Modoc: The True Story of the Greatest Elephant That Ever Lived

by Ralph Helfer

He found himself wondering about his future. How long would he stay here? Surely there was no place better in the whole world for his kind of lifestyle than the Elephantarium. He knew now, more than ever, he could never give up Mo. What they had endured together bonded them for life. His father was right—they were connected. The months he’d spent at the Elephantarium had taught him a great deal.

  Bram received a message from the maharajah, asking to see him immediately. Although they had been having frequent lunches, it was most unusual for them to meet on a Friday, as this was the maharajah’s time to meet with all his ministers and ambassadors.

  “Bram, I’m afraid I have bad news for you…” The maharajah picked up a yellow piece of paper. “This morning I received a lengthy letter from your Mr. North. He stated that an article in the New York newspaper spoke of an amazing rescue at sea involving a young man and an elephant. He further stated that seeing as the ship carrying his animals was lost in the vicinity of the rescue, he assumed the rescued elephant was his.”

  Bram’s stomach felt as if it were spinning and tying itself into knots. His heart raced.

  The maharajah continued, “He goes on to say that since the animals are of the utmost importance to the circus, and feeling that perhaps more have been found than have been reported, he is arranging for passage on the first ship leaving New York for India.”

  “But…” Bram began.

  “Wait, there’s more. He says, ‘…and regarding the boy, he is a thief, do not be fooled by him. He has stolen property that belongs to me and I will never stop in my endeavor to regain it and see to it that this boy is punished to the full extent of the law.’ He ends by requesting my full support in this matter.”

  The maharajah set the letter on a garden bench. “Bram, we have become good friends, and I want you to know that I will do whatever I can to help you in this situation.”

  Bram was shocked. He sat, scanning the letter, but reading nothing. “I have to go…take Modoc with me,” he said flatly, staring into space.

  “Wait, Bram, listen to me. There are alternatives. I could possibly convince Mr. North to allow you to return with them, and stay with Modoc.”

  “No,” Bram said dejectedly, “he wouldn’t. He doesn’t like our kind of people…Jews, and even if he agreed to it now, I don’t trust him to live up to it once we leave. Besides, others would work Mo, I’d probably go to prison, and that would be more than I could bear.”

  “What if…” the maharajah continued thoughtfully. “Bram, if they do find her, I want to say always there will be another elephant waiting for you here. I promise it will never be taken away. I would offer to buy Modoc or even offer Mr. North a trade but under the circumstances, I do not think he would let her go.”

  “Please, sir,” Bram said, “your kindness and hospitality have been most gracious, but I cannot stay. I have to make arrangements to leave, quickly.”

  Before Bram could stand up, the maharajah rested his hand on Bram’s shoulder. “Please, another moment.” Clearing his throat, he went on, “I am the sovereign leader of a very large principality. Many of my people know what has transpired here. In my position I cannot do anything illegal. I cannot let Modoc go! To do so would be against my principles, and my people would lose faith in me.”

  Bram jumped to his feet. “What? You mean…but it can’t be. You are my friend. You said you would help me!”

  “Bram…you must understand. It is a matter of proprieties and protocol.”

  “All I know is that unless we leave here immediately, North will come and take Modoc!”

  The maharajah was quiet for some time. Finally he spoke. “Very well then, I must say the following—Modoc is as of this moment under my care and authority, and any attempt to take her will be met with resistance. However,” he added, standing up, “if by some means she was to be smuggled out without my knowledge, I would be most upset, and have to look far and wide for her. But India is a very big country, and there are many places to hide such an elephant. I would, of course, have to tell Mr. North of the predicament, and assist him in every way that I can.”

  The maharajah stroked his beard. Then, looking at Bram with a knowing smile, he said, “But then, I don’t think anybody would be so foolish as to do such a thing. Do you?”

  Bram busied himself preparing to leave. He was grateful for the maharajah’s “understanding” and wanted to leave quickly. He needed the time to get away, far away. He put everything he owned in a circle on the floor, separating the articles into piles. Each pile was put into an individual burlap bag and stored in a closet. There was a soft knocking at his door. He quickly pushed away any remaining evidence of his departure.

  “Come in.”

  Sabu entered, carrying with him a number of items necessary for Bram’s trip. Many of these Bram hadn’t thought about. Sabu settled on the floor and began laying them out.

  Bram dropped down beside him and spoke softly. “I didn’t know that you knew I was…”

  “You have many friends here, sahib. Here, I have brought you maps of the areas you might be crossing.”

  “I think I’ll head—”

  “Please! Do not tell me. It is best that I do not know. Then no one can see a lie on my face if there is none there. You must be careful, sahib. India is a poor country, and there are people who would do bad things in an effort to better their own lives.”

  “I was only going to say that I plan on sticking to the forest during the night, and the cities by the day, as I am told there are more thieves in the city at night.”

  “It is true, but sometimes things can reverse themselves. Such is the way of God. However, the forest is a good source of food for Modoc. It will also serve as a great hiding place if the need arises. When do you plan on leaving?”

  “Tomorrow night. It will be the first night of a full moon, and we will be able to make it to the outskirts of the city by early morning.”

  Bram stood up and walked around his room slowly. “In all the places I have ever seen or read about, this is by far the most beautiful, not just in the material things, but in the hearts of all I have met. I will miss you as a brother, Sabu, and maybe someday we’ll see each other again.”

  A howdah had suddenly appeared at Bram’s door.

  “It is obviously a gift from God,” Sabu stated simply. “You must take it graciously and use it well.”

  The time of his leaving had come quickly. He wanted to tell everybody goodbye and thank them for their friendship, but that was impossible. Sabu would have to explain to a trusted few after he left.

  A messenger from Atoul’s temple brought a note—Bram recognized the handwriting immediately. The note said:

  On your journey there will be many waters to cross. Agra—tonight, 10:00, with Modoc.

  Jagrat

  Bram was excited to have received the note from Jagrat, and though he had no idea what it meant, he knew it must be important. This was the night of his leaving, and he figured he would leave a bit early so as to visit the lake on his departure. He couldn’t say goodbye to the maharajah, but made up an excuse to see him once more.

  The maharajah sat in his royal chair, two feet high upon a dais. A fancy, colorful carpet lay at his feet. A pair of beautiful white and peach-colored cockatoos raised their crests as Bram entered. Two court attendants stood at the far end of the large room. Bram stood at the door waiting expectantly.

  “Come, come, my friend,” the maharajah beckoned. “I understand you wish to see me. Here, sit by me.”

  “I was so distraught with the news of Mr. North that I forgot to tell you how awe-inspiring the meeting with Atoul was. It will be in my mind and soul forever. What he and Jagrat share only deepens the knowledge my father taught me. Since meeting them, something has happened. Modoc and I don’t need to speak to each other as much. We just…know! And I feel…older, more in tune with life. What I have to do now I will do with a new energy.”

  An understanding smile crossed the maharajah’s face. He not
iced a concern on Bram’s face. “There is something else you wish to discuss?”

  “Yes, one that needs your wisdom.”

  The maharajah looked questioningly at him. “Hmmm, yes, of course, if I can be of help.”

  “My question is, how faithful must one be to one who has died? Does a promise carry on after one has departed to his afterlife?”

  The maharajah stepped down from his heights and approached Bram, knowing he was speaking of his commitment to his father.

  “The commitment is to yourself, young man. It is you and you alone who will feel if your decision is right or wrong. Some things are promised in haste, others to appease and satisfy a sick one, some for love…or hate. As for your atonement in the afterlife, any decision made in this life will follow you forever.” He put his arm around Bram’s shoulder. “I do not feel you have any need for concern. You are a person who carries a good heart, and I feel your soul will be richly rewarded in the afterlife.”

  Bram was deeply moved. “I thank you deeply for your wisdom and kindness. It will never be forgotten.” Bram stood motionless, hoping that he’d spoken in a way that wouldn’t embarrass the maharajah.

  The maharajah beckoned to his valet. The man approached carrying a red velvet pillow. Placed on top was a golden chain, and hanging from it was a medallion similar to the one Jagrat wore. Etched on the back below the royal family crest was Bram’s name. As the maharajah slipped it over Bram’s head he said, “This is known throughout India and will be respected by all who encounter it.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “You are as a son to me.”

  Bram could not move; the glint of moisture filling his eyes was seen by the maharajah, who knew this man-child had suffered much since leaving his home and loved ones. Now, again, he must continue, all for the love of an elephant. The maharajah opened his arms. They moved together and embraced, as father and son. Both felt it was the last time they would see each other.

  Bram left the palace, never to forget the most wonderful place he had ever seen.

  22

  THE LIGHT OF THE FULL MOON moved through the trees as they approached the lake. The forest was silent and smelled of ginger as Mo walked the earthen trail. In the back of Bram’s mind he was trying to decipher Jagrat’s note when he spotted him standing under the mimosa tree, waving a silent greeting.

  “Salaams, Bram.”

  “Salaams, Jagrat.”

  “Before you leave there is something that needs to be done for Modoc. But first we must remove the howdah from her back.”

  Within minutes the deed was accomplished. Bram said nothing, knowing that whatever was being done would be of great significance.

  “Take Modoc to the lake.”

  “But she’s afraid of—”

  “Just have her stand at the edge,” Jagrat said patiently.

  Bram walked her to the shoreline. Patting her leg, he asked her to stay and walked back to Jagrat.

  “Come with me,” he said, and Bram followed him up the slope where they had first met.

  They sat quietly, joining the forest and lake in solitude. Nothing stirred on the Agra’s mirrored surface. Modoc stood calmly, dabbling the tip of her trunk in the mud. Bram kept mulling over in his mind the words of Jagrat, “On your journey there will be many waters to cross.” What did it mean?

  Something moved in the middle of the lake. A circle of ripples formed as though surrounding a large object. Modoc stopped playing and stood still. The ripples formed a large “V” and slowly headed in her direction. Her ears shot forward, trunk raised as she stared across the lake. There was something there, but nothing to see. Bram looked at Jagrat. He, too, was staring at the water.

  The arrow of ripples continued toward Modoc. As it approached the shore, it stopped. Mo made a rumbling sound in her body and carefully stretched out her trunk. She was seeing something others were not allowed to see. Something was holding the tip of her trunk, and leading her out into the water! Mo didn’t resist. Slowly, she carefully eased her way out, stopping occasionally to rumble a bit, then moving on deeper and deeper. By the time she reached the center of the lake, she was floating with another…elephant!

  “Atoul?” guessed Bram.

  Jagrat looked at him; his dark eyes seemed to see far beyond Bram. He smiled. “Yes.”

  Now Bram understood. Jagrat knew of Modoc’s problem with the water, and in his mystical way had enlisted Atoul to help her.

  “She will be all right now,” said Jagrat, walking off into the forest. “I wish you both a safe and enlightening journey,” he said into the darkness.

  “We will always remember you, Jagrat,” called Bram. “Thank you.”

  It was daybreak, as expected, when Bram entered the forest that lay south of the city. He had traveled all night, sticking to the back roads as much as possible. Most of the dirt and brick streets were deserted because of the early hour, and just the occasional cripple or homeless person could be seen sleeping in the doorways. The only tarmac roadway ran through the center of town, and Bram felt it would be best to stay clear of areas where people might later recall having seen him. Nobody paid much attention to an elephant walking on the old streets at night, or, for that matter, to any of the cattle, goats, donkeys, or Brahmas eating grass along the embankments.

  Once in the forest, Bram found a well-traveled trail and directed Modoc onto it. It was headed away from the city and toward the sea, exactly where he wanted to go. The clear skies and early morning humidity told of a very hot day in the offing. He checked the rigging, seeing that the eight-inch-wide woven hemp cinch was not too binding on Mo. The howdah sat comfortably on a foot-thick mat filled with camel hair and lined with sisal cord. It was made of strong giant bamboo laced with bindings of reed, sisal, and jungle root. No bolts or screws of any kind were used as the howdah had to move with the animal, not be too rigid, lest it caused pinching and cutting. There were six holes in the top of the frame into which poles were inserted to support a small canopy. This would ward off the sun or rain. Bram had tied the assorted bundles to the outer edge of the howdah to form a circle, putting everything within close reach for his needs. The flooring of the howdah was similar to the one he had used back home. Made of thick woven rattan, and with the help of an overlying blanket, it made a comfortable area in which to function.

  Lying on his back, Bram watched as the sun filtered through the trees, a sparkle here, a glitter there. He heard the music Jagrat had spoken of, gentle, whispering, tinkling cymbals of the living forest. Modoc lumbered on; she knew her responsibility and never strayed off the trail or stopped to bother a bush or flower, which allowed Bram to take naps. She, too, enjoyed the music.

  Bram awoke with a start. Modoc had stopped! Above him was a trunk giving little warning signals of squeaks and chirps. He jumped up to have a look. Crossing the trail was a huge python. Bram guessed its length to be twenty feet or more. The head had already passed into the grass on one side of the road, while the tail was still to come out of the weeds on the other! Mo stood quietly, ears alert, trunk balled up, waiting patiently.

  “It’s okay, girl. Nothing to worry about. Just let him go his way, and we’ll go ours.”

  Once the snake had disappeared, Mo kept a wary eye as she passed the place it was last seen. The trail ended after about an hour or so, coming out on another narrow dirt road.

  Bram saw another elephant coming down the road. The mahouts waved at each other, then continued on their way.

  The days turned into weeks as they headed in a southeasterly direction. It was Bram’s plan to follow the coastline until he passed the headwaters of the Ganges River, then continue south into Burma and onward to the teak forests. This was the one place he felt he could support himself and still hide from Mr. North.

  They were heading up a narrow winding street in the city of Cushda. As the morning lights appeared, hordes of people began their day’s work, buzzing from one place to another, selling their wares, trading, buying, bargaining. In a matter of moments, t
housands overflowed the sidewalks, filling the streets, jamming the crossroads, pushing and shoving. The din was one of tempered chaos. Each acted as though only he were on the street. The odd vehicle, with all its power, stood idle, motor racing, horn tooting, but all in vain. It, too, had to flow with the tide of humanity.

  Mo’s smooth, flat, round feet cushioned Bram’s ride as they ambled from the town up the dirt road, and on into the quiet of the nearby forest. Bram knew they had a long way to go.

  23

  AS THE WEEKS WENT BY Bram and Mo lived wherever the trail took them, finding odd jobs along the way. A man offered them work to look after his goats. Mo pulled cars stuck in the mud. Another time she stood for four hours while three men stood on her back erecting a sign high up on the top of a roof. For three weeks she carried water from a well located high on a ridge down to the village below. She was asked to work as a plow horse, and another time helped to push a car to get it started.

  Cool breezes signaled their approach to the higher ridge areas, where great stretches of bamboo forest appeared. The bamboo, sometimes as high as fifteen and twenty feet, dwarfed even Mo. This was a great delicacy for her, as she loved the tender roots that lay so close to the surface of the ground.

  The twosome was invisible to the outside world as they made their way through the forest thickness of lush groves. Even from above, all that could be seen was the parting and waving of the tops of the bamboo as though a giant snake were weaving itself through the jungle below.

  Locals cautioned Bram about Bengal tigers that frequented the bamboo, waiting for a victim to come their way.

  “Stay up on your elephant, don’t come down for anything. Tigers respect elephants and generally do not bother them, but you…well, they would not hesitate to attack one who would make such a good meal, that is for sure!”

  For the days they were in the forest, Bram rarely slept, afraid he and Mo would fall victim at any minute. Night was the scariest time. Twice they heard the snarl of a tiger. Though Bram built a fire that would have rivaled any, he still remained atop the howdah at night as Modoc slept standing up.