A chital herd was grazing in a plain in the woods one summer afternoon. A jeep appeared on the horizon and started to move across the plain, toward the herd.
The chitals stopped grazing and looked intently at this noisy intruder. They were familiar with this strange, two-legged creature and knew it to be harmless for all the noise it made. After all, the forest rangers used the same contraption to patrol the forest to keep poachers and timber smugglers away.
That’s why the herd didn’t run away, though it did keep staring at the jeep. This, however, proved to be a costly mistake, for the men in the jeep were no forest rangers, but a couple of young guys from the nearby town. They had illegally entered the protected area for deer hunting.
The man at the wheel wore a yellow T-shirt and faded jeans. He had on his head a straw hat, held in place by an elastic band that stretched under his chin. Black sunglasses shaded his eyes from the afternoon brightness. He held a cigarette in his left hand from which he puffed every few seconds.
The other man was in proper hunting gear. He wore a khaki shirt and trousers that were narrow below the knees and fluffy above. He sported a hairline mustache. A pair of binoculars hung around his neck. A safari helmet adorned his head. He even had a high-caliber rifle strapped across his shoulders.
‘Stop the vehicle, Bunty. And turn off the engine,’ said Chunky, the man in the hunting gear. As the engine sputtered to a stop, Bunty stepped out of the jeep and moved away a little, into the shade of a tree. Meanwhile, Chunky was closely observing the herd through his binoculars. Now that the jeep had gone silent, the herd wasn’t alarmed anymore. With its guard down, it resumed grazing. A young stag with splendid antlers was grazing alone, away from the herd. Chunky zoomed in on this unfortunate animal.
‘Hmm. A fine specimen. Will do,’ he muttered to himself. He put away the binoculars, took the rifle off his shoulder, and started stalking the deer.
The stag, unaware of the danger, continued to graze placidly. It looked up to see the man approaching it.
Chunky decided that he was close enough to get a good shot as he knelt down on the ground. The grass came up to his shoulders and he was no longer visible to the unsuspecting stag. He took his time as he aimed carefully and waited for the stag to move a step or two closer. And when it did, he squeezed the trigger.
The rifle’s noise echoed in the stillness of the forest. The stag, however, didn’t die. The bullet had just grazed its shoulders, giving it a nasty, superficial wound. It groaned in pain and escaped into the woods, followed by the rest of the herd.
‘Curse my luck,’ muttered Chunky, seemingly frustrated with himself. ‘Bunty, let’s chase them!’
The duo rushed back to the vehicle. Within moments, the jeep left behind a cloud of dust as it pursued the racing deer. The herd, which had had a head start, seemed like a mere speck on the horizon. To make matters worse, the jeep bumped and heaved over the uneven terrain as the two men had a hard time holding onto their seats.
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The two poachers were out of luck that day. The rifle’s sound had alerted the rangers, who immediately showed up in their well-equipped jeep to look into the matter. They spotted the cloud of dust from afar and headed that way. Soon, they saw the culprits’ jeep through their powerful field glasses and sped toward it.
It was Bunty, who saw the patrol jeep first. ‘The rangers are here!’ he screamed, panicky.
Chunky saw them, too. ‘Turn around, turn around. We mustn’t be caught,’ he yelled, putting his rifle away.
Bunty swung the jeep across a U-turn. Chunky almost fell out of the jeep as it turned. He cursed and held on for dear life. Bunty accelerated as he tried to get the jeep to race to safety. The patrol jeep was almost upon them.
‘Faster, faster!’ Chunky cried anxiously.
Bunty stepped on the gas even harder. The jeep careered dangerously on the uneven surface. In his haste, Bunty didn’t notice a large boulder in the jeep’s path. The grass around it made it even harder to spot.
The wheel hit the boulder and the jeep leaped into the air, turning on its back. Its wheel spun pointlessly in the air. Chunky and Bunty came crashing down on the ground.
It was there that the patrol found them. Bunty had broken his left thigh, while Chunky’s right arm was badly bruised and broken. He had used his arm to cushion his fall, severely fracturing it in the process. Their jeep, too, was damaged beyond repair.
The patrol helped the injured men get back up and took them into custody. A long trial awaited them for poaching in the reserved forest.
Meanwhile, the herd had moved deep into the safety of the woods. Its faith in the strange, two-legged creatures and the noisy machine was shattered for good.
The wounded stag limped over to the herd. Its fleeing companions had left it behind. It now stood amidst the herd and gasped in agony. Blood oozed from its wounded shoulder. It hobbled across to the nearby pool and stood in the cool water to lessen its pain and come to terms with the near-death experience.
As fond of writing a good story as he is of reading one, Pravin is one of the most promising writers at Ameya. He can be contacted at pravinkumar2788@gmail.com.