you solve three riddles, then you can roll. But if you can’t, we trap your soul!”
I shivered. What choice had I but to agree? I remembered what Mati had said about making sure I got through the first two tests. And besides, having my soul trapped in a tree trunk and a ghost take over my body seemed like a real bummer of an option.
“Fine,” I said, keeping my back turned to the ghosts. “Three riddles and then you go!”
“Tell me, Princess, if you’re so dashed slick,” asked one of the nasal, ghostly voices. “What’s so delicate, even speaking its name will break it?”
This one was easy. I’d heard this riddle from Zuzu’s brother Niko a million times.
“What’s so delicate even saying its name destroys it?” I repeated. “Silence, of course. If you say its name, you break it.”
I heard the ladies grumbling, and consulting each other. “That was a practice one!” snarled someone.
“No,” I said reasonably, as if it was totally normal to be standing outside a palace arguing with a bunch of riddling ghosts all the while being filmed for intergalactic TV. “That was the first riddle, you have two more you can ask me.”
There was some more grumbling, and then some whispered discussion. I heard a ghost say, “That one! She’ll never get it since it’s in Bangla!” before her sisters shushed her again. And then another one of the ladies cackled in a louder voice, “Tell me, Kiranmala, and don’t you quibble, which kind of land has no people?”
I bit my lip. I didn’t know this one, but still it did sound strangely familiar. Along with stories about rakkhosh and serpents, Baba was always telling me riddles. Most of them were Bengali wordplays. For instance, he usually broke out one of his favorite riddles around Halloween, when he and Ma used to make me wear a sari and be an “Indian princess.”
“Tell me, Daughter, which shari isn’t worn?” he’d boom out, pronouncing he word sari the Bangla way.
The answer to that riddle was mawshari—or mosquito net. So, what land had no people? It must be a wordplay on the Bengali word for land—desh.
“I’ve got it!” An image came to mind of the sticky sweet homemade desserts Ma always made for trick-or-treaters. “Which desh has no people? Sandesh!”
“That was too easy!” shrieked one of the ghosts.
“No, it wasn’t!” I protested. “You have one more chance, and then I pass this test!”
There was more shuffling and whispering behind me, and for a moment, I couldn’t really see their reflections anymore and got seriously nervous.
I guess they’d decided to play fair, because another one of the ghosts cleared her voice and said, “I have arms but no legs or head to behold. My chest is open wide, and I swallow people whole.”
Oh, dratty drat pants, I hadn’t heard this one before either, and it seemed more complicated than either of the previous riddles. I took a big breath. Okay, calm down, Kiranmala. Think. Think.
“Your soul I will steal and in a tree conceal!” screamed one of the ghosts.
“Hold on to your petticoat! Give me a minute!” I yelled back. All I could think of was some kind of open-chested, headless rakkhosh, but that didn’t make sense. And it couldn’t be a snake because they had no arms or legs. Despite the cooling evening, I was starting to sweat. And I thought, randomly, how in New Jersey I would have been freezing cold, bundled in a giant winter jacket.
That’s when it struck me. “Wait, I know! What has arms but no legs or head, and it swallows people whole? It’s a coat!”
“No, the answer’s a shirt! You are wrong!” cackled a ghostly voice. “Your soul is ours, now come along!”
“Wait, it could be a shirt or a coat!” I shouted.
But they weren’t having it. “Come, Kiranmala, come to my tree!” “No, Princess, come with me!”
Of all the sneaky supernatural tricks, what was I going to do? I was all alone with these ghosts—who weren’t playing fair! Then I remembered that I wasn’t actually alone.
“Suman-da! Minister Gupshup!” I yelled to the air. I knew the anchor had told me not to break the fourth wall, but as Neel had said, I didn’t need to play by their rules. When no one answered, that’s when I remembered that Suman Rahaman and Gupshup weren’t the only ones who were watching.
“Hey, Sesha! Your ghosts don’t play fair! I got their riddle right and they want my soul!” I shouted in the direction of the