She nodded, and the saint patted her head. She was hurled back on earth and found herself in her home. Her wings had disappeared; her sight had normal range, and her injuries had vanished. When she gazed at the spot where her husband was lying, she found him standing up and folding the shroud. She rushed to embrace him. He kissed her, rubbed his eyes, and asked, "Sheila, what's all this fuss?"

"You were hurt, and we were taking care of you."

"I was riding near the banyan tree. Something struck my head, and I passed out. I don't remember anything after that."

"Don't worry about it. How are you feeling now?"

"Fine, except for the sharp pain in my head."

She grabbed his hands. "Let's go to that banyan tree."

"Not now, I'm too tired to go anywhere," he moaned.

"I beg you. Do what I say, and I'll explain later. We can't waste a second; it's a question of life and death."

"Then let's move," he said.

Sheila and her husband slipped from the rear window and sprinted to the banyan tree.

"Let's explore the area under this tree," she suggested. With the help of a lantern, they searched the thick vegetation and found a skeleton. He noticed the cotton turban, dhoti, and the sacred thread and said, "This belongs to a Brahmin priest."

"I know that. Hurry up; let's stack it on that pyre."

"We shouldn't mess with the pyre, which is arranged for some other person," he yelled.

"Don't worry. Please just do what I say."

Sheila didn't want to tell her husband that this pyre had been arranged for him.

They enclosed the skeleton in a white sheet, which she had brought with her, and placed it over the woodpile. He located the priest of the cremation grounds, gave him one hundred rupees and asked him to perform the sacred rituals. The priest recited the Scripture, poured sacred water over the sheet, pushed Brahmin cow's butter in the mouth, and broke an earthen pot near the head. It was still dark, and the sun god was just trying to peep from behind the hills. The priest chanted a mantra and ignited the hay in the stacked wood. Flames, mixed with crackling sparks, shot out of the pyre, and she heard wailing and cussing in the twirling smoke. The Brahmin's spirit was battling the Yammas.

The chief and his wife returned from the temple with the priest. They didn't hear any sound inside the room and thought Sheila had fainted. The chief banged the door, but there was no response. Finally, they broke the door and were stunned to find no trace of Sheila or her husband's corpse, but the rear window was open.

"Let's rush to the cremation grounds. Sheila might be roasting my son's heart to enslave his spirit," the chief yelled.

The chief, his wife, the priest, and two other relatives ran to the cremation grounds. The chief saw the flames and shouted, "She's eating my son's heart. We must burn that witch."

When they came closer, they were amazed to find Sheila, Nathu, and a priest seated cross-legged with closed eyes near the fire.

The chief and his wife were stunned. They rubbed their eyes and dashed to hug their son and daughter-in-law.

Sheila looked up toward the sky and saw the saint flailing his arms. The four Yammas had strapped the Brahmin's spirit and were flying at full speed to their destination. She raised her folded hands toward the sky.

The group left the cremation grounds, returned to the village, and the dancing, singing, and merrymaking started.

At night, when they were alone, Nathu asked, "How did you learn about the skeleton?"

She had experienced an unbelievable phenomenon. It would be foolish for her to explain the whole thing; none would ever believe her. She smiled and said, "I dozed off while praying for you, and in my dream the Brahmin's spirit came to me and told me that it was sorry for hurting you. It begged me to end its misery by performing the proper cremation ritual. We've done the sacred services, and now I'm sure it will not hurt anybody."