Tiger Boy

by Mitali Perkins

  “You’re already working so hard to pay back the doctor,” Ma said. “What more can you do?”

  “I must earn some extra money. Our boy is the smartest in all the Sunderbans. He could become a big man, an educated man, like Headmaster.”

  You’re bigger than he is, Baba. Neel thought.

  Ma said it for him: “That man is not better than you—everybody in this village respects Neel’s father.”

  “But I’m losing our boy’s chance to win that scholarship!” Baba sounded both angry and sad.

  Neel’s stomach tightened around the small amount of rice he’d managed to swallow. It wasn’t Baba’s fault that Neel was going to lose the scholarship. If only Headmaster hadn’t chosen me to represent the school! Why couldn’t his best friend have inherited a school-smart brain from his father, the teacher? Then maybe Ajay could have been the one chosen to take the exam.

  The following night, he was woken by the urgency in Baba’s voice. “He won’t be able to win without that special tutor, and I can’t afford to hire him! There’s no other way.”

  “Shhh,” Ma said. “You’ll find another way, Husband. You always do.”

  “If only—if only it wasn’t so hard for me to earn extra money.”

  Baba’s voice broke as he said this, and Neel brushed the back of his hand across his eyes. Hard. This was all his fault. He squirmed on his mat, wishing uselessly that Headmaster hadn’t selected him, picturing the cub chased by a hungry crocodile, counting the minutes until the sun would finally rise. Why was it taking so long?

  Two days later, Baba arrived home long after dark. The waning, still-bright moon had risen high in the night sky by the time they ate. Tonight’s rui fish was spiced with black pepper and turmeric, and Ma had made her tasty cauliflower and potato curry. It was good to eat her cooking again, but Baba didn’t compliment it. Again he ate hunched over his food, tense and quiet, paying no attention to anything except what was going on inside his own head.

  After dinner, as Neel waited for his sister to wash the plates, they heard their parents arguing inside the hut. Without a word Neel and Rupa crept to the threshold to listen. Baba’s voice was low, but they could hear it clearly: “What else can I do? Gupta asked me again to join the hunt. He’s doubled the pay. I’ll go after the children are asleep.”

  The metal thali Rupa was clutching clattered on the stone. Neel rushed into the hut, followed closely by his sister. For once they didn’t bother to take off their sandals before entering the hut and running to their father.

  “No, Baba!”

  “Chup! ” Ma sternly scolded them to be quiet, but they didn’t obey.

  “Is Gupta hunting the cub tonight, Baba?” Rupa demanded. “What does he want with her?”

  “You know what he wants!” Neel shouted. “To sell her on the black market! You can’t do this, Baba!”

  “You may neither command nor contradict your father,” scolded Ma. “Lower your voice this minute, Neel. And both of you, take off your sandals. It’s hard enough to keep this hut clean without the two of you dragging mud and dirt in here.”

  Neel swallowed hard. He and Rupa headed back to the threshold and yanked off their sandals. Then they both marched back to their father, who was standing where they had left him, head bowed, hands hanging limply.

  “How can you think of handing the cub to a man like Gupta, Baba?” Rupa asked, her voice shaky.

  Baba didn’t lift his head to meet her eyes, and there was a long silence. “I don’t see what else to do,” he said finally. “Neel needs that tutor. This is the only chance I have to earn the extra money. Gupta’s only hiring two or three men.”

  “I don’t need a tutor, Baba,” Neel said. Now his voice was shaky, and tears were blurring his vision. “Please. I can study on my own.”

  “You heard Headmaster,” Baba said. “You won’t improve without a tutor. I’m your father. I must do what I can to help you.”

  “I don’t even want to take that stupid exam! Or win that scholarship!” Neel wiped his eyes furiously with his sleeve. Enough with the tears! You’re in Class Five, almost Class Six! Grow up, Neel!

  “So Headmaster was right?” Ma asked incredulously. “You aren’t trying? Are you crazy, Neel?”

  Baba straightened as though Neel’s words had given him new resolve. “You see? He doesn’t understand what a chance this is for him. That’s why he needs this tutor.”

  Neel looked at Rupa for help, but she shot him one of her “I told you so” looks. He took a deep breath to try to stop the tears. “I don’t want to leave home, Baba.”

  “Ay-yo!” Ma exclaimed. “What are you thinking, Son? You don’t want to leave here?”

  “I want to stay with you, Baba,” said Neel. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. I’ll take care of our land like you do. Our rice and peppers came back so fast after the cyclone! And we’ve never gone hungry, Baba. Never! You’re a much bigger man than that Gupta, Baba! Or Headmaster.”

  “But they can both read. And write. And that gives them a certain kind of power in this world, Neel— don’t you see? I want you to have that power. Besides, we have different talents, you and I. This is mine.” Baba lifted his hand and showed Neel his palm. Then his big hand rested on Neel’s head. “And this is yours.”

  Rupa was mopping her cheeks with the end of her sari. “Neel’s brain isn’t worth you handing a baby tiger to Gupta—”

  Baba put his other hand on Rupa’s shoulder. His face looked tired and old. “I’ve made my decision. No more discussion. We probably won’t find the poor creature anyway, and this fuss will be for nothing. But I’ll get paid regardless. And we must keep Gupta’s search a secret. Don’t tell a soul. Daughter, bring my mask, will you? And one of the flashlights.”

  “Yes, Baba,” Rupa managed to say through her tears. She turned to obey.

  “Husband, you’re not going into the reserve, are you?” Ma asked, alarm in her voice. Baba wore only his mask when he ventured behind the fence, even though lately it seemed like the decoys didn’t fool the tigers anymore. Two of the fishermen who’d been killed this year had been wearing them.

  “There’s a chance that the mother tiger broke loose and came across the river,” Baba said. “The mask might distract her, at least.”

  Rupa handed him the plastic decoy mask, and Baba slipped it on so that the painted human face covered the back of his head.

  “I’ll be back before dawn,” he said. Picking up a flashlight and one of the sturdy sundari sticks from the pile in the corner, he left the hut.

  Eieght

  HEADING STRAIGHT FOR Bon Bibi’s shrine, Ma began to light incense and chant prayers. Slowly Rupa went back outside to finish the dishes, and Neel followed. He squatted by the pump, shaky and sick. It felt like another cyclone had hit the island, turning the soil to water underneath his feet.

  “I can’t believe it,” he said. “I just can’t believe it.”

  Rupa was scrubbing a thali furiously. “Protect the tigers. Plant trees. That’s always what he taught us.” She looked up at the tall sundari trees silhouetted against the moon and wiped her cheeks again.

  Neel couldn’t bring himself to be angry at Baba. “This is all Headmaster’s fault, choosing me to take that exam. I hate that man almost as much as I hate studying!”

  Rupa shot him a sharp look. “Do you really hate it? But what about all those books you read? And the stories you’re always scribbling?”

  Neel didn’t answer. That was one thing about Rupa—he could never fool her the way he could everyone else. He was quiet, watching her dry and stack the thalis. The sundari trees swayed in the wind. It was almost as if they were beckoning. He thought of the cub hiding somewhere nearby, far from her mother, scared and lonely. Gupta’s fat face flashed in front of his eyes. “We should at least try to save her, Didi,” he said. “I can’t stand the thought of her falling into that awful man’s hands.”

  “We should try to save Baba,” Rupa said. “He’ll never forgive
himself if he’s the one who finds her. But what can we do?”

  Neel thought of their father’s grim face. “We can look for that cub ourselves. You and me. Tonight.”

  “What makes you think we’ll find her? Gupta’s men have searched everywhere by now.”

  “There might be a place or two that they don’t know about.”

  “Do you really think so?” Rupa asked.

  “Viju was right—I know this island better than anybody, Didi. Besides, they haven’t found her yet, have they?”

  Rupa was quiet for a second, and then she slammed the last dry thali on top of the pile. “OK, then. We’ll try to find her. But what happens if we do?”

  “The ranger told me she’d come to us if we lured her with milk. It might take a while for her to trust us.” Now it was Neel’s turn to sound doubtful. “Even if we do find her and she comes to us, how will we carry her to the reserve without anyone seeing us?”

  “First things first,” Rupa said. “If you were a tiger cub, far from your mother, where would you hide? Go inside and think hard, Neel. Use every bit of that smart brain of yours. Meanwhile I’ll finish cleaning up. We’ll head out once Ma is lying down.”

  Their mother prayed for a long time that night. Neel perched on his chair and waited for her to stop chanting. Where could that cub be hiding? Suddenly he remembered the nightmare that had woken him, and how he had tried to steady himself by mapping the island in his head. He’d tracked the cub mentally. Why couldn’t he do that on paper? With a jolt of energy, Neel took out a piece of graph paper and a sharp pencil. Then he pulled out the protractor, ruler, and compass. Might as well do this right, he thought. Each millimeter is one hundred steps, Neel. He grinned for the first time in days, realizing he sounded just like Headmaster mangling a saying.

  Ma finished her prayers and came in to say good night. “Studying in earnest this time? That’s my smart boy. I’ve always known that you would find a way to help our family.”

  Rupa returned from her chores and studied Neel’s drawing. She turned to their mother. “You should rest, Ma. Remember what the doctor said.”

  “Come and lie beside me, Daughter,” Ma said. “If you stroke my forehead, maybe I can fall asleep. And wake me the moment your baba returns.”

  Rupa gave her brother an encouraging pat on the shoulder before following Ma behind the sari. Neel continued to draw. He had to map it perfectly, step by step, centimeter by centimeter, this terrain that his feet knew so well: town center on the far side of the island, school building near the market and police station, the long walk past a dense mangrove forest, the detour to the freshwater pond, four creeks that crossed the raised path curving around this side of the island, his family’s small parcel of land, the tall tamarind tree, the dock where his father’s nauka floated with the others . . . He bent over the paper, measuring distances with the ruler, erasing and redrawing the curves of the shore and the width of the creeks and deltas, twisting the compass to draw the circle of the pond, and using the protractor to angle the twists of the path.

  As he began to sketch the patches of dense forest in the interior of the island, he thought of the times he’d played hide-and-seek with Ajay and Viju. Where did they hide? He remembered squeezing through the guava trees and dense bushes on the far side of the pond, crawling on his hands and knees in the underbrush that bordered the rice paddies, ducking behind the long, arched bridge spanning the widest part of the creek . . . Now his drawing was taking him to places Gupta’s men might never think to look. Thanks to the thick bushes and the swamps and muddy banks that bordered the creeks, only small bodies could wiggle into the dry nooks and crannies of the island. She’s got to be in one of these spots! he thought, beginning to calculate the high tide for the night. It had been a full moon three nights earlier, so if the high tides came in at 1:30 a.m. and 1:30 p.m. that day, the next day they would have come in forty-five minutes later, at 2:15 a.m. and 2:15 p.m., and so on. That means tonight’s high tide will come at 3:45 a.m.—we’ll need to start searching soon!

  Neel turned off the lamp and heard his sister’s sari rustle as she eased through the divider to join him. She was carrying the extra flashlight and two tiger masks.

  “I finished my map,” Neel said, his voice low as he spread it out.

  “Good. I knew your head would come to the rescue. Let me see it.”

  Rupa flashed the light across it and smiled. “Looks like you used some math, didn’t you?”

  He shrugged. “I had to. I needed it to be as true to scale as possible. I thought of three or four good hiding spots as I was sketching—places Gupta’s men would never think to look. Not even Baba.”

  “Really? That’s wonderful, Neel!”

  “There’s one behind the pond. We’ll start with that. We need to leave now so we don’t run into the high tide.”

  “OK. Let’s go.” Rupa handed Neel a mask and the flashlight. Then she slipped a decoy over the back of her own head and picked up the empty pail and a cotton undervest of Neel’s.

  “Bring a sundari stick,” she whispered.

  He grabbed one from the pile in the corner and followed Rupa outside to the courtyard. Slowly, so the gate wouldn’t creak, she opened the goat pen and stroked the mother goat’s back. The goat seemed surprised to see visitors this late, but she relaxed at Rupa’s familiar touch.

  After a few more soothing words and caresses, Rupa was able to milk her until the pail was more than half full. “Let’s go,” she whispered, tucking the vest into the waist of her sari. “Bring the stick. And don’t use that flashlight unless we absolutely need it. We’d be spotted right away.”

  Nine

  AS THEY HURRIED ALONG the familiar path to the pond, Neel was glad the moonlight made it bright enough to see without the flashlight. But it also meant Gupta’s men could spot them at any minute. And Baba, our Baba, is with them!

  “Maybe they’re searching on the other side of the island,” Rupa whispered. Clearly she, too, was worried about being caught.

  Now they were almost to the detour that led to the pond. In the moonlight Neel was able to push through the bushes and find the thin trail that circled the water. He’d walked there in the daylight and his feet knew the way, but the sounds were different now. Snakes slithered freely at night, and a cobra bite could be deadly. Neel trod carefully and kept the light on the ground around their feet. Rupa stayed close behind him, and he could hear the milk sloshing in the pail. Was it too loud?

  On the other side of the pond, guava trees crowded the bank. When the trail faded into dense foliage, Neel handed Rupa the flashlight. “I’m going to hunt around a bit,” he whispered. “She might be in there. Keep the light on me if you can.”

  “Be careful—don’t go too far.”

  As Neel crawled around the tree trunks and through the bushes, Rupa followed his movements with the flashlight. But there was no sign of the cub— no sound of mewing and no pugmarks anywhere. After more fruitless searching, they headed back to the main path.

  “Where next?” Rupa asked.

  About an hour had passed since they’d left the house, Neel guessed. He pulled out his map, and once again Rupa shone the light across it. “It’s still low tide,” he said. “We can search the banks by the big creek.”

  Deep in a ravine carved by the water at the southern tip of the island, past the reach of the tides and through a tunnel of prickly bushes, there was a narrow cave in the big creek’s bank. The place was cool and dry and completely out of sight. He’d found it while playing hide-and-seek with Ajay and Viju years before. His friends had been searching for him on the bridge, and he’d stayed hidden for a while before creeping out and startling them with a whoop. He’d never told them about the cave and had forgotten about it himself until his map had taken him back to it. He doubted anybody else in the village knew it was there. Might have been washed away by the cyclone, Neel thought, but it’s worth a try.

  This creek was so big it was almost a river. A long, h
igh bamboo bridge spanned it, and dense, prickly foliage grew up the high, steep banks on either side. The only way down was during low tide, when a muddy path near one end of the bridge led to the estuary shore. As the high tide came in, salty water covered the lower half of the path and the shore and coursed deep into the ravine.

  Neel had calculated the tides perfectly; the whole path was above water. Moonlight sparkled across the wide, wet shore. Fiddler crabs scuttled here and there, excavating mud to create burrows before the tide came in. Reaching out a hand to help his sister jump down to the bank, Neel again kept an eye out for cobras. Maybe the bright moonlight here would keep them away. Other creatures, however, hunted for prey both day and night—like crocodiles. He risked a sweep of the bank with the flashlight.

  “Footprints!” Rupa hissed, pointing.

  Men had been searching along the banks and under the bridge. “These were made after the last high tide,” Neel said, wondering if any belonged to Baba. “They’re still fresh.”

  “Turn off the light,” Rupa said quickly. “Anyone passing on the bridge can see it.”

  Neel switched it off after making sure a long, still log nearby didn’t have teeth and eyes. He led his sister deeper into the ravine. The strip of mud between the water and the bank narrowed, even though it was still low tide. Suddenly a big cluster of golpata trees jogged his memory. He put down the sundari stick and motioned to Rupa to join him.

  She set the pail of milk down carefully and gazed up at the bank behind the golpata trees. It rose steeply and was covered by prickly bushes, vines, and bracken. “I don’t see how the cub could hide anywhere around here.”

  “There’s a perfect hiding spot in here. Unless it got washed away.”