Chained (11 page)

Sharad smiles and waves a gloved hand at the crowd—then trips over a branch on the ground.

Oh no.
I should have made sure the path to the arena was clear. After all our work day after day, I cannot believe I did something so stupid. Perhaps he will catch himself, and no one will notice.

But no, the crowd gasps as Sharad falls flat onto the ground. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he hadn’t cursed so loudly when he landed. My stomach tightens when I hear the
step-click-step
of Timir and his cane. I do not have to turn around to know he’s standing right behind me.

“See me in my office after the show,” he says.

Sharad stands up and brushes dirt from his clothes, then opens the gate and leads Nandita to the center of the arena. He holds her chain close, but she leans away from him as if she doesn’t want to get any closer to him than she has to. They stand in front of a wooden box painted in bright colors.

“Up,” Sharad orders. Nandita climbs onto the box.

She looks scared, like she wants to run away. I wish I could stand with her and pet her forehead to comfort her. Sharad clutches some palm leaves in his hand and slides them along Nandita’s head and back.

“I’ve never seen him pet her with palm leaves before. Does she like that?” I ask Ne Min.

“Look closer,” he says.

When Sharad moves his arm, I notice a bit of the silver handle he hides in his sleeve.

“He tied the palm leaves around the hook so he can hold it without anyone knowing?”

“Yes,” Ne Min says. He nods toward Nandita. “But she knows.” Certainly she feels the cold hook through the palm leaves when Sharad brushes them along her back.

Ne Min looks down and I put my hand on his shoulder.

The audience claps politely when Nandita follows Sharad’s commands to raise her trunk or her feet. A few people look around the property, like they’re wondering what else there is to see here. Timir waves his hand to signal Sharad to move on.

“Down,” Sharad says. “Sit.” More people clap when Nandita sits on the wooden box like it’s a chair, her front feet out in front of her. Sharad takes a piece of fruit from his pocket and gives the treat to Nandita.

She performs a few more tricks: she waves her trunk when Sharad instructs her to “Say hello,” and she stands on her hind legs. Nandita waits in the center of the arena while Sharad walks toward me. I do not notice the hoop until he picks it up from where it leans against the fence, right in front of our bench. He walks to Nandita and holds the hoop in front of her, then points to the center of the hoop with the leaf-covered hook.

“Step through,” he says.

Nandita does not step through. She stands in place.

“Step through,” Sharad orders again. He holds the palm leaves behind one of Nandita’s front legs. The people in the audience shift in their seats. I glance at Timir where he stands next to the fence. He clutches his cane so tightly the color of his hand matches the ivory handle. Splinters dig into my fingertips where I grip the edge of the wooden bench.

Finally, Nandita raises her foot. Sharad points again to the center of the hoop. Nandita ducks her head and steps one leg after another through the hoop. The crowd applauds, then cheers and claps louder when Sharad points the palm leaves at the ground, prompting Nandita to take a bow.

Sharad gives Nandita her treat, then steps forward to take a bow himself. Nandita circles away from him and raises her trunk.

Don’t do it.

Nandita slaps Sharad’s bottom. The laughter of the audience grows louder. Sharad spins toward her, his hand raised. He glances at the crowd, then lowers the hook. Again, he holds the hoop and orders Nandita to walk through it. Nandita snatches the hoop from Sharad’s hand, then runs across the arena, holding the hoop high with her trunk. The audience roars with laughter as a yelling, red-faced Sharad chases Nandita. When he catches up with her, he grabs the hoop and throws it to the ground. He holds the palm leaves behind Nandita’s leg and leads her back to the center of the arena.

After he catches his breath, Sharad announces, “Now for the last event of the show…” He ignores the disappointed groan from the audience and rolls a ball out from underneath the wooden box. Some children in the audience jump up from their seats and stand close to the fence when they see the ball.

Sharad sets up a sawhorse on either side of the arena. The one on the far side has a flat elephant-shaped piece of wood nailed to it.

He drops the ball to the ground and dribbles it from side to side with his feet, then passes it to Nandita. The crowd cheers for her as she runs with the ball in front of her toward the sawhorse marked with the wooden elephant. Sharad runs alongside her. I don’t know if Nandita really means to run the ball into the goal. Maybe Sharad just trained her to run to the sawhorse, and the ball is propelled forward by the force of the lumbering elephant behind it.

When she is close to her goal, Nandita stops running. She walks up to the ball when it comes to a rest, then kicks it so it rolls under the sawhorse. The audience laughs and applauds for the first point of the game. Sharad gives her two pieces of fruit, then retrieves the ball. Nandita runs next to him as he kicks the ball across the arena. The audience claps when Sharad kicks the ball into his goal, but not as loudly as they did for Nandita.

After they each score one more point, Sharad again passes the ball to Nandita. The crowd grows noisier as she approaches her goal. Just before Nandita can kick the ball into her goal, Sharad steals the ball from her. A disappointed “Awwww!” rises from the crowd when Sharad makes a long kick across the arena to score another point for himself.

Nandita walks, head down, to the center of the arena. Perhaps she is just disappointed about missing out on more treats, but she seems sadder than that, as if she somehow knows she lost the game. Sharad picks up the ball from his goal, then joins Nandita.

“Not a bad player for a little elephant.” He pats her head. “Thank you all for coming to the show. Please come again, for you will enjoy—”

Nandita’s trunk knocks the ball out from under Sharad’s arm. She steps behind the ball and runs again toward her goal. The audience stands up to cheer when she scores another point.

She jogs back to the center of the arena. Sharad tries to smile but looks sick to his stomach as he and Nandita both take a bow.

We wave goodbye to our departing visitors until the last vehicle drives out of sight. Then Sharad rips the palm leaves from the elephant hook and turns toward the arena. Timir grabs his arm after his first step.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“To teach that elephant a lesson,” says Sharad.

“You’ll do nothing of the kind. That was perfect.”

“What? She ruined the show—she made a fool out of me!”

“What she made is a lot of money for us. The crowd loved it. Some of them will come back, and they’ll tell others to come. And when they do, you will perform the show the same way you did today.”

*   *   *

After cleaning the arena, I go to Timir’s office like he asked. He was so happy about the show, I have some hope that he will not punish me too harshly for not picking up the branch. I hear voices as I approach the office, so I wait outside the door while Timir talks to Sharad.

“People were asking for elephant rides,” says Timir. “How soon can we offer that?”

“I’ll have to train her, and she’s too small to carry an adult yet,” says Sharad.

“Get the boy to help you then.”

“Maybe when she knows her other tricks better. Right now there isn’t time—”

“Your father could have done it,” says Timir. “Too bad he’s not around.”

Sharad says nothing, and the shuffling of papers tells me that Timir has turned back to the work on his desk.

Sharad clears his throat and speaks again, but his voice is so quiet I have to lean closer to the doorway to hear him.

“I suppose I could find some time to practice,” he says. “About the boy, though—I’d rather not work with him.”

With Timir’s next words, I shiver as if facing a gust of wind on a rainy night.

“You might as well get used to him. He’s here to stay.”

17

On cold nights, elephants huddle close to their young to keep them warm.

—From
Care of Jungle Elephants
by Tin San Bo

It is near the end of winter, and my hopes have faded like the sun.

People spread word about the funny elephant show, like Timir said they would. Nandita performs three times a week, each time to a full audience. Still, Timir isn’t happy—the show’s success has made him greedier instead of satisfied. He adds extra shows to the schedule, and we are all overworked. Nandita especially.

After each performance, Sharad calls me to help train Nandita to give rides. She’s gotten better these past few weeks, but it took a long time for her to get used to having someone on her back. When I first climbed on she ran in circles until I fell off. She allows me to stay on now, but it’s still a bumpy ride.

Sharad throws a blanket onto Nandita’s back and secures it with a rope, then commands her to kneel onto her front legs. I climb up and hang on to the rope as she walks around the arena. When she speeds up to a jog I have to lean forward, ignoring the scratchiness of her hair on my face, and cling to her neck so I don’t fall off.

Sometimes I have to drag her to the spring for her bath, and it’s harder to wake her each morning. I would do anything to help her, if only I knew what that was.

Nandita seems nervous, too. She startles easily when she hears a loud noise, and rocks herself back and forth in the arena. A circular rut is worn into the ground where she paces around the wooden post.

One thing is better: my chores have become easier as the months have passed. When I haul water from the spring, the tub seems lighter every day. I fill it just as high as before, but I travel faster and no longer have to stop and rest on my way back to the cook shed. Chopping wood is easier, too. My arms have grown larger, and the ax is not heavy in my hands like it was when I first arrived. My hands are now tough with calluses. “You are growing like a bamboo stalk after a monsoon,” Ne Min tells me. I wish he were right. I feel like Timir will always tower over me.

I wonder how I will ever get home, and what I will find when I get there. My stomach bunches into a giant knot when I think about how long I’ll have to wait before I see my family again.

Thoughts of escape are with me every day. Sometimes during a show I think, Just run away. Leave the stable at night and don’t stop walking until you’re home. Then I argue with myself, But I promised I’d work here.

And what did Timir promise? Adventure! One year of service, when he never meant to let me go.

Another day I might be filling the water bucket at the spring, and the voice that is braver than I am jumps in again: What about now? If I walked away now, how soon before they’d notice I was gone?

But what would happen to my family? I’m working to pay Timir back for Chanda’s medicine and hospital stay.

And what would happen to Nandita? I promised I wouldn’t leave here without her.

Late at night I lie awake in the stable, my head throbbing. Long after I forget the reason Timir hit me again, the pain still lingers. With my fingers I trace the shape that the handle of Timir’s cane left on my forehead. I’ve done enough for him. When the time is right I will go. But when will that be?

I take the stone from my pocket. Once I asked Baba how the stone ever got out of the river where it tumbled around for so long. He didn’t know the answer to that.

*   *   *

Then one evening just after everyone has left and there’s still a little light in the sky, I stop fighting with myself. Instead of pushing aside the thoughts of leaving, I ignore the reasons to stay. I lead Nandita past the arena to the property fence and the large wooden gate. We’d leave through the wide metal gate if only it weren’t closed with a thick chain and padlock. Maybe Nandita can fit through this one.

I walk through the gate ahead of Nandita. She pauses and looks at the gap left by the open gate like she’s not sure she’ll be able to pass through it. I’m not sure either, but we don’t have another way out.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” I tug Nandita’s chain to coax her forward.

The fence creaks and groans as she squeezes through the gate. Flecks of bark, scraped free from the wooden posts, drift to the grass. A tight fit, but Nandita makes it. We’re outside the circus grounds.

We run along the fence line until we reach the path that leads to the river. Our first stop will be the forest where I last saw her family. They must wonder how she’s doing. Will they still be there? I don’t know if elephant herds move around or if they keep their homes in one place. But there’s nowhere else to take Nandita.

Which way will I go after I leave her in the forest? I stop to look around, then close my eyes to think. I remember the blinding sunlight the morning Timir drove me away from my home.

When I open my eyes, I find the last orange glow of the sunset. My home will be that way.

We continue walking toward the river. Now and then I glance at the place the sun sets each night, at times pointing to it, so I will not lose it as the sky grows dark.

The farther we walk and the darker and colder it gets, the more I wish I had a better plan. When I exhale I see my breath in front of me, white like smoke. I am running to the wilderness with nothing except the clothes I wear, a pocketknife, and a trained elephant on a chain.

Now what?
We’re at the river where Nandita used to come with her herd. If they were here before, they’ve already left for the evening. Maybe they’re close enough to hear Nandita if she calls to them, but how can I make her do that?

I unlatch her chain and drop it to the ground.

“Go on,” I tell her. “Go look for your family.”

Nandita touches my face with her trunk. I kiss her forehead and wrap my arms around her neck.

“Goodbye, Nandita.” When I pet her head, the bristles of reddish-brown hair tickle my hand. “You are free now. Both of us are. Remember your friend Indurekha, who looks like moonlight through the clouds? You will play in the river tomorrow like you used to.”