The Soul of the Rhino (2 of 2 free samples)

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COPYRIGHT
The Soul of the Rhino by Hemanta R. Mishra. Copyright 2008 by Hemanta Mishra.
All Rights Reserved. Sharing not permitted.

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1
CLOSE ENCOUNTERS WITH THE UNICORN KIND

I sat fretfully on the back of Mahendra Gaz, a big male elephant in his twenties. Oblivious to my anxiety, this mature elephant trudged through the riverine forests of Chitwan as the sun was sinking over the distant hills. As we approached the Rapti River, lapwings cried stridently, cutting through the cooing of doves and the twittering of forest birds. Orange oak leaves, peacock pansies, rose windmills, and myriad other butterflies bobbed and fluttered silently as they sought moisture from damp patches of earth.

We crossed the river and reached a small meadow in the middle of the jungle. We waited there, silently, for wild animals to emerge into the open. From atop the elephant, I spotted a female bear stumbling out of the bush, following her nose toward a termite mound. A young cub, wonderfully camouflaged on her back, held on anxiously for dear life. The mother bear ripped the anthill with her long claws. With her cub clinging precariously on her back, she licked and sniffed inside the big hole in the mound, trying to suck up the insects with her extensile tongue.

While I watched the bears, a group of wild boars trotted by and melted into the brush on the other side. In the distance a wild hen called "kukuri caa." The bear suddenly stood on her hind legs to expose a big white V-mark on her mangy chest. The sight thrilled me. It was the first time that I had seen a wild bear. She was much bigger than I had imagined, almost six feet tall. Standing on her hind legs, the bear focused her eyes on the edge of the bush where a pair of hog deer stole nervously into the meadow. The deer sized up the bear and then continued grazing, their ears and torso twitching spasmodically. With no danger in sight, the bear dropped her forefeet and continued tearing into the mound. Soon a herd of chital deer, two female sambar deer, and a barking deer also made their appearance. The meadow was a favorite picnicking ground for Chitwan's wildlife.

Suddenly, two rhinos snorted and tussled out into the clearing. The deer stopped grazing. The bear ran for cover. I stared, transfixed, at these prehistoric pachyderms. It was my first sighting of rhinos in the wild. Ugly and vicious, yet, for all their physiognomic anomalies, they radiated an undeniable appeal. Grotesque, yet elegant; cloaked in the unique regalia of brownish gray, armor-plated, hairless skin covered with tiny warts. Clumsy and misshapen, yet lithe and graceful. Their sight frightened me, but I could not turn away. I was spellbound.

Hidden behind a cluster of Bhelur trees, safely ensconced on the broad back of a government elephant, I watched the two-ton creatures scuffle and snort. Their actions seemed purposeful. Shifting, gently shoving, and encircling one another, they spun in endless circles as they trotted behind one another. Huffing, puffing, and grunting "dhurr dhurr!" hoarsely, the larger male restlessly followed the female. Whistling "kuiee, kuiee!" in unchanging tones, the female jogged gracefully in front. The female seemed to be taunting the male with a gesture of "catch me if you can."

At twenty-two, I was fresh out of forestry school in Dehra Dun, India. Although any novice could have read this persistent prodding of the female rhino as sexual foreplay, I was too struck by awe and curiosity to realize that. I was not sure if the male was trying to kick, bite, or gore the female. His wide-open mouth dripped pools of saliva and exposed big sharp incisors on his lower jaw. His tail swayed gently, and his eyes were glued to the female's rear end. He caught up with the female, and then, raising his forelegs, he made a feeble attempt to mount her.

"Are they fighting over territory?" I asked Tapsi, my sullenfaced elephant driver. His leathery face was lined with the authenticity of jungle lore, a hallmark of a lifetime of exposure to the hot, humid subtropical forests of the Nepalese Terai.

"They are not fighting, city boy," he laughed disdainfully, displaying a jagged row of rotten teeth. "They are trying to mate," he added, spitting a barrage of obscenities.

My academic inadequacies proven for the moment, I did not respond but continued to watch the rhinos. The huffing, puffing, grunting, and whistling foreplay continued until, after several futile attempts, the male finally mounted the female. The female then moved forward, dragging the reluctant male on his hind legs. In this strange mating ritual, they tangoed around for ten yards or so before standing motionless for what seemed like forever. I had expected the rhinos to copulate quickly, mechanically, with impassionate detachment, as most other mammals do, yet there was no such action. They were contentedly standing peacefully still. After a long pause, the female moved again and dragged the male toward the edge of the meadow, only to nibble at a bush. The male held on tight, his forelegs firmly clasping the female's back. He held his head high and scanned the sky, swaying his head rigidly from left to right, as if in response to an ancient ancestral dance. It was a bizarre sight.

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