Free Tell A Thousand Lies by Rasana Atreya

overripe bananas mingled with sweat from the people to make me feel sick.
    The news of my ‘miracle’ seemed to have spread, because strangers, perhaps from neighbouring villages, poured into our courtyard. I had always thought of our courtyard as huge. Now I felt suffocated.
    They thronged for my audience.
    “Cure my daughter’s cancer,” the doctor from three villages over sobbed at my feet. I stared down at him in shock. He was the doctor. Why was he asking me for help?
    “Curse my wife. She ran away with her lover,” my teacher said, face hard. For the first time in my life I felt intense distaste for gossip.
    The postman shoved the teacher aside, and fell at my feet. “Find a good groom for my daughter, Oh Pullamma Devi!”
    If I had those kinds of powers, I’d have got one for myself, wouldn’t I?
    Devamma pushed through to making an offering of guavas. The very fruit my friends and I had routinely stolen from her tree, and had our ears twisted for.
    Murty garu watched for a while, then took charge. “Form two lines, one for the ladies and the little ones, one for the men. No need to trample each other. Don’t fall on Pullamma, stay back, stay back.”
    A few men separated from the crowds, and started herding people in lines. The line moved in a ‘U’ – people came from one side, made their offerings, and exited from the other. Finally, I felt as if I weren’t suffocating.
    The day lengthened. I sat in a daze, feeling removed from it all. This wasn’t happening to me. That didn’t seem to dampen the ardour of my devotees. They came, and they came, and they came. Lakshmi garu must have guided my hands in blessing to a few hundred heads that day. She didn’t seem to tire, because she had a constant smile on her face.
    I didn’t say a word. After a while the faces began to blur.
    I blanked my mind, trying to visualize myself walking by the river, stick in hand, chasing Chinni and her goats. The sounds outside my head swirled around, not touching me, leaving me in a curious vacuum.
    I felt myself being shaken. I blinked.
    “Look,” Ammamma hissed.
    I found Kondal Rao garu at my feet. He lay prone for quite a few minutes before being helped up by his swarthy henchmen. He raised a hand at the clamorous crowd. The noise died away. Turning partially toward me, still facing the gathering of devotees, he began to sob noisily. “Oh Pullamma Devi,” he cried. “You have showered me with such blessings. By making an appearance in your earthly form in my constituency, you have shown the world my chosen path is the right one.”
    “Jai Kondal Rao garu ,” a henchman roared. Long live Kondal Rao garu .
    “Jai Kondal Rao garu ,” the crowd roared back.
    A man hobbled up on crutches.
    Kondal Rao garu stepped back.
    The cripple touched my feet. “My legs have failed me. Cure me, Oh Devi.”
    Lakshmi garu guided my hand to the top of his head.
    The cripple closed his eyes for a long moment. When he opened them, he bowed to me, and rested a foot on the ground. An expression of wonder swept over his face. He shoved one crutch aside, then the other.
    The crowd watched with bated breath.
    He took a step, then another, then another. He walked ten steps, circling back to me. He fell at my feet. “Pullamma Devi has cured me. For the first time, I can walk.” He was overcome.
    “Jai Pullamma Devi,” Kondal Rao garu said.
    “Jai Pullamma Devi,” the crowd roared back.
    I had cured him? I had those kinds of powers? I looked at Ammamma.
    She stood to a side with Lata and Murty garu , face ashen.
    First the baby, then this cripple. When the first miracle occurred, I’d been too innocent to recognise it. One miracle, I could overlook. But two? A sense of awe at my own power enveloped me. Kondal Rao garu was right. I was a Goddess. I sat up straight, filled with sense of purpose. Maybe I should stand up to give my devotees darsanam . Everyone deserved an audience with me. I struggled to my feet. Hours of sitting in