Just one sign.
One. Something.
Dad?
Tree?
Wasps?
Really?
Nothing?
Not even a crummy fruit?
Or the smell of jasmine?
Fine, abandon me, just like Dad did.
As the thought flitted into my mind, I felt myself slump. My usually slouched shoulders curved even more. It was sheer willpower that my legs hadn’t buckled. I wasn’t going to crumple in front of them.
I peeled my eyes from Tree and looked at the People. How had I ever thought they were cool, or hip, or even beautiful? They all now looked—not beastlike because creatures had beauty—unreal. They were straight out of the corners of the darkest imaginations of the worst minds.
“All right, I will tell you,” I said, slowly. I needed to stall for time until some idea or some help came to me.
Raina smiled triumphantly, a diagonal slit across her face. Samar looked startled for a second, but his face became impassive again.
“But I need to go to Tree, to touch them, to tell you.”
“Don’t listen to her,” Badal said. “It’s got to be a trick. They warned us about her.”
But Raina shook her head. “What’s that old tree gonna do? Whip us with a root? Can’t you see it’s still dying?”
Everyone cackled as Badal flushed. The circle parted, as if their thoughts were connected with each other.
It took all the strength I had to walk slowly towards Tree. I didn’t look at anyone, just straight at Tree. It felt like forever, but I finally reached them. Immediately, I felt suffused with strength, as if I was sitting by Dad. All wasn’t lost, and I felt a surge of hope, which was immediately followed by the thought that this was such a grandiose statement. I took a shaky breath and went to touch Tree, hoping they would show me a memory. Something, anything. Some way out of this ambush.
I closed my eyes.
The League of Extraordinary Uncles (no aunties in sight) were in a huge auditorium. Five of them were sitting on the stage, behind a table bedecked with a stained white satin cloth, fringed with maroon curtains. Each one was wearing a big satin badge, denoting their status as VIPs. Names were called out by a master of ceremonies from behind a podium on the right side of the stage. Tweenagers, teenagers, and young adults came up on the stage and received a pat on the back from the uncles.
It felt like an initiation of some sort. Behind them a big banner read, “Progress: Our Great Nephews and Nieces. They Are Our Eyes and Ears.”
Suddenly, it all made sense to me. An army of young people being greenwashed into believing that the only way to have a shiny future is for it to be one bereft of trees, of magic, of animals, of wasps, of fungi, of beings that weren’t like them. By being made to forget that we were just a small part of this world. All for Progress’s Sake. In the debate between economy and environment, for them, it was always only the economy. After all, money made the world go ’round, or at least their world. For the rest of us, the earth continued to spin, with its glaciers and deserts, forests, and reefs.
UGH. My mind needed to stop wandering.
Tree hadn’t shown me what to do next. What was I supposed to do with this knowledge? Wield it? Easier said than done. It wasn’t exactly a sword. Now would have been a great moment for Tree to send me a fruit that magically turned into a weapon. Come on! Do a Percy Jackson and Chiron on me, I begged.
That’s when I realized that even the nephews and nieces did not have any weapons. I opened my eyes slowly and turned to them.
“Well?” Mausam asked impatiently.
I didn’t quite know what to do. But just then, I heard a yell, “Wasps, now would be great!”
As if they had been waiting for a command, a swarm of wasps descended from Tree, not just from our Tree, but from the neighboring trees as well, and formed a protective bubble around me.
My mouth fell open, and I closed it hastily because I did not want to swallow a stinging friend. All the Very Cool and Hip People began shaking and shimmering. Were they dancing, like their uncles and aunties? Were they okay?
I watched in horror as my once-upon-a-time friends began sprouting feathers, their necks began to turn blue as if someone was choking them, their fancy sneakers turned into claws and their perfect noses elongated into beaks. In front of my eyes they turned into . . .
Pigeons. Giant rock pigeons. The ones we saw outside all our houses and, if they could find a way in, we’d see them inside too. The ones that were found everywhere—on windowsills and building tops, on parapets and balconies, on bathroom windows and in any holes, anywhere except trees. Those pooping, cooing pigeons. Only, each one of these was some seven feet in height and three feet broad. Their blue necks shone in the night, like radioactive beings, and their neon orange eyes stared blankly at me.
Honestly, if I had not been glued to the spot in fear, I might have burst out laughing. But they were terrifying. I felt grateful that I was protected from them by a wall of wasps.
The pigeons stood there for a heartbeat, and then they flapped their wings. I winced, but they didn’t fly. Instead, they began to hop towards me. Just like the pigeons in my building. No matter how much anyone ran towards them, they just chilled in their spots, hopping a few inches away.
I stepped back instinctively. That’s when I realized Samar had not transformed into a pigeon. He was still 100 percent human. At least, I hoped so, unless this was another trick of his. He stepped behind the wasp wall and said, “What’s up, Savi?”
Really? Really? What’s up? I wanted to give him one tight slap. Instead, I looked at the pigeons, they were now bobbing their heads up and down most excitedly. Winged rats, someone had once called them. And it was not as if Samar was any less of a rat. Why was he not a pigeon?
Just then the plague of pigeons moved in, as if to attack us, and the wasps advanced. They weaved and danced and turned into a giant crested serpent eagle. As one, they charged at the pigeons. I winced, expecting a loud crash which, of course, never came. Instead, the pigeons and the wasps began a deadly duel. The pigeons advanced, the wasps receded. The wasps advanced, buzzing angrily, and finally attacked the birds, stinging wherever they could find feathers.
I cried out as some wasps fell, but more joined their ranks, keeping the serpent eagle formation intact. The pigeons tried to peck them, sit on them, fly around them, poop on them, but nothing worked. Samar moved closer to me, I wanted to step away, but I was still glued to the spot. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him.
“Savi,” he whispered. “You’ve got to believe me, I am on your side.”
I kept staring at the fight in front of me, one that was all my fault. I had come here—why hadn’t I fought them or called the cops? Or just run away? Why had I thought cool and hip people would want to befriend someone like me? The purple frog on my heart pressed down even more as a shower of wasps rained down, squirming, gasping, dying. I wanted to gather each one in my arms and hold them tight, keep them safe. Tears rolled down my cheeks. I couldn’t bear it—not again.
I felt Samar put his hand over my shoulder. That’s when I realized it was him who had yelled and summoned the wasps. I was almost as angry at him for pushing the wasps into battle. It was his fault as well. But then, surprisingly, he leaned into me. I didn’t shake him off, and I really deserved a cookie for that. Where was Sana when you needed her? I realized I missed the Ents desperately.
“I am sorry,” he said softly. I realized he wasn’t talking to me, but to Tree and the carpet of dying wasps in front of us.
Then some things happened very fast.
A silvery green light emanated from Tree, just like that other night. The number of wasps doubled. A sound echoed from Tree. It was a keening sound, like an angry wail. It should have scared me, but it didn’t, because I knew it wasn’t for me. Or Samar. It wasn’t meant to harm us.
The wail echoed around the ground. The pigeons froze. Then, they exploded into a debris of feathers, beaks, and claws, leaving a poop-and-wasp-encrusted ground behind.
The sound stopped immediately. The light disappeared, like someone had turned a switch off.