Benoy P.J.
(A story written around 2002 and published in the May june issue of Indian Literature in 2004)
He
felt the weight of the tiger pressing him to the floor, felt the soft woolen of
its skin and the steel underneath. It smacked his face with its wet , rough
tongue and before he could cry out, or do anything about it, closed his mouth
with its fat paw which had some- how become soft and gentle, all its claws withdrawn. He was confused as to what to make
out of it, the smell was excruciating and yet familiar, as if it was there with
him before he had come to smell anything else. He thought as to whether it
would not be a good idea to give the tiger a little bath, rubbing its body with
oil, washing then with soap and warm water and finally brushing him nicely with
utmost devotion. But then that could only be a fabulous dream, for, as of now,
he was pinned to the floor. He had sensed it stalking him and when if finally
jumped on to his top, he had known it coming for a long long time, though he
couldn’t really figure out as to how to handle it any better for all that.
“I
am not going to kill you, not going to eat you, nor even feast on your blood as
vampires do – for I am also a vampire, as you must have made out by now.” It
suddenly said, in a voice that had the same quality about it that he had
perceived in the body that was on him now, charming as well as dangerous. He
felt a secret ebullience, the smell of an unwashed body, the pressure of a manly
paw on his chest and flesh thrusting against his groins. He even imagined his
little toy standing up against young girlish thighs, but then the tiger smacked
his face again and the strong smell grew nauseating.
“I
told you about what I am not going to do, now I will tell you what I will. You
can’t do much about it, in fact you can do nothing because I have my thing
between your girlish thighs and I am going to rape you, and believe me, you are
going to enjoy it, enjoy it tremendously, I mean. You know you cannot get away,
that is the way you have been trained, with your thing red and rubbing against
girlish thighs, which is much the same as what we have here, only, we have the
position reversed, because it is I who have you between my paws, with my
predatorial instincts sharp and awake, pressing down on you, my mouth that
needs a tooth brush or a mouth freshener, a clean-up job, as you have been
trained to imagine.”
The
weight of the tiger crushed him, it smelled of cold sweat and urine, there were
mosquitoes all around and somewhere at the end of his field of vision, he could
see the stripes ascending into the sky along the curve of its tail. It was
growing hotter and hotter, he could have liked to wriggle out, if only for a
moment, just to take a deep breath, even call out something. As to what
precisely he could do, he did not know, would have kept on guessing; only it
did not seem to matter anymore.
“You
can do without doing.” It said, as if in jest. The sun in its eyes glared out
at him. It turned its head up and growled. “I will strip you off your stripes,”
it continued, thrusting the sticky tongue into his ears. For a moment he
wondered as to whether he had any, whether he was not all rosy-rosy, whether he
had the claws, sharp yellow teeth and the fierce look of a tiger. He felt a
deep resentment, “No”, he wanted to say, I am not a violent beast, that is for
sure, you can’t put that on me, being a vegetarian I have never preyed on you,
never carried it too far-I was gentle, carried my stripes with grace, was never
excessive, as you very well know.”
The
tiger withdrew its paw from his mouth, patted him gently on the cheek, brushed
his hair back a little, kissed him tenderly on the mouth and whispered, as if
it had read his thoughts, “Me know nothing’ of that sort, lad. Me know
nothing.’”
“There;”
he thought, “you are being unfair to me now, and me I have always been fair to
you.”
“Now
you sure talk in’…….You always been fair, fair is what you are” came the reply.
“Though fairness is not necessarily fair-if I may remind you.”
“You stripes devour the country, and me lads
are left all bones –fair cnough. You even sell us creams to make fair…you
always ‘been fair in no mean measure, no doubt.” The tiger shifted its weight a
little, brought the paw back to his mouth, and continued: “ ‘Dreams won’t take
you anywhere, work!’ You tell me all the time. “Me I keep dreamin’.”
He
wanted to smoke a cigarette badly, pity the tiger is no fun, talking stuff like
that. “One has to move ahead, that is what one ought to do-shouldn’t get stuck
up anywhere. “With stripes like that you should be in the army, you know….’papa
used to say. No need to slog away like an ass when you are a tiger yourself. Things
are pretty good around here, except for this temporary inconvenience.” This
time it was as if he had spoken.
The
beast made a soft purring sound, turned its head and said: “Don’t thin’ that
you gonna get away that fast, smart chap. Me gonna make life a bit difficult
for you. Goin’ to take away a few things, that is.”
“Like?”
“Your
scared threads, my boy, all those that make you hang above us in this tiny
world. Your pompous education, “universal’ accent, star and stripes, your
upward turned nose, superior airs and ultimates so-phiistrication-every thing
that makes you into a tiger, that is. “Graceful’, that is what you thought of
your bearing, ain’t it? Allow the demon to take away thy lord’s graces.”
“Ancestor
God!!” he said in a meek voice, “The one who was there at the beginning !
Protector of primal instincts and energies !! Pardon my excesses.”
“Fuck
off, you filthy rascal! I knew that you would come around to that. As if I
would have taken pride in siring your kind! Made us carry your shit for
generations-was that because you loved us so? Now don’t tell me to carry it in
my head. Turning us into submissive because all the time, invoking the law of
the genre to return the mouse to its pristine moorings-I know you would love to
do it. But the game is up. You with your scared stripes are not the only tiger
around any more.”
The
beast let out a growl and thrust its tongue up his throat, making him gasp for
breath and extracted something from him that it cracked between its powerful
teeth and spat. He could see his tongue, bloody and mutilated, fall out from
its mouth. The tiger turned, its eyes a glowing green, and the paw dug into his
mouth. His back ached, his thing stood up aching with desire. The glasses fell off,
his hands groped in the darkness, the tiger had somehow merged with the sky,
and under its huge torso he felt that there was no air and no room, an enormous
weight crushed him against the floor.
The
room was empty except for him and the tiger, which may have come in through the
window, half by invitation and half by itself. Yet there was no room, ne bed,
no window-only a grim weight that crushed him down, a vast space that pressed
down on them, the snarl on the tiger’s face, its vibrant eyes, its claws, sharp
teeth and rough, wet tongue.
