Chapter 1

Asha couldn't forget the last letter her father left her before they hung him. This was the letter,

Asha,

I will die soon and I couldn't accept this fate, but I denied a chance to ask for any outside help. I believe they manipulated the judge and gave me an untimely death. Please believe me. I didn't kill the good magistrate. I don't know where you are, but I hope you're safe. Hoping this letter reaches you. I still want to be with you, but I don't have any other way to prove my innocence. Thus, I'll face this bravely. Never think your father is a coward.

I know life would be hard for you, but I don't want you to think you're alone. Get my recipe book within the tree that clung at the wall of our house. There's a big root that entered our house and you'll find a hole in the lower part of the root. Inside, you can find the book and some cash I stash away as your university fund. Use that money and start a new life. Believe in yourself, you're an excellent cook and better than me. With my recipe book, I'm with you always.

I love you more than anything else in this world.

Baba

The day he died was November 19, 1943.

. . . . .

In December 1945, the rooster was still fast asleep, yet Asha was soaking wet from her toes to her chest. The chilly air combined with the freezing water made her steps stiff. She wished to leave the river but needed a clam living under the mangrove trees, which only came out when the sun was still down. This was the last ingredient she needed for the recipe for the cooking competition tomorrow.

"I must find this thing. Oh, Baba and Ma, guide me."

She walked from one mangrove tree to the next. Mud clung on her clothes, weighing her down, making her every step harder. Palms and feet wrinkled and white but disregarded them. Her body shook because of the winter air. Unexpectedly, she stepped on a hole and her entire body submerged. She held her breath underwater as she tried to find her footing.

Suddenly, her feet felt a rough surface on the muddy riverbed. With one hand, she hurriedly reached down, felt the object, and pulled it without hesitation. She stood right away and came out of the water feeling victorious.

She gasped for air with an enormous smile on her face. "Alas, the clam. Hahaha, thank you, Baba and Ma for your guidance." Asha lifted the thing high on her head and saw the pinkish-white shell under a muddy surface. She cleansed the palm-size object and inserted it in the wrapped shawl, like a belt, around her waist.

It took for shivering Asha ten minutes to cross five meters before she was on dry land. She went straight to a small store owned by a friend who lent the bathroom with the prepared hot water for her. A hearty breakfast of flatbread, omelet with chili, and hot tea waited at the table when she came out. She didn't hesitate and sat to eat.

Jibon offered to hang her wet clothes on a tree near his diner and sat opposite her. "Asha, are you sure you can redeem your father's name after this trouble or you're just looking for problems?" 

She bit the bread to her mouth fast enough that her face bulged and couldn't say a word.  Grabbing the teacup, she sipped the tea and swallowed everything in her mouth in one gulp.

"Probably," she shrugged, "but honestly, no idea if it'll work or not."

Jibon reached out and flicked her forehead. "Silly girl, don't you think such kind of reasoning is so lame?"

"Ish! That hurts." She rubbed her forehead and pouted. "Probably, but I couldn't think of a better way than this. At least, I'll try.  Anyway, thanks for the food and the bath. I'll pay you later." She waved her hand as she covered her head and face, as customs dictated, then headed out.

"Just cook for me. I'll be glad to eat your delicious food." He added as he watched her back. He sighed and whispered. "I hope you'll be fine."

Asha walked to her hanging clothes on the tree branch and tried to get it but couldn’t reach it. She felt frustrated every minute with the men watching behind her. Jibon saw her difficulty and apologized for not thinking of her height. He was about to help her when a man came near, a foot and a half taller than her, and pulled on the clothes.

Asha bashed for her four feet and half height. "Thank you, kind Sir," she said with a bowed head.

"Little girl, eat more vegetables and drink more milk so you'll grow fast," the man said as a kind reminder.

Jibon laughed out loud when he heard the man's statement but received a glare from Asha, shutting him in a breath’s time.

"Humph, I'm a full-grown woman of 18 years," she said, whipping her head away and leaving with her clothes on her arms.

"Ah, oh my, sorry, miss. Didn't know." Men eating in the diner laughed hard with the drama played in front of them. "I don't mean to be rude," followed the man while scratching the nonexistent itch on his head. The harder the men laughed after seeing his reaction.

Asha sighed and didn’t dare to listen more, but continued to walk. Annoyance set in but accepted the fact that she lacked the tallness she wanted. As she arrived at her house, she went straight to the kitchen and placed the clam in a bowl of water. "This will keep you safe until tomorrow."

Asha opened his father's recipe book, then read the recipe she chose for tomorrow's competition for the fifteenth time. According to the recipe, she needed a fish, turmeric, dried chili, fresh cilantro, coconut milk, ginger, garlic, onion, lemongrass, and the hard one to find, the clam.

This was the same recipe that made her father win as the best chef in their village. Unfortunately, the same dish accused him of food poisoning the magistrate.

Asha believed that by letting the judges eat the same food and saw themselves unharmed, she could ask them as witnesses to the court to make her father deemed as innocent. She thought this could help clear her father's name even though he was already dead and stop certain people from naming her as the murderer's child. Unfortunately, she was too ignorant to realize it won't be that easy.

She looked at her cash for her university. Just enough to keep her alive for a year. "Oh, Baba, what must I do? I still need to go to university, but some people are bad-mouthing you and me. I must join the competition tomorrow. I'm sorry if you don't agree and please help me."

Her heart was heavy as she reminisced about those days when her father was alive. "God, why did you take my father away? Why are bad people still alive?" Tears gushed out and her body convulsed for quite some time. "Baba, Ma, I missed you."

She breathed deep and wiped her face. "I have to move on." She put the money back in its hiding place, a hole under her bed covered by a large rag. A big chest of clothes settled on top of it.

"I can't spend much. What will I do?" She looked up with her wet eyes. "Baba, help me win tomorrow." A tear fell unhindered. She brushed it off with the back of her hand. "No time for crying more. Better head to work or else Mukti will get angry at me."

She pulled a bag from under her bed and left in a dash, forgetting she left the bowl uncovered.