Page 22 of Tiger's Curse
She nodded and approached me. Motioning with her fingers, she said, “Little bit English.”
I pointed to a triangular pastry filled with spicy vegetables. “What is this called?”
“Thissamosa.”
“What about this one and this?”
She indicated one and then the other: “Rasmalaiandbaigan bhartha.” She smiled shyly and bustled off to work on the shelves again.
As far as I could tell, therasmalaiwere balls of goat cheese dipped in a sweet cream sauce, and thebaigan bharthawas an eggplant dish with peas, onions, and tomatoes. It was all very good, but a bit too much. When I was finished, the woman brought me a milkshake made with mangoes, yogurt, and goat’s milk.
I thanked her, sipped my milkshake, and let my eyes drift to the scene outside. There wasn’t much of a view: just the gas station and two men standing by the truck talking. One was a very handsome young man dressed in white. He faced the store and spoke with another man who had his back toward me. The second man was older and looked like Mr. Kadam. They seemed to be having an argument. The longer I watched them, the stronger my conviction became that itwasMr. Kadam, but he was arguing hotly with the younger man, and I couldn’t picture Mr. Kadam ever becoming angry like that.
Huh, that’s weird, I thought and tried to catch a few words through the open window. The older man saidnahi mahodayaoften, and the younger man kept sayingavashyakor something like that. I thumbed through my Hindi dictionary and foundnahi mahodayaeasily. It meantno wayorno, sir. Avashyakwas harder because I had to figure out how to spell it, but I eventually found it. That word meantnecessaryoressential, something thatmust beorhas to happen.
I walked to the window to get a better look. Just then, the young man in white looked up and saw me staring at them from the window. He immediately ceased his conversation and stepped out of my line of vision, around the side of the truck. Embarrassed to be caught, but irresistibly curious, I made my way through the maze of shelves to the door. I needed to know if the older man really was Mr. Kadam or not.
Grabbing the loose door handle, I twisted it and pushed it open. It squeaked on rusty hinges. I walked across the dirt road and over to the truck, but still, I didn’t see anyone. Circling the truck, I stopped at the back and saw that Ren was alert and watching me from his cage. But the two men and the driver had disappeared. I peeked into the cab. No one was there.
Confused, but remembering I hadn’t paid my bill, I crossed the street and went back into the store. The young girl had already cleared away my dishes. I pulled some bills from the backpack and asked, “How much?”
“One hundred rupees.”
Mr. Kadam had told me to figure out money by dividing the total by forty. I quickly calculated she was asking for two dollars and fifty cents. I smiled to myself as I thought about my math-loving dad and his quick division drills when I was little. I gave her two hundred rupees instead, and she beamed happily.
Thanking her, I told her the food was delicious. I picked up my backpack, opened the squeaky door, and stepped outside.
The truck was gone.
7
the jungle
how could the truck be gone?
I ran out to the gas pump and looked both ways down the dirt road. Nothing. No dust cloud. No people. Nothing.
Maybe the driver forgot about me? Maybe he needed to get something and is coming back? Maybe the truck was stolen and the driver is still around here somewhere?I knew none of these were likely scenarios, but they made me feel hopeful—if only for a minute.
I walked around to the other side of the gas pump and found my black bag lying in the dust. I rushed over to it, picked it up, and checked inside. Everything seemed to be in order.
Suddenly, I heard a noise behind me and whirled around to see Ren sitting by the side of the road. His tail twitched back and forth while he watched me. He looked like a giant abandoned puppy wagging his tail hoping someone would claim him and take him home.
I muttered, “Oh, no! This is just great! ‘Nothing will go wrong,’ Mr. Kadam said. Ha! The driver must have stolen the truck and let you out. What am I going to do now?”
Tired, scared, and alone, my mom’s words of advice came flooding back: “bad things sometimes happen to good people”; “the key to happiness is to try to make the best of, and be thankful for, the hand we’re dealt,” and her all-time favorite, “when life gives you lemons, make lemon meringue pie.” Mom had tried and practically given up having kids—and then I came along. She always said that you never know what’s going to be right around the corner.
So, I focused on the positives. First, I still had all my clothes. Second, I had my traveling papers and a bag full of money. That was the good news. The bad news, of course, was that my ride was gone and a tiger was on the loose! I decided the first order of business was to secure Ren. I went back to the store and bought some jerky snacks and a long length of rope.
With my newly acquired fluorescent-yellow rope, I walked outside and tried to get my tiger to cooperate. He’d moved off several paces and was now heading for the jungle. I ran after him.
The sensible thing would have been to go back to the store, borrow a phone, and call Mr. Kadam. He could send some people, professional-type people, to catch him. But I was far from thinking sensibly at this point. I was afraid for Ren. I had absolutely no fear of him for myself, but what if others panicked and used weapons to subdue him? I also worried that even if he escaped, he couldn’t survive in the jungle. He wasn’t used to hunting on his own. I knew it was utterly foolish, but I chose to follow my tiger.
I begged, “Ren, come back! We need to get some help! This isn’t your reserve. Come on, I’ll give you a nice treat!” I waved the jerky snack in the air, but he kept moving. I was weighed down with Mr. Kadam’s backpack and my bag. I could keep up with him but the extra weight was too much for me to overtake him.
He wasn’t moving very quickly, but he always managed to keep several paces ahead of me. Suddenly, he loped off and darted into the jungle. My backpack bobbed heavily up and down as I chased after him. After about fifteen minutes of pursuit, sweat was trickling down my face, my clothes were stuck to my body, and my feet were dragging like heavy stones.
As my pace slowed, I entreated again, “Ren,pleasecome back. We need to go back to the town. It’s going to be dark soon.”
