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words.
    Tara’s eyes met Raka’s, but there was no warmth in them. No smile on his face, either. He had been so happy when she had returned with Suraj and Sadia. He had embraced her warmly and said that she had upheld the name of Morni. It hurt more than anything to see distrust and doubt where once there had been pride and joy.
    â€œBut yes, there is a possibility that the gods are angry with us,” said Raka. “Last week the clouds had started to gather and this week, nothing but blue skies.”
    Tara resumed scrubbing, her chest burning with anger. They were wrong. All of them! She had to prove it. But how?
    â€œI have to go,” said Raka. “Let me know the moment this is done. We have much to pray for!”
    Once again, he supplicated himself in front of Lord Ganesh, then left without glancing at Tara.
    The moment Raka was out the door, Punditji said, “I have some important work to take care of. See that you don’t disturb me for the next couple of hours. And when this room is done, you can start on the steps.” And with that, he shuffled away, barely able to suppress a yawn.
    Tara stood up and stretched her aching back. She walked to the doorway and stared at the flight of steps. She had run up them so often, never giving a thought to how many there were. She counted them for the first time. Thirty-one long slabs of stone that she had to scrub and wash. She lifted her eyes to the huts that spread out before her, to the paddy fields beyond, which were yellow rather than the lush green she loved to see. It stabbed at her heart. Among these were her father’s fields, too. The sky was still blue and cloudless. Did the rain have to be delayed just now?
    â€œOi!” said Punditji. “You can admire the view later. Get to work.”
    Tara jumped, a curse at the tip of her tongue. He had done it again. She felt an irresistible urge to empty the bucket of dirty, soapy water over his spotless white dhoti and then see him yell. But she was in enough trouble already, so she resisted the impulse and got to work until the vast, glowering bulk of Punditji moved away. The door to his room slammed shut. At least she would have peace for a couple of hours while he took care of important matters ; his afternoon siesta. Everyone knew about it, but no one dared say a word for fear of his wrath.
    She paused to brush her damp hair from her eyes and gazed at the figure of Lord Ganesh. The brilliant sunshine that poured in from the windows and doorway made the colours seem even more vibrant. The gold ornaments adorning his body glittered, throwing bright, starry reflections on the ceiling. She looked into the eyes of the clay deity. They were so skillfully painted that no matter where she stood in the room, it seemed that Lord Ganesh was looking straight at her.
    â€œWhy,” whispered Tara. “What is this pattern you’re weaving for me now which I can’t see? And what is it going to look like when you’re done?”
    The Lord continued looking at her serenely, and, in spite of everything, Tara felt a calm descend upon her.
    â€œTalking to yourself, Tara?” said a sneering voice. “You better get used to it because soon no one in Morni will be speaking to you.”
    The calm evaporated as Tara turned around. Layla filled the doorway.
    â€œGet out,” said Tara. “I’m working.”
    â€œDidn’t look like it a moment ago,” said Layla. She stepped into the temple and deliberately walked over the damp patch that Tara had just cleaned, leaving large, muddy footprints. She walked over to the spot where the dead dog had lain. “So this is where you killed it, right?”
    Tara stood up, her heart pounding. She had scrubbed the spot over and over until there was no telltale sign of blood to mark the place. Yet Layla had known exactly where it had been.
    â€œIt was there,” said Tara. She pointed to a corner of the room while watching