Chapter 18
The Princess and the Tiger
“Anamika?” I murmured softly. “My name is Kishan. I’m here to rescue you.”
She didn’t respond. I couldn’t blame her really. She didn’t know me. Her brother had said she hadn’t even remembered me from before. Something brushed my shoulder. I wrenched my body back, thinking it was a rat or a spider or some haunting specter bent on my demise, but then I heard the voice of a young boy coming from the cell next to mine.
“Will you save us too?” he asked.
I couldn’t see in the utter blackness of the cellar, but I reached out my hand and found a rail-thin arm and the fingers that had touched me. My heart broke in that moment and I gently took his hand in mine and squeezed it. “I will help all of you,” I said. “I promise you this.”
Though my tiger eyes were gone, I could have sworn dozens of hungry eyes had turned in my direction. I could almost taste their hope, their childlike faith. “You’ll have to be patient with me,” I warned, trying to speak loud enough so they could all hear me but quietly enough not to draw the attention of the guards. “I’ll need some time to figure out how to break us out of here.”
“We’ll wait. And we’ll help you when you’re ready,” the boy near me said.
“Good. You’ll be my captain then,” I told him, reaching out to pat his bony shoulder. That he had been starved to the point of emaciation made my skin hot. I wanted to strangle the man who’d done this to them with my bare hands.
So far, Anamika had said nothing. There was a rumbling on my other side and I realized it came from a child’s stomach. “Shall I tell you all a story of great bravery?” I asked the group.
My purpose was to distract them from their hunger and suffering. It was a trick Kadam had often used on us and it worked very well.
The girl on my left quietly whispered, “Is there a princess in your story?”
“Why, yes,” I answered. “There just happens to be a princess, a very kind one. This story is called ‘The Princess and the Tiger.’”
The children shushed one another so they could hear and I began. “Once, many, many years ago, in a world we have forgotten, there was a special tree. On it grew the most delicious fruit, but the fruit was only to be consumed by the gods. If a mortal took a bite, you see, they would become immortal.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” the girl said.
“Oh, yes, you are right. But you cannot live in the world and be immortal. This is why the feet of the gods never touch the earth. They sit on lotus blossoms and magical carpets. Or they ride on great beasts and float in the air. Anyone, even a god, who eats the fruit with their feet touching the ground will suffer the consequences.”
“What happens to them?” the boy asked.
“Their bodies are consumed and they become pure light. Once that happens, the gods use them for their own purposes, for they can no longer roam the earth. Anyone who came upon them would burn up in their fire. Despite this fact, many men stole the immortal fruit and made the mistake of eating it with their feet on the ground. This is why there are so many stars.”
“You mean each person caught by the gods became a star?”
“That is right. The gods put them high up into the sky to give light to the world in the darkness.”
“That’s a lot of people!” the girl said.
“Yes. Well, despite the risk, there were many who sought immortality, and the sky was becoming overcrowded with stars, so the gods decided to do something about it. They formed a tiger—the very first one in the world—and they placed him beneath the tree to guard it. Any man who came to steal the fruit would be eaten by the tiger first.”
“I’m afraid of tigers,” the boy said.
“Tigers are fierce and powerful,” I said with a smile and sat back against the wall, crossing my legs one over the other. “You are right to be cautious around them. But this tiger, the first one, was different. Though he was supposed to eat those who came to the tree, he didn’t like the taste of mortals. He didn’t kill for food anyway because his body didn’t need it.
“The tiger enjoyed hunting, but his duty was to protect the tree so he never left it for long. Most people were frightened enough that they didn’t even try to get the fruit once they saw him. You see, he had a fierce roar and the sharpest of claws. When people came, he showed his teeth and tore at the ground. Most of the time, that was enough.
“Some men tried to trick the tiger, but he was very smart and no one had ever gotten the better of him, though many had tried. Most tigers have a great sense of hearing and even better smell, but this one could hear the birds singing on distant mountains. When a storm approached, he could predict the moment it would stop.
“He could crouch down and hide in the grass or in the leaves of a tree and make himself invisible. You’d never see him until it was too late. In most cases, his fearsome posturing proved successful and the people who came close ran away in fright. This was what he preferred. But in some cases, the mortal proved too stubborn and he would be forced to kill the offender. Instead of eating him like the gods wanted, he dragged the bodies to a large ditch far away from his tree. That way he wouldn’t be diverted by the smell of their rotting corpses.
“Sometimes he failed, and a mortal would grab a piece of fruit from the tree and bite into it before he could stop them. When that happened, all he could do was watch as the mortal turned into light and the gods descended to escort the person to the heavens. Each time that happened, the gods punished him by giving him a lash from their fiery whip. This is how the first tiger got his stripes.”
I heard an audible gasp from the children. It was surprising they’d never heard the tale before. Biting my lip, I paused, wondering if me sharing the story now was how it originated in the first place. Kadam would have a fit if he knew. I sighed, wondering if I’d made a mistake by telling them, but then the boy asked me to please continue and I willingly obliged.
“Okay. As I was saying, this tiger was the first, and as the first, he had been created with no stripes. He got his stripes as punishment by the gods—one for each mortal who turned into a star.”
“I thought this story had a princess,” the girl said.
“I’m just getting to her part,” I answered. The two children whose cells butted up against mine had drawn close. I could hear the raspy breathing of the boy and the quiet breaths of the little girl. So far, I’d heard not a single sound coming from Ana’s cell. It worried me that she was so quiet. It wasn’t like her at all. “So,” I continued, “one day, a princess came to see the tiger.”
“Was she beautiful?” a child a few cells down asked.
“She was breathtaking. In fact, the tiger had never seen a creature more lovely. At that point in his long life, he only had a few stripes on his hindquarters and he was a bit embarrassed by them, so he kept his back hidden in the grass, not that she could see him if he wanted to remain hidden, but a tiger does have his pride to consider.
“When the princess approached, the tiger despaired, thinking he’d have to kill her. What was interesting, though, was that the girl’s eyes weren’t on the tree at all but on the tiger. That she could see him where he hid in the grass, tail twitching, was surprising since most mortals couldn’t see him at all unless he allowed it. The tiger felt an overwhelming desire to meet the girl. He stuck his nose out of the grass first, then his face, and he stopped and sniffed the air. There was no one else around.
“The tiger took one step toward the girl and then another. She gasped at seeing his size, for he was large even by tiger standards, but there was no fear in her eyes. In fact, she held out her hand and sank to her knees. The tiger looked at her outstretched hand and blew his breath on it softly.
“She spoke. ‘Mighty tiger,’ the girl said, ‘I do not come to steal that which you protect. Instead, I come to beg you not to take the life of my brother.’
“The tiger didn’t know what to make of this. ‘Your brother will come here?’ he asked.
“Trembling, the girl answered, ‘Yes. Our father, the king, is suffering and will die soon. He has decreed that my eldest brother be crowned the next king immediately if he can return with a fruit and grant my father immortality.’
“The tiger sat. ‘I see,’ he said. ‘Do you know what happens when a man eats the fruit?’
“She replied, ‘Yes. My father knows what happens. He longs to ascend to the heavens so that he might watch over his kingdom forever.’
“The tiger considered. ‘I have never seen anyone take a fruit and not bite into it themselves.’
“Straightening her spine, the princess said, ‘My brother is an honorable man. He does not seek immortality for himself but for my father.’
“The tiger was moved by the plea of the princess, especially when she reached up and stroked his neck, for it is a well-known truth that tigers enjoy nothing more than to be massaged on the ruff of their necks.”
“What did he decide?” the boy asked.
“Well, the tiger thought about it and decided that he liked the deference the princess showed to him. He also liked the kiss on the top of his head she gave him when he told her he would allow her brother to take a fruit. The tiger thought it was worth a stripe on his back to help a dying king and his beautiful daughter.”
“Did it work?” the girl queried.
“Unfortunately, no. The prince got a fruit easily enough. But on his return journey, he gave in to temptation and ate it himself. Immediately, he turned into light and was caught up by the gods and placed into the sky.
“The tiger got a long lecture and another stripe. It was still red when the princess came calling again. This time it was for the second-eldest brother. Again, the tiger allowed the prince to come, and once more, the young man tasted the fruit before giving it to his father.
“When the princess returned and saw the second stripe, still raw and pink, that she had caused, she wrapped her arms around the tiger and wept. The tiger rather liked the girl’s arms around him and he decided to forgive her. Then she said, ‘I hate to ask this of you but I have another brother. Will you allow him to come?’
“The tiger sighed, but he had started to enjoy his visits with the girl. ‘I will allow it,’ he said. ‘If you agree to stay with me the rest of the day.’
“Quickly, the girl agreed and the tiger passed the day in the most pleasant way he’d ever experienced. He even laid his head in the girl’s lap and napped as she ran her fingers through his fur. When the sun went down, he begged her not to leave. He was afraid that another predator, one who liked the flesh of mortals, might hurt her.
“She agreed to stay and slept by his side that night. After she left the next morning, he was miserable. He paced back and forth unhappily as he pondered the thought that he might never see the princess again. The third prince came and the tiger allowed him to take a fruit. He felt wrong to hope that the boy would follow the examples of his elder brothers, but hope he did. He was guiltily happy to discover that his hopes had been fulfilled and readily accepted another stripe even as he watched for her familiar form on the winding road. The tiger leapt from the grass, truly joyful to see the princess again.
“The girl slumped to the ground, sorrowing over the loss of her brothers. ‘I thought they were honorable,’ the girl mourned.
“Attempting to comfort her, the tiger said, ‘I am sorry. I wish there was more I could do to help.’ There was, of course, more the tiger could do to help, but to do so was something that would anger the gods. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on your perspective, the princess had six more brothers. Each time one came, the tiger allowed him to take a fruit. Each time, the prince took a bite and failed in his quest. And each time the princess returned, he agreed that another could try if she stayed with him. He persuaded her to spend more days with him on each visit.
“The days they spent together were the finest the tiger had ever known. He hunted for the princess and brought back branches bursting with ripe berries. The tiger showed her the best spots to nap in the sunshine and where to find the sweetest water. The princess seemed as happy to be with him as he was with her. It was with great regret that they parted company after their weeks together and the tiger mourned her each time she journeyed home.
“When there was only one brother left, she came one last time. She knelt, wrapped her arms around the tiger, and wept into his fur. By that time the tiger was in love with the girl, for they had spent many weeks together to fulfill the bargains he had made. His heart broke, for he had nothing to give her. No token to show her the depth of his affection. But then the tiger thought of his secret, and he knew there was one thing he could give her that would mean more to her than anything else.
“He was forbidden to tell her his secret, but he hated seeing her so despondent, especially when he knew how happy it would make her to save her last living brother. In defiance of the gods and knowing it would mean more stripes across his back, he said, ‘Your brothers were honorable.’ He sighed. ‘It was not their fault that they ate the fruit. Once the fruit touches the skin, it works its magic on mortals. If that person does not take a bite, the pressure becomes so intense it’s almost painful to resist it.’ Shifting so the girl could stroke his back in the right spot, the tiger rubbed his head against the girl’s shoulder. ‘I am sorry I had to keep the information from you,’ he said.
“The princess cried over her lost brothers and, when she recovered enough to speak, replied, ‘You must not blame yourself. I see how much you’ve suffered for my brothers, and I know you will suffer more for telling me the truth.’ She traced her fingers over the stripes on his back that had turned black over time. He shuddered with pleasure at her touch. ‘If you will allow it,’ she said, ‘I will warn my youngest brother so he does not touch the fruit with his hands.’
“The tiger agreed and despaired, knowing this was the last time he would ever see her. When she asked how long she must stay with him this time to gain his favor, he said, ‘I will not require you to stay, but if you are inclined, think of me once in a while and know that I will think of you every day of my long and lonely existence.
“She kissed his head again and again and, with fresh tears coursing down her cheeks, took her leave of him. Soon the youngest brother came, the last son of the king. He carried a rucksack and wore gloves, and while the tiger watched from the grass, the boy carefully sought a place to pick a fruit from the tree. Unfortunately, the lower branches no longer had any fruit to pluck since his brothers had taken them all. Because of this, the young man was forced to climb the tree. As he did, his bare wrist grazed a fruit, though he did not notice.
“With prize in hand, he departed, a broad smile on his face. The tiger honestly hoped the boy would make it back. That he would live, become the king, and care for his sister, but it wasn’t meant to be. Within the span of a few days, the gods appeared and gave him a lash for the boy plus a dozen more for telling the girl the secret of the fruit. He accepted the stripes gladly, for they distracted him from the pain in his heart.
“One day, he lay there healing, and he heard a sound. It was a far-off, familiar footstep. It was his princess. He raced back and forth, thrilled at the prospect of seeing her again. The heart in his chest beat thunderously at the notion that she had missed him as much as he had missed her. As she came down the path, he rushed toward her, unwilling to wait even a moment longer, but when he approached, he saw her downturned eyes.
“‘Princess!’ he cried. ‘What has happened?’
‘“My last brother has failed,’ she said, her expression ripped and wounded like papered window screens after a storm. ‘The burden of bringing the fruit to my father now falls to me, but I fear I will be too late to fulfill his final wishes. My father sees the ghosts of our ancestors circling him. Each moment, they draw closer, calling to him with the cries of carrion birds.’ Stiffening her back proudly, she asked, ‘Great tiger, will you allow me to take a fruit? If I am successful, I will return to you upon my father’s death and stay with you the rest of my days.’
“Immediately, the tiger responded, ‘Of course you may take a fruit, but you must be extremely careful. We will go together and you will stand on my back so your feet never touch the ground.’
“‘Thank you, my friend,’ the princess said.
“Though the tiger felt the word friend crumple him as effectively as if he were a scrap of parchment to be wadded in a ball and tossed over one’s shoulder, he stayed right on the heels of the princess, determined not to lose her. When he chose just the right spot, he cautioned her once again not to let the fruit touch her skin and bid her stand on his back. When she was secure, she lifted a gloved hand and pulled a glowing fruit gently. It detached from the tree with a slight snap of the branch, and the girl hastily put the fruit into her haversack.
“‘Is all well?’ the tiger asked as she stepped down from his back.
“‘I believe so,’ the girl replied.
“‘Are you certain the fruit did not touch your skin?’ the tiger admonished, tail twitching nervously.
“‘I am sure.’
“‘Then I will accompany you to the edge of my territory,’ the tiger said.
“Together, they walked down the path, the sack bumping the girl’s hip. Not knowing what to say, the two of them were silent. When they reached the border where the girl would depart from his lands, she knelt and stroked his face. ‘I promise I will return,’ she said. ‘Watch the horizon for me.’
“The tiger sighed heavily, feeling as hollow and dried up as a corn husk after harvest. ‘I will,’ he promised, but just as she took her first step away from him, leaving the area he guarded, the ground shook and the princess fell to the ground. Thunder boomed above them and a bolt of lightning hit the space between them, blackening the soil. Electricity crackled, trammeling them so there was no escape.
“Another lightning bolt struck, and with it came the odorous sizzle that meant a god was present. The tiger grimaced, his whiskers raised. ‘Tiger!’ a sonorous, bass voice boomed. Trees behind the princess split down the middle, both sides crashing as she sobbed.
“The tiger could do nothing but kneel and stare at the bare feet that stood in the air above his head. He steeled his spine for the stripes he knew would come. ‘You have betrayed us for the last time,’ the god declared. ‘What you have done has not served this girl or her father. It has only resulted in you extinguishing your own authority. For this, you will be punished.’ The god turned to the princess. ‘You, mortal girl, you will take the fruit out of the sack and bite into it.’
“‘No!’ the tiger shouted. ‘Please! Give me more stripes. Destroy me! But I beg you, do her no harm.’
“‘Foolish tiger,’ the god said. ‘This is not her punishment but yours. She will find comfort in the icy night sky as her body burns. Her light will be used to guide others and she will have her foolish brothers to keep her company.’ He turned to the princess. ‘Your father is already gone,’ he told her callously. ‘There is nothing left for you here.’
“‘But I am here,’ the tiger said. ‘I love her. I will take care of her. Please don’t make her sample the fruit.’
“‘And does she feel the same for you, tiger? Look at the stripes adorning your back and try to convince me that one who loves you allowed that to happen.’
“The princess stood there, fingers clutching her bag and tears raining down her cheeks. Her face had gone white, as light as the underbelly of the full moon, but her eyes were dark and filled with sorrow. The soft sigh she expelled through her pretty mouth when she looked at the tiger pierced his heart, impaling him so he couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe.
“‘I do love him,’ she said quietly, her voice as smooth and fine as silk. Her words stitched up the tiger’s split heart. ‘I will gladly suffer his punishment.’
“‘I see,’ the god said. ‘Very well, get on with it then. Take a bite.’
“The tiger’s whole body rumbled as he roared, ‘No!’ but the determined princess dug through her pack and lifted the fruit to her mouth.
“‘I am sorry for the pain I’ve caused you,’ she said to her beloved tiger. ‘Please forgive me.’
“With that, the girl took a bite and gasped as the light of immortality slowly filled her frame. The forgotten fruit rolled out of her hands and crossed over the border to where the tiger sat in his invisible prison. The desperate tiger leapt on the fruit and gobbled it up, swallowing what remained whole. Because he was an unusual tiger and already immortal, the fruit affected him differently than the others.”
“What did it do?” the girl nearby asked.
“It changed him. Great wings erupted from his back, and before the change in the princess was complete, he broke the barrier the god had placed upon him and scooped her up. She grabbed on to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. By then, her whole body gleamed with light, and before the god could stop him, he leapt into the sky, his great wings carrying them both higher and higher until they disappeared among the stars.”
I paused for a moment to listen to the children. A soft, “Oh!” came from the boy next to me. “What happened to them?” he asked me.
Shrugging in the dark, I said, “No one knows. Some people think they roam the great river of stars in the sky. Others say they see them when a star falls or streaks across the sky. But all agree that they are still together.”
My story over, I scooted down in my cage, resting my head on my arms. “Best get some sleep,” I said to the children. “Morning will come soon enough.”
Soon it was quiet and I listened to the soft breathing of the children around me. My eyes closed and I’d almost drifted off to sleep myself when I heard a small sound coming from the cage across the cellar. It was Anamika. In a voice barely discernable, she said, “I wish a tiger would take me away too.”
I’m here, Ana, I said in my mind, hoping some part of her would hear me. I’m here.