Chained (8 page)

With one hand I hold the stone in my pocket, and with the other I knock softly on the open door.

Timir spins his chair to face me. “Good, I was about to call you.”

I step through the doorway. From behind his desk he picks up a folded blanket. I catch it when he throws it to me, and I run my hands over the fabric. It’s not very soft, but it will be more comfortable than the bed of straw in the stable. Now I’ll be able to lie down on one blanket and cover up with another. On cold nights I will wrap myself up like a caterpillar in a cocoon.

“Thank you,” I say to Timir. “I have been wanting an extra blanket. And it’s huge!”

“It’s for the elephant, idiot,” he says. “Make sure she stays covered during the night. And when she gets hungry, you will find the powdered milk and the bottles in the cook shed.”

“How will I know when she’s hungry if I am sleeping?” I ask.

“She’ll let you know.”

I try to picture myself feeding a bottle of milk to an elephant. While I’m wondering if Nandita will stand in place long enough to drink a bottle of milk, I realize Timir is still giving me instructions.

“… twice a day. There’s a shovel and a pitchfork in the stable.”

Pitchfork? Do what twice a day?
I’m afraid to ask. I will have to figure it out later.

“Whenever Sharad brings in a truckload of new hay, stack the bales next to the stable. You can use the wheelbarrow to move them. The metal bucket hanging on the trough is for hauling in water from the spring. When the trough is empty, fill it again.”

Through the office window I glance at the water trough. In my head I try to count how many trips to the spring and back it will take to fill it. I wonder how fast Nandita will empty it.

“Give her a bath in the spring every evening,” Timir continues. “Keep hold of her chain when you lead her around. We can’t have her wandering like she’s free to go where she wants. She needs to know you’re in charge. I think that’s enough instructions for now. Any questions?”

Yes, a thousand.
I do not dare ask anything else.

“All right, then,” Timir says. “You’ve had it easy so far, with no elephant here. It is time to end this vacation of yours and start working off your family’s debt to me.”

Start?
In my mind I scratch out the seven marks on the stable wall I thought I had earned.

“Now get to work,” Timir says.

It takes five trips to the spring to fill the water trough. I head back to the arena, where Sharad is leading Nandita around, holding her chain close. He pulls the chain back when she tries to run from him.

*   *   *

After washing the lunch dishes, Ne Min hands me a glass bottle about the size of my arm, filled with milk. “The elephant will be ready for lunch, too,” he says.

“Don’t take too long,” Sharad says when he sees me approaching the arena with the milk. “She needs to get back to work.” He pulls a cloth from his pocket to wipe the sweat from his face, then leaves me alone with Nandita.

She notices the milk as soon as I open the gate. She reaches for the bottle, but I pull back in time to hang on to it.

The rubber top of the bottle looks like part of a cow’s udder, so I hold it over Nandita’s head for her to drink as she would from her mother. She grabs the bottle with her trunk. The milk dribbles onto the ground as she tries to feed herself. She spins away when I try to take it back. I chase her around the arena, hoping to get her to drink the milk before it all spills. I wonder if it will be this exhausting to feed her every time.

I lead her out of the arena, through the trees and toward the stable to let her get some hay and water. When Nandita dashes toward the trough, I fall to the ground and the chain slips from my hand. She fills her trunk with as much water as it takes me to collect in one trip to the spring. She pours some of the water into her mouth, but saves some to spray onto her back and at me.

“You’ll have more water for drinking if you stop playing around with it!” I watch the water sink into the ground.

But Nandita doesn’t seem to know I am scolding her. For a moment, I catch a glimpse of that smile she always wore in the forest.

I grip her chain tightly when it’s time to lead her back to the arena, but Nandita runs toward the trees, dragging me behind her. She stops and reaches for a mango branch, but I jump up in time to grab the fruit first. Nandita squeaks and reaches for the mango with her trunk.

“Not so fast,” I tell her as I back away. “You’re going to have to follow me to get this.”

We walk to the arena, Nandita bumping into me the whole way while trying to take the mango. I keep it close to my chest and I turn away whenever she reaches for it. Finally we make it through the arena gate, and I hold out the mango. Nandita snatches it from my hand and runs across the arena before dropping it into her mouth. She swings her trunk and calls out a trumpet sound.

“You’re welcome,” I say, and slump against the fence to catch my breath.

*   *   *

When I put Nandita in the stable for the night, I decide to go to bed, too. Before I fall asleep, I take out my pocketknife. I pick out a new log and stab the knife into it, marking my first day of work that matters.

I’m so tired, the bed of straw feels almost comfortable. I have never been so tired. Nandita is not so sleepy. She groans as she paces around the stable and bangs the walls with her trunk. I try to ignore her, but she grabs my blanket with her trunk and walks away.

“Nandita, please,” I beg her, “go to sleep.” I stand and pick up her blanket. Every time I try to cover her, she walks away from me. I give up and sit on the straw, leaning against the wooden logs that make up the stable walls. Every time I doze off, Nandita’s cries and flinging trunk wake me.

“You are more annoying than a camel!” I tell her.

At last she grows tired, too, and lies down. I cover her with the blanket, then collapse onto the straw.

“Good night, Nandita.”

I dream that I am so confused about how to care for Nandita that I shovel out the river and fill the water trough with hay. Then I dream that Chanda is a new baby again, crying on her blanket.

“She is hungry, Hastin,”
my mother says.
“Bring her to me.”
When I reach to pick up Chanda, she is gone, but I still hear her cries. Somehow I end up in the forest. Behind the river rocks and in the branches of the great banyan tree I search for her. I lift the broad green leaves of the plants on the ground, but Chanda is not there. I spin in circles, not knowing where to look next. My search becomes more frantic as Chanda’s hungry cries grow louder. But how can I hear her crying when she is so far away?

I pry my eyes open to ask Amma for help. In the darkness I look around to figure out where I am. The straw crunches under Nandita’s feet as she paces. She cries out and bangs the walls of the stable with her trunk.

“Nandita, are you hungry?” I pull myself up, then pet her on the head to calm her down. The bristles of hair tickle my palm. She stops pacing, but still I hear the cries from my dream.

I run to the cook shed and hope I can figure out how to prepare a bottle of milk. After I light the lantern I find a pail of water and a burlap bag of powdered milk on the counter. Next to the bag is the big glass bottle, over half full with water. Now, how much dry milk to put in? When I pick up a metal cup next to the bottle, I notice it’s already full of powdered milk. Silently I thank Ne Min. He must have measured everything out for me before he left.

I remove the rubber top of the bottle and pour in the powder. After I replace the top, I squeeze the end of it closed and shake the bottle back and forth to mix the powdered milk and water together.

As fast as I can I race back to the stable.

“Here, Nandita.” I hold out the bottle. “Drink your milk, then let’s get back to sleep.”

I grip the bottle tightly, but Nandita’s able to steal it from me again. Milk spills onto the straw as she tries to place the bottle in her mouth with her trunk. She lets out a squeaky cry when I take the milk from her, but quiets down once it’s in her mouth. With a few loud gulps, she empties the bottle. There is no telling how much she really drank. Milk covers her face and my own arms. Between that and what spilled on the ground, I hope she has had enough to keep her quiet for the rest of the night.

I do not bother cleaning up. Nandita lies down and I cover her with her blanket.

On my bed of straw I close my eyes and think about Raj. If Chanda isn’t home, there is no one to feed him. Maybe he’s moved on to another village, or he’s looking for food in the desert. Does he wonder where I am? I hope he doesn’t think I abandoned him. I wonder about Nandita’s family, too. They must have thought about her when they passed by the trap this evening.

I feel like I have not been asleep long before I am awakened again, this time by Nandita’s scream—a scream so full of fright, I am sure there must be a tiger right outside the stable door. I jump up from the bed of straw and light my lantern, then scan the stable for what could have harmed her. The light that sweeps across her face shows me she is asleep.

I remember Chanda wanting me to hold her hand after a nightmare. The bad dreams stayed away then. On a nail overhead I hang the lantern and move my blanket closer to Nandita. I lean back against the stable wall and rest my hand on her back.

Her cries quiet, but her breathing is quick, as if she is still afraid. I stay awake until the up-and-down waves of her sides slow enough to let me know the nightmares are gone for now.

13

Elephants have strong attachments to their family members.

—From
Care of Jungle Elephants
by Tin San Bo

I wake up to the smell of elephant dung and sour milk. Somehow during the night I ended up facedown in the straw. Nandita paces around the stable. After I stand up and stretch I lean against the wall of the stable and close my eyes. Already I know I will spend the day counting the hours until bedtime.

“I’ll be back with your breakfast. Be good,” I tell Nandita as I pet her trunk. She tries to follow me out of the stable, so I crack the door open just enough to slip out.

Empty milk bottle in hand, I walk to the cook shed as I pick straw off my clothes and face. Ne Min is already preparing breakfast. He looks up from the dough he is mixing and smiles.

“You look like an old man, like me,” he says. “She will not always keep you awake at night. It will take time. She is afraid. An elephant her age, she needs her mother.”

“Do they have dreams?” I ask. “Elephants, I mean. Do they dream?”

“They dream, and they remember.”

I grab the water tub. “Thank you for measuring the dry milk for me. I would not have known what to do.”

“That young, she is still looking for her mother to give her milk. She will grow tired of hay. Pick some fruit and leaves for her, and you will have a friend for life.” He takes the empty milk bottle from me and sets it in the tub. “Fill this up while you’re at the spring.”

When I return with the water, I place the tub on the wood-burning stove to boil, then mix a new bottle of milk for Nandita. This time when I feed her in the stable, I’m able to hang on to the bottle and place the end of it into her mouth. I take her outside so she can eat some hay and drink from the trough. Then I return her to the stable and go back to the cook shed to help Ne Min.

We shape pieces of roti dough into balls between our palms, then place them on the flour-covered countertop. With just a few rolls of the rolling pin, Ne Min makes perfect circles of dough, but mine turn out wobbly and uneven.

“It takes practice,” he assures me.

Ne Min cooks the roti with a few drops of oil instead of on a dry pan, so it is crispy instead of soft like the roti I’m used to.

When it’s time to season the pot of beans on the stove, I uncap the spice jars Ne Min points to and hand them to him, then he sprinkles in a bit from each one. A dash of turmeric whirls bright orange in the liquid. The dark brown powder in one jar burns my nose as soon as I remove the lid. Ne Min drops the smallest pinch of this spice to the pot. Then he stirs in something that adds both sweetness and sourness to the air.

Timir and Sharad enter the cook shed just as I finish setting the table. Only the four of us are here now—since Timir has his elephant, he doesn’t need the other workers any longer.

When the water boils, I remove the tub from the stove and place it on the floor. By the time we finish eating, the water will be cool enough for washing dishes. I am in such a hurry to get to the table that I set the pot down too quickly. My skin turns red where the water splashes onto my wrist. But I am so hungry I ignore the stinging pain.

At the table, my roti is halfway to my mouth when I notice Timir’s glare.

The day just started. What could I have done wrong already?

“What do you think you’re doing?” Timir says.

Eating breakfast, you dung beetle,
I want to say. But I have learned when Timir asks me a question he does not really want me to answer.

“You’ve fed the elephant?” he says.

“Yes,” I answer.

“And cleaned the stable?” he continues. “The water trough—it’s full?” Each question is louder than the last one.

I set down my bread and keep my eyes on my plate.

“Have you not listened to anything I’ve told you, or are you just too stupid to figure out what to do?”

That is another question I don’t know how to answer, so I take my plate to the counter and leave the cook shed.

Holding Nandita’s chain, I lead her through the trees to the arena for her training with Sharad.

I realize now that the pitchfork and shovel Timir mentioned in his instructions yesterday are for cleaning out the stable. With a wheelbarrow, I haul the dirty straw far into the trees so the smell won’t bother anyone. I grab fresh straw that’s next to the trough and carry it to the stable.

When I see Timir enter his office, I return to the cook shed to help Ne Min clean up after breakfast.

“No, you need to eat,” he says when I pick up a dish to wash.