Page 37 of Tiger's Curse
“Who knows with tigers? Perhaps he is hungry. Excuse me for a moment, Miss Kelsey.” He smiled at me and went after Ren.
Later, we both settled down in the lovely peacock room, which housed Mr. Kadam’s amazing book collection. The books were stacked carefully on polished mahogany shelves. I picked out a book on India that was full of old maps.
“Mr. Kadam, can you show me where the Kanheri Cave is? Phet said that’s where we need to go to speak to figure out how to get Ren out of this mess.”
He opened the book and pointed to a map of Mumbai. “The cave is in the northern part of the city, in Borivali National Park, which now is called the Gandhi National Park. The Cave of Kanheri is a basaltic rock cave that has ancient writing chiseled on the walls. I have been there before, but I have never found an underground passage. Archeologists have been studying the cave for years, but still no one has yet found a prophecy written by Durga.”
“What about the Seal that Phet spoke of? What is it?”
“The Seal is a special stone that has been in my care all of these years. I keep it safe with many of Ren’s heirlooms in a bank vault. In fact, I must leave now to retrieve it. I will bring it to you tonight. It might be a good idea for you to call your foster parents today and let them know you’re alright. You can tell them you are staying on in India through the summer as my apprentice in the business, if you like.”
I nodded. I really did need to call them. Sarah and Mike were probably wondering if I’d been eaten by a tiger by now.
“I must also gather a few things from town that you will need to take with you on your journey to the cave. Please make yourself at home and rest. There is a luncheon and a dinner already prepared for you in the refrigerator. If you go for a swim, please wear sunscreen. It’s kept in a cabinet near the pool, next to the towels.”
Wandering back upstairs, I found my cell phone left on the dresser in my room.Nice of him to give it back after the jungle incident.I sat down in a gold velvety easy chair, called my foster parents, and had a long chat about the traffic, the food, and the people of India. When they asked about the tiger reserve, I evaded the question by saying that Ren was well taken care of. Mr. Kadam was right. The easiest way to explain my staying in India was that I was offered a position working as an intern for Mr. Kadam through the end of summer.
After I hung up with them, I located the laundry area and washed my clothes and my grandmother’s quilt. Then, having nothing else to do, I explored every part of the house. The entire basement was a fully appointed gym, but not with modern exercise equipment. The floor was covered with a black cushioned mat. It was a daylight basement, so half of the room was built underground in the hillside and the rest was open to the sunlight with large floor-to-ceiling windows. A sliding glass door opened to a large deck that led out to the jungle. The back wall was paneled and smooth.
There was a button pad by the door. I pushed the top button, and a section of paneling flipped out to reveal an assortment of ancient weapons such as axes, spears, and knives of various lengths hanging in specially made compartments. I pushed the button again and it flipped shut. I pushed the second button, and it flipped open another section of wall that contained swords. I moved closer to inspect them. There were many different styles ranging from thin rapiers to heavy broadswords and one that was specially encased in glass. It looked like a samurai sword that I’d seen once in a movie.
Wandering back up to the first floor, I found a high-tech home theater with a state-of-the-art media system and reclining leather seats. Right behind the kitchen was a formal banquet-style dining room with marble floors, crown molding, and a glittering chandelier. Off to the side of the peacock library, I discovered a music room with a shiny black grand piano and a large sound system with hundreds of compact discs. Most of them looked Indian, but I also found several American singers, including Elvis Presley. A very old, odd-shaped guitar was hung on the wall, and there was a curved black leather couch set in the middle of the room.
Mr. Kadam’s bedroom was also on the main floor, and his room looked a lot like the peacock room, full of polished wooden furniture and books. He also had a couple of beautiful paintings and a sunny reading area. On the third floor, I found an inviting loft. It had a small set of bookshelves and two comfy reading chairs and overlooked the sweeping stairway.
I also found another large bedroom, a bath, and a storage room. On my floor, I found three more bedrooms, not including mine. One was decorated in rose colors for a girl, which I thought might be for Nilima when she came to visit. The second appeared to be a guest room, but the colors were more masculine. Almost all of the rooms had private baths.
Stepping into the last room, I saw glass doors that led out to my veranda. The decoration of this room was plain in comparison to the others. The furniture was dark polished mahogany, but there were no details or knickknacks. The walls were plain and the drawers empty.
Is this where Ren sleeps?
Spotting a desk set in the corner, I approached it and saw thick, cream-colored paper and an ink well with an old-fashioned fountain pen. The top sheet had a note written in beautiful calligraphy.
Kelsey Durgaa Vallabh
Bhumi-ke-niche gupha
Rajakiya Mujulaain Mohar
Sandesha Durgaa
A green hair ribbon that looked suspiciously like one of mine lay next to the ink bottle. I peeked in the closet and found nothing—no clothes, no boxes, and no possessions.
I went back downstairs and spent the rest of the afternoon studying Indian culture, religion, and mythology. I waited until my stomach growled to eat dinner, hoping for some company. Mr. Kadam still hadn’t returned from the bank, and there’d been no sign of Ren.
After dinner, I went upstairs and found Ren standing on the veranda again, looking at the sunset. I approached him shyly and stood behind him. “Hello, Ren.”
He turned and openly studied my appearance. His gaze drifted ever so slowly down my body. The longer he looked, the wider his smile got. Eventually, his eyes worked their way back up to my bright red face.
He sighed and bowed deeply. “Sundari.I was standing here thinking nothing could be more beautiful than this sunset tonight, but I was mistaken. You standing here in the setting sun with your hair and skin aglow is almost more than a man can . . . fully appreciate.”
I tried to change the subject. “What doessundarimean?”
“It means ‘most beautiful.’”
I blushed again, which made him laugh. He took my hand, tucked it under his arm, and led me to the patio chairs. Just then, the sun dipped below the trees leaving its tangerine glow in the sky for just a few more moments.
We sat again, but this time he sat next to me on the swinging patio seat and kept my hand in his.
