Riddle of the Seventh Stone, The

Chapter One

Shashee dangled upside down from the ceiling, ready for any challenge. Her long, skinny legs quivered with excitement. She bungee-jumped towards the floor on her fine silk thread. Then she shot back up to the ceiling and swung from beam to beam like an acrobat.

Rishabh peeped out from his hole behind a teakwood shelf. Hey, Shashee, he called. What do you think you’re doing up there? Rishabh yawned and whisked his tail with annoyance. Today Shashee’s antics were impossible to ignore. That show-off was swinging down far too low for comfort.

Take it easy. This is my chance to grab the attention I deserve. Shashee twirled her round, hairy body on her thread. Just watch me. I’m going to plunge into old Venkat’s coffee and scare the living daylights out of him.

Rishabh ventured out from the safety of his hole and scurried off to a dingy corner of the shop. There was work to be done. Don’t you ever tire of playing around on the ceiling? Why can’t you help out old Venkat like me? he asked Shashee.

Hey! Shashee lifted her pincers and scuttled off to her cobweb. You forget I’m the hundred-year-old great-grandmother of all the spiders around here. I’m the champion layer of gazillions of eggs and the oldest and wisest person in this entire shop. It’ll take an eighty-five-year-young rat like you ages to catch up with me. Shashee lifted her black abdomen with a flourish and returned to weaving her latest cobweb.

Rishabh crept up to inspect a freshly arrived packing case. He had his paws full checking the rare herbs, plant extracts and spices that Venkat stocked in his shop. Rishabh used his talents as a champion digger to take inventories of each dusty shelf and every moth-ridden storage bin. New stocks of sandalwood oil and amla were due tomorrow. Then he would burrow into more parcels for inspections. Where was the time to fool around?

Rishabh gnawed into today’s new arrival, a crate of brahmi. He knew from reading Venkat’s ancient texts on the properties of herbs that brahmi magically enhanced mental powers, fragrant sandalwood paste soothed skin irritations, and amla helped digestion. Rishabh sniffed the herb powder and twitched his whiskers with approval. Yes! It had that perfect grassy-dusty smell. Some day Venkat would take notice and thank Rishabh for his tireless work.

If you don’t mind your business, Shashee ranted on, old Venkat will call in the pest control and fumigate you out. Stay in the dark corners and gutters where you belong and don’t bug me again. Shashee hopped out of her cobweb and did a somersault in mid-air. Then she plummeted down to a few inches above Venkat’s head and halted.

Venkat, a wrinkled man of countless years, blinked at his ledger. His fingers drummed on the scarred wooden desk. Lord Shiva! The account books are as confusing as a bowl of noodles, he muttered. He rubbed his face, smudging the vermilion mark on his forehead. Where has all my money gone? Venkat sighed and wiped his foggy glasses. What if I can’t pay off my loans? Will I have to give up my shop? His gaze darted around nervously, as if seeking help. Then he covered his face and slumped like a punctured balloon.

Rishabh eyed Venkat with mounting concern. Today the kind old man was more flustered than ever. What was bothering him?

Look at Venkat’s father’s portrait on the wall. Shashee shouted for Rishabh’s benefit. I watched over that man poring through his ledgers. Today he’s nothing but a painting. I’ve seen Venkat grow from a boy to a young man brimming with hope. And just look at him now!

Rishabh pricked up his ears and twitched his whiskers. Poor Venkat! He became heartbroken after his only son and daughter-in-law died twelve years ago in an accident. Venkat’s twin grandchildren, Deepak and Leela, were six months old then. How could Rishabh ease their troubles and make them happy?

Venkat appeared too harried to notice Shashee swinging right above his head, or Rishabh digging about. But that didn’t dampen Rishabh’s spirits. Nothing escaped his alert, beady eyes; the dark teak-panelled walls, the dusty shelves of mysterious jars and packets, the dim, unshaded light bulbs dangling like Shashee from the ceiling, and the front door.

This door was the gateway to the busy world outside.

The bustle of Avenue Road barely entered this dark, musty shop. Rishabh’s grandfather had told him how the warrior king Kempe Gowda founded the city of Bangalore more than four centuries ago. Avenue Road was once a wide thoroughfare lined with trees. But the shady trees had long since given way to shops, stalls, and footpaths. Today it was another crowded street in this sprawling Indian city.

Rishabh crept up to the doorway and peered out. Crowds swarmed on the footpaths outside the dingy old shop. Cars, bicycles, scooters, and handcarts rolled by. Beggars jostled against merchants, housewives, pickpockets, and the occasional stray cow and dog. Roadside hawkers and shopkeepers called out, enticing customers with silks, precious and fake jewels, garments, books, and so much more. Shoppers haggled for fantastic bargains or got royally cheated.

Rishabh turned and scurried back inside. Venkat’s shop was in the middle of this bustling commercial hub, but nothing had changed in it since Venkat’s father’s days.

What could have happened to all my expensive alfalfa? Venkat struggled on with his books, scratching his bald head in despair. His fair cheeks turned red with the effort as he tried to remember. Alfalfa? What alfalfa? Who alfalfa? Venkat mumbled. Wait, there never was any alfalfa. And where’s my packet of cream crackers? He turned his pockets inside out and fumbled in his wallet. Now I have nothing to munch with my coffee. He groaned and sucked the tip of his salt-and-pepper beard.

With such important business on his mind, Venkat never noticed Shashee’s gymnastics on the ceiling. Rishabh picked up the packet from Venkat’s desk and scurried off, unchallenged, to nibble on the last of the cream crackers.

Tired of dangling in mid-air, Shashee jumped onto the portrait of Venkat’s father. She peered into the life-like eyes, admiring the maharaja-style, jewelled mysore peta turban. How I wish I had headgear like his, she said, and bobbed up and down enthused by the thought. It would highlight my pincers and enhance my natural good looks.

Turbans are worn by men, not self-obsessed spiders, snapped Rishabh. Why don’t you just stop messing about and let me work in peace?

I’ll wear a grand turban some day if I want to, said Shashee. I’m a spider. Human rules don’t apply to me.

Rishabh ignored her and scurried off to sniff the dusty, leafy scent pervading the shop. Perfumed smoke curled up from incense sticks, adding an air of mystery. Venkat’s herbal products store was a wonderful, perpetual mess. The place looked as if it hadn’t been tidied up in a hundred years. Rishabh scrambled up the rickety shelves and blinked at the labels in Venkat’s father’s cramped, faded handwriting.

I’ve been a good rat, he said to Shashee. Phew! I need a break after so much digging. I’ll have a closer look at Venkat’s father’s picture too. Poor fellow. Remember how he used to leave half-eaten chocolates and rotting bananas all over the place? Yum!

Rishabh ventured up the shelves and crept toward the portrait. The dim bulbs threw crooked, menacing shadows around him. Were the eyes of Venkat’s father’s portrait turning to the embossed copper plaque hanging beside it? Rishabh examined the fine patterns on the plaque. It was a mystical srichakra, the abode of the Absolute and the All Pervading according to the Hindus. He fluffed his fur and shuddered to shake off the herbal dust. Then he climbed up the gilded picture frame.

Shashee hopped frantically onto the picture and clicked her pincers.

A friendly smile played at the corners of Rishabh’s mouth. Maybe that creepy spider wanted to patch up and make friends. Rishabh responded with a wave of his tail.

Oh no! Shashee groaned. Don’t poop on Venkat’s father’s picture.

When Rishabh passed his droppings, a tingle vibrated through his body. Was it an electric current from some leaky wiring? Perhaps it got special powers from the mystical srichakra and the potent brahmi dust on Rishabh’s fur. There was a tiny spark, and poof! Little puffs of glowing green smoke rose around them both.

Rishabh floated in a sea of fizzy cola. Sharp tingles passed through his body. Fireflies flickered everywhere. Why was Shashee tottering? Rishabh watched with horror as Shashee reeled and fell off the picture frame.

Rishabh lost his balance and followed Shashee down to the floor in a daze. Through the smoke and sparks, he saw Venkat’s grandchildren run in through the front door.

Thatha! Thatha! cried Deepak and Leela. The twins threw down their school bags and rushed to hug their grandfather. Venkat’s bleary eyes sparkled to life as he cuddled his grandchildren.

Guess what happened in school today, Thatha, shouted Deepak, patting Venkat’s round paunch. Sandeep poured out his water bottle into Geeta’s school bag.

Geeta smeared Sandeep’s shirt with ink, Leela piped up, kissing her grandfather.

Their grandmother, or Ajji as they called her, shouted in a rasping voice from their home behind the shop. Come soon, or the pongal will get cold and lumpy.

Rishabh dragged his tingling body closer. Through the green haze, he watched the hungry kids skip off to eat with Venkat hobbling close behind. They were unaware of the spider, the rat, and the tiny puffs of mysterious green smoke behind a row of shelves in the far corner of their shop.

While the kids ate, Ajji and Venkat discussed discipline. Don’t shout at them so much. The poor dears need tender persuasion, not scolding, said Venkat. He smiled at Deepak and ran his fingers through Leela’s black curls.

Aye? Speak a bit louder, will you? Ajji craned her wrinkled neck in an effort to hear. Yes, it’s high time the shop is polished and painted. Don’t remember anything being done here ever since the day I arrived as a new bride. I also need a new broom and dusters for our house. And will you please call in the pest control? Too many spiders, rats, and cockroaches crawling all over.

Meanwhile in the front of the shop, puffs of green smoke grew and spread. Rishabh coughed, spluttered, and rolled on the floor. Clawing the air to regain his balance, he watched Shashee tottering nearby. Bluish white electric sparks crackled and glowed around Shashee’s writhing body. The acrid fumes burned through Rishabh’s insides. Rishabh saw Shashee twitch a bit and then, lie ominously still.

Chapter Two

As the smoke cleared, Rishabh tried to focus his thoughts.

A girl, whom Rishabh had never seen before, cried out, Where are all my legs? The gawky girl made an unsteady effort to rise. Then, she tottered and sprawled again onto the dusty floor.

The strange girl’s cries cleared Rishabh’s mind. Was he dead? He had seen friends die. They rolled over, fell on