Sahana’s Yearning Hope

By Madhushri M Mudke

Pip-pip-peep pip!

The call of the Indian cuckoo rang out in the dry, deciduous forests around her. The cuckoo was not visible in the dense, yellow-green canopy, typical of a central Indian forest, covering the bright blue sky above. The sun rays fell on thick Sal leaves, making an abstruse pattern of light and shadow on the muddy forested floor. The floor was laden with dry leaves of numerous other trees, apart from Sal, like Teak, Peepal and Palash. There was a gentle, natural scent in the air. Sahana stood poised under a tamarind tree, binoculars slung around her neck and a notepad in hand. This huge tree was in the centre of the front yard of the forest guest house that she was staying in.

Whenever Sahana visited these forests, she often kept the whole forest guest house, an Indo-gothic bungalow, to herself. This was only possible because of her father’s high rank in the Defence forces. Her father had made a couple of calls, which got her the solitude of the guest house and the company of armed guards keeping her safe. Sahana glanced at the fringes of the building lined with thorny, ornamental Bougainvillea plants. The pink and white petals drifted with the light breeze beneath her feet. After her long birdwatching walk down the forested trail, she had decided to take refuge under the tamarind tree. During her walk, she had successfully spotted a pair of scops owls, Indian hornbills and a mixed hunting party of cinereous tits, small minivets, and a common woodpecker among others. Pausing in her notetaking, she looked up and took a deep breath, marvelling at the tamarind tree that must have been at least a hundred years old. The forest guard who had accompanied her, a man named Bhide, nodded to her and walked past to join others at the back of the bungalow. He signalled to her that he would fetch her tea soon.

Amidst the continuous calls of the cuckoo, Sahana could hear some chatter between the cook, the watchman and Bhide. They were discussing the whereabouts of a male tiger, Makke. A mature tiger had been spotted on the same trail that Sahana had just walked to watch birds. They were muttering among themselves that the tiger had been seen scratching the barks of dry stems of tall trees exactly two days ago.

Sahana overheard one of the cooks saying that he had sniffed a peculiar tiger scent while he was walking towards the guest house early that morning. As soon as he had inhaled the scent, he had rushed to the safe confines of the guest house. She also heard him tell the others that, a long time back, when he was growing up in the hamlets surrounded by big cats, he and his friends had developed skills to identify big cats without actually coming face to face with them. Developing a sense of smell was one such skill that he and most men in his village had mastered. Sahana was unsure what this peculiar scent was all about. But she was reminded of her volunteer days at the zoo where she remembered a distinctive smell of volatile chemicals in the urine of canids - bleurgh! She was sure that this tiger scent that the cook was discussing was probably that of Makke’s urine which he must be using to mark his territory.

As the memory faded, the calm of the forest stole back into her. The continuous background call of the Indian cuckoo made it even better. She found herself smiling at the shooshing of leaves blowing in the light wind as she removed her shoes, sat down, crisscrossed her legs to let them rest and removed the heavy binoculars from her neck. She gently shifted backwards on the stone parapet where she was seated. Despite her contentment, she felt empty inside. As a young, rebellious girl, she had often questioned people why they lived in cities when the forests were full of life. It didn’t occur to her that people longed for company and safety. She didn’t realise that the Indian cuckoo wasn’t enough for others and that unlike her, the armed forest guard wasn’t everyone’s privilege. She knew she was only contemplating a different world, a world that existed only in her imagination. A world that was kind to animals and a world where other people, just like her, would enjoy the company of birds more than the company of their own family members.

She knew that whenever she’d find herself alone, the disquiet would come creeping out. The questions, doubts, the second-guessing came flooding back. Why was she, a young, 25-year-old woman, sitting here all alone in the middle of a forest? What had she done to herself? Was this normal? Where was Nahor and why did he leave her? Why didn’t he marry her? She was furious that she couldn’t control his actions and that she couldn’t bring him back into her life. She missed the way his chiselled face framed in her palms and the way he looked at her. She thought she had meant the world to him. She missed having tea in his garden watching sunbirds in his handmade bird box.

The last, shrill note of the cuckoo rang loudly around her, interrupting her uneasy reverie.

Looking above at the swaying leaves of the tamarind tree, she unfolded her legs and pulled her shoes up over her heels with her fingers. She tapped her feet on the ground after tightening her shoelaces. Picking up the binoculars that were lying beside her, she walked straight into the woods following the same trail she had walked in the morning with the forest guard. Despite clear warnings to not wander unattended in the forest, Sahana walked out of the forest guest house, into the woods. The fresh, mixed scent of herbs and leaves tickled her face.

She couldn’t get Nahor out of her head despite trying to focus desperately on the calling cuckoo. Pip-pip-peep pip, pip-pip-peep pip! The cuckoo was getting louder with every step. She felt as if she was being pushed into a trance. Her brain had impulsively decided she wanted to see the cuckoo. She walked deeper and deeper in the forest, Nahor’s thoughts following her like a swarm of mosquitoes.

As she walked further, she opened her eyes to the thick, brownish leaves of the Sal trees that lined the trail. Her ears heard only the cuckoo’s call. She knew she was on the right path to watch the cuckoo. Even Salim Ali had to climb several watchtowers to document cuckoos in India. She was merely wandering around the forest guest house, she thought. As she tried to control her thoughts, she heard not only the cacophony of the cuckoo but also hurried alarm calls of langurs. Was she the danger that the langurs were suspecting, or had she walked too far into the forest? She was aware that langurs sent alarm signals in the presence of danger. It was likely that one of the langurs had seen her, so he was alerting his troop of a new intruder. If this was the case, Sahana didn’t have much to worry about. She could still look for the cuckoo.

However, if the danger was the big cat, then she must hurry back to the guest house immediately! She wrinkled her nose to try and sniff the tiger scent that she had heard about. She couldn’t smell anything. Still, she decided to turn back. She saw the langurs sitting high up on the tallest branches of the trees. They seemed to be calm now, and she thought that the danger that they sensed must have definitely been her, not the big cat.

Far away in the bush, she heard the cry of a barking deer. Aaaooh! it went. Now, what was that? She looked to her right and squatted a little to peer under the bush to check on the barking deer. She thought to herself that the deer had also probably seen her and ran past, alarmed at her presence. After all, she had read that deer and monkeys sense human beings as predators. In any case, she couldn’t see anything, save for a water hole, full to the brim. It seemed like the forest department’s water tanker had just left after refilling the water in the man-made hole. She turned her eyes on her trail and took a step further towards the guest house. She smiled to herself and walked on.

From behind the bark of a big Saal tree, and the meshed, dry branches of a few Lantana shrubs, Makke approached the water hole.

Sahana froze.

All her distorted thoughts suddenly disappeared. Her mind was racing, and her heart was pounding. She couldn’t breathe anymore. Neither could she smell the foul tiger scent. She couldn’t hear the cuckoo, nor the langurs. She felt numb. She knew she mustn’t move; if the tiger hadn’t seen her, she might be able to walk past him without disturbing him. But she didn’t know if fate was on her side. Is this how she was going to die? Would she make headlines in the local dailies for being killed by a tiger? Would they comment on how a disobedient girl had wandered in the forest?

Sahana’s worst fears flooded her mind. She knew her father would never forgive her. Her mother would throw her hands up in the air in rage.

The tiger had seen Sahana. It was impossible that the tiger wouldn’t see a human standing so close to him. He might have even got a whiff of her cologne except that she wasn’t wearing one today - it must have been the scent of her sunscreen lotion. The tiger walked close to Sahana. She stared him in the eyes and thought of her pet cat, whom she had aptly named Waghoba. For a moment, she wildly thought that the tiger had come so close to her only to affectionately nuzzle her.

***

“Good morning!”

Sahana threw the covers down and turned off her alarm clock. It was Reave who was gently rubbing her cold nose against her mother. She glanced over to the other side of the bed. Mishty was still asleep. Sahana pulled Reave close to her and pressed her lovingly against her breasts.

“Good morning, mamma!” blurted Reave.

“Morning, my angel. Did you sleep well?”, asked Sahana, trying to ignore the way her heart was pounding while breathing in the fresh, heated air from the central heating in the bedroom.

“Yes, very well”, answered Reave. “I was dreaming that I was playing football with the girls’ team.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful! Why don’t you ask dad to drop you at my department today after school? I’ll get you in touch with our University’s football coach.”

“You are so kind. Thank you, mamma.”

Sahana woke Mishty to get her ready for school. Both Reave and Mishty wore their school outfits, packed their bags, and ran to the bus stop. Sahana in the meanwhile had to do the laundry, start the dishwasher, hand wash bigger utensils that were unsuitable for the washer while cleaning the dining, and kitchen area before she could get ready for work. She was so exhausted with the mundane life chores and responsibilities of her family that it was visible on her face. Her dark circles were getting deep and brown, almost competing with her hazel eyes. A single layer of concealer and colour corrector wasn’t enough anymore. She was a bright and beautiful woman, but she didn’t feel the same anymore. At work, she refrained from making small talk with her colleagues. She had completely stopped outings with her friends. She believed this would save her energy and time for her children.

While she was at the kitchen platform wiping the last morsels of food away, her eyes strayed to the window and caught the sight of a pair of American robins. They were probably nesting in her backyard. The robins reminded her of the Indian cuckoo she had dreamt of early that morning. She was drawn back to her days in India when she and Nahor had birdwatched for hours before returning home to his balcony. She was befuddled and she knew it meant trouble. She knew it wouldn’t be easy for her to forget her morning dream, especially because of Nahor’s memories. She didn’t know if it was alright for her, a married mother of two beautiful daughters, to miss someone so desperately.

Nahor was someone who she missed terribly simply because she enjoyed having sex with him. Society wasn’t kind to women, especially mothers, she thought to herself. The feminist movement wasn’t so far ahead that it would talk about the lack of sexual freedom for mothers. Her extreme physical and mental tiredness due to everyday chores only meant more distorted thoughts. Thoughts that she wouldn’t be able to control without professional help. She called Dr Ahiyan and immediately booked an appointment with him.

***

Sahana was swinging right and left on her swirl chair in her lab. She stared at the lush green, mowed lawn of the university campus. Contemplating her early morning delusional presence in the forests of India, she realized that it wasn’t Nahor who she was missing. The forests were calling her. Forests meant an escape from the humdrum of her family life. Back in her twenties, she wanted an escape from her parents and now from her children and husband.

To be in the forests again meant applying for research grants and facing a committee with a majority of men. Senior scientists who’d question her and brutally dismantle her research ideas. She’d have to work twice as hard to get the grant and then finish the fieldwork. All that additional work, along with her teaching duties and taking care of her daughters, was not going to be forgiving towards her. However, if she bagged the grant and got to re-start her research, it would mean a whole new life. Teaching duties would definitely lessen, and she’d be at the forest guest house again. That meant living in the dream that she remembered so vividly. A dream that she could live in reality. Also, going to study trees in India would promise her not only the life her younger rebellious self had, but might also give her a chance to see Nahor again. And that would be enough of a reward for her.

By Madhushri M Mudke