Free He: (Shey) (Modern Classics (Penguin)) by Rabindranath Tagore

Ganesh, the elephant-headed god, inscribed the Mahabharata to the poet
Vyasa’s dictation.
    39 cards in Tasmania : in the original, the phrase is a pun on ‘taash’ (the Bengali
word for cards) and Tasmania.
    40 dekha-binti : a card game where one scores extra points by holding three
high-value cards in sequence.

6
    AFTER A TRIP TO THE CIRCUS, PUPU-DIDI’S BRAIN SEEMS INFESTED BY tigers. She often meets tigers, to say nothing of their aunts. Their gatherings liven up only in our absence. The other day she came to ask me if I knew of a good barber.
    ‘What do you want a barber for?’ I asked her.
    Pupu informed me that a tiger had become a perfect nuisance, pestering her about his whiskers. They had become too bushy; he wanted a shave.
    ‘What put the idea into his head?’ I asked.
    ‘Each morning, after Father’s drunk his tea, I give the tiger the dregs left in the cup,’ Pupu explained. ‘That day, when he came for his drink, he caught sight of Panchu-babu. He’s convinced he’ll look exactly like Panchu-babu once he’s had a shave.’
    I said, ‘He isn’t entirely wrong in thinking that. But there’s a problem. What if he finishes off the barber before the unfortunate fellow can finish off the shave?’
    Pupu-didi had a brainwave. ‘You know, Dadamashai, tigers never eat barbers.’
    ‘What!’ I exclaimed. ‘Why not?’
    ‘To eat a barber is a sin.’
    ‘Excellent, we needn’t worry. We’ll take him to the English hairdresser on Chowringhee.’ 41
    Pupu clapped her hands and shrieked, 'What fun! He'd never
touch white flesh, it'd disgust him!'
    'If he does, he'll have to cleanse himselfin the holy Ganga.
But how did you learn so much about the dietary norms of
tigers, Didi?'
     

     
    Pupu-didi smiled sagely. ‘I know everything.’
    ‘And I don’t, I suppose?’
    ‘Tell me what you know,’ challenged Pupu-didi.
    ‘They never touch the flesh of farmers of the kaibarta caste, especially those who live on the western banks of the Ganga. Their scriptures forbid it.’
    ‘And what about those who live on the eastern bank?’
    ‘If they happen to be kaibarta fishermen, their flesh is sacred. Tigers are supposed to eat them by tearing off chunks of flesh with the left paw.’
    ‘Why the left paw?’
    ‘That’s the correct ritual. Their pandits maintain that the right paw is dirty. Mind you, Didi, barbers’ wives disgust them. You see, barbers’ wives paint women’s feet red with alta.’ 42
    ‘What’s wrong with that?’
    ‘Well, the pandits say that alta is a mere imitation of blood. It isn’t real blood drawn by scratching or biting or tearing flesh. Therefore, it’s a dishonest thing to put on. They despise such shady dealings. Once, a tiger entered a turban-seller’s house. There was a tub of magenta dye in a corner. Mistaking it for blood, he happily plunged his face into it. It was fast dye, if nothing else. The tiger’s cheeks and whiskers came up bright red. He went to the densest part of the forest, the region where the tiger-pandits lived. Seeing him, the head tiger, the best mauler among them, exclaimed, ‘What on earth! Why’s your whole face scarlet?’
    ‘Ashamed, the tiger lied, “I’ve just polished off a rhino, it must be the blood I’ve drunk.” His lie was found out. The pandit declared, “I don’t see a trace of blood on his claws.” He sniffed at his mouth and announced he could smell no blood. Everyone
    chorused, “How disgraceful! This is neither blood nor bile nor brain nor marrow—he must have gone to some human settlement and drunk unholy vegetarian blood.” A committee debated the issue. The biting expert among the tigers roared, “He must perform a penance!” And so he did.’
    ‘What if he had refused?’
    ‘Oh, that would have been a disaster! He has five daughters, all keen-clawed and of marriageable age. Even if he tucked his tail beneath his belly, and offered a dowry of twenty-eight buffaloes, do you think he’d ever find