Leopard marks

It was towards the end of the monsoon and beginning of winter when we cousins decided to take a break and stay with our grandparents. Towards the dusk of their lives, old people start to feel lonely. They feel like they have had a roller coaster ride in a jiffy and they didn’t get time to soak life in themselves. It’d be kind of us youth to give them company and share our excitement in life with them. By doing so, they feel less alienated by the world and they look forward to the rest of their lives. They feel they’re being treated as a part of us youth and there is nothing to refute that. We all shared this view and besides, we needed a break from our regular studies.

Our grandparents live in the forest ranges of Nallamala near the Orissa- Andhra Pradesh border, in a village called Tekkali. Tekkali is a beautiful place. A soul polluted with anxiety, trauma, stress, misery and drudgery can be cleansed and rejuvenated with high spirits there. The house is on the top of a hill. The village itself is spread over 3 hills close to each other. The thick forest cover makes it seem a very remote place on earth. Four of such souls as mentioned above (us cousins) and our grandparents were sitting outside the house on a dark evening with a gentle, warming fire at the centre.

“It is ridiculous if in such times and this age people still believe in ghosts!” said Rahul, who was the oldest amongst us cousins. With a contorted facial expression, I (the second oldest) nodded my head in a way to suggest, “Of course! Isn’t it understood that it is ridiculous? Whoever even believes in ghosts?” The others – Vinit and Surya – too agreed. I started wondering how so smoothly we stumbled upon this topic starting from discussion on topics in physics. Physics, in turn, was preceded by Table Tennis (Ping Pong), as our topic. It was I, who was explaining how chops and smashes work. When one looks back at such occasions, especially immediately after such conferences end, it isn’t surprising that people say that the Mind travels faster than light. There may not be a quantitative proof of it, but one can’t but agree as if it were a universal truth.

Take for instance our conversation. Starting with the regular sports, we traveled physics, chemistry and biology and then went across to social studies and “why humans play sports”. After wading through those, we even went to astronomy and thus extra terrestrial life in distant galaxies. It was hard, not to jump across to nearby places like aliens, parallel universes, probability and “how humans are nothing but nothing in this universe” and “how things are beyond our control often”. Chance, freak coincidences, déjà vu and here we were, talking about ghosts.

My grandfather, a retired forest officer, who was so far actively participating, interested in our topics, airing his views on occasions, stopped suddenly. My grandmother, who was listening to us all, with the pride that grandmothers feel about their smart grandchildren, grew grim. He had a grave look, contributed to by his furrowed face. “You haven’t seen life!” he exclaimed, as one of his eyebrows rose, as if to ask, “Do you want to challenge my statement?” Surya, the youngest cousin, couldn’t wait for him to continue his speech at his pace. “Maybe we haven’t. But what is wrong with what we said? There is no scientific…” he said, and was about to continue saying that there was no proof, when grandfather raised his hand. Surya stopped and sat in silence. Vinit saw, as we all did, that grandfather had something to say. He said, “Go on taataa (grandfather in South Indian languages)! We want to hear from you.”

I nodded looking at the others, implying that no one should interrupt him. He started speaking slowly. “I was young too years ago, like you are now. I was a brave man. Your ammamma (maternal grandmother) married me for the cheerful, smart and sanguine man that I was, you see. I first came here in 1950 when I was 21. I worked in other places too, in my career, but I finally settled down here once I got married and kids were as old as you are now. Tekkali was not much touched by humans. The forest was thicker than you see now. After my qualification in the exams, I was posted here. I was excited, as much as any ambitious man, about my first job. On the hill next to ours was my office-cum-residence. It was meant for a bachelor officer.”

“Days were pleasant and calm, though generally, there was excitement about a new nation that India was that time. People were looking at things in new light. I settled down into my job quickly. I was proud of it. The villagers would treat me with great respect, as were any officer. The elders of the village always reserved a place for me in their discussions and considered my opinions before their decisions. What more could a young man ask for? It was around fall (towards the end of monsoon and beginning of winter) that I’m speaking about. This part of Andhra Pradesh receives rains mainly during winter. So it seems to be an extended monsoon here.”

He paused. We looked at each other and then him. He paused for breath. He was breathing a trifle heavier than normal. Age was definitely the reason. I could sense by merely glancing at Surya that he had, as did all of us have, something to ask. He looked at me, remembered that agreement before grandfather started and quelled that urge. We drew closer to the fire – it was getting cold and we wanted to sit closer to grandfather so that he could exert lesser than he was doing. The pause in his speech was enough to distract us and bring to our notice the occasional hoot of an owl sitting on a nearby tree. For the first time in that evening we heard the chirps of the many crickets around us. It struck me when I looked around, away from the fire, that it was otherwise a dark night. “Yes! There is no moon tonight,” I confirmed to myself, looking up. Gaining a little strength from the fact that he could grab our attention, he continued.

“Rains breathe life into forests. Trees smile and sway cheerfully. They whistle when the monsoon winds blow. Such is the charm of their vim that it infuses some energy into the birds and animals. The forest and their inhabitants are the liveliest then. In those days, unlike now, animals roamed wild around this forest range. It wasn’t that this village was unsafe because of them. They somehow roamed and lived where humans weren’t around. That would ensure their safety, which for them is the prime most matter. Yet despite precautions and our vigil, there would be an occasional incident when a wild animal would breach its limits. The consequences of such parleys aren’t unknown to us.”

“I remember, within a few months of my arriving here on my job, there was such an incident. Leopards are common in these parts of India. That time, two such leopards strayed into the nearby hills. The worry for us started when there were reports of cattle missing. Within a few hours of such reports came a big blow. One man was missing. People were sure the leopards were behind it. Surely one or both the leopards must have killed him. I too suspected the same. I had to do something about it soon. Two man eaters on the prowl didn’t augur safety for the villagers. I first told the villagers to stop traveling alone in the evenings, especially if they had to go far from the village towards those hills.” He said, pointing behind us. We looked back with a jerk, almost as if he said, “Lookout!”

“On one evening I decided to take a look and search for some leopard marks on that hill.” He said, again pointing behind us. I could see that it was not an immediately neighbouring hill. It was the second hill from the one on which our house was. Imagining myself alone at that time on that hill froze me. I shrugged off the picture of myself, lost somewhere on that hill, from my mind. “There is no guarantee of staying alive for long there,” I thought. My grandfather continued, thus helping me get back to his narration from that dreadful dream. “Leopard marks would help us know the places they could be in, their movement patterns etc. This searching had to be done in the evening. We’d start by 4pm and continue till 6pm. If we had to continue, we’d then increase the group size and carry more sticks and torches with us.”

“I sent a group of villagers to a far off place while I could have the luxury of investigating a nearby hill. I chose to go to that hill that I showed you now. We were to meet at the foot of that hill by 6pm and then decide based on each others’ experiences, what to do next. I started at the foot of that hill at about 4pm. I went up the path and searched. I went alone as that hill was least likely visited by those leopards, yet. I searched thoroughly for nearly 2 hours. It used to get dark early then, especially in this season. I concluded that the leopards hadn’t yet visited that hill. I was almost at the top of the hill. I decided it was time for me to head downwards. I started moving with long and quick steps. I was thanking my stars that it was a full moon night. It was getting very dark indeed and I at least had the moonlight to guide me. I did carry a stick, but you never know. I was walking briskly. A few minutes into my descent – I’m sure it wasn’t more than that – I heard footsteps. The sound suggested that someone was running.”

“‘Who could it be? Someone coming up to fetch me?’ I thought. I was eager to see who it was. A few tens of feet away, down the slope of the long winding path on the hill, was a fork in the path. One path led into the thick tree cover into the forest on the hill. The other led down to the foot of the hill. I was looking for who was coming up. I slowed down. I briefly saw a man running up and in a flash, making his way towards the trees on the other side of the fork. I was puzzled. ‘Strange! He doesn’t look like one of the villagers whom I sent to the other place,’ I thought. ‘It must be someone else. But why is he going inside the forest?’ I was wondering. I shouted for him and immediately ran towards him. He either didn’t hear, or he didn’t want to stop. I was worried if he saw a leopard and was trying to escape or run away from it. If that was the case, I should be doing that too as there was high chance that the beast would be somewhere nearby, on the hill. If not, it wasn’t safe to be on the hill anyway. So I wanted to stop him and ask him to go back.”

“I increased my speed. I was desperate for an answer. I didn’t have the energy to fight a leopard, or even worse, two leopards single handedly. I shouted a few more times in vain. ‘That man wants to get killed?’ I was aghast. A few minutes must have elapsed before I finally caught up with him. I wanted an answer and I would have it at any cost. I stopped him with my hand pulling back his shoulder. He stopped. He didn’t turn back. ‘Strange! Rude man!’ I was cursing him. I stepped forward and turned around to inquire about this bizarre run. As I turned to face him, I saw what I wish I hadn’t. I couldn’t look at his face because his had been deformed and looked badly scratched. A big chunk of flesh seemed torn apart from his face and the eye on that side was almost ready to pop out and hang loose from the socket. I assumed that the white thing I saw was his cheek bone. In only those few moments I even noticed paw marks and deep slashes across his chest. No man in such condition could be alive.”

“I was frozen there for how long, I can’t tell. Something in me was alive and conscious enough to make me take a start and run away from that remnant flesh mass. I ran hard. I never looked back. Not a single thought crossed my mind during that run back to the foot of the hill. Even if there did one, I didn’t remember moments later. The next thing I remember was waking up the next morning with the villagers around me, curious to know how I was feeling and why I fainted somewhere near the foot of the hill. They told me my body was burning with a high temperature for the whole night and some villagers took turn to look after me. I probably was numb and shocked, for I don’t remember being alert enough to thank them for their care. The villagers tell me that it took me nearly a week to recover from that zombie-like state I was in. I still shudder at the thought of that man or what would have happened, had these villagers not found me where I was found lying unconscious.”

He stopped. No one spoke for a few minutes. I guess no one even looked at anyone else. My grandfather looked at us one after the other, with a grin. The grin seemed to say, “Now what do you have to say? Eh?” The usually inquisitive Surya didn’t even look at my grandfather. He was staring at the fire which, after devouring the wood, was slowly dying out.

-Varun T.

This entry was posted on Sunday, September 30th, 2007 at 12:58 am and is filed under Short Stories, Varuns Block. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.