Tiger Boy: Chapters 6–10

But Baba didn’t say a word. His face looked as grooved and gnarled as an old door. He stayed quiet as Rupa and Ma served lentils, rice, spinach, potatoes, and eggs.

But Baba only sighed and shook his head. He stood up and trudged into the house, his figure as bent as if he were carrying a heavy load of wood on his strong shoulders.

That night Neel slept fitfully, waking from a nightmare about a pack of vultures tearing the cub’s body to shreds.

Crocodiles lurked on the banks—could one have captured the cub in its powerful jaws? They often dragged away their prey before devouring it.

Baba was still shrouded in the same strange silence during breakfast, and this time Neel couldn’t bring himself to try to break it.

The desk tipped to the side like a boat about to capsize, and a pile of books and papers tumbled to the floor.

“Let me see his last attempt.”
Teacher rummaged through a file and pulled out Neel’s assignment from the day before, which was covered with red ink. “With fifty students, sir, and my after-school tutoring, I can’t spend much time helping him. I grade his practice exams and assign him extra problems every day, but he doesn’t seem to be mastering it.”

Headmaster threw a scowl at Neel, who averted his eyes and went back to gathering papers.

“Here’s tonight’s math,” Teacher said, handing Neel a sheaf of papers. “Do the best you can.”

Ajay kept his own voice low. “No use looking in the daytime anyway. She’s probably fast asleep somewhere deep in the forest. Gupta’s men are going to search again tonight, Viju said. That’s when tigers roam about.”
“They’ll be sure to catch her, then,” said Neel, with another pang for the cub. “It’s going to be a full moon in a few days.”

“Maybe she’ll swim back to the reserve,” Ajay whispered hopefully.
“Maybe.” But Neel guessed the cub would be too terrified to venture out of her hiding place, except maybe to scavenge for food.

“Baba,” Neel said on the third evening, ending the heavy silence, “I was wondering something.”
Baba roused himself. “Yes, Neel. What is it?”
“That cub. Don’t you think that you and I could find her—”

It was a full moon, so the whole island would be illuminated with light except for the most dense corners of the mangrove forest.

As he worried over the cub, he could hear his parents talking on the other side of the divider. Even though they kept their voices low, he caught snippets of their whispered conversation.

The waning, still-bright moon had risen high in the night sky by the time they ate.

“So Headmaster was right?” Ma asked incredulously. “You aren't trying? Are you crazy, Neel?”

The sundari trees swayed in the wind. It was almost as if they were beckoning.

“We should try to save Baba,” Rupa said. “He’ll never forgive himself if he’s the one who finds her. But what can we do?”
Neel thought of their father’s grim face. “We can look for that cub ourselves. You and me. Tonight.”

Thanks to the thick bushes and the swamps and muddy banks that bordered the creeks, only small bodies could wiggle into the dry nooks and crannies of the island. She’s got to be in one of these spots! he thought, beginning to calculate the high tide for the night.

Thanks to the thick bushes and the swamps and muddy banks that bordered the creeks, only small bodies could wiggle into the dry nooks and crannies of the island. She’s got to be in one of these spots! he thought, beginning to calculate the high tide for the night.

The goat seemed surprised to see visitors this late, but she relaxed at Rupa’s familiar touch. After a few more soothing words and caresses, Rupa was able to milk her until the pail was more than half full.

On the other side of the pond, guava trees crowded the bank. When the trail faded into dense foliage, Neel handed Rupa the flashlight. “I’m going to hunt around a bit,” he whispered. “She might be in there. Keep the light on me if you can.”

Deep in a ravine carved by the water at the southern tip of the island, past the reach of the tides and through a tunnel of prickly bushes, there was a narrow cave in the big creek’s bank.

This creek was so big it was almost a river. A long, high bamboo bridge spanned it, and dense, prickly foliage grew up the high, steep banks on either side. The only way down was during low tide, when a muddy path near one end of the bridge led to the estuary shore.

Neel had calculated the tides perfectly; the whole path was above water. Moonlight sparkled across the wide, wet shore. Fiddler crabs scuttled here and there, excavating mud to create burrows before the tide came in.

Neel had calculated the tides perfectly; the whole path was above water. Moonlight sparkled across the wide, wet shore. Fiddler crabs scuttled here and there, excavating mud to create burrows before the tide came in.

She set the pail of milk down carefully and gazed up at the bank behind the golpata trees. It rose steeply and was covered by prickly bushes, vines, and bracken. “I don’t see how the cub could hide anywhere around here.”

Neel pushed apart the tall, wide golpata fronds. With a quick glance to make sure the bridge, path, and shore were still deserted, he switched the light on again and angled it against the bank. There it was! The entrance to a long, low open space that twisted through the foliage and led deep into the bank.

He leaned aside so Rupa could see, and heard the sharp intake of his sister’s breath. It was a tiny pugmark. And then another. There may have been others on the bank and in the space behind them, but they would have washed away with the ebb and flow of the tide.

The creek was rising fast, and any traces of their trek would be underwater soon.