The Hungry Tide - Amitav Ghosh [133]
There were six grown men in the house and they knew they had been presented with an opportunity unlikely ever to be repeated. This tiger was not new to their village; it had killed two people there and had long been preying on its livestock. Now, for the few minutes it was in the pen, it was vulnerable, because to make its escape it would have to leap vertically through the hole in the roof. Even for a tiger, this would not be a simple feat, not with a calf in its jaws.
The family had quickly gathered together a number of fishing nets. Then they had made their way outside and flung the nets over the thatch, piling them on, one on top of the other, and tying them down with heavy nylon crab lines. When the tiger tried to make its jump, it got entangled in the lines and fell back into the pen. It was struggling to free itself when one of the boys thrust a sharpened bamboo pole through a window and blinded it.
Kanai had been translating continuously as Horen was speaking, but at this point Piya stopped him. In a shaking voice she said, “Do you mean to tell me the tiger’s still in there?”
“Yes,” said Kanai, “that’s what he says. It’s trapped inside and blinded.”
Piya shook her head as if to wake herself from a nightmare: the scene was so incomprehensible and yet so vivid that it was only now she understood that it was the incapacitated animal that was being attacked with the sharpened staves. She was still absorbing this when the tiger gave voice for the first time. Instantly, the people around the pen dropped their staves and scattered, shielding their faces as if from the force of a detonation; the sound was so powerful that Piya could feel it through the soles of her bare feet as it echoed through the ground. For a moment nobody moved, and then, as it became clear the tiger was still trapped and helpless, the men snatched up their staves and attacked with redoubled fury.
Piya clutched Kanai’s arm and shouted into his ear, “We have to do something, Kanai. We can’t let this happen.”
“I wish there was something we could do, Piya,” Kanai said. “But I don’t think there is.”
“But we can try, Kanai,” she pleaded. “Can’t we?”
Then Horen whispered something and Kanai took hold of Piya’s arm and tried to turn her away. “Listen, Piya, we should go back now.”
“Go back? Go back where?”
“Back to the Megha,” said Kanai.
“Why?” said Piya. “What’s going to happen?”
“Piya,” said Kanai, tugging at her hand. “Whatever it is, it’s better you don’t stay here to see this.”
Piya looked into his face, illuminated by the torches. “What aren’t you telling me?” she said. “What are they going to do?”
Kanai spat into the dust. “Piya, you have to understand — that animal’s been preying on this village for years. It’s killed two people and any number of cows and goats —”
“This is an animal, Kanai,” Piya said. “You can’t take revenge on an animal.”
All around them now people were howling, their faces lit by the dancing flames: “Maar! Maar!” Kanai caught hold of her elbow and tried to lead her away. “It’s too late now, Piya. We should both go.”
“Go?” said Piya. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to put a stop to this.”
“Piya,” said Kanai. “You’re dealing with a mob here. They could turn on us too, you know. We’re outsiders.”
“So you’re just going to stand by and let it happen?”
“There’s nothing we can do, Piya.” Kanai was shouting now. “Be reasonable. Let’s go.”
“You can go if you like,” she said, shaking off his hand. “But I’m not going to run off like a coward. If you’re not going to do anything about this, then I will. And Fokir will — I know he will. Where is he?”
Kanai lifted a finger to point. “There. Look.”
Rising on tiptoe, Piya saw