“The sudden splash of my fall was followed by her sudden scream and she rushed half-draped towards the hut holding her other clothes in one hand and her slippers in another.”
Our engineering surveying camp during our sixth semester at IIT Kanpur began in December when we were sent to the Himalayan foothills in the northeast. We stayed in the hostels of an agricultural university about 50 kilometers from Imphal. The campus was a beautiful landscape, surrounded by hills and valleys, with a small stream flowing through the valley. We were strictly instructed not to venture into the adjoining forests due to the presence of hill leopards and venomous snakes. But how could a trio like me, Mohak, and Kunal resist a misadventure?
We arrived at the university camp at 6 AM on December 10th. By the afternoon, we were deep in the dense jungles next to the university. The thrill of carving our own path through the thick vegetation had taken us a long way from the campus. Our destination was a small green hut on a distant hilltop. After hours of pushing through thorny bushes, we realized we were still a long way from the hut. We had underestimated the distance and the time it would take to cross the valleys. It was already too late to return to the campus by evening. Kunal became apprehensive, and as the sun began to set, the fear of wild animals loomed. We could see his fatigue in the way he dragged his body along the hillside.
We decided to abandon our target and return to the campus, but we had already lost our way. As far as we could see, there were only thick forests. Our only option was to keep moving in one direction until we reached a road or a village.
Just as we crossed a stream, we heard the roar of a leopard. All three of us nearly had a nervous breakdown. We saw a yellowish-brown animal hustle across a tree just a few meters away. We looked at each other, gestured to run as fast as we could, and the marathon began. We ran for half an hour without looking back. When I finally thought of stopping to catch my breath, I realized Mohak and Kunal were missing. I was all alone. I had lost them while running—they had rushed off in a different direction.
Fear began to grip me. Not a single ray of sun could penetrate the dense canopy, and it was already approaching dusk. I had to keep moving; standing still was not an option. Each small step I took sounded like a firecracker in the silent forest. I tried to call them, but my phone showed no network. A few moments later, it died. I hadn’t charged it in over a day due to our night journey.
After walking for another hour, I heard the bleating of goats. I rushed in the direction of the sound and found an open, cleared patch of land. There was a green pasture and a small village on the other side, including the green hut we had targeted. I had finally reached it, but Mohak and Kunal were nowhere to be found. I was worried about their safety, hoping they had somehow made it back to the campus.
Lost in thoughts about their well-being, I approached the straw-laden hut and knocked on the wooden door.
A beautiful young tribal girl, around twenty years old, appeared from inside. She was dressed in a red blouse and a yellow skirt, and her hair was adorned with long thorns that looked like knitting needles. She didn’t say a word, her light brown eyes and moving eyebrows seemed to ask what I was doing there, and her orange lips looked like they wanted to say something.
I tried to explain: “I’ve lost my way. I’m from Kharagpur, and my college students are camped at Nauni Agricultural University. Can you tell me the way back to the campus?”
Before I could finish, she rushed back inside. A few minutes later, she reappeared with an old bearded man holding a bamboo basket. I explained the entire situation. He told me it was impossible to go back to the campus that evening since it was already dark and leopards came to drink by the stream at dusk. He promised to take me back the next day and asked me to stay in their village until dawn.
Though worried and uncomfortable hearing this, I had no choice but to spend the night with the tribe. I was also afraid of what the professors would do, as they had given strict instructions not to leave the camp.
My Stay in the Hamlet
It was already twilight, and the girl prepared some dinner for me. The aroma was incredibly strong. I took a bite of the chapati, which seemed to be made from some kind of grass, and the soup was delicious.
Curious, I asked her, “This is so tasty! What is the soup made of? I’ve never had anything like it before!”
Before she could answer, her father replied, “My daughter is an awesome cook, better than her mother. Look how nicely she has made that snake soup.”
I coughed out all the soup I had just swallowed. Who on earth drinks snake soup? I started to feel strange sensations in my stomach as I heard his words.
The old man continued, “You’re coughing, have some water. These rat testes always get stuck in your throat.”
It was unbelievable! I felt sick and nauseated just listening to the recipe. I had just consumed rat testes dipped in snake soup.
I got up from the dining area and told them my stomach was aching and I couldn’t eat anymore. I also told them I had been a vegetarian my whole life and just needed some sleep. The girl sensed my discomfort, got up, and brought me a soft cake on a leaf plate. She mixed some milk and jaggery into it and handed it to me.
“This is made of oats,” she said. “It’s completely vegetarian. You can eat it.”
I ate the oats, and they were amazing.
“How did you make it? Please tell me the recipe. I’ll ask my mother to make it for me. This is better than the ready-made ones!” I said.
Once again, her father chimed in: “See, I told you she’s an awesome cook. To prepare this oats cake, you have to grind the oats into a powder. Then you put the powder in a bowl of goat’s urine to make a paste. Once it’s sun-dried, you need to bake it on cow dung. The sweet aroma comes from a spray made of bat’s blood.”
This time, I couldn’t control my vomit. I rushed outside the hut and threw up everything I had eaten. Both the father and daughter rushed out and, seeing me panting, brought me a mug of water. I gulped down more than two liters and told them clearly, “I can’t eat now. I’m just too fatigued. I need to sleep immediately.”
They looked at each other and understood my problem. The old man arranged a wooden cot with a bed made of jute fibers and placed it in the open, fenced yard outside his hut.
He said, “Our hut is too small for three people, and you are a stranger. I have a young daughter, so I can’t let you sleep inside the hut. But don’t worry, you can sleep comfortably in this yard. The leopards usually don’t cross the fence unless they get the smell of goats. I’ve tied them behind the hut for tonight.”
I had nothing to say. I knew he had left me to sleep and survive based on the goodwill and judgment of leopards. It all depended on whose smell the leopard found more appetizing—mine or the goats’.
The young lady once again seemed to understand my predicament. She was a sensible girl, but she was helpless. She brought a jute blanket from inside, gave me a large wooden lathi (stick), and said, “You can use this in case of a leopard attack.”
I looked at her, astonished by her “wisdom.” How could I possibly fight a leopard with a stick?
She added, “If you sense any danger, please shout loudly.”
The old man added, “Yes, why not? After all, you are our guest tonight. We will ensure your safety.”
They both went inside the hut and bolted the wooden door. I lay down on the cot, wondering if it would make any difference to them if a leopard ate me instead of their goats.
I covered myself with the coarse blanket under the star-studded, dark sky. It was a full moon, and the hills were covered with a golden hue. The green pasture was visible all the way to the other end. I was unable to sleep due to fear and anxiety. I could hear the intermittent growls of wolves. Even the goats’ bleating sounded like a roar, and I wished they would just be quiet enough not to attract leopards that night.
Due to fatigue, I finally fell asleep around 3 AM.
I woke up when the sun was overhead. There were no goats around, and I wondered if the leopard had come last night. But no, they had been released into the wide pasture to graze. I had to get back to the campus immediately. I rushed into the hut to look for the old man, but the door was unlocked, and no one was inside.
Searching for them, I wandered into the valley behind the village. There was a small waterfall. Mesmerized by its beauty, I kept walking in that direction without realizing the young girl was bathing there. I didn’t notice her until I was close enough to see her fair, curvy, bareback. For a few moments, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was pouring water over her silky, spotless body, and it looked as if the water was meandering over a white marble floor.
I decided to silently walk back to the hut before she saw me, but I stepped on a slippery patch of mud and slid all the way to where she was bathing.
The sudden splash of my fall was followed by her scream. She rushed half-draped toward the hut, holding her other clothes in one hand and her slippers in the other. I dragged myself out of the water and started walking toward the hut to explain what had happened. But something else was waiting for me.
Hearing her scream, her old father and some other villagers rushed toward me. The girl narrated what had happened. I pleaded my innocence, trying to explain that I was unaware she was bathing there and that it was an unintentional mistake. But the tribesmen were not willing to listen. They decided the matter should be referred to the king for my punishment.
Two of them came forward, tied my hands behind my back, and led me through a narrow, cleared lane in the dense jungle where a wooden throne was placed.
To be continued…
