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

by Ralph Helfer

  He wore his best wrap—the same kind the mahouts wore, only it was of a different color so as not to offend those who had already proven themselves. Bram took the choon from around his neck.

  “This is a guide—a liaison between you and your charge, to express your desires to the elephant.” His father’s words echoed back to him. Then with a leg mount, and his command of “Move up, Mo!” they headed for the compound.

  No one was allowed to see the test except the mahouts, Ja, Singh, and of course Kalli Gooma. Mahouts were also invited from other faraway villages. When Bram rode into the compound area a cry of encouragement rose from the crowd, and what a crowd there was. It seemed as if every village for miles around had taken up the invitation and sent its mahouts.

  The weather had turned humid. Bram was pleased that the band on his head blocked the nervous sweat from his eyes. Weeks ago he had been instructed about what would be expected of him. The compound looked bigger than the one hundred by two hundred feet he had measured earlier. One side offered the pull section, the other the push. On the pull side, thick coiled ropes were set out. Six heavy teak logs, a heavy-duty work harness, accessories, clips, oils, brushes, picks, and other equipment were all laid out in their corresponding sections.

  On the other side was the push area. There were a series of head mats; three wagons of different sizes, each loaded with teak; a steep ramp, perhaps one hundred feet long; and many wheel chocks to prevent the wagon from rolling backward.

  In the middle was a small area consisting of a heavy tree stump, rasps, clippers, and other nail-trimming accessories. Close by was the medical supply area, where Bram would show his medical skills. A final area housed a riding howdah.

  There were no clocks.

  No music.

  On an elevated reed platform two men sat cross-legged behind a large kettle drum. They each held two large sticks with the tips wrapped in animal skin. Bram had been told that when he began the test, one of the drummers would start to beat the drum. They had the ability to increase the rate of the beat so gradually that it would be hard to notice. At a certain time, it would stop. It was best that the test be completed before the drum stopped. When one of the drummers tired, the other would pick up the beat. Bram recalled a game played with chairs when he was a child that seemed quite similar.

  Bram stood beside Modoc. She was quiet and seemed to anticipate what would be needed of her. A head nod from Kalli Gooma and the drum started. In a single move Bram was on Modoc’s back, choon in hand, and the test began.

  Head down, harness fastened, kick tracer chains into position. Approach log. Gauge tracer distance to the log. Kick tracers into line. Back up. When tracers secure, firm the rope. Test weight. Start the pull slowly. As log moves, put strength into chest and front leg muscles. If logs heavy, dig toes into ground. Chest may touch the ground on some pulls.

  The hours passed slowly. The drumbeat increased. The teak was incredibly heavy. It was many hours into the day. Bram and Mo had finished the pull and were just about to finish the push. She was on an incline pushing six heavy teaks loaded in a wagon up the ramp. Bram dropped wedge-shaped wood chocks to her and she carefully slid them against the wheels while she pushed against the heavy load to keep it from sliding back. She had to chock the wheels three times before reaching the top. The weight was enormous. Over eight thousand pounds. At the second chock position, a back wheel broke! The whole load slipped and was about to come tumbling down on Modoc! This teak was big enough to easily knock her over—maybe break a leg. The mahouts in the crowd stood as one. Even Kalli Gooma showed concern.

  Modoc, using her great strength, leaned into the load, and with her trunk and tusks, picked up the side with the broken wheel, making the load level. Bram threw a chock down to her. She felt it with her toe, but the angle of the wagon prevented her from seeing it. Bram, lying flat on her back, spoke to her, telling her where the chock was and where to move it. Her ears perked forward, listening to every word he said. Finally she managed to slide it under the other back wheel so she could release her hold on the wagon. A sigh of astonishment and relief was heard through the compound. But Bram wasn’t done yet. He moved her up close to the wagon and told her to set her feet in a firm position. He sprang from her back to the wagon, seating himself on top of the teak. Leaning over the edge of the wagon, carefully watching that the load didn’t shift, he commanded her again to pick up the load on the bad side. With a great show of strength, Modoc hooked her tusks under the bed of the wagon. She grabbed the railing and, lowering her head, pushed the wagon and its contents up the incline to the flat area above while balancing the load with her trunk. A roar of approval greeted Bram and Mo. When the cheering stopped, so had the drums. But Bram and Mo were done. They had completed the test in the time specified. Bram hoped that their work was satisfactory.

  Bram took Mo down to the river. She slowly walked out into the stream where it was deep, unusual for her, and there slowly lay in the cool fast water. The sweat from her body, the deep marks left by the pull harness, obstinate at first, finally gave way to the soothing nature balm. Bram sat on the shore watching. He was so very proud.

  27

  A NOTICE IN THE VILLAGE said that Kalli Gooma would give his judgment the following day.

  Bram and Sian sat silently at dinner. Her family tried to cheer up Bram by telling him how everybody had spoken of his handling of the broken wagon emergency. But he sat quiet, holding Sian’s hand. After dinner they walked on the veranda; Mo browsed nearby. Bram wanted to tell Sian about Gertie but felt it was better to wait. They kissed good night and he went to bed with heavy thoughts.

  The word spread quickly throughout the village. Modoc had passed the test, but Bram was to work as an assistant for one month with Kalli Gooma, at which time he would be given his final approval.

  The village was amazed at the decision—what is an elephant without his mahout? All that an elephant does is through the mahout. But they respected Kalli Gooma and knew he had his reasons.

  Bram saw deeper. He knew that Kalli Gooma saw beneath the thoughts of others. Bram knew that Mo was different, that she could reason alone, that she had crossed over the line. Her visit with the white elephant had opened wide a door that before had let in only a small amount of light. Kalli Gooma had passed Modoc because she was centered in a world where she could hear both nature’s voice and man’s.

  Bram was anxious to share his excitement over the test results with Sian. They met at the bend of the river, at their place under an ancient fig tree. The sun had set. The moon, full, had lifted itself onto the edge of the mountain rim.

  Their moments alone were cherished. The touch of each other’s bodies. He, exploring the curves, the way her softness melted away at his touch, tracing his fingers around her eyes, touching the blink, watching the tears of joy wash down her face. She, feeling his chest, the corners of his mouth, never venturing beneath his waist. Her shyness made her catch her breath when her fingers got too close. Once, during play, she rolled over him, feeling his hardness. It shocked her. She started to roll away but Bram held her tight, closely, breathing hard. She was to understand later of his needs and the way to satisfy them.

  The next morning Bram met Kalli Gooma at the river. He watched as Kalli Gooma wove some heavy rope used to support the teak. Nearby the rush of the water and the bumping of the logs could be heard as they descended the winding slosh at high speed, splashing their way to the river below. Bram set to work, assisting Kalli Gooma. Neither spoke for some time.

  “You have been allowed to see the white elephant.”

  Bram was amazed at the insight of this man.

  He continued, “There are few who have. When I was very young, I, too, worked at the Elephantarium. I learned all there was to be offered. I achieved many steps and moved into a realm of a higher place.” Bram listened intently, feeling honored to be with this mentor. “You have come from a different land,” spoke Kalli Gooma. “Yet my father, like yours, taught me from bi
rth how to love, enjoy, and train the big ones. I have spent all these years using that knowledge, in preparation for learning new things. A good teacher teaches what he has been taught. A wise one teaches what he has learned.”

  For hours they spoke of many things, the village, teak, the future of the country, even Bram’s love for Sian. Then Kalli Gooma stood.

  “There are two areas Sian hasn’t taken you to. One represents Life, the other Death. The keepers of these areas have opposite traits.”

  Kalli Gooma led the way up into a new part of the forest. The trail was very wide, and one could see that it had been well maintained. Bram heard the laughter of children coming from up ahead. As they topped a small rise in the jungle floor, the vegetation cleared, and there under a massive canopy stood one of the largest bull elephants Bram had ever seen.

  “His name is Bandolla,” offered Kalli Gooma.

  Bram looked at the elephant. He seemed in good health. Why was he up here in the forest hidden from everything? Bram wondered.

  “Bandolla is our breeding bull. He is the biggest and best bull in all the jungle—also the meanest. Many people are taken in by his gentle approach, only to be dashed and broken under his feet. He is used for all our cow elephants. He’s very dangerous and will kill without hesitation. His meanness was not inherited. Probably came from something that occurred in his youth because his offspring have been large, beautiful animals with gentle hearts.”

  Bandolla was shackled in a way different from those below. Instead of two feet, all four feet had ropes on them, and the ropes were much thicker. They were tied fairly firmly to heavy stakes in the ground, not giving him too much room to move. The loops on the hind feet were tied more snugly around his legs because the back legs were like stove pipes, the circumference being much the same at the top as at the bottom. If the rope could slip down the leg, it could come off.

  The front feet were quite a bit different, heavier, stouter, the knees more pronounced. The foot spaded out into a large flat pie shape. The rope might slide down the leg but could never come off the foot itself. Kalli Gooma explained to Bram that the four ropes were used only when people had to work close to him, which they were about to do, and were loosened after the breeding. “He can seem almost gentle, sweet, rocking smoothly, swaying to and fro,” Kalli Gooma went on to explain. “But it is these moments that have lain to rest some of the boys in the cemetery.”

  Bandolla stood in a bed of tall grass that he occasionally picked up and brushed his body with. Eight heavy teak poles supported a roof of palm fronds. The twenty-foot-high palms were lashed tightly together. The canopy was at least twenty-five feet long and possibly twenty feet wide. When Bram saw him stretch his trunk and body for a mango that had fallen from a nearby tree, he realized why the compound was so large. Bandolla’s reach was enormous. If he ever succeeded in grabbing one of the main poles with his trunk, he could pull the whole structure down. An escape could prove a disaster.

  His tusks were weapons of beauty, measuring eight feet in length. They had never been used for hauling the teak, therefore there was not a blemish, break, or scar—the ivory hue glistened. They were perfectly matched.

  He was generally turned out into a large stockade made of heavy teak logs behind the canopy. There he could wander at his leisure. However, during breeding he was brought in and shackled under the canopy.

  The children Bram had heard lived in small bamboo huts set in a semicircle twenty yards from the bull. They were of mixed age, perhaps from eight years up to twelve. Handsome boys they were, with brown skin, piercing dark eyes, alabaster teeth. All were nude save for an occasional simple bracelet or necklace. They were friendly enough when spoken to, yet never ventured an opinion or asked a question. All were illiterate. They frolicked as youngsters do, inventing games, playing ball, wrestling. They were never allowed to play with the other children of the village.

  “These children are blessed to be given the right to work with Bandolla,” said Kalli Gooma. “It’s a practice that’s been handed down for centuries. When a breeding bull is mean and intolerable and yet of such exceptional quality that his genes are wanted, he is kept as Bandolla is…guarded and handled by children.

  “For years many men were killed trying to work around their breeding bulls. The bulls are clever. They know if you take your eye off them for a psychic moment, get a hair too close, sneeze, cough, whatever will give them a fraction of a moment’s advantage. They’ve got you. Once the trunk has just a single curl around any part of your anatomy, well, they’ll either beat you against the ground or step on your head and pull!” He pointed to the children. “I have seen their little bodies like dolls, limbs torn, and thrown as twigs in the wind.

  “Children are small, light, and, above all, very quick and agile. Their nudity, their bodies being covered with slippery oils, makes Bandolla’s job of catching them most difficult.

  “Beyond the stockade is a small cemetery,” Kalli Gooma continued, his voice becoming deeper, sterner. “There is a row of little graves, some having been there for many years. Each Sunday these boys go there, say their prayers, leave a token of remembrance to the dead, and, in turn, they leave with a reminder of what can happen in a moment of carelessness.”

  Bram noticed that his voice had become firm. “Always remember, never forget. Never.” Kalli Gooma’s mood changed. “These boys are handpicked off the streets of Calcutta by Tabul, the headman himself. He is in charge of Bandolla. The children are small and lean. He has an eye for the quick, keen-of-eye ones. Some street boys know him. They practice things to show him, hoping they will be picked.”

  “But why? Why would they want to risk their lives?”

  “It’s safer. They have no parents or relatives, the older ones would kill the young over a scrap of bread. The streets of Calcutta are famous for all the horrors the human mind is capable of causing. They steal, rape, sell their bodies—even kill.”

  Kalli Gooma greeted the boys with hand slaps, shoulder pats, handshakes. They were proud that he acknowledged them. “Here the boys have a chance at having a good life,” he continued. “Plenty of good food, a place to sleep, healthy surroundings, friends who take care of them. And if they survive, and most do, they can become assistants to the mahouts, work in a dozen other capacities. It’s the story of life. If you can be a survivor, you can succeed in anything.”

  That morning a breeding was to take place. Tabul had gone down to the river to bring up the cow. In the middle of the hut area were two large wood open-air vats that measured ten feet across. In one was a clear, thick, honey oillike substance that filled the air with an odor of spiced eucalyptus. Bram was told Bandolla hated the smell and taste.

  In the other was a detergent of soapy water that had the scent of ginger. One of the boys was stirring the first vat with a three-foot-long ladle. Occasionally he would spread the substance over his body. The rest of the boys were playing, spreading the glaze, wiping and smearing the ooze on one another’s bodies. Backs, buttocks, legs, everywhere, until they all looked like honey sticks at the local shop. A few of the older boys had finished and gone ahead to prepare the area. The ground had been brushed smooth, the ropes laid out; long-handled choons and even a large bag full of emergency medical supplies sat nearby. Everything seemed to be in order.

  “If there comes a problem, you must not intervene,” said Kalli Gooma.

  Bram nodded his head in agreement. Coming up the trail was Tabul with a large cow elephant. Her name was Seria. Two mahouts accompanied him, one on either side of the elephant. They all carried long-handled choons that made it easier to reach any part of the elephant’s body.

  Seria seemed anxious. Tabul held the choon near her front legs. If she moved too fast she would run into it. The hook, although not sharpened, acted as a reminder to do what Tabul wanted.

  As they approached the area, Bram noticed a large, heavy apron covering her entire back end.

  “Sometimes Bandolla gets too rough with his tusks and j
abs hard. The apron prevents any serious injury.”

  A couple of the boys threw buckets of water against Seria’s buttocks to clean her up, then brushed her down with brushes bound together on sticks.

  All was ready.

  From the moment Bandolla saw her he went wild. His trumpets could be heard for miles. Each rope was pulled to the maximum. He tested them all, pulling each with his trunk, straining his utmost to break them. The earth itself shook. He threw his fodder in all directions, lashing out with his trunk at everything that moved. He was a locomotive off the track, gone berserk.

  The boys, all oiled up, careful to wear the special rough leaf shoes that prevented them from slipping, swarmed into the area.

  Three on each side, three on the back; Bandolla was like a boxer trying to cover all positions. His body rocked, trunk balled up ready to lash out in a fraction of a second. The boys wasted no time. Their slippery bodies moved in and out with precision. Each knew his job. Ropes were slipped off, others put on. Giant feet kicked furiously at the slimy little boys who swarmed over him. They threw hay to distract him.

  His trunk lashed out clear to his back. The balled-up trunk would twitch with anticipation, aiming at one of the “bugs.” Then, as a frog’s tongue lashes out for an insect, the trunk sprang forth, aimed at one of the gnats. It missed, but by only a fraction of an inch.

  Bandolla’s erect penis was bursting for attention. It moved and swung as though it had a mind of its own. Some six feet in length, perhaps weighing twenty-five pounds, and prehensile, it moved, snakelike, as though searching for the entrance to its lair. Tabul ordered the mahouts to turn Seria’s buttocks toward Bandolla. At the same time the boys were preparing to loosen the two ropes holding the front feet.

  “This is the most dangerous time,” confided Kalli Gooma.

  From an outsider’s point of view, everything looked chaotic, disorganized. But in truth, it was a precision team working together for a single cause.