Chained

by Lynne Kelly

  “Shhh, you’ll be all right. I’ll take care of you,” I tell her. “I’m sorry,” I add, because I am one of her captors.

  Even in the dark her eyes look wild and scared. I think back to Amma, desperate to find a way to make Chanda well. If I were strong enough, I would pull Nandita out of the trap and lead her through the forest to her family.

  But I can’t help her now. I’ll have to go tell Timir about Nandita, but I don’t want to leave without doing something for her.

  I run to the mango tree and snap off the limb with the largest fruit. When I return to the trap, I lie down and lower the mango branch into the pit.

  “Here—are you hungry?”

  She grabs the branch and yanks it from my hand. A jagged twig scrapes my palm.

  “Aieee! Be patient! I’m trying to help you.” I shake my stinging hand. Nandita still paces around the trap, calling to the herd. I wish I could help her understand what’s going on. I am away from my family, too, but at least I know why.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be back.” I walk away from Nandita.

  I stop to glance once more at what I am leaving behind in the jungle. A knot of betrayal sits in my stomach as I turn away to return to the circus grounds.

  * * *

  Rain has soaked through my clothes by the time I see the glow of lantern light in the cook shed. I’m so late that Ne Min must have made dinner without me. My shivering body is ready to be in front of the oven fire, but I slow as I approach.

  The elephant will be all right. I will take good care of her. She’ll be happy with me. Just as I reach the shed, I remember Timir’s words to my mother, before he drove me away from my village. “Don’t worry, Parvati. I’ll take good care of your boy. He will be quite happy, I promise.”

  Everyone is sitting at the table, eating dinner. When they notice me the room grows quiet. My hand goes to my pocket and the comfort of the stone.

  I look at the ground. “Sorry. Still no elephant.”

  9

  An elephant will not step where it does not feel safe.

  —From Care of Jungle Elephants by Tin San Bo

  Timir flings his plate across the room. I jump back when it shatters against the wall. His unfinished dinner slides to the floor. Timir’s face reminds me of an overripe tomato ready to burst in the heat. He reaches across the table and grabs Sharad by the shirt. His voice carries throughout the cook shed like the hiss of a snake.

  “How many elephants are there in India?”

  Sharad’s eyes scan the room, as if someone here has the answer. “I don’t know—thousands.”

  “Then how is it possible you cannot manage to catch even one?” Timir releases him with a shove, and Sharad tumbles to the floor.

  “Tomorrow morning, you idiots are going to dig a new trap—in a place where you can catch something this time. Enough of this waiting!”

  He turns to me then. “And what took you so long?” he yells.

  “The elephants—they stayed at the river longer than usual. I waited for them to walk by the trap.”

  He points his cane at me. “No more playing around in the woods!” he says before he storms out.

  Dinnertime here is so different from home. Here there is too much heat, and too much noise. Not that mealtimes in our courtyard are quiet, but noise made of laughter and neighbors talking and children playing doesn’t give me the ache in my stomach that shouting and throwing plates does. At home I never saw anyone grab someone in anger, or shove, or yell like Timir yells. People argue sometimes, but their raised voices don’t hold the venom of Timir’s.

  Ne Min picks up a broom.

  “Wait, I’ll get that,” I say, then take the broom from him to sweep up the food and pieces of broken plate from the floor.

  “Good thing the elephants leave the river at sundown,” he says. “Long ago, I heard of an elephant that was caught in a trap overnight. He was attacked by a tiger.”

  I glance outside, in the direction of the forest, then look back to Ne Min.

  He smiles. “Don’t worry, he was all right,” he says. “He was a fighter, that one. But most elephants would not be so lucky.”

  * * *

  Late at night I lie awake in the stable. I cannot stop thinking about Nandita, stuck in the trap. I didn’t want the men to take her out of the forest, but I didn’t have a plan for what to do with her. What can I do? In the morning the workers will find her. But what if a tiger finds her first?

  It will be my fault. I am the reason she’s alone in the trap now and I’m the only one who knows the danger she is in.

  I jump up and grab my torch, then light it after checking to make sure the rain has stopped.

  The sounds of animals I do not recognize echo all around as I hurry back to the river. I’m thankful I can’t see everything that lurks in the night.

  As I get closer to the trap, I start to run. Branches scratch my arms and face, but I keep running.

  Finally I reach the pit. I kneel at the edge and lean over with my torch. I need to see, but I am afraid of what I will find. The shape of the elephant glows in the light.

  “Hey there—are you all right?” I whisper. “I came back, just like I told you.”

  The wind rustles the tree branches above. Frogs and crickets sing in a chorus around me. I lower my torch into the trap, careful not to touch Nandita. Her back rises and falls with her breathing as she sleeps. I sigh with relief.

  I search the area for something that will help free Nandita. My torchlight cannot pierce the thick darkness of the forest, and I stumble over a fallen tree. When I hold my torch close I see that it’s a palm tree. It isn’t very tall, but it might be wide enough to make a ramp for Nandita. I stick my torch in the ground, then grab the tree with both hands and pull.

  It is heavier than I thought. My hands slip off the trunk and I land on the damp ground. The smell of wet earth fills my nose. I stand and plant my feet on the ground to try again. My back and arm muscles strain as I pull. The tree finally slides away from its resting place. Insects and spiders scatter. Something slithers past my feet, and I drop the tree and leap aside. I scan the ground with the torchlight. Nothing. I tiptoe back to the tree, pausing after each step to look and listen for a snake.

  Again I grab hold of the tree and drag it toward the trap. Sweat drips into my eyes and down my back, even though the air is chilly. I stop to sit and rest. With only two more steps I will be standing at the edge of the pit.

  And then what? Will this even work? My muscles ache as I stand once more to pull the tree to the trap. One step, then two—then the muddy edge of the trap falls away. I cry out and grip the trunk when my feet slide into the pit. The bark scrapes my hands that claw the tree. My feet try to dig into the sides of the trap. The mud slips away, not allowing me any foothold. Thankfully the tree is too heavy to fall into the trap with me.

  Nandita, now awake after my shout, trumpets and bellows her anger. Her trunk slaps at my legs dangling into the pit.

  “Look, I don’t want to be in here either!” I yell. “What am I supposed to do?” Nandita paces the floor of the trap. She bumps into my feet when she passes beneath me. My hand slips and I clutch the tree tighter. Squinting, my eyes follow the grayness of her back as she circles the inside of the pit. “Come on, help me out,” I beg Nandita, or Ganesh, or anyone who is listening.

  Nandita walks under me again, and I step onto her back. My arms shaking, I use the last of my strength to push off Nandita’s back and lift myself up until I can lay my chest on the flat ground. I crawl on my elbows until I am completely out of the trap. On the ground I rest to catch my breath as I listen to the thrashing, bellowing elephant.

  “All right, Nandita, let’s get you out of there, too.” I ease the dead tree over the opening of the pit. Nandita reaches up her trunk. The tree hovers over the trap. Little by little I slide the tree forward until it touches the other side of the trap. Easing up, I let the end of the tree slide into the pit until the far end hits the ground. />
  Now that the tree is in the trap next to Nandita, it doesn’t look so big. Why did I think this would work? Even if I get her to step onto the tree, it’s going to snap in two under her weight.

  I drop my head onto my arms and cry. This isn’t fair. She didn’t choose to be away from her family to work, like I did. But I don’t know what else to do for her.

  As I grow sleepy I fight against my drooping eyelids. I pick up a stick and peel away the bark with my pocketknife. A small pile of shavings collects at my feet before the torchlight dies. Finally I fall asleep.

  I wake with a start. Branches shake overhead. Something jumps from a tree and lands on the opposite riverbank. I should turn to see what’s there, but I sit frozen. Moving only my eyes, I dare to glance across the river.

  A pair of glowing eyes stares back at me. I slide my hand to my torch, forgetting it no longer holds a flame. I can make out the outline of a large cat. Not as large as an adult tiger, though. Maybe a leopard? Or could it be a young tiger? Do they attack things that are bigger than they are? Hopefully its mother isn’t around. I scan the forest for another pair of eyes piercing the darkness. My hand searches the ground for my pocketknife, even though it will not be of much use if I’m attacked. I don’t want to harm an animal, but what if the animal harms me first? Or if it harms someone I care about? I look into the trap again, where Nandita sleeps, then back to the cat.

  I force myself to quiet my breathing. The water splashes as the animal dips its paw into the river, then the silver skin of a fish flops onto the riverbank. I sit trembling next to the trap while the animal eats its dinner. Hopefully the fish will be enough.

  With one last look, the cat turns and disappears into the darkness of the forest.

  My heart’s beating so fast, I’m sure it will keep me awake the rest of the night.

  But I must have drifted off to sleep, because the sound of a nearby animal startles me awake again. I laugh when I see it is only a peahen, digging in the ground for its breakfast. Sunlight peeks through the trees. I lean over the edge of the trap and see Nandita staring up at me.

  “I’m so glad you’re all right!” I tell her. “I’ll go pick some mangoes for you.”

  As I rip a branch from the mango tree, I hear another sound in the distance, one as unwelcome as a tiger’s growl. The truck from the circus sputters to a stop at the edge of the trees. My heart races as it had when I saw the big cat. I am out of time. Nandita is trapped, and I can’t do anything more to save her.

  I have not thought how to explain why I’m here, covered with mud, or why the trap now holds an elephant—and a dead tree.

  10

  What one hundred men will drink in a day, so will an elephant.

  —From Care of Jungle Elephants by Tin San Bo

  A trail from the tree stump to the trap shows where I dragged the tree. As the workmen climb out of the truck I race along the length of the trail and kick leaves over the dirt to cover it.

  “What are you doing here?” Sharad asks when he sees me. “Timir is furious that you ran away.”

  I remember the mouse Timir crushed when he warned me about leaving the grounds without permission.

  “I didn’t run away.” I take my time joining the men at the trap and think about what to say next.

  “I woke up early and couldn’t get back to sleep, so I decided to come here before breakfast to see if we’d caught an elephant yet.” I point to the trap. “This one must have fallen in after I left last night. I was just picking some mangoes for its breakfast.” I drop the branch into the pit.

  Sharad leans over the trap to peek at Nandita. She pulls fruit from the branch and shovels them whole into her mouth. She holds one mango in her trunk and hurls it at the face peering at her from above. The fruit smacks Sharad right in the forehead.

  Sharad curses and rubs the red mark on his head, then backs up a few steps. Too bad for him Nandita didn’t hit the top of his head. That mound of piled-up hair would protect him from anything.

  He cranes his neck to watch Nandita from farther away as he wipes mango juice from his face. “Well, it’s a strong one. Not bad. About two years old. Still young enough to train but big enough to give rides.” He pauses. “What’s that tree doing in there?”

  I do not look at him as I answer. “I was wondering the same thing. I guess it fell.”

  “Fell?” He looks around. “From where?”

  Yes, from where? I look around while I think of an answer. “It did get stormy last night. Maybe the wind blew it in.”

  “That was quite a wind then.” Sharad scratches his head. “Well, Timir will be pleased, finally,” he says. “Now, get in the truck.” He turns to the workmen. “Let’s go get the bigger truck and the chains.”

  “I can stay here with the elephant,” I offer. “To stand guard.” Even with all the dangers the forest holds, I feel safer here than with Timir. And I don’t want to leave Nandita alone again.

  The men laugh. “With the elephant?” says Sharad. “Why? So you can run away again? The elephant isn’t going anywhere. Now get in the truck!”

  “But I didn’t run away, and we should find a way to give her some water. She’s been stuck in there since…”

  “Well, go on,” says Sharad. “She’s been stuck in there since when?”

  “Since who knows how long? We don’t know when she fell in there.”

  “Probably just this morning. She’ll get water soon enough. Now get in the truck. The sooner we get out of this jungle the sooner we can get the elephant out of there.”

  I plod to the truck behind the workmen. With one last look at the trap, I climb into the back.

  The men chat with one another on the way to the circus grounds, but I am silent. I cannot stop thinking about Nandita, all alone in the trap again. Is she safe? Is she scared?

  The truck jerks to a stop. Sharad leaps out of the driver’s seat and bolts through the gate toward Timir’s office. I follow the other workers and overhear Sharad boasting to Timir in the doorway.

  “Great news! I have an elephant for you—and I caught the boy, too, before he could run away any farther.”

  “What? Run away?” I hurry to the office door. “But I told you I wasn’t—”

  “What happened to your head?” asks Timir. The lump on Sharad’s forehead has turned purple.

  “Oh, that’s nothing,” explains Sharad. “That elephant has quite a temper, but I’ll break it of that soon enough.”

  “Of course. Excellent work. But you”—he looks past Sharad and glares at me—“have earned a fine of one thousand rupees. You know the rules. You are forbidden to leave the grounds without permission. Is that clear?”

  “A thousand rupees! But that will take me—”

  “An extra three months of work should do it. Now, go get my elephant.”

  11

  A foolish man believes he can trick an elephant.

  —From Care of Jungle Elephants by Tin San Bo

  I stomp to the elephant truck and crawl into the back. Three extra months! I was just protecting the elephant! What will my family think when I don’t come back in a year? They won’t know what’s happened to me. My eyes fill with angry tears when I think about how many days I’ll have to work here before I go home.

  A bed of straw covers the floor of the truck. Blocks of wood of all different sizes are stacked next to me, and a pile of ropes and chains sit coiled in one corner. The sides of the truck have high wooden walls like thick fences.

  The workmen climb into the cab, and the engine coughs and rattles when Sharad starts it up. The truck lurches and I tumble backward.

  When we reach the trap, Sharad gets out of the truck and pounds on the side. “Time to get to work!”

  The two workmen hop into the back to collect the supplies. I carry the ropes and chains while the men haul the wooden blocks to the trap.

  “Climb in, now. We’ll toss the blocks down to you,” says Sharad. He hands one of the workmen a rope and tosses the ot
her end into the pit.

  “Climb in? With the elephant?” I don’t know how to free an elephant from a trap, but I didn’t expect that getting into the trap myself would be part of the plan.

  “Of course with the elephant, you idiot. You’re the smallest one here. Put the steps in place so the elephant can climb out.”

  I hope this turns out better than my ramp. My hands burn as I clutch the rope and scale down the slippery wall of the trap. Nandita groans and moves away.

  “Now, move back—stand next to the elephant,” a workman calls when I reach the bottom.

  Nandita looked so small when she stood next to the adult elephants. Now that we’re together in the trap she seems much larger. The top of her head is as high as my shoulders. She pushes her forehead against my side, and I brace my hand on the side of the trap so she won’t knock me over. For the first time, I notice reddish-brown hair that stands up straight on her head and back. With one finger I reach out to touch her head, ready to pull my hand back if it feels like I’m petting a cactus. The bristles of hair are rough, but they do not hurt like cactus needles. What I notice most is that she doesn’t look like she’s smiling anymore.

  The largest block of wood comes into view as the workmen shove it to the edge of the trap. The pile of leaves crackles when it crashes onto the trap’s floor. Nandita cries out and backs away from the block of wood.

  “Go on,” Sharad calls down. “Push it in place to make the first step.”

  I kneel and push the heavy wood step to the dirt wall. One by one the men drop blocks of wood down to me. Each block for the staircase is smaller than the last, but I have to carry each new step to the top of the stack, then descend the stairs to collect the next one. When I’m close to the top of the trap, the workmen can hand me the wooden blocks instead of dropping them down to me. My arms shake as I stack the last step.

  At last I have a staircase fit for an elephant. I crawl from the top step onto the ground and catch my breath.

  I look down into the trap at Nandita. “How will we get the elephant to walk on the staircase?” I ask. “Will she understand she has to climb the steps?”