THE TIGER'S CLAW

THE man-eater's dark career was ended. The men who had laid it low were the heroes
of the day. They were garlanded with chrysanthemum flowers and seated on the arch
of the highest bullock cart and were paraded in the streets, immediately followed by
another bullock-drawn open cart, on which their trophy lay with glazed eyes
overflowing the cart on every side, his tail trailing the dust. The village suspended all
the normal activity for the day : men, women, and children thronged the highways,
pressing on with the procession, excitedly talking about the tiger. The tiger had held a
reign of terror for nearly five years, in the villages that girt Mempi forests.
We watched fascinated this scene, drifting along with the crowd till the Talkative Man
patted us from behind and cried : " Lost in wonder ! If youVe had your eyefull of that
carcass, come aside and listen to me . . ." After the crowd surged past us, he sat
us on a rock mount, under a margosa tree and began his tale " I was once camping in
Koppal, the most obscure of all the villages that lie scattered about the Mempi region.
You might wonder what I was doing in that desolate corner of the Earth. I'll tell you.
You remember I've often spoken to you about my work as agent of a soil fertilizer
company. It was the most miserable period of my life. Twenty-five days in the month, I
had to be on the road, visiting nooks and corners of the country and popularizing the
stuff. . . . One such journey brought me on to the village Koppal. It was not really a '
village ' but just a clearing with about forty houses and two streets, hemmed in by the
jungle on all sides. The place was dingy and depressing. Why our company should
have sought to reach a place like this for their stuff, I can't understand. They would not
have known of its existence but for the fact that it was on the railway.
Yes, actually on the railway, some obscure branch-line passed through this village,
though most trains did not stop there. Its centre of civilization was its railway station
presided over by a porter in blue, and an old station-master, a wizened man wearing a
green turban, and with red and green flags always tucked under his arms. Let me tell
you about the * station.' It was not a building, but an old railway carriage, which, having
served its term of life, was deprived of its wheels and planted beside the railway lines.
It had one or two windows through which the station-master issued tickets, and spoke
to those occasional passengers who turned up in this wilderness. A convolvulus
creeper was trained over its entrance : no better use could be found for an ex-carriage.
" One November morning a mixed train put me down at this station and puffed away
into the forest. The station-master, with the flags under his arm, became excited on
seeing me. He had seen so few travellers arriving that it gave him no end of pleasure
to see a new face. He appointed himself my host immediately, and took me into the ex-
compartment and seated me on a stool.
He said : ' Excuse me. I'll get off these papers in a minute . . .'
He scrawled over some brown sheets, put them away and rose. He locked up the
station, and took me to his home a very tiny stone building consisting of just one room,
a kitchen, and a backyard. The station-master lived here with his wife and seven
children. He fed me. I changed.
He sent the porter along with me to the village, which was nearly a mile off in the
interior. I gathered about me the peasants of those forty houses and lectured to them
from the pyol of the headman's house. They listened to me patiently, received the
samples and my elaborate directions for their use, and went away to their respective
occupations, with cynical comments among themselves regarding my ideas of
manuring. I packed up and started back for the station-master's house at dusk, my
throat smarting and my own words ringing in my ears. Though a couple of trains were
now passing, the only stopping train would be at 5.30 on the following morning.
After dinner at the station-master's house, I felt the time had come for me to leave : it
would be indelicate to stay on, when the entire family was waiting to spread their beds
in the hall. I said I would sleep on the platform till my train arrived. . . .
'No, no, these are very bad parts. Not like your town. Full of tigers. . . .' the station-
master said. He let me, as a special concession, sleep in the ' station.' A heavy table, a
chair and a stool occupied most of the space in the compartment. I pushed them aside
and made a little space for myself in a corner. I'd at least eight hours before me. I laid
myself down : all kinds of humming and rustling sounds came through the still night,
and telegraph poles and night insects hummed, and bamboo bushes creaked. I got up,
bolted the little station door and lay down, feeling forlorn. It became very warm, and I
couldn't sleep.
I got up again, opened the door slightly to let in a little air, placed the chair across the
door and went back to my bed.
" I fell asleep and dreamt. I was standing on the crest of a hill and watching the valley
below, under a pale moonlight. Far off a line of cat-like creatures was moving across
the slope, half shadows, and I stood looking at them admiringly, for they marched on
with great elegance. I was so much lost in this vision that I hadn't noticed that they had
moved up, and come by a winding path right behind me. I turned and saw that they
were not cat-like in size but full-grown tigers. I made a dash to the only available
shelter the station room.
"At this point the dream ended as the chair barricading the door came hurtling through
and fell on me. I opened my eyes and saw at the door a tiger pushing himself in. It was
a muddled moment for me : not being sure whether the dream was continuing or
whether I was awake. I at first thought it was my friend the station-master who was
coming in, but my dream had fully prepared my mind I saw the thing dearly against the
star-lit sky, tail wagging, growling, and above all, his terrible eyes gleaming in the dark.
I understood that the Fertilizer Company would have to manage without my lectures
from the following day. The tiger himself was rather startled by the noise of the chair,
and stood hesitating. He saw me quite clearly in my corner, and he seemed to be
telling himself : ' My dinner is there ready, but let me first know what this clattering
noise is about.
Somehow wild animals are less afraid of human beings than they are of pieces of
furniture like chairs and tables. I have seen circus men managing a whole menagerie
with nothing more than a chair. God gives us such recollections in order to save us at
critical moments ; and as the tiger stood observing me and watching the chair, I put out
my hands and with desperate strength drew the table towards me, and also the stool. I
sat with my back to the corner ; the table wedged in nicely with the corner. I sat under
it, and the stool walled up another side. While I dragged the table down, a lot of things
fell off it, a table lamp, a long knife and pins.
From my shelter I peeped at the tiger, who was also watching me with interest.
Evidently he didn't like his meal to be so completely shut out of sight. So he cautiously
advanced a step or two, making a sort of rumbling noise at his throat which seemed to
shake up the little station house. My end was nearing. I really pitied the woman whose
lot it was to have become my wife.
" I held up the chair like a shield, and flourished it, and the tiger hesitated and fell back
a step or two. Now once again we spent some time watching for each other's
movements. I held my breath and waited. The tiger stood there fiercely waving its tail,
which sometimes struck the side walls and sent forth a thud. He suddenly crouched
down without taking his eyes off me, and scratched the floor with his daws. He is
sharpening it for me,' I told myself. The little shack had already acquired the smell of a
zoo. It made me sick. The tiger kept scratching the floor with his fore-paws. It was the
most hideous sound you could think of.
"All of a sudden he sprang up and flung his entire weight on this lot of furniture. I
thought it'd be reduced to matchwood, but fortunately, our railways have a lot of
foresight and choose the heaviest timber for their furniture. That saved me. The tiger
could do nothing more than perch himself on the roof of the table and hang down his
paws : he tried to strike me down, but I parried with the chair and stool.
The table rocked under him. I felt smothered : I could feel his breath on me. He sat
completely covering the top, and went on shooting his paws in my direction. He would
have scooped portions of me out for his use, but fortunately I sat right in the centre, a
hair's-breadth out of his reach on any side. He made vicious sounds and wriggled over
my head. He could have knocked the chair to one side and dragged me out, if he had
come down, but somehow the sight of the chair seemed to worry him for a time.
He preferred to be out of its reach.
This battle went on for a while, I cannot say how long : time had come to a dead stop in
my world. He jumped down and walked about the table, looking for a gap ; I rattled the
chair a couple of times, but very soon it lost all its terror for him ; he patted the chair
and found that it was inoffensive. At this discovery he tried to hurl it aside. But I was
too quick for him. I swiftly drew it towards me and wedged it tight into the arch of the
table, and the stool protected me on another side. I was more or less in a stockade
made of the legs of furniture.
He sat up on his haunch in front of me, wondering how best to get at me. Now the
chair, table, and stool had formed a solid block with me at their heart, and they could
withstand all his tricks. He scrutinized my arrangement with great interest, espied a
gap, and thrust his paw in. It dangled in my eyes with the curved claws opening out
towards me. I felt very angry at the sight of it. Why should I allow the offensive to be
developed all in his own way? I felt very indignant. The long
knife from the station-master's table was lying nearby. I picked it up and drove it in. He
withdrew his paw, maddened by pain.
He jumped up and nearly brought down the room, and then tried to crack to bits the
entire stockade. He did not succeed. He once again thrust his paw in. I employed the
long knife to good purpose and cut off a digit with the claw on it. It was a fight to a
finish between him and me. He returned again and again to the charge. And I cut out,
let me confess, three claws, before I had done with him. I had become as blood-thirsty
as he. (Those claws, mounted on gold, are hanging around the necks of my three
daughters. You can come and see them if you like sometime.)
"At about five in the morning the station-master and the porter arrived, and innocently
walked in. The moment they stepped in the tiger left me and turned on them. They both
ran at top speed. The station-master flew back to his house and shut the door. The
porter on fleet foot went up a tree, with the tiger halfway up behind him. Thus they
stopped, staring at each other till the goods train lumbered in after 5.30. It hissed and
whistled and belched fire, till the tiger took himself down and bolted across the lines
into the jungle.
"He did not visit these parts again, though one was constantly hearing of his ravages. I
did not meet him again till a few moments ago when I saw him riding in that bullock
cart. I instantly recognized him by his right forepaw, where three toes and claws are
missing. You seemed to be so much lost in admiration for those people who met the
tiger at their own convenience, with gun and company. I thought you might give a little
credit to a ellow who has faced the same animal, alone, barehanded. Hence this
narration."
When the Talkative Man left us we moved on to the square where they were keeping
the trophy in view and hero-worshipping and feting the hunters, who were awaiting a
lorry from the town. We pushed through the crowd, and begged to be shown the right
forepaw of the tiger. Somebody lowered a gas lamp. Yes, three toes were missing, and
a black deep scar marked the spot. The man who cut it off must have driven his knife
with the power of a hammer. To a question, the hunters replied : " Can't say how it
happens. We've met a few instances like this. It's said that some forest tribes, if they
catch a tiger cub, cut off its claws for some talisman, and let it go. They do not usually
kill cubs."