Chained

by Lynne Kelly

  “How did he get caught?”

  Ne Min stops reading and looks me in the eye. “Someone who cares very much for animals must have reported him.”

  “Does Timir know?”

  “If he did, that person would be in the same spot as the tigers, instead of reading a book.” He looks like he’s holding back a smile.

  Finally, I find out a little about Ne Min’s past. This must be where he learned so much about elephants.

  “You worked for him then! I bet you were his elephant keeper, right?”

  “No, I took care of the other animals. Not the elephant. Sharad was the elephant keeper, and his father was the trainer.”

  “Sharad’s father was the elephant trainer? Was he mean like Sharad?”

  “No, Kiran was a kind man, and a good trainer.”

  “He didn’t use the hook?”

  “His hook was no sharper than my fingers, and he used it like it was meant to be used—not as a weapon, but as a guide.” He reaches across the table and wraps his hand around my upper arm. “Like taking someone’s arm to show him which way to go.”

  “Didn’t he teach Sharad anything?”

  “He taught him well—how to care for the animals, to train them with respect.”

  “But Sharad isn’t like that.”

  “He was, at one time. Now he acts out of anger. Out of fear, too, like Timir.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  Ne Min closes his book and rests his hands on the cover. He stares out the window.

  “One morning a lion escaped from his cage. He ran toward the arena just as Sharad and his father were leading the elephant, Anju, to the stable. As soon as Anju saw the lion, she panicked. Kiran tried to control her, tried to calm her down, and pushed Sharad aside to protect him. But Anju was a full-grown elephant, and more important, she was scared. Sharad stood by the fence, helpless, while the elephant trampled his father.”

  “Kiran died?”

  “Yes, and so did Anju, soon after. Timir ordered her killed, even though she was only trying to run away from the lion, and even though she was sorry. She and Kiran loved each other like you and Nandita do. After the lion was returned to his cage, and after Anju calmed down, she tried to revive Kiran. She lifted him with her trunk to sit him up, and charged at anyone who approached. It was nightfall before I was able to take her to the stable. I stayed with Anju that night, but her crying kept both of us awake.”

  I think back to my first night with Nandita, when she paced around the stable and cried for her family.

  “After that,” Ne Min continues, “Sharad was full of anger. He wanted Anju killed more than anyone did, even though his father never would have wanted such a thing. Hard as I tried, I could not convince Timir to spare her life. He got a new elephant soon after that, and Sharad stayed on to be her trainer. That’s when he sharpened the hook. He blames all elephants for the death of his father. I think, too, he was afraid the same thing would happen to him. He lashed out at the new elephant, as if to hurt her before she could hurt him.”

  “After everything Timir did, you agreed to work for him again. Why?”

  “When Timir came by to tell me he was starting his circus again, I told him I wasn’t interested in working for him. Then he told me he had hired Sharad and would be trapping an elephant soon. I thought of the elephant, away from its family, living with Timir and Sharad, and I couldn’t stay away. And I wanted to meet the new keeper and make sure he would treat the elephant well.”

  “I’m so thankful you did come back,” I say. “I wouldn’t know how to take care of Nandita without you.”

  “You would have figured it out, with time. As soon as I met you, I knew I had nothing to worry about. Some people have a heart that connects with the elephants, and some do not. But you and Nandita do not belong here any more than the tigers did.”

  My finger traces a crack in the wood, made when Sharad stabbed the table with the hook so long ago. Ne Min is right, we don’t belong here, but how does he think I’m going to free a shackled elephant?

  I look up when I remember Timir’s snide remarks about Ne Min taking care of elephants. Could it have something to do with Anju?

  “Ne Min, when Timir ordered the elephant killed, who—I mean, did you—did he make you—”

  As soon as I see Ne Min’s face I wish I could take back my question.

  “You must know better than that by now,” he says. “No one could make me hurt an elephant, ever.”

  “So what Timir said earlier, in his office—”

  Ne Min closes his book. “It has been a long day, Hastin,” he says. “We should both get to sleep.”

  * * *

  From my hammock I peek through the spaces between the stable logs. Even though I can’t see anything but the night sky, I pretend I can see all the way to my house. I picture my mother as I last saw her, when I looked out the back window of the truck to see her standing in the road.

  Just before I fall asleep, Ne Min comes into the stable. When I sit up I see that he’s holding a palm leaf and a hammer.

  He holds up the leaf. “I meant for you to keep this,” he says.

  “Why? What does it say?”

  “It is from a prayer.” Ne Min holds the leaf on the wall in front of me and places the end of a nail against it. “It says, ‘May those frightened cease to be afraid, and may those bound, be free.’”

  With one strike of the hammer he pounds the nail into the wall.

  22

  What an elephant feels, it feels deeply.

  —From Care of Jungle Elephants by Tin San Bo

  In two more days Ravi Kapur will come see Nandita’s performance. The good thing is, Timir is so focused on impressing him that he has canceled all shows until then so we can work to make that show perfect.

  The work and the heat have exhausted us, Nandita most of all. As much as possible I take her to the spring to allow her to cool off and rest. I notice that she has hook wounds not on her back or her head, but on places that are harder to see, like her belly or the inside of her legs. Timir asked about the swelling under her jaw. His concern surprised me until he said, “We can’t have her looking unhealthy for Kapurji.”

  Each day I still use the hot compress on her jaw. It helps at the time, but she is always swollen again the next morning. I’ve grown tired of standing in front of the oven. The cook shed is hot enough day to day, but lighting the fire more often to heat the stone makes it unbearable.

  It is time for Nandita’s training again, but she needs to rest. I must talk to Sharad, even though he probably will not listen. But maybe he would welcome the rest, too, after training her in the hot sun day after day.

  Nandita looks back at the stable as I lead her to the arena. If she decided to break away from me and go take a nap, I wouldn’t be able to stop her. Either she does not realize this or she is too obedient to try.

  “Good, you’re here,” says Sharad when we enter the arena. “She needs to get to work.”

  “Actually, I think she should skip this session. She doesn’t feel well.” I try to sound sure of myself, the expert elephant keeper advising the trainer about the animal’s condition.

  Sharad looks around, then takes me by the shoulder and pulls me closer. For the first time I notice I am taller than he is.

  “Don’t you understand?” he says. “This is our way out. Not just for me. Think about her.” A flailing arm points at Nandita. “I know she’s working hard now, but that will be over in a couple of days, and then she can rest.”

  Nandita swings her trunk from side to side.

  Sharad grabs both my shoulders now. His round face is close to mine as he speaks, his eyes desperate. “This next show has to be the best performance we’ve ever had. You think I like this? That I want to do this? That I want to bake out here in the sun, training an animal to make me look like a fool? This is all I know how to do. I have a family to take care of—did you know that?”

  “No.” I never imagined anyo
ne marrying Sharad.

  “With five children.”

  For sure I cannot imagine that.

  “I understand,” I say. “But I’m worried about her. She is tired all the time now.”

  Sharad sighs and puts his hands on his hips. He steps away from me and looks at Nandita.

  “I think she is fine,” he says. “But I’ll let her have a short break. She walks on her hind legs pretty well. We do need to run through the performance later to make sure it all comes together just right.”

  This is the best offer I will get from him, so I nod and lead Nandita away from the arena.

  After a long drink at the trough, Nandita enters the stable and flops onto the straw with her wooden Ganesh figure in her trunk. I go to the cook shed to talk to Ne Min.

  He doesn’t look up from the onion he is chopping when I walk in.

  “Sharad is letting Nandita rest for now,” I say.

  “Good,” he says. “I hope it will be enough.”

  “Two more days.”

  He says nothing, just chops the onion into smaller pieces on the counter.

  “You know, you should ask Kapurji about being an elephant keeper.”

  “No, that is not the job for me,” Ne Min says.

  “But maybe you could get a better job with Kapurji.”

  “I do not need much. My house here is enough, and I will stay.”

  * * *

  The night before the show, I cannot sleep. I keep thinking about leaping over the fence and running home. It will be strange not sleeping right near Nandita. I’ll sleep more soundly, away from her snores, but that won’t make me miss her any less.

  I climb down from my hammock and sit next to Nandita. It seems so long ago that I first slept here, right next to her. So long ago that I carved the Ganesh she holds with her trunk. I pet her head and talk to her about tomorrow.

  “Nandita, I know you’ve been working hard,” I tell her. She opens one eye to look at me, then closes it. “But you will be away from here soon. Just one more show. Then you’ll have a better place to live, with a nicer boss…” Even though I have not met Kapurji, he must be nicer than Timir. “… and a big barn for you, and better food, I bet, and more people to take care of you.”

  My voice catches in my throat, and I lay my head on Nandita’s side.

  “So do your very best tomorrow.” I try to sound brave so Nandita won’t know anything is wrong, but my voice is shaky. “Make it the best show you have ever done.”

  She opens an eye to look at me again when I sit up. I cannot be sure she understands me, but I think she does.

  * * *

  The morning of the show, I’m filling the water trough when I hear a car engine. Timir steps out of his office and hurries to meet the white car coming up the drive.

  That must be Ravi Kapur. I dump the rest of the water into the trough and run to the cook shed.

  “Do we have any tea made?” I ask Ne Min. He pours a steaming cup from a kettle and hands it to me.

  “Be careful,” he says as I hurry away.

  The tea sloshes over the sides of the glass and burns my hands. I want to run to meet Kapurji and hear what he and Timir are talking about, but I force myself to slow down so I don’t jostle the tea glass anymore.

  Already I hear Kapurji’s laughter, the loud belly laugh of someone who enjoys laughing often. Timir must have said something really funny, as unlikely as that seems. Sharad exits the arena and joins them.

  The men stop talking and turn to me as I approach. Ravi Kapur is shorter than I am, but much rounder. Except for the crinkles around his eyes, his face does not look old, but his hair is white, like his full beard.

  “You must be tired after your long drive,” I say to him. “Would you like some tea?”

  He claps his hands together. “Perfect, thank you.” He takes the glass and sips the tea.

  “And you must be—” he says.

  “Hastin,” I say. “I am the elephant keeper.”

  “Hastin, would you like to work at my circus?” he asks.

  I’m so surprised by his question, I wonder if I heard him right. With Timir standing so close, I am afraid to answer.

  Ravi Kapur turns to Timir. “If that’s all right with you, of course. Is the boy part of the deal, if I buy the elephant? I could use his experience.”

  I don’t look at Timir, but I feel his glare and hear the tightening of his jaw when he answers. “Of course,” he says.

  “I could pay you eight rupees a day,” Kapurji tells me.

  “You mean you would pay me—actually hand me the money?” I put my hand in my pocket and hold on to Baba’s stone.

  By the way Sharad nudges my shoulder, I guess this is not the kind of thing a good businessman says.

  Kapurji looks at Timir, then back at me. “Well, yes, if you are my employee, I will pay you money. Plus one trip home a year.”

  I wait for someone to start laughing, to tell me this is all a big joke.

  No one laughs. I can hardly breathe.

  “Don’t you have a family you would like to visit now and then?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I manage to answer. “My mother”—my voice catches in my throat—“and my sister.” Maybe, my sister, I add silently. I imagine what Amma’s face will look like when I hand her the money I have earned.

  “If you prove to be a good worker, you can stay as long as you like.”

  That seems to mean I could also leave when I like, but I’m sure Sharad will nudge me very hard if I dare ask that right now.

  “What kind of jobs do you have there?”

  “My elephant keeper could use an assistant—you must know how much work they are. And you could help with our other animals. We have a hippo who never wants to wear her costume when it’s showtime. Then there’s a bear, a lion, monkeys—they are quite a handful, as you can imagine. Someone has to start and stop the music during the show. You must really pay attention to the performances to do that—the clowns, the acrobats, the animal acts. Or you could help serve food.”

  “You sell food there?”

  “Oh yes, like samosas and sweets. We will keep you busy. There’s always plenty to do at the circus.”

  A bus and taxi turn onto the road leading to the property.

  Timir interrupts us. “I should show you to your seat. The performance will begin soon.” Redness darkens his face.

  “Yes, I’m excited to see what this elephant can do. We will talk more after the show, Hastin.” He smiles.

  Timir starts to lead him away, then turns to Sharad and mutters, “Don’t let him too close to the elephant.”

  Ne Min sits on our wooden bench while we wait for the show to start, but I’m too nervous to sit down.

  “Hastin, please,” says Ne Min. “You’re making me dizzy.” I didn’t realize until he mentioned it that I’ve been pacing in circles around the bench. I step to the fence and rest my arms on the top log, hands clasped as if I’m praying.

  At last some dark clouds glide across the sky and cover the sun to give us a little relief from the heat.

  Sharad and Nandita start the show with the hoop trick and I lean forward to watch them. You’ll get a barn, Nandita, a big barn, I want to tell her. And a real doctor to take care of you when you’re sick.

  Somehow she seems to understand how important this show is. Nandita performs every trick just right. Even the new one—Sharad walks toward the audience as he speaks to them, and Nandita follows behind him on her hind legs. Her eyes look tired and she’s a bit wobbly when she balances on the milk bottles, but people who don’t know her may not notice.

  A few raindrops hit my arms and head. Sometimes at home, after a long rain, I could smell the river in the red dirt walls of our hut. I swear I can smell my home right now.

  Sharad and Nandita stand together in the arena, close to the audience. Finally, the last act is almost finished. I’m ready to leap over the fence and run to Nandita as soon as the show ends.

  “Not a bad pla
yer for an elephant,” Sharad says. He no longer calls her “a little elephant,” since she is taller than he is. I laugh already, since I know what’s about to happen. Then I stop.

  “Why isn’t she moving?” I say. Instead of stealing the ball from Sharad to make another goal, Nandita stands in place next to him. Sharad looks at her, then smiles nervously at the audience. He holds the ball more loosely in his hand, then bounces it on the ground right in front of Nandita, inviting her to steal it.

  People shift in their seats and look at one another with questions on their faces. I scan the audience and recognize a few people who have attended the show before. They know what Nandita is supposed to do. I wish Sharad would end the show and tell everyone thank you and goodbye. Anything but this embarrassing silence. Nandita’s trunk rests on the ground, and her body sways.

  Ne Min stands up and steps to the fence.

  The crowd gasps when Nandita staggers forward. She stares in my direction, but past me. Sharad steps toward Nandita as she sways, then he jumps aside as she crashes to the ground. A cloud of dust puffs up around her body.

  Ne Min turns and shuffles toward the arena gate. As I climb onto the fence I glance at Kapurji. Timir grabs his arm while speaking frantically to him, but he breaks away and storms off.

  I leap off the fence and run to Nandita, then fall to my knees and pet her trunk.

  “Nandita, please be all right. You just have to be.”

  Her breathing is fast and raspy. Raindrops dot the dust on her skin.

  The engine of Ravi Kapur’s car roars.

  Nandita does not look at me as I speak to her. Her eyes are closing, but the sliver I can still see is cloudy. I lean over and lay my cheek on her head, next to her ear.

  “Please,” I beg her. “Please stay with me.”

  Timir stands in the road and watches the car pull away. I imagine running past him, leaping onto the bumper of the car, and throwing myself onto the trunk, where I would ride all the way to the circus—my new boss, the animals, the music, samosas, money in my hand, a trip home …

  Sharad is kneeling on the other side of Nandita, his hand on her back.