The Chaos Curse (Kiranmala and the Kingdom Beyond #3) - Sayantani DasGupta Page 0,93

howling, protecting their eyes and ears from the brilliance too.

When Neel began to stir, Pinki sobbed in relief.

“I think he’s going to be okay!” I breathed.

Finally, with a huge inhale, Pinki swallowed it all once again. The planets. The galaxies. The magical storybook turned star. The black hole containing Sesha. All of it. And then she let out the most giant burp I have ever heard.

“Impressive, my gaseously gifted daughter!” said a wibbly-wobbly voice so familiar and dear I almost screamed with joy.

It was Ai-Ma, with her gangly limbs and three-toothed grin and galumphing walk and all her love and all her stories and all her wisdom. It was her. Neel’s grandmother—who was monster, goddess, crone, ancestress, teacher, and friend. It was her, but also not her. She was so transparent, we could see all of outer space through her form. She was so huge, her feet were like ships, her arms were like highways, and her head touched the sky.

“Mother!” cried Pinki. “The stories brought you back!”

“Not in the way you are thinking, my silly demon-drop of an evil daughter,” Ai-Ma cooed, holding her see-through hands above Pinki’s head in a blessing. “No, my silly-billy chitty-boo of a booger blossom! I am gone from this plane, but as long as you are all alive, my story is not ended.”

“You gave your life in that undersea detention center to save me, but I wish I could save you!” Pinki had tears streaming down her face, and I felt my own heart breaking at her sorrow. How could I have been so wrong about her? Some villains, like Sesha, choose not to change, but some, like Pinki, do.

“You already have saved me,” Ai-Ma called as she vanished more and more into the ether. Where her body had been was the gold and platinum stardust we had experienced down in the underwater hotel. The glittery rain fell all over us, and when it hit Neel’s face, he finally opened his eyes.

“Ai-Ma?” he said, his eyes uncertainly straining toward the spot where the dear rakkhoshi had just been.

“Live in joy, my toadstool baby bats! Sing your varied stories, my dung-covered lily pads!” Ai-Ma’s disembodied voice crooned from the darkness. “And tell of me, and how much I loved you, to all who want to hear!”

And so we would. To tell her story was to tell our own. We would tell it, and add to it, and let it nourish us forever.

Even though the wedding was called off, the second sangeet was a huge success. The groom wasn’t present, but the entire Kingdom Beyond decided to have a giant song-and-dance performance in the royal palace square. The Raja had returned from exile and was now gathered on the dais to watch the performances with his four sons: Lal and Neel, Buddhu and Bhootoom. To the other side of the dais sat Mati, Naya, and a lot of the PSS crew.

As a surprise, Neel sent Bunty as well as the pakkhiraj horses Snowy and Raat to go get my parents, Jovi, and Zuzu from the right version of New Jersey and bring them to the festivities. Ma arrived in her second-best sari—since she’d brought her wedding sari for me to wear. She’d also dressed the real Jovi and Zuzu in full lehenga choli and Indian jewelry. Baba was elegant in his pajama-panjabi.

“How’s the store?” I asked Ma as she helped me pleat and pin my outfit.

“The store? Oh, it’s wonderful, my little piece of the moon, my princess, my darling,” Ma replied. “We will have to all go back soon to help your father with the inventory.” I was relieved to see her hair was in its usual impeccable bouffant bun. She waggled her eyebrows at me. “Now, you tell me about that handsome Neelkamal!”

When I saw Baba, he gave me a huge bear hug and wiped away his own tears on my hair. Finally, he let me go enough to look weepily at me. “You’re looking tired, darling. Have you been eating enough fiber? Are your bowels regular?”

In the past, I would have been furious at my parents for being so embarrassingly loving, so ridiculously themselves all the time. But I’d learned to appreciate all their strangenesses. They might be weirdos, but they were my weirdos, after all.

With Jovi and Zuzu, it was a little bit harder. “I had to explain to Jovi about everything, who you are, where you’re from,” said Zuzu, pulling me aside. The bright blue lehenga choli Ma had put