Fernando
had stopped by the old well that winter evening and stood there, staring at his
own reflection. He did this every day and for no apparent reason. Only that
day, the setting sun had painted the sky with an orange hue. There was a nip in
the wind. The bulbuls had settled for the night amidst the Guava tree growing
nearby. Darkness was setting in.
“What
are you doing there!” he heard someone shout from a distance.
Startled,
he turned around to see an indistinct figure. As the figure approached the
well, Fernando could see that it was an old man who had wrapped himself with a thick
woolen blanket. He walked with a limp in his right leg and carried a cane.
“Young
boys like you should not be here this late in the evening. You better get going”
he said.
“Nothing,
Bora, I was just looking at the calm waters of the well” replied Fernando.
Bora
was from the same village as Fernando and used to guard the paddy fields at night
from the wild pigs during winter. In summers, he did odd jobs at the
village. It was one such summer that Bora injured his leg. Fernando and a bunch
of kids had cajoled him to climb up a coconut tree and get tender coconut but Bora
lost his footing and came crashing down. The village did not have a doctor and
the local bone setter had twisted Bora’s leg back into its place. He obviously
did not do a good job of it. With age, this incident had faded in Bora's mind
but the limp remained.
“You seem to want get into trouble always”
exclaimed Bora, recognizing it was little Fernando.
“Have
you not heard about the Bears and Tigers that roam this forest?” he said.
“You
must not be here after dark, now run along” he added.
Indeed,
Fernando had heard about the dangerous Tigers and Bears, from the wood
gatherers but he had never believed them.
“Alright,
alright, no need to get excited” he replied and began to walk homewards.
On
his way home, he stopped occasionally upon hearing a faint rustle of leaves,
only to see a Pitta settling for the night. He knew the bird because the
village boys had once managed to bring one down with a catapult. Many years
later, he had seen one alive and recognized it by the distinct ‘Peeee-Pewwww’
song, which confirmed its presence even in the dark.
Back
home, his mother was busy patting ‘Rotti’ and baking them on an upturned earthen
pot. His village was remote and did not have electricity. Everything had to be
done with the wood stove. The kerosene lamp was spewing out soot along with
light on the wall.
“Why
are you so late?”
“Did
you stop by the well again you stupid boy?”
“Care
to enlighten me with the wisdom that dawned on you by doing so?” asked his
mother with a hint of sarcasm.
Fernando
remained quiet.
He
nibbled on the dry Rotti, drank a glass of buttermilk and rolled out a mat in
the verandah. He sat there leaning against a pillar, looking up at the clear
sky. It was full moon and the cold wind was pleasing and just like that, he
fell asleep. His mother came over, covered him with a woolen blanket, dimmed
the kerosene lamp on the wall and called it a night as well.
Fernando
was like that. He was a quiet boy who seldom spoke. He roamed around, rather
dazed and his classmates always made fun of him. He was however, wise enough to
take it all in his stride. He stopped by the well for some other reason.
It
was the well that was built by his mother’s father. It was a deep one with a
spiral staircase made of thick laterite stones that were common around his
little village in the foot hills of the Sahyadri. The well used to be popular
among boys who would dive into it and swim. Except Fernando. He was reluctant to
get into the water. May be stopped there to contemplate on why he was the only
one who did not know to swim; perhaps he found solitude in the calm surface of
the water.
School,
he had found to be terribly boring. His village life, dull. His childhood, lonely.
The
next morning, he was back in school. The only thing he looked forward to in
school was Mr. Rajanagams geography class. People knew him as ‘RN’. He was from
the plains above the hills and always wore a black coat with a black velvet hat.
He got trained in English by an Englishman in a convent but never got the hang
off the confusing language. He would stress words when he shouldn’t and forgot
to stress them when he should have. The kids always had a good laugh when he said
‘Uranus’, much to his chagrin for he did not know why they laughed hysterically
when he simply named a planet before Neptune. The students would also mistake
his abbreviated name of ‘RN’ for the currency of Japan! That their knowledge of
the globe was so bad that they could not tell Jamaica from Japan was another
matter.
When
RN was not teaching, he would be sitting in the dilapidated staff room peering
over maps. Fernando had seen maps before. His father had once got one home many
years ago. It was because the police found a map in his father’s possession and
sentenced him to death by hanging. Fernando had looked keenly
at it and was mesmerized by the lines and squiggles. He was old enough now to
know the squiggles were outlines of countries. The horizontal and vertical
lines were latitudes and longitudes. He knew making maps was a difficult task
but they were useful. Fernando had a wonderful spatial memory mainly because he
often wandering around aimlessly around the village.
That
evening, after school, Fernando mustered enough courage to walk into the staff
room and talk to RN.
“Sir,
can you teach me how to make a map” he asked politely
“What do you want to make a map of? Of your godforsaken
village?”
“A
village in which half the people have either died of malaria or have left the
place in the fear of ferocious Tigers?” RN added, mockingly.
Fernando
knew about the dreaded malaria very well. His young brother had died of delirious
fevers not long ago. He also knew that because people either died or left his
village, the school did not have a quorum and was shut; which was why he had to
come to this school, many miles away.
“But
sir, I know the trails in and around our village. May be a map will help the
hunters to get rid of the Tigers which scare our last remaining villagers”
replied Fernando.
“Alright,
that does seem like a good idea but I like to see your village first” said RN.
“I
have also heard that you people get delicious jackfruit in the forest, I’d very
much like to taste it once” he added.
On the
following Saturday afternoon, they both began to walk back from school. On the
way, Fernando stopped at the well and stood there again, staring at his own
reflection. RN stared at the water too and was tempted swim. Swimming came naturally
to RN. He had heard about the ‘English Channel’ and wanted to set a record by
swimming across.
Undressing
to his loincloth, RN dived in. Neither of them was aware of the danger that was
lurking behind. Fernando stood there, looking at RN swim like a fish. Suddenly,
he caught sight of something in the corner of his eye. Along the edge of the
forest, he saw a crouched figure. At first, he thought it was the hot winter
sun playing tricks on his mind. Then he saw something twitch. It was the black
tip of a Tiger’s tail! It was less than 50 yards away and the beast was ready
to pounce on Fernando.
He
thought he will reach the village if he ran quickly. But then, RN would be left
in his loincloth and the Tiger could get him if he got out. Before he knew it,
the Tiger sprung at him.
Tiger!
Tiger! Fernando screamed and blacked out.
Fernando
woke up coughing water. He lay on Bora’s lap with his mother in tears and RN
peering at him. A smile dawned upon everybody.
“What happened?” mumbled Fernando.
“Nothing
son, Nothing. We must thank the gods for you are alive!” he exclaimed. Fernando’s
mother went off to the kitchen to get warm milk mixed with crushed turmeric and fried Jackfruit.
The
only person who knew what had happened was Fernando and he did not remember a
thing!
Rajanagam
only saw Fernando jump into the water and had saved him from drowning. Soon
after Fernando dived into the well, RN had hauled him up the stairs to find Bora
running towards the well. Bora had heard the screams and knew Fernando was in
some trouble. Only the previous evening, a Tiger had attacked one of Bora’s only
two cattle. The Tiger was unsuccessful and Bora knew it was lurking around.
Hence, he had built a hide atop a tree and sat there.
Bora
and RN lifted Fernando, got him home and managed to revive him.
The dreadful
Tiger was soon taken care of by hunters who dug pits and set baits along
particular trails marked out by Fernando on a map. The Tiger fell into a pit
and was sold off to a circus in some distant land in Europe. Perhaps Portugal
or was it France?
As
for Fernando, one can never be sure if it was the Tiger or the fear of water
that made him unconscious that fateful Saturday afternoon. It is most likely
the Tiger but thanks to the beast, Fernando now jumps into the same old well
and swims like a fish. He does so every evening without fear or a care in the
world.
A short piece of fiction by Seshadri K S. 2nd February 2018
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