One of life’s most beautiful experiences is to see kids growing up. And no, I am not talking about the years long process of seeing kids go from kids to teens and then mature adults. I am talking about the moments when you see them come of age – the moments when they wizen up. Perhaps it’s something they say, something they see, something they do, a decision they make – it could be anything. And it is then that you see them grow up in that one moment. You see them in that instant and you know that they now understand; you know that they have now matured just that little bit more. It’s not that anything changes about them – nothing in real physical sense, at least. You just sense it, you sense the moment, and it warms your heart. And this is exactly the feeling you will have when you finish this classic by Lee Harper. You will have a warm smile on your face when you will put down – ‘To kill a mockingbird’.
We never got to read another book from Miss Harper Lee and that’s a pity. But, if you wanted to publish only one of your works, then you would want it to be ‘To kill a mockingbird’ – every time. It is one of the best – if not the best – coming of age stories you will ever read or ever see. Many people believe this book is more about racism – which was of course the relevant topic in those days when it was published. I don’t know what Miss Harper had in mind while writing it, but to me it is more about growing up than about racism. Racism along with many other prevalent issues forms just a backdrop to this process. And we view all these issues from the eyes of young Jean Louis Finch (known through the book as Scout) – this book is essentially a description of her world as she grows up, gets out and learns about life.
It is this learning process that so endears us to her and to her world. We start off the journey from her early childhood and the legend of Boo Radley. And from there we ride along with Scout as she learns about the importance of having a good family; through her first years in school; through the usual childhood frustrations about unfair elders; through her ordeal when her aunt makes a determined effort to turn her into a lady; through her times of trying to understand her brother and last but not the least; through her experience of the extreme prejudicial nature of people’s psyche. Her brother – Jeremy Atticus Finch (Jem) – and a friend – Charles Baker Harris (Dill) – are her constant companions along the way. And this book, along with its young protagonists, manages to teach us mature adults a thing or two about integrity, courage and compassion.
Through this review, I might be guilty of portraying this novel as a little preachy. But, rest assured, it is anything but. I have never been fond of novels or movies which have to hammer home the point they want to make. For me, it is – the subtler the better. And this book is all that. It never tells us the importance of having a good family; it never tells us to stand up for the poor and the needy; it never tells us to treat people with respect and it never tells us to get rid of our prejudices and bias towards them, yet we end up learning all of this. So, where does the secret lie? The secret lies in its author’s acute observation of the people around her and her ability to pen them down simply yet effectively. And her gift of creating great moments. And Atticus Finch.
This novel has been adapted into a full length feature film. And the character of Atticus Finch – played by Gregory Peck – has been voted by AFI (American Film Institute) as the greatest hero in American Film. And somehow I thought they couldn’t do justice to the character in the film! That’s how good Atticus Finch is. His character is the perfect embodiment of this novel – in the sense that he never tells his children what to do and what not to do. He lets them be and lets them learn on their own. Of course, he is always there for advice and comfort, but only when they ask for it. Everything he teaches them is through his actions only. He is an intelligent man with good legal acumen. He is a tireless crusader for good causes and seems like one of very few people around with an open mind. And through his actions he takes great pains to teach his children to keep an open mind, too – free of prejudice and free of bias. He tells Scout, in what is one of many quotable quotes in the book, “If you can learn a simple trick, Scout, you'll get along a lot better with all kinds of folks. You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view, until you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it”.
A major part of the book centers on Atticus’ troubles while defending a black man for the rape of a white girl. He knows that he is fighting a lost cause. He knows that he and his family will face lots of difficulties and that they do. He and his children face insults and threats of physical violence from townspeople. Yet, he never gets flustered nor does he lose his cool. He also tells Scout and Jem to maintain their calm in the face of all provocation. Even in the face of all these hardships, he never gives up on his efforts for the acquittal of the accused. He doesn’t want his children to witness the trial – because he fears they will lose their faith in justice and more importantly, he doesn’t want their minds affected by people’s racial hatred and prejudice. By doing so he sets a strong moral example for his children. I have never been to America, but from what I have read about Atticus Finch, I gather that he has had a profound and lasting impact on the legal profession in the country. He is considered to be equivalent of a moral code to be followed by all the lawyers. He is revered by the legal circles in America. Notice how I am talking about him as if he is a real person? That’s how much of an impact he has made. In fact Michigan Law Review observed, "No real-life lawyer has done more for the self-image or public perception of the legal profession” (courtesy Wikipedia).
Miss Lee’s observations about different people and their customs come to the fore through another teacher figure in the form of Calpurnia. She is a black housekeeper hired by the Finch family. She is instrumental in teaching Scout about manners and different customs of folks. The respect that she has for Atticus becomes just another indicator of Atticus’ character and his standing in black people of the city. She is the feminine presence in the lives of motherless children.
And now regarding the great moments that Miss Lee manages to create – there are many of those interspersed through the novel, but some stand out still. The most iconic of these is the scene when Atticus decides to spend the night guarding Tom Robinson – the black man he is defending – from the townspeople intent on killing him. These men don’t want to hurt Atticus but Atticus refuses to budge. As Atticus stands alone to face this group of violent men, the tension Miss Lee builds up is just fantastic. The whole court room sequence also stands out. It feels authentic and believable, so much so, that it could have been a part of any dedicated court room drama. And the moment in the climax, as I have mentioned right at the start of this review, is one of the most heartwarming moments you will ever read in literature.
As a book, it is paced leisurely but I dare you to say you were bored while reading any of it. The characterization, which I have described in detail, is flawless. As this is a coming of age story, we get that wonderful experience of watching the characters grow, of watching them become who they eventually become. In addition to the main cast of characters, there are others, too, whom you will undoubtedly love. And as you might have guessed, the narrative engaged this reviewer emotionally at many levels and again I am sure you will undoubtedly have the same experience.
For the record, I didn’t even try to find any flaws. And even if I had, I am sure they would have been minimal if not nonexistent. And even in case of former they are inconsequential for this book is all that you can ask of a book.
In my own humble ways, I have been able to read many works of fiction across genres. Some of the books I have had the privilege of reading were thrilling, some were laughing out loud humorous, some were very originally creative and imaginative, some were very informative, some were lovely, some were warmly feel good and some were just simply awesome. But I have not read any other book which was truly beautiful – in every sense of the word. This is that one book I cannot stop gushing about and telling people how very beautiful it is. This book is a guide to set our moral compass with. It has made a huge impact in its time in the racially divided America. And its beauty lies in the way it teaches us the simplest things in life. It teaches us,
“Mockingbirds don't do one thing but make music for us to enjoy. They don't eat up people's gardens, don't nest in corncribs, they don't do one thing but sing their hearts out for us. That's why it's a sin to kill a mockingbird.”
If you are still waiting to read my recommendation, you are wasting your time. You should have already been buying yourself a copy to add to your classics collection.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Book Review - Fear is the key
When you are 15 years old and starting up on your reading of English, what will you start with? The likes of Hardy Boys and the Famous Five are for younger kids and the adventures of Huckleburry Finns and Tom Sawyers are a little too unrealistic to appeal to you. Howard Roark is too complicated to understand and you are too young to laugh on Yossarian’s catch. You probably want something smart and pacy to hold your attention. You probably want a James Bond like protagonist triumphing over all the odds and taking home the prize. While Perry Mason seems the obvious choice at this point in time, one has to admit it does become a little repetitive. And so it all comes down to John Talbots and Keith Mallorys of Alistair MacLean.
Long before Hollywood came to like Michael Crichton, Alistair MacLean was its author of choice. He wrote novels that were brimming with thrilling action and moved forward at breakneck speed. He penned characters that were infallible and heroic in their deeds and they were always pitted against worthy opponents. And though the characters mentioned above are not the stuff that makes legends in English fiction, they – along with the author who created them – have been a big part of the great reading experience I had while growing up. So, it seemed apt for me to start writing this series of reviews by reviewing one of my first and one of my favourite novels by an author who seldom fails to entertain. And that novel is – ‘Fear is the key’.
‘Fear is the key’ is a typical Alistair MacLean novel. It is – as I have mentioned up front – a thrill a minute ride with plenty of action and twists to keep your mind occupied. In that way it is like many other thrillers that you will read. What really sets it apart though – which is also the case with other best MacLean novels – is the sarcastic humour and a touch of emotion. The narrative is gripping and will make avid thriller readers read on till they finish. When you have all these things in place all that remains is a good, believable and intelligent story.
And the story is all that. Let’s summarise it then – this is a story of a lost treasure and a band of goons going after it. But, it’s not that simple of course. The treasure is submerged in a deep chasm in the ocean bed and what the goons need is a salvage expert to drag it up for them. And lo, they find one right in the neighbourhood. He is John Talbot – an expert in deep sea diving and underwater salvage. He is wanted by law for multiple homicides and due to his uniquely and readily identifiable traits finds it difficult to hide from its long hands. He doesn’t want to get involved with this bunch of very dangerous guys. But he seems to have run out of options. The bad guys know all about him and will not think twice before handing him over to the authorities – or better still, before killing him. Things couldn’t be rosier for the bad guys, you would think. But then again, things aren’t quite the way they seem. Thrown in the mix are an oil baron worth many a million dollars, his beautiful daughter, her chauffer cum bodyguard – who is unmistakably English – and a corrupt ex cop. And what you have is a pot boiler which promises to be as exhilarating as a treasure hunt.
Mr.MacLean’s attention to technical detail is commendable and can be appreciated even by those who have only the basic grasp of Physics. And the good thing is as easily explained as all the facets about the salvage vessel are, they are not dumbed down. The action sequences – and there are plenty – are well detailed and lengthy, so much so that one feels exhausted at the end of each, and not because one is tired of reading on but because one feels a part of it. On occasions Mr.MacLean uses detailed descriptions to send a chill down our spine. If the idea of having a soft nosed bullet put into your hip bone or how a 3 year old will spend his last moments before drowning is not enough to make you wince, just read how Mr. MacLean describes it in painful detail and you will – at least.
For such novels – which rely on thrills and spills – characterization often becomes secondary. And one can see that Mr. MacLean doesn’t worry unduly about building his characters up; not that he doesn’t tell us anything about them, but most of it is inferred rather than explained. We only hear that bad guys did terrible things, but they don’t really mean anything to us. We are supposed to hold the killers in fear, but we don’t. The only character that ever gets built up – and that is because of the first person narrative used – is that of John Talbot. In John Talbot we have a protagonist who is formidable and yet manages to convey a sense of vulnerability which means as a reader it is easier for us to be concerned about him. It is only because of his character that we connect to the novel at any emotional level at all. The only other drawback I can think of is that probably the support cast is a little too clever, and that’s about it really.
This novel is like a summer blockbuster. It will probably score less with the critics but it will do a lot better with the fans. Just like a summer blockbuster, if you are a newbie and have just started out, it will stay with you the longest. And when you grow up to become a learned veteran and start enjoying the classics more, you might just keep coming back to it for that rare guilty pleasure.
My recommendation – if you haven’t guessed already – is to get yourself a copy and start reading.
Long before Hollywood came to like Michael Crichton, Alistair MacLean was its author of choice. He wrote novels that were brimming with thrilling action and moved forward at breakneck speed. He penned characters that were infallible and heroic in their deeds and they were always pitted against worthy opponents. And though the characters mentioned above are not the stuff that makes legends in English fiction, they – along with the author who created them – have been a big part of the great reading experience I had while growing up. So, it seemed apt for me to start writing this series of reviews by reviewing one of my first and one of my favourite novels by an author who seldom fails to entertain. And that novel is – ‘Fear is the key’.
‘Fear is the key’ is a typical Alistair MacLean novel. It is – as I have mentioned up front – a thrill a minute ride with plenty of action and twists to keep your mind occupied. In that way it is like many other thrillers that you will read. What really sets it apart though – which is also the case with other best MacLean novels – is the sarcastic humour and a touch of emotion. The narrative is gripping and will make avid thriller readers read on till they finish. When you have all these things in place all that remains is a good, believable and intelligent story.
And the story is all that. Let’s summarise it then – this is a story of a lost treasure and a band of goons going after it. But, it’s not that simple of course. The treasure is submerged in a deep chasm in the ocean bed and what the goons need is a salvage expert to drag it up for them. And lo, they find one right in the neighbourhood. He is John Talbot – an expert in deep sea diving and underwater salvage. He is wanted by law for multiple homicides and due to his uniquely and readily identifiable traits finds it difficult to hide from its long hands. He doesn’t want to get involved with this bunch of very dangerous guys. But he seems to have run out of options. The bad guys know all about him and will not think twice before handing him over to the authorities – or better still, before killing him. Things couldn’t be rosier for the bad guys, you would think. But then again, things aren’t quite the way they seem. Thrown in the mix are an oil baron worth many a million dollars, his beautiful daughter, her chauffer cum bodyguard – who is unmistakably English – and a corrupt ex cop. And what you have is a pot boiler which promises to be as exhilarating as a treasure hunt.
Mr.MacLean’s attention to technical detail is commendable and can be appreciated even by those who have only the basic grasp of Physics. And the good thing is as easily explained as all the facets about the salvage vessel are, they are not dumbed down. The action sequences – and there are plenty – are well detailed and lengthy, so much so that one feels exhausted at the end of each, and not because one is tired of reading on but because one feels a part of it. On occasions Mr.MacLean uses detailed descriptions to send a chill down our spine. If the idea of having a soft nosed bullet put into your hip bone or how a 3 year old will spend his last moments before drowning is not enough to make you wince, just read how Mr. MacLean describes it in painful detail and you will – at least.
For such novels – which rely on thrills and spills – characterization often becomes secondary. And one can see that Mr. MacLean doesn’t worry unduly about building his characters up; not that he doesn’t tell us anything about them, but most of it is inferred rather than explained. We only hear that bad guys did terrible things, but they don’t really mean anything to us. We are supposed to hold the killers in fear, but we don’t. The only character that ever gets built up – and that is because of the first person narrative used – is that of John Talbot. In John Talbot we have a protagonist who is formidable and yet manages to convey a sense of vulnerability which means as a reader it is easier for us to be concerned about him. It is only because of his character that we connect to the novel at any emotional level at all. The only other drawback I can think of is that probably the support cast is a little too clever, and that’s about it really.
This novel is like a summer blockbuster. It will probably score less with the critics but it will do a lot better with the fans. Just like a summer blockbuster, if you are a newbie and have just started out, it will stay with you the longest. And when you grow up to become a learned veteran and start enjoying the classics more, you might just keep coming back to it for that rare guilty pleasure.
My recommendation – if you haven’t guessed already – is to get yourself a copy and start reading.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
ATTJC - Chapter 1
As soon as I entered the village, people started looking at me uncertainly and incredulously. Most of them looked on from the comparative safety of their homes. They were incredulous probably because they didn’t expect a visitor – a stranger – to their village in such times. As I dropped the bag I was carrying on the ground, I looked around to see if I could find somebody to ask for directions. The few people who were outside their homes averted themselves as soon as I looked at them. It was a hot summer’s day and the heat and the long journey had tired me out completely. Also, due to the constant vigilance required during the journey, my nerves were a bit on the edge. I stood where I was for a while wondering what to do. As I was about to walk up to a man and confront him, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned around quickly with my hands on my rifle to find a man, who looked like the local priest from his attire – a saffron dhoti and a yellow cloth with religious writings draped over shoulders – hurrying towards me. I relaxed and took my hand off the rifle.
“I see that people from the village have forgotten their manners and common courtesy. But, I pray you forgive them for these are turbulent times – something of which you don’t seem to be unaware of.” He said in a loud booming voice as he came up to me. His face, most of which was hidden behind a long white beard, was deeply etched with wrinkles. It wore a smile and was calm and peaceful.
“No, it is absolutely all right.” I replied as I shifted my rifle from one shoulder to another. “Actually I was wondering if you could provide me with the directions to the village headman’s house.”
“In fact, I can do much better. I can personally escort you there. If, of course, you don’t have any qualms about being accompanied by a babbling, eccentric old man.”
“That would be nice, if you have free time…”
“Oh, no, no. No problem. Not at all. This is a village, my child, not a city. Here distances are short and free time is aplenty. Now, if you will follow me this way…”
“You are the local priest here, right?” I asked him as I picked up my bag and started following him.
“Yes, Narendra is my name. My parents named me after Swami Vivekanand.” His speech was infused with enthusiasm and a cheerfulness that seemed to be a rather permanent part of him.
“Hmm. Is it far? I mean the house?”
“Just around the corner. As I said, distances are short…”
People on the streets were now starting to look up. Some even shed their initial inhibition to say ‘Ram Ram’. I acknowledged by waving my free hand – my other hand was supporting the bag on my shoulder – and with a few greetings of my own. Perhaps they had heard the priest’s remarks about their manners, I thought as I followed him. I was having to walk briskly to keep up with the energetic old man.
“Here we take a right turn…” he pointed towards a small opening which led us into a narrow serpentine gully. After walking a few meters the gully twisted sharply to the left and brought us out into a large open area. It had a huge Banyan tree near the centre and its branches nearly shaded the whole area.
“Here we have our Panchayat meetings. The village headman lives right there.” – He pointed to a large house along the parameter of the open area on the other side. “According to our tradition here, the doors to his home are never closed. Anybody can go to him seeking justice at any time. On any such occurrence he either convenes a Panchayat meeting or delivers the justice himself. In either case he does it beneath this tree. So it helps if his home is by its side only. It is only for last couple of years that these doors are kept closed.”
We had reached the house now and he knocked on the door. A woman, middle aged, opened it for us. A look and a frown later she asked me, “Yes, how may I help you?”
“I have come to meet Ramchandra Raghuvanshi. Is he at home?”
She was a little surprised at that. “Yes he is at home. Who should I say has come to meet him? And what business have you with him?”
I dropped the bag on the ground once again and opened its buckles. From inside the bag I extracted what I was looking for. I handed the letter to her and said, “He had sent this letter and there was a parcel with it as well. If you show this to him, I am sure he will understand.”
She seemed to recognize the letter. She took it and beckoned us to come inside. She didn’t seem to mind the old priest coming in, too. It was much cooler inside the house. She guided us through an open courtyard into what must have been a drawing room of the house. There she spread a rug on the floor along a wall and requested us to make ourselves comfortable. There was a single chair in the room which I guessed was for the head of the family. Both of us – me and Naren – sat down on the rug with our ‘backs to the wall’. I felt amused by the word play and smiled to myself. The feel of the wall was cool and soothing to a tired me. I instantly felt weary, sleepy and hungry – all at once. After a moment a girl who must have been in her early twenties entered the room with a jug of water in one hand and a couple of glasses in the other. She asked if we wanted some water to drink and both of us nodded in affirmative. We drank the cool water thirstily. I said enough after 3 fulfilling glassfuls of water had quenched my thirst. It was then that Ramchandra Raghuvanshi walked in the room.
He was an intimidating personality to say the least. Tall and muscular, he was robust looking with his big impressive mustache. His eyes were sharp and penetrative and although he must have been at least in his late forties there were hardly any signs of age catching up. He stood erect and strong, yet he didn’t look heavy. There was an elegant poise in his frame and his movements though unhurried were swift and rhythmic. One peculiar thing I noticed about him was his long arms. In fact, they were so long they seemed to be almost touching his knees.
He sat himself on the chair. I couldn’t help but realize that even while sitting he maintained his grace – almost like a king. His hands on the armrests, he looked down at me kindly like he was looking at one of his wronged subjects. He held the letter I had brought with myself. After a moment of awkward pause – which seemed so unlike him – he spoke in a measured but soothing voice, “This letter was sent to Shivaji Dhangir’s family…”
“He was my father” I cut in.
“I see” Another pause. He joined the tips of his fingers in front of his face and regarded me over them with a thoughtful gaze. He then shifted his eyes for a brief moment on to the rifle which stood by me leaning on the wall. Then he asked, “What business brings you here?”
Isn’t it obvious, I thought. “I want to try my luck at killing the famous ‘Cannibal’.”
“I take it that you have a fair idea of what you are talking about.”
Of course I had a fair idea of what I was talking about. Everybody knew about the Cannibal these days. And everybody talked about it as well. The animal’s exploits had become a part of the folklore in these parts. A man eating tiger that had been a terror to the residents of the Village and the nearby area and that had remained elusive for past 2 years or so. Many gamesmen – some on their own, others requested or commissioned by the government – had given their best efforts to track down and kill the Cannibal over this period. But none had been successful. In fact, many of them had met their death at the hands – or paws, to be specific – of the Cannibal. Only recently the famous gamesman Shivaji Dhangir had taken up the task, and failed. Since then the government had resorted to relocating the residents of the affected areas to other parts till the Cannibal was taken care of. But by the looks of it they had no idea how to do it without burning the forest down or sending military personnel. Presently I just said, “Yes, I do.”
“Very well. Do you have any experience of tackling man eating tigers?”
“I have been living in jungles since I was born. I know the signs of the jungle and my father had been teaching me how to read them and use them since I was 4 years old. I know all about tigers, their habits and have been following them since then.” I was not sure this sounded convincing even to myself.
“Then you will surely know that there is a difference in reading the jungle signs, following tigers to learn more about them and actually stalking a man eater to kill it?”
I simply nodded.
“So, what I actually wanted to ask is do you have any experience of the latter.”
“But, I know how to track tigers. Besides, there has to be a first for everything. My father wasn’t a born gamesman. He also learned on the job, he also killed a tiger for the first time.”
“Hmm, you are right of course. Have you ever killed any animal? I don’t mean dear and rabbits, I mean a fox, perhaps a wolf. Any dangerous animal, a bear perhaps?”
I felt the conversation going in exactly the way I didn’t want it to. “No” I said.
“Listen kid, I don’t believe in Baptism by fire. Anyway, this one is not for the first timers. This is dangerous beyond any I have seen till now and I have seen many till now. Even an experienced and gifted gamesman, that your father was, failed to kill it. I see no way how a novice like you can do it.
“Also,” he continued, “A man eater which has been on the loose for a considerable time, develops a sense for humans, a sense for the tactics gamesmen use to stalk and find it. This makes them unpredictable and all your knowledge about their general habits counts for nothing. This animal that we are talking about has accounted for 7 out of the 11 gamesmen who tried their luck at killing it.”
“I can look after myself.” I kept at it – rather forcefully.
“Perhaps you can. But I am not about to find it out. I cannot allow you the chance to kill this animal.”
“But why not?” patience was never a virtue I could boast of. And with my nerves already on the edge my anger reared its head. “Your people have been troubled by this beast for nearly 2 years. Here is someone who shows up at your door with a rifle and wants to kill that animal. Why wouldn’t you allow that person a chance? You have nothing to lose. If this comes off you and your people will live in peace and if it doesn’t nobody comes to harm but that person and the situation is much the same.”
“It is not that simple, kid. I wish it were, I really do – but it’s not. If you were to be harmed then the thought that I let you face that tiger will haunt me to my grave.” He sighed and leaned back in his chair not taking offense at my outburst. “Your father was a good friend of mine. As I said – a gifted gamesman, as good as any I have known. We corresponded regularly. I knew he had retired from hunting down man eaters. As much for himself as for his family – for you. But this tiger – the ‘Cannibal’, who had already accounted for 6 gamesmen – was something I thought only he could take care of. I wrote to him and urged him to come here. For one last great adventure. For a tale that would be the mother of all the tales he had to tell. And most of all to help my people whose everyday life had turned to a terrible nightmare. He came for his old friend. He tried desperately and untiringly for 2 months. Signs were there that he would succeed like every other time. But he didn’t. He couldn’t go back to you because of me. How do you think I feel about that? No, I cannot allow you to go after the tiger. Even your father couldn’t succeed against him, I cannot risk you now.”
There was a brief silence. And when I spoke to break it, even I was surprised how calm and measured my voice was. “My father would have wanted the hunt to go on. He wouldn’t rest till that animal is dead.”
“This line would be useful to a budding novelist but in real life it is a fool’s thinking. Yes, your father would have wanted the hunt to go on – if he was here. He wouldn’t have rested till that animal was dead – if he was alive. But, he is not. And so, he doesn’t want these things. I am sorry if I sound cold hearted but that’s how this thing is. We have lost many people till now. I would have thought twice about allowing you the game even if you were an accomplished gamesman. As it turns out you are a novice and I am not going to have any second thoughts here.”
“So be it.” I had had enough. “If not with your consent then without it.” I got up.
“Why don’t you understand?” He was exasperated now. “Why don’t you think sensibly for a change? You cannot possibly take the man eater on without my consent and help. Why don’t you just accept that perhaps your skills aren’t developed enough at this stage? This is not the time for you. Why don’t you put yourself in my shoes and then think it over?”
“Why don’t you put yourself in my shoes and then think it over?” I hit back.
“May I have a say on the matter?” The old priest spoke for the first time. I had almost forgotten he was there.
“Of course, Naren” the headman was almost relieved. I braced myself to refute whatever ‘logic’ the priest had to offer.
Instead, he addressed the headman, “I think this kid can survive in the jungle. Even against the Cannibal.”
“What? What are you saying Naren?” the headman was incredulous.
The old priest turned to me this time, “How did you come to the village?”
“I didn’t get you?” I was a bit surprised myself and couldn’t really make out what exactly did he want to know.
“Well from the place where I saw you I can safely say that you took the southern approach to the village. I am guessing you came by train to the taluka station. From there you hitched a ride to Powalgarh. There you stayed overnight. Then you walked about 5-6 Kms to meet the southern approach road I talked about. And then you walked almost 30 Kms to reach the village. Is that right?”
He was absolutely right, “Yes” I said.
“When did you leave Powalgarh?”
“At dawn, at about 5’O Clock.” I was still a bit confused.
“Discarding the time you took to get to the approach road, you almost spent 9 hours travelling through the tiger affected area.” He turned to the headman, “When was the last time you heard anybody toiling through the area for close to 9 hours without getting hurt – alone?” And finally it dawned on me. How stupid could I get? Why hadn’t I thought of it before? I had forgotten 9 hours of constant vigilance; straining my ears for the faintest of sounds – a broken twig, crushing of dry leaves, anything out of the ordinary; all my senses on alert throughout for the jungle signs that a carnivore was on the prowl nearby. I had forgotten my aching arms from holding the heavy rifle at the ready for all that time.
“What are you talking about? Of course it has been done. How do you think all those gamesmen stalked the Cannibal!”
“Exactly, the only people who have done it in the recent past were the skilled gamesmen. And mind you, not all of them survived the experience. This kid spent 9 hours in the jungles on foot – not on any machan sitting over a kill – and without any knowledge of the terrain or the whereabouts of the tiger. This tells me not only does the kid have skill but an abundance of courage as well. And anyway, going after the Cannibal with an axe in hand is going to be suicidal. I had opposed the idea yesterday night and I oppose it now. What if you get killed? What will happen to us then?”
“Oh, for god’s sake!” there was despair in the headman’s voice. “So many people have died trying to rid us of this beast. Many of them had come on my personal request. Do you realize that I am responsible for all of them losing their lives? Good people and even better friends; the people I cared for; all of them dead and their loved ones grieving – because of me. Have you ever had the weight of such massive guilt pulling you down every moment you are alive? Have you ever lost sleep because you just cannot stop thinking about the mistakes you have made and what they have cost?” he got up from his seat and went towards the door which led to the courtyard and stood there looking outside. “I cannot have it happen again. I took the decision to go after the Cannibal myself because it is my responsibility to do everything I can and keep my people safe from any danger. And I will stand by it. I don’t want anyone else to sacrifice their lives for me.”
“This is not about you Ram. The guilt you feel is not allowing you to take the right decision. You took that decision to satisfy your conscience and you know that. You have been talking a lot about being sensible. Let’s see some sense from your side. Ram,” the old priest softened his voice, “being a leader is not easy and I understand your predicament. I possibly cannot imagine the torment you have to go through upon seeing your people suffer. And the feeling of being responsible for the deaths of your friends who came to help. But you have to put your feelings aside and choose what is best for your people. Even if you have to carry this burden on your conscience for the rest of your life. And right now this kid is the best chance your people have. Unless…”
“No. Relocation has to be the last option – a step taken in most extreme situation.” The headman stood looking outside for a long moment. Then he turned towards me. “Do you have only this one gun?”
“No, there is another one – dismantled – in my bag.”
“And ammunition?”
“I have enough.”
“Hmm. Do you know why this man eater is called the Cannibal?” He continued as I shook my head in denial. “Because not only does he like human flesh, but also because he is as clever as the cleverest of men.” There was a pause for another long moment and then he said, “Very well. I will grant you this game on one condition. You will not enter the jungles without my consent. Is it acceptable to you?”
I was surprised at this strange condition, but I could see nothing wrong in it. “Yes, it is” I said.
“Good. The arrangements for your stay will be made in this house itself. Janaki!” – He called out. The woman who had opened the door for us entered the hall. He introduced us “Janaki, this is Shivaji’s daughter – Mila. And Mila, this is my wife. She will look after you during your stay. You must be tired and hungry. You must eat and rest well, for the task that lay ahead is arduous and challenging. I will convene the Panchayat and let them know of my decision.” He took me by the elbow and sort of handed me over to his wife. She smiled and led me through the courtyard to another room. I was so tired that I got through my bath and meal almost half asleep. When I reached my room afterwards, I threw myself on the bed and was fully asleep even before hitting it.
ATTJC - Chapter 2
I could see the animal in my viewfinder as I sat crouched near a small pool of fresh water, right bang in the center of the cross section. At optimum zoom, the details looked sharper – I could see the whiskers on the left side of its face. Its coat of fur lush and beautifully colored. The stripes – yellowish orange, white and black – so rich and beautifully patterned. My father had said if you want a good shot you have to be patient and wait for the right moment. You may never get a second chance if you miss it. So I waited – not moving a muscle in my body. And surely, within a couple of minutes my knees – placed on a rocky surface – started to hurt. My back muscles became taut due to the tension in the position I had held on to. My hands became heavier and my palms grew sweaty. My eyes began to water as the animal slowly shifted upwards and out of focus and I feared I may lose this chance. The first of my life. I feared I may never get to shoot this animal again. And this thought itself strengthened my resolve. My back straightened and the animal again came perfectly in focus. But, even with this new found resolve I wasn’t sure how long will my body be able to hold on like this. Of course I could shoot the animal now. But that just won’t be good enough. So many things depended on me getting this one right. But, after 15 more minutes of diligent vigil, I could hold no longer. I decided to retreat, as inconspicuously as possible, so the animal wouldn’t be disturbed. Perhaps I would get a shot from some other position if it was unaware of my presence. I moved my right knee back an inch and at that instant the animal turned its head and looked at me. I froze where I was. No matter how much you are used to looking at tigers in their natural habitat, you couldn’t get used to this. The tiger was looking right at me and even though I was looking through the viewfinder, its eyes arrested me. The zoom which had provided me a breathtakingly detailed view of the tiger, was now frightening me because of the very same detailed view. But I knew this was the chance I had been waiting for for last couple of months. I had been on the trail of this particular tiger for 2 months now. And here it was, resting in a pool of fresh water, having eaten its meal for the day. I steadied myself first – I had been shaking due to the unbearable tension in the whole body and with a bit of fear now added. And then after reassuring myself that I had the best possible view, I pressed the shutter release button. And my camera clicked with what seemed like a deafening noise. I held my pose for a couple of moments more, apprehensive and waiting for the animal’s reaction. But the tiger just turned its head away, seemingly uninterested – acting like a model who had posed for that perfect shot and now had no more interest in the camera or the cameraman, rather a cameragirl. I painstakingly made my way back, keeping my eyes fixed on the tiger until I bumped into the hunched figure of my father. He inquired with his eyes, did you get it? I nodded my ascent. A smile of triumph spread on his face as we carefully made our way back to the jeep.
Once safely inside the jeep and being driven away by my father my tiredness disappeared quickly. The excitement of having accomplished my task successfully surged through my body. “Baba, it was sooooo big. But I wasn’t scared at all. It had those biiig claws,” I demonstrated just how big with my hands, “And biiig dirty teeth like daggers. You know, it looked at me very menacingly but I didn’t budge, just like you.”
“Really? You are very brave! I am so proud of you!” He was smiling.
“Yes, I was very patient just as you had said. I waited for full 20 minutes. You know, I was crouching all the time with my knees placed on hard rocks.”
“Achcha!?” He interjected, showing his interest in my great adventure.
“Haa! And my knees were hurting very much. See I even got a scratch.” I pulled up the right leg of my pants up to my knee and showed him the tiny bit of coagulated blood. He turned his head for a moment to look at it. He then turned back to focus on his driving and with his left hand patted me to show he was proud.
“Are you hungry?” He asked.
Well, I was, now that he had mentioned it. And very tired as well. We had been out since morning, trying to track my first tiger down. We had been first made aware of our new friend’s arrival 4 months ago. My father had observed an unfamiliar set of pugmarks near our bungalow. He had immediately set out to know more about the animal which had made these. It was obvious that they were made by a tiger. But because of the hard land they were indistinct to know anything more about it. The tiger was young and inexperienced, so it had been fairly easy for my father to track it and ascertain that it wasn’t a menace to the residents living around. It was a male and when fully grown up would develop into a medium sized tiger. I wasn’t to know that, of course. After all it was the first tiger I had set my eyes upon and luckily it was in the wild and not in a zoo. Ever since his arrival in our neighborhood, I had been bugging my father to let me see him. So, once he had made sure that the tiger wasn’t dangerous to humans – comparatively, of course – he decided it was time to teach me about the ways of the jungle. My nanny – Aaji – didn’t take the suggestion well, though.
“She is barely 4 years old” she raged at my father. Nobody could talk to my father like she did. She had been his nanny, too. “I am not going to allow you to take her in the woods. She has barely started going to school. And it’s not like you are taking her out on an elephant ride; you are taking her along to track a TIGER! You know it better than anyone else how dangerous those animals can be.”
“Aaji,” father was still trying to placate her, “This one is harmless. He is not a man eater. He is not going to hurt her. And considering the area where we live, she would be better off knowing about these woods. And this is the time to learn, no? Before she gets busy with her academics.” My father signaled me making sure Aaji didn’t see it. I understood what he wanted.
“You are not going to convince me. I may have become old and you might have grown up to be your own man, but I am not letting you take her.” She just turned her back and sat down with her potatoes and a peeler. I went to her and snuggled up in her lap – as my father had signaled. This was a sure shot way to mellow her down.
“Aaji, aajiii, please let me go” I sweetened my voice as much as I could.
“Aaji, please” my father joined in, “I promise she will be safe.”
We continued pleading until it built up a bit of a frenzy. She had to shout to make us stop. “All right, all right – stop it you two. Both of you are impossible. Fine you can take her out in the woods. But 2 months, that’s it. If you don’t find the tiger in that time you will have to give up. Agreed?”
“Agreed.” Both of us replied.
And so we began searching for the tiger. We first went over the areas that the tiger was known to visit frequently. We found his pugmarks near some of them and we tried to follow the freshest set among them. At first it was a hit and miss thing for me as I couldn’t make out which set of marks was fresher than the others. My father would just let me do the thing and stood back while I was at it. He would just make sure that I didn’t lose my interest. As soon as I got bored, he would put up a question and guide me through my own answers. For the first couple of days I used to follow any set of pugmarks I came across. When some of them led me nowhere, my father asked me – are you sure this is the right set of pugmarks? I pondered over the question. I had never thought on such lines before. I told him I am not sure and asked him how to identify the correct set. And he told me that it is virtually impossible to uniquely identify a tiger based on its pugmarks unless you are aware of some special characteristics. He said because there is only one tiger in this area we could be sure we were following the right marks. And he encouraged me to look at the marks and tell him if I could find anything peculiar. I crouched besides a well formed set of marks. I couldn’t see anything noticeable. My father told me to look carefully at the hind limb marks. And surely, as I walked along the path the tiger had taken, I noticed that his hind limb marks weren’t well formed. They weren’t as round as its fore limb marks were. They were slightly elongated. I told my father what I had seen. And he clapped me on my back and told me I was absolutely right. Then he asked me why would the marks be in such a way? I again thought a lot but couldn’t point out any reason. He said it was so because the tiger dragged its hind limbs while moving and he demonstrated it to me.
Then he told me how to identify the pugmarks which were fresher. The fresher the pugmarks, the sharper they are. It also depended on the atmospheric conditions and the kind of surface on which the marks were made. If there was not much wind or rain or any other disturbing factor and the surface was soft the pugmarks could retain their characteristics for longer – even a week. Otherwise they could become vague even in a few hours. The correct estimation will come with experience, he said. For the moment, he added, he would be glad to assist so long as I asked the right question. I continued following the pugmarks on the soft surface. We were walking along a small footpath created by the frequent travelers through those woods. And then the marks vanished abruptly. I frowned and looked up at my father with questioning eyes. Then he explained some of the deductive detective work that‘s required in tracking the pugmarks. He said it was obvious that the tiger couldn’t have flown away. Also, the surface remained the same so there was no reason for the pugmarks not to be there. Then there were no trees close enough for the tiger to have climbed. Here he made a separate remark that tigers don’t usually climb trees but it wasn’t a completely unknown behavior among them. Some of them had indeed been captured on the camera climbing trees. Coming back to the task at hand, he asked me if I had observed that the tiger was moving across the path and not along it. Also, the fact that last observable pugmark was near the edge of the footpath. And I understood what he wanted to say. The tiger’s next step must have been on the grassy plane that surrounded the footpath. But how can I see any pugmarks on the lush grass? Look closely, my father said. So I looked and after a moment or two I spotted that some of the grass wasn’t even, their tips were bent and in some case they were broken. It was like somebody had trodden them. And these patches of grass made a neat trail to follow. Was that what he wanted me to observe? Yes, he beamed. And so we followed these new marks until they lead us into a shrubbery of bushes. The foliage was so dense that there was no way we could have followed the trail. My father duly chimed in, sometimes I will need to use the knowledge of the terrain, he said. That’s why I should know the jungle very well, also to be able to take any advantage that it may offer. Here, what he knew was beyond this foliage is a small pool of fresh water. The tiger was headed in this direction probably to drink some water or rest in the pool to avoid flies. We could find him there right now, I exclaimed. We could, but it was very unlikely, father said. These pugmarks were made yesterday, so we could have found him resting there yesterday. It was highly unlikely that the tiger would still be there now. And as it turned out, he was right. On the brighter side though, we found the tiger’s pugmarks leaving the pool. These pugmarks led into another foliage on the opposite bank and when we rounded the foliage to check up on the plane beyond, there was no sign of the tiger. The plane which we were looking up wasn’t a grassland as the previous one was. It was hard land where the pugmarks could be traced only if made very recently. I looked up at my father for another piece of information to lead me through and continue on the trail. He wore a frown and stooped down to examine the ground closely. Then he walked around a bit still examining the spot. Then he just shrugged his shoulders and said it looked like a dead end. So we moved on to the other spots and other dead ends.
And so we went to the woods everyday looking for the tiger. And I learnt many other things from my father. He told me that you can detect the presence of a carnivore not only by following a trail but also by the reactions of the jungle folk. Alarm and scare calls of animals like sambar, chital, bluebull, chinkara, langur or even Peacock provide clues to the exact location of the carnivore. Also, the edges of the roads will have scats, droppings, of tigers and their scrape marks, which are also indicators of the freshness of their presence. He told me that many a times you need to pause, listen and assess the clues that the forest provides about the tiger’s presence. Another common method of locating a carnivore and the tiger in particular is locating its last kill. Usually a kill will last for 2 or 3 meals and the tiger will keep coming back to it when hungry. That’s why the tiger after making a kill prefers to carry it to a secluded spot where it can not only eat in peace but also keep the kill away from other scavengers. So, if you are able to locate a kill, you can sit over it and wait for the tiger to make an appearance. If it intends to come back, it is usually within 2-3 days of the killing. Crows on a tree are good indicators of meat nearby and provide clues to a kill. Alternately, he said, you can also look for low flying vultures especially if they are dropping down at a particular spot. Is it too much, he asks as I yawn. No, I am emphatic in my response. He smiles but stops talking anyway as I sleep peacefully after another hard day’s work.
On another day he tells me that sometimes people think tigers are lazy. That is mostly because tigers spend most of their time resting. But it is a misconception, he adds. They spend time resting because they need a lot of energy while hunting. Tigers usually eat once or twice in many days, so they are just preserving their energy when they are not hunting. And the tigers usually rest under a tree trunk or in a pool of fresh water – to avoid flies, I complete his sentence. He also tells me that tigers declare a specific area as their own by urinating on the trees that form the border of that area. Their urine has a strong offensive odor which tells other tigers to stay away from this area. Also, tigers kill only when they are hungry. Do they eat us too, I ask. He says not under normal circumstances. Tigers attack humans only when they are disturbed while they are eating or during their mating season and when they become man eaters. What is a mating season I ask? He chuckles and says that I will know it in time. And why do they become man eaters? He pauses before answering. Sometimes when they get injured due to some reason, they are no longer able to hunt their prey down. At such times they find that killing humans is much easier than killing other animals who are faster and have better survival instinct. So, they become man eaters. Another reason has come to light, he continues. We have a tradition of burning the body once the person is dead. In some villages in the jungles, you have to walk a lot to get to the spot where these rituals take place. So when an epidemic hits such villages, the people die faster than their bodies could be disposed of. So what the village folk do is they put a burning coal inside the mouth of the dead body and dispose of it over a nearby hill or a river. If a tiger who hasn’t eaten in a while finds this body it obviously uses it for its meal. And it develops a taste for human flesh. One thing to note here is that tigers are very brave and usually aren’t scavengers. But sometimes they do resort to eating someone else’s kill or in this case an already dead person. There were also some cases where a tiger accidently killed a human and developed a taste for human flesh. But a man eating tiger is very rare, he assures me. Was this one, a man eater? Of course not, he answers, he wouldn’t be letting me see it if it was.
On one occasion he asks me if he didn’t tell me where to look for the pugmarks, where will I start? I think. I recite all the things he has told me about tigers. And then to him, I say, I will try and look for its latest kill. Bravo! I can tell he is very happy. And what if you don’t find it? I think some more. Then I say, I will look near water or places a tiger might be resting. My father is so happy he actually lifts me up and gives me a kiss on my cheek. I act disgusted and wipe it away with my hands. What’s such a big deal, it was easy, I think.
But, despite all our expertise we haven’t been able to find the tiger and our deadline is fast approaching – Aaji points out. After seeing how hard I had been working and how badly I wanted to complete the task, she was now beginning to worry that I might not make it. And that it may dampen my enthusiasm. But she need not have worried. Because, on the last day of our deadline – like a scripted film – we found a dead Sambhar. It was partially eaten and made a very horrible site. My father asked me if I was alright. I gave him the thumbs up. Although the sight was a bit disgusting and initially my stomach did churn, it wasn’t unbearable for me. There were fresh pugmarks starting near the dead Sambhar and leading up to the pool of water where we eventually found the tiger. The Sambhar was killed a couple of kilometers away to the south from where we had found its body. We had actually chanced upon some pugmarks along with the blood and drag marks forming a neat trail across the woods. My father bent down near the kill and pointed out its neck to me. He said the tiger carried the Sambhar here by holding its neck in his mouth. I couldn’t see the kill properly due to the swarming flies around it, so I moved forward to get a closer look. And I could clearly see the teeth mark on the Sambhar’s neck. Sometimes, my father said, the tiger will carry its kill by the neck and other times by its back. Then we paid attention to the pugmarks, we followed them and as we reached nearer to the pool, my father asked me to wait near a tree while he checked the pool. He then crawled on all fours towards the pool making sure that he was concealed from the view by a thick shrub. He crawled till he reached the end of the shrub and poked his head out of it. Then immediately backed out and told me in a low voice that the tiger was there, resting. He asked me to go ahead and take a picture. And he asked me to wait a while till I was sure I couldn’t get a better picture. So – with a camera hanging around my neck – I followed his lead and crawled towards the pool. As soon as I reached the shrub and poked to look, I saw the tiger resting peacefully in the water. But there were still a few grass blades obstructing the clear view. So I moved forward until I was practically out of the shrub. Then I lifted my hands to hold the camera and sat ready to take the photograph, for which the tiger posed very graciously.
“Well,” father’s voice brought me out of my reverie, “Now that you have seen your first tiger, would you like to name him?”
“It is a ‘he’? How did you know?” I was incredulous that he hadn’t already told me that it was a boy tiger.
“Well, for starters his pugmarks are rounder and well formed. And then there are other ways to tell as well. And,” he continued before I interfered, “I will tell about them later.”
“OK.” I thought for a while, “How about Tommy?”
“He is not a dog! Think about another one.”
“Then how about Siddharth? He looked so calm and peaceful.”
“Hmm, that is a good one. Fine then, we will call him Siddharth.”
When we finally reached home, Aaji was so proud of me. She said she would take me out for an ice cream later in the evening. After we had eaten, father took the camera to develop the photograph I had captured. And when he brought the photograph up after a couple of hours, he said, “This is one of the best pictures of a tiger in the wild that I have seen, no kidding.”
“Then what about the bicycle you had promised if I managed a good photograph?” I asked.
“Of course, sweety. You know I always keep my word. We will go shopping tomorrow.”
That day I ate a Vanilla and a Mango and then had some of the butterscotch we had ordered for Aaji. And then I slept proud and contented. I knew my father always kept his word.
ATTJC - Chapter 3
I was up early the next day. Janaki aunty welcomed me out in the courtyard as I stepped out of my room. She was drawing a Rangoli around the Holy Basil planted there. Even at that early hour she was bathed and ready for the day. The girl who had served me water the day before was there, too, helping aunty out. She wore a plain sari and was bereft of any jewellery or any kind of makeup – just like she was the day before.
“Did you sleep well, beta?” Janaki aunty asked as I made my way towards them.
“Very well aunty, thanks.” I yawned and stretched lazily as I walked. It was a hard day yesterday and even after a 10 hour sleep I was feeling a bit stiff.
“Good. Still feeling the effects of your long journey?” She asked as I winced a little after stretching my back.
“Yes, had a lot of walking to do yesterday. But, I am fit for today’s excursions.”
“Oh, I am not sure you will get to put in much hard work today. The Panchayat are still debating over it.”
“Now? At this early hour?”
“The Panchayat usually convenes at dawn these days. Safest time for a group of people to meet in the open.”
Of course, I thought. “But what are they debating over? It should be straightforward choice I guess.”
“Most of the village folk saw you yesterday. And even you will admit that you don’t look like hunting down a mighty and dangerous tiger.”
“Yes, I know. But what do they have to lose? I just don’t understand what all the fuss is about. What could possibly be the reason for forbidding me this game if I am ready to take the responsibility?”
“We believe that once you are here – in the village – you are our responsibility. I am talking generically, of course. You have to abide by the rules and obey the orders of the Panchayat. In turn, of course, you are treated as one of our own. It has been the tradition of this village for past many generations.”
I wanted to say to hell with tradition, but it would have probably offended her. Instead I just feigned interest in the Rangoli.
She probably sensed my thoughts, because she smiled at me and said, “Don’t you worry. My husband carries a lot of weight in Panchayat. I am sure he will be able to convince the others. Anyway, here, have you met Radha?” She indicated the girl sitting beside her. “You couldn’t be introduced yesterday as she had to visit her parents’ home. Her father has not been well lately. She came back today morning itself.” Then she addressed Radha, “Radha, this is Mila. She is Shivaji uncle’s daughter.”
We both smiled acknowledgement at each other. “How is your father feeling now?” I asked her.
“He is improving.” She answered sedately.
“Radha, just help Mila out in any unpacking she needs to do and also get her done with her morning routine” Janaki aunty told her. Then she turned to me, “Hopefully the Panchayat would have come to their decision by then.”
So we – me and Radha – got up. I hadn’t much unpacking to do, so I was through that and my morning routine pretty fast. And by that time the Panchayat had indeed concluded its proceedings. The members hurried off in groups and I saw the headman coming towards the house. I was curious as to what decision had been taken. But, I decided not to bombard the headman with questions. I moved off to the kitchen with Radha to help out Janaki aunty with her daily chores and waited with anxiety for his call – which was almost immediate. When I made it to the drawing room, I saw he was seated on his chair. I didn’t bother with the rug and sat on the floor facing him.
“I put forth your proposal to the Panchayat.” He was all business straight away. “And I am glad to say that they agreed with our assessment of yesterday, that you represent our best chance at this moment.” I felt relieved and was about to express my gratitude when he held up his hand and continued, “But there is a catch – a condition that you must obey.”
Relief gave way to skepticism. “What is it?” I asked.
“Well, you must first understand that the people in these parts hold their pride above everything else – even their lives. So, at first the idea was appalling to them. They couldn’t let a young girl go out and face danger while they hid themselves behind the safety of their doors. So, my proposal was unanimously refuted initially. I tried my best but couldn’t make them see sense. So, we had to tweak our proposal a little.”
“What is the tweak?” I asked a bit impatiently and sarcastically.
“You will not go into the jungles in search of the Cannibal, alone. The Panchayat has chosen a representative from the village to accompany you in the jungle, always.”
Damn, I thought. “Brilliant!” I said, “What else does one need but a friend to chat along while stalking a tiger. Ingenious, I say.”
“It is either that or your rifle in the bag and off you march back the way you came.” He was calm despite my sarcasm.
“But surely, you know that a gamesman always prefers to work alone.”
“Yes, because a gamesman is afraid of being shot at by another gamesman. This is quite different. The other person will be right with you and he won’t be carrying a gun. There is hardly any chance of him harming you in any way. In fact he will be extremely useful in that he will watch your back and if it came to hand to hand – because of his expertise with an axe – he will be more than helpful. And he knows these jungles intimately. He will be able to guide you and make sure you are not lost and I promise you that he will not get in your way.”
I sighed as he went on, “Also I rather think that it will be good to have a sane head around you. You are young and temperamental. Also you have come here more for revenge than to help out. I don’t want you going out there half cocked and baying for blood. So, overall I thought a companion, an able companion, would be a better protection for you.”
I could see his point, though I did not like it. “Who is the lucky man?” I asked.
“Naren. He will go with you.”
“What?” I was incredulous, “But…”
“He is too old?” He took the words from my mouth. “I am sure you wouldn’t want to call him that when you have seen him move stealthily through the jungle. And also as I said, he is pretty crafty with an axe in his powerful hands.”
“You two decided on this yesterday itself, didn’t you?”
“We did give a thought to this alternative. Anyway, he will be joining us for lunch in a short while. You two can talk it over then.”
I understood he wanted no more discussion on the matter. So, I nodded, got up and made my way back to the kitchen. And there I was helping out absently till we were ready for lunch, for which Naren joined us. As is usual, the men had their lunch before us women. And after we were done as well, I was back in my room. The headman and Naren had some other business to attend to before I could have a talk with Naren, I was told. I tried to think about how I was going to go about finding and killing the Cannibal. But I was a bit too annoyed to do that. Clearly the headman didn’t have much confidence in my abilities, despite his admission that I was probably the person most suited to go after the Cannibal right now. I also didn’t like his remark about me coming here for revenge rather than helping out. I am not much of a noble soul, I admit, but I came because I just wanted to finish the job my father had undertaken and not for revenge. He probably took me for another hot headed youngster. Someone who needs protection from the unknown dangers of the world. A sane head around me! What was I? Insane? Yes, that’s what he must think of me. I could feel the heat rising in my ears. What was it that he said? Yes, I was going there half cocked and baying for blood. A lunatic, a dangerous serial killer – that’s me! And then his tone! He made it all sound like it was a mistake. And that in fact, it was him who had salvaged the situation by telling that priest to accompany me. I got it, it wasn’t protection that he wanted to give; it was control that he wanted to exercise over me. I could contain the restless anger no longer. I started pacing around the room. He wanted somebody to keep an eye on me. So that I don’t go running around half cocked. But what is his problem? Why doesn’t he just let me get on with it! Why do I have to take his permission before entering the jungles? What does he want? It is almost as if he wants to protect this tiger. Can’t he see that it’s the tiger and not me who’s crazy? HE KILLED MY FATHER, FOR GOD’S SAKE! Why doesn’t he let me go after that beast in my own way? Why does he want to stop me? “THIS IS SO UNFAIR!” I cried out aloud.
“What is? Unfair, I mean.” Said a soft voice.
I whirled around to see Naren standing in the doorway. In my agitation I somehow missed him coming. He was calm but grave. I really didn’t feel like talking to him at that moment. “Nothing” I said. “Nothing. I just want to be alone for a while. Do you mind?”
“Being alone and angry will not help the matters any.”
“What is the matter with you people? Why can’t you just let me be? Why can’t anybody just listen to what I say and give me what I want?” I shouted at him.
“I will not have you talk to me such a way. And I think the first thing you should want is a lesson in manners. I didn’t care much for the way you talked to Ram yesterday, either.”
His face was just as calm as before. But his voice and his eyes had gone cold. He hadn’t altered his position in any way, yet he now seemed to radiate authority and a menace. The change in the surrounding aura was perceptible. And this, more than anything else, calmed me down or rather cowed me down. “I… I am sorry” I apologized.
“I understand you are terribly upset. But, you are no child not to be able to keep your wits about yourself.”
“I realize that. And I apologize again for losing my head there.” I felt sorry. I had no right to vent my anger and frustration on him or for that matter anyone else. It wasn’t their fault that my father no longer lived.
“Now that you seem to have realized your mistake, there is no point further dwelling on it.” He was back to his old self. “We have a lot of work to do. And we might as well get down to it.”
And we did indeed get down to our work. At first he went about telling me what all effort had been put in to kill the Cannibal since it was established that the man eater had been on the prowl. After his first kill was established, the local hunters got in on the act straight away. This, actually, wasn’t the first of its kind thing to happen in these parts. So the residents were quite used to everything that goes with it. The usual precautions were taken, the usual hunting parties were established and it was widely believed that it was only a matter of time before the beast was killed. But from then on it all started going horribly wrong. The killings wouldn’t cease. While the hunting parties searched the forests and prowled the villages at night, there always was something missed and people were being killed at an alarming rate. So, Panchayat was convened and certain guidelines were drawn for the things to be taken care of. Accordingly, provisions were made for the food storage and people were encouraged to erect temporary sanitation facilities near their houses. And then curfew was enforced in the villages at nights whence only the hunting parties were allowed to venture outside of their homes. This facilitated the desired results and the killings stopped for a while. There were a couple of sightings and unsuccessful attempts on the life of the tiger as well. And it was widely believed that the Cannibal – he actually wasn’t named so then – was getting desperate and will soon make a mistake that will prove to be fatal for him. Few rifles were then sent for from the nearest town. Only a few, because people in these parts prefer their axes and only a few are handy shots with a rifle. And handy only – not expert. These people were deployed judiciously where an attack was most probable. It was decided by considering the latest estimated position of the tiger. And so, it went on for a few weeks.
“I must confess” he said, “I was getting worried a bit. We were on to this animal for a few weeks now; regularly scouring the jungles around us. And mind you, those hunting parties consisted of people who knew these woods intimately. But yet, we hadn’t been able to locate the man eater. This showed that the animal wasn’t a fool. He knew how to conceal himself. Every animal knows it, yes. But, any other animal should have been found out by now. And we knew he wasn’t starving. We could locate his kills – other animals – regularly. The kills were watched, the riflemen sat over them but as I said it didn’t get us any closer. So, some of the people started to believe that he had given up his man eating ways. But I knew better. From the riflemen’s watch we knew that the tiger didn’t come near any kill for a second helping – which is an odd behavior for a tiger. But, not so odd – I am sure you will agree – for a man eater. So I kept at the Panchayat not to drop their guard – which I gladly say they concurred with.”
Then one day, the dormant killer struck again. And he did it in a jungle. He killed 2 of the hunting party that was searching the jungle and carried off one of them as his meal.
“If I was worried before, I was positively alarmed now. It was generally believed that the tiger killed the second person just because the second person had come to the aid of his comrade upon hearing his screams. The people usually fanned out at close intervals as a searching party. But then, I asked myself why didn’t anyone else hear it? Tigers are not known to kill when they are not hungry, even man eaters. Usually the tiger would have just left his original kill and made of to his safe quarters upon arrival of the intruder. But, this could be a one off incident, I told myself. Wild animals are unpredictable, but usually do not leave their age old ways. His time will come.”
The Panchayat reacted similarly. They were grieved for losing 2 men but then everything was under control. Then another day, rather night, he attacked one of the hunting party guarding the village. But again instead of stealthily carrying it away as his meal he carried the dead body only towards the main bazaar chowk in the village and dumped it there.
“I took it as a warning sounded by the Cannibal – as I named him then. And I told the Panchayat so. They respect me so they couldn’t mock me – not on my face at least. But, they did try to make me see some sense. ‘Tigers do not think so much’, ‘They don’t have enough intellect’, they kept telling me. By this time Ram had his own doubts, he is an intelligent man after all. But even he was skeptical towards the ‘crazy’ theories I was coming up with. The Panchayat though, did agree with me on another suggestion of mine.”
They sought out government’s help in resolving the matter. Although government took prompt action of placing an advertisement in the paper and announcing a reward, it took nearly a month before a gamesman answered their call. Mainly because the reward was meager initially. Then as the days wore on, the Cannibal killed no less than 18 people – all of the hunting party – in that month. Ironically, it was observed that hunting party members were least bothered about observing the code of conduct chalked out for safety from the man eater. With each kill the reward money increased. Finally when it became a substantial amount, a gamesman made his presence known.
“The thing about those 18 killings though, was that they were perfectly normal killings. Each victim was carried off to be eaten. The tiger did not return again to his kills – consistent with his previous behavior. And so, my warnings had proven to be a false alarm in a sense. Everybody was almost glad that the Cannibal wasn’t as intelligent as I had thought him to be. By this time, despite all these killings, people were starting to be careless – which was understandable, I guess. People got tired of living life as if in a cage. So, as I was saying, it was about this time that first real gamesman came to these parts. And since then everything is well documented.”
The gamesman didn’t have much luck. He was killed within 2 months. After his death and before the arrival of a new gamesman, the government encouraged others in the vicinity to have a go. Many of them did, most of them died.
“Time and again, the Cannibal has provided ample proof of his uncommon intelligence. Still, the Panchayat had their reservations about what I had been telling them. Until recently, when they were finally convinced.”
“What convinced them?” I asked.
“Your father’s death.” He paused, probably to gauge my reaction. My heart did skip a bit, my chest was filled with uncomfortable pain, but I kept my expressions in check. The only sign of my inner turmoil was a sudden clenching of my teeth – at least I hoped so. “What is fairly well known is that your father was killed by the Cannibal. And what is not commonly known is the fact that he wasn’t eaten by the Cannibal. He was killed and his dead body was dragged and dumped on the northern approach road to the village.”
There was silence for a while. But it wasn’t quiet. All the blood in my body had rushed to my head and the resulting pounding was so fierce that I feared the veins in my head will explode. Anger and hate, such as I hadn’t known before filled me with such force that it brought tears to my eyes. I hoped he took the tears as a sign of my sadness and not anger.
“*I have grown old, but you are still young. You cannot know how old age thinks and feels. But old men are guilty if they forget what it was to be young *. I do not wish to commit such a mistake. So, in a way I do understand the anger you are feeling now. But, at the same time I do know that you need to grow up; that this is the moment for your coming of age. You said yesterday what your father would have wanted. You were correct, of course. What he also would have wanted is for you to keep your emotional vulnerability aside and think like a hunter. Cold and calculated – always evaluating the conditions and taking the best possible decision. This is not a game, have no illusions about that, although, we do call it that. It is a question of life and death. Not only your life and death but also of many others. And here you need to be a hunter, not a gamesman. Any emotions will only harm you not assist you. The only emotion you want now is sheer bloody minded determination. Yes, he would have wanted that.”
“This line would be useful to a budding novelist.” I said, not without sarcasm, but I believe he understood it wasn’t angry or offensive for he smiled. Just the fact that he was there and smiling did much to abate my anger. He hadn’t said much, but the sincerity in his voice told me he understood.
“He knew what your father would have wanted, all right. It was said merely to dissuade you, I believe.” He became serious, “Ram is a good man. One of those rarely found – passionate, loyal, dedicated. A man of unquestioned ability to lead people; a great friend. And I daresay you will find him to be a caring father figure. This entire hullabaloo is because he cares for you – nay he loves you as his own daughter.”
We sat there, in my room, in silence – a quiet silence this time. I guess it was comforting to know there was still a father figure watching over me. For a while I was worried that I had lost the only one in my life. It had been so wonderful to have one not so long ago. What Naren said didn’t fill up the void that had been formed due to my father’s death, indeed it didn’t even begin to. But it did give me hope. Or perhaps it was only a case of a drowning person hanging onto the last straw.
“I need some fresh air and we need to plan how we are going to go about this stuff. Come along.” He got up and walked out. I was only too happy to oblige, I needed to have something else to think. We strode along and went outside the house near the banyan tree.
There he picked up a stick and drew a big kidney shape in the earth. He drew 16 parallel lines in pairs joining the longer arcs of the shape – somewhat equally spaced. Then he drew a big circle around the kidney shape. “This big circle is the tiger affected area. This shape here represents all the affected villages. There are in total 21 villages, but as the geography is more or less same, we will only consider these 9 villages.” He indicated portions on either side of the each pair of parallel lines. “You can add 6 more such villages on either side and we will have a perfect replica.
“As you can see, the villages are closely knit and form a banana shape. These are all surrounded by thick forests all around them. These pairs of lines you see are patches of forest between the boundaries of adjacent villages. For convenience sake, we will name these villages as numbers – 1 to 21 with village 1 being the west most one and village 21 being the east most. This one in the middle is our village – 12th. You came from the southern approach to the village. As you must have seen on your way, the road at somewhere here” he marked a point at a place which was supposed to be the southern approach road, “Would have forked into 3 separate roads. You took the middle one, the other two fork further as you go ahead and as such are the proper roads to reach the villages. Otherwise, as you can imagine, the jungles are strewn with little pathways to go from any point A to any point B. And it will be my job to be at your service to provide the shortest possible path to wherever it is that you want to go.
“Here, I can only tell you on broad terms what to expect in the jungle. The detailed knowledge will come by actually venturing into the jungle. So, the southern part of this circle, as you would have seen, is more or less uniform jungle. There is mostly no tiger activity in this part. On the other side of the globe, so to say, the distinctive feature is a river that flows through in a most peculiar way. It enters this circle from southwest. It flows along this western curve towards north and then bends sharply towards east and completes its course in more or less straight line. The reason for this sudden turn is a mountainous region that means the river has to change its course. Between the river flow and the northern curve of this village complex – if I may say so – there used to be cultivated land. But now due to neglect has turned into a wild grass land with grass growing as tall as one’s chest. Rest, as on the southern side, is regular jungle with a few small hammocks spread around the area. There is enough unevenness in the ground to form troughs and crests as in a wave. Some of the spots are ideal if you have plans of ambushing the animal. Then there are a few ravines, again spread more or less uniformly over the area.
“If ever you lose me and yourself, there are some houses built by the people who used to sleep near their crops to deter thieves and wild animals from destroying their harvest. These are near the grasslands. Though they are dangerous as they are out in the jungle, at least they provide shelter and if you are able to build a thorn obstacle at the doors, then can be a bit safer as well.
“One of the things we have got going in our favor is the excellent yet simple communication system established by one of the gamesmen. As soon as a kill is discovered, a man from the village – usually the one with the strongest lungs – shouts out a message to his counterpart in the neighboring village and so on. And wherever we are, we will get the message within 10 minutes of the kill being discovered. This system was dormant after your father’s death. In today’s meeting the Panchayat decided to put it in practice again. Heads of other villages have also agreed to provide all the help they can irrespective of any internal political issues – which is useful of course. As far as possible, and no arguments over this, we will keep ourselves on the trees. I see you have telescopic sights on your rifle which should serve us well in this case. We won’t move to the ground until we have to follow a trail after discovering a kill. Even while following a trail you will stick to the path that I decide. Tomorrow we will start at dawn and go to this place” he marked a point further north from the villages somewhere along the middle of the kidney shape on his map, “There is a very tall Eucalyptus tree which oversees most of these villages. We will climb that tree and look for signs and clues.
“Right. That’s it then. Any questions?”
“Yes, there is one doubt I have. If I see the tiger, can I shoot him without asking you?” I asked innocently.
“But, of course. You can do that.” He smiled. And on that note we parted company for the day.
So as decided, he arrived at dawn. I was ready for him. “A priest with an axe! Makes a nice contradiction.” I observed.
“Why should it? The god I worship – which is Ram, in case you didn’t know – is hailed as the greatest warrior to have walked the earth” he answered.
We moved as silently as we could, with all our senses on high alert. But nothing untoward happened till we reached the tall tree. We both climbed high enough to be able to see clearly but not too high lest we had to climb down fast and made ourselves comfortable.
“Now what?” I whispered my question.
“Now we wait.” He murmured. And so we waited.
*This thought is courtesy J. K. Rowling from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Please think of it as a homage rather than imitation.*
ATTJC - Chapter 4
I waited impatiently and kept staring at the school gate. My father was late, just a little, but late nonetheless. It was the last day of my annual exam and a couple of months of summer break and exciting jungle adventures awaited me. I looked around myself for something to pass those interminable minutes with. Some of the boys were playing their own games but they bored me. There weren’t any girls there. There were scarcely few in my school to begin with and most of them didn’t take their education seriously enough to bother about exams. And there was no girl – I swelled up with pride – in middle school where I would be heading provided I managed to pass my exam.
I extracted my father’s pocket watch from my school bag to check the time. No other student – girl or boy – was afforded this rare luxury by their parents. Even some of the teachers consulted my watch to notify students about the time left for the exam. I was also the only kid in the entire district to have a bicycle, for that matter – my father told me so. I snapped shut the flap of the watch and replaced it in my bag. My father was more than a little late now and that made me a little restless, but it didn’t affect my overall cheerful mood. He would be here shortly, I was sure. And I was proved right for he showed up in a couple of minutes profusely apologizing for being late. I just turned on my best smile and said, “It’s OK.”
He looked at me skeptically and made an exaggerated show of being concerned by touching my forehead and neck and asked, “Are you all right? I mean you are feeling well?”
“Of course I am all right…”
“Ohh, got it. Your exam wasn’t so good, is that it? Don’t worry I won’t be angry.”
“Stop it, Baba. What’s gotten into you?”
“I was just surprised that you didn’t get angry at me being late or throw any tantrums. So, I just thought, you know, that perhaps everything wasn’t all right…” the mischievous glint in his eyes gave his mock concern away.
“You are lucky that I am in one of my better moods today” I said as we got into the car. And then I couldn’t hide my excitement any longer, “I am just so excited for the coming holidays! I cannot wait to see Siddharth again. And Sai’s 4 new cubs, I haven’t seen them at all. You will take me to see them? You have been keeping track of them, right? I just cannot wait for our jungle trips to begin again.”
But instead of the usual affectionate encouragement, my father cleared his throat nervously. “I am sorry sweety. This time around I will not be able to accompany you around the jungle. At least not during the beginning.” He paused as I looked at him disbelievingly, “I have to go away for a while.”
“But then, what about your rounds? What will happen to those animals if you are not around to look after them? Who will stop those animal killers?”
“Ratan will assume my responsibilities while I am away.” Ratan Shekhawat – Ratan uncle – was my father’s deputy in the forest department. “But hey, you can always go with him when he is doing the rounds. But you must promise that you will behave like a good girl.”
“Which means stay in the jeep and don’t be too nosy.” I had been to the jungle with Ratan uncle a few times before. “How is one supposed to have fun sitting in the jeep?”
“Oh, I am sure it was because you were a little girl back then. Now that you have grown up, he will give you more freedom. I will talk to him about it.”
“I don’t want to go with him.” I was close to tears now, “You had promised me that we will have fun; that you will show me new places and new animals. We were going to do this together.”
“I am really sorry, sweety.” He looked really sad now. “Believe me; I wouldn’t want to go if it wasn’t really important. I know how much you were looking forward to the vacation, but I have to go.”
“It is even more important than my vacation?” I asked indignantly.
He didn’t like that. “Yes, it is. There are many things more important than your vacation, Mila. You need to stop attaching so much importance to yourself. You need to have a bigger heart and you need to grow up.” His voice was kind but his words were harsh. And then he took all the reproof from his words by adding, “After all you will be a high school girl from next year.”
I smiled in reply but my heart really wasn’t in it. “When are you leaving?” I asked.
“Day after tomorrow. But, I will be busy with preparations for today and tomorrow. And I promise when I come back I will make it up to you. How, I don’t know, but make up I will.”
“You better keep thinking about it while you are away. And come up with something good” I warned him. “And please inform Ratan Uncle that I want to see the four new cubs. They should know me.”
“Sure, you highness!” he said lightheartedly.
“By the way, where are you going?”
“To Naini Tal and then someplace else. There are some villages there, to one of them.”
“Naini Tal! Why?”
“To kill a tiger.”
That wasn’t my father’s first excursion in hunting down man eaters as I learned later. At first I was very bemused by the idea of my father wanting to kill a tiger. Didn’t he fight the very people who do so in his national park? Didn’t he always try to prevent killing of an animal, any animal? There was a difference, as Aaji explained to me later. The people Baba wanted to stop from killing the animals, killed for their personal gain or pleasure. They killed for their sport or for the valuable animal skin. Whereas Baba had gone to kill the tiger because the tiger had become a man eater. And I remembered what he had told me about the man eating tigers. I hadn’t given it a serious thought then. And especially after seeing a few tigers actually live out their lives in the wild I just couldn’t imagine a tiger wanting to hurt a human. But if this tiger attacked humans –
“This tiger must be dangerous, no?” I asked Aaji.
“Yes, very dangerous. It has already killed many people. That’s why people approached your father.” She answered.
“Because he is very brave?”
“That and because he knows a lot about tigers. He is very good at finding them.”
“But, will he hurt Baba?”
“Not a chance dear. Your father will find that tiger first and kill him.” Aaji assured me.
And so it proved. It took my father about a month and a half to finish his job and be back. As soon as I saw him I ran to him and asked, “Did you kill that tiger, Baba?”
“You got that right, I just about managed it.” He looked very happy.
“I knew you would do it. Aaji told me so.”
He laughed and asked me, “So do the four cubs know you now?”
“I didn’t visit them.” I said a bit uncomfortably.
“Why so? You were so excited about seeing them. Did Ratan uncle say anything to you?”
“No. I just didn’t want to go.”
He looked closely at me. “What happened, Sweety?”
“I was just a bit scared, you know. I didn’t know if they will attack me.” I said apprehensively.
“Sweety,” he said soothingly, “Not all tigers are man eaters. Remember when I took you to see a tiger for the first time? Remember how close we got to him? We still have that great photograph you clicked. Now he didn’t harm you, did he? You don’t need to be scared of the animals. They won’t harm you unless you disturb them or they are injured and angry. See, they are just like us. There are some bad men. But there are many good men, too. So, because there are bad men, you don’t stop liking the good ones, do you? Listen, I will tell you a secret. I have had to kill 4 man eating tigers till now. But, I still love them. I am still not afraid of them. And come on, you are the bravest girl I have seen. If you start acting like a coward what hope do others have?”
“I am not a coward!” I responded haughtily. “We will go to see them tomorrow itself. That is, of course, if you aren’t scared of them.” But he wasn’t and we did see them. In fact, later when they were being vaccinated, I also got to touch a tiger for the first time.
Growing up was a whole lot of fun with such a great father. He never made me feel that I was a child growing up without my mother. He always made sure that he spent enough time with me. He was a doting father and never scolded me. But, the respect I always had for him made sure I rarely stepped out of line. And the best part of having him as a father was that you never felt suppressed. All my questions, no matter how irrelevant, were always answered. I was always encouraged to ask more and most importantly never told to accept any answer because I was too young to understand. Whenever I wasn’t satisfied with the answers and asked more, I wasn’t treated as a spoilt child but as a curious one. To this end, he also insisted on properly educating me. And I responded by studying with interest and intelligence. Such openness with a child – especially a girl child – in those days was unheard of. His patience in dealing with me was amazing. His calmness had a very soothing effect on me and people around him in general.
Another one of his assets was the freedom he allowed me. Apart from the freedom to satiate my curiosity he allowed me freedom to express myself. He encouraged me to take up various hobbies and communicate with the experts in those fields; to master some art. I had a liking for photography so he made sure he provided me with enough encouragement and means to pursue it effectively. I liked handling guns so he taught me how to use them. I wanted to know more about wildlife so he put me in contact with many experts whom he himself knew. It was then that he told me about my name. He asked me have I never wondered why I had been christened with a Christian name? I thought, not really – no, I hadn’t. He said I was christened so by his very good friend Tamara. A veterinarian from England – an expert on tigers. He corresponded with her regularly. And she had been visiting India when I was born. He said my mother and Aaji loved her a lot. And although my mother wasn’t around when I was christened, Aaji didn’t object because it was Tamara who thought up the name.
“What does it mean?” I asked.
“It means – Dear one.”
“Do you think I should write to her?”
“Sure, she would love that.”
As I was growing older his trips to take care of man eaters became rather more frequent. He would have to leave us at least once every two years or so. And he would be gone for a month, sometimes two months. On rare occasions he would be unsuccessful and returned merely for rest. Then he would have to go back again. But, he was not getting any younger and it was proving to be a lot more difficult for him to put himself through all the stress and rigor of going after those fit and agile natural hunters. After each such occasion he would return more worn out and unhealthy than before. And after each such occasion his time for recuperation was longer. Both I and Aaji were worried for his health. But our attempts at dissuading him were always rebuked with a disarming smile and confident assurances.
Then once he took almost 3 months to come back. We were really getting worried because we had received correspondence that he had successfully gotten rid of the man eater he was after almost a month back, yet he hadn’t turned up. Then he came back with a big scar showing four clear claw marks on his face and neck. The scars showed that the wounds had been deep and bad. The tiger’s paw had taken much of the skin off his face and neck. And the body hadn’t replenished it yet. The scars ran from right below his left eye to the end of the chin cutting up his nose and lips on their way. His once handsome face made a ghastly sight. And he couldn’t walk by himself; he was supported by Ratan uncle. I stood motionless in shock for a moment then ran forward to help Ratan uncle. Aaji started crying hysterically upon seeing him. Baba looked at her with a mixture of apology and assurance. We – Ratan uncle and me – helped him to his room and lay him down on his bed. Ratan uncle went to fetch his luggage as I examined the wounds closely. I had gained quite a bit of knowledge about injuries caused by animal accidents – thanks to Tamara aunty. Upon examining them I found they had been tended to adequately and there was nothing an amateur healer – me – could do. I would call a doctor soon enough, I thought. Ratan uncle came in with his luggage then and told me he had already sent for a doctor. Baba was now trying to console Aaji who had kept up with her crying. I didn’t say anything then. By and by the doctor came and examined his wounds. He also nodded satisfactorily and only prescribed pain killers in case there was a headache. Ratan uncle had stayed till then. After making sure everything was in order he made Baba promise that he would not be back at his job until he had completely regained his health. I escorted him to the door as he left and expressed my gratitude for his help. He asked me not to be silly, patted me affectionately and left. I closed the door and went to my father’s room.
“I will not let you out of my sight again.” Aaji was telling him in quivering voice. I again didn’t say anything but looked at him with open hostility.
“Are you also angry?” he asked me.
“Should I be?” I answered his question by one of my own.
“I must say, you have every right to.”
“Every right, he says!” This time his calmness was infuriating. “Do you have any idea what you look like? Do you have any idea what must I and Aaji have gone through for last month or so? Do you have any idea what we are going through right now?”
“I believed I did. But perhaps I underestimated the force of it.” He was unruffled by my fit of emotion. It was maddening.
“Now that you have seen the force will you, sir, please be kind enough to take it into account and spare us the suffering again?” I asked acidly.
“I will surely consider it before making any decisions.”
I closed my eyes and swore through clenched teeth, not paying heed that I was doing so in front of elders. “I will tell you this straight and you will listen to me. If you love me and if you love Aaji you will never again put us through this ordeal again. We cannot stand the strain of it and next time you go hunting for a man eater I am sure I will die of brain hemorrhage. Do you understand?”
He looked at me in a resigned way. And after what seemed like an age he said, “I will not put you through such an ordeal again, as you wish. Anyway, I am getting on with my age. My nerves aren’t what they used to be and my senses are certainly not as sharp. I might as well stay home.” And he actually smiled. I couldn’t believe it; the man’s calm was monolithic.
The house was unusually quiet that day. After we all had had our dinner, I helped Baba back to his room. As I was leaving to let him rest, he asked me if I could stay for a while.
“Of course” I said and sat near him. I held his hand in my lap.
“I made a mistake. An error of judgment. An error of a tired and old mind. And a man paid for it with his life and I with these scars. I should have returned for rest, you know.”
I sat there in silence listening to him.
“But, the trick is to keep going, to keep doing your best. For people like us, who have a gift, it is important to put it to good use. It is important not to get bogged down by your conscience for the many you could have saved, but to employ your talent and save as many as you can going ahead. It then only adds to our guilt then when we know we could be out there helping out rather than sitting at home. It makes us feel that somehow we are responsible for people’s death because we didn’t help. And it is not the guilt of not managing to save so many men in my past, but the guilt of so many men I have decided to let die in the future that bothers me.” He stopped talking and took deep breaths.
He was exhausted even because of this little talk. So, I forced him to sleep and left once he had done so. I understood why he had told me what he had. He needed to keep going, he may lose his life but then he could save lives of so many others. He needed me to understand this.
Despite that little talk, he kept his promise well. For nearly 5 years, he didn’t bother himself with man eaters. I on my part got busy with my education and hobbies. For the first time I left home to pursue my education. And then one day when I was home on a vacation, the inevitable happened. My father received a letter from one of his friends. A notorious tiger by the name of the Cannibal was troubling his village and he wanted Baba to help. I knew about the tiger. He had been making headlines for quite a while now. He had been on the loose for a long time and many a gamesman had failed to get rid of him. I was wondering when the government would think of roping in my father and was surprised they hadn’t already. What I didn’t know was that they had tried but my father had refused. It took a desperate plea for help from a friend to make his mind up.
Aaji was very apprehensive and kept trying to change Baba’s mind. But I knew better. The trick for him was to keep going on. He had to put his gift to good use. But Aaji just didn’t give up.
“Aaji,” Baba said soothingly, “I have to go. Please don’t make it hard for me. Listen, we will do one thing. We will set a deadline. Two months. If I don’t succeed in two months I will come back and come back for good. Okay now?”
“You promise you will come back? You promise you will come back to me?” There was a catch in her voice.
“You have my word.” He put his arms around her as she cried freely. He, on the other hand, was as cool as he had been all his life.
As he made off I felt assured. I knew my father always kept his word.
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