There She Slept!
God save us everyone,
We’ll be burning inside the fires of a thousand suns,
For the sins of my hand, the sins of my tongue,
The sins of my father, the sins of my young.
-Linkin Park (A Thousand Suns)
There she slept, in a corner. The 100th day was looking at us right in the face. In a week or two, the pride’s number would increase; by two or by six, only time would tell. And then she’ll be gone, for months; returning only when the cubs were old enough to take care of themselves.
Though the females of my species take care of others’ offsprings as their own, the mother takes no chances. Survival was a fight, and the jungle cruel. Precautions are pre-requisite.
I have always liked her the most, and the rest of them were aware of this, my behaviour making feelings obvious. The excitement was building up inside me. Grala was going to be the mother of my cubs- my very own cubs. Her face looked so serene, so captivating, even in her sleep. This was the perfect moment. I could look at her the whole day, but then I was reminded of the dignity; the dignity that I have to maintain as the alpha male.
She stirred in her sleep and purred. She was seeing a dream, a pleasant one, I’m sure. What could she be dreaming of? The cubs playing around her? Or pulling my mane in an attempt to anger me? They are always amusing to look at, these cubs. Their pranks keep the pride alive, always targeting the father; the only way they can bond.
At other times, they never leave the mother’s side. She teaches them how to hunt, the way of life in the jungle, and how to carry oneself as the alpha predator. Being a lion isn’t easy; there is a dignity to maintain.
And then I’ve heard stories; stories that give me Goosebumps. The Wahlbergs’ traverse the entire width of this landmass every summer, bringing home many tales and experiences. It was on one such occasion, when I was shocked to the core. Ami, the best storyteller amongst these eagles, talked about a group of some two legged beings.
“They don’t live in the jungle. Rather, they fell down trees and make wooden caves for themselves.”
“They make those mighty trees fall down? How is that possible?” I asked, astound.
“Not very strong themselves, they are. In fact, your highness could easily hunt them down with a single blow. But they make different claws for themselves; claws that fly, claws that cut, claws that break, yadda yadda…”
I gaped at him, a mix of surprise and shock taking over me. ‘What are these bloody creatures that he’s talking about? How can claws fly on their own? Has Ami lost his senses?’ I wondered.
“I know your highness doesn’t believe me. But what I am about to tell you will move the ground from beneath your paws. It is about your close cousins, the tigers.”
Tigers are the most ferocious relatives that we lions have, especially the ones in the distant land of India. Gigantic, with beautiful striped skin and fur; their presence can be quite intimidating. Lions and tigers, two reasons well enough for the rest of the species to fear and respect us.
‘But what did Ami have to tell me about the tigers? What could’ve possibly happened to them, hearing which, would “move the ground from beneath my paws”?’ I wondered on.
Ami continued “The hoomans-”
“The who?” I cut in.
“The two legged creatures your highness, they call themselves hoomans.”
I nodded in acknowledgement.
“So the hoomans indulge in different activities to keep themselves entertained.” he carried on. “A large nomadic group of these beings travels to different clans, calling themselves a circus. They do various stunts- jumping from heights, eating fire, etc. Major role players in these stunts are monkeys, snakes and other such species. They are kept in captivity, and in pitiful conditions, I must say. Amongst these small animals, sits your majestic cousin, the Indian tiger.”
My eyes were wide open, shocked.
“He is made to jump through a circle of fire. If he doesn’t adhere to this instruction, he is hit with a claw called a whip.”
Ami continued “You see your majesty; I have seen many emotions and expressions on the faces of your esteemed cat family — authority, rage, and even calmness, to name a few. But I’ll never forget that day, the day I saw this cousin of yours. I saw an emotion which I never thought I would get to see on the face of a Royal Bengal Tiger — fear!”
“FEAR…?” I’d exclaimed, outraged. “How could that be possible?’’
But yes, fear it was!
A clamour brought me back to reality- a din that was definitely not Grala’s purring. I’d never heard something of this manner. This wasn’t a sound of the jungle. No animal was capable of making such a racket, my experience of the jungle told me. It was some rhythmic beat. As if two objects were being beaten against each other to generate it. And it was getting louder, gradually. I dismissed the caution presented by my instinct, considering it to be a result of my thoughts.
But then the hyenas started howling.
‘In the middle of the day?’ I thought to myself.
I sat up, alert. What was this signal for? It was just last week that we’d hunted down a big male elephant; a major achievement for the pride. The food would last us weeks. There were enough leftovers for the hyenas as well. Why were they signaling for a hunt then?
WAIT! This wasn’t the signal for a potential hunt- it was a warning. Beware!
A critical event was in motion — something that the jungle had never witnessed before, something that the jungle wouldn’t want to witness ever. I am the king of this entire forest, and lurking about was a threat to my subjects, a threat to my very own pride. Matters had to be taken care of.
Cautiously, I walked out of the den. I cast a glance at Grala. She was still asleep, unaware of the sudden turmoil. I let her be and walked hence.
All the birds were chattering. It was so loud that it would’ve been audible at the edge of the world. All the animals I passed by looked scared, rushing towards their burrows and dens in panic. Fear!
But I moved on, walking towards the din. Whatever this was, had to be dealt with. The tender fabric of my jungle’s ecosystem was being torn apart, and I could not let that happen. As I approached the source, the din became deafening. I could see some strange figures as the foliage cleared.
And suddenly, I was standing in an open ground. Scores of two-legged creatures surrounded me. I stood facing them, puzzled. The noise was coming from a strange thing, five of those, being beaten by five of these creatures. A few of them were sitting on horses, and one of them sitting on the top of an elephant. ‘How in the world was this possible?’ I asked myself.
Then reality hit me in the face. The creatures standing in front of me were hoomans, the ones that Ami had told me about. Only they could be capable of taming the largest animal known.
But what were they doing here? What purpose did they have?
I glanced around. Some kind of excitement was running through them. They communicated in some strange language, and I didn’t understand a single growl of it. ‘Why couldn’t they simply communicate by roaring and purring, like we do?’ I wondered. And why walk on two legs, why not four?
The second question was answered within a moment of me asking it to myself. The man sitting on the elephant took out a strange looking ‘thing’ and pointed it towards me. He pulled at a small hair thin structure, using his upper legs, towards him, and then let go of it. A part of that ‘thing’ came flying towards me, piercing my skin, creating a deep wound.
“ROOAARRR!” I cried in pain.
It was the flying claw, I realised; the one that Ami was talking of. A couple of more such claws found their mark on me.
I felt the energy draining off me, seeing my own blood flow out of me for the first time. I wanted to fight back, my survival instincts telling me to do so; but here I was lying down in a pond of blood, waiting for my end. This isn’t how I’d imagined my end would be, but this is the moment of truth and I have to live it out.
I heard the hoomans cheering around the man on the elephant, maybe praising him for this marvellous alpha predator that he’d hunted down. Their ruckus slowly became distant, and the pain minimal.
Eventually, I was a lion no more. A formless entity is what I’ve become now; suddenly having attained truths that I never knew existed. The humans are very different from the rest of the species, they kill for fun. They’ll take my mortal remains as a trophy back to their settlement. Bards would sing praises, glorifying the King’s ‘bravery’!
And when Grala wakes up, she’ll come to know of my mortal fate. She’ll be very upset initially, I know, but only till a new male takes over the pride. Then they’ll become partners, having their own cubs, and the forest worshipping a new king. Surprisingly, this doesn’t worry me, because that is how the lions live. This was a truth which I’d accepted in my mortal life.
What troubles me is how the humans conduct themselves. Thinking that their king is lionhearted, having hunted down a lion, in spite of knowing the fact that a hands on fight would’ve resulted differently. Looking from the human’s perspective, I am just a big carnivore, who’s been made to descend from the throne of the food chain.
The bards will sing songs, glorifying the King, stories will glorify the king, and history will glorify the king; all because the lion can’t speak, the lion can’t write. And that is what troubles me…
