Anjali's Christmas Break
It was Christmas Break and Anjali was very excited. For
the first time she was going to travel all by herself in a
plane, without Mummy or Daddy! And she was going to
spend three weeks with Mummy's elder sister, Sushila
Aunty and Dayaram Uncle, who was a big Inspector of
Police. Mummy told her that Dayaram Uncle was an
Inspector General, but that couldn't be quite right for he
was a big police officer, not anybody general. And Sushila
Aunty and Dayaram Uncle lived far away amongst forests,
and she would see lions and giraffes and tigers and hippos!
When the day came for her to fly off, Anjali was a little
scared and clung to her Mummy, who told her that the
flight was only an hour long, there would be big beautiful
girls on the plane to play with her, and before she knew it
Sushila Aunty would be there to take her home for lunch.
Her Aunty's cook had already baked a great big chocolate
cake for her, with pink icing which said: `Welcome Anjali!'
In the car to the airport, Anjali forgot her fears, she was so
excited to be going somewhere. She had on her nice pink
shoes, which Mummy said didn't match her blue frock, but
she was allowed to wear them anyway. Pinned to her right
shoulder was a large piece of paper with her name and
Uncle Dayaram's name, telephone number and address.
Anjali felt really important as Mummy kissed her goodbye
and handed her over to a nice lady, also in a blue dress. The
lady also had a name tag on her right shoulder, and it said
`Puja.'
Puja was very beautiful with bright red lipstick. Anjali
decided that when she grew up, she would also become a
Flight Attendant. She clasped her new friend's hand tightly
and chatted away as she was led to the plane. It was so
exciting! Mummy was right, she had a grand time on the
plane. She was even taken to the cockpit of the plane. A big
handsome man was there. He smelled a bit like Daddy. He
wore a blue jacket with four gold stripes on the arms. Puja
said that meant he was The Captain! He let her hold the
steering wheel of the plane as Daddy did sometimes in their
car, and then she was back in her seat and down the plane
glided to Uncle Dayaram's airport! It was not big and shiny
with a lot of glass like her own airport, but it a nice low
yellow building. Aunty Sushila was standing at the bottom
of the steps as she came out and gave her a great big hug as
she always did. There were policemen in khaki everywhere,
even the driver of the car was a policeman!
The cake `specially baked for her was scrumptious as
Mummy had promised. Happy and sleepy, Anjali was led
to a large room, which was to be her own room while she
stayed with Uncle and Aunty. As she fell asleep for her
afternoon nap she thought it was a perfect holiday, except
that there were no children for her to play with. Once,
Aunty had told her rather wistfully that though she had no
children of her own, she would share Anjali with Mummy,
and Mummy had said, `Yes, do keep her all to yourself!'
but it was said just in fun, for Mummy loved her too much
to give her to Sushila Aunty, she knew.
Uncle and Aunty did not live in an apartment overlooking
the sea as she did back home, but they had a huge old
bungalow in the middle of a large untidy garden. She
wanted to explore the garden all by herself, but Uncle said
a policeman should always be with her to guard her, though
she was quite grown up, almost all of seven, well, six and a
bit really, but she felt grown up, and that was what was
important as Shanti Teacher had told her once. Except for
the flower beds in front of the house, there was nothing
much to see in the garden. Most of it was full of thick
prickly bushes. She was getting quite bored of playing in it
when Uncle announced that they were all going to camp,
where she would see a lot of animals!
Anjali jumped with joy and said she couldn't wait to see
lions and giraffes and hippos. Aunty Sushila laughed, and
hugged her tightly, and said those animals were to be found
only in Africa and not in Indian forests. But she would see
spotted deer, and bison, and any number of birds. Anjali
was quite disappointed for she had seen deer in the zoo and
she knew that bison were just like cows and not much fun.
Aunty brought out a big book and showed her pictures of
all the birds they were likely to see, and what calls they
made, and what their eggs looked like. They were such
beautiful pictures, and Anjali wondered if she could take
home a bird as a pet.
`Maybe, darling, we just might be lucky enough to see a
tiger,' said Aunty brightly.
Anjali brightened up. `Are there ever so many tigers in
camp, Aunty?' she asked hopefully.
Aunty laughed. `Well, I hope not in camp, but they are
bound to be in the jungle. I shall tell your uncle to have you
taken round in a jeep, and who knows you might spot one!
But mind, you will have to get up very early in the morning
while it is still quite dark, and be very quiet, quiet as a little
mouse.'
Anjali plied her with many questions, and Aunty became
quite enthusiastic herself and told her many stories of all
the animals she had seen, and the adventures she had had.
Next morning, they set off for `camp' in a convoy of jeeps
with Uncle looking magnificent in uniform with badges and
ribbons of his chest. He had a pistol in a shiny brown
leather holster buckled to his belt, and though she pleaded,
he refused to take it out. He kissed her fondly and said
pistols were bad things, and definitely not to be touched by
children.
The police camp was very different from the camp Shanti
Teacher had taken her class to. The police tents were huge,
almost as big as a small house, she thought, and inside
there were chairs, desks, tables, carpets, in fact just like a
house! There was a tent for a bathroom, and if you drew
aside a curtain, there were beds to sleep on, just like home!
They were to be there for ten days, almost till it was time to
go home, and Anjali knew she would have a great time, and
see lots and lots of animals.
Ravi Kumar, a nice young Inspector, was deputed by her
uncle to take her round in a jeep to see the animals. Aunty
got her up very early in the morning for her safari. She
packed a basket with half-a-dozen club sandwiches, and a
flask of hot milk for her, and another with tea for the
Inspector. Within five minutes of setting off, the Inspector
had told her with a nice smile to call him `Ravi,' and she
knew they would be great friends. She did see lots and lots
of spotted deer, families of them, on her safari, cute little
fawns, beautiful does with white spots along their shiny
brown flanks, and of course every now and then majestic
bucks with long graceful antlers.
The second morning, Ravi stopped the jeep at a corner of
the jungle road, and pointed out the Barasingha. They were
much bigger than spotted deer, but they looked smaller for
they were very far off in the middle of a jungle pool. She
asked Ravi to take her closer but he shook his head and said
it was not safe to stray far from the roads.
`Barasingha are just big deer, Ravi, they can't harm us, can
they?' she said, trying to persuade him.
He gave her a quiet look and said, `Anjali, there are other
animals out there, much worse, and your Uncle will skin
me alive if I take you into the jungle.'
`What, you mean tigers, Ravi?' she asked excitedly.
He shook his head and laughed. `Oh, I don't care about
tigers much, much worse animals than tigers!'
`Much worse than tigers?' She was bemused.
`Oh, tigers are rather jolly,' Ravi said, changing the subject.
He started the jeep and they moved on again. `Let me tell
you about all the times I have met tigers face to face in the
jungle!'
`Did you shoot them with your pistol?' she asked him.
Ravi looked at her gravely. `It's wrong to kill tigers, or, or
any other wild animal,' he said solemnly. `It's against the
law. If I catch a poacher trying to kill a tiger, I put him in
jail straightaway!'
`Tigers are dangerous!' continued Anjali. `They always tell
us that at the zoo.'
`Yes, they are,' agreed Ravi, `but they don't mean to harm
us. If we respect their ways, they respect ours, and keep
away.'
Anjali was much impressed. She didn't like the thought of
killing animals, and at dinner time always tried to make an
excuse and not eat chicken. She asked Ravi what he did do
when he met a tiger, and Ravi was quite entertaining with
his stories, though Anjali was shrewd enough not to believe
all that he told her.
That evening she went to the cook's tent and hung around
there asking him questions and tasting the kheer he was
preparing for dinner.
The cook was a big jolly man with a huge big floppy
moustache that fell over his mouth.
`Baby Sahib, will you like to make some chapattis for us?'
he asked smiling down.
She clapped her hands. `Yes, I want to make chapattis,' she
said eagerly.
`Then you go over to that corner and Chottelal will show
you how to make them,' said the cook.
Chottelal was a boy, almost double her size, and chocolatey
black. He gave her a wide grin, and showed her how to roll
out the dough. He talked Hindi in a funny sort of way but
she understood most of what he said. He told her that if she
came early in the evening next day he would show her
peacocks. She promised to meet him by four next evening,
and was quite reluctant to stop making chapattis when
Aunty called out to her.
Next evening as the sun was sloping down over the forest
trees, Chottelal took her to the edge of the police camp and
there sitting on top of a police tent was a peacock, a
gorgeous peacock with a bright blue neck and a long
graceful tail. She clapped her hands in excitement and
Chottelal laughed.
`He is tame, is he yours?' she asked.
Chottelal shook his head. `He is free. He likes to come here
in the evening and eat grain from that rubbish heap.'
They watched the bird in silence for a few minutes. Seeing
them get closer, it let out a strange lilting call and lifting its
long tail it flew away slowly into the jungle.
That was how Anjali first made friends with the
chocolatey-black boy. Though he was much bigger than her
and much older, he was the only child in camp, so she
would sit by his side at the cook's tent while he washed
pots and pans, brought firewood for the oven, rolled out
dough, and did other odd jobs for the cook. He told her
many stories about his village in the jungle. He spoke in a
simple matter-of-fact way, even when he told her strange
exciting stories she hardly understood, how he had dodged
the charge of a bison, how his mother had frightened off a
tiger with a firebrand when it wandered into the village one
night. She believed him more than she believed Ravi, for he
didn't laugh at her as the inspector did.
`You mean you can talk to animals?' she asked in
admiration, when Chottelal said something about animal
languages.
The boy smiled and drew a circle in the sand with a stick
before answering. `No, I don't, but I understand a lot of
what they say, and they also I think understand when I call
out.' He shook his head and got up. `I can't explain but it
happens.'
That evening she was late getting back to Aunty for the
cook had promised her a hot sugared muffin the moment it
came out of the oven. He had danced the hot muffin
between his hands to let it cool a little before giving it to
her. It was truly the best muffin she had ever eaten in her
whole life.
She heard her Uncle's angry voice as she neared the tent.
Through the gauze flap of the tent door she saw that he had
taken out his pistol and was waving it about, and
instinctively she shrank back in alarm.
`I tell you I shall finish off the Marxist-Leninist Naxals
tomorrow,' said Uncle Dayaram to her aunt, laying down
the pistol on the table with decision. `Ravi is clever. He's
found out their lair. We will surround it, and damn me if I
don't shoot them dead myself as they sleep! Good riddance
to bad vermin!'
Aunty saw her first and ran forward with a glad cry. But
Anjali saw the warning look she gave Uncle, who merely
frowned as he stuffed back his pistol in its holster.
Normally, Anjali would have asked questions because her
Uncle and Aunty were the friendliest grownups she had
ever met, taking her seriously and answering all her
questions as if she was another grownup. But there was
something about the air that evening and Anjali said
nothing.
What Uncle had said kept troubling her right through
dinner. So, as Aunty was tucking her into bed that night,
she asked timorously, `Aunty, are Naxals very bad
animals?'
Aunty leaned down and kissed her fondly on her forehead.
`Yes, dearest darling, they are very bad creatures. But don't
trouble your head about them. You are quite safe here in
camp.'
Anjali kept on being worried and didn't go to sleep for
several minutes. Ravi had told her it was wrong to kill any
animal and those who did would be sent to jail. But here
was her own uncle who was going to shoot them the next
day. She didn't want any animals to be killed, and she most
certainly didn't want her uncle to go to jail. She was very
unhappy as she fell asleep, and in her dream she saw the
bad Naxals, who were big as elephants with tiger heads and
hippo mouths, creeping up on her poor uncle. She tried to
shout a warning but no sound came from her throat, and she
couldn't run to save him either, she just couldn't move at
all! Then Chottelal ran out between the Naxals and her
uncle and shouted to the animals.
`Go away! Uncle Sahib respects your ways! Go Away!'
shouted Chottelal, and the Naxals turned and lumbered
back into the forest.
She sat up with a jerk. The night was still and dark. She
heard the cicadas chirping peacefully outside the tent. After
a few minutes, Anjali curled back in bed, drew the coverlet
well over her head and went back to sleep.
Next evening, as Chottelal was threading together a garland
of flowers for her, she decided to tell him what had been
troubling her all day.
`Chottelal, you said animals understood you,' she said.
He was sitting on his haunches, carefully threading the
bright red hyacinths and blue cornflowers into a chain. He
smiled at her over his shoulder.
`Sometimes, yes, they understand,' he said.
`Do you know where the Naxals live?' she asked.
Chottelal put down the flowers on a stone and looked at her
without saying a word.
`Uncle is mad at them,' she said slowly. `And, and Ravi has
told him where they sleep at night in their lair Uncle is
going to creep out tonight and shoot them!'
`Did Uncle Sahib tell you that?' asked Chottelal seriously.
Anjali shook her head. `I heard him tell Aunty. I know it's
wrong to shoot animals but he is very mad at them.
Chottelal, tell the Naxals to go away! I don't want my uncle
going to jail, and I don't want any animals hurt!'
Chottelal threw back his head and laughed.
Anjali was cross. `You shouldn't laugh. This is not funny!'
Chottelal looked at her. `Uncle Sahib going to jail is
funny,' he said. `He won't, so don't worry. I will tell the
Naxals to run away. But don't tell anyone else or
something bad may happen.'
Anjali promised. `Are Naxals very bad?' she asked. `I
dreamt last night that they are really tigers but as big as
elephants!'
Chottelal laughed again. `Oh, they are bigger than
elephants,' he said, `and very, very bad. But they will go
away, I promise.'
That night she kept awake for quite a bit. She heard her
uncle and her aunt whispering, she heard Ravi come to the
tent, and then she heard the men leave very quietly. Her
heart was pounding. She hoped that Chottelal would be as
good as his word, and send the Naxals away. She didn't
know when she fell asleep, but it was broad daylight when
she woke up.
She and Aunty had breakfast together. Aunty said
something vague about Uncle being busy. He didn't return
till well past lunch time, and he remained grumpy all day.
Even her special friend, Ravi, had a long sour face, and
didn't take her on a safari. She went to the cook's tent in
the evening to ask Chottelal whether he had sent away the
bad Naxals, but he was nowhere to be seen. The cook told
her the boy had returned to his village because his mother
was unwell.
The next morning, quite early, she heard her uncle shout
orders, and policemen started to strike down the tents. Her
aunt was busy as well packing their things, and closing
suitcases. Soon Anjali was bundled into their jeep and they
were off bumping down the road.
`Where are we going Aunty?" asked Anjali.
`Home, darling, home,' said her aunt cuddling her. `Uncle
has finished his work here.'
`It was all pointless,' growled Uncle Dayaram from the
front. `There is an informer among the orderlies, I am sure.
Wait till I catch him! Some rascal warned the Naxals, I am
dead sure!'
`Hush, not before the child, dear,' said Aunty warningly.
Uncle waved a dismissive hand, and was silent.
Anjali had been on the point of telling Aunty about
Chottelal and what she had asked him to do, but she
realized that Uncle was very, very angry, and she didn't
want her boy friend to get beaten.
Chottelal was right. It was a secret, just between the two of
them, and she would tell no one, not even Mummy when
she got home. But in her heart of hearts she was very glad
that the Naxals had not been shot, and that her kind uncle
would not go to jail.
The End