February 2018 Issue

The
BROWN BEAST
SREYA SARKAR
Colonel Bagchi glared at the ruined state of the mesh
he had carefully canopied on a patch of soil with
new seeds. It instantly curdled his early morning
mood. He knew the culprit of course. It was the brown
beast again, living in the woods behind his house, regularly
feasting on the young saplings and greens he was trying to
grow in his garden. He noticed muddy paw marks leading
away from the patch towards the animal’s burrow, giving
him all the evidence he needed.
Brijesh Bagchi was a retired military officer, an ex-colonel,
but people around him addressed him as Colonel Bagchi,
even after ten years of his retirement. He had moved to a
secluded town near the woods just a few miles from Darjeeling,
following his retirement. After spending most of
his life managing insurgencies and upheavals in the northeastern
part of India, he had seen enough bloodshed to
grow a permanent aversion towards mankind. His straight
and sturdy body had not grown tired but his mind had
aged and needed rest. When he moved into the old cottage,
with creaky floors and drafty windows, that he had
bought on a whim a few years ago, his grown-up children
were aghast at the prospect of him living alone. Colonel
Bagchi though was rather obstinate about his decision.
After his wife passed away, he realized that he was not obligated
to spend time with human kinds, but little did he
know that there were creatures other than human beings
that could wreck his world as well. They seemed harmless,
a part of the bountiful nature around him, but now
the squirrels and birds and especially a brown hare—the
brown beast, were proving to be quite a challenge for his
happy existence.
The extra space around his cottage had given him an opportunity
to nourish his gardening skills. He soon went on
from growing easy vegetable plants to Magnolias and Orchids,
the activity giving him a sense of discipline that he
was used to in his career. Colonel Bagchi discovered that
he enjoyed gardening. There was something about touching
the soft wet soil that gave him the satisfaction of doing
something worthwhile with life. He had seen so many people
getting killed in combat that he felt refreshingly optimistic
to see saplings raise their young head from Earth. The green
shoot breaking through the topsoil was a celebration of life
over death, creation over destruction, somewhat like Earth’s
triumph over mankind’s destructive nature.
He muttered under his breath following the paw track with his
eyes. This was the second time this week that the hare had disrupted
his plan to grow his garden. To take his mind off the disturbance,
he rode into the nearest big town with his gardener
to get new seeds from the nursery, along with his daily grocery
and medicines. His pension money was enough to support his
simple lifestyle and that made him feel happy and independent.
The next morning, he caught the brown beast staring at him
with an open audacity. He pretended to concentrate on the
newspaper in front of him but looked at the animal surreptitiously
every now and then. It hopped towards the tomato
patch and started chewing on a low hanging tomato with a
natural ferocity that made Colonel Bagchi fume with indignation.
It was as if the beast was mocking him with his decided
impudence. Such was the degree of his annoyance that he
took out his rifle and cleaned it thoroughly instead of cleaning
his cluttered study, as he had planned to do the night before.
As Ashwini the cook, came to discuss his meals for the day, he
seemed distracted. The grumpy middle-aged cook planted her
hands on her hips and let out an exasperated breath. Colonel
Bagchi was not in a mood to stand yet another soul’s insolence
that morning, so he said quietly, “If you are such a hurry always,
you don’t need to cook at all. You take what I owe you
and disappear for good.”
Ashwini blinked a few times and retreated from her bold
stance. “Something seems to be bothering you. What is it?”
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Ink Drift Magazine 13