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

them suitors? And then there would be an even greater punishment.’
    ‘What’s that?’
    ‘When he died, no priest would agree to perform the funeral rites. In the end, perhaps, they’d have to call in a wolf-priest from the cane jungles. That would be a terrible disgrace, seven generations of descendants would be unable to hold up their heads for shame.’
    ‘Why have a funeral at all?’
    ‘Just listen to that! Why, his ghost would starve to death.’
    ‘But he’s already dead, how could he die again?’
    ‘It’s even worse, you see! Death by starvation is permissible, but starvation after death is a fearful calamity.’
    This cast Pupu-didi into deep thought. After a while, she asked, frowning, ‘In that case, what does an Englishman’s ghost eat?’
    ‘What he ate while alive lasts him seven lives. But our bellies start rumbling long before we’ve even crossed the Baitarani 43 at the mouth of the underworld.’
    This doubt cleared, Pupu-didi immediately asked, ‘What sort of penance did he have to perform?’
    ‘A tiger learned in the rites of roaring and other tigerish customs decreed he would have to remain in the south-west corner of the square where the shrine of the tiger-goddess stands, from the beginning of the dark lunar fortnight to the middle of the moonless night of Amavasya, feeding only on a shoulder of jackal. Furthermore, the kill could be made by none other than his paternal aunt’s daughter or the second son of his wife’s maternal cousin. Even worse, the tiger could only use his right hind-paw to tear off the flesh. When he heard this awful sentence passed, the tiger’s insides churned. Clasping his four paws in entreaty, he began to howl piteously.’
    ‘Why, what was so awful about it?’
    ‘Good heavens, jackal’s meat! It’s as profane as meat can be! The tiger swore never to repeat his crime. He whimpered, “Feed me a mongoose’s tail, if you will, but not a shoulder of jackal flesh!” ’
    ‘Did he have to eat it in the end?’
    ‘Oh yes.’
    ‘Dadamashai, tigers must be very orthodox in matters of religion!’
    ‘Certainly. Do you think they’d abide by as many rules if they weren’t? That’s why jackals hold them in such respect. If they find a tiger’s half-eaten prasad, it becomes a family heirloom! If the thirteenth day of the month of Magh 44 happens to be a Tuesday, many jackals make a pilgrimage to lick the feet of an old tiger in the depths of the night . They believe this wins them religious merit. Innumerable jackals have laid down their lives in the effort.’
     

     
    Pupu-didi found this hard to swallow. ‘If tigers are so very religious, how can they bring themselves to kill for meat? And eat it raw, for that matter?’
    ‘Oh, that’s not just any old meat. It’s been sanctified by chanting mantras.’
    ‘What kind of mantras?’
    ‘Their very holy snarl-spell. They utter it before they make each kill. You couldn’t call that killing, could you?’
    ‘And what if they forget to chant the spell?’
    ‘The most revered tiger-pandit maintains that if a tiger forgets to chant the spell before it makes a kill, it’ll be reborn as the beast it has killed. All the tigers are scared stiff of being reborn as humans.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘In their opinion, the human body is entirely bald, and quite grotesque. Men can’t even boast of tails! They need wives just to whisk the flies off their backs. They look like clowns, toddling about on two legs—the sight makes the tigers laugh till they cry. The most renowned contemporary tiger-expert on the history and habits of his race says that when Lord Vishwakarma 45 had nearly finished making the world and was running low on materials, he felt a sudden urge to create humans. Let alone paws, he couldn’t even muster a few hooves for the poor creatures—they hide the shame of their naked feet with shoes and of their bodies with clothes. Humankind is the only form of life that suffers from embarrassment. No