Tiger's Curse Page 6

  blanket and novel to read. Sometimes, I’d pick out a poem from the little poem book I’d brought with me and read it out loud. Other times, I just talked to him.

  One afternoon, I sat, sharpened my drawing pencils, and talked to the tiger. “Well, Dhiren, you might be

  wondering why I like Shakespeare and poetry so much. My favorite teacher in high school was Ms.

  Mitchell, who taught Shakespeare. She let the students vote to pick which plays we would study, and, because we only did one play per quarter, we got to study them really, really well. We followed along with the text as we listened to the plays on audiotape, which made them easier to understand.”

  I doodled on a piece of paper as I went on. “I remember watching Ms. Mitchell as we listened. She would laugh at different lines, and, for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why. I wanted to be in on the joke, so I studied pretty hard and finally figured out many, if not all, of the jokes and ended up with A’s all four quarters. I’ve loved Shakespeare ever since.

  “You know what I hate, though? Biology. It’s the worst science ever! In middle school, I made careful plans so I wouldn’t be in biology class during the frog dissection. I made a deal with the librarian, who I helped during my free period. I told her that there was no reason thatshe needed to put all those books on the shelves, not when I could make myself available to her. I told her we weren’t doing anything important that day in science, and, if she signed my waiver, I could present it to my teacher and assist her

  during biology class. It worked like a charm.

  “Then, in high school, we had to sign up for three science classes. I picked chemistry, Earth science, and

  physical science. I’ve avoided animal dissection my entire scholastic career. I’m sure you aren’t a fan of animal dissection either. I’m sure you’d think it was pretty clever of me. I can see you’re nodding off. I don’t blame you. Science is very boring for me too.”

  I kept drawing quietly and let the tiger sleep.

  About a week after I had started working there, I was watching one of the shows. When it was time for Dhiren to come out to perform, he seemed to act differently. After trotting down the tunnel and entering the cage, he ran around in circles and paced back and forth several times. He kept looking out at the audience as if searching for something. Finally, he sat and looked right at the place where Matt and I were sitting. He froze as still as a statue and was looking right at…me. His tiger eyes locked with mine, and I couldn’t turn my head away.

  I heard the whip crack several times, but the tiger stayed focused on me. Matt elbowed me, and I broke the eye contact.

  “That’s really strange,” Matt said.

  I asked him, “What’s wrong? What’s going on? Why is he looking at us?”

  He shrugged. “It’s never happened before. I don’t know.”

  Ren finally turned away from us and began his normal routine. After the show was over and I had finished cleaning up, I went to visit Dhiren, who was pacing in his cage. When he saw me, he sat down, settled himself, and placed his head on his paws. I walked up to the cage. “Hey, Ren. What’s goin’ on with you today, Mister? I’m worried about you. I hope you aren’t getting sick or something.”

  He rested quietly, but kept his eyes on me and followed my movements. I approached the cage slowly. I felt drawn to the animal and couldn’t seem to block out a very strong, dangerous compulsion; it was almost a tangible pull. Maybe it was because I felt we were both lonely or maybe it was because he was such a beautiful creature. I don’t know the reason, but I wanted, Ineeded , to touch him.

  I knew it was risky, but I wasn’t scared. Somehow, Iknew that he wouldn’t hurt me, so I ignored the red-alert bells dinging in my head. My heart began beating very fast. I took another step closer to the cage and stood there for a moment, shaking. Ren wasn’t moving at all. He just continued to look at me calmly with his vivid blue eyes.

  I slowly reached my hand out toward the cage, stretching just my fingertips to his paw. I made contact and touched his soft, white fur with the tips of my fingers. He exhaled a deep sigh, but other than that he didn’t move. I got a little bit braver and placed my whole hand on top of his paw, petted it, and traced one of his stripes with my finger. The next thing I knew, his head moved toward my hand. Before I could

  pull my hand out of the cage, he licked it. It tickled.

  I withdrew my hand quickly. “Ren! You scared me! I thought you were going to bite off my fingers!” I tentatively held out my hand near the cage again, and his pink tongue darted out between the bars to lick my hand. I let him lick a few more times, then headed over to the sink and washed the tiger saliva off.

  Returning to my favorite spot by the hay bale, I said, “Thanks for not eating me.”

  He huffed quietly in response.

  “Okay…what would you like to read today? How about that cat poem I promised you?” I sat down, opened my poetry book, and found the right page. “Okay, here goes…

  I am the cat

  by Leila Usher

  In Egypt, they worshiped me

  I am the Cat.

  Because I bend not to the will of man

  They call me a mystery.

  When I catch and play with a mouse,

  They call me cruel,

  Yet they take animals to keep

  In parks and zoos, that they may gape at them.

  They think all animals are made for their pleasure,

  To be their slaves.

  And, while I kill only for my needs,

  They kill for pleasure, power and gold,

  And then pretend to a superiority!

  Why should I love them?

  I, the Cat, whose ancestors

  Proudly trod the jungle,

  Not one ever tamed by man.

  Ah, do they know

  That the same immortal hand

  That gave them breath, gave breath to me?

  But I alone am free

  I am the cat

  I closed my book and gazed reflectively at the tiger. I imagined him proud and noble, racing through the jungle on a hunt. I suddenly felt very, very sorry about his situation.It can’t be a good life, performing in a

  circus, even if you have a good trainer. A tiger isn’t a dog or a cat to be somebody’s pet. He should be free in the wild.

  I stood up and walked back over to the tiger’s cage. Hesitantly, I reached my hand into his cage to pat his paw again. Immediately, his tongue flew out to lick my hand. I laughed at first and then sobered.

  Slowly, I moved my hand up to his cheek and stroked the soft fur. Then, feeling brave, I scratched him behind his ear. A deep vibration rumbled in his throat, and I realized he was purring. I grinned and scratched his ear some more. “Like that, do you?”

  I pulled my hand out of the cage, slowly again, and watched him for a minute, deliberating on what had happened. He had an almost human expression of melancholy on his face. Iftigers have souls, and I believe they do, I imagine his to be a lonely and sad one. I looked into those big blue eyes and whispered, “I wish you were free.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Two days later when I opened the door and walked into the barn, I saw a tall, distinguished man standing next to Ren’s cage. He didn’t hear me come in. He was talking softly, but I didn’t see Mr.

  Davis

  anywhere.

  I said, “Hello, can I help you find someone?”

  The man whipped around quickly, smiled at me, and said, “Hello, you must be Miss Kelsey. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Anik Kadam. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  He pressed his hands together and bowed.And I thought chivalry was dead.

  The first thing I noticed about him was his clothing. He was dressed in an expensive black suit, something a man usually did not wear in the summer unless he was attending church or a funeral. His polished black shoes definitely did not belong in a barn. The thick, white hair on his head was cut short, and he had a clo
sely trimmed beard and mustache. His eyes were dark brown, almost black, and he had a long, aquiline nose.

  The olive complexion and refined accent made me wonder where he came from. He could be from Britain, Greece, Iraq, or even Croatia. I suppose my best guess would be Euro-Asian, which meant I gave up trying to figure it out.

  “Yes, I’m Kelsey. Is there something I can do for you?”

  “Perhaps thereis something you can do for me, eh?” He smiled warmly at me. “I would like to speak to the owner of your circus about this magnificent animal,” he said, gesturing toward Ren.

  Confused, I replied, “Sure, Mr. Maurizio is in the back of the main building in the black motor home.

  Do

  you want me to take you there?”

  “No need to trouble yourself, my dear. But, thank you kindly for the offer. I will go and see him immediately.”

  He left the barn and quietly shut the door behind him.

  After checking Ren to make sure he was okay, I said, “Well, boy…that was sure strange. I wonder what he wanted. Maybe he has a thing for tigers.” I hesitated for a moment, and then reached my hand through the cage bars again. Amazed at my own boldness, I stroked his paw briefly and then began to get his breakfast ready. Speaking over my shoulder, I said, “It’s not every day a person sees a tiger as handsome as you are, you know. He probably just wants to compliment you on your performance.” Ren huffed in response.

  After I fed Ren, I decided to grab a bite to eat myself and headed toward the main building. There was a flurry of activity that wasn’t normal for the troupe at this time of day. People were gathering in the main building, and I overheard several animated conversations as they gossiped in small, scattered groups. I snatched a chocolate chip muffin and a bottle of cold milk, took a big bite, and cornered Matt.

  “What’s going on?” I mumbled with my mouth full.

  “I’m not exactly sure. My dad, Mr. Maurizio, and another man are in a serious meeting, and we were told to put a hold on our daily activities. We were instructed to wait here. We’reall wondering what’s going on.”

  “Hmm.” I sat and ate my muffin, listening to the wild theories and speculations of the troupe.

  We didn’t have to wait long. A few minutes later, Mr. Maurizio, Mr. Davis, and the stranger I’d met earlier walked into the building.

  Mr. Maurizio, with a beaming smile on his face, said, “Sedersi, my friends. Sit. Sit!”

  Everyone quickly shuffled to a chair and sat down.

  “Thisman, Mr. Kadam, has made me the most happy of men today. He has made an offer to purchase our belov’d tigre, Dhiren.”

  There was an audible gasp in the room as several people jostled in their seats and softly whispered to one another.

  He continued, “Now, now…fare silenzio. Shh mio amici. Let me finish! He wishes to take our tigre back

  to India to the Ranthambore National Park, the great tigre reserve. Mr. Kadam’s denaro will provide for our troupe for due annos!”

  He held up two fingers to emphasize the meaning of due annos for those of us who didn’t speak Italian.

  “Mr. Davis is in d’accordo with me and also feels that Dhiren will be assuredly happier there.” I glanced

  at Mr. Davis who solemnly nodded his agreement.

  “We have agree that we will finish the shows for this week, and then the tigre will go with Mr. Kadam con l’aereo, by airplane, to India, while we will move on to our next city. Dhiren will stay with us this last

  week until we make the grandioso finale next Saturday!”

  He thumped Mr. Kadam on the back, and the two men turned and disappeared out of the building. All at once, the hushed crowd started moving around quickly and began greeting each other happily. They darted back and forth among the different groups like a flock of chickens at feeding time, scuttling in and

  out of the crowd and pecking for tidbits of information and gossip. They spoke in excited tones and patted each other’s backs, murmuring excited congratulations.

  Everybody was happy except me. I sat there holding the remainder of my muffin in my limp hand. My mouth was still hanging open, and I felt frozen to my chair. After I finally closed my mouth, I got Matt’s attention.

  “What does this mean for your dad?”

  He shrugged. “Dad still has the dogs…and he’s always had an interest in working with miniature horses.

  Now that the circus has more money, maybe Dad can get Mr. Maurizio to purchase a couple that he could start training.”

  He walked off while I pondered the question,What does this mean for me? I felt…distressed. I knew that this circus gig would end soon, but I’d put it out of my mind. I’d really miss Ren. I didn’t realize how

  much until this very moment. Still…I was happy for him. I sighed and chided myself for getting too emotionally involved.

  Despite feeling happy for my tiger—I say “my” because I already felt possessive of him—I went through

  my day feeling depressed. I really enjoyed sitting and talking to him every day. I kept busy to keep my mind off it. Matt and I worked all afternoon, and I didn’t have time to seemy tiger again until after dinner.

  I hurried to my tent, grabbed my blanket, journal, and a book, and ran over to the barn. I walked in, found my favorite spot, and sat down with my legs stretched out in front of me.

  “Hey, Ren. Pretty big news for you, huh? You’re going back to India! I really hope you’ll be happy there. Maybe you can find yourself a pretty female tiger.”

  I heard a “harrumph” sound come from the cage.

  I thought for a minute. “Hey…I hope you still know how to hunt and stuff. Well, I guess being on a reserve they’d keep an eye on you so you don’t waste away.”

  I heard a noise coming from the back of the building and turned to see that Mr. Kadam had entered. I sat up a little straighter and felt a little self-conscious for being caught talking to a tiger.

  Mr. Kadam said, “I am sorry to distract you. Please enjoy your free time.”

  He glanced from the tiger to me, studied me carefully, then stated, “You seem to have…affection for this

  tiger. Am I right?”

  I answered unguardedly, “Yes. I enjoy my time with him.”

  He nodded. I asked, “Do you go around rescuing tigers? That has to be an interesting job.”

  Smiling, he replied, “Oh, it’s not my main job. My true job is managing a large estate. The tiger is an item

  of interest for my employer. He’s the one who has made the offer to Mr. Maurizio.”

  He found a stool, placed it down across from me, and sat down, balancing his tall body on the short stool with a natural ease I would not have expected from an older man.

  I asked him, “Are youfrom India?”

  “Yes,” he replied. “I was born and raised there many years ago. The main holdings of the estate that I manage are there also.”

  “Why is this owner so interested in Dhiren?”

  His eyes twinkled, and he glanced at the tiger briefly and then asked me, “Do you know the story of the great Prince Dhiren?”

  I shook my head and said, “No.”

  “Your tiger’s name, Dhiren…in my language means ‘strong one.’”

  He tilted his head and gazed at me thoughtfully. “This rather famous prince carried the same name, and he had quite an interesting history.”

  I grinned. “You are evading my question and rather successfully too. I love a good story. Can you remember it?”

  His eyes fixed on something far off in the distance and he smiled. “I think I can.”

  His voice changed. Losing its sophisticated European elegance, his accent became more pronounced and he began, “Long ago, there was a powerful raja of India who had two sons. The elder was named Dhiren and the younger was called Kishan. The two brothers received the best education and military training. Their mother taught them to love the land and all the people who lived there. She often took the boys to play with underp
rivileged children because she wished for them to learn what their people needed. It also taught them to feel humility and be grateful for the advantages they had.”

  He smiled. “Their father, the king, taught them how to rule the kingdom. Dhiren, in particular, grew up to

  be a brave and fearless military leader as well as a sensible administrator. Kishan was also very brave, strong, and clever.

  “Kishan loved his brother, but, at times, he felt the piercing stab of jealousy, for despite being successful

  in all of his training, Kishan knew that Dhiren was destined to be the raja. This made him feel…slightly less important in his parents’ eyes. Not that his parentsreally felt that way. Kishan just competed with his

  brother, a natural occurrence between siblings.

  “Dhiren had a knack for impressing people easily with his acumen, intelligence, and personality. That rare combination of charm and modesty embodied in the prince made him an outstanding politician. A person of…contradictions, he was a great warrior as well as a renowned poet. The people loved the royal family and looked forward to many peaceful and happy years under Dhiren’s reign.”

  I nodded, fascinated by the story, and said, “What happened to the brothers? Did they battle one another for the throne?”

  Shifting on the stool slightly, he continued, “Dhiren’s father, King Rajaram, arranged a marriage between

  Dhiren and the daughter of a ruler from a neighboring kingdom. Dhiren was pleased not only because the

  girl, whose name was Yesubai, was very beautiful, but also because he was wise enough to know that the union would bring peace to his land. They were formally engaged while Dhiren was away inspecting the troops in another part of the kingdom. During that absence, Kishan began to spend time with Yesubai, and soon they fell in love with one another.”

  The tiger snorted loudly and thumped his tail against the wooden floor of his cage a few times. I glanced

  over at him, concerned, but he seemed fine.

  “Shh, Ren. Let him tell the story.”

  He put his head on his paws and watched us.