Tiger Boy

by Mitali Perkins

  “Of course I would! You could come back, you know.” She swept the pile under his feet and guided the dust toward the open door.

  “Why would I leave when you’re such a good cook?” he asked, smiling. “Dinner’s a long time away, and I’m hungry, Didi.”

  She smiled. “You don’t need compliments to get leftovers. You know I always keep some for you.”

  She swept the dust outside and returned with a small pot of rice and lentils, still warm from the midday meal. Neel ate the small helping in three gulps, and Rupa handed him a wet cloth to wipe his fingers. “Not everything here is good, Neel. Can’t you see that? Baba works too hard and risks his life every time he goes into the reserve. Cyclones come and destroy our crops. In the city, girls can study as much as boys and work at all kinds of jobs. I wish all of us could live there.”

  “I wish you could take the exam instead of me.”

  “Ha! Our school has never sent a girl to compete for the scholarship.” It was true. This was partly because many of the island girls never made it to Class Five—they were sent to the city to earn money for their families or pulled out of school to work at home like Rupa. Neel’s sister got up early to pump and haul water, feed the animals, make patties out of cow dung for fuel, wash clothes, tend the garden, cook, and clean. Now she took the empty pot outside to wash it at the pump.

  Ma was still chanting in a low voice behind the sari, and it was harder than ever for Neel to concentrate, especially on geometry. Proofs tied his brain into knots as tight as the ones on his father’s fishing nets. Problems about triangles, rectangles, and circles didn’t make any sense, no matter how much he squinted at or angled the page. His fingers, unlike Baba’s, were clumsy around tools, especially ones as delicate as a protractor, compass, or ruler. Plus he kept worrying about the cub. Where was she hiding? Who would find her first? If only he could tell the rangers about Gupta’s plan! They came down hard on poachers in the Sunderbans. How dare he even think about stealing one of our cubs! I’d like to cut up his body parts and sell them on the black market.

  Rupa’s next indoor task was to sift through a bag of uncooked rice from the market and pick out the small stones the vendors mixed in to make it weigh more.

  Neel was tired of keeping his thoughts to himself. “That Gupta thinks he’s so big! I can’t stand him!”

  His sister frowned. “I know. I wish Baba didn’t have to work for him.”

  “At least Baba doesn’t do any dirty work,” Neel said, watching his sister pour more rice into the flat basket on her lap. He remembered Baba carving Gupta’s balcony out of sundari wood, but he didn’t say anything to his sister. Let her find out for herself, or better yet, never find out.

  “Some people will do anything for money,” Rupa said.

  “You’re right. Wait—isn’t that why you all want me to go to school in Kolkata—for all the money I might earn in the future?”

  “No—for the opportunity, crazy. Which reminds me: get to work. And I mean study—not daydream or doodle or write a poem like you usually do.” Ruffling her brother’s hair, Rupa took the sifted rice outside to wash it and put it on the stove.

  After writing what he knew was the wrong answer to the first geometry problem, Neel put his pencil and protractor down and rested his head on his arms. It wasn’t fair. All he wanted was to live at home, fish, build, carve, and hunt honey, like his father. But Baba wouldn’t teach him those skills, and it was all because of Neel’s success in school. Why had he been given this useless ability to absorb the meaning of words, sentences, stories, books? A boy didn’t need to read or write well to become a fisherman or a carpenter.

  After a while his sister came in again. Immediately Neel sat up, grabbed his compass, and started twisting it around on the page.

  “I can see through the window, you know,” Rupa scolded, stirring sugar into a hot, milky cup of tea for Neel. She always saved the tea bag from his morning tea to use it again in the afternoon. “You can’t learn math while snoring.”

  “I wasn’t snoring!”

  Ma pushed back the sari to intervene. “Rupa! Go pump more water and peel the potatoes. And don’t scold your brother—I’m sure he’ll start studying harder than ever now.”

  “I was pouring his tea, Ma,” Rupa said, but she grabbed the bucket and headed outside again.

  Ma slowly followed, dropping a kiss on Neel’s head and humming a song under her breath. Neel liked hearing his mother make music again—she had been sick for so long, her temperature raging until she hardly recognized them. The medicine to cure dysentery had been expensive, but it had done the job. She was still weak, but at least now she was able to walk outside in the sunshine and fresh air.

  He sighed and turned the page. Maybe he could make sense of the algebra problems his teacher had assigned. Those were a bit more interesting than geometry, but he still had to push his brain harder than he liked. He could almost hear it groaning inside his head as he tried to concentrate. The problem was that math seemed so boring; his brain never needed urging when it came to reading or writing. He picked up his pencil and began to try to untangle an equation with unknown x’s and unnamed y’s.

  Six

  BABA GOT BACK LATE. The moon had risen, and rice was simmering on the clay stove when Neel spotted him coming into the courtyard. Usually his father stopped to scratch the goats’ heads and check their pen for water. They’d bleat in bliss, and the chickens and rooster would cluster around his feet as if they, too, welcomed him home. Only after greeting and caring for the animals did Baba wash his feet, legs, arms, and hands with the water in the bucket Rupa left for him. But today the bleating and clucking was in vain. Baba strode past the animals and went straight to the pump.

  “Neel, come quickly and eat,” Ma called from the courtyard.

  Neel walked to the threshold and slipped into his sandals. Usually he ran to join Baba, but today his feet dragged. What would his father say about the encounter with Headmaster? Would he be angry?

  But Baba didn’t say a word. His face looked as grooved and gnarled as an old door. He stayed quiet as Rupa and Ma served lentils, rice, spinach, potatoes, and eggs. Usually he complimented the cooking, joked, and told stories about his day. But today he only spoke to turn down Ma’s offer of a second egg, and Neel followed his example. Like the other women and older girls in the village, Ma and Rupa ate later, after the men and children, and Baba always made sure there was plenty left in the pots when he and Neel were done eating.

  The meal was ending as silently as it had begun. Baba didn’t even look at any of them. He ate with shoulders slumped, frowning at his plate.

  “Baba . . . I’m sorry about today,” Neel said finally, when he could no longer stand the silence. “I’ll start studying harder—I promise.”

  “You heard Headmaster, Neel,” Baba said. “Studying harder won’t help.”

  “Why not?” Ma asked. “I can promise you the boy studied all afternoon and evening. He will win that scholarship—I know he can do it!”

  But Baba only sighed and shook his head. He stood up and trudged into the house, his figure as bent as if he were carrying a heavy load of wood on his strong shoulders.

  That night Neel slept fitfully, waking from a nightmare about a pack of vultures tearing the cub’s body to shreds. Had she been found? Was a boat carrying her to the port of Kolkata so she could be smuggled out of the country and sold? If she was still on the island, where could she be hiding? He couldn’t fall back to sleep; he could barely keep his heart from racing like an out-of-control rickshaw. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to practice a habit he’d invented to settle down after a bad dream. Bit by bit, his mind began to map out the island he knew so well, strolling from home to school, to the market, and around the other side, then detouring through the interior, circling ponds, crossing creeks, exploring forests. This time, however, he couldn’t help taking the cub with him. He followed her mentally as she left the reserve, swam across the wide waterway,
reached the island’s shore, climbed up the bank, crossed the path, disappeared through the trees, and padded beside a twisting creek. Crocodiles lurked on the banks—could one have captured the cub in its powerful jaws? They often dragged away their prey before devouring it. His heart thumped faster instead of slower—the relaxing trick wasn’t working this time. Stay alive, baby. Your mother wants you home. That’s where you belong—safe and sound on your island. Finally he fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.

  Baba was still shrouded in the same strange silence during breakfast, and this time Neel couldn’t bring himself to try to break it. A scolding or even a beating might be better than this, he thought, longing for the easy chatter and laughter that usually accompanied their meals. Weary after his restless night, he dressed for school and trudged to the well to wait for Ajay.

  A few women gathering water greeted him. “Our whole village is counting on you to win that scholarship,” one said. “You will make your ma and baba so proud.”

  “I hope so, Auntie,” said Neel, shifting his feet and watching for his friend. He was sure Ajay would have new details about the cub, since he and Viju lived near each other.

  Ajay came bounding over, swinging his satchel.

  “Did they find her?” Neel asked as soon as they were out of earshot of the women.

  “Three of Gupta’s men were out searching all night. Viju went with them, but there was no sign of the cub anywhere.”

  Neel exhaled in relief. “Thank goodness. We have to find her first, Ajay!”

  “Not me. I don’t want to get in trouble. Let’s not talk about Gupta anymore—it’s too dangerous.”

  It was hard to avoid the subject of the cub’s escape at school. Again and again Teacher disciplined his Class Five students for discussing her chances of survival instead of doing their classwork. Only Ajay and Neel kept silent. Their classmates didn’t realize the cub was facing something even more dangerous than crocodiles or hunger.

  Just as the last bell rang, Headmaster stalked into their classroom. Immediately Teacher and all fifty of the students rose to their feet. “Good afternoon, Headmaster,” they chorused.

  Headmaster didn’t return their greeting. “We need to talk,” he said to Teacher.

  “Class dismissed,” Teacher said. He made sure the students were standing in a straight line as they waited to exit the room. Headmaster, however, adjusted the order, taking Neel by the arm and pulling him to the back. Ajay immediately joined his friend.

  As the front of the line began filing out, the sound of marching muffled Teacher’s words to Headmaster. Headmaster waited until only a few students were left in the room. His voice was as loud as the scolding of a rhesus monkey high in the sundari trees. “Stupid rich man fed me tea and gave me a rickshaw ride home. But would he donate any rupees to our school? No! All the furniture here is falling apart—including these ancient desks!”

  Thwack! Headmaster kicked an old desk so hard one of the legs broke. The desk tipped to the side like a boat about to capsize, and a pile of books and papers tumbled to the floor. “Boys, pick those up immediately,” he commanded, but Ajay and Neel had already started gathering the books. It wouldn’t be right to leave them on the floor or step on them with dirty feet.

  Teacher squatted by the tilting desk and tried to straighten the broken leg. “Looks as if it’s beyond repair,” he said, sighing.

  “Think the boy has any chance at that scholarship?” Headmaster asked, tipping his head in Neel’s direction.

  Teacher stood up, giving up on the slanted desk. “I’ve been reviewing portions of last year’s exam with him. As I told you, sir, he’s doing exceptionally well in all the subjects but math.”

  “Let me see his last attempt.”

  Teacher rummaged through a file and pulled out Neel’s assignment from the day before, which was covered with red ink. “With fifty students, sir, and my after-school tutoring, I can’t spend much time helping him. I grade his practice exams and assign him extra problems every day, but he doesn’t seem to be mastering it.”

  They were discussing him as though he weren’t there, but that didn’t surprise Neel. Elders had the right to do this. His face burned as Headmaster scanned the page.

  “I could do these problems in my sleep, and I studied them forty-five years ago. There are so many careless mistakes! He’s not even trying, is he?” Headmaster crumpled the paper and tossed it on the ground.

  “Neel is by far the brightest child in the school, sir,” Teacher said. “You’ve always picked the top-scoring student to represent our school.”

  “Yes, but this particular one doesn’t understand the gift of a good education.” Headmaster threw a scowl at Neel, who averted his eyes and went back to gathering papers. “He needs expert help at this point. That tutor from Kolkata might be able to get him in shape—I hear he can actually make the laziest student want to learn. But this one’s father is too poor to afford his fees.”

  Neel’s fist tightened around his crumpled math homework. Headmaster might have the right to talk about Neel’s failures, but how dare he drag Baba’s name through the mud?

  Teacher seemed to agree with Neel’s silent defense. “His father’s a good worker, sir. The whole island’s been struggling since the cyclone.”

  “That’s why the boy needs to seize this opportunity with both hands,” said Headmaster. He sighed. “Well, as the Americans like to say, ‘You can only make a horse drink so much water.’”

  You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink, Neel corrected, biting his lip so his anger wouldn’t make him say it aloud. Teacher’s English skills were better than Headmaster’s, but Neel noticed he didn’t correct the mangled phrase either.

  Headmaster switched back to Bangla, swinging his hand wrist-down at the boys. “You two good-fornothings are dismissed,” he said, brushing by them and stalking out of the classroom.

  Slowly Neel unclenched his fist, just as Baba had done the day before, and his homework dropped into the waste bin. He didn’t want to see those problems again, covered with red marks. What a lot of time he’d wasted the night before! He could have been in the mangrove forest instead, looking for the cub.

  Another student came in and took a seat. He was one of the few boys on the island whose parents paid Teacher for extra tutoring after school.

  “Here’s tonight’s math,” Teacher said, handing Neel a sheaf of papers. “Do the best you can.”

  As Neel and Ajay walked home, Neel imagined a detailed scene of the mother tiger leaping through the school window and pouncing on Headmaster. She could track Gupta down and devour him next.

  Ajay turned to Neel. “You don’t have a chance at that scholarship, do you?”

  “Not a hope in a million.”

  “I’m glad. You’d have to study in Kolkata for years, and then you’d probably get a job there, or somewhere else far away.”

  “I know. Horrible thought.” As they walked the familiar path, Neel stopped every now and then to peer through the underbrush. “I’d like to search the trees behind the freshwater pond. It’s hard to find the trail that leads to the hiding places back there. I don’t think Viju could do it without me.”

  “Be quiet, will you?” Ajay kept his own voice low. “No use looking in the daytime anyway. She’s probably fast asleep somewhere deep in the forest. Gupta’s men are going to search again tonight, Viju said. That’s when tigers roam about.”

  “They’ll be sure to catch her, then,” said Neel, with another pang for the cub. “It’s going to be a full moon in a few days.”

  “Maybe she’ll swim back to the reserve,” Ajay whispered hopefully.

  “Maybe.” But Neel guessed the cub would be too terrified to venture out of her hiding place, except maybe to scavenge for food. He was sure she had found a spot where there was no human scent and was staying there until her mother came for her.

  They’d reached the pond. “Speaking of a swim . . . ,” Ajay said.

  Neel
hesitated. He pictured the new pages of math in his satchel, which meant hours at his desk late into the night. A quick swim could refresh his tired mind and body. Besides, I’m sure Headmaster won’t walk this way two days in a row. “I’ll beat you this time, Ajay!”

  The two boys moved so quickly, it seemed that their discarded clothes were still floating to the ground as their bodies hit the water. With a shout Neel grabbed Ajay’s heel, yanked his friend backward, and headed across the pond as fast as he could. Ajay passed him easily in a minute, laughing as he swam by.

  Seven

  THREE LONG DAYS and nights passed without any sign of the cub. The air on the island was thick with talk and tension. Was she still alive? Would she ever be found? Meanwhile the rangers were frantically trying to calm the mother tiger and keep her safely inside the reserve. The fence was strong, but it always needed repair, and an angry tiger could claw open a small tear in no time. If the mother tiger escaped and swam to their island, she could kill several people before the rangers could tranquilize her.

  Ma was praying more than usual, and Baba still wasn’t speaking much. He returned from work late and barely ate, sitting in that same strange, troubled gloom. For the first time in his life, Neel, too, was finding it difficult to eat. Had Headmaster’s public scolding broken Baba’s heart?

  “Baba,” Neel said on the third evening, ending the heavy silence, “I was wondering something.”

  Baba roused himself. “Yes, Neel. What is it?”

  “That cub. Don’t you think that you and I could find her—”

  “Too dangerous, Neel. This island’s not as safe as it used to be.”

  “But I—”

  “Listen to your baba. Neel,” Ma added. “Stay close to home. And study. That’s your task.”

  And that was the end of that. That night, knowing Gupta’s men were out hunting, Neel tossed and turned, his brain taking him on imaginary searches for the cub. It was a full moon, so the whole island would be illuminated with light except for the most dense corners of the mangrove forest. As he worried over the cub, he could hear his parents talking on the other side of the divider. Even though they kept their voices low, he caught snippets of their whispered conversation.