Free Second Lives by Anish Sarkar Page B

and animals and snakes in their natural habitat. I never felt scared. Even when I came face-to-face with a leopard once. I remember backing away slowly. The majestic beast watched me indulgently until I was out of sight. It was an unforgettable experience.
    I have this instinctive connection with animals. They sense that I mean no harm. I recall approaching a solitary chital one morning in a wooded valley near our summer home in Kumaon. I spoke to it in a low, soothing voice. It actually allowed me to get near enough to pat it. Something almost unheard of with these shy deer.
    When I was twelve years old, my mother took me to an exhibition of a well-known nature photographer. I was amazed to see the beautiful images from around the world. There was one stunning picture of a pack of antelope fleeing from a lioness on the African savannah. It was shot in silhouette against the setting sun.
    I knew immediately that this was my calling. Wildlife photography is not just about an expensive camera. It needs good jungle craft. The ability to stalk the subject and understand its behaviour. Remain concealed for hours in a hide, waiting. I had all those skills in abundance.
    My father would have none of it. ‘You must be out of your bloody mind!’ he thundered, when I told him. ‘A hobby is a hobby. Don’t try to make a living out of it.’
    And so I was forced to join the National Defence Academy. After clearing a surprisingly difficult entrance exam. The course wasn’t too bad. I actually enjoyed the curriculum. It was an even mix of general and military subjects. The physical training was gruelling. I pushed myself harder than most. If we were asked to run five miles, I would run six. When we went to the shooting range, I would beg for a few extra rounds of practice. During the navigation training in the jungles around Khadakwasla, I was so fiercely competitive that the instructors would reprimand me.
    In hindsight, I was perhaps providing an outlet for my pent-up sexual energy. I had graduated from high school with my virginity firmly intact. Despite several desperate attempts to lose it. I remember my awkward efforts at courtship. The numerous rebuffs. One definite missed opportunity (if only I had recognised it for what it was back then). My insane jealousy at many of the other boys. Who managed to get laid so easily.
    My final year at the NDA was momentous. I finally had sex for the first time.
    It was the summer vacation. I was bored after three weeks at home. For some reason, we had decided not to go to Kumaon that year. Most of my friends were away. I had no one to hang out with. One evening, my mother asked me to drop off boxes of homemade sweets to some of the neighbours. It was the time of the New Year for our community. I would have normally protested against such a mundane errand. But there was nothing better to do anyway. I wheeled out my cycle and went on my way.
    The last delivery was at the house of an old Army buddy of my father’s. He had a son around my age. I used to play with him when we were younger. But I hadn’t met him in years. I figured it would be nice to catch up, if he was around. I rang the bell and waited.
    After several seconds, the door opened. A girl poked her head out and said, ‘Yes?’ I introduced myself. Pointed to the red box I was holding in my hand. She exclaimed, ‘Neel? My God, you’ve grown up so much! Come on in.’
    I had a vague memory of my friend’s elder sister. A tall, gawky female with glasses. But this was an attractive, curvaceous woman. She was wearing a kimono-like satin robe. Her hair was damp from a shower. She led me to the drawing room. I couldn’t take my eyes off her pert bottom swaying under the red silk. We sat down on an ancient sofa. There appeared to be no one else home.
    She asked me a lot of questions. I answered mechanically. Trying my best not to stare at the ample cleavage peeking out from the folds of the robe. She must have realised I was ogling. A