Chained (18 page)

Breakfast is ready just before Timir and Sharad arrive. The roti is almost too hot to eat. Steam rises from its soft center when I bite into it. The mangoes are perfectly sweet and spicy and salty. When I get up to fill my plate again, Ne Min asks for another helping, too.

*   *   *

One evening Nandita rolls in the dust while I clean the arena. Everyone else has left for the day, and I am ready to finish my work and head to my hammock. I’ve kept making the marks on the stable, even after they let me know I’m supposed to be home.

Nandita stands and circles her trunk in the dirt, collects a pile of dust, and throws it over her back. She tosses some dirt in my direction.

“Nandita, stop that!” I laugh as I shake the dirt out of my hair. She looks like she is laughing, too.

Then she freezes. She raises her trunk high and flattens her ears against her head as she stares at the distant trees.

“What is it, Nandita?” As I step closer I notice the air trembles as if shaken by thunder, but the sky is clear and quiet.

I hold my hand up to pet Nandita, and vibrations tickle my palm. She doesn’t move when I rest my hand high on her trunk, then her forehead. Here is where the silent rumbling comes from. My hand and arm tingle all the way to my shoulder. I follow her gaze, toward the trees. For the longest time we stand there together, my hand on her forehead.

Finally I hear it—the calls of the wild elephants. I have heard them before, but this time they do not sound so far away. The tops of the trees shake, and Nandita and I watch, still and silent.

The elephants emerge from the trees, looking larger and larger as they head closer to the place that has been our home for so long.

As they approach I look at each elephant, one by one. Some are Nandita’s size. Some look older, like the bull that Ne Min and I saw—tall and heavy, with tattered ears and splotches on the face and trunk where gray skin has faded to pink. One of the youngest is just starting to grow his tusks. Unlike the bull’s, they are bright white, smooth and unbroken. My eyes stop scanning the herd when I notice who is behind him. The elephant who nudges him to keep up with the herd has skin like moonlight through a storm cloud.

Indurekha.
Moonbeam.

At times I have wondered about her, but I always picture her as the young elephant I first saw in the forest, wrestling with Nandita in the river.

The elephants stop walking when they reach the fence surrounding the property. My hand slides off Nandita’s head as she leaves my side. I open the arena gate to allow her to approach the herd.

Their excitement turns into a storm of thundering blasts, flapping ears, swaying trunks, and spinning. Some of the older ones reach over the wires of the fence to touch Nandita’s head and face, and they put their trunks into one another’s mouths. Indurekha pushes her way to the front of the crowd, and she and Nandita entwine their trunks. A large elephant rumbles and plows through the herd to reach the fence. She looks like Sanjana, the one whose trumpet of rage at the trap told me that she was Nandita’s mother. Indurekha steps aside. Sanjana touches Nandita’s face with her trunk.

After some time the storm quiets. Nandita is with her herd but not truly with them. They will move on, while she stands behind the fence that imprisons her.

The largest elephant is the first to walk away, followed by the smallest. One by one the elephants step away, some of them reaching out their trunks again to touch Nandita’s face.

Sanjana alone remains by the fence. She wraps her trunk around Nandita’s, and the two of them talk in low grumbles. They separate, and Nandita’s mother gazes at the departing herd before she, too, turns to leave.

Nandita calls out and walks alongside her as far as the fence will allow, then watches as her family leaves her for the second time in her life.

Nandita has grown so much she won’t fit through the wooden gate anymore, so I run to the large metal gate, hoping that it isn’t locked. As always, though, it’s held closed with a padlock and a rusty chain wrapped around the fence post.

I hurry to the woodshed.
Where is the ax?
I kick the woodpile and toss aside logs. Quickly I search the area and see the ax handle sticking out from under a log.

Nandita has not moved from the spot where she watches the herd. I run to the fence.

I raise the ax high and chop at the fence post next to the gate. Wood chips fly away as I chop again and again. If I keep working, I know I can break through it to release the gate. Though my arms feel weak and tired, I hack at the fence some more.

Nandita watches me as I work. I think I’m getting close to breaking through the post. A few more chops should do it. I rest my hands on my knees and turn toward the forest. I can still see the elephant herd, but they grow smaller and smaller.

Again I raise the ax for another chop, then stop when I notice the chain. Not the one at the gate’s handle, but the one that shackles Nandita’s front legs. I drop the ax and slump to the ground.

Even if Nandita can get away from here, she cannot run free. She won’t be able to keep up with a herd in the wild, and what about when she grows? With no one to unlock the shackles and loosen them, they will cut into her legs as the years pass.

Then I think of my pocketknife. It has served me well for carvings, but I wonder if I could use it to pick the lock on the shackles. It wouldn’t be easy, but with time I think I could do it. I will let her out of the gate, then grab my bag and catch up with her to unlock her shackles.

Next to me, Nandita sways back and forth. This is her best chance to run away from here, and I cannot let it pass by. I stand and pick up the ax. Once again I raise it. This time something else stops me.

Sharad’s truck sputters to a halt at the fence behind the cook shed. What is he doing here?

Pieces of the fence post are chopped away, but the chain still holds the gate closed. And I am out of time.

“Go on, old friend,” I urge Nandita. “Look at what a strong elephant you are now.” I grab the fence and shake it, and push it open as far as the chain will allow. Nandita steps closer, and I pull the gate toward us, then push it back. When I pull the gate again, she places her forehead against it and pushes.

“Good girl, Nandita,” I say as I reach up to hug her. “Keep doing that, and you will have the forest again. Nothing is holding you here anymore.”

I look behind me at the empty cook shed. I wish Ne Min were here so I could tell him goodbye. It would be hard, though, and I wouldn’t know how to tell him how thankful I am for everything he has done for me. Maybe it is better this way. But if he were here, I think I know what he would say:
Nothing holds you here either. Go.

While Nandita pushes at the gate, I run to the stable. From underneath the straw I grab my Ganesh figure and Nandita’s, Chanda’s elephant box, and the bag Ne Min gave me, which still holds the iodine bottle. Last I remove Ne Min’s leaf from its nail on the stable wall. I stuff the carvings and the leaf into my bag as I hurry out of the stable.

On my way back to the fence, I see Sharad. Nandita still pushes on the gate with her head.

“Stop!” Sharad yells as he runs to her. In his right hand he holds the elephant hook. I drop my bag and run toward Nandita, but Sharad is much closer.

“Stop!” he shouts again. At the sound of his voice, Nandita turns to him. Sharad raises the hook. Nandita raises her trunk. The slap when she hits him is louder than the sound of his body crashing against the fence.

Sharad lies on the ground, not moving.

26

An elephant’s memory is longer than life and stronger than death.

—From
Care of Jungle Elephants
by Tin San Bo

Nandita trumpets and runs around, stepping close to Sharad’s body.

“Nandita, stop!” I yell. She nudges Sharad with her trunk. I walk up to her and place my hand on her forehead. She spins away from me with a roar, her trunk flailing. I grab on to the swinging chain around her neck and am able to calm her enough to guide her to the arena.

I run back to the fence to check on Sharad. His chest moves up and down as he breathes, but he still does not seem to be awake. I pace back and forth as I try to figure out what to do.

There is no way I can carry Sharad or even drag him indoors. From the stable I grab my blanket, then lay it flat on the ground next to him. With both hands I roll him onto the blanket. I look from the bleeding wound on Sharad’s forehead to Nandita. Should I help him now or work on the gate to set us free?

Maybe this is one of those times Baba talked about, when Ganesh puts obstacles in our way.

I take Baba’s stone from my pocket while I think. Ne Min told me there is goodness in Sharad, however buried it is.

I have a family to take care of.
I remember Sharad telling me.

I turn the stone over in my palm. I wish there were a way to save the good Sharad and leave the mean Sharad on the ground. But I can’t do that any more than I could throw aside the dark layers of my stone while hanging on to the light. If I run away from the Sharad who hurts Nandita, I also abandon the one who built a shelter for her, and the one who is the father of five children.

From the supply shed I grab a bottle of iodine and some cloth bandages, then run to the cook shed for a bowl. I hurry to the trough and scoop the bowl into the water before returning to Sharad’s side.

Nandita rocks herself back and forth in the arena. Her chain rattles as she bangs it against a fence post. I look toward the forest, to where the elephants have disappeared. Nandita wants to be with her family as much as I do. And they want her back, too.

“Sharad?” I kneel next to him and nudge his shoulder. He does not wake up. I wonder if Nandita will be punished for hurting him. Maybe Sharad will be thankful I helped him when he was hurt and won’t want her to get in trouble.

I pour a little of the water onto Sharad’s forehead, then blot the wound clean with a cloth. I turn the cloth over and soak it with iodine, then dab his head.

A spot of blood seeps through his pants near the knee. When I roll up the leg of his pants I see a small, round sore on his outer thigh. It looks just like a hook wound. The elephant hook rests in the dirt near the fence. He must have gouged himself when Nandita knocked him aside. I pour iodine on a new cloth and clean the wound again. Sharad moves his head to the side and groans.

Perhaps I am foolish for not running while I have the chance, but when I think of leaving right now, my stomach tightens like I’m doing something wrong. I can escape with Nandita later, after I know Sharad will be all right.

Sharad stirs and groans. His eyes flicker open.

“Sharad? I need to get you some help. Do you know where Ne Min lives?”

“I’ll be fine,” he says. He starts to sit up, then groans again and holds his head. After he lies back down, he points toward the cook shed. “You know the trail back there?”

“Yes, I know where to start,” I say.

“Follow it until it divides. The trail to the left leads to a small shack.”

“Can you hold this in place?” I lay Sharad’s hand on the bandage that covers his head wound. “Press down to slow the bleeding,” I say before I hurry to the wooden gate behind the cook shed and down the trail that leads to Ne Min’s home.

After I run for some time, I start to wonder if I could have passed the turn. I stop and look behind me and wish I’d picked up a lantern from the cook shed. The thickness of the trees here blocks out the last light of the evening. It would be easy to miss a break in the trail. But when I run a little farther I see the divided path ahead of me.

Down the trail to the left I run, then stop when I hear Nandita’s bell. But I chained her up in the arena—how could she be here? I look around and listen. Nandita is nowhere in sight. The bell rings again, and I realize I was wrong. It is not the same sound as Nandita’s bell—close, but it rings with a higher tone. I continue down the path.

There it is—a small wooden shack among the trees. The wind blows, and I hear the bell again. On the tree in front of me, next to the window of the home, a wooden bell hangs from a branch. When I get closer I see it is much like Nandita’s, but parts of it are black like coal and it is not as smooth. It looks like something I could have carved a few months ago.

I knock on the shack’s flimsy door and call to Ne Min. When he doesn’t answer I open the door.

I step into the only room of Ne Min’s home. An old wooden chair sits in one corner, and against the opposite wall is his cot, where he is sleeping right now. On a table next to his bed, I recognize the book I have seen him read, with pictures of elephants and handwriting of loops and circles.

I sit on the edge of Ne Min’s cot and light the lamp on the table.

“Ne Min?” I say as I gently shake his shoulder.

He does not wake up, so I try again. “Ne Min, please, it’s important.”

Ne Min wakes with a jolt, as if I’ve poured a tub of cold water on him.

“I’m sorry to wake you,” I tell him, “but Sharad is hurt. Can you come help?”

Ne Min sits up and looks around, then rubs his eyes. He takes my hand so I can help him up. As we walk out the door I tell him about Nandita hitting Sharad.

On the path that leads back to the circus grounds, Ne Min tells me to go ahead of him and sit with Sharad. He will catch up to me there.

By the time I return to Sharad the bandage on his head is soaked with blood. He looks away from me, then winces and squeezes his eyes shut when I press a clean bandage over the old one. We say nothing to each other while we wait for Ne Min.

When Ne Min arrives, he checks Sharad’s head wound and cleans it with more iodine. Sharad winces and tries to knock Ne Min’s hand away.

“Stop—that stings!” he says. “You’re hurting me worse than the elephant did.”

Ne Min stays calm and ignores the batting of Sharad’s hands. “We must keep the wound clean,” he says.

“It’s clean enough!” He starts to sit up, then curses and grabs his side that Nandita hit with her trunk.