Tikkipala by Sara Banerji Read Free Book Online Page A

said Sangita.
    As though she was not there, the Raja told the servant, ‘Now you can put it in.’ Wrapping a piece of thick hessian round the end of the iron bar, the bearer pulled it from the fire and plunged it into the water. There came a loud hissing then the dull explosion of stone.
    â€˜Quickly bring them out before they shatter,’ cried the Raja. ‘And make sure the next iron rod is well inside the fire for you must follow up at top speed.’
    â€˜I have come to see my child,’ said Sangita again, her voice coming out shrill and shaky. Her arms tingled with their craving to hold the baby after three long weeks. But before she could reach the cradle, the Raja sprang before her and blocked the way. He stood between her and the cradle and would not let her touch the child. ‘Leave my house,’ he said.
    â€˜I want to hold my child.’
    â€˜Call the watchmen,’ the Raja said to the servants, who were standing with their hands filled with crystals, staring with fascination at the disgraced Ranee. ‘Tell them there is an intruder in our grounds.’
    â€˜What must I do for you to let me stay?’ cried Sangita.
    â€˜There is nothing you can do. So please leave my house before the watchmen drag you out,’ said the Raja.
    â€˜I am innocent,’ cried Sangita. ‘There was nothing I could have done.’
    He turned to the brazier in which several irons were glowing scarlet.
    â€˜Look, look,’ screamed Sangita. ‘If I am innocent, one of those hot irons will not burn me. If it burns me it will show I am guilty but if it does not then you will see that I am innocent.’ She tried to push past him and get to the brazier.
    He put his arms out and stopped her. ‘You are not Sita, and also the story of Sita walking, unscathed through a fire, to prove her innocence to King Rama after she was kidnapped by the demon Ravana, is only a fable. There is no truth in it and if you touch that rod, you will certainly be badly burnt.’
    â€˜Will you believe me, though, if I am not,’ screamed Sangita.
    When he said nothing, she persisted, ‘Will you?’
    He laughed. ‘You are showing off. You are being ridiculous. It is clear that you will not have the courage to hold one of those irons with your naked hand.’
    â€˜But if I do and the iron does not burn me, will you believe me then? Will you take me back because the gods have shown you that I am innocent?’
    He bowed his head a little, then said, ‘But this is impossible, as you surely know.’
    â€˜See, see, I will show you how innocent I am,’ cried Sangita and before the Raja and the servant had time to react, she had reached past him pulled out one of the red hot irons and pressed her palms around it.
    It seemed to her that forever went by while she stood with a red hot iron clasped in her bare hands.
    The servant and Raja stared at her.
    Her husband was looking at her at last. He had talked to her. Everything was going to be alright.
    She had a faint recollection of the baby waking, starting to cry, but no one noticed. All the attention was fixed on her hands round the burning iron.
    â€˜It is not burning me. My innocence is proved,’ cried Sangita. ‘Now you must take me back as you have promised.’
    â€˜Let me see your hands,’ said the Raja. ‘Drop the iron and let me see.’
    Smiling, relieved, Sangita threw down the iron where it sizzled and scalded into the grass. She held out her hands for the Raja to see. They were pink with heat and smudged with soot. But they were not burnt.
    â€˜Now you must take me back as you promised,’ she repeated.
    â€˜I will think about it,’ said the Raja.
    â€˜But you said…but you promised…’ As she started crying, she saw the watchmen coming across the garden.
    â€˜Perhaps the iron was not so hot as I thought,’ said the Raja. ‘And please do not enter here again