The hunter took a deep breath and replied, ‘Who knows? Maybe the big boar who has been eating our best paddy these past years will make an appearance soon. I am giving my gun a thorough cleaning so that this time I do not miss his heart.’

  For the last five seasons, the hunter called Imchanok had been after this particularly vicious boar which had been devastating the rice paddies of the village and in his field; the animal chose to feast in the areas where he had planted the best variety of rice. When it happened for two consecutive years, his wife suggested that they change the site and accordingly they planted this variety on the western ridge of their vast field. But to no avail; the cussed boar somehow located that very portion to feast on. The animal, sighted by the villagers on several occasions, was reported to be of enormous proportions, had a lumbering gait, and two yellowish tusks curling backwards, almost touching his hump. Not only that, he seemed to have an equally vicious nature. He ate what he could and trampled over a wide area as if to inflict the maximum damage on the paddy. Strangely, Imchanok had so far not even had a fleeting glimpse of this notorious animal, though it was on his paddy that the most damage was done. Many a night during the cold winter he had kept vigil, waiting for the boar to come to his paddy, but it seemed the animal sensed his presence from a distance and went on to other fields. As he thought of the prospect of felling this animal, whom by now he considered to be his enemy, his hands flew up and down the barrel with the greased-cloth, removing the slightest sign of earlier firings. Even the butt of the gun shone with the newly applied coat of varnish. He then stood the gun on the side of the barn and went inside to check the cartridges. He had recently bought a full packet and had lent only two of them to his closest friend, in return for which he had received a whole hind-leg of a sambar which his friend had shot. Having satisfied himself that he was ready for the big encounter, he came out to fetch the sun-warmed gun, took it inside, wrapped it in its special cloth and shoved it into the top of the wooden almirah in his bedroom.

  That evening when his wife, Tangchetla, came home from the field, she found him in a very jovial mood holding forth amongst the regular visitors, sitting beside a roaring fire sipping black tea. Gauging their mood she instantly knew that the reason could be nothing less than another sighting of the dreaded boar. This animal had begun to haunt the waking moments of all the menfolk during the harvest season; whose field would be the next site of this marauder’s devastation, everyone wondered. This was now the sixth year and with every passing year they were becoming more desperate, as there seemed to be no one, not even a famous hunter like Imchanok, who could rid them of this menace. For Imchanok, it had become a personal contest, between two strong-willed beings.

  Imchanok’s fame as a skilled hunter had grown over the years. He was a teacher in the village Lower Primary School but that identity had long been eclipsed by that of the hunter. In this capacity he had also received a reward from the government when a rogue elephant had to be shot after it had destroyed several acres of farmland, many homesteads and trampled a number of people to death. There were other hunters in his village and neighbouring ones too, but every single one of them had declined the offer from the government. In fact they had all said that if there was any hunter who could match the cunning of the rogue elephant and kill him, it was Imchanok. So when the offer came to him, it was more in the nature of an order. The Deputy Commissioner sent a Dobhashi with an elephant-shooting rifle and ammunition. They told Imchanok that he could ask for any assistance from the Village Council for the hunt; he was given seven days to accomplish the task.

  This was a most extraordinary situation, one for which Imchanok was totally unprepared. It was one thing to choose when, where, and what to hunt but quite another to be faced with the real challenge. Inwardly he began to fume and say to himself, ‘What do these sahibs know about the jungle? Do they think that the elephant will be waiting at a convenient place for me to go and shoot him? Don’t they know how intelligent these animals are, that they can almost think like human beings? And the area that they can cover when they decide to run?’

  But it was an order from the government and he had to comply. Somewhere along the communication process there was even a faint hint of threat: that those who refused to cooperate in this matter might find their hunting licences suspended or even revoked! The other consideration was his reputation as top hunter of the region. Either way, he found himself committed to a hunt that presented itself in such a strange way. So he enlisted the assistance of his most trusted hunting partners and sent them out on a reconnaissance mission to the areas where the rampages had taken place. When they returned with their findings, they held what can be termed as a war council. They debated long into the night and after a few hours’ sleep towards the morning, resumed their discussion to give a final shape to their plan. All the members of this group, being skilled trekkers in the jungle, and knowledgeable in the habits of wild animals, chose a spot in the thick valley to set a trap for the big animal. They knew that because of sentries being posted at strategic points around the cultivated areas, the elephant had gone back to foraging in the deep jungle. The spot they chose was one that had not been visited by it yet. It took the seven men most of the day to dig a hole wide and deep enough to hold a full-grown bull elephant. Next, they carefully camouflaged the hole with branches and leaves brought from a different area.

  Retreating to their vantage point, they ate cold rice and drank black tea to await the animal’s visit. The first night ended but there was no sign of the animal. Towards the evening of the second day, it began to rain and the hunters hurriedly covered their weapons to keep the rain out of the barrels. Besides the official elephant-hunting rifle, three others had carried their double-barrelled guns as additional precaution; there could be other dangerous animals too. But Imchanok was praying that no other animal would appear to upset their carefully-laid-down plan. The second night dragged on; the hunters were wet, hungry and terribly afraid. Only Imchanok seemed unperturbed; he was taking imaginary aims with the gunsight, inwardly wishing that he had had an opportunity to test his aim with this unaccustomed weapon, which was in his hand for the first time. But he had enough confidence in his own skill as a marksman and prayed that there would be no distraction at the crucial moment. As the night progressed, the jungle grew quieter and quieter. Even the watchers became less alert and appeared to be in the grip of that great stillness that only a dark slumbering jungle can induce. Imchanok was fully awake; he sensed the weariness in his companions and let them doze for a few precious moments before nudging the nearest one awake with a gentle kick to his side. As the chain of similar kicks went round, everyone sat up and tried to adjust his vision in the eerie darkness that seemed to have swallowed up the lush green jungle. They waited, each lost in his thoughts. Then came the time in the dying night when you think that day is breaking but cannot see anything except darkness though the daybreak is so clear in your mind. This sensation came first to Imchanok and he silently shifted his body-weight from left to right. The one next to him caught this movement and did the same; then the next and the next until every single man held his position as if freshly energized by this slightest of movements.

  The first signal that there was other life in the jungle came from the frantic flutter of a wild fowl perched on a tall tree some distance away. The hunters tensed up in their positions and waited. The ensuing silence somehow depressed them; another day would go unrewarded. Then all at once the jungle echoed with the wild cries of monkeys perched on every conceivable tree; they were truly frightened of something. In the distance the faint swirling of mist could be seen dispersing in the retreating darkness, ushering the break of day. The screeching went on for some time before the hunters realized that there was another sound in the general din. At first it sounded like the yell of bigger monkeys, but when Imchanok listened carefully, he stood up in his place and hissed to the others, ‘He is here.’ Quietly each hunter went to his assigned position and once again stood still like a statue behind the covers erected earlier. Imchanok had the highest vantage point, and holding his rifle at the ready, he waited there to face this unfamiliar adversary.

  The elephant took his own time straying to the appointed area. He seemed completely at ease, breaking a twig here and peeling a bark there as though eager to taste everything that came his way. Several times he stopped in an open space to have a dust bath, but the earth was still moist from the night; he stomped on the earth in mild irritation. He was still quite a way off and except Imchanok, the others were either too scared to look, or were unable to have a clear view of the elephant’s morning meanderings. At one stage the elephant seemed to stand still, as if in deep concentration; from the distance Imchanok saw this and became alarmed. Had he by any chance detected some tell-tale signs of their activities? If so, the animal might run away in fright or worse still, might even try to take revenge by charging at the hunters. But as he continued to watch the animal which appeared huge even from this distance, he heard a low growl which grew in volume until the animal expelled his body-waste, delicately side-stepped the lump and proceeded to demolish more bushes and branches on his way. Imchanok had seen elephant dung before in the jungle and he remembered how the huge lumps would emit a foul smell in the early morning sun.

  In the brightening light of the morning the elephant looked calm and serene, happily devouring the young plants and tall grass in his vicinity. He appeared to be in no hurry; he even tried lying down once but got up immediately. He flapped his enormous ears and began enjoying a dust bath now that the loose earth had dried up, scooping it up with his trunk and blowing it all over his flanks. From his position, Imchanok watched his antics with growing concern, the distance between him and the animal being beyond the range of his gun. Besides, the trap-hole that they had dug was too far away. When the elephant was shot, they hoped, he would head for the area where the hole was and would be trapped there. Then the final shot could be fired to his skull through the eyes which every hunter knew was the only shot that could kill an elephant. So another waiting game began.

  By now it was full daylight and the other hunters too could see the animal from their various vantage points. The initial terror of the unknown was relieved by the spectacle they witnessed. Confident that at that distance they would not be visible to their prey, they began to watch him in silent fascination. But not for long, because the increasing heat of the day was beginning to tell on the elephant’s behaviour and he started to blow his trunk in distress. He rushed headlong into the jungle in search of a shady spot and moved towards the clump of bushes carefully arranged near the hole by the hunters earlier. But before entering the spot which seemed to offer some shade, he stood still in his tracks, darting glances in all directions. He was now close enough for Imchanok to attempt a shot. But the hunter was not sure if the others had already moved to their secondary positions of safety, chosen earlier for just such a moment. The elephant sensed danger and tried to retreat, but his huge body moved sluggishly. The slow turning of his head was all that Imchanok needed. Taking careful aim, he fired twice in rapid succession into what he hoped were his eyes. The first shot caught the animal full face, stunning him. He turned around and that is how the second bullet entered his brain through the ears and lodged there. Imchanok loaded again and fired two more times. At least one of the two bullets must have hit him because the animal seemed to totter.

  Imchanok watched in awe and terrified fascination the slow careening of the dying animal as he tried to keep his balance and still move away. But the bullets had surely found their mark because the huge animal toppled over with a last ear-splitting roar from his trunk. He did not fall into the hole as they had planned but was killed anyway. Later, Imcha brushed aside the praises for his shooting skill and claimed that it was only through divine intervention that he was able to fire at the precise moment when he did. A moment earlier or later, and the bullets would have simply glanced off the thick hide, merely enraging the rogue and putting all of them in mortal danger.

  When it was considered safe enough to approach the site, all of them stood in a circle and watched from a safe distance as the life-force oozed out of the huge creature, till the last great heave and the eventual stillness of the huge carcass. As he watched this mysterious process, Imchanok happened to look into the unblinking, unseeing eye of his adversary, lying there so helpless, divested of his menacing power for destruction. Was it his imagination? He would wonder forever because he thought he saw tears in those beady eyes and something else: it was as though the dying animal were trying to convey some message to his destroyer which remained frozen in time; this was to haunt Imchanok for a very long time. The experienced hunter had never once in his hunting career thought of the animals that he shot as anything but legitimate bounty. Killing the elephant however was something else. Previously, he, the hunter had been in control all the time and chosen what and when to kill; but it was not so with the huge elephant lying dead before them. The prey had been ‘allotted’ to him. The sense of accomplishment that he used to enjoy after every kill was missing. True, there was no doubt in his mind that killing the elephant was the only way of ensuring safety for innocent villagers and their fields. But why did it have to be he who was placed, in this particular instance, at the centre of the eternal contest between man and animal for dominion over the land?

  Imchanok the hunter became even more famous after this episode; he was given a cash award and offered a fine gun. He accepted the money which he shared with his hunting partners but refused to accept the gun, saying that he already had a gun and one gun was enough for any hunter. The administrators were puzzled by his refusal but did not press him any further. What they failed to understand was that Imchanok did not want to be obliged to them beyond accepting payment for services rendered. He had resolved in his mind that never again would he undertake any such task, government order or otherwise. If he took the gun from the government, he surmised, he would forfeit his freedom of choice.

  Whatever his private thoughts about this incident, Imcha’s present worry was the havoc caused by the old boar. The depredation of cultivated fields was a recurrent disaster for the villagers; but not on the scale of this particular animal’s savagery. He remembered one harvest season a long time ago when a pack of monkeys used to eat his grain at the half-way hut on the outskirts of the village. Before there were motorable roads, villagers used to shift the harvested paddy to such half-way huts from where the women and even children would carry the grain to the barns in the village. Since the trek from the fields in the valley was steep these halfway houses reduced not only the distance but also spared them the arduous uphill climb. In this manner, transportation of the harvest was made easy for them. But these huts became the favourite foraging spots for the monkeys because they were not afraid of the women and children who were the only ones to be found there. Not only would the animals eat and spoil the grain, they would often try to intimidate them by baring their fangs and shrieking loudly; sometimes they actually attacked the helpless women and children. There was one particularly vicious male in the group which appropriated Imchanok’s half-way hut, and it became dangerous for the womenfolk to try to take the grain out when this group was feeding there. When this was reported to him, he devised a plan to shoot the male in order to scare away the other monkeys.

  He allowed the monkeys to feel free and unafraid to feed there by stopping his wife and her party from going there for two days. On the third day he went there at the crack of dawn armed with his trusted gun, and hid himself in a corner of the hut. As expected, the group of monkeys led by the cocky male came after daybreak to feast there. After scattering noisily over the mound of paddy they began their daily ritual of not only eating the same but the babies in the group even started throwing the grain at one another in play, so uncannily like human children. Imchanok was distracted by this spectacle for a while. But when he looked at the huge male, he saw that the monkey had become aware of his presence and had begun to call out in distressed tones, trying to herd them out of the hut. At the same time he was feigning attacks on Imchanok who had by now come out of hiding. Since he was not concerned with the other members, Imchanok took careful aim at the leader and pulled the trigger. But the monkey was quick in dodging the bullet which hit him only on his fat flank. Even then he did not yield; he stood there until his entire group had managed to get out of the hut through the single door. Only then did he try to get away. But the injury to his flank was serious and he became immobile on the spot where he had stood to protect his family. When Imchanok took aim once again, the monkey raised his arms as though in surrender or supplication, and slowly covered his eyes even as the hunter released the fatal shot to his heart. With a groan he toppled over on the ground and lay there motionless. After making sure that the animal was truly dead, Imchanok went to the village and sent his nephews to bring the carcass home.

  There was much rejoicing in his family; not only because the menace of the monkeys seemed to have been taken care of, but also because there would be plenty of meat for them for many days. The carcass of the monkey was placed in the front courtyard for all to see. It was kept in a sitting position, its head propped up by a bamboo from behind and in this position it looked truly human! One of the nephews, a prankster by disposition, found a hat from somewhere and put it on the animal’s head; someone else brought a cigarette and put it in its mouth. The crowning glory of this circus was a pair of goggles and this was ceremoniously placed above its flat nose. The dressing-up being complete, Imchanok was called out of the house, and when he saw the transformed monkey, something burst in him. He advanced to the sitting monkey and began to slap it alternately on each cheek, cursing it all the time. With the first slap, the cigarette fell out of the monkey’s mouth; with the next, the pair of goggles, which was sitting precariously anyway. After a few more slaps the monkey toppled over once more, this time with his legs and forepaws all pointing skywards, stiff, in death. The out-stretched arms seemed to parody its dying moments when it had seemed to be supplicating before his executioner. Imchanok advanced to the grimacing animal and shouted, ‘So, you wanted to destroy me by stealing my paddy, did you? Look at you now. You scared and bullied my womenfolk; where are yours now? Another male will take them over while I cut you up and feed my people with your flesh.’

 

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