It was several days before Arul figured out his plan. One afternoon as he walked with Navira and Keeran, he decided to tell them. Under a sky splashed with purple and yellow, they chatted under a large puli tree, stopping to pick the sour pods. Breaking the hard brown shell, they snacked on the dark flesh, allowing its intense flavour to fill their mouths. Jaya lay down nearby and watched them, sniffing hopefully at the fallen pods. But he was a carnivore, and eating puli didn’t quite appeal to him.
Arul took a deep breath of pine scented air, the days becoming colder as autumn took hold. He studied Keeran and Navira as they ate.
This is the right time to tell them.
‘I have something really important to tell both of you, so listen up’. He told them of his secret plan while Navira and Keeran listened with incredulous expressions, their chewing motions slowing down quite a bit. ‘I’ll be better prepared to fight off lions this time. I’ll have my bow,’ Arul said. ‘The thing is, if we don’t find a way to stop those predators from invading farms, come winter we’ll all starve. If we find poachers driving animals off the mountains because they’re after skins, we come back and tell the council. They can organise an armed group to take them on.’ Arul stared into the hazy blue foothills. ‘I could use your help. We should all go.’
‘What do you mean we should go?’ Keeran whined, the pitch of his voice rising higher as he became agitated. He accidentally bit down on a fragment of puli shell. ‘Ow!’ He wailed, holding his jaw, spitting the seeds and crushed shell onto the dirt.
‘So you’ll leave your best friend to wander off to who-knows-where alone?’ Navira said. Now her voice rose in pitch. ‘Don’t you care that we’re hungry all the time? And what about the smaller children like Kavini? She’ll starve.’
Still cradling his jaw, Keeran stepped back a few paces before arguing back. ‘Well, it’s Arul’s plan to find out why some vicious sabre-tooth left the highlands. It’s not my plan, so why should I go?’
‘So we’ll stay home like a pair of grandmas and not help him?’ Navira took a step towards Keeran, now hastily retreating.
Arul stepped in. ‘Don’t force him, Navira.’ He held them with his gaze for a moment. ‘As for me…well, I figure that the village is in trouble and I want to help out. The scouting expedition is delayed and may never happen.’ He stopped talking and pretended to study the ground as a woman carrying a clay pot walked by. Arul continued. ‘I think the elders don’t know what to do about it, so I think we should. Together.’
Keeran had a guilty expression, but said nothing. Navira looked at Arul with a weak smile. ‘Keeran will come around. You’ll see, Arul.’
‘Okay.’ Arul’s eyes filled with doubt. ‘Thanks anyway.’
The aroma of cooking food and woodsmoke drifted across the village as Arul made off towards his home. Most families would eat nothing but watery soup and vegetables tonight. Crops lay rotting in the fields and villagers remained terrified of the beasts prowling the outskirts. For Sailem, things were becoming very grim indeed.
Keeran watched Arul walk away then turned to Navira. ‘My uncle once told me that Arul’s mother disappeared when he was a baby. Just disappeared!’
Navira stared at Keeran. ‘That’s silly! How can someone just vanish?’
‘I don’t know, but maybe that’s what makes Arul do these crazy things, like chase lions through the mountains.’
‘I’m not so sure he’s crazy,’ Navira said with a thoughtful expression. ‘He’s so different.’
It was almost dinnertime. Arul hungrily sniffed cooking aromas wafting all over the village, the fading light turning the sky a deep red. He was nearly home when he heard a ruckus in the fields to the south. Shouting. A knot of men ran past holding their sickles like weapons. Arul spun around, his hand instinctively dropping to his aruval. Within seconds he was sprinting with the villagers, running towards fields of millet shadowed against the bright snow of the mountains in the distance.
Arul heard a shaky voice protesting energetically. ‘I’m not going out there again!’ It was Thiraiyan, a farmer who had been harvesting the late summer crop. ‘I don’t care about the millet! Not with those bears out there!’ He paused to peer into the darkening field. ‘They’re frothing at the mouth! Mad!’
Arul walked to the edge of the field. He could hear the bears growling and snorting, hidden amongst the tall rows of millet. ‘Come back here young fellow!’ One of the men shouted to Arul. ‘It’s too dangerous!’
The other men standing around shouted and waved their sickles threateningly at the bears, yet lacked courage to go into the field. One of the field hands stood next to Arul. ‘There are other fields not being harvested because of animals coming off the mountains and attacking us. Even an elephant last week! And now our grain store is empty!’
Arul left the farmers arguing amongst themselves, walking home deep in thought. He arrived to the sight of a cosy fire, his Appa cooking a pile of uthappam on a hot metal plate. The large rice pancakes were sprinkled with fried onions and smelt mouth-watering.
Where did Appa get these from?
Arul reluctantly went outside and took a bath, followed by a quick puja before diving into dinner. One never ate without washing and praying. That was custom. They finished the meal with hot mugs of thengai paal, sweet milk flavoured with coconut. Arul drained the cup with relish.
Appa must have done some family a big favour to get all this. I reckon I won’t eat like this again for a while.
After dinner, Arul sat outside with his father listening to the chorus of insects in the dark, a small fire crackling noisily between them. He studied his father’s face in the firelight, speculating about what thoughts were going through his mind. The pain so obviously haunting him.
Unbidden, a distant image of a woman’s face caressed Arul’s mind. A long forgotten whisper. It was so fleeting that he barely registered its passing. ‘Who was my Amma?’ He said rather suddenly.
His father stiffened. ‘You know how I feel about that subject, Arul.’
‘I know…but all you keep saying is that she left when I was born. Where is she? Why wait to tell me about her? Don’t I have a right to know right now instead of when I’m twenty?’
His father shifted to face Arul. ‘Because you won’t understand…and it may...well…upset you. Yes. You need to be older,’ he said with some finality.
Arul fingered his amulet, as he did whenever he was upset, feeling the cool gold disk. Its’ curious etchings. He frowned when he thought of all the times he’d asked his Appa where it was from, yet received no answer, just like his questions about his mother.
His father glanced at the amulet. ‘Take good care of that. Your Amma didn’t leave much behind, but she was very specific that it be passed to you if anything happened to her. She told me that the stone contains your heritage. More than that she did not say.’ His voice thickened with grief towards the end and he lapsed into silence. Firelight danced across his face, now etched with sadness.
A gust of wind made Arul shiver, a wave of rustling leaves moving through the nearby plantation like a whisper. The fire sputtered and sparked as if it were angry at the wind for disturbing it.
She left because she didn’t love you. You’re an outsider without a home. Without a mother. A nobody.
Arul stared at the ground. It was of no use. His Appa would never give him an answer. He felt that some terrible secret full of misery lurked just beyond his sight. Without another word, he rose and went indoors, not even stopping to stroke Jaya. The wolf looked at Arul with pale gold eyes, his head tilted to one side. Arul glanced at the wolf, his face bitter and full of pain.
Even Jaya probably knows more about Amma than I do.
