by Collen Houck
“Mr. Davis said that tigers can’t purr. He told me that the big cats that growl and roar can’t purr.”
“Ah, you are correct. Modern science says that a tiger cannot produce the sound identified as a purr.
Several of the larger cats make a pulsating noise, but it isn’t quite the same as the purr of a housecat.
Still,
there are some Indian myths that speak of a tiger purring. It’s also said that a tiger’s body has unique healing properties. This is one of the reasons why they are regularly hunted and killed and their bodies mutilated or ground up and sold for parts.”
He leaned back in his chair, relaxing. “Those of the Islamic faith believe that Allah will send the tiger to defend and protect those who follow him faithfully, but he will also send a tiger to punish those he considers traitors.”
“Hmm…I think if I were Islamic I would run away from it, just to be on the safe side. I wouldn’t know if
it’s coming to punish or to protect.”
He laughed. “Yes, very wise of you. I confess, I have adopted somewhat of the same fascination that my
employer has for tigers, and I have studied numerous texts regarding the mythology of Indian tigers.”
He trailed off for a moment, lost in thought, and his eyes glazed over. His index finger rubbed at a spot on his chest, and I noticed he was wearing a chain that was tucked inside his shirt.
As his focus turned back to me, he quickly dropped his hand to his lap and continued, “Tigers are also a symbol of power and immortality. They are said to vanquish evil through various means. They are called life givers, sentinels, guardians, and defenders.”
I straightened my legs and angled my head back into the pillow. “Are there any damsel-in-distress type tiger myths?”
He considered, “Hmm…yes, in fact, one of my favorite stories is about a white tiger that sprouts wings and saves the princess who loves him from a cruel fate. Carrying her on his back, they relinquish their corporeal forms and become a single white streak as they journey into the heavens, eventually joining the
stars of the Milky Way. Together they spend eternity watching over and protecting the people of Earth.”
I yawned sleepily. “That’s really beautiful. I think that one’s my favorite too.”
His soft, melodic voice had relaxed me. Despite my best efforts to stay awake and listen, I was falling asleep.
He continued steadily, “In Nagaland, they believe that tigers and men are related, that they are brothers.
There is one myth that begins…‘Mother Earth was the mother of the tiger and also of man. Once the two brothers were happy, loved one another, and lived in harmony, but a feud began over a woman and Brother Tiger and Brother Man fought so wildly that Mother Earth could no longer tolerate their quarrel and had to send them both away.
“‘So Brother Tiger and Brother Man left the home of Mother Earth and emerged from a very deep, dark passage in the earth said to be a pangolin’s den. Living together on the earth, the two brothers still fought every day, until eventually they decided it would be better to live separately. Brother Tiger went south to hunt in the jungle, and Brother Man went north to farm in the valley. If they stayed away from each other, then both were content. But, if one encroached upon the other’s territory, fighting began anew. Many lifetimes later, the legend still holds true. If the descendants of Brother Man leave the jungles
in peace, Brother Tiger will also leave us in peace. Still, the tiger is our kin, and it is said that if you stare
into a tiger’s eyes long enough, you will be able to recognize a kindred spirit.”’
My eyelids were drooping against my wishes. I wanted to ask what a pangolin’s den was, but my mouth wouldn’t move and my eyelids felt so heavy. I made one last effort to stay awake by shifting up in my seat a little bit, forcing my eyes open.
He was looking at me thoughtfully. “Awhite tiger is a very special kind of tiger. It is immitigably drawn to
a person, agirl , who has a powerful sense of self-conviction. This woman will possess great inner strength, will have the insight to discern good from evil, and will have the power to overcome many obstacles. If she has the fortitude, the faith, and an open heart, then she who is called to walk with tigers…”
I fell asleep.
When I awoke, the chair across from me was empty. I sat up and looked around, but I didn’t see Mr.
Kadam anywhere. Unbuckling my seatbelt, I headed off to find the restroom. Opening a sliding door, I walked into a surprisingly large bathroom. This was not at all like the small boxy bathrooms in a regular plane. The lights were recessed in the walls and they softly illuminated the special features of the room.
The bathroom was decorated in copper, cream, and rust colors, which were more to my liking than the modern austere look of the plane’s cabin.
The first thing I noticed was the shower! I opened the glass door to peer inside. It had beautiful rust-and cream-colored tiles set in a lovely pattern. There were mounted pumps full of shampoo, conditioner, and soap. The copper showerhead was detachable, and a simple squeeze turned it on and off, similar to a kitchen sink sprayer. I figured this design would help to use less water, which wouldn’t be in abundance on a plane. A thick cream-colored rug covered the beautiful tiled floor.
Off to the side two vertical cubbies, set into the wall, were filled with soft, alabaster towels held in place
with a copper bar. Another wide compartment sported a silky soft, ivory, fully lined robe that felt like cashmere. It hung from a copper bar. Just under that, another smaller alcove held a pair of cashmere slippers.
A deep sink, shaped like a skinny rectangle, had a pump on each side of the copper faucet. One was full of creamy soap and the other with a sweet-smelling lavender lotion.
I finished up in the bathroom, almost hating to leave it, and headed back to my seat. Mr. Kadam was back, and the flight attendant brought us a delightful-smelling lunch. She had arranged a table between us
and had it set for two. What made our table unique were the slight depressions designed to hold all of our
dinnerware. Our plates sat in short, round grooves specially made to fit them. There was a little thumbnail
on one side so that the attendant could lift them in and out easily. Our glasses rested in slightly deeper grooves, and there was even a small vase full of short-stemmed yellow roses set in its own hollowed out space.
She pulled the warmer cover off our plates, and I inhaled the delicious aroma of fish. She said,
“Today’s lunch is crusted hazel-nut halibut with buttered asparagus, garlic mashed potatoes, and a lemon tart for
dessert. What would you like to drink?”
“Water with some lemon,” I responded.
“I’ll have the same,” said Mr. Kadam.
We enjoyed our lunch together. Mr. Kadam asked me lots of questions about Oregon. He seemed to have an unquenchable thirst for learning new facts and asked me about everything from sports,which I know almost nothing about , to politics,which I know absolutely nothing about , to the flora and fauna of the state,which I know a lot about .
We talked about the salmon runs, the Christmas tree farms, the farmer’s markets, and the blackberry bushes that were so common in Oregon, people actually considered them weeds. He was easy to talk with, a great listener, and I felt comfortable with him. The thought crossed my mind that he would make a
wonderful grandpa. I never got a chance to know either of mine. They died before I was born, as did my other grandma.
Finishing our lunch, the attendant returned to clear our plates, and I watched how she removed the table.
As she pushed a little button, a small, quiet motor sounded. The rectangular table rose up until it was flush
to the wall and then slid itself into the paneling. As the table settled, she let go of the button and instructed
us to buckle up because we’d be arriving in New York soon.
The de
scent was as smooth as the takeoff, so I made it a point after we landed to meet the pilot and tell him that he was exceptionally gifted. Mr. Kadam had to translate for me because the pilot didn’t speak English other than the basic flight words needed by a pilot. As we refueled for the journey to Mumbai, I visited with Dhiren.
I sat down on the floor next to his cage after making sure he had enough to eat and drink. He sauntered over and collapsed down on the floor right next to me. His back was stretched out down the length of the cage with his striped fur sticking out through the bars tickling my legs and his face next to my hand.
I laughed at him, leaned over to stroke the fur on his back, and recounted some of the tiger myths that Mr. Kadam had shared with me. His tail kept flicking back and forth, in and out of the cage bars. Time flew by quickly, and the plane was soon ready to take off again. Mr. Kadam was already strapping in. I quickly patted Ren’s back and returned to my chair as well.
We took off, and Mr. Kadam warned me that this would be a long flight, about sixteen hours, and also that we would lose a day on the calendar. After we reached the proper cruising altitude, he suggested that I might like to watch a movie. The flight attendant handed me a list of all the movies they had available, and I picked the longest one on the list:Gone with the Wind .
She moved to the bar area, pushed a button on the wall, and a large white screen quietly slid out from the side of the bar. Mr. Kadam was reading a foreign newspaper, so the attendant brought me a headset.
My chair turned around easily to face the screen and it even reclined with a footrest, so I made myself comfortable and passed the time with Scarlett and Rhett.
When I finally got to, “After all…tomorrow…is…another day,” I stood up and stretched. The flight attendant bustled over and returned the movie screen to its resting place, and then she began setting up the table again for dinner. I looked out the window and it was black outside. It only felt like 5:00 p.m., but I guessed it was probably 9:00 p.m. in our current time zone.
The flight attendant brought out our dinner. “Thank you so much for these delicious meals. Can I ask what your name is?”
“Nilima.”
“Thank you, Nilima, for the wonderful service.”
“Yes, thank you, Nilima.” Mr. Kadam winked at her, and she inclined her head slightly and left.
I shared an amiable dinner once again with Mr. Kadam. This time we talked abouthis country. He told me all kinds of interesting things and described fascinating places in India. I wondered if I would have time to see or do any of those things. He spoke of ancient Indian warlords, mighty fortresses, Asian invaders, and horrible battles. When he talked, I felt like I was there seeing and experiencing it myself.
For dinner, Nilima served us stuffed chicken Marsala with grilled zucchini and a salad. I felt a little better
eating more vegetables, but then she brought out mini chocolate lava cakes for dessert. I sighed. “Why does everything so bad for you always taste so dreamy?”
Mr. Kadam laughed. “Would you feel better if we shared one?”
I grinned. “Sure.”
I cut my lava cake in half and spooned his portion onto a clean plate Nilima had brought out.
I licked the hot fudge sauce off my spoon and asked, “Mr. Kadam, why did the city of Bombay change its name to Mumbai?”
“Ah, Mumbai was always the name of the island.”
“Island?”
“Yes. In fact, Mumbai is comprised of seven islands that were given as part of a dowry to Catherine Braganza when she married King Charles II. They came into British possession in 1665. The Portuguese called the islands ‘Bom Baim,’ which means beautiful bay. The British called the settlement Bombay and
many westerners still do. In 1997, the Indian parliament passed an act that officially changed the name to
Mumbai, which is the name they had called it all along anyway.”
For the next couple of hours we talked about our favorite books. He liked classic novels like I did, and we had a great time revisiting memorable characters like Hamlet, Captain Ahab, Dr. Frankenstein, Robinson Crusoe, Jean Valjean, Iago, Hester Prynne, and Mr. Darcy. He also introduced me to a couple of Indian characters that I might be interested in reading about like Arjuna, Shakuntala, or perhaps Gengi from Japanese literature. Stifling a yawn, I went back to check on Ren again. I reached through the bars to pet his head and scratched him behind the ear.
Mr. Kadam watched me and said, “Miss Kelsey…are you not afraid of this tiger? You don’t think that he can hurt you?”
“I think hecan hurt me, but I know hewon’t hurt me. It’s hard to explain, but I feel safe with him, almost like he’s more of a friend than a wild animal.” Mr. Kadam didn’t seem alarmed, only curious.
He spoke softly to the attendant for a moment. She approached me, inquiring, “Are you ready to sleep for a while, Miss?” I nodded, and she showed me where my bag had been stowed. I picked it up and set off for the bathroom. I wasn’t gone for very long, but she’d been very busy.
There was now a curtain dividing the area, and she’d set up a pullout couch that became a snug bed with
satin sheets and thick, soft pillows. A recessed light with a button was set in the wall right next to the bed.
The plane was darkened, and she told me that Mr. Kadam would be on the other side of the curtain if I needed anything.
I climbed under the covers with my book and looked over at the cage where Ren was resting with his head on his paws. He watched me drowsily through slit eyes.
“Good night, Ren. See you in India tomorrow.”
Too tired to read, I turned off the light and let the plane rock me to sleep.
The smell of bacon woke me up. I peeked around the corner and saw Mr. Kadam seated while reading the paper with a glass of apple juice on the table in front of him. He looked at me over the paper. I saw that his hair was slightly wet and that he was already dressed for the day. “Best attend your morning ablutions, Miss Kelsey. We will be arriving soon.”
I grabbed my bag and headed for the luxurious bathroom. I took a quick shower, soaping through my hair with the fragrant rose-scented shampoo. When finished, I wrapped my hair with a thick towel and pulled on the cashmere robe. I sighed deeply and let myself bask in the soft fabric for a moment while I decided what to wear. I chose a red blouse with jeans and brushed my hair back into a ponytail, tying it with a red ribbon. Last, I pulled on my sneakers. Hurrying back to Mr. Kadam, I sunk down in the leather chair while Nilima brought me a hot plate of bacon, eggs, and toast.
I ate the eggs, nibbled on the toast, and drank some orange juice. I decided to save my bacon for Ren.
As Nilima stowed the bed and the table from breakfast, I wandered over to the cage with my bacon.
Trying to tempt Ren, I held out a piece through the cage. He came over, very gently bit the edge, pulled it
out of my hand, and then swallowed it down in one gulp.
I laughed. “Gee, Ren, you’ve gotta chew it. Wait, do tigers chew? Well, at least eat it slower. You probably never get a treat like this.” I held out the other three pieces one by one. He gulped them all down and then shot his tongue through the bars to lick my fingers.
I laughed quietly and went to the bar to wash my hands. I cleaned up all my belongings and stowed my bag in the overhead compartment. I’d just finished when Mr. Kadam pointed out the window and said,
“Miss Kelsey, we’re here.”
CHAPTER 6
Igazed out the window as we flew in over the ocean and into the city. I was amazed by how many tall buildings there were. I guess I hadn’t really expected a modern city, but spread out before me were hundreds of tall, white, uniform buildings. We circled the large, half-moon-shaped airport, and I heard the
wheels drop in preparation for our landing.
The plane bounced twice and settled down to hug the runway. I whirled in my chair to see how Ren was doing. He was standing up expectantly but, other than that, he seemed
fine.
I felt a rush of exuberant energy as we taxied across the runway and came to a stop on the outskirts of the airstrip.
“Miss Kelsey, are you ready to disembark?”
“Yes. Just let me grab my bag.”
I slung my bag over my shoulder, stepped out of the plane, and skipped quickly down the steps to the ground. Deeply inhaling the heavy, wet, sultry air, I was surprised to see a gray sky.
“Mr. Kadam, isn’t it usually hot and sunny in India?”
“This is the monsoon season. It’s almost never cold here, but we do get rain in July and August and, on occasion, a cyclone.”
It was warm and humid but tolerable. “It’s not too bad. I figured it would be about one hundred twenty degrees, but this feels more like eighty.”
“Southwestern India does reach high temperatures, but usually the warmest it gets to be in Mumbai is the
low nineties. The monsoons cool us off a bit. I’ll take your bag and you keep an eye on Dhiren as he’s loaded onto the truck.”
I handed him my bag and strolled over to watch some workers attempt to load Ren. This was a much different operation than it had been in the United States. They had attached a long chain to his collar and two of the men held it while another man affixed a ramp onto the back of a truck. They got Dhiren out of
the plane okay, but then the man closest to Ren pulled on the chain too tightly. The tiger reacted fast. He roared angrily and half-heartedly swiped his paw at the man.
I knew it was dangerous for me to approach, but something pulled me. Thinking only of Ren’s comfort, I
walked over to the frightened man, took the chain from him, and motioned for him to back away. He seemed grateful to be relieved of the responsibility. I spoke soothing words to the tiger, patted his back, and encouraged him to walk with me to the truck.
He responded immediately and trotted beside me as docile as a lamb, dragging the heavy chains behind him on the ground. At the ramp, he stopped and rubbed his body against my leg, and when he jumped up the ramp and into the truck, he quickly turned around to face me and licked my arm.
