Tiger's Curse

by Collen Houck

  I stroked his shoulder affectionately and murmured to him softly, calming him while my hand moved gently over his collar and detached the heavy chains. Ren looked over at the men who were still standing frozen in the same place wearing stunned expressions. Ren snuffed out his displeasure at them by growling softly, and then he leaned out to rub his head along my arm while keeping his eyes trained on the

  workers. The men began talking very fast to one another in their native language.

  I closed the cage and locked it while Mr. Kadam walked over to the men and spoke quietly. He did not seem surprised by what had happened. Whatever he said had reassured the men because they began moving around the area again, obviously giving Ren a wide berth. They swiftly rounded up equipment and

  moved the plane into a hangar.

  After Ren was secured in the truck, Mr. Kadam introduced me to the driver,he seemed nice but very young, even younger than I was , and showed me where my bag was stowed. He also pointed out another bag he had purchased for me. It was a large black back-pack with several compartments. He unzipped a few to show me some of the items he had placed inside. The back zipper pocket contained a sizeable amount of Indian currency. Another pocket held travel documents for Ren and me. Snooping, I opened another zipper and found a compass and a lighter. The main part of the bag was stocked with energy bars, maps, and bottles of water.

  “Um…Mr. Kadam, I’m curious. Why did you choose to include a compass and a lighter in the bag, not to mention some of these other items?”

  He smiled and shrugged. “You never know what things might come in handy along the journey. I want to

  make sure you’re fully prepared.”

  He zipped up the compartments and placed the bag on the front seat. “I have given the driver instructions, but he doesn’t speak much English, so inside your bag you will find a Hindi/English dictionary should you have need of it.

  “I must take my leave of you now, Miss Kelsey.” He smiled and squeezed my shoulder. I suddenly felt vulnerable. Continuing the journey without Mr. Kadam left me feeling anxious. It felt like the first day of

  high school all over again.If high school was one of the biggest countries in the world and everyone spoke

  a different language. I’m on my own, time to act like a grown-up. I tried to reassure myself, but fear of the unknown was chomping away inside me and chewing a hole through my stomach.

  I asked pleadingly, “Are you sure you can’t change your plans and travel with us?”

  “Alas, I cannot attend you on your journey.” He smiled reassuringly. “Don’t fret, Miss Kelsey. You are more than able to care for Dhiren, and I have meticulously arranged every detail of your trip. Nothing will

  go wrong.”

  I gave him a weak smile, and he took my hand and enfolded it in both of his for a moment, and said,

  “Trust me, Miss Kelsey. All will be well with you.” With a twinkle in his eye and a wink, he left.

  I looked at Dhiren. “Well, kid, I guess it’s just you and me.”

  The driver was looking at me through the cab of the truck and said, “We…go?”

  “Yes, we go,” I responded with a sigh.

  When I climbed in, the driver stepped on the gas and never,ever took his foot off the pedal. He raced out of the airport and in less than two minutes was winding quickly through traffic at frightening speeds.

  I

  clutched my door and the dash in front of me. He wasn’t the only insane driver though. Everybody on the

  road seemed to think 130 kph, or, according to my travel guide, 80 mph in a crowded city, with hundreds of pedestrians, was not quite fast enough. Hoards of people dressed in bright, vibrant colors moved in every direction past my window. Vehicles of every description filled the streets—buses, compact cars, and some kind of tiny, boxy car with no doors and three wheels sped by. The boxy ones must have been the local taxis because there were hundreds of them. There were also countless motorcycles, bicycles, and pedestrians. I even saw animals pulling carts full of people and produce.

  I guessed that we were supposed to be driving on the left side of the road, but there seemed to be no distinct pattern or even white stripes to mark the lanes. There were very few lights, signs, or signals.

  Cars

  just turned left or right whenever there was an opening…and sometimes even when there wasn’t. Once, a car drove right at us on a collision course and then turned away at the last possible second. The driver kept laughing at me every time I gasped in fear.

  I gradually became desensitized enough to start to take in the sights that were speeding by, and, with interest, I saw countless multicolored markets and vendors selling an eclectic variety of wares.

  Merchants

  sold string-puppets, jewelry, rugs, souvenirs, spices, nuts, and all manner of fruits and vegetables out of small buildings or street carts.

  Everyone seemed to be selling something. Billboards showed advertisements for tarot cards, palm reading, exotic tattooing, piercing, and henna body-painting shops. The entire city was a hurried, wild, vibrant, and touristy panorama with people of all descriptions and classes. It looked like there was not one square inch of the city that was unoccupied.

  After a harrowing drive through the city, we finally made it to the highway. At last, I was able to relax my

  grip a little bit, not because the driver was moving slower, in fact, he had sped up, but because the traffic had dropped off considerably. I tried to follow where we were going on a map that was included in my backpack, but the lack of road signs made it difficult. I did notice that the driver missed an important turn

  onto another freeway that would lead us up to the tiger reserve though.

  “That way, go left!” I pointed.

  He shrugged and waved his hand at me dismissing my suggestions. I grabbed my dictionary and tried frantically to look up the wordleft orwrong way . I finally found the wordkumarga , which meantwrong road orincorrect path . He gestured to the road ahead with his index finger and said, “Fast drive…road.”

  I gave up and let him do what he wanted after that. It washis country after all. I figured he knew more about the roads than I did.

  After driving for about three hours, we stopped at a tiny town called Ramkola. I guess calling it atown would be overemphasizing the size of the place because it boasted only a market, a gas station, and five houses. It bordered a jungle, which was where I finally found my first sign. It said…

  Yawal Wildlife Sanctuary

  pakSizaalaa Yawal

  4 km

  The driver got out of the truck and started to fill the tank with gas. He pointed to the market across the street and said, “Eat. Good food.”

  I grabbed the backpack that had the money in it and went to the back to check on Ren. He was sprawled out on the floor of the cage. He opened his eyes and yawned when I approached but stayed in his inert position. I walked to the market and opened the white peeling squeaky door. A little bell rang announcing my presence.

  An Indian woman dressed in a traditional sari emerged from a back room and smiled at me. “Namaste.

  You like food? Eat something?”

  “Oh! You speak English? Yes, I would love some lunch.”

  “You sit there. I make.”

  Even though it was lunch for me, it was probably dinner for them because the sun was low in the sky.

  She motioned me over to a little table with two chairs that was set next to the window, and then she disappeared. The store was a small, rectangular room that housed various grocery products, souvenirs depicting the wildlife sanctuary nearby, and practical things like matches and tools.

  Indian music played softly in the background. I recognized the sounds of a sitar and heard bells but couldn’t identify the other instruments. I glanced through the door where the woman had disappeared and heard the clatter of pans in her kitchen. It looked like the store was the front of a larger building and the family lived in a house attached to the back.<
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  In surprisingly fast time, the woman returned, balancing several bowls of food. A young girl followed in

  behind her bringing even more bowls of food. It smelled exotic and spicy. She said, “Please to eat and enjoy.”

  The woman disappeared in the back, while the young girl started to straighten shelves in the store as I ate. They hadn’t brought me any silverware, so I spooned up some of each dish with my fingers, remembering to use my right hand following Indian tradition.Lucky Mr. Kadam had mentioned that on the plane . I recognized the basmati rice, naan bread, and tandoori chicken, but the other three dishes I’d never seen before. I looked over at the girl, inclined my head, and asked, “Do you speak English too?”

  She nodded and approached me, motioning with her fingers, and said, “Little bit English.”

  I pointed to the three dishes. “What is the name?”

  “This…samosa.”

  It was a triangular pastry filled with spicy vegetables. “What about this one and this?”

  She indicated one and then the other, “Rasmalai and baigan bhartha.” She smiled shyly and bustled off to

  work on the shelves again. As far as I could tell, the rasmalai were balls of goat cheese dipped in a sweet cream sauce, and the baigan bhartha was an eggplant dish with peas, onions, and tomatoes. It was all very good, but a bit too much. When I was finished, the woman brought me a milkshake made with mangoes, yogurt, and goat’s milk.

  I thanked her, sipped my milkshake, and let my eyes drift to the scene out the dusty window.Not much of a view. Just the gas station and two men standing by the truck talking. One was a very handsome young man dressed in white. He faced the store and spoke with another man who had his back toward me.

  The second man was older and looked like Mr. Kadam.Huh, that’s weird. They seemed to be having an argument. The longer I watched them, the stronger my conviction became that itwas Mr. Kadam, but he was arguing hotly with the younger man, and I couldn’t picture Mr. Kadam ever getting mad like that.

  I was not usually an eavesdropper, but there wasn’t much else to do. Besides, it wasn’t like they were speaking English or anything, so I tried to catch a few words. The older man saidnahi mahodaya often, and the younger man kept sayingavashyak or something like that. I thumbed through my Hindi dictionary

  and foundnahi mahodaya easily. It meantno way orno, sir . Theavashyak was harder because I had to figure out its spelling, but I eventually found it. That word meantnecessary oressential , something that must be orhas to happen .

  I walked to the window to get a better look. Just then, the young man in white looked up and saw me staring at them from the window. He immediately ceased his conversation and stepped out of my line of vision, disappearing around the side of the truck. Embarrassed to be caught, but irresistibly curious, I made my way through the maze of shelves to the door. I needed to know if it really was Mr. Kadam or not.

  Grabbing the loose door handle, I twisted it and pushed it open. It squeaked on rusty hinges.No one was there . I walked across the dirt road and over to the truck, but still, I couldn’t see anyone. Circling the truck, I stopped at the back and saw that Dhiren was alert and watching me from his cage, but I couldn’t see the two men or even locate the driver. I peeked in the cab…no one.

  Confused, but remembering I hadn’t paid my bill, I crossed the street and went back into the store. The young girl had already cleared away my dishes. I pulled some bills from the backpack and asked, “How much money?”

  “One hundred rupees.”

  Mr. Kadam had told me to figure out money by dividing the total by forty. I quickly calculated she was asking for two dollars and fifty cents. I smiled to myself and thought about my dad and his quick division

  drills when I was little. I gave her two hundred rupees instead, and she beamed happily.

  Thanking her, I told her the food was delicious and then asked for a restroom. She pointed to a small door at the end of the shelves. I finished up in the restroom, picked up my backpack, opened the squeaky door, and stepped outside.

  The truck was gone.

  CHAPTER 7

  How could the truck be gone?I ran out to the gas pump to look down the dirt road. There was nothing.

  No dust cloud. No people. Nothing. I spun in the other direction. There should have beensome evidence of the truck being moved.Maybe he forgot me. Maybe he needed to get something. Maybe the truck was stolen and the driver was still around here somewhere.

  I walked around to the other side of the gas pump and found my black bag lying in the dust. I rushed over to it, picked it up, and checked inside. All of my things seemed to be in there. I heard a noise behind

  me and whirled around to see Ren sitting by the side of the road. His tail twitched back and forth while he watched me. He looked like a giant abandoned puppy wagging his tail hoping someone would claim him and take him home. I muttered, “Oh, no! This is great! Nothing will go wrong, Mr. Kadam said. Ha!

  The driver must have stolen the truck and let you out. What am I going to do now?”

  Always the practical one, I decided to be scared later and thought about the positives. First, I still had all

  my clothes. Second, I had the bag of money and traveling papers with me. That was the good news.

  The bad news, of course, was that my ride was gone and my tiger was loose. I went back into the store to get some help. I decided the first order of business was to secure Ren. I searched through the store and found some jerky snacks and a long length of rope.

  With my newly acquired fluorescent-yellow synthetic rope, I walked outside and tried to get my tiger to cooperate. He’d moved off several paces and was now heading for the jungle. I ran after him.

  The sensible thing to do was go back to the store, borrow a phone, and call Mr. Kadam. He could send some people down, professional type people to catch him. But I was afraid for him. I had absolutely no fear of him myself, but I was afraid others would panic over him and bring weapons. I also worried that, even if he escaped the hunters, he couldn’t survive in the jungle. He wasn’t used to hunting on his own.

  Despite the foolishness of it, I chose to follow my tiger.

  I begged, “Ren, come back! We need to get some help! This isn’t your reserve. Come on, I’ll give you a nice treat!” I waved the jerky snack in the air, but he kept moving. I was weighed down with Mr.

  Kadam’s backpack and my clothes bag. I was able to keep up with him, but not overtake him. He wasn’t moving very quickly, but he always seemed to be several paces ahead of me. He loped off and entered the jungle with me chasing after him at a fast pace, my backpacks bobbing heavily up and down as I ran. After about fifteen minutes of pursuing Ren, sweat was trickling down my face, my clothes

  were stuck to my body, and my feet were dragging like heavy stones.

  As my pace slowed, I entreated again, “Ren…pleasecome back. We need to go back to the town. It’s going to be dark soon.” He ignored me and began winding through the trees. He’d stop to turn and look at me every so often.

  Just when I thought I’d finally catch him, he’d accelerate and leap ahead a few feet, causing me to chase after him through the jungle again. I felt like he was playing a game with me. He was always just out of reach. After following him for another fifteen minutes and still not catching him, I decided to break off my

  pursuit. I was feeling acutely anxious because I knew I’d traveled far from the town and the light was dimming.

  Ren must have realized that I wasn’t following him anymore because he finally slowed down, turned around, and ambled guiltily back over to me. I glared at him. “Figures. The minute I stop, you come back. I hope you’re happy with yourself.” Tying the rope to his collar, I turned around in a circle and carefully studied each direction to try to get my bearings.

  We’d now traveled deep into the jungle. Ren had looped in and out of trees, twisted and turned numerous times, and now I realized, with great despair, that I’d lost all sense of directio
n. It was twilight,

  and the dark canopy of trees overhead was blocking out the little sun we had left. A choking fear settled inside me, and I felt a wave of icy, nibbling cold slither slowly down my spine. It shot wintry streams down my arms and legs and poked out my skin in spiky goose bumps.Where am I?

  I grumbled at Ren, “Thanks a lot, Mister!”

  I started twisting the rope around my hands nervously and talking to myself: “What am Idoing ?

  I’mwho

  knows where inIndia , in thejungle , atnight , with atiger on a rope!” Ren sat down quietly beside me.

  My fear overwhelmed me for a minute, and I sensed the jungle closing in. All the distinctive sounds rushed in to clatter and wrestle with my frightened mind, attacking my common sense. I started to imagine

  stalking creatures hunting me, their glassy, hostile eyes watching me and waiting to pounce. I looked up and saw angry monsoon clouds surging, quickly swallowing up the early evening sky. A stiff, numbing wind whipped through the trees and swirled around my rigid body.

  After a couple of moments, Ren got up and moved ahead, gently pulling my tense body along with him.

  I

  reluctantly followed. I laughed nervously and madly for a moment because I was letting a tiger lead me through the jungle, but I figured there was no point inme trying to lead the way. I had no idea where I was. He walked on some unseen path, dragging me along behind him. I lost track of time, but my best guess was that we walked through the jungle for an hour, maybe two. It was very dark now, and I was scared and thirsty.

  Remembering that Mr. Kadam had packed water in the bag, I unzipped the pocket and felt around for a bottle. My hand brushed against something cold and metallic. “A flashlight!” I turned it on and felt a bit of

  relief at having a beam of light to shine on the dark jungle.

  In the shadows the jungle appeared menacing, not that it wasn’t equally as terrifying during the day, but my measly light didn’t penetrate very far, which made it even worse. When the thin moon appeared and dispersed its light through the thick tree cover overhead, Ren’s coat gleamed where the moonlight touched it. I peered ahead, catching shiny glimpses of his body as he moved through the undulating, flickering patches of light. When the moon hid behind the clouds, Ren disappeared completely on the trail