The Night Hunter: Wildlife conservation is our Dharma.

He was resting on the huge sal tree on the outskirts of this remote village somewhere in northern Bhaarath. The night had just set in and the moon was playing hide and seek with the clouds. He could hear the distant yaps of the village dogs barking into the night and that set his gastric juices flowing with a rumble in his empty stomach. Dogs were an all time favourite on his menu. Now and then the silence was interspersed with faint human voices coming out of the village, which his hypersensitive ears picked up with ease. But from recent experience he knew that it was nothing to be concerned about. It was time for him to begin his nightly excursion into the village in search of an easy meal. Most of the times, the stray dogs served to that end. Now and then one of them would come bounding recklessly out of the village into the edge of the surrounding forest, unaware of the lurking danger in the shadows, and become his meal in no time. But the surviving ones now were becoming more circumspect in evading him.

For the past few days, he had become bolder and shifted his attentions to the village bakri (goat) and murgi (poultry),housed in the various enclosures fenced with thorn bushes. But the fences posed no problem for him. He either leapt over them without effort or somehow found a breach through which he managed to sneak in. During his initial forays the bakris would become hysterical as he prowled on the outside of the fence looking for a way in. Those first few times, the herdsmen were roused from their sleep and came running to inspect the commotion. The hunter had then melted away into the darkness, instinctively wary as he was of humans. But his fear receded with each passing night and the last few times he had succeeded in breaching the fence and making a kill and dragging away the carcass. The previous night, especially, he had leapt over the fence and dragged out a goat kid from right under the nose of the herdsman, Lallu, with impunity. When Lallu had attempted to scare him with his stick, he had coughed and lashed out with a murderous hiss and sent the poor man scampering back to his tiny government built brick house. The hunter then carried his prey to the forest where he hoisted it up the sal tree with Herculean strength and rested the carcass on a fork. It was here that he fed on it with leisure.

He had been calling the sal tree home for the past three years and yet none of the villagers knew about his existence, save the past month. Prior to his nightly raids on the village, he lived and glided like a ghost in thick cover. None of the villagers had seen him whenever they had ventured into the forest for firewood and honey even when he was at close quarters. It was as if he was there and he was not, such was his camouflage. He hunted exclusively in the forest and was never tempted to check out the village. Human beings instinctively chimed warning bells in his head and he kept out of their way. He had even avoided their goats whenever the herdsmen led them into the forest for grazing.  Moreover, the forest had never run out of prey. His menu was varied to the extreme and included the big and the small, the scaly and the feathery, and anything he chanced upon. He constantly adapted his hunting techniques to the various prey and opportunities as they presented themselves and was a master of survival even in times of paucity. But recently he had shifted his attentions to the human habitation and it was growing on him like a bad habit. He relished the ease with which the meal came to him. But there was a huge and compelling reason behind this menu change.

Illegal logging activity by criminal mafia, political elements, and unscrupulous wood contractors had increased in the forest in recent months. One would have expected the resident forest officer, Bhim Singh, to take some action in this regard, but his hands were tied and his mouth shut by bribes and threats. Most of these illegal loggers had political patronage from the various MLAs/thugs in the State Assembly.  As a result, illegal logging had increased exponentially in the forest to such an extent that the habitat of many animals had shrunk considerably and in some cases even destroyed. Some of the state politicians also indulged in illegal poaching whenever they came with their henchmen to check on their logging cronies. And whenever they came, they stayed at the opulently furnished guest-house of the local forest office. Bhim Singh pandered them with wine and women and took the utmost of care to make their stay a memorable one. As a result, there was a big line of MLAs waiting their turn for a hunting holiday. Consequently, all this hunting had now decimated the wildlife in the forest.

The hunter stretched lazily with a cavernous yawn so typical of his kind before he alighted from the tree with an athletic jump that could put even the best of champion Olympic gymnasts to shame. His landing was supremely graceful and immaculate, a 11 out of 10. He then proceeded to stalk the village in smooth steps. Not even a twig snapped or a dry leaf crackled under his velvety feet. But these same feet could efficiently disembowel his victims in a few deft strokes. But when he reached the village, he dropped all caution. Gone was the instinctive fear of human beings, especially after the last couple of nights. The villagers in turn were also scared to venture out into the night, especially after the experience of the herdsman Lallu. This morning, the villagers had approached Bhim Singh about this problematic night hunter and fervently begged him to do something about the matter. Bhim Singh was busy unofficially entertaining one of the state MLAs with some naive juvenile tribal girls at that time and sent the villagers back with false assurances. ‘Sub kuch teekh kardenge. Saale ko paaltu banaayenge. Varna humra naam Bhim Singh naahi ... haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan (I will take care of everything and make the idiot my pet.  Otherwise my name is not Bhim Singh),’ he called out loudly to the departing villagers, twitching his abundant moustache between his index finger and thumb.  But he did nothing in this regard.

Now the hunter prowled around Lallu’s fence again as it was the most isolated of all the houses in the village. This time Lallu did not dare come out as his goats bleated and milled around in the enclosure hysterical with fear. He just screamed loudly from behind the locked door of his small brick house. The hunter did not even flinch as he tested the fence for any signs of weakness. He always preferred this method to leaping over. But this time around the fence showed no soft points. So he tried the leap and cleared the fence on his third attempt. He landed calmly amongst the terrified goats and took his time in selecting a suitable victim. Now and then he lashed and mauled a goat that could not get out of his way. A couple of them got disembowelled instantly. The hunter still milled around oblivious to the shouts of Lallu from inside the house. Suddenly the yaps of Lallu’s pet puppy distracted him. Lallu had forgotten to secure his window and his puppy had now somehow clambered on to it. And just like that the hunter dropped his game with the goats for his perennial favourite: juicy dog meat.

In an instant he had leapt to the open window and the puppy jumped into the room in reflex and fled into the kitchen. The window was small and consequently the hunter got wedged in his haste and struggled to free himself.  Lallu and his family were frozen with terror and did not know what to do. The snarls and growls of the hunter made Lallu wet his dhoti right in front of his wife and two daughters. The room was filled with the ripe odour of human waste. The hunter finally managed to get himself free off the window and jumped into the room. He ignored Lallu and his family and went straight into the kitchen. ‘Jaldi rasoi darwaza bandh karo (quickly, close the kitchen door),’ Mrs. Lallu nudged and whispered to her husband. But Lallu was still frozen and by this time the death squeals of the puppy were coming out of the kitchen. Somehow Mrs. Lallu mustered some courage and shut the kitchen door with a slam, locking the hunter and his meal inside. She then turned to her husband and screamed, ‘Are sarm karo marad hokar (be ashamed of being a man).’ Lallu was still frozen.

It took a good hour for Lallu to finally muster some courage to go to Bhim Singh. ‘Are Sarkar. Hamne us raaksas ko apne hatva se pakdi. Bandh kar rakh diya rasoi mein (Master, I have caught hold of that demon with my own hands and locked him up in my kitchen),’ Lallu pumped up his chest and palpitated with excitement. The forest officer could not believe his ears. He immediately left for the village to verify the truth.‘These bloody fools just make up fancy stories,’ he muttered to himself as he put on his uniform and picked up his loaded rifle. Only when he heard the growls and snarls coming from behind the locked kitchen door, did he convince himself. His normal course of action would have been to somehow sedate the hunter and make him captive till a decision was made by his higher ups. But Bhim Singh had other ideas and was salivating at the very thoughts of the big jackpot that could potentially come out of this. He looked at Lallu and threw a 100-rupee note on the floor out of his wallet. ‘Kisee se kehna mat aur kisee ko andhar mat aane de. Mai abhi aaya (Do not tell anyone about this and do not let anyone inside. I'll return shortly),’ and then pointing to the note on the floor, ‘Mooh bandh kar to aur milega (If you keep your mouth shut, you will get more).’ Lallu eagerly lapped it up with a gleeful ‘Jee Sarkar (yes sir).’ ‘Vaapas aane kepehle jaldi sab saaf kar de saala.. kya badboo aata hai (Clean up the place before I return.  It smells real bad here),’ Bhim Singh boomed as he left. ‘Saala ganda suar (filthy pig),’ he muttered to himself.

Bhim Singh rushed to his lodge and was immediately on the phone to the State CM, Ram Yadav. ‘Sarkar bahut accha mauka hai (Master, this is a golden opportunity for you),’ he rattled out the entire incident in a fast pace. ‘Jaldi aayiye.  Waqt bahut kam hai Sarkar. (Come immediately. We have very less time master),’ he hung up visibly elated.  Yadav immediately arranged for a chopper and was in the forest lodge within an hours time. ‘Vahaan turant ley jaao Bhim (Take me there immediately Bhim),’ Yadav bellowed. The CM now covered his face with a shawl so that no one could identify him. When they reached Lallu’s house, the CM’s henchmen scattered off a few of Lallu’s inquisitive neighbours with diabolical stares and threats. Bhim Singh, holding a gas lamp in his hand, pointed to the gap on the kitchen door near the floor, ‘Udar dekho maai baap, woh darwaaze ke peeche hee leta hai.... sure sot hai sarkaar (Look over there master.  He is lying just behind the door.  It's a sure shot master) .'

The blast from the rifle shattered the silence of the night as the bullet tore through the door into the gut of the hunter. For the next few minutes the hunter went berserk and he trashed around the kitchen snarling and growling in sheer maddening pain.

‘Bade sahib, sot pet mein lag gayaa hai na .. Is liye thoda time lagega sasur ke naati ko marne ke liye (Big master, the shot has hit the stomach and that's why it will take some time for this relative of my father-in-law to die)'. Then rolling his eyes at Lallu, 'Abe suar, gest housva ja aur thoda sharab aur namkeen le ya sarkaar ke liye. Dowd varna bade sahib ko gussa aayega. Chal jaa .. khade khade muh kya dekhta hai (You pig, go to the guest house and get some liquor and salted snacks.  Run or the big boss will get angry.  Go and don't just stand here staring at my face),’ Bhim Singh screamed with artificial rage at a cowering Lallu.

‘Jee Sarkar (Yes master),’ Lallu was immediately gone like an arrow.

EPILOGUE:

The majestic head of a male leopard in its prime made a fine addition to the CM’s hunting trophies in his secret basement room. As for Lallu, he had become a local hero. A small item appeared in the newspaper the following day. ‘Villager Lallu Partap fought and chased away a leopard after  it had entered his house.’ To this day Lallu boasts about his bravery to everyone he meets... except in front of his wife.

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Dedicated to wildlife conservation and strongly codemns widlife corruption and illegal poaching.



The following short story is excerpted from my collection:

BEES: A hive of Short Stories.

Copyright 2011: No part of the story shall in any part or form be reproduced without explicit written consent from the author Sivaram Hariharan