Tigers for Dinner: Tall Tales by Jim Corbett's Khansama

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by Ruskin Bond


  me. I don’t know if I should tell you this, baba.

  You have your own small room and you may start

  imagining things…’

  ‘I’m not afraid of ghosts, Mehmoud.’

  ‘That’s because you haven’t seen one. Although,

  I’m not sure it was a ghost. And I did not actually

  see anything. But I felt it all right!’

  ‘You can’t feel a ghost, Mehmoud. At least, not

  in stories.’

  ‘This wasn’t a story. It was my first night in Carpet-

  sahib’s house in the jungle. It was a big house with

  many rooms, and I was given one of my own. But

  there was no electricity in that out-of-the-way place.

  We used kerosene lamps or candles.

  ‘I had brought my own razai and blanket, but the

  mattress was a strange one, and so was the pillow. It

  wasn’t a pillow, really, but an old cushion, very hard

  and lumpy. It was my first night in that bed, and I was

  very uncomfortable. The candle burnt itself out, and I

  was still wide awake. I could see very little, there was

  just a small window allowing a little moonlight into

  the room. I was almost asleep when I heard someone

  groaning beside me. Groaning loudly, as though in

  pain. But there was no one else in the bed, and no

  one beneath it.

  ‘This wasn’t a story. It was my first night in Carpet-

  sahib’s house in the jungle. It was a big house with

  many rooms, and I was given one of my own. But

  there was no electricity in that out-of-the-way place.

  We used kerosene lamps or candles.

  ‘I had brought my own razai and blanket, but the

  mattress was a strange one, and so was the pillow. It

  wasn’t a pillow, really, but an old cushion, very hard

  and lumpy. It was my first night in that bed, and I was

  very uncomfortable. The candle burnt itself out, and I

  was still wide awake. I could see very little, there was

  just a small window allowing a little moonlight into

  the room. I was almost asleep when I heard someone

  groaning beside me. Groaning loudly, as though in

  pain. But there was no one else in the bed, and no

  one beneath it.

  ‘The groaning stopped for a time, and then,

  just as I was about to fall asleep, it started again.

  Groan, groan, groan. Now it seemed

  to come from beneath

  my pillow.

  ‘I turned on my side, and slowly, carefully, I slipped

  my hand beneath the pillow.

  ‘It encountered a hairy face, a gaping mouth,

  hollow sockets instead of eyes. Horrible to touch!

  Not the face of a human, baba—the face of

  a rakshas!

  ‘I tried to pull my hand away, but

  it was seized by that terrible mouth. A

  mouth with long, sharp teeth—teeth

  like daggers! It would have bitten my

  fingers off if I hadn’t screamed and

  shouted for help.

  ‘Carpet-sahib and his sister and the

  other servants came running.

  As they rushed into the room

  with torches and a lamp, those awful teeth

  released my hand.

  ‘I turned on my side, and slowly, carefully, I slipped

  my hand beneath the pillow.

  ‘It encountered a hairy face, a gaping mouth,

  hollow sockets instead of eyes. Horrible to touch!

  Not the face of a human, baba—the face of

  a rakshas!

  ‘I tried to pull my hand away, but

  it was seized by that terrible mouth. A

  mouth with long, sharp teeth—teeth

  like daggers! It would have bitten my

  fingers off if I hadn’t screamed and

  shouted for help.

  ‘Carpet-sahib and his sister and the

  other servants came running.

  As they rushed into the room

  with torches and a lamp, those awful teeth

  released my hand.

  “‘Under the pillow!” I screamed. “Under the pillow!”

  ‘They looked under the pillow. But there was

  nothing there. I showed them my fingers—they were

  bleeding badly.

  ‘“A rat must have bitten you,” said Carpet-sahib’s

  sister. But she knew it wasn’t a rat. And she gave me

  another room to sleep in.’

  ‘And were you all right in the

  second room?’

  ‘For a couple of nights, baba. Then

  it happened again.’

  ‘You put your hand under the pillow

  again? And the face was there?’

  ‘Not the whole face, baba. Just

  something soft and squishy.

  “‘Under the pillow!” I screamed. “Under the pillow!”

  ‘They looked under the pillow. But there was

  nothing there. I showed them my fingers—they were

  bleeding badly.

  ‘“A rat must have bitten you,” said Carpet-sahib’s

  sister. But she knew it wasn’t a rat. And she gave me

  another room to sleep in.’

  ‘And were you all right in the

  second room?’

  ‘For a couple of nights, baba. Then

  it happened again.’

  ‘You put your hand under the pillow

  again? And the face was there?’

  ‘Not the whole face, baba. Just

  something soft and squishy.

  ‘I thought it was a snail under my pillow. So I got

  up, lit my lamp, and looked under the pillow.’

  ‘What was it, Mehmoud? Tell me quickly.’

  ‘It was an eyeball, baba. An eye that had been

  removed from its socket. It was staring up at me.

  Just an eyeball—staring!

  ‘I picked it up and threw it out of the window. I

  threw the pillow away, too. Something terrible had

  happened upon that pillow, I’m sure of it.’

  ‘So it wasn’t the room?’

  ‘It wasn’t the room. It was the pillow, baba. Next

  day, I went into town and bought a new pillow, and

  from then on I slept beautifully every night. Never

  use a strange cushion or pillow, baba. Terrible things

  have happened on pillows. So remember—when you

  return to school next month, take a new pillow, and

  don’t use anyone else’s!’

  After listening to Mehmoud’s story, I was always

  careful to use my own pillow. Even now, many many

  years later, I carry my own pillow wherever I go. No

  hotel pillows for me. You never know what might be

  lurking beneath them.

  ‘I picked it up and threw it out of the window. I

  threw the pillow away, too. Something terrible had

  happened upon that pillow, I’m sure of it.’

  ‘So it wasn’t the room?’

  ‘It wasn’t the room. It was the pillow, baba. Next

  day, I went into town and bought a new pillow, and

  from then on I slept beautifully every night. Never

  use a strange cushion or pillow, baba. Terrible things

  have happened on pillows. So remember—when you

  return to school next month, take a new pillow, and

  don’t use anyone else’s!’

  After listening to Mehmoud’s story, I was always

  careful to use my own pillow. Even now, many many

  years later, I carry my own pillow wherever I go. No

 
hotel pillows for me. You never know what might be

  lurking beneath them.

  .6.

  The Tiger’s Claw

  ‘Why did you leave Jim Corbett

  and his sister?’ I asked Mehmoud

  one day. ‘Didn’t they like your

  cooking?’

  ‘I did not leave them, baba. They left me. That is,

  they left the country. Said goodbye to India. Went

  to live in Africa, where they hunted lions instead of

  ‘Why did you leave Jim Corbett

  and his sister?’ I asked Mehmoud

  one day. ‘Didn’t they like your

  cooking?’

  ‘I did not leave them, baba. They left me. That is,

  they left the country. Said goodbye to India. Went

  to live in Africa, where they hunted lions instead of

  tigers. They gave me a certificate and some money,

  and I went home to my village near Shamli. There

  I sold guavas and mangoes. Very dull, after all that

  excitement with Carpet-sahib. Oh yes—and he gave

  me this.’

  Mehmoud unbuttoned the top of his shirt and

  showed me a large tiger’s claw in a locket that hung

  round his neck. ‘It came from the last tiger that he

  tigers. They gave me a certificate and some money,

  and I went home to my village near Shamli. There

  I sold guavas and mangoes. Very dull, after all that

  excitement with Carpet-sahib. Oh yes—and he gave

  me this.’

  Mehmoud unbuttoned the top of his shirt and

  showed me a large tiger’s claw in a locket that hung

  round his neck. ‘It came from the last tiger that he

  shot before he went away. The claw of the last tiger.’

  ‘Were you present when he shot it?’

  ‘Yes, baba, I was there. It was the most exciting

  day of my life—if you don’t count my wrestling match

  with the king cobra.’

  ‘Did you wrestle with a tiger?’

  ‘No, baba, I’m no match for a tiger. If I see a tiger,

  I run—I have strong legs. But on that particular day,

  I couldn’t even run, I was alone in the bungalow and

  the tiger was coming for me.

  ‘It was a man-eater all right, and I think it had

  come to take its revenge because of all the man-

  eaters that Carpet-sahib had shot. It was a big fellow,

  the largest tiger I have ever seen, and it walked right

  up to the verandah steps, raised its head and let out

  a terrific roar—it was like a challenge!’

  shot before he went away. The claw of the last tiger.’

  ‘Were you present when he shot it?’

  ‘Yes, baba, I was there. It was the most exciting

  day of my life—if you don’t count my wrestling match

  with the king cobra.’

  ‘Did you wrestle with a tiger?’

  ‘No, baba, I’m no match for a tiger. If I see a tiger,

  I run—I have strong legs. But on that particular day,

  I couldn’t even run, I was alone in the bungalow and

  the tiger was coming for me.

  ‘It was a man-eater all right, and I think it had

  come to take its revenge because of all the man-

  eaters that Carpet-sahib had shot. It was a big fellow,

  the largest tiger I have ever seen, and it walked right

  up to the verandah steps, raised its head and let out

  a terrific roar—it was like a challenge!’

  ‘What did Corbett do?’

  ‘He wasn’t there. He

  and his sister had taken

  the jeep and driven into

  the town to see someone

  who wanted to buy the

  property. The rest of the

  staff were out, too. I was

  alone, setting the dining

  table for lunch,

  when I heard this roar. I ran to the

  front room and looked out of the window,

  and there it stood, glaring at me with its yellow

  eyes, ready to pounce and have me for its dinner.

  Believe me, baba, it was even licking its lips!

  ‘I closed that window in a hurry. Then I ran to the

  front door and made sure it was bolted.

  ‘What next? I closed all the doors and windows—

  there were so many! Every time I looked out of a

  window I saw that tiger outside, circling round and

  round the house, just taking its time before leaping

  through an opening and pouncing on me—making

  a korma curry of me! It’s nice cooking a keema or

  kofta curry, baba, but not so nice to be curry for a

  tiger!‘At last I had all the doors and windows shut.

  Let that tiger roar! I was safe from its claws. Or so I

  thought…

  ‘I was standing in the middle of the front room,

  trembling with fear, when—thump, thump—its

  heavy paws began pounding on the front door.

  ‘That door was strong—but not strong enough to

  stand against the strength and weight of an angry

  ‘What next? I closed all the doors and windows—

  there were so many! Every time I looked out of a

  window I saw that tiger outside, circling round and

  round the house, just taking its time before leaping

  through an opening and pouncing on me—making

  a korma curry of me! It’s nice cooking a keema or

  kofta curry, baba, but not so nice to be curry for a

  tiger!

  ‘At last I had all the doors and windows shut.

  Let that tiger roar! I was safe from its claws. Or so I

  thought…

  ‘I was standing in the middle of the front room,

  trembling with fear, when—thump, thump—its

  heavy paws began pounding on the front door.

  ‘That door was strong—but not strong enough to

  stand against the strength and weight of an angry

  tiger. It would give way any minute. And then I would

  be mincemeat.

  ‘There was a small skylight high up on the wall,

  which opened out on to the roof. If I could reach it

  and get through, I’d be safe on the roof.

  ‘I pulled a table across to the wall and placed a

  chair on the table. I climbed on to it and reached

  the skylight. I squirmed through it and emerged on

  the roof. Then I looked down through the skylight

  just as the front door gave in, and the tiger rushed

  in, ready for dinner!

  ‘But dinner was on the roof, out of its reach. That

  made it very angry. The tiger ran round the room,

  smashing chairs, upsetting the table. It charged into

  the other rooms, smashing and grunting, came back,

  angrier than ever, tore up a couple of rugs and bit

  tiger. It would give way any minute. And then I would

  be mincemeat.

  ‘There was a small skylight high up on the wall,

  which opened out on to the roof. If I could reach it

  and get through, I’d be safe on the roof.

  ‘I pulled a table across to the wall and placed a

  chair on the table. I climbed on to it and reached

  the skylight. I squirmed through it and emerged on

  the roof. Then I looked down through the skylight

  just as the front door gave in, and the tiger rushed

  in, ready for dinner!

  ‘But dinner was on the roof, out of its reach. That

  made it very angry. The tiger ran round th
e room,

  smashing chairs, upsetting the table. It charged into

  the other rooms, smashing and grunting, came back,

  angrier than ever, tore up a couple of rugs and bit

  right through Carpet-sahib’s tiffin carrier! And then,

  with an angry roar, it charged out of the house and

  into the garden.’

  ‘But you were safe on the roof, Mehmoud!’

  ‘So I thought. But when I stood up and moved to

  the edge of the roof, I saw the tiger looking up at me,

  judging the height from the ground to the rooftop.

  It was a distance of some twenty feet. Could a tiger

  leap that high? Even worse, there was an iron ladder

  leading from the open ground to the roof. The tiger

  had noticed this. It approached the ladder and began

  slowly, carefully, to climb up, rung by rung. In a few

  minutes, it would be upon me. What could I do?’

  right through Carpet-sahib’s tiffin carrier! And then,

  with an angry roar, it charged out of the house and

  into the garden.’

  ‘But you were safe on the roof, Mehmoud!’

  ‘So I thought. But when I stood up and moved to

  the edge of the roof, I saw the tiger looking up at me,

  judging the height from the ground to the rooftop.

  It was a distance of some twenty feet. Could a tiger

  leap that high? Even worse, there was an iron ladder

  leading from the open ground to the roof. The tiger

  had noticed this. It approached the ladder and began

  slowly, carefully, to climb up, rung by rung. In a few

  minutes, it would be upon me. What could I do?’

  Mehmoud paused for effect, and all I could say

  was: ‘Hide in the water tank?’

  ‘There was no water tank. All I could do was send

  up a prayer to the Almighty.’

  ‘And he must have heard you.’

  ‘He did indeed, baba. And so did Carpet-

 

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