Free A Tiger for Malgudi by R. K. Narayan Page B

have created trouble for Captain at any stage; though law-abiding in a general sense, he had contempt for what he felt were silly objections. This was not the time for one to be finicky. He had to make use of the sprawling Central Jail walls, paint over them his Jubilee messages in giant lettering so that travellers journeying on the highway could not miss them. He had always felt that such walls were going to waste and should be utilized properly. He differed from those whom he considered a bunch of eccentrics, calling themselves Town Arts Council, who were opposed to every kind of announcement and hoarding, never realizing that they were thus cramping our economic life and ultimate prosperity.
    When his plans were opposed, he had his own technique of winning over opposition, a few complimentary tickets (not always for VIP seats; he had a few seats for semi-VIPs and non-VIPs, accommodation in rattan chairs, wooden chairs, and galleries, depending upon the status of those to be favoured). When mere tickets would not work, he donated cash from a fund he had earmarked as ‘Birthday Gifts’ in his account books, and Income Tax rarely questioned whose birthday. He invaded every blank space in town to advertise the Jubilee. Starting with Albert Mission College, as we have seen, to the end of Abu Lane which splintered off from Ellamman Street, the last outpost of Malgudi eastward, every kind of wall, of shops, schools, houses, and hotels, proclaimed the Jubilee of the Grand Malgudi Circus, displaying Rita in death-defying trapeze acts, the chimp riding a motor cycle, the tusker carrying on its back the chimp dressed as a Maharaja with crown and all, a giraffe doing something or the other, and clowns tumbling. At every corner people stood staring at the wall. Even those in a hurry to go to work paused to read the notice. Not a single soul was left in doubt about the coming Jubilee celebrations of the circus. In the same manner the countryside was also informed by the usual team of clowns with extra noise of drums.
    As a result of this publicity, the box office presented an air of a besiegement on the opening day. Every inch of the auditorium was occupied for all the three shows each day — noon, evening and night.
    Captain reserved the tiger’s act for the night show. It came after Rita’s trapeze act, somersaults, and dive through a fire ring. When the tiger was wheeled in and the enclosure was erected around the ring, Captain, dressed in satin breeches and a glittering vest, holding the whip in hand, appeared before the audience in a kind of light skipping movement, bowed to the public deeply in all directions, and introduced, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, you are about to see our Raja perform an act which I have named “Four-in-One” which is actually a symphony in movement as you will notice when the band plays. I have composed it with a lot of forethought. It’s a sequence of precise acts, timed properly, which sense of time is displayed uncannily by Raja. He will go through the act with precision, and finish the sequence as befits a country dedicated to non-violence, with a sip of milk in the company of a goat. I’d now appeal to you ladies and gentlemen to watch this act unwinkingly, keep your eyes open and your nerves cool — never fear for a moment that Raja will ever overstep the bounds in any manner.’
    After this speech, which created suspense and anticipation in the audience, he let me out of the cage, opening the door with his own hand. He carried nothing more than his whip; he had put away even the chair. He wished to demonstrate that he was absolutely confident of his authority over me and had nothing to fear. He cracked his whip in the air twice to start me off. I galloped around the ring, while he watched with a side glance at his stop-watch, keeping himself deftly at a distance just a foot beyond my pouncing range, but always close to an emergency exit. The audience watched in absolute silence without