Frozy and The Tiger, and other stories

February last week was unremarkably remarkable for me! That was when I was almost eaten alive by man eating tigers, when I almost fell off into a raging river, when I got shriveled up in snow, when I got roasted in a near-desert city and to top it all, when I had to watch red bikini clad Kingfisher Airhostess from the far away discomforts of the window seat. In English language, this complex and unfortunate series of events is called a VACATION!

The primary and sole reason for me to accept the crucifixion was a promised visit to a certain ‘Cabaret’ park. It was named after a famous white guy called, Jim. He must have been some sort of a regular customer. I simply couldn’t hide the glee. A park dedicated to cabaret with an overnight stay. Do I need to tell more? I was feeling like a Mujahedeen. Ready to sacrifice anything (live in the company of four old people for one whole week included!) in return of the promised 72 virgins (read: the cabaret, not so sure of virgins though)

When I reached there I realized why they call it wild life safari. I was taken for a real ride. There was no cabaret. This Jim fellow was someone who hunted tigers for food. So one day the Tiger High Command met and decided to name the forest after the old fellow and give him a parliamentary seat in 2009 general elections. Our Jim was mighty pleased with the trade off and stopped hunting tigers. That’s the story. No cabaret. No promised virgins. Jim Corbett National Park. Altogether a disappointing start. I can see how mujahedeen might feel once they leave the Earth.

Apparently there are 167 tigers in the forest. Tiger is part of the big, you know, Panthera family. They used to rule the British India like Bachans did in Sarkar. Then there was a big family feud and the family was split into four. Tiger Bachan, Lion Bachan, Jaguar Bachan and Leopard Bachan. Jaguar Bachan has been recently adopted by the Tata. It will be soon renamed to Tata Byebye Bachan.

These sub families have a specialty that only these four can roar, and of course Frozy. Anyone questioning my authority will be asked to watch Splitsvilla in MTV along with Navjot Singh Sidhu for a month. So choose carefully before you speak, you pathetic un-roarable creatures. (Even though Sidhu can roar and has lots of whiskers, my impeccable research has shown that he is not technically a Panthera. He is classified under the pantyhose sub species!)

After thinking a lot, I decided to give a try for a wild life safari. I was made to sit on a she-elephant. If you had shown that picture of mine in a “Show & Tell”, kids would have told “A prickly nut on a tom cat’s fur”. The resemblance was unmistakable even in that dense forest. The elephant now and then turned to make sure I am sitting on top. Couple of times she even swished her tail to check upon me. But Prickly-nut-me, held on for dear life. Hathiji was a bit unhappy and seemingly wanted to throw me down. But I am no stranger for hard play. I don’t like woman on top. Especially when it’s an elephant that we are talking about!

So the story started. We reached the middle of the forest, all dark and dingy. No sound. Dhak… dhak… Only the elephant walking… suddenly I hear the roar from the bushes behind me. It was a bloodcurdling growl of a full grown tiger. I knew I was a goner. I turned and peered (NOT peed. There is an ‘r’ in the middle) into the darkness to see if I can spot a tiger at least before it jumps. But nothing came. The mammoth continued its cat walk as if nothing had happened. I could hear roars again and again. Always from behind me, hiding among the bushes perhaps.

But the driver of the elephant (or whatever you people call him) was least bothered. He was chewing something and had a stupid smile like he was watching an SRK movie. That’s when I realized that the roaring culprit was not the tiger but none other than the elephant itself. That idiot mammoth must have eaten too much of aloo the previous night and had major gastric problem.  The roar I heard was actually its bloody fart. Unbelievable. So much for my tiger tales. I took the next flight back home.

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