The Serpent's Secret (Kiranmala and the Kingdom Beyond #1)(68)
“Well, you sneak through wormholes all the time, don’t you?” I finally asked. “I mean, like, to see movies and stuff?”
Gah, would he think I was asking him out to a movie? Was I asking him out to a movie? I wanted to ask him out to a movie, I realized.
I mentally kicked myself. I’d made it through some pretty life-or-death situations recently, and yet, why was this one the most tricky to figure out?
Neel stared off at a weird angle behind my head, chewing a nail. “Yeah, yeah, I like to see movies, but mostly stuff you probably wouldn’t like. Old vampire flicks and science fiction, weird stuff.”
“No, I love that kind of thing,” I said quickly. Maybe too quickly.
“Oh, okay. Then I guess we’ll have to go see something really bloody and scary next time I’m over in your realm. Maybe something in 3-D.”
I grinned. “Is that a promise?”
Neel squirmed. So did I. We didn’t meet the other’s eyes.
“And maybe I can come visit, stay with Mati and her dad,” I said finally.
“Yeah, that would be great.”
“Bye, Demon Prince,” I said in a low voice.
“See ya around, Moon Girl,” Neel said before he turned around and walked away. As he did, I realized that he too was blushing.
The Serpent’s Secret is an original story that draws from many traditional folktales and children’s stories from West Bengal, India, which have been told by grandparents, parents, aunties, and uncles to generations of children. I’ve used many of these stories as a basis for inspiration while writing The Serpent’s Secret—and as a way to tell my own story as an immigrant daughter. In the same way that Kiran has to discover the land of her parents in order to really understand herself, I spent many summer vacations in Kolkata, India, getting to know not just my language and family, but getting immersed in Bengali cultural stories. My grandmothers and aunts would tell me these tales, usually before bed. My cousins and I would curl up together under the magical protection of a mosquito net, while the whirring overhead fan made the netting dance gently about us. In hearing these stories of talking birds, flying horses, brave princes, clever princesses, and evil rakkhoshi queens, I felt like I was entering an amazing new universe of imagination. When I was writing this novel, it only made sense to have Kiran return not to a real country, but to a place populated and inspired by these traditional stories themselves.
Thakurmar Jhuli and Rakkhosh Stories
Folktales involving rakkhosh are very popular in West Bengal, as they are in many parts of India. The word is sometimes spelled rakshasa in other parts of India, but in this book, it is spelled like the word sounds in Bengali. Folktales are of course an oral tradition, passed on verbally from one generation to the next, with each teller adding spice and nuance to their own version. In 1907, Dakshinaranjan Mitra Majumdar collected, wrote down, and published some classic Bengali folktales in a book called Thakurmar Jhuli (“Grandmother’s Satchel”), and the introduction to that book was written by Nobel laureate Rabindranath Tagore. This collection, which involves separate stories about the Princess Kiranmala and the brothers Neelkamal and Lalkamal, is also full of tales involving rakkhosh and khokkosh, as well as stories about the Kingdom of Serpents and the magical land of Maya Pahar. Pakkhiraj horses are plentiful in Thakurmar Jhuli, as are evil snakes, stupid kings, and peacock barges. The demon queen hungry for Lalkamal’s blood appears in the original Neelkamal and Lalkamal story, as does the lovably goofy rakkhoshi grandmother, Ai-Ma. Lalkamal and Neelkamal never meet Kiranmala in their original stories, but brave Kiranmala does have two brothers named Arun and Barun, whose lives she must save. A version of the Serpent King appears in this collection as well, although not exactly as he appears in this book. And the dumb khokkosh who get fooled into thinking Kiran and Neel are rakkhosh by a sword, some arrows, and an oil lamp? All inspired by Thakurmar Jhuli. Thakurmar Jhuli stories are still immensely popular in West Bengal and Bangladesh, and have inspired translations, films, television cartoons, comic books, and more. Rakkhosh are very popular as well—the demons everyone loves to hate—and appear not just in folk stories but also Hindu mythology. Images of bloodthirsty, long-fanged rakkhosh can be seen everywhere—even on the back of colorful Indian trucks, as a warning to other drivers not to tailgate or drive too fast!
Abol Tabol and Sukumar Ray
Sukumar Ray can be considered the Dr. Seuss or Lewis Caroll of the Bengali literary tradition. His illustrated book of nonsense rhymes, Abol Tabol, was first published in 1923, but like Thakurmar Jhuli, it is an evergreen Bengali children’s favorite. The character Mr. Madan Mohan in this book was inspired by two nonsense poems from Abol Tabol—the first about a man with a bizarre contraption on his back that dangles food in front of his face (“Khuror Kal”), and the second about an office worker who is convinced that someone has stolen his very hairy and very much present moustache (“Gopf Churi”). The snake-charming poem that Tuntuni recites, “Baburam Sapure” also appears in Abol Tabol. Two other characters in The Serpent’s Secret were also inspired by Sukumar Ray’s brilliant poems, that of the rhyming transit officer, who appears in a poem called “Bhoye Peo Na” (“Don’t be Afraid”), and Chhaya Devi, purveyor of shadows, who was inspired by a poem called “Chhaya Baji.”
Tuntuni