By Savitri Narayanan
“Please save him, doctor! Save my Batok!”
The veterinary surgeon had examined the German shepherd at length. He leaned back in his chair and turned to Raikar, “The injury is bad,” he said, “What happened?”
“Doctor, please,” Raikar pleaded, his voice wet with anguish, “Save my Batok!”
The vet glanced at the injury on the dog’s neck. There were fang marks, the spots where the pointed teeth had pierced the blood vessel in the neck. The blood circulation and hence the oxygen supply to the brain was decreasing and the dog was on its way out. It was more than a decade now that he had been serving as the veterinary surgeon at the local health outpost in Chineri. Dr. Mishra had not come across this kind of injury before.
“Was it a tiger?”
“Yes doctor, a tiger it was. A tiger cub,” said Raikar.
In response to the doctor’s questions, Raikar described the incidents of the morning, and the scene bounced back to his mind.
It was a typical morning at Raikar’s home. The cottage was built there by his father decades ago, in a clearing close to the Bandhavgarh Tiger Reserve near Bhopal. The dawn was lingering around the corner, all set to step in. The air turned vibrant with the sounds of chirping birds. There was an air of familiarity as if they were exchanging news with each other.
As he walked into the kitchen, Raikar thought, ‘Who else is there to talk to?’
He switched on the light and proceeded to make tea.
For Raikar, the small house in that clearing was home. That’s where he and his elder brother Umesh grew up under their father’s care. Their mother had succumbed to some illness when Raikar was still a toddler. Apart from Papaji’s mention, once in a while, Raikar had no lingering memories of his mother. At home it was himself, Pitaji and Umesh – just the three of them. It was a small settlement at Kesarbaug, just outside the tiger reserve, in the outskirts of Bhopal.
Raikar’s earliest memories had Pitaji going out to collect wood which he would carry to the weekly market at Kesarbaug. Both the boys too would escort him and soon learnt to collect and sell wood at Chineri market. Next to his father’s, Raikar too marked his spot and stacked his wood for sale. Umesh, on the other hand, migrated to the city and stayed there. Rarely did they meet in person but kept track of each other through a common friend or acquaintance.
Over the years, Raikar had got used to living on his own and fending for himself. Pitaji had lived to be quite old before he too became a memory. One morning Raikar was wondering why his father was still asleep though rather later than usual. On looking closer, Raikar was shocked to realise how the body had grown cold and Pitaji wasn’t breathing anymore. As the days added to weeks and months, Raikar got accustomed to Pitaji’s absence. There were just two of them – Batok, his German Shepherd, and himself! Between them, they had a close companionship and a rare ability to sense each other’s thoughts and needs.
‘Apart from the birds and squirrels, who else is there to talk to,’ thought Raikar as he added sugar and stirred the tea. Then with the teacup he walked out of the kitchen.
Batok was there at his usual spot on the verandah. As Raikar settled down on the chair and sipped his tea, the German Shephard snuggled closer to his master’s feet.
The air turned noisier as the birds chirped away merrily. The eastern sky turned slightly golden as the sun got ready to make its appearance.
“Work to do, Batok,” said Raikar as he put down the empty teacup and got up. Over the years he had learnt that the golden rule to be followed was, ‘The earlier the better.’ Collecting the wood was much easier when the sun was lower in the eastern horizon. Once the day turned warm, even small amounts of work gave rise to sweat and he got tired faster.
‘Here we go,’ he smiled as he walked with Batok towards the forest.
He was in for a surprise. Raikar couldn’t believe his eyes as he noticed the tiger. There it was, gloriously silhouetted against the thick green undergrowth! Evidently, the tiger cub had wandered out from the jungle. Naturally, it was delighted to notice Raikar there and started stalking the prey. Raikar, on his part, was scared stiff. Never before had he come face to face with a tiger. Frozen with fear, barely breathing, Raikar stood still!
The tiger cub on its part stalked instinctively, aiming at Raikar.
Unlike Raikar who froze in fear, Batok was quick-thinking and quick-acting! The unflinching canine loyalty left him with no option other than pouncing on the tiger, as if he were but a kitten! Sure, the tiger cub was startled and instinctively fought back. As if in a dream, Raikar saw the tiger cub sink its canines into the dog’s neck repeatedly. With all the determination of a German Shepherd, Batok stood his ground, fought back. The tiger cub was puzzled at this unusual behaviour of a harmless dog. Rather perplexed and bored, he retreated to the jungle.
Batok was left bleeding from his injuries. The tiger cub’s fangs must have penetrated his neck. The nearest vet was in Chineri, about 20 kilometres away. Raikar lost no time in finding the way to the veterinary clinic.
“Save him, doctor,” Raikar pleaded again, “Batok saved my life.”
But the tiger cub’s fangs had gone deep into the flesh of Batok’s neck and irreparable damage had been done.
“Never before have I seen a dog as brave and loyal as your German Shepherd,” said the veterinary surgeon. “To guard his master, see the way he stood his ground against a tiger!”
(Savitri Narayanan is a retired educationist at present in Goa. A mother and grandmother, loves readig, writing and travelling.)
