands, trembling