Tiger & Other Tales

                                                             TIGER
                                              & 
                                   OTHER TALES

                                                              by
                                                      Srinivas Kamat


                                                           CONTENTS:

1. The Tiger Who Came To Stay 

2. The Devi Shakti  

3. The Tiger Likes To Chase 

4. The Tigress Omnipresent 

5. The Tigress Abdicates 

6. The Happening 

7. Identity 

8. Moving On 

9. Bhobla’s Thunderbolt 

10. The Guy & The Moron

11. The Reckoning

The Tigress Omnipresent

The tigress moved slowly through the sifting mud and the lapping waves of the backwaters in the Sunderbans. She needed to be surefooted here since a paw placed wrongly would have her sliding into the water. Then getting out of the murky waters was an endless irony of slipping and falling, slipping and falling and making a spectacle of oneself. The tigress could ill afford that since she had to sustain her reputation as - The Queen of the Sunderbans. 

The tigress, no one realized particularly these human beings, was timeless and though she had lived through generations by way of multiple incarnations, she remained the Devi Shakti who ruled over these mangrove laden backwaters of the Sunderbans at the southern tip of Bengal. The people prayed to her, idolized her as the Devi Shakti, in the form of the female Goddess but that was more because these human beings found it convenient. They needed a recognizable form to get their minds to accept as belief. The tigress did not mind that since after all in the idol the Devi sat atop a tigress. The tigress was also not worried since it was she, and she alone, who controlled the destiny of all the humans in her land. By her will they lived and by her will they died. They prayed to her in fear, they prayed to her to grant life, they prayed to her to grant boons, they prayed to her to grant children, they prayed to her to cure them of disease, they prayed to her all the time. The tigress to each supplicant according to her will and pleasure granted what they wished as long as they had some remaining time to live in this world. Sometimes she would have to take away one or the other of them for having transgressed her domain. And in that there was no mercy. It was immediate death ordained by the will of the Devi. A summary powerful blow with her paws to incapacitate the victim followed by her jaws sinking into the back of the neck brought a quick and merciful death. The flesh of the victim’s body had to be devoured since in that was the legend of the tigress as the Devi Shakti reiterated time and again in the minds of the people who lived in her kingdom. And keeping that aura alive was important for the tigress. 

The psychosis of fear thus generated ensured that the respect for the tigress as the Devi Shakti,remained inviolate. Thus as the people living in the Sunderbans went about their daily lives of fishing or collecting wild honey which the bees would agglomerate as huge beehives amongst the trees on some of the islands in the Sunderbans, the delta of the Ganges. The people would as a ritual pray to the Devi Shakti to allow them access to the jungle and secondly, appeal for safety from the tigers. This was amusing to the tigress, pray to her to save them from herself! These human beings had always remained stupid and blindly followed what they believed without thinking through the situation. The tigress when thus implored was inclined to be merciful and accord the people the rights to pursue their livelihoods. Death she knew was in her hands. The professions of fishing and collecting wild honey did not come in the way of the life of the tigress since neither was part of her diet. She therefore was magnanimous to these requests from the people who inhabited the Sunderbans. But then there were some areas in the delta which were out of bounds for the people and the private domain of the tigress. The boundaries of these areas would also be changing since the tigress could be fickle-minded. Thus a fisherman out fishing in the estuary would sometimes find the tigress stalking him by way of swimming after his boat for miles together and then come suddenly abreast of the boat and capsize it. The fisherman thus thrown overboard would not have much of a chance against the tigress in the water. In moments therefore the muddy waters normally ochre near the banks would have streaks of vermilion etched on them from the blood of the dead fisherman. The tigress would thus kill some of the human beings randomly. This led to the people being uncertain as to which places were safe for them to go about their daily activities. This state of affairs was acceptable to the tigress since in that uncertainty there was fear and from that fear was generated her power over the people.

She was reminded of what had happened some years ago where the people would wear face masks at the back of their head to avoid tiger attacks. The people believed that the tigers prefer to attack humans from behind and if they wore a face mask at the back of their heads they would be safe from the tigers. How stupid were these human beings! Did they not know that smell formed the first dominant sense with which tigers hunted? Secondly, it was sound related to movement which alerted the tigers? And thirdly, the tiger was the representation of the Devi Shakti and therefore they intuitively knew the moment any intruder crossed their boundaries. The tigress allowed this belief to gain ground among the people for the first year which was that if the people wore face masks on the back of their head they would be safe from the tigers. Getting the people to believe these foolish notions was actually good for the tigers since there were more double faced human beings available to be hunted in the jungle. But after some time the people realized that the killings by the tigers had not actually abated. This whole exercise of wearing back-facing masks for people safety actually hiked the tigress’ reputation by a couple of notches, since the people came to believe that the tigers were smarter and they knew all along that the people were wearing the masks front to back. And after all the tigers were the gods and they knew all along about the ploys that the people would employ to keep themselves safe from the tigers.

Similarly the human beings had other notions that the tiger was at the top of the food chain and if the tiger was thriving then the wildlife in that area would also thrive. To this the tigress had a simple answer and that was if she were the Devi Shakti, should she not ensure that her species should not be wanting for anything, the least of all hunger. And if she was responsible for her domain she should allow everyone to thrive and prosper so that general well-being was assured. But lately what the tigress had seen was that the human beings were getting more aggressive. There were many new developments that were coming to the Sunderbans. 

First it was the long barrel from which would emerge a loud, cracking sound and the tigers would fall down dead with a hole made in their bodies. The tigress had found that that it was not the sound that was the reason for the death of the tigers but of a ball which was released from the barrel which would pierce the tiger’s fur, go deep into the flesh and inter itself into some critical organ. The pain at the time of penetrating the fur and the skin of the tiger was excruciating and it continued as long as the ball remained in the tiger’s body. The tiger was helpless when such a ball lodged into its body since it was always buried deep and there was no way that the tiger could remove it with its teeth or paws. Moreover if the ball pierced the head or the heart of the tiger then it resulted in instant death. But then the explosive barrel with the ball that the human beings carried and which they called a rifle was not very dangerous as long the tigers hid themselves when they were far from the hunter bearing the rifle. The hunters with the rifle would come whenever some of the tigers by mistake had killed and devoured more human beings than what was thought normal. The rifle was of no use at close range. And therefore the tigers remained in hiding in the mangroves so that their smell did not carry to the hunters. And once the hunting party was near they would pick off first the men who were carrying the rifles pouncing on them from behind. The rest of the hunting party would then take to their heels thus attacked. 

But lately what the tigress was also seeing was that the fishermen were increasingly using something to make big blasts in the water to kill many fish together. Though this was not directly affecting the life of the tiger it was disturbing and nerve-wracking when mostly in the night such loud explosions were set off. Earlier the people of the Sunderbans used boats for fishing and to go from one place to another. And one would see big sailing boats sometimes moving silently in the water. But in the last few years there were huge coloured boats plying in the waters of the Sunderbans which would make a lot of noise and also churn up the water as they passed. They were not made of wood but of something hard and would carry hundreds of people at one time ferrying them from one place to another, one island to another. The churning of the water by these big boats, launches they were called, would set off waves in the water sometimes as tall as the bore tides that would come in the waters of the Sunderbans. These were new things and had hurt some of the smaller tigers who sometimes being curious would have gone under the launch in the water. Then the launch almost sensing the tiger under it would come alive making a massive noise and thresh its many legs in the waters which were hard and unyielding and which could cut up a tiger into shreds in seconds. After one or two incidents like this the tigers used to give these new launch boats a wide berth. 

Thus times were changing and the tigress unsure herself of how to deal with these matters decided one day to test the waters herself. The ferry point was some ten miles from Basanti, the main town at the entry point of the Sunderbans. The launch had just started back for Lokepur when the people thronging the deck spotted a tiger swimming alongside the launch. Everyone wanted to have a look at the tiger which was swimming leisurely and almost keeping pace with the launch. Its head was up, sticking out of the water. Tigers swam with their feet kicking the water and keeping their head clear to be able to breathe. When the launch reached midstream, it corrected its direction and picked up more speed but the tiger remained abreast of the launch almost amidship and to the launch’s right. About half a mile had passed and the clamour on the ship by the passengers upon seeing the tiger was growing. Many on board were thrilled to see the tiger in the first place and secondly the prospect of a tiger racing a launch would make an exciting story for the family at home. The pilot of the launch had also slowed down so that the passengers could enjoy the sight of the swimming tiger. In the swell that the ship was creating,the tiger was bobbing along as if it was a black and gold striped cork floating in the water. For the pilot during his tenure in the Sunderbans, he had seen it all. And many a time tigers, mostly the younger ones, out of curiosity would swim for a while with the launch and then move landward. But this tiger seemed to be staying longer. It also seemed to be tiring a bit and falling back to the stern of the launch. A little bit ahead was where the return launch from Lokepur would cross their launch is what the passengers thought and the tiger was smack in the path of that launch. In a couple of minutes the other launch was sighted by the passengers and many cried out to the tiger to save itself. For the novel experience of having swum alongside their launch the passengers were siding with their marauder, the tiger. The tiger was unaware of the danger ahead and the river here had widened so the banks were too far to head for. The tiger for the fun of it had remained with the launch to see how far it could go. The return launch was almost upon the tiger before it saw the danger ahead. It seemed oblivious of the return launch. The launches would normally pass with just about fifty meters separating them. The launch from Lokepur being warned on the radio about the tiger by the pilot of the Basanti launch took evasive action to move further away and give space to the tiger. Even the swells from the two launches that normally hit each other with a slap met in the middle and created a vortex of hurtling water and a whirlpool of sorts. This sucked the tiger under into the water. Though it fought going down with all its massive strength, it was a one-sided battle. The vortex won and the tiger severely disoriented by now was thrown towards and under the Lokepur launch. The propeller blades of the launch hit the gold and black striped body of the tiger and severed flesh from bone. It was like putting the tiger through a thresher.  The launches passed each other with the passengers on the Basanti launch shocked and stunned to speak. Not a word escaped their lips. The passengers not having got a glimpse of the tiger from the Lokepur launch were noisy, each trying to clamber over the other who were on the railings of the launch to see what was happening. After some time the water had settled down. Then the body of the tiger severely disfigured floated up onto the water stretched out in repose. The blood trail starting from its head etched onto the water a huge ‘OM’ that seemed to encircle the body. The tiger was dead.

The Forest Department came quickly because their office was nearby and they had been sent word about a tiger swimming by the launch. Many people from the neighbouring villages had collected on the banks hearing of the spectacle which had now turned into a sorrowful tale. The motorboats of the Forest Department recovered the body of the tiger and brought it to the shore. It was near the Devi Shakti temple. They unloaded the tiger’s carcass almost in front of the temple courtyard. The Forest Range Officer had found out that the body was that a mature and old tigress. It was hot and the sun was beating down on the ground. The people of the villages were clustered around the dead body of the tigress. The Forest Department people were trying their best to hold them back so that they did not fall on the body. The smell of the warming fur of the tiger was spreading now. There then seemed to be a crackling sound and then the odour of acrid flesh being burnt. The Forest Range Officer and the local people clustered around him found to their amazement that the tiger’s body now was bare to the bone and the flesh and skin was lying around the skeleton as ashes. In another few moments as if by magic the bones crumbled and became dust. There was no more the body of the tigress there. She had disintegrated by herself and interred in the earth.  

This legend grew in later times in the Sunderbans saying that death of the tigress symbolized that the Devi Shakti had given up on mankind in the face of technology that they had brought to ravage the earth and destroy it. The tiger still roamed the Sunderbans but there were less people who were afraid of it since the people had not much need to pursue the age-old occupations of fishing and collecting wild honey. One of the new occupations for the local people was to take these rich city-folk who came to visit, on their boats for tiger sightings. The tigers also had become relaxed and laid back. They no longer capsized the boats though now it would have been more enjoyable for them to sink their fangs into the city fat cats who came to watch them. It was rumoured that the Devi Shakti had migrated to the other part of the Sunderbans in adjoining Bangladesh where they still pursued the traditional occupations and they needed to revere the Goddess.

THE END

The Tiger Likes To Chase

Amol, Poltu, Jogu, Nabin and Jiban were all young and as is usual at that age getting into all kinds of scrapes. Whether it was the disappearance of the guavas from Abananda’s tree, to being chased out by the chowkidar from the mango orchard for throwing stones at the early kairis - unripe mangoes, to fishing in the zamindar’s tank for those magnificent fish – rohu, which no one got a chance to eat except for the old sod and his family, they firmly believed that they had a right to all that was there in the village. Since after all wasn’t the whole village also theirs. Apart from the mischief the Gang of 4 or Pandavas, as they were fondly called in the village, were also very useful whenever there was any work to be done. If a bandh – a field embankment gave way and the water of the canal flooded the early rabi crop, it was the Pandavas who would get together with the farmer. With the gamchas – towels tied around their waists, they would wade into the breach and dam it up with earth. Or during the time of the festivities of the Durga Puja or any puja or function, public or of any household, in the village for that matter, it was the Pandavas who were looked to make the pandal and do the general running around that was required at these festive times. They would slog without questioning and make sure everything that needed to be done, was done properly. The village of Maunpuri was proud of their Pandavas and complimented their parents quite frequently. Therefore the small indiscretions of the missing guavas or the kairis or the fish were overlooked quite often. 

Maunpuri was a village nestling on a plateau and contained some hundred houses. Most of the houses were thatched roof except for one or two pucca houses of wood and plaster among which was the zamindar’s palatial mansion. It stood out from the rest and the old surviving descendantof the Singha Roy family, Durgacharan Babu was tolerated by one and all. He was a stern man, known to be stingy and quite often unreasonable but he had a side of him which was nice. That would randomly peek out from the angry persona endearing him to the people of the village when it would come to deferring the lagan – the tax or helping out some villager with money for his daughter’s wedding. This made him acceptable and the consensus of the villagers was that it was not Durgacharan Babu’s fault about the flaws in his character but maybe because of the fact that he was born a zamindar. Maunpuri was green since it got more than its share of the rains and its village tanks were full and teeming with fish like the rohu and other varieties. The village itself was clean with its neat rows of houses with thatched roofs and their courtyards swept clearand smeared with cowdung. It was a pretty sight for any eye to see.  The fields surrounded the villages and just about a mile and beyond the scrub started. There was a winding kutcha road through the scrub leading to the town of Farrukhabad which was some ten miles away. This was tiger country. The feline cats would make an appearance off and on scaring the villagers. But there was nothing that you could do except shoo the cats away. It was a live and let-live policy. The cats were respected by the villagers and they fervently hoped that the cats respected them too. Off and on there would be incidents of one or the other, when having gone to the fields or returning from the big town being carried away by a tiger but then nothing was done about it. Nothing, actually, could be done. The villagers said that whoever was killed in this way, it was their fate to go into the after-life like that. Or that it was the devi’s prakop – anger of the villagedeity. 

It was at around that time that the carriers of post or the “Bhangy Post" was being established by the British rulers and it was being slowly opened up to the public across the country. The name -“Bhangy Post" - derived from the bamboo stick or bhangy which the carrier balanced on his shoulder with the weights slung at each end. These weights were restricted to 600 tolas (15 lbs. or 6.8 Kg). The carriers who actually carried the post were also called runners since with the letters or post they would run from one station to the other. The service had not reached Maunpuri yet. It did not also matter much since not many in the village knew how to read and write. And whoever ever thought of writing to someone else, their friend or a relative in a far off place, about what they had to convey. People were generally happy with their self-contained lives and with all their near and dear ones being in the village itself. When there was no need to leave the village, where was the need of writing and sending letters? But when with the runners came, along with them came many stories. About danger, romance, challenge, the runner’sstamina, their bravery, their dedication and how they sometimes had to fight the thuggees – dacoits lying in wait for them. It was said that the runner’s would outpace the bandits through the forest trails. After all they were runners. The news about the runners had also reached the Pandavas of Maunpuri.

Poltu broached the subject one day to the others - ‘Have you heard of these runners?’ 

Amol said, - “Who hasn’t? They are the hot flavour of the season now. Almost everyone is talking of them.’

Jiban piped in – ‘They are also paid well, I believe.’

Jogu added – ‘What an exciting life! Running through jungles at night. All the girls will say – How romantic!’

Nabin enthusiastically raised the clarion call – ‘Why do we not join them?’

Amol said – ‘It is not all that easy. When I had gone to Farrukhabad with my uncle the other day, we met someone who said that though being a runner seems to be the fashion among the young people today, it is actually quite a tough life.’

Poltu retorted – ‘What! Do you think that they will give you money for free?’

Amol continued – ‘The runners have to mainly run in the night. And that too through the jungle. The wild beasts attack them some times. Not only that, they have to also think of falling in the hands of the thuggees. And then there is every chance of being eaten up by tigers.’

‘What is your problem, Amol? Afraid, as usual!’ – Nabin said.

Amol was always like that. Nervous and afraid to do anything. He was always the last to take off when the chowkidar would be chasing them and the others would look back anxiously to make sure he was keeping up with them. The Pandavas policy was - No point in getting caught red-handed since you would get punished all the more. And sometimes that is exactly what would happen and all because of this slow-coach Amol. Even when fishing clandestinely in the zamindar’s tank he would prefer to be the lookout rather than take part in the actual catching of the fish by jumping into the water with their gamchas – towels to net the big fat rohu’s. The time they went for a dare to stay awake the whole night on an amavasya - new moon day at the village cremation grounds would be remembered for the orchestra that was played almost throughout the night by Amol’s chattering teeth, which in the manner of the baul bhajans – minstrel religious songs, would randomly reach great crescendos while also sinking to very sonorous lows. But the good thing was that he would come along for anything that the Pandavas would do though prior to that he would give a hundred excuses not to do anything that they had set their minds on. 

Thus it was in the same way that the Pandavas decided in unison to join the postal department and become runners. Amol also came along. There were the tests that the department conducted at Farrukhabad. Mostly physical, that of running, climbing and obstacle races, which was all child’s play for the Pandavas since that was, in any case, how they would spend time in the village. Amol as usual faltered, tripped a couple of times but picked himself up and completed the tests of endurance, fretting all the while. At the end of that week they were all enrolled as runners with the postal department and given a brass armlet saying – Runner, and with their name and some number on it. The Pandavas were proud and showed it off when they came back to Maunpuri. They had been given off for a couple of days before they would have to report for duty at their respective stations. Poltu, Jogu, Nabin and Jiban had been told to go to far off places like Ratanpur, Dholgram, Paranpur and Sinarhati, while Amol considered the slowest and the dimwit of the lot was retained at Farrukhabad. The postmaster at Farrukhabad was not happy with Amol being placed there but then there were not many letters to deliver here and with the work-load being less, the postmaster thought that he would have very much less to complain about Amol. 

In another five months after the Pandavas had joined the postal department, it would be the Durga Puja and for the four day festival, they could maybe wangle some leave and meet back at Maunpuri. Then they could share notes about their experiences as runners. In the meanwhile they would get some news about their friends only when another runner from their base station would visit the place of posting of one of the other Pandavas. With three months having passed, there had not been an opportunity for one of the Pandavas to be delivering any letters to the place where one of their other friends were located. In this time Amol was not very happy since firstly, he had thought that they would be all together but now they were all dispersed here and there and secondly, he did not like the work, running around in the night as if one had nothing better to do. Though he did get once in a while to go home to Maunpuri delivering the zamindar Durgacharan Babu’s letters. At that time he would also be able to go to his family and have some home food. In the meanwhile the postmaster at Farrukhabad was getting unhappy with Amol. Once gone to deliver letters, Amol would rarely return quickly. The old postmaster suspected that Amol walked and rarely ran. Whenever called to go off on any urgent delivery, Amol would always give excuses about how his health was failing him and could not the postmaster send someone else. Shirking work, the postmaster suspected, was in Amol’s blood. 

It was around this time that news started coming in slowly of the runners being attacked by tigers. A runner near Golapganj while returning to his base station early in the morning on the jungle trail had been pounced upon by a tiger. There was little he could do with his bhangi and had succumbed to the tiger’s attack. The remains of his body had been found by nearby villagers. He was identified as a runner by the brass armlet that was found near the remains. After another couple of weeks there was yet another attack, again in the morning and this time the runner had put up a fight but to no avail. But that had bought him time and with some villagers coming to his rescue the tiger had been unable to drag his kill away. The dead runner could at least be restored to his family for completing the funeral rites. Then almost immediately after that near Mirpur another runner was attacked by a tiger. This time it was in the evening when the runner was just starting on his delivery mission. Here there had been no fight and the tiger had dragged away the body of the runner. When the next morning he did not turn up at the next runner station, his seniors had thought that something was amiss. Thinking that he may have had an accident or maybe was not well, they waited for another day and then sent out a team from the runner’s base station to look for him. Going down the jungle trail just about a mile or two, they found the telltale signs of shredded clothes and his rough-shod blanket. A little further they found the bhangi. But after that there was no further evidence. The team came back and reported to the seniors that the runner had probably been devoured by the tiger and the remains, that is whatever was left, was dragged deep into the jungle, where they were afraid to go. 

The postal department was getting very concerned now and the British superiors anxious that the fledgling postal service should not meet an untimely and inopportune end, started to convince their Indian subordinates to speak to the runners that the British rulers would do their best to save the runner’s lives. The first measure adopted would be to kill as many tigers as possible which would carry the message that the authorities were serious in their assurances to protect the runners. The second measure was to get the runners to make noise to scare away the tigers. In this the runners would be given horns in the form of small trumpets on which to blow in the event they perceived danger be it from the tigers or thuggees. Additionally it was decided that the bhangis – the bamboo staff that the runners carried would be decorated with bells at both ends which would make them jingle while the runners moved and more so when they ran. To reinstate this after some more time it was thought that the runners should wear bells on their legs like ghungroos which would make all the more noise as the runners ran about their tasks. The horns were accepted by the runners and even the bells on the bhangis considering that apart from making noise to scare the tigers, it was in line with their religious custom where to the sacred shrine of Tarakeshwar the devotees would go with pitchers of water balanced on the bhangis to which also were tied bells to relieve the tedium and to take their minds off the strength-sapping march from miles away.  But the bells on their feet was something that did not go very well with the runners since they looked at it as if a very masculine job that they were doing and for which they were respected in their homes, villages and common society was being reduced to a feminine task. They objected to wearing the ghungroos first but when the authorities were firmthey acquiesced quietly but sooner they would leave their stations or at the very first opportunity they would take off the ghungroos. The British superiors had also given instructions that if a runner sensed being tracked by a tiger then he should slow down to a walking pace and also try and light a fire as long as possible and then when it was relatively safe, to proceed again. This was because it had been said that the tiger, actually a timid animal, liked the thrill of a chase and seeing a runner running aroused his interest more than someone who was just walking. Also fire was something that all animals were afraid of, the tiger being no exception.

The hunters that the postal department employed were successful at first and in the first sixmonths some ten tigers were shot, not necessarily all man-eaters. But that resulted in the confidence level of the runners increasing to do the job that they had been entrusted with. But the killings did not reduce and once in a while it was reported that a runner had not reached a station as per the roster sheet and there were the signs of mutilated bodies carrying the brass armletconfirming that it was indeed a runner who had been killed. These killings were all attributed to the tiger. The runners had generally also found that the bells fixed on both ends of the bhangisnot only attracted the thuggees to them but also the tigers. So just like the bells on their legs - ghungroos, the runners also sometimes removed the bells put on the bhangis, happy to go about their job silently and preferring to take the risk of being stalked by the tiger in the normal way. 

In the meanwhile the Pandavas from Maunpuri continued their exploits in the postal service as runners. They were all doing well except for Amol.  They had met during the four day festival of Durga Puja and many were the stories they exchanged about their achievements. The stories never seemed to end about the places that they had seen. The beautiful villages that they had passed through. About the special food that some of the villages made and of which they had partaken. They giggled and teased each other when it came to talking about the women. Some had shown a direct interest in the manly runners who had so many wonderful stories to tell of their journeys through the jungles in the night. But none of them had fallen for any of the girls and had been able to return to their village unscathed. It was only Amol who remained relatively quiet while the others chattered away incessantly. The others ribbed him for having the easiest job being posted at Farrukhabad. But the word had spread among the runners that Amol was a shirker who would avoid going out given an opportunity. It was also said that the postmaster at Farrukhabad was also tired of him. That when sent on a delivery he rarely came back on time. The other three Pandavas tried to reason with him asking him to improve his work. He had to measure up to the great tradition of the runners as they were doing. But it was not for Amol, who when reminded about his work would leave their group abruptly only to be seen the next day. Thus Nabin, Jiban, Jogu and Poltu decided that since they were here just for a short holiday to avoid pulling Amol’s legs. After all in another couple of days they would have to go back to their jobs in distant places and what with the tigers and all, God alone knew when they would see each other again. The Pandavas disbanded after the holidays going back each to his own way promising to get back together whenever a next break was possible. Amol also returned reluctantly to his runner station at Farrukhabad. He would have left the job but for the fact that he was ashamed to face the other three Pandavas if he did that and the money was good which his family needed. Though with his parents he had tried to avoid going back saying that they were only sending him back to be eaten by the tiger!

And then it happened. Jiban was attacked by a tiger on one of his runs and killed. Amol got to know this since the letter informing about this event had to go through Farrukhabad and it was for Amol to carry the news to his friend’s family. For a few days Amol went around as if he was shell-shocked. Images of Jiban floated in front of his eyes wherever he went. And after a couple of months it was Poltu and at the end of that year it was Nabin. Soon after Jogu met the same fate. All had been attacked by tigers and Poltu among them was never found. No signs of the body or his brass armlet was ever recovered. This had led people in Maunpuri to surmise maybe that Poltu had absconded and left the dangerous job of a runner. But his family would not accept that comment since they believed, at the least, that Poltu would have come home and met his ailing mother. Amol now was the only one left among the Pandavas. Ever since Jiban had been killed he had slackened more on the job. Each trip to deliver letters after that and if he had to cross a jungle was like mental torture to him. He would keep looking all over, right, left, backwards and forwards and his gait would settle into a snail’s pace rarely interested in the delivery of the letters that he carried. The postmaster at Farrukhabad was getting to be at wit’s end with Amol and many a time he had threatened to throw him out of the job. But all this had scarcely any effect on Amol who remained listless as ever. The postmaster also did not push the matter too much since it was difficult getting runners, what with the tiger scare. The romance of the job had waned as time had passed and the strenuous part of the work coupled with the dangers associated with it like from thuggees and the tiger was to the fore now. Thus Amol remained on the job.

About a year had passed and in another few weeks it would be the Durga Puja festival. But Amol was not happy with the prospect since he was the only surviving member of the Pandavas ofMaunpuri. As much as it was possible Amol avoided work and preferred to remain at his base station in Farrukhabad pottering around, doing this and that. But then that fateful day dawned and Amol was the only runner available at Farrukhabad. All the others had gone for delivery runs. An important letter had come for Durgacharan Babu of Maunpuri. It was evening and the postmaster called in Amol and told him that he had to go right away. Amol, the postmaster thought, instead of being happy that he could go back home and meet his family flatly refused to go then and there. But the postmaster would have none of that and asked Amol to – ‘Go Now!’The reason for that was the marking on the envelope carrying the letter said – Express Delivery, which meant that it had to go immediately after arriving at the nearest runner station irrespective of what hour of the day or night it would be. Amol kept pleading that because Maunpuri was nearby whether he went now in the night or the next morning it was the same thing. But the postmaster already very much upset with the way Amol worked, would have none of that and summarily asked Amol to – ‘Get out now! Go and deliver the letter!’

Amol disconsolately got ready, picked up the letter and donning his equipment was on his way in a short while. About half a mile from the base station where the jungle started, he stopped and removed his ghungroos and the bells on his bhangi. He definitely did not want to attract anyone’s attention least of all the tiger’s. He had also slowed to a walking pace which he calculated that if he maintained would have him in Mainpuri early the next morning. He was into the jungle by now and the trail was familiar to him since he had been on it umpteen times. About a furlong it would take a left turn and then running past a pond it would carry on straight for a mile. Luckily it was a full moon night and the path ahead of him was reasonably well lit. 

Amol was feeling scared as usual. But today, all the more so. The reason for this was that a tiger had been sighted in this same jungle a couple of days ago. That is why he had been pleading with the postmaster if he could go for the delivery the next morning. When you knew there was a tiger around, there was no point sending him to it. Is it not, that is what Amol was thinking? There was some scurrying noise in the brush on his right and Amol looked in that direction. His eyes had gone round with fear now. He held all the more firmly to his bhangi. Involuntarily his gait had become faster and he found that he was almost trotting. The pond was coming up now. It looked like a plate of silver polished and set out in the midst of these sylvan surroundings bathing in the moonlight. The beauty of this sight was lost on Amol because he was concentrating on the sounds around him. There, that sound was there again. But a little nearer. They had said that the tiger seen by some villager here was a big one. There was no point of even thinking that he would survive if he were to come across it. Looking to his right, Amol scurried past the banks of the pond. Turning around at the top of the curve of the pond, on the path that he had been just now, what he saw was a full grown tiger! It looked big in the hazy silvery moonlight. And it was standing across the path, straddling it. It was beyond Amol now and with a cry of ‘Baagh!! Baagh!!’ he broke into a run, blowing on his horn all the while. Risking a glance over his right shoulder, Amol saw to his increasing alarm that the tiger had also broken into a lope. It was a relaxed trot that the tiger seemed to be doing, confident that the quarry was his. Amol seeing the tiger running, was in full flight now. Sprinting for all that he was worth down the jungle path. He had discarded his bhangi and the envelope containing the letter and the small bag that he was carrying with some things for his family. Amol was running full tilt for his life now. Even then he thought that he should see how far the tiger was behind him. In so doing he tripped on his own legs and sprawled onto the path. In the process of falling, Amol had seen that the tiger was still a hundred yards away. Spitting the dust that had entered his mouth Amol saw that the tiger had also stopped and was standing there looking at him. The glance was playful and inquisitive and it was pawing at the ground. Almost imploring for Amol to get up. The tiger was small but magnificent. The stripes made it more fearful in the the moonlight. Andwhat is this that Amol was seeing, the tiger had sat down in the middle of the path with its tail curled around it. It was looking just like an overgrown playful cat. All this did not assuage Amol’s fear since with whatever remaining reason he could command he knew a tiger was a tiger. And however small it may be, it was still big for him. He knew that come a fight he could not match it and death was written on his fate that night. The fear was coming back to Amol and he was incoherently mumbling something from his mouth and the spit was dribbling down his chin. His eyes had become round and enlarged and there seemed to be a continuous droning in his ears and each sound around him seemed to be getting amplified a thousand times over. He got to his feet again and with one glance at the tiger he started running towards a tree. He hopefully could climb the tree and take refuge there until morning away from those massive jaws and the powerful paws of the tiger. The tree was a little far away and Amol started running faster to make sure he could reach it before the tiger. He had hardly taken some ten to fifteen paces when he saw a blurred flash pass him and in a moment he saw the tiger itself going full tilt at the tree. Amol slowed down with this since he saw the tiger now sitting under the tree in the same manner as it was in the path just a couple of minutes ago. It was looking directly at Amol   with a quizzical look. It was almost as if it was asking Amol how it had outsmarted him, thinking what he had been thinking - to take shelter on the tree. At this point Amol was distraught and decided to take a path to the left which was the longer trail to Maunpuri but it had more trees allowing him to attempt to climb some to hopefully get away from this beastly tiger. Confident that this was the right option Amol started sprinting down the left trail. Looking back he saw the tiger also sprinting. The fear that was consuming Amol went up a couple of notches on seeing that. The beautiful sight of the tiger, the magnificent animal that it was, running at full tilt in the moonlight, sometimes with all four legs off the ground, was lost on Amol. The tiger was almost upon Amol by now since the distance between them had lessened and it was getting ready to leap on Amol while in full flight. Amol could only take a glance back at the tiger with its front paws outstretched towards him, the head held high, the jaws open and roaring now, the back legs curled up close to its stomach after having given the momentum for the jump. It was too much for Amol and his heart gave way. He collapsed almost vertically, dead before he hit the ground. The tiger was stunned at this and having gone past Amol turned back. He came back and nuzzled Amol, buffed him this side and that. But Amol was not moving. He was dead to the world and the tiger. The tiger made no attempt to bite Amol since as it came out later he was hardly a year old. It was Amol’s fear and the moonlight that had made him seem big. The young tiger had not yet been up to killing his prey and he was after Amol for the thrill of the chase. But how was Amol to know that? The last of the Pandavas of Maunpuri perished in this manner to the tiger.

The villagers found Amol’s body the next day. They were surprised that there was not a single mark on the body but there were lot of tiger pugmarks around and the trail of these led right up to near the pond.

Note:

This story was inspired by the following excerpts:

a. That were carried in the book – Pigeons to Post: Book on India Post and History of Indian Postal Services by Steve Borgia, Published by Indeco Leisure Hotels Pvt Ltd.(pas) (2011) , Cover Price: Rs.5000. Available at Rs. 4,500 @ flipkart.com.

Quote : Foot Runners: ‘Dak’ runners/ Harkara. Horse Dawk, started by first Sultan of Delhi, Qutb-ud-din Aybak, then Camel Dawk introduced by Akbar, Catamaran Mailman- mainly used in the backwater region of Bengal and South India, mainly Kerala, Mail Carriage, considered as a major milestone in the evolution of Postal Services, Bullock cart Mail and Bullock cart train, Rail Mail, Sea Mail and Postman Cycle that continues to be the best ally of the postman till now. UnQuote

b. That appeared in the Webpage: http://archiver.rootsweb.ancestry.com/th/read/INDIA-BRITISH-RAJ/2005-08/1124349277

Quote a.. In 1854 a regular "Bhangy Post" was established and opened to the Public. The named derived from the bamboo stick or bhangy which an Indian carrier balances on this shoulder with the weights slung at each end. The weight was restricted to 600 tolas(15 lbs. or 6.8 Kg). The railways were just being introduced (1852) so the mail was generally delivered on foot. Many of the mail runners or 'hirkaras' as they were known were devoured by man-eating tigers. Unquote

THE END

The Devi Shakti

It had been raining heavily for the last three days. Deep in the jungle the sound of the incessant rain drowned the normal sounds. In the ruins of the devi-temple the rain was playing havoc crumbling the already collapsed lime and mortar structure. Added to that the stream flowing nearby had burst its banks and had flooded the temple. The water from the stream was lapping the steps leading to the garbagudi – the sanctum sanctorum, though it had not yet breached the lintel of the door. The devi standing in black granite carved with an elaborate sari and holding her assorted shastras – weapons in her four hands signified shakti – power. Even through this incessant rain, some faithful devotee had come and spread sindoor on the devi’s forehead and put a beautiful red hibiscus flower on her head. That is faith, one would presume. The devotee who had come must have had some courage considering that over the week before the rains had started some of the villagers had seen a tigress near the temple. The tigress was not alone but had two grown cubs with her. 

The rain was growing in intensity as it was getting dark. Occasionally the sky would light up irregularly with the jagged streaks of lighting flashing across it. In that eerie blue light the ruins of the temple would get highlighted and the sight was enough to frighten any ordinary heart. After the lightning the majestic roll of thunder would follow through, almost in unison scaring the animals in the jungle out of their wits. This thunderstorm seemed to be particularly strong. And it had been going on for about an hour. The lightning was getting stronger and the sound of the thunder louder as it reverberated across the skies. The jagged streaks of lightning were getting sharper and like arrowheads coming closer and closer to the wet earth. Krack! There that strike was near. And then suddenly there was a lightning bolt which fell directly on the roof of the garbagudi. If there had been anyone standing nearby they would have surely got blinded. With that strike the domed roof gave way and cracked almost right through the middle, a jagged gash running along the dome. The structure of the garbagudi also buckled and tilted towards one side. The thunder that followed was equally deafening.  And then there was silence. The devi though still remained standing and erect. Nothing seemed to have affected her repose.  

The rain stopped a few days later and when a villager came that way he saw what had happened to the temple after the storm. He was shocked to see its condition. The roof of the garbagudicould give way any moment, it seemed. There was already some debris of masonry hanging precariously over the devi. Something had to be done. He went back to the sarpanch in the village and told him that it was best to move the devi from the present ruins. If the devi was located outside the jungle and closer to the village then it would be more convenient and safer for villagers to visit the temple, what with tiger sightings now and then near the ruins now. 

But the question remained, would the devi like to be moved? The sarpanch though that such questions were best left to the purohit – village priest. However, there was no disputing that thedevi should be moved. He would get together with the other two villages in the vicinity and in consultations with the purohits also, get an auspicious day decided and move the devi out of the jungle. So everything went smoothly. Considering the urgency that the dilapidated structure of the temple in the jungle should not collapse on the devi, the idol was moved to a temporary structure just outside the jungle so that it was convenient to all the three villages. It had been decided that a regular temple would be built there with contributions from the villagers. There was only one thing that had bothered the villagers in the actual process of shifting the devi ‘s idol. As the idol was lifted while initially only three villagers were required, there were ten needed while carrying the idol out and installing it at the temporary location. The villagers who were actually involved in lifting the idol said that the idol as it was coming out of the jungle became heavier and heavier and even though towards the end with ten of them, it was still very difficult for them to carry the devi. 

It was a few months after the devi had been moved out of the jungle that the first tiger killing happened. An elderly woman who had gone into the jungle late afternoon to collect firewood never came back. Her family the next morning when they went looking for her found tell-tale signs of bloodstains and remnants of her sari stuck to the thorny bushes. Assuming that the tiger must have killed her they came back. In another couple of weeks there were two more killings but further afield. Now it was very difficult for the group of villages in Mayapur to lead a normal life. And then there was another killing. Anyone venturing out early mornings or late afternoons was being attacked. There had already been four killings. In two of the cases the bodies had not been located. But in the other two the mutilated, mauled and partially eaten bodies were brought back. It was suspected that these attacks were the handiwork of a tiger straying down from the hills at the back of the villages. But surprisingly the tiger had killed only women till now. It was almost as if it could sense the gender of its victims. But even then none of the men and boys went out unless it was absolutely necessary and that too in groups for safety.  

And then there was news from Vartani, the village closest to the hills, that another woman who had gone for her morning ablutions never came back. When the family started looking for her a few hours later, all that they found was a partially eaten body near the stream. It was suspected that the tiger was waiting by the stream early in the morning for someone to turn up. The unfortunate woman had become the tiger’s fifth victim. Everyone was talking that it must have been the same tiger.  There had been a fully formed pugmark near the woman’s body since the ground near the stream was soft. Someone from the village, who knew something about these things, had taken a drawing of the pugmark and also a cast in lime to verify with the Forest Dept. They had already some casts of earlier pugmarks that they had taken from the previous kills. 

The Forest Department, as they said, was seized of the matter. With four kills in this area of about ten square miles in the last two months, the Forest Range Officer had already asked for a professional hunter to track down and kill the tiger. The predator would be hunted down since the priority for the Forest Department was to save human lives. This latest killing would only add to the urgency to eliminate the tiger. But the frequent kills and the fact that the tiger was killing only women had generated rumours that the devi was not happy with the villagers.

Ajay Singh, the noted tiger hunter was expected the next day at Vartani. He would come and meet the sarpanch and the other people in the village to work out a plan to hunt down the tiger. The hunter would normally come with a team of trackers from the Forest Department but would depend on people from the village to guide him since they would have more knowledge of the land.  And then depending on how the hunt went there could be need for more men to act as beaters combing the fields with tin drums and whatever instruments they could lay their hands on to make noise with and force the tiger towards where the hunter would lay in wait. But all this would be after the tiger had been sighted.  

Ajay Singh’s reputation preceded him. He was a devout man and never known to start a hunt without doing the puja to his deity that he carried a small idol of. After the puja he would put a teeka - long vertical streak of vermilion and turmeric, right in the middle of his forehead disappearing into the royal turban that he invariably wore. The teeka appeared to split Ajay Singh’s forehead in two continuing down his aquiline nose. His eyes were normally mild with the skin crinkly at the ends. They would quickly turn to steel when the need arose. He was a beefy man, broad at the shoulders with well-built arms and known to have carried two goats tucked under his armpits for miles when challenged by someone to prove his strength. He had a booming voice, born to ordering one would have thought and when the chips were down he brooked no argument. His laugh was as hearty as his appetite though out on a machan he could starve for days while waiting for his prey.  The number of tigers that he had killed around the country was at the heart of his legend. He had done it all, killed tigers and also some leopards from machans, on trees, in the bush, near the watering holes, wherever. Once a tiger that he had shot jumped on him when he bent down to verify if it was dead, though it had been injured quite seriously,. Ajay Singh was said to have swerved out of the way of the pouncing tiger, drawn his pistol from the holster at his waist and killed it with just one shot. That too right in the middle of the forehead of the tiger. 

He told the sarpanch at Vartani that there seemed to be only one tiger responsible for the kills. He also asked for some ten men from the village to beat the tiger out of the bush. They would start the next morning at dawn. Thus the hunt for the man-eater of Mayapur had begun. The rains had ended and the weather was taking a turn for the cool evenings and mornings. But the middle of the day was hot. Ajay Singh thought he would start from where reports of the tiger sightings had come. And this was near the ruins of the devi temple in the jungle. The stream at which the last killing had taken place was hardly half a mile from the temple. The reports had been that a full grown tigress had been seen near the temple with her two grown cubs. Could she be the one responsible for all these killings? The first few days were fruitless with no signs of the tigress or her cubs. Ajay Singh was getting a bit peeved with this. When a hunt was on he would want to finish it quickly and move on. But then he did not lack patience. After a couple of days he ordered that a machan should be built for him to give a clear sight of the ruins of the temple in the jungle. 

Ajay Singh was getting a bit weary. Three nights in a row he had spent on the machan. All these nights were those leading up to the full moon. Assuming that the weather would be dry he had chosen these days so that if the tiger appeared then he had good visibility to at least take a shot at it. All three nights were quiet except for the nocturnal noises of the jungle. No tiger. Ajay Singh decided to persist for another night. The reason for this was that there had been reports of a tiger sighting near another village nearby. It was the same tigress with her two cubs who were found near a thicket of bamboo. Lolling in the shade and had disappeared when they had seen the villager. 

Ajay Singh had an early dinner and proceeded to the machan. Today it was the poornima or full moon day. The evening was quiet and somewhat cool. He was hoping that the tigress would at least surface today.  He checked his rifles. He always kept two. Just in case one jammed, he could quickly reach out for the other one. Reaching the tree where the machan had been built, he told his attendants to tie the goat that they were using as bait near the temple and return to the village. Climbing the rope ladder he settled down into the machan and made himself comfortable. Comfort in position and peace of mind was critical in being able to hold a rifle barrel steady. Ajay Singh was full of both that night. The jungle sounds were the usual. That of insects persistent with their interrupted but random cacophony. There was the occasional call of some monkeys. But as the night progressed you could hear in the distance the hooting of an owl. The poor goat that was being used as bait must have somehow sensed its fate since off and on it merged its plaintive cries with that of the jungle. Ajay Singh recorded the sound of these patterns in his mind. As a hunter he knew that he had to keep his ears alert for the sounds that were not part of the regular pattern. That would be the sign of the intruder coming into the jungle around him. Moreover whenever you had the larger animals like the tiger come by the other members of the animal kingdom after the initial flutter of warning sounds kept a respectful silence. 

It was past midnight and Ajay Singh’s sleepy head had been lolling down, when he heard the crackle of the undergrowth just below his trees. The shuffle and rustle of the leaves continued. Peering down Ajay Singh could see nothing. It was dark there and the moonlight could not penetrate the foliage. However, Ajay Singh could make out some moving shadows which were low on the ground. The shadows were moving towards the temple quite unhurriedly it seemed. Ajay Singh was hoping that the shadows would move further towards the temple since it was more of open ground. There was also more light there and he would be able to see better. The goat tied down was frantic since it must have sensed danger and was bleating loudly and pitifully. There was a snap of some twigs near the machan tree and then Ajay Singh’s heart jumped for joy. His sleep was all gone. Because right in front of him approaching the goat was the full grown tigress. And behind her almost as if they were escorts were the one year old cubs, on her right and left, but a couple of paces behind her. The tigress was a magnificent animal. Muscular and strong she must have been between three and four years old standing about threefeet high and at least ten to twelve feet in length. With a large head and an inquisitive face, she had stopped before she reached the goat. She was looking around for she probably thought that this seemed to be too easy a kill. She looked at her cubs and gave a guttural growl. This sent the goat to higher octaves of high pitched bleating. The tigress then turned around and looked at Ajay Singh or that is what he thought since the tigress was looking up directly at him in themachan. But Ajay Singh was sure she would not be able to see him because of the overhanging branches. She would not have picked up his scent also because he was downwind to her now. Satisfied that there was no danger the tigress turned and looked at the goat which by now was straining at the rope with which it was tied to the stake in the ground and wailing all the time. 

Ajay Singh thought that this was his moment. He could get a shoulder shot just behind the left foreleg. That should be enough to get a direct kill. The only problem was with the cubs, if they strayed in between. They were now slowly following their mother warily approaching the goat. This was the moment Ajay Singh decided. The tigress was poised over the goat. He took a deep breath and steadied the rifle. He would get just one shot. There would be no time for a second and with the sound of the rifle the three tigers would disappear into the shrubbery in a trice. That is, if he missed. So Ajay Singh knew that he needed to make that first shot count. He locked on to the tigress with his night sniper scope and got his sights firmed on the point where the bullet should pierce the big cat. It was now or never with the tigress bending over the goat. Ajay Singh started squeezing the trigger slowly.  But suddenly an image of a devi flooded the sights on his sniper scope and Ajay Singh was flustered. He pulled the trigger fully none-the-less but he knew that he had missed. Looking down he saw the tigers escaping into the shrubbery on the far side of the temple. The goat was strangely silent now maybe not wanting to believe its luck on surviving not one, not two but three tigers. 

Ajay Singh collected his equipment from the machan and dejectedly climbed down. He had missed this time. But he was convinced that it was not his fault. How had that strange image of the devi flooded the sights on his sniper scope? That was the only reason that he had missed, he convinced himself.

But there was not much time to lose since they needed to rouse the villagers and by dawn they had to get the encircling party ready to drive the tigers back towards the temple ruins. When he reached Vartani, he roused the sarpanch and told him what had happened and that he would need some fifty men from the village to accompany him at dawn. It was still about two hours for the sun to rise. He then sent two of his attenders to the other villages below Vartani with advice that fifty more men from each village would be required for the drive against the tigers, to lead them back to the temple ruins in the jungle. His attenders had radio telephones and would co-ordinate with him. Ajay Singh had planned this out and it better work this time. He himself with the villagers spread on either side of him at fifty feet intervals would converge from Vartani onto the temple. While the other hundred men from the other two villages downhill, in similar fashion would drive the tigers towards Ajay Singh. Hopefully it would be possible for him to get a perfect shot this time.

It was getting light slowly. There was the early morning mist around. But it would disappear as the sun rose. The villagers had collected with anything that they could lay their hands on and which would make noise. Regular drums, tin drums, cans, cymbals, brass plates and what have you, made up the motley orchestra. This would be enough to scare the tigers. They could not have travelled far in the few hours that had passed since Ajay Singh had seen them in the jungle. The beaters from the other two villages would thus be able to move them back towards the temple ruins.  The half-light of the morning was getting brighter and visibility was improving. Ajay Singh gave the green signal to move. He had stationed two of his other attenders at the extremities of the beater chain accompanying him. 

Immediately the villagers started beating on their drums and other contraptions. The din was tremendous. At a steady but slow pace the beater line started moving. Over the walkie-talkie Ajay Singh could hear the driving line of the beaters from the other two villages also moving forward.  It was some sight to see with the villagers walking through the brush and a steady line of sound advancing towards the temple ruins. For the villagers it was fun. But there had been occasional instances in earlier hunts where the tiger insane with fear had attacked and killed some of the unarmed villagers. But then those were the risks that they had to take. Having a man-eating tiger on the loose near the villages was not the acceptable alternative.

Ajay Singh thought that the tigers had no chance now. He checked his rifles again. Both of them. Just in case he had to use either. And slung one of them back on his shoulder, while holding the other half-cocked aimed at the ground and thumping against his right leg as he settled into a comfortable gait. 

His two attenders sent to the lower two villages called on the walkie-talkie saying that there were no signs of the tigers yet. This would mean probably that the tigers from the temple ruins had gone towards the stream.  Ajay Singh thought that this would mean that the beaters on his right should see something very shortly. That is if he was lucky. He himself was walking down a path which led directly to the temple ruins. He was alert all the while, not wanting to take any chances after the previous night’s fiasco. Apart from the fact that the tigress needed to be killed, his reputation was at stake. The villagers would talk saying that even Ajay Singh had missed. Mulling these thoughts, Ajay Singh was a bit distracted, what also with the lack of sleep the night before. He jerked back to his senses when from his far right he could hear the screams of – ‘Baagh!! Baagh!!’ At least he was in luck, Ajay Singh thought.  

The light had improved and the path in front of Ajay Singh was reasonably well-lit. The noise made by the beaters drowned the noises of the jungle. Therefore there was no possibility that Ajay Singh would hear of any movement in the jungle around him. It was only when the tigers came in sight that he would know that he was upon them or they upon him! He smiled wryly at the thought. The rifle that was loosely held in his hand and aimed at the ground, had been lifted halfway up and aligned to aim at the path ahead of him. By reflex, upon the first cries of the sighting of the tigers, Ajay Singh had instinctively tightened his grip on the rifle. He was moving forward looking both on his left and right but with the dense undergrowth there was not much point since he was not able to see anything more than the foliage and the brush. It would not be long now, something inside him said. The tigers had to appear. And as if by providential coincidence, he saw the tigress bounding across a bush and turning to face him on the path, directly in front of him. It was the same animal with which he had had the encounter the previous night. The cubs were not with her but they must be nearby. 

The tigress in front of him was truly a magnificent animal. In the daylight now her colours were more prominent and she was just some twenty feet ahead of him. She looked at him squarely with her tail swishing about this way and that. As soon as something had moved across the bush Ajay Singh had brought up his rifle to shoulder height. His fingers curled up around the trigger. The stock firmly stuck into his right shoulder and his right cheek against the stock and the cool barrel of the rifle. His eyes were aligned with the sights for aiming the rifle. The tigress held her position continuing to swish its tail with a low growl coming out of her salivating jaws. Ajay Singh knew that he had the tigress now. This time there would be no escape. Though his heart was thumping, Ajay Singh took a deep breath and aimed squarely at the middle of the tigress’ forehead. He started squeezing the trigger slowly to release his shot. When! Look! Wait! There was no tigress but the devi there, dressed up in red bridal finery, resplendent in her ornaments and jewellery, standing where the tigress had been. Ajay Singh knew it was too late. He could do nothing now. The hammer of the trigger had already hit the bullet by this time and it was flying steady and true towards the devi. Aimed at the tigress’ forehead it would have hit the devi just above the waist. But then seeing the devi appear before him at the last instant, Ajay Singh had closed his eyes hoping that he would miss again. But that was not to be since the rifle barrel had involuntarily jerked upwards, releasing the bullet which caught the devi in the chest. For a fraction of a second the devi looked down at her chest unbelievingly watching the gushing blood of the tigress flow. She then collapsed to the ground. All this had happened in that instant of time when Ajay Singh had shut his eyes. When he opened them again the tigress was there sprawled across the jungle path – dead. 

Ajay Singh collapsed on the path crying inconsolably and mumbling – ‘What have I done? What made me commit such a sin?’ When the first beaters found him he was kneeling near the carcass of the tiger with his eyes raised to the skies and his cheeks awash with tears, muttering something to himself. 

Many months passed after that and there were ballads made and sung about how Ajay Singh had killed the maneater of Mayapur.  Along with this there were other stories doing the rounds of the villages in Mayapur about how the tigress had been staying in the jungle temple before the devi had been moved, frolicking in the ruins with her two cubs.  The makeshift structure under which the devi had been placed outside the jungle no more housed her. Because after Ajay Singh had related his experience to the villagers while killing the tigress, the villages of Mayapur decided to re-build the jungle temple and re-installed the devi back there. No one, it seems, was keen to have the wrath of the devi on their heads.

THE END

The Tiger Who Came To Stay

It was when Abol heard that soft rustle in the leaves behind him that he knew that the tiger was almost upon him. There was nothing that he could do since it was all shrubland around him. Not a tree in sight that he could climb and take shelter. It was also dusk and the light would fade in about half an hour. Once it became dark it would be only easier for the tiger to attack him. But then he had to find a solution. He could not just give up and die. He was young just entering his twenties. And then who would take care of Ammi - his beloved wife whom he had married just about two years ago. She was very devoted to him. She better be since he had won her fair and square from other suitors in their tribe who had been vying for her hand. After their marriage Abol had built the small thatched hut for them at the edge of the village. It was near but gave them privacy since it was on the other side of a grove of trees. Life had been so happy for them and Abol thought that Ammi would not have anything to complain about. But if the tiger devoured him now, what would happen to Ammi? Who would look after her? She could go back to her father in the village. But Abol felt that she may not do that. There, again, that rustle. It was nearer now!

Abol was thinking that among his tribe there was not a single family where at least one person had not been killed by a tiger.  Someone would have gone in the morning or evening for nature’s call and you would find suddenly screams coming from the jungle. By the time the villagers rushed with flaming torches and tin cans to drive the tiger away, they would find no one there but for a trail of blood smearing the dried leaves on the ground. The tiger would have dragged its victim deep into the bushes where none of the villagers dared enter. There had been reports of a tiger sighting a few days earlier near their village. But even then Abol had gone into the forest as usual to collect firewood.  If he could manage to go another half a kilometer then there was a devrai - sacred grove of trees, where he could take shelter on one of the trees for the night. The spirits of the devrai would also protect him, he thought, from the tiger. The spirits as he had been brought up to believe were very powerful and it was they who made sure that everything in their village remained normal, the harvests good and no major disease or epidemic affected the village.  With these thoughts Abol increased his pace. He also decided to throw away the load of firewood that he was carrying on his head lest it slow him down. 

He had to reach the devrai, somehow! Otherwise he would surely end up as dinner in the tiger’s stomach. He remembered his father telling him that the spirits of the devrai would look after you, if you trusted them fully. So his father had said, that if at any time you are in any serious trouble, whether physical or mental, ask the spirits for protection or a solution to your problem. But once they ask you to do something you should faithfully follow it since otherwise the very purpose is defeated and you will not be entertained the next time by the spirits. Abol mumbled a silent entreaty to the spirits of the devrai to save him from the tiger and help him reach home.  There was a turn in the path ahead and then the devrai was hardly another half a furlong. He was almost there. Please, God! Please, devrai spirit! Save me! Save me now! Abol was on the top of the turn and could see the devrai in the distance now. He was almost there.  Abol started off now on a run for the devrai remembering the small shrine that was at its heart. The deity was the guardian spirit of the devrai and ruled over all the other spirits as Abol remembered from his father telling him. She would definitely save him. With this thought Abol felt a strange calm come over him. Relief streamed through his body and cooled him down as if he had just taken a dip in the cool waters of the gurgling stream in the jungle.  

Abol broke into a dash now. In the hurry, he failed to see the roots of a tree across the path and went sprawling on to the ground. That is why possibly he did not hear the tiger pounce on him from across his left shoulder. Unsighted and confused and with the added weight of the tiger on his back Abol was slow in taking out the scythe that was hitched at his waist.  Otherwise Abol, strapping lad that he was, could have possibly given a fight to the tiger.  But with the right paw of the tiger holding him down and the left on his head Abol could hardly move. He yelled – ‘I will get even with you on this. The spirits of the devrai will help me. You will regret eating me!’  The last Abol remembered were the fangs of the tiger sinking into the back of his neck. With the neck mauled badly death came quickly to Abol.  

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Ammi was waiting for Abol to return. Whenever he went out, he was always back before evening. It was rare for him to be so late.  He was also not of the habit of staying back at the sura-vend, the country liquor shop in the village. She had made him his favourite lentil curry which he would slurp with the ragi – millet balls. It was dark now and she had lit the oil lantern. That would guide him to the house. Though the hut was at the edge of the village she was notafraid because Abol was always around and more so after dusk. Where could he have gone today? When he left after lunch he had said that he was just going into the jungle to fetch some firewood. Though sometimes he would dawdle if he had to get some medicinal plant or bark for the ayurvedic vaidya in the village. Abol was well paid for these errands and he had a knack to know where these plants were. Ammi was proud of her husband for this work that he was doing to help the vaidya. It was almost like him being the doctor to the villagers. Also it got Abol to talk to the respectable people and not while away his time with the other men drinking or gambling. It was very dark now and Abol was still not back. What could she do? Should she go across to her father’s place and ask him to send one of her brothers to go out and look for Abol?Or should she wait for some more time? 

Ammi decided to wait but to keep herself busy; she got some dried palm fronds into a bunch which she could light and use as a torch to go into the village where her father’s hut was.  Ammi had hardly finished tying the fronds together at the base when she heard some movement in the bushes on the right of her hut. She looked in that direction and called out – ‘Abol? Abol?’ There was no answer. She went into the hut for matches with which to light the torch. At least with some more light she could see what was happening around the hut.  If it was Abol playing the fool, she would give him an earful. This was not the time for fun, particularly in the evening and when there had been talk in the last week of tiger sightings. Ammi lit the torch and in the process of holding it high to see in the direction of the bushes, she again called out – ‘Abol! Abol! Don’t make fun now. I am not in the mood. It is also late and dark. Come out now. Stop this tom-foolery!’ 

By this time the flaming torch was held aloft high over her head throwing a red, flickering glow onto the bushes. And what did Ammi see? A tiger standing by the bushes looking at her with blinking eyes, licking its chops and swishing its tail. The tiger was hardly ten feet away from Ammi and with this sight she was transfixed.  Completely frozen! The tiger must have been three to four years old, magnificent  animal about four feet high, with the stripes of yellow and gold alternatively prominent in the eerie light of the flaming torch, the tail about four feet swishing around and eyes the size of massive gemstones looking at her now unblinkingly, set in a massive head. Ammi could neither scream nor move. Strangely she was not feeling scared even though the tiger was so near. It could have attacked her in a trice and she would not have been able to run into the hut and shut the door. The tiger was also not moving from its position but for the swishing of the tail. Both Ammi and the tiger held their positions for about five minutes and then suddenly the tiger turned around and disappeared into the bushes.  Ammi dropped the flaming torch on the ground and rushed into the hut and shut the door. Her heart was thumping. Where was Abol? He was needed now. Ammi was scared. There had never been a tiger who had come so near to the village up to now. She could also not go out knowing that the tiger was nearby. By this time the horror of the encounter with the tiger started dawning on Ammi. She was trembling now and a cold sweat was breaking out over her body. Ammi started sobbing quietly saying - ‘Abol! Abol!’ But Abol was not there to hear her cries.

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The next day was the same story. There was no Abol. But late in the afternoon hearing some noise outside the hut, Ammi came out to look at what was around. She found a tiger standing at almost the same place she had seen the earlier one the previous day. It was just standing there. Not doing anything. It somehow did not look again threatening to Ammi. So she did not do anything. Just stood there and watched it just as it was looking her over. It stood there for quite a long time Ammi thought and then vanished into the bushes just as it had done yesterday. Ammi breaking out of her reverie not sure whether all this was a dream, was even thinking of pinching herself to make sure she was awake, thought that it had looked like the same tiger that had come yesterday. Moreover how many tigers could there be in one jungle, so it must be the same one, she thought. 

The coming of the tiger put paid to Ammi’s plans to visit her father in the village and report that Abol was missing. She did not want to end up in the tiger’s stomach by venturing out. She passed her time in the hut puttering here and there and went through the day. The next day around mid-morning she heard something pawing at her door. After sighting the tiger on two consecutive days, Ammi had decided to keep the door closed even in the daytime. Thinking that it was Abol, Ammi rushed to the door and flung it open. Something furry and an apparition in black and gold brushed past her into the hut. The scream that was rising in Ammi’s throat was choked as she realized that it was a tiger that had come into her hut. The tiger came in and then lay down curled up near the open chulla – hearth almost exactly at the same place where Abol would sit to have his food. Ammi was nonplussed. She did not know what to do. Silently all the prayers she knew were cascading through her mind. But nothing was coming out of her throat. She seemed to have lost her voice. As for the tiger it was licking itself clean like an overgrown cat. Again the tiger did not seem to be threatening Ammi at all. After some time Ammi thinking that if she could make for the door, she could go out and shut it with the tiger inside. Then she could run down to the village and get help. With that in mind as soon as she started sidling her way towards the door the tiger responded with a low growl. That was enough for Ammi who promptly sat down with her chin touching her knees, legs hunched up and with her hands on her face to avoid looking at the tiger. Occasionally she would spread her fingers and peek at the tiger and found it stretched out with its head on the ground looking all the more comfortable as time progressed. An hour must have passed when the tiger suddenly got up and with a glance at Ammi went out of the hut. Ammi ran to the door but by the time she had got there the tiger had once again disappeared into the bushes. This was getting to be too much. Ammi wished that someone from the village could come to look for her or Abol through whom she could send a message for help or return to her father’s place until Abol came back. But strangely now she was more comfortable with the tiger and was not in so much fear of it. 

The next day Ammi was more daring and went about her chores as usual longing for Abol. Thinking about him was a constant thing for her. It was more in the nature of worries now. What could have happened to Abol? Why had he not come home? The thought that maybe he had abandoned her also flitted through Ammi’s mind. But then Abol was not that kind of a man. Moreover Ammi was sure that he was in love with her. With these thoughts troubling her mind Ammi was washing some clothes at the corner of the clearing when something bumped into her from the back. Looking back she saw it was the tiger. She jumped and stood up straight looking away since she now knew that her end was near. But the tiger did not do anything. Strangely it came near her and brushed past her with an arched back and a swishing tail with which it slapped Ammi after passing. The tiger’s behavior was just like a cat. And it was the same tiger. Ammi knew by now to look at the pattern of black and gold stripes to know that the same animal had visited her the last two days. Even then a tiger was a tiger and Ammi dropped the wet clothes where they were and rushed into the hut. Bounding after her the tiger also entered the hut before Ammi could slam the door shut. It went back to its position near the hearth where Abol would sit for his food. After cleaning itself for a while, the tiger stretched itself out as if for a nap and then in about an hour’s time, again it left. 

This became the routine for Ammi every day after that, the interval of play with the tiger. It would come close sometimes and look at Ammi who by then would have her eyes tightly shut or in the small hut it would drop something to the ground and then in mock alarm jump out of the way. It would then stand absolutely still with its head cocked towards Ammi with a quizzical look on its face or that is what Ammi thought. Ammi was getting used to having the tiger around but then it was keeping her caged in the hut.  The second week things became different and one day the tiger pulled her by her sari to go out. Ammi initially resisted but not knowing how to free herself she went along into the bushes. In the hurry her sari had become somewhat undone and once into the bushes she stopped to wind it around herself. But the tiger it seemed had other ideas and it was pulling more of the sari off Ammi. In that interplay of snatching her sari back and patting the tiger, Ammi had also got used by now to touching the animal. She let out a pealing laugh at her growing confidence around the tiger. 

The days after that were idyllic for Ammi. She went out with the tiger. Sometimes gamboling with him in the clearing. Sometimes riding on his back. The tiger Ammi felt was always very careful not to hurt her. Strangely she felt that the tiger was now like a family member. When she was with it thoughts of Abol also did not enter her mind. It was almost as if Abol was there playing with her, guarding over her, protecting her. The second week thus passed for Ammi in heady state of happiness with the tiger.

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The villagers got to see less and less of Ammi in that fortnight or so the villagers thought. She would normally come once in a while to fetch something or other from the grocer’s shop. Strangely even Abol was missing.  The village vaidya had also sent word through someone to ask Ammi whether Abol had brought the medicinal plants he had asked for. But when the villager reached Ammi’s hut, it seemed as if no one was there. The villager came back and told the vaidya that. He also said that he had heard some rustling in the bushes and the high-pitched laugh of a woman but not daring to investigate he had returned. More sightings of the tiger near the village had also not been reported. And but for Ammi & Abol no one was missing from the village. However, there had been reports of tiger sightings near another village about five miles away but up in the hills. It had also killed some calves and a man it was said. The government through the Forest Department had sent their hunter to kill the man-eater. The hunter with his team could come to their village. This had been advised to the sarpanch. The hunter came the next day to their village reporting that near the stream in the jungle the previous morning the hunter had shot at a tiger. He was not able to kill it but the hunter was sure that he had wounded it. Considering that a wounded tiger was more dangerous they had come to warn that the wounded animal could stray into their village. 

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Suddenly the next evening close to sunset there was a commotion in the village. A villager had come in, running – ‘Fire! Fire! Abol’s hut is on fire!’ People started pouring out of their houses running to Abol’s hut with whatever implements they could carry to beat the fire down. They collected aghast in the small circle that Abol had cleared in front of their hut from the forest. For in the centre of that circle lay a full blown tiger, supine and with its tail stretched. Blood was coming out from near its right shoulder spreading on the ground where it lay. The hut behind was fully on fire now and could not be saved. But from the flames Ammi was coming out afire with the flames already licking her hair and the red wedding sari that she was wearing. As some of the villagers said the margin in her hair and her forehead was smeared with sindoor. Her eyes had a strange but determined look in them. And surprisingly even though she was on fire not a cry escaped her lips. She walked out slowly but deliberately and knelt near the tiger, put her hands together in a namaskar and slowly lay down upon the tiger covering as much of its body with hers. The smell of burning flesh that of Ammi’s and of the tiger filled the clearing and some of the villagers turned away, to go back to their houses in the village. No one that day ventured to save Ammi from the flames. The hut was completely burnt down. The only question on the lips of the villagers was – Where was Abol?

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It was many months after Ammi’s flaming pyre had reduced to ashes that the story escaped to the towns and city nearby. There were many who came, curious to know what had happened. Abol was never found. But the legend of Ammi and the tiger grew with one or the other villager relating to the reporters and the TV journalists, his real-life experience in having seen them together. Some said that that they had seen Ammi with the tiger in the stream splashing water on each other and wrestling in the water. While others said that like the Goddess Shakti they had seen Ammi astride the tiger running full tilt. Ammi was wearing the red wedding sari and her full hair was streaming behind her blowing in the wind. Some said that Abol must have been eaten by the tiger and took over its spirit and that is why it came to Ammi and did not harm her. But no one dared venture near Ammi’s hut and its burnt remains. The clearing in front of the hut was slowly taken over by the jungle in a few years. The legend of Ammi, the tiger & Abol also faded from memory and slowly the villagers of Khurwanda went about their normal lives.

THE END