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CHAPTER ONE
Amita was trying to juggle, but she felt that her hands were stiff. Something was very wrong. Amita the Juggler caught her reflection in the mirror. The juggler’s heart was pounding like crazy. Her mind refused to believe it. A wooden doll in a bright sari stared at her from the mirror. The girl cried in horror. “What has happened to me? Who am I? A doll?”
The juggler stomped her feet in an attempt to distract herself from the image she saw.
“Don’t panic. I can still think, talk, and walk. Not bad! Under these circumstances. I have to remember every moment of the previous days that led up to this moment.”
Her mind was muddy water, and one idea splashed up from it, clear and exclusive. “I shouldn’t have eaten so many gulab jamuns at the party! They did taste weird! I felt dizzy and sleepy after the treat. Oh, but those soft spongy flour and milk balls, fried and soaked in syrup, were so sweet. So wickedly irresistible!” Amita’s thoughts were confused; her mind hummed. The girl flinched as she heard someone knock on the door. She asked with caution, “Who is it?”
“It’s me. Barry the Parrot.”
“Come on in,” the girl said, “but you have to swear not to tell anyone about what happened to me.”
“You have my word.” Barry replied and snapped the door open. He stared at her with undisguised amazement.
“Well, you’re amazing as ever, but I won’t deny that you look a little bit different,” the parrot added with caution.
“I know I look weird. But I can’t imagine who did it to me and why. My body is stiff; my thoughts are mixed up.”
“Don’t give up. I’ll find out. That’s what friends are for!”
CHAPTER TWO
“I’m normally not a morning person – in fact, I hate mornings and don’t really want to talk to anyone,” Krish the Peacock whooped.
“Really? Why? Mornings are bliss – quiet and cool; the traffic is light, and the rickshaws are running like fine-tuned machines. I love India in the mornings more than ever!” Raja the Chipmunk said, sipping his masala tea. “It’s the best time to drive a rickshaw on dusty roads.”
Krish was somber and asked, “Where’s Barry the Parrot?”
“I’ll find him, eventually, but I doubt he’ll be much help.”
“Why not? He speaks Hindi. None of us can.”
“You’re right. We should interrogate the locals. They might have seen Donut the Elephant. Let’s go!”
“Don’t rush me. You know, my shoulder’s still sore from when that crazy chimp hit me with a stone.”
“Sorry, that was my fault. I had to warn you that the chimp was dangerous. I’m not good enough to be your partner.”
“Are you kidding? You’re the best I’ve ever worked with.”
“That’s good to hear, and encouraging! Let’s get back to work then! And you won’t have time to get all weepy over a couple of scars. We’ve got a big case. Big as an elephant. I mean the mysterious disappearance of Donut the Elephant in the Jaipur Circus. No witnesses or clues. The elephant has been missing for six hours.”
“How could a gigantic elephant disappear?”
“Precisely. Odd, or what?”
“To tell the truth, I’m worried.”
“It seems we’re going to deal with a kidnapping.”
The circus was overcrowded. That was the time of the performance. Acrobats, clowns, jugglers, conjurers, mimes, and rope-walkers scurried back and forth.
“We must find Donut’s dressing room,” Krish assumed.
“I think it won’t be very hard. His dressing room should be the biggest in the circus!” Raja smiled. He saw a pony with a braded mane and asked him, “Where is Donut’s room?”
“Over there. Just turn around the corner and you’ll see it on your left,” the pony replied, and galloped away.
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