You humans call me a big cat. Well, the
comparison looks awkward to me as I don’t like playing with kids or getting
pampered by women. I would rather eat them for breakfast. Calling me a Tiger
though look appropriate, I would have preferred a much scarier word than that.
I did overhear the story of Rudyard Kipling’s ‘The Jungle Book’ in which
a Tiger is the chief villain. Hmm…you people make up the stories rather than
telling the facts as they are. For that reason, I would have behaved no
different than ‘Shere Khan’ and I would never have made friendship with ‘Mowgli’.
I was governed by laws of the nature until I met with an accident.
Tigers do not believe in luck or fate. So I
think my encounter with human beings is purely an accident. When I was growing
up, I did not know that human race existed. Playing with two siblings under the
protection of my mother was the world to me. Mother would take us out and let
us watch from a hiding how she hunts. All four legged animals, thinner the
legs, bulkier the stomach, better the meal for us. Time was running fast. I did
not know then what it meant when they say happier times. Wait for the right
moment, Attack! Mother had trained us well and I learnt to hunt on my own. That
is when mother’s affection started fading and soon she pushed me out of her
territory.
I was on my own comfortably. An ambush strike on the way to
waterhole would keep my hunger satisfied for couple of days, then I would sleep
well and keep my cool before the need to hunt again. During my walks marking
the territory instinctively, I noticed how scared other animals are seeing me.
Am I the prince of this jungle? Yeah, looks does matter. Scarier the appearance
higher the respect. A plain growl would keep my path free. It did not take much
time to transform from a prince into a king.
All was well until I met a human accidentally.
There was not one but many. They appeared like large monkeys (you remember you
called me big cat), walking on two legs but they were not jumping from tree to
tree. They appeared weak. I did not want to eat them but I was irritated a lot
by their presence. I waited until one of them singled out and made an appearance
before him. My intention was to scare him out of my territory. No doubt he was
scared but he shouted and all the crowd began to gather. I just disappeared
from the scene, not of out fear but sheer disgust.
After that incident, I had a sense of being
watched whenever I went out. Soon I had to meet a human being again. At some
distance he was standing on the top a tower, holding a stick aiming at me.
Blood rushed to my face and I instantly jumped on him. What a surprise, his stick
fired something which pierced my hind leg. I fell down and could not run
anymore. In no time, I lost my senses and collapsed.
After what it appeared to be a deep sleep of
many days, I woke up in a small island like place surrounded by barricades.
There is room to walk but not big enough as few steps would bring it to end. Go
back and go round. ‘Oh, this is a confinement’ I realized. I was captivated.
Food came regularly, what a relief but it is boring to eat at same time of the
day. I missed unpredictability of the jungle. I hear sounds of other animals in
the vicinity and understand that they are captivated too. Each animal has a
confined space here. What kind of a place on earth is this? No exercise to muscles
and I am not using my paws and teeth which were my ultimate tools in hunting. I
started looking at what is outside of those barricades. There were humans, tens
of them, standing on the other side iron bars and staring at me. The moat is
wide between us. While I can attempt a jump off the moat, those iron bars would
still hurt me else I would have taken lives out of those bodies one after the
other. I am out of options. I just lie-down and stare back.
You know no Tiger keeps a dairy. Reading and
writing is such a waste of time and a Tiger would rather live life to fullest
remaining in action. As my hunting skills and tools are rusting, I am learning
to think like humans. Yes, there is nothing else to do. I don’t mean life is bad
in confinement but there is no excitement. To kill time, keeping a dairy,
spending time in the reminiscences may not be a bad thing. Will they ever leave
me back in the jungle? I am not sure if I want to go back. You think Tiger
loves freedom over timely food? You can find out for yourself which Tiger lives
longer. Then extended life is the price for freedom. Is not it? I don’t like
thinking this much. Let me take a nap.
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