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.