Chained (6 page)

I dread the sound of Timir’s angry yelling when I tell him that yet again we failed to catch an elephant. But the sound I dread even more is that of an elephant crashing into the trap.

Today when I climb the banyan tree to watch the elephants, dark storm clouds swirl over the forest. I grasp a branch and hold my breath as the herd leaves the riverbank. They move closer to the trap below me and I stare at its covering of branches and leaves, praying the elephants will safely avoid it again. That’s it, walk around it, I think as one by one they pass it by.

Nandita lags behind, and an older elephant nudges her with her trunk. When I lean forward for a better look, the branch I grab shakes. A ripe fig from the banyan tree falls through the air. The fruit lands on the branches that hide the trap’s opening.

Nandita turns to the fig. She reaches for it, and her foot brushes the edge of the trap.

“No!” I yell. At the sound of my voice, Nandita darts forward. The cover of branches and leaves falls away when she tumbles and disappears into the pit. I hear a crash, then a howling cry.

Branches shake as the elephants bellow and run circles around the banyan tree. Some of the elephants reach their trunks into the trap to grab Nandita’s trunk and pull. But the hole is too deep. I press my hands against my ears to try to block out the herd’s painful wails and screams.

I don’t know how much time passes, but when the herd finally grows quiet, the forest is growing dark. The largest elephant turns to continue leading the herd down the path. One by one the others follow. The leader grumbles at the few who stay behind and call to Nandita, who cries out from the trap. Soon they, too, leave the riverbank.

One last elephant remains near the trap. She is the quiet one I call Sanjana. The tree shudders at her thundering roar of fury.

Nandita’s mother.

*   *   *

It starts to rain, and the banyan tree shelters me with its tangle of branches. I watch and listen to the mother elephant and her baby call to each other. A few elephants from the herd stop and call to Sanjana.

She wails and paces back and forth in front of the trap. What if she never leaves? I might have to stay in this tree all night.

With one last touch of her trunk to her child, Sanjana turns away to join the herd. After every few steps, she looks back and cries out to Nandita again. Long after the elephants are out of sight, the wailing echoes through the forest.

Nandita’s mother has left her. She will be without her family now, and it’s all my fault.

I scramble down the tree. At the edge of the trap, I lean forward to peer into the darkness of the pit. The smell of wet earth and rotten leaves hangs thick in the air. When a movement of gray lets me know that Nandita is pacing the floor of the trap, I sigh with relief. The blanket of leaves was enough to protect her when she fell. The young elephant still cries out from the trap.

“Shhh, you’ll be all right. I’ll take care of you,” I tell her. “I’m sorry,” I add, because I am one of her captors.

Even in the dark her eyes look wild and scared. I think back to Amma, desperate to find a way to make Chanda well. If I were strong enough, I would pull Nandita out of the trap and lead her through the forest to her family.

But I can’t help her now. I’ll have to go tell Timir about Nandita, but I don’t want to leave without doing something for her.

I run to the mango tree and snap off the limb with the largest fruit. When I return to the trap, I lie down and lower the mango branch into the pit.

“Here—are you hungry?”

She grabs the branch and yanks it from my hand. A jagged twig scrapes my palm.

“
Aieee!
Be patient! I’m trying to help you.” I shake my stinging hand. Nandita still paces around the trap, calling to the herd. I wish I could help her understand what’s going on. I am away from my family, too, but at least I know why.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back.” I walk away from Nandita.

I stop to glance once more at what I am leaving behind in the jungle. A knot of betrayal sits in my stomach as I turn away to return to the circus grounds.

*   *   *

Rain has soaked through my clothes by the time I see the glow of lantern light in the cook shed. I’m so late that Ne Min must have made dinner without me. My shivering body is ready to be in front of the oven fire, but I slow as I approach.

The elephant will be all right. I will take good care of her. She’ll be happy with me. Just as I reach the shed, I remember Timir’s words to my mother, before he drove me away from my village.
“Don’t worry, Parvati. I’ll take good care of your boy. He will be quite happy, I promise.”

Everyone is sitting at the table, eating dinner. When they notice me the room grows quiet. My hand goes to my pocket and the comfort of the stone.

I look at the ground. “Sorry. Still no elephant.”

9

An elephant will not step where it does not feel safe.

—From
Care of Jungle Elephants
by Tin San Bo

Timir flings his plate across the room. I jump back when it shatters against the wall. His unfinished dinner slides to the floor. Timir’s face reminds me of an overripe tomato ready to burst in the heat. He reaches across the table and grabs Sharad by the shirt. His voice carries throughout the cook shed like the hiss of a snake.

“How many elephants are there in India?”

Sharad’s eyes scan the room, as if someone here has the answer. “I don’t know—thousands.”

“Then how is it possible you cannot manage to catch even one?” Timir releases him with a shove, and Sharad tumbles to the floor.

“Tomorrow morning, you idiots are going to dig a new trap—in a place where you can catch something this time. Enough of this waiting!”

He turns to me then. “And what took you so long?” he yells.

“The elephants—they stayed at the river longer than usual. I waited for them to walk by the trap.”

He points his cane at me. “No more playing around in the woods!” he says before he storms out.

Dinnertime here is so different from home. Here there is too much heat, and too much noise. Not that mealtimes in our courtyard are quiet, but noise made of laughter and neighbors talking and children playing doesn’t give me the ache in my stomach that shouting and throwing plates does. At home I never saw anyone grab someone in anger, or shove, or yell like Timir yells. People argue sometimes, but their raised voices don’t hold the venom of Timir’s.

Ne Min picks up a broom.

“Wait, I’ll get that,” I say, then take the broom from him to sweep up the food and pieces of broken plate from the floor.

“Good thing the elephants leave the river at sundown,” he says. “Long ago, I heard of an elephant that was caught in a trap overnight. He was attacked by a tiger.”

I glance outside, in the direction of the forest, then look back to Ne Min.

He smiles. “Don’t worry, he was all right,” he says. “He was a fighter, that one. But most elephants would not be so lucky.”

*   *   *

Late at night I lie awake in the stable. I cannot stop thinking about Nandita, stuck in the trap. I didn’t want the men to take her out of the forest, but I didn’t have a plan for what to do with her. What can I do? In the morning the workers will find her. But what if a tiger finds her first?

It will be my fault. I am the reason she’s alone in the trap now and I’m the only one who knows the danger she is in.

I jump up and grab my torch, then light it after checking to make sure the rain has stopped.

The sounds of animals I do not recognize echo all around as I hurry back to the river. I’m thankful I can’t see everything that lurks in the night.

As I get closer to the trap, I start to run. Branches scratch my arms and face, but I keep running.

Finally I reach the pit. I kneel at the edge and lean over with my torch. I need to see, but I am afraid of what I will find. The shape of the elephant glows in the light.

“Hey there—are you all right?” I whisper. “I came back, just like I told you.”

The wind rustles the tree branches above. Frogs and crickets sing in a chorus around me. I lower my torch into the trap, careful not to touch Nandita. Her back rises and falls with her breathing as she sleeps. I sigh with relief.

I search the area for something that will help free Nandita. My torchlight cannot pierce the thick darkness of the forest, and I stumble over a fallen tree. When I hold my torch close I see that it’s a palm tree. It isn’t very tall, but it might be wide enough to make a ramp for Nandita. I stick my torch in the ground, then grab the tree with both hands and pull.

It is heavier than I thought. My hands slip off the trunk and I land on the damp ground. The smell of wet earth fills my nose. I stand and plant my feet on the ground to try again. My back and arm muscles strain as I pull. The tree finally slides away from its resting place. Insects and spiders scatter. Something slithers past my feet, and I drop the tree and leap aside. I scan the ground with the torchlight. Nothing. I tiptoe back to the tree, pausing after each step to look and listen for a snake.

Again I grab hold of the tree and drag it toward the trap. Sweat drips into my eyes and down my back, even though the air is chilly. I stop to sit and rest. With only two more steps I will be standing at the edge of the pit.

And then what? Will this even work? My muscles ache as I stand once more to pull the tree to the trap. One step, then two—then the muddy edge of the trap falls away. I cry out and grip the trunk when my feet slide into the pit. The bark scrapes my hands that claw the tree. My feet try to dig into the sides of the trap. The mud slips away, not allowing me any foothold. Thankfully the tree is too heavy to fall into the trap with me.

Nandita, now awake after my shout, trumpets and bellows her anger. Her trunk slaps at my legs dangling into the pit.

“Look, I don’t want to be in here either!” I yell. “What am I supposed to do?” Nandita paces the floor of the trap. She bumps into my feet when she passes beneath me. My hand slips and I clutch the tree tighter. Squinting, my eyes follow the grayness of her back as she circles the inside of the pit.
“Come on, help me out,”
I beg Nandita, or Ganesh, or anyone who is listening.

Nandita walks under me again, and I step onto her back. My arms shaking, I use the last of my strength to push off Nandita’s back and lift myself up until I can lay my chest on the flat ground. I crawl on my elbows until I am completely out of the trap. On the ground I rest to catch my breath as I listen to the thrashing, bellowing elephant.

“All right, Nandita, let’s get you out of there, too.” I ease the dead tree over the opening of the pit. Nandita reaches up her trunk. The tree hovers over the trap. Little by little I slide the tree forward until it touches the other side of the trap. Easing up, I let the end of the tree slide into the pit until the far end hits the ground.

Now that the tree is in the trap next to Nandita, it doesn’t look so big. Why did I think this would work? Even if I get her to step onto the tree, it’s going to snap in two under her weight.

I drop my head onto my arms and cry. This isn’t fair. She didn’t choose to be away from her family to work, like I did. But I don’t know what else to do for her.

As I grow sleepy I fight against my drooping eyelids. I pick up a stick and peel away the bark with my pocketknife. A small pile of shavings collects at my feet before the torchlight dies. Finally I fall asleep.

I wake with a start. Branches shake overhead. Something jumps from a tree and lands on the opposite riverbank. I should turn to see what’s there, but I sit frozen. Moving only my eyes, I dare to glance across the river.

A pair of glowing eyes stares back at me. I slide my hand to my torch, forgetting it no longer holds a flame. I can make out the outline of a large cat. Not as large as an adult tiger, though. Maybe a leopard? Or could it be a young tiger? Do they attack things that are bigger than they are? Hopefully its mother isn’t around. I scan the forest for another pair of eyes piercing the darkness. My hand searches the ground for my pocketknife, even though it will not be of much use if I’m attacked. I don’t want to harm an animal, but what if the animal harms me first? Or if it harms someone I care about? I look into the trap again, where Nandita sleeps, then back to the cat.

I force myself to quiet my breathing. The water splashes as the animal dips its paw into the river, then the silver skin of a fish flops onto the riverbank. I sit trembling next to the trap while the animal eats its dinner. Hopefully the fish will be enough.

With one last look, the cat turns and disappears into the darkness of the forest.

My heart’s beating so fast, I’m sure it will keep me awake the rest of the night.

But I must have drifted off to sleep, because the sound of a nearby animal startles me awake again. I laugh when I see it is only a peahen, digging in the ground for its breakfast. Sunlight peeks through the trees. I lean over the edge of the trap and see Nandita staring up at me.

“I’m so glad you’re all right!” I tell her. “I’ll go pick some mangoes for you.”

As I rip a branch from the mango tree, I hear another sound in the distance, one as unwelcome as a tiger’s growl. The truck from the circus sputters to a stop at the edge of the trees. My heart races as it had when I saw the big cat. I am out of time. Nandita is trapped, and I can’t do anything more to save her.

I have not thought how to explain why I’m here, covered with mud, or why the trap now holds an elephant—and a dead tree.

10

What one hundred men will drink in a day, so will an elephant.

—From
Care of Jungle Elephants
by Tin San Bo

A trail from the tree stump to the trap shows where I dragged the tree. As the workmen climb out of the truck I race along the length of the trail and kick leaves over the dirt to cover it.

“What are you doing here?” Sharad asks when he sees me. “Timir is furious that you ran away.”

I remember the mouse Timir crushed when he warned me about leaving the grounds without permission.