The Magic Store of Nu-Cham Vu by Shreekumar Varma

Author:Shreekumar Varma [Varma, Shreekumar]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9788184758306
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2012-12-27T00:00:00+00:00

There was peace and quiet in the village for a week. But then …

One fine day, Anchan Bay woke up to some exciting gossip from the milkman and newspaper boy. The Shandilyan family had gone! Lock, stock and barrel. Vanished! There was nothing left in their house. ‘I had to bring back my milk,’ said the milkman ruefully. ‘I couldn’t deliver the Bee,’ said the newspaper boy. The Horse-Cab Man said he hadn’t taken anyone anywhere. So how did they leave with all their things? Perhaps Shandilyan had gone to Chavadi and arranged for another vehicle to transport him, his taller wife and two children with all their belongings out of the village. Their house was located far away, so they could have gone round the village to the Northeast Road, and no one would have been the wiser.

‘What about the—-’

‘His equipment? Gone! Are you stupid? Why do you think he disappeared?’

Anyway, Anchan Bay didn’t become the very first village in the world to have electricity. And I think many in the village blamed my grandfather for that. Anchan Bay’s children were devastated. They’d gone and lost the chance to own a host of fascinating new Power Toys. And they, I’m afraid, blamed Charchovi and her four friends for foiling the creature’s plans.

Nu-Cham-Vu became even more bitter towards the villagers.

‘Never! Six-ninety-nine and a three-quarter square! To the Power of nothing, nothing, Nothing!’ yelled Nu-Cham-Vu. The Jasmine Doll stuttered, too disturbed to translate. Empty floating clouds came from her mouth, heralding a golden silence.

The Honest Babble-Bird was well looked after by Chhapu and his family. They promised him that he’d never again have to go through the cycle of being sold and resold.

At school, Charchovi came first in the three-hundred-metre race. Her sports teacher commented, ‘There’s a lot of rage in her running nowadays!’

Near the empty ex-residence of Prof. Shandilyan, people were often bewildered by a weird tap-tapping, crash-crashing sound. The batty spy-bat was still trying to find its bearings, hoping it wouldn’t bump into its midget Master and that girl magician!

When dusk fell on the street, the lamp-lighter’s song rang out: ‘Light above and light below …’ It continued for many, many, many more years.

Until electricity finally found its way into the village.

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