Tiger's Curse (10 page)

In surprisingly fast time, the woman returned, balancing four 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 into 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?”

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

I pointed to a triangular pastry filled with spicy vegetables. “What is this called?”

“This
samosa
.”

“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 outside. There wasn’t 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. They seemed to be having an argument. The longer I watched them, the stronger my conviction became that it
was
Mr. Kadam, but he was arguing hotly with the younger man, and I couldn’t picture Mr. Kadam ever becoming angry like that.

Huh, that’s weird
, I thought and tried to catch a few words through the open window. The older man said
nahi mahodaya
often, and the younger man kept saying
avashyak
or something like that. I thumbed through my Hindi dictionary and found
nahi mahodaya
easily. It meant
no way
or
no, sir
. A
vashyak
was harder because I had to figure out how to spell it, but I eventually found it. That word meant
necessary
or
essential
, something that
must be
or
has 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, 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 the older man really was Mr. Kadam or not.

Grabbing the loose door handle, I twisted it and pushed it open. It squeaked on rusty hinges. I walked across the dirt road and over to the truck, but still, I didn’t see anyone. Circling the truck, I stopped at the back and saw that Ren was alert and watching me from his cage. But the two men and the driver had disappeared. I peeked into the cab. No one was there.

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?”

“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 as I thought about my math-loving 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. I picked up my backpack, opened the squeaky door, and stepped outside.

The truck was gone.

h
ow could the truck be gone?

I ran out to the gas pump and looked both ways down the dirt road. Nothing. No dust cloud. No people. Nothing.

Maybe the driver forgot about me? Maybe he needed to get something and is coming back? Maybe the truck was stolen and the driver is still around here somewhere?
I knew none of these were likely scenarios, but they made me feel hopeful—if only for a minute.

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. Everything seemed to be in order.

Suddenly, 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 just 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?”

Tired, scared, and alone, my mom’s words of advice came flooding back: “bad things sometimes happen to good people”; “the key to happiness is to try to make the best of, and be thankful for, the hand we’re dealt,” and her all-time favorite, “when life gives you lemons, make lemon meringue pie.” Mom had tried and practically given up having kids—and then I came along. She always said that you never know what’s going to be right around the corner.

So, I focused on the positives. First, I still had all my clothes. Second, I had my traveling papers and a bag full of money. That was the good news. The bad news, of course, was that my ride was gone and a tiger was on the loose! I decided the first order of business was to secure Ren. I went back to the store and bought some jerky snacks and a long length of rope.

With my newly acquired fluorescent-yellow 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 would have been to go back to the store, borrow a phone, and call Mr. Kadam. He could send some people, professional-type people, to catch him. But I was far from thinking sensibly at this point. I was afraid for Ren. I had absolutely no fear of him for myself, but what if others panicked and used weapons to subdue him? I also worried that even if he escaped, he couldn’t survive in the jungle. He wasn’t used to hunting on his own. I knew it was utterly foolish, but 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 bag. I could keep up with him but the extra weight was too much for me to overtake him.

He wasn’t moving very quickly, but he always managed to keep several paces ahead of me. Suddenly, he loped off and darted into the jungle. My backpack bobbed heavily up and down as I chased after him. After about fifteen minutes of pursuit, 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,
please
come 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.

Whenever I thought I’d finally catch him, he’d accelerate and leap ahead a few feet, causing me to chase after him again. I felt like he was playing a game with me. He was always just out of reach. After following Ren for another fifteen minutes and still not catching him, I decided to take a break from my pursuit. I knew I’d traveled far from town, and the light was dimming. I was totally lost.

Ren must have realized that I wasn’t following him anymore because he finally slowed, 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 had traveled deep into the jungle, looped in and out of trees, and twisted and turned numerous times. I realized, with great despair, that I’d lost all sense of direction. It was twilight, and the dark canopy of trees overhead blocked 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.

I twisted the rope around my hands nervously and grumbled at the tiger. “Thanks a lot, Mister! Where am I? What am I doing? I’m who-knows-where in India, in the jungle, at night, with a tiger on a rope!”

Ren sat down quietly beside me.

My fear overwhelmed me for a minute, and I felt as if the jungle was closing in. All the distinctive sounds rushed to clatter and wrestle with my frightened mind, attacking my common sense. I imagined creatures stalking me, their glassy, hostile eyes watching 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 a jungle, but I figured there was no point in
me
trying to lead the way. I had no idea where we were. Ren continued walking on some unseen path, pulling 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 cut through the darkness.

In the shadows, the dense jungle appeared menacing, not that it wasn’t equally as terrifying during the day, but my measly flashlight beam didn’t penetrate very far, which made the situation even worse. When the thin moon appeared and dispersed its beams intermittently through the thick tree cover overhead, Ren’s coat gleamed where the silvery light 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 ahead. I turned my flashlight to him and saw prickly undergrowth scratching his silvery white fur. He responded to the thorns by roughly shoving the plants aside with his body, almost as if he were making a path for me.

After walking for a long time, he finally pulled me near a copse of bamboo that was growing near a large teak tree. He stuck his nose up in the air, smelling for who-knows-what and then wandered over to a grassy area and lay down.

“Well, I guess that means this is where we sleep for the night.” I shrugged out of my backpack while grousing, “Great. No, really. It’s a lovely choice. I’d give it four stars if it included a mint.”

First, I untied the rope from Ren’s collar, figuring that my trying to keep him from running away was moot at this point, and then crouched down and unzipped my bag. Pulling out a long-sleeved shirt, I tied it around my waist and got out two water bottles and three energy bars. I unwrapped two of the energy bars and held them out to Ren.

He carefully took one out of my hand and gulped it down.

“Should a tiger eat energy bars? You probably need something with more protein, and the only thing around here with protein is me, but don’t even think about it. I taste
terrible
.”

He quirked his head at me as if seriously considering it, then quickly swallowed the second energy bar. I opened the third and slowly nibbled on it. Unzipping another pocket, I found the lighter and decided to make a fire. Searching by flashlight, I was surprised to find a good amount of wood close by.

Remembering my Girl Scout days, I built a small fire. The wind blew it out the first two times, but the third time it took, making homey little crackling sounds.

Satisfied with my work and setting aside larger logs to add later, I moved over to the backpacks closer to the fire. Finding a plastic bag in the pack, I picked up a large curved piece of bark, shoved small chunks of wood on the ends, and lined the inside with the bag. I poured a bottle of water into it and carried my makeshift bowl over to Ren. He lapped it all up and kept licking the bag, so I poured in another bottle for him, which he also drank greedily.

I walked back to the fire and was startled by an ominous howl nearby. Ren jumped up at once and rushed off in a whirl, disappearing into the darkness. I heard a deep growling and then an incensed and vicious snarl. I stared gravely into the darkness between the trees where Ren had disappeared, but he soon returned unharmed and began rubbing his side on the teak tree. Satisfied with that tree, he moved on to another one, and another one, until he’d rubbed up against every tree that surrounded us.

“Gee, Ren. That must be some itch.” Leaving him to his scratching, I plumped the softer bag with my clothes in it to use for a pillow and slipped my long-sleeved shirt over my head. I pulled out my quilt, hating to get it dirty but desperately needing the warmth and comfort it offered, and spread it out over my legs. Then I eased onto my side, tucked my hand under my cheek, stared at the fire, and felt fat tears slide down my face.

I started listening to the eerie sounds around me. I heard clicks, whistles, pops, and cracks everywhere, and started to imagine creepy crawly things burrowing in my hair and down into my socks. I shivered and sat up to tuck my quilt around me snugly, so that it covered every part of my body, and settled to the ground again wrapped up mummy-style.