Free The Deadly Conch by Mahtab Narsimhan Page A

mother and ask her if she had seen it. But how was she going to explain why she was looking for a shell in the middle of the night? She didn’t dare tell her what she was going to use it for; Lord Yama had forbidden it.
    Tara knelt and fingered Suraj’s clothes next. The moonlight barely reached the interior of the cupboard even though she had opened the doors as wide as they would go. It was not in her brother’s clothes, either. Panic seeped through her, making her arms and legs feel leaden. How could she have lost such a precious thing?
    Then she remembered: any kind of shell was considered bad luck, and most people did not keep one in the house. What if her mother had thrown it out? Tara sat back on her haunches trying to sniff back tears of frustration. She needed that conch. Now!
    I’ll make you suffer. Layla’s menacing whisper echoed in Tara’s head. She shuddered and started rummaging through the clothes again. It had to be here. Maybe she hadn’t looked carefully enough.
    â€œDidi?” said a soft voice. Tara jumped. Suraj stood behind her, rubbing his eyes. “What are you doing?”
    â€œShhhh! Nothing. Go to sleep.”
    â€œBut Didi, I want to help,” he whispered. “What are you looking for?”
    â€œSomething I lost. Now go to sleep or you’ll wake Mother and Father.”
    â€œI’ll find it for you,” he said, leaning closer to whisper in her ear. “What did you lose?”
    Tara sighed. Could she trust him enough to tell him what it was? And how many more questions would that lead to? She stared into his eyes and made up her mind.
    â€œI’m looking for a shell, a pearly, white conch shell that was given to me by a … ummm … a friend. Do you know where it is?”
    â€œYes.”
    Tara’s stomach churned. Was he serious? Just then a thought occurred to her and she frowned. “I kept it in the cupboard behind my clothes. Did you touch it without my permission?”
    Suraj shook his head.
    â€œYou better be telling the truth!” whispered Tara. “Or I’ll be very, very angry with you.”
    Suraj slid his hand into hers, glancing at their parents. Surprisingly they were still asleep. He tiptoed to the kitchen, pulling Tara behind him, and shut the door. She stared at Suraj in the dim moonlit room. Already, the baby features she loved so much were melting away, but his eyes held the same warmth and mischief. He and Layla were the same age, but like earth and sky when it came to personalities.
    â€œYou remember how we used to wake up early like this when Kali was around?” said Suraj. “You’d make us some tea and we’d talk before starting the day’s work.”
    â€œYes and don’t remind me,” said Tara. “It wasn’t a good time.”
    â€œNo, it wasn’t,” he said, as he helped himself to water from the earthen pot. The cup scraped the bottom and she remembered that they would soon have a long trek ahead of them to get water. Just the thought of it made her tired.
    â€œSo where is the conch and how do you know where it is?” demanded Tara. She spoke a little more loudly, now that they were out of earshot of their parents.
    Suraj opened the back door and for the second time that night, Tara stepped out. Pale pink cracks had appeared in the blue-black slab of sky. Suraj went straight to a corner of the courtyard. He pointed to a sapling with broad, oval-shaped leaves and rounded tips that stood straight and tall, a peepul tree. At its base was her shell, splattered with mud. No wonder Tara hadn’t noticed or recognized it!
    She snatched it up and shook off the dew and mud that clung to it. Would it still work? Did the power go away if it became muddy?
    â€œHow did it get here?” Tara almost snapped at Suraj.
    â€œMother found it when she was clearing out the cupboard a few days ago. She asked me if it was mine and I said no. Then she