A shrill wail stabbed the air and the drought that had plagued the town for countless months was briefly forgotten. Attentive sisters, cousins, and aunts comforted the young mother with waves of encouragement and compliments--oblivious to the fact that what imbed the bed cloths was flood flowing from her womb.

She panted and smiled with triumph, despite the bitter taste of sweat on her lips. Too weak to utter a word, she stretched out her arms for her baby. He stared at her with blank eyes -pale blue as all newborns have. His mind was an empty canvas that was ready for strokes of paint to be smeared across its vastness. Tears ran down Mina’s cheeks from joy as she buried her face into his tender skin. 

The impatient mid-wife ripped the child away from his mother. 

"Don’t grow attached! You know very well that his father will reject him! Look!" she yelled sternly and pointed at the infant’s withered leg. 

"He’s beautiful and he’s mine! His deformity makes no difference," said Mina, her voice hoarse but defiant. 

"Mina," whispered a cousin gently,"He’ll never amount to anything. Besides, he’ll lead a deprived life- can’t play Cricket with the other boys when he’s older or dance at festivals... he’d be better off dead." 

Mina mustered up her strength to say," You were born with a crooked foot... turned outwards..." 

The others gasped, but were eager to obtain the gossip and leaned forward. 

"...yet your father spared you, Janu." 

Not even the birds in the jute trees dared to speak. 

Janu was speechless and burned red from anger. She stormed out of the room, tugging the hem of her robe to further conceal what she had been carefully hiding for years. A wise and terse aunt shattered the silence. 

"Bundle him tightly- his defect will only thrive in the folds of this blanket. Only we will know." 

The women nodded and exchanged glances of affirmation. A cousin wrapped the boy quickly, and then presented him to the anxious father pacing outside the door. 

His eyes lit up with happiness and pride. Mina’s cousin felt guilt saturating her mind and her heart’s beating filled her ears. Her voice slithered like a cobra, struggling to escape her throat. She nearly choked on the venomous lie but reluctantly released it. "A healthy son, Ramish." 

He beamed and cuddled his boy. 

"My son," he cooed. 

The infant whimpered and fell into a fit of coughs- the oxygen having difficulty making the excursion to his tiny lungs. 

Suddenly the room trembled. Items crashed and shards of pottery carpeted the floor. Massive tusks protruded from the wall and trumpeting came from the distance. Women scrambled from the bedroom, dragging Mina by her arms. 

"Out! Get out!" shouted Mina’s husband. The women dispersed and ran out of the hut into the awaiting jungle. They huddled under a tree and watched Ramish get trampled to death. 

Those ten minutes lasted an eternity. An old and frail aunt rose to her feet and muttered, "Perhaps it is over. All of them gingerly emerged from the jungle to where the hut once stood. 

"He’s gone", Mina said and began to cry. She clenched earth in her hands and wept. Clouds began to blanket the sky. Pit, pat. Pitter, pat. Just then it rained because every angel in Heaven felt Mina’s sorrow. 

Two days afterward, one of Mina’s sisters and her mother gathered water from the river. 

"I made him this," said Mina’s sister, rubbing the ivory charm and showed it to her mother. 

"To keep the evil spirits away?" 

"No... his father’s ghost." She tied the little elephant to the infant’s ankle and lovingly called him Elephant Child. 

Meanwhile, the others in the village were searching for Ramish’s body. With no luck, they decided to melt the remnants of the hut and mold bricks out of the substance to rebuild the hut. It was only a day’s worth of work. 

Mina could not sleep that night as she hadn’t for many nights. Her hair was plastered to her pillow with sweat and her sleeping gown clung to her legs. She peeled her sheets off so she could go pour a glass of water. A strange coldness swept the room. 

"Mina... Mina... Mina...", came a haunting voice. 

She perked up but shrugged and continued to grope her way in the dark. 

"Mina... you lied..." 

She slipped into her bed, regarding it as a figment of her imagination but noticed her bed was damp. She wiped the sticky substance off of her leg. 

"Blood!" she gasped. 

She tore the sheet off of the bed and replaced it with a new one. Drip... drip... drip... She shrieked when she discovered that blood was leaking from the ceiling. 

"Mina... your son will become an Untouchable if he does not leave now," came the voice again.

"Stop!" she screamed," Leave me alone! Stay away from my son!" 

She rushed to her son’s cradle... but he was gone. His ivory trinket was on the floor and an elephant’s call came from afar.