by Ruskin Bond
‘There was a leopard prowling about our village last night,’ said Beenu.
Raki was interested but not excited. Leopards were often seen in the hills, and occasionally one of them would take to prowling about the outskirts of a village, seizing a careless dog or a stray goat.
‘Did you lose any animals?’ asked Raki.
‘No. It tried to get into the cowshed but the dogs set up an alarm. We drove it off.’
‘It must be the same leopard that came around last winter. We lost a calf and two dogs in our village.’
‘Wasn’t that the one the hunters wounded?’
‘It could be the same. It has a bullet in its leg. It can’t move fast enough to catch the deer and wild animals.’
‘We are lucky it hasn’t become a man-eater. Do you remember the man-eater six years ago?’
‘I was very small then,’ said Raki. ‘My father told me about it. Ten people were killed in the valley. What happened to it?’
‘I don’t know. Some say it poisoned itself when it ate the moneylender in our village.’
They linked arms and scrambled up the stony path. Raja began barking and ran ahead. Someone was coming down the path.
It was the postman.
‘Any letters for us?’ asked Raki and Beenu together.
They never received any letters but that did not discourage them from asking.
‘You can have them all,’ said the postman, ‘if you will carry my bag for me.’
‘We would gladly carry your bag,’ said Raki, ‘but we’re going in the opposite direction!’
The postman, complaining of sore feet, continued on his way, and the boys continued their climb. It was eight o’clock when they reached Chamoli. Dr Taylor’s out-patients were just beginning to line up at the hospital gate. Dr Taylor was fifty, white-haired but fresh in the face and full of energy. She had been in India for over twenty years, working in the remote hill regions where few doctors care to go.
She saw Raki coming down the road. She knew about him and his long walk to school.
Raki greeted her shyly. Raja barked and put his paws up on the gate.
‘Yes, there’s a bone for you,’ said the doctor. ‘You can collect it later.’
The school bell was ringing and Raki broke into a run. Raja loped along behind him.
When Raki entered the school gate, Raja sat down on the grass of the compound. He would remain there until the lunch break. He knew of various ways of amusing himself during school hours and had friends among the bazaar dogs.
2
Mr Joshi, Raki’s teacher, was in a bad mood. He prided himself on his rose garden, and that morning, looking out of his bedroom window, he had been horrified to see a herd of goats in his garden. He had chased them down the road with a stick but the damage had already been done. His prize roses had all been eaten.
Mr Joshi was so upset that he had gone without his breakfast. He had also cut himself while shaving. His mood had gone from bad to worse. Several times during the day he used his ruler on the knuckles of the more mischievous boys. Raki was one of his best pupils. But even Raki got a whack from the ruler, simply for asking too many questions. That was the kind of day it was for their teacher…
‘Poor Mr Joshi,’ thought Raki. ‘I wonder why he is so upset. Perhaps he hasn’t received his pay.’
Armed with a bundle of homework, Raki came out from the school compound at four o’clock, and was immediately joined by Raja, who had already collected his bone from Dr Taylor. They did not stay long in the bazaar. There were five miles to walk, and Raki’s mother did not like him coming home after dark.
Beenu had gone home long ago, and Raki had to make the return journey on his own. He had reached the little spring when he remembered the bangles he had promised to buy for his sister.
‘Oh, I’ve forgotten them again,’ he said aloud. ‘Now I’ll catch it! And she has probably made something special for my dinner!’
Raja, to whom these words were addressed, paid no attention but bounded off into the oak forest. Raki looked around for the monkeys but they were nowhere to be seen.
‘That’s strange,’ he thought. ‘I wonder why they have disappeared.’
Suddenly he heard a sharp cry, followed by a long yelp. He knew at once that Raja was in trouble. The sound came from the bushes down the steep hillside, where Raja had rushed a few seconds before.
In the fading light, Raki jumped off the path and ran down the slope towards the bushes. There was no dog. He whistled and called but there was no response. Then he saw something lying on the dry grass. He picked it up. It was part of Raja’s collar.
Raki did not search further. He knew, without a doubt, that Raja had been seized by a leopard. No other animal could have attacked so silently and swiftly, carrying off a big dog with hardly a struggle. Raja must have been dead within seconds of being caught.
Raki knew the danger that lay in wait for him if he tried to follow the leopard. It would attack anyone who tried to interfere with its meal.
With tears starting in his eyes, he began running down the path to his village. His fingers still clutched the little bit of collar that was all that was left to him of his dog.
It is a hard life for people living in the Himalayan valleys, and the children are not very sentimental; but Raki sorrowed for his dog. He did not sleep that night but turned restlessly from side to side. After some time he felt Puja‘s hand in his own. The touch of her rough, familiar hand comforted him.
Next morning when he went down to the stream to bathe, he missed the presence of his dog. He did not stay long in the water. It wasn’t so much fun when there was no Raja to watch him.
When Rakis mother gave him his food, she told him to be careful and to hurry home that evening. A leopard, even if it is only a lifter of sheep or dogs, is not to be taken lightly; and this particular leopard had been unusually daring in seizing the dog while it was still daylight.
There was no question of staying away from school. If Raki remained at home every time a leopard put in an appearance, he might just as well stop going to school altogether.
He set off earlier than usual and reached the spring long before Beenu. He did not wait for his friend, because he did not feel like talking about the loss of his dog. It was not the day for the postman, so Raki reached Chamoli without meeting anyone on the way. He tried to slip past the hospital gate unnoticed but Dr Taylor saw him, and the first thing she said was, ‘Where’s Raja? I’ve got something for him.’
When Dr Taylor saw the boy’s face, she knew at once that something was wrong.
‘What is it, Raki?’ she asked. She looked quickly up and down the road. ‘What happened to Raja?’
‘A leopard took him,’ said Raki.
‘Where?’
‘In the forest, while I was walking home.’
Raki turned away and began running down the road to school.
His schoolmates questioned him about Raja’s absence. He had to tell them everything. There was a lot of noise and excitement in the classroom and Mr Joshi had to call for order. When he learned what had happened, he patted Raki on the head and told him that he need not attend school for the rest of the day. But Raki did not want to go home. After school, he got into a fight with one of the boys and that helped him to forget.
3
Nine-year-old Sanjay, a friend of Raki’s, was the first person in Koli to be attacked by the leopard.
Sanjay’s house was the last in the village and nearest the stream. Like the other houses, it was quite small, just a room above and a stable below, with steps leading up from outside the house.
One evening, not long after Raja had been taken by the leopard, Sanjay brought his father’s cows home after grazing them on the hill slopes. He and his small brothers had their food at dusk, sitting on the floor of their single room, and soon afterwards settled down for the night. Sanjay curled up in his favourite spot, with his head near the door to get the fresh air. As the summer nights wer
e quite warm, the door was usually left slightly open. Sanjay’s mother piled ash on the embers of the fire, and the family was soon asleep.
No one heard the stealthy padding of the leopard approaching the door, pushing it open. Suddenly there were sounds of struggle. Sanjay’s cries mingled with the snarls of the animal.
Sanjay’s father leapt to his feet with a shout. The leopard had dragged the boy outside. The father rushed out on to the steps, picked up a heavy grinding-stone and struck at the animal. Everyone in the house was shouting. A number of people from the neighbouring houses came rushing to their assistance. As soon as the leopard saw them, it let the boy go and bounded away.
Sanjay lay unconscious on the steps.
But he was alive.
His father smeared ash on the boy’s head to stop the bleeding, while his mother tore strips off her homespun dress to make a bandage. Long before it was dawn, Sanjay’s father, with the boy on his back, had set off for the Chamoli hospital. Three or four men accompanied them, armed with sticks and axes.
They roused Dr Taylor, and the boy’s father stammered out an account of what had happened. The doctor cleaned and dressed the wound and gave Sanjay a shot of penicillin to prevent infection.
‘You brought him in good time,’ she said. ‘He’ll be all right. The wounds will heal. We’ll keep him here in the hospital until he recovers.’
After this attack, the leopard went away for some time. But the people of Koli could not be sure of its whereabouts. They kept to their houses after dark, and shut all their doors. Raki had to stop going to school, as there was no one to accompany him and it was dangerous to go alone. This worried him, because his exams were only a few weeks off and he would be missing important classwork. When he wasn’t in the fields, helping with the sowing of rice and maize, he sat in the shade of a cherry tree, going through his well-thumbed schoolbooks.
Sanjay was recovering quickly and was able to come home after a week. With his little face covered by a huge bandage, he looked rather helpless; but he was getting better and the wound was healing.
Two weeks passed, and no one had seen the leopard. People were beginning to hope that it might have moved on, over the mountain or further down the valley.
‘I think I can start going to school again,’ said Raki. ‘The leopard has gone away.’
‘Don’t be so sure,’ said Puja. ‘There’s a full moon these days. It might be waiting for the dark nights.’
‘Yes, wait a few days,’ said his mother. ‘It is better to wait. Perhaps you could go the day after tomorrow, when Sanjay goes to the hospital with his father for a check-up. Then you will have company.’
So, two days later, Raki went up to Chamoli with Sanjay and his father. Sanjay’s wound had almost healed. Dr Taylor said he could come again after a week.
Raki went to his school and was given a warm welcome by his friends and by Mr Joshi.
‘You must work hard and catch up with the class,’ said Mr Joshi. ‘If you like, I can give you some extra time after class.’
‘Thank you, sir, but it will make me late,’ said Raki. ‘My mother will worry if I do not get home before dark.’
‘Well, you had better not take any risks. Work hard, and you’ll soon catch up with your lessons.’
Sanjay and his father were waiting for him outside the school. Together they took the path down to Koli, passing the postman on his way. The postman said that he had heard that the leopard had crossed into another valley and that there was nothing to fear.
Nothing happened on the way home. The monkeys were back in their favourite part of the forest. Raki got back just as the kerosene lamp was being lit by his mother. Puja met him at the door with a winning smile.
‘Did you get the bangles?’ she asked.
But Raki had forgotten again.
4
There had been a thunderstorm, and the sharp summer shower gave the villagers hope that the monsoon would arrive on time.
Raki, on his way home from school, was caught in the rain. He knew the shower would not last very long, so he took shelter in a small cave.
When the rain stopped, he left the cave and continued on his way. He wasn’t in a hurry. The rain had made everything smell fresh and good. A flock of parrots swept across the hill, and the monkeys leapt from tree to tree.
He was almost out of the forest when he heard a faint bleating. A little goat was stumbling up the path towards him. The kid must have strayed from a herd. It came to Raki with a little hop, skip and a jump, and rubbed against his legs.
‘I wonder who you belong to,’ mused Raki, stroking the kid. ‘I’d better keep you with me, or you’ll get lost.’
Darkness was coming on and Raki walked a little faster, the kid following close behind him.
He had not gone far when he heard a strange sound. It was like a saw cutting through wood—the long harsh breathing of a leopard on the prowl.
The sound came from Raki’s right, from a distance of fifty to sixty yards. Raki hesitated on the path, wondering what he should do. Then he picked the kid up in his arms, and began running.
He heard the leopard again, much closer now. He looked up and down the hillside. The forest was some way behind and only a few trees covered the steep slopes. Raki made for a spruce.
The branches of the Himalayan spruce are very brittle and snap easily beneath a heavy weight. They were strong enough to support Raki’s light body. He hoped they would not support the weight of a leopard.
Holding the kid with one arm, Raki gripped a low branch and swung himself up into the tree. He was a good climber. He climbed halfway up the tree, till he was about twelve feet off the ground. He couldn’t go any higher without risking a fall.
He had barely settled himself in the crook of a branch when the leopard ran into the clearing. This was no stealthy approach or careful stalking of its prey. It was a man-eater all right. A shiver ran down Raki’s spine.
The leopard stood in the clearing, its head thrust slightly forward. It had the appearance of gazing intently and rather short-sightedly at some invisible object in the clearing. But there is nothing short-sighted about a leopard’s vision: both sight and hearing are acute.
Raki remained motionless in the tree but the kid began to bleat. The leopard looked up. A deep rasping sound came from its throat. It was trying to frighten the boy into falling from the tree. Many a monkey has fallen to its doom in this way.
The leopard did not try to leap into the tree. Perhaps it knew that this was not the kind of tree that it could climb easily. Instead it walked a semi-circle around the tree, keeping its head turned towards Raki.
Raki did not flinch. He remembered an expression his father sometimes used—‘always look a tiger in the eye’—and he stared down at the hard blunt shape of the leopard’s head.
Suddenly the leopard disappeared into some bushes.
Although Raki knew that this was just another trick on the part of the leopard, he could not help giving a sigh of relief. And how he longed to be at home, secure behind a heavy door, the lamp burning, and his mother and Puja at his side!
He heard a crackling sound in the trees, and stiffened. He was sure the man-eater was crouching there, watching him. Peering into the darkness, he thought he could make out two glowing eyes staring at him from the bushes. Then he realized that his imagination was playing tricks. The light came from a pair of fireflies, moving slowly through the trees.
The kid was restless and Raki was having difficulty in preventing it from leaping out of his arms.
The cunning man-eater tried to catch Raki off his guard. With a low growl, it rushed back into the clearing. Then it stopped, staring up at Raki in surprise.
The leopard was getting impatient. Snarling, it put its forefeet up against the tree trunk, and began scratching at the bark. The tree shook at each thud of the animal’s paws.
It was then that Raki began shouting for help.
♦
The moon had not yet risen. Down i
n Koli, Raki’s mother and sister stood in their lighted doorway, gazing anxiously up the path. Every now and then Puja would go inside to check the time.
Sanjay’s father appeared in a field below. He held a lamp.
‘Isn’t your boy home yet?’ he asked.
‘No, we are very worried. He should have been home an hour ago. Do you think that leopard will be about tonight?’
‘It’s a dark night. The leopard could be about. I’ll fetch some of the other men and we will go up the mountain for your boy. There may have been a landslide due to the rain. Perhaps the path has been washed away. Don’t worry, we’ll bring him home safely.’
‘Thank you. But arm yourselves well.’
‘I am coming too,’ said Puja.
‘No, you must not go,’ said her mother. ‘It’s bad enough that Raki may be in danger. You stay at home with me.’
‘I shall be safe with the menfolk,’ said Puja. ‘I’m going, mother!’ And she jumped down the embankment into the field and followed Sanjay’s father down the village lane.
Muttering a prayer, Raki’s mother watched them as they disappeared into the darkness. Several lamps appeared and could be seen bobbing up the hill as a small group of people moved silently up the mountain path. Puja walked in the middle of the group, holding a lamp. The men carried staves and axes. As soon as the village was left behind, the men began to shout—both to frighten off the leopard if it was about, and to give themselves courage.
Raki’s calls were carried on the wind, and Puja and the men heard him while they were still half a mile away. Their own shouts increased in volume. Hearing them, Raki felt strength return to his trembling limbs. Growing in confidence, he began shouting insults at the snarling leopard. Then he threw twigs and small branches at the furious animal.
As the search party drew near, they heard the leopard’s snarls and hurried forward. Puja began to run.
‘Don’t rush ahead, girl,’ said Sanjay’s father. ‘Stay between us.’
The leopard, now aware of the approaching humans, stood still in the middle of the clearing, its head thrust forward. There seemed to be too many men for one leopard.
