Major John Harding settled down into the comfortable armchair beside the fireplace, as he swirled the fine scotch whiskey, before taking a swig of the golden liquid. His guest was the elegant Ms. Elizabeth, visiting her friends Major and Mrs. Brown.
The cheerful fire, crackled a merry song as it leapt and swayed while it eavesdropped on the conversation heading nowhere, wrapped in social propriety. It could see its own reflection in the hearts and minds of the host and guest but shackled by the prudity of the old-world British society.
“Would you like to go on a hunt with me tomorrow?” he asked.
“Could I? That would be charming!’” said she as her eyes widened with excitement, while John prepared to dive into them.
‘Thump! Thump! Thump!’ Heavy feet racing up the driveway could be heard, and there was a loud knock on the front door. ‘Knock! Knock! KNOCK!’ The desperation diffused in through the locked thick doors as the khansama, shuffled quickly to open the door.
The poor timing had John irritated, as he waited for the intruder to be reported. ‘Sahib! The chowkidar wants to speak to you. It is urgent.’ Politely excusing himself Major sahib walked to the front door while registering a soft thump from behind the locked doors of his bedroom. Must be Bruno he thought.
“Sahib, did anyone come in? We saw a person covered in a blanket run towards the bungalow.” The expression of anger in his faithful chowkidar’s eyes forced John to soothe the ruffled feathers, “ No! Koi nahi Ram Singh!”
“ I need to check Sahib!”
“No, no its alright! Bahadur is here. Don’t worry… and Bruno too!”
Not convinced, Ram Singh could do nothing but go back to the gate. John rushed back to the warmth of the fireplace and his companion. Elizabeth looked alluring by the golden light as she daintily sipped her wine. He was thrilled with this lucky interlude, in his solitary life, begging companionship.
After dinner, he drove Elizabeth back, finalizing the hunting expedition for the next day. He loved wild animals and was more inspired by Jim Corbett. He would watch them from vantage points, sketch a few quickly rather than shoot them down. Whistling to himself at the prospects of the following day, he walked into his house. As he retired for the night, he recalled his spectacles in the drawing room and so went to retrieve them. Reading a few pages before bed was his elixir.
There by the fireplace lay a heap. It didn’t belong there. What could it be? He went closer, and in the glow of the dying embers he reeled with disbelief! The same face…. Which had haunted his dreams for months, no years. The honey-coloured smooth skin, oozing the freshness of a life outdoors; the limpid pools of bewitching doe eyes, the strong jawline, hinting at the strong will in the heart it resided, the decorations of the tribe she belonged to. “Shiroo?… Is it you?”
“Oh Sahib! How you torment me! I came to thank you once more before I leave for ever. I also want you to have this… to remember me, to remember I am eternally grateful to you!” So, saying she took off her beaded necklace which had a skillfully crafted tiger head, in gold, embellished with two red rubies and a solitaire.
In a flash he travelled to the moment, he had spotted her first.
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It was a pretty dark night, but the jungle had fireflies, and patches of a starlit night sky where the canopy didn’t block it out. He was out on a hunting expedition. When suddenly strange sounds of a drumbeat, accompanied by sounds unidentifiable, broke the peace and silence. It drew him. What he saw froze his heart. By now his sight was well tuned to see in the dark. A child was being pulled and pushed by two burly men towards the top of the knoll. He followed them stealthily, keeping a good distance behind. Another burly man seemed to be waiting. Few others were standing slightly further. A mask was removed from the little figure’s head. As all drew around a fire, bravely trying to stay alight. The tongues of fire seemed to reach up loftily to see each face and commit it to memory. What was going on?
‘Nahi! I will not marry this fat old man!’ screamed a little girl of twelve or thirteen. Stunned, Lieutenant John ran up the remaining few metres, still keeping out of sight as he sized up the situation. Six burly men, one helpless teenager and he …Wait! He had his gun! But what if he could turn the tables using brains not brawn!
The drum fell silent. The men relaxed in the knowledge, they could force their might on a girl of thirteen, with no one to come to her aid. She too was wondering what she could do to cause as much damage before the inevitable! She wasn’t called ‘Wildcat’ for nothing. That’s when she spotted the gora sahib! Maybe she had some support, he was keeping quiet and out of sight! As she kneeled, she looked around for something to use as a weapon.
Meanwhile John picked up a rock and flung it to the opposite end of the clearing. Crrraaasshhh! The silence was disrupted! Startled, the men went running to the edge. Meanwhile John silently ran up to the girl. “Shhhhh! I am your friend! Dost! Dost!” he whispered as he grabbed her hand and ran off to the closest tree. The pounding of her heart could be felt by the leaves, trees and very earth.
In an instant her fate had changed. She had another chance to live. As they watched the confused men come back to the fire and start squabbling for having left the girl unguarded and thus letting her slip away, the Boss could be heard berating them. “What did you think? I will be happy and reward you? You fools …. You have turned my wedding night into a mourning!” “Sssssooory Sardar!” stammered their supervisor, who only got a resounding kick for opening his mouth. “Don’t show me your face till you locate my bride!”
They slunk away noiselessly. He took her home to her tribe. Enroute, he gathered she had been kidnapped to be wedded to the notorious robber in the area. Watching the family reunite was rewarding. As he was welcomed to the home of the chief, whose daughter she was, he first got a glimpse of who he had been a knight in shining armour to!
Honey coloured smooth skin, oozing the freshness of a life outdoors; limpid pools of bewitching doe eyes, a strong jawline hinting a strong headed tigress! Her hair was braided, and the decorative marks of the tribe drew attention to the perfect symmetry and beauty of this little Goddess! As their eyes met there were sparks, besides the embers flying from the fireplace, which seemed warmer than the hearth. He knew better than to linger on, and she was merely a child. Assuring him that he was always welcome to the tribe; he was sent off with baskets full of gifts!
As he looked up to speak, he realised she had vanished. Only her necklace was proof she had ever been in the room.
That night he could barely sleep. He kept tossing and turning. Images of the dark forests, Tongues of flame, running away from pursuers, and dark smiling eyes, wouldn’t let him sleep. In the wee hours of the morning, as the sun pushed aside the drapes of the dark night, waking up little birds in their nests, sending clouds scurrying across the horizon, sleep quietly tiptoed into his home, his room, his eyes.
Bahadur finally got him his morning tea and the newspapers. The blaring headline was, ‘Debauched contractor murdered in bed!’ The story went on to unfold about a contractor in the area who had been breaking all the local protocols as he gave in to eve teasing, molestation, and womanizing. A mysterious Robin Hood had taken revenge.
Slowly he smiled, and then rolled with laughter.
He forgot all about the hunting.
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Sitting around the campfire, the elegant Colonel John Harding commanded the attention of his junior companions. ‘That’s some story Sir!’ said Major Havisham. ‘If I hadn’t heard it straight from the horse’s mouth, I wouldn’t believe it!’ piped in Captain Timothy Fletcher. “Well, fact is stranger than fiction!” said John as he went on to savour his drink. “What’s going on Darling?” said a sweet voice haltingly, as the woman came into visibility, throwing her honey-coloured arms around John, giving him a warm hug. The limpid black pools of her eyes were mesmerizing in the glow of the fire. And the eyes of the young officers seemed to be spellbound by the beaded necklace she wore, which had a skillfully crafted tiger head, in gold, embellished with two red rubies and a solitaire!
Picture courtesy the Internet for representation purpose only.
