Chained (9 page)

“But Timir said—”

Ne Min waves a hand like he’s swatting a fly. “Timir is busy in his office now. Your plate is on the stove.”

I don’t like leaving the dishes for Ne Min, but my stomach rumbles at the smell of breakfast that still hangs in the air.

“I suppose I’ll work better after a good meal.”

Ne Min smiles.

With a white cloth I grab the hot edge of the plate and carry it to the table. The circle of roti wobbles on a hill of onions and beans. My plate is fuller than it was before.

“Did you get enough to eat?” I ask Ne Min.

He doesn’t look up from the dishes he’s washing. “We all had plenty, Hastin.”

I hope he’s telling the truth, but I don’t remember there being leftovers after we filled the plates at breakfast. Sometimes at home I saw mothers and fathers give up food from their own plates if their children were still hungry after dinner. So it’s not only the cook shed that makes me feel more at home, but Ne Min, too.

I try to be polite and eat my food slowly, but I’m so hungry that it disappears from my plate as fast as water into Nandita’s trunk. Ne Min laughs when I bring my empty plate to the water tub so soon after I sat down.

All I want to do after that big meal is lie down for a nap, but I have to get back to work. I cut enough firewood to carry two armloads to the cook shed.

I make several trips to the spring to fill Nandita’s trough and the water tub for Ne Min, then it’s time to start preparing lunch.

*   *   *

That evening after dinner I unlatch Nandita’s chain from the post in the arena to lead her to the spring for her bath.

“Take this with you,” Ne Min says as we pass the cook shed. He hands me a coconut husk.

“What do I do with this?” I ask.

“It’s for her bath. That rough skin, it’s uncomfortable. Scrub her with this to get rid of the dry skin. But be gentle with her spine.” He touches the bony part of my back.

This time I use both hands to hold Nandita’s chain, but it slides out of my grasp when she dashes ahead of me. I chase after her and dive for the chain as it bounces along the ground. I’m able to grab hold of it, but Nandita keeps running, dragging me behind her. She charges into a clump of bamboo. The stalks smack me in the face with a
thwack-thwack-thwack
until Nandita stops to eat.

I push myself off the ground and lean against Nandita until she decides she’s had her fill of bamboo. When we reach the water’s edge she dips her trunk in the spring, then pours the water into her mouth. She sprays the cool water over her back, soaking me just as much as herself. I’m laughing too much to scold her. The water rushes over her body when she lies down in the spring. I scrub her with the coconut husk. A mosquito lands on Nandita’s back, and I leap out of the way as she swats it with her trunk.

I pretend I’m a jungle boy, stopping to rest with my elephant on our journey into the wild.
On the back of my elephant I ride through the jungle. We can travel as far as we want and even climb mountains. In the heat of the day we swim in a cool river …

When Nandita turns over in the water, the rattle of the chain snaps me out of my daydream, and I remember where we are. Not in a jungle home, or any home at all.

14

During the elephant’s bath, one should look for wounds or sores that need attention.

—From
Care of Jungle Elephants
by Tin San Bo

Through the clear rippling water of the spring I notice the spot of deep red.

Nandita still lies on her side in the water. When she flaps her ear forward I see what I missed when I scrubbed her. To get a closer look I wade into the water, but she rolls herself to standing and moves away. When I catch up to her I try to hold her and ease her ear forward. She spins around and slaps me on the legs with her trunk. But I had enough time to glimpse the wound. The sore is larger than any insect bite I have ever seen, and deeper.

I grab her chain. “Come on, Nandita, let’s get you some help.”

As soon as we leave the water, Nandita rolls in a patch of dirt and uses her trunk to spray dust over her back. She looks dirtier than she did before her bath.

Sharad is putting away his equipment in the supply shed when we approach him. “She’s hurt,” I say. He hardly glances up when I point to Nandita’s wound.

“She’s fine,” he says.

“But—it looks really bad. Should I put something on it? Some medicine?”

“She’s just started her training. She’ll catch on soon enough.”

He is not making any sense. How her training could have anything to do with the sore behind her ear, I don’t know.

“Think about it,” he says. “You think she can feel anything through that thick skin?”

She felt the mosquito.

I give up on Sharad and lead Nandita to the stable. Through the gaps in the wood I see Ne Min walking toward the small wooden gate I now know leads to the trail to his home. I’m not sure how he knows so much about elephants, but I am thankful to have him to talk to.

I run out of the stable to catch up with Ne Min. “The elephant is hurt,” I call to him. “I don’t know what happened.” He turns and hurries to me.

We enter the stable together and see Nandita resting on the straw. Ne Min kneels down next to her. He holds Nandita’s trunk in his hand and blows into the end of it. Softly he speaks to her in a language I do not understand. Nandita flaps her ear forward and shows him the wound.

“Tah,”
he says as he pats Nandita’s side. She stands up. “Good girl.” He brushes his hand along her trunk then reaches for my hand.

“How did you learn to speak elephant?” I ask as I help him stand.

Ne Min laughs. “It’s Burmese.”

“Then how did an Indian elephant learn Burmese?”

“She does not understand the words, but she understands me,” he says. “Approach them with respect, and without fear, and they will know what you ask of them.” He examines the wound again, then looks away. He winces as if Nandita’s injury is his own. Ne Min doesn’t just know about elephants, he cares about them.

“Go to the supply shed,” he says. “Get the bottle of iodine—the big brown bottle. Also the insect repellent. Then, from the cook shed, some sugar.”

“Sugar?”

He nods and turns back to Nandita.

The heavy wooden doors of the supply shed creak open when I pull the handles. My eyes need a moment to adjust to the darkness in the depths of the shed. Shelves filled with boxes, glass jars, and bottles line the three walls, from the ground to the ceiling. I look at several of the brown bottles to figure out which one might be what Ne Min asked for.

I grab a cloth, insect repellent, and what I hope is iodine, then head to the cook shed. From a cabinet I take the burlap bag of sugar and place it in the crook of my arm. When I return to the stable, Ne Min is still talking to Nandita and petting her trunk. I kneel down to let the supplies fall onto the straw.

Ne Min smiles when he sees the bag of sugar. “Just a little next time. Enough to fill a spoon.” He glances at the brown bottle. “Hand me the iodine first, and the cloth.”

The white cloth turns reddish brown when he pours some liquid from the bottle.

“Clean the wound twice a day,” he says as he works. “Whenever she is injured, take her to a quiet dark place—like this—to treat her.” He caps the bottle of iodine and hands it back to me. “After the iodine, a little sugar.”

I open the top of the bag, then tilt it just enough to pour some sugar into my hand. I don’t want to invite any ants to spend the night with us in the stable. Ne Min nods when I look up at him to see if I have enough. He takes the sugar from my palm and sprinkles it onto Nandita’s wound.

“Last, the bug repellent,” he says, “to keep the ants away from the sugar, and the flies from laying eggs in the wound.”

I cannot believe Nandita stands still for all of this. I hand Ne Min the bottle of insect repellent, which he pours onto Nandita’s injury.

“So now you know where to find everything, and how to take care of the sore when it happens again?” he asks.

I nod. “But you think she will get this again?”

“I had hoped not, but I am afraid she will. Many times.”

“How did it happen?” I ask, even though I’m afraid to hear the answer that part of me already knows.

“It was the hook,” he says. “You have seen the shape of its point, and the shape and depth of her wounds. If you are going to take care of her, and keep her safe—” He looks away. “Sometimes you’ll have to see things you don’t want to see.”

The straw crunches when Nandita lies down again.

“What do you call her?” Ne Min asks.

“Nandita,” I say.

He looks at her face. “Not so joyful,” he says.

“She was when I named her. See how it looks like she’s smiling?”

The old man and the elephant stare at each other. “Her eyes are sad,” he says.

So are yours,
I want to say.

He takes Nandita’s trunk and holds it out to me. “Here, blow into the end of her trunk.”

“Why would I do that?” I ask.

“To help her remember who you are. Their sense of smell is strongly tied to their memory.”

I do as Ne Min says. He pats Nandita on the back, and she rolls to her side.

“How do you know so much about them?” I ask.

“I am old. I know everything.” Ne Min collects the supplies and leaves the stable.

*   *   *

The next day, after I lead Nandita to the arena, she tries to follow me out when I leave.

“No, you have to stay here,” I tell her as I pet her head. “I’ll be back later.” She reaches her trunk across the fence to touch my face. I hate turning away from her, but we both have work to do.

I’m chopping wood when I hear voices coming from the arena. Sharad is working with Nandita, but I recognize Ne Min’s voice, too. He is talking louder than he usually does.

“You know there are better ways,” he says.

“Like my father’s ways?” says Sharad.

“Yes.”

“A lot of good that did him.”

“That had nothing to do with it,” says Ne Min. “What would he think if he could see you now?”

After a long silence Sharad answers, “But he can’t.”

*   *   *

Twice a day I treat the wound behind Nandita’s ear, and a few days later a new one like it appears on her back. The next day as I work I try to find a way to watch Nandita’s training and see for myself how Sharad is treating her. I clean the stables, help Ne Min, and paint Timir’s office while Sharad works with her. When I carry the water to the cook shed or fill the trough I glance toward the arena, but too many trees stand in the way for me to see what’s going on.

While I am in the supply shed, I hear Timir calling me. Maybe if I stay here long enough he’ll think I’ve gone to the spring for water. My heart races. The smooth stone from Baba gives me some comfort while I hide behind some burlap rice bags. When Timir quiets, I crack the door just enough to glance around, then slip out.

One of the trees next to the arena is a tamarind tree, thick with leaves and fruit. If I can climb it, the leaves will hide me from anyone’s view. I start to run to the tree, then freeze when Timir sees me. He leans against the arena fence, where he watches Sharad and Nandita. She has her side turned to Timir, but she keeps one eye on him. I’ve noticed that Nandita stiffens as if she’s afraid when she sees Timir or hears his voice.

“Where have you been?” he asks me. “My office needs another coat of paint.”

I trudge to Timir’s office and pick up the paint can and brush. I’m painting the side of the office when I hear Nandita scream. It is the scream of her nightmare, but worse—sharper. The trees behind me block my view, so I drop the paintbrush and run to Nandita. As I get closer I see that she’s running in circles around the arena. Timir’s glare stops me. He points toward his office, and I back away.

The next day the hours creep by even though my chores keep me busy. Just before it’s time to help Ne Min with dinner, I look around for Timir. I creep closer to his office. He must be at his desk—I do not dare peek in to check, but I hear grumbling and the shuffling of papers.

I head to the arena and climb to a strong branch of the tamarind tree. I peek through the limbs of the tree to watch Nandita’s training. Sharad orders her to walk through a large hoop he holds.

What a stupid trick. No wonder she doesn’t want to do it. When Sharad turns, I see the hook in his right hand. I lean closer to get a better look. It seems like Nandita might actually walk through the hoop. She steps forward and lifts a foot.

“That’s it—good girl,” says Sharad.

Then Nandita spins around, away from the hoop, and slaps Sharad on the bottom with her trunk. I cover my mouth so Sharad won’t hear me laugh.

He throws the hoop down. It circles and wobbles before resting on the ground.

Nandita backs away from Sharad when he raises his arm. Then the hook slices the air and punctures Nandita’s skin. She screams.

My hands cover my ears and I squeeze my eyes shut.

I do not know how long I sit in the tree. When I finally look up, Sharad has left. Nandita rocks back and forth while chained to her post. I want to comfort her, but when I scale down the tree I run straight to the cook shed. Certainly I am late in helping Ne Min prepare dinner, but I don’t care about that right now.

Ne Min stands at the stove with his back to me.

“I saw him,” I say. Ne Min turns around. “Sharad. I saw how he trains her. I know you told me, but it was different, seeing him…” My voice feels stuck in my throat.

Ne Min joins me across the room and squeezes my shoulder. “There is goodness in Sharad,” he says. He holds up his hand when I start to protest. “You do not believe me because you have not seen it. He has kept it buried for so long, maybe he has forgotten about it himself. But I believe it is still there. The best hope for Nandita is that Sharad will find that goodness back.”

My anger, still fresh as Nandita’s new wound, does not let me see any goodness in Sharad, buried or not. Ne Min is wrong about this.

15

Dry grasses are easy to keep and long lasting, but will not provide enough nutrition if used as the only food source.