He did not panic. An attack on the bridge by Big One was unlikely. The creature could not know whether the man was ready for another shot. Instinct warned Chacko against trying to flee. Crocodiles could run on land with a burst of speed and it was doubtful whether in his given condition he could out pace Big One. He stayed where he was, holding the empty gun and scanning the canal.
The vigil continued till first rays of morning.
When Chacko finally reached home his black and white fox terrier, Nero, rushed out to greet him. His wife, Mariam, was standing on the front steps carrying their two-year old son. The baby was whimpering. She shifted him from one hip to the other and back again.
"Where were you?" she asked sharply.
That was unlike her. Usually she never questioned her husband’s activities. “I tried to shoot a crocodile,” Chacko answered.
"Big One?"
The hunter nodded, wondering how she had guessed.
Mariam's face turned pale and she started breathing heavily. "He escaped?"
"Yes."
"I knew it," the wife went on. "The novena was interrupted for the first time yesterday. The priest's mother died. He went home and didn't return in time."
Chacko did not respond. To him it was a mere coincidence.
"Now we are doomed," Mariam continued hysterically. "Big One is a demon."
"Shut up, woman," the husband said, but not harshly.
After a bath and breakfast Chacko took stock of the situation. He was certain that Big One would strike back. The beast had seen him clearly and would have picked up his scent. It could track him down without much difficulty. But he had no clue to the crocodile's whereabouts. The creature lived in some unknown, untraceable burrow. The conclusion was obvious. The field of battle and the timing of the attack would be decided by the enemy.
Chacko inspected his hunting equipment. There was the old muzzle loader. To hunt crocodiles, one spherical ball was loaded at a time with extra gunpowder to enhance range and power. Then he looked at the harpoons with specially made coir rope attached to them. Chacko could score a perfect hit from fifty feet. As soon as the weapon found its target the line would be secured to the nearest tree. The armory also included thettali, a heavy wooden bow on which metal tipped arrows were used. Another gadget was a piece of iron with anchor-like hooks at both ends. This would be concealed in the carcass of a small animal in the hope that if a crocodile took the bait the metal contraption would get stuck in its throat.
Chacko knew that for Big One it had to be the gun.
Kadep's population became agitated when the news about the confrontation between Chacko and Big One spread. The hunter had concealed the fact that he had provoked the crocodile. The locals believed that Big One was on warpath again because the novena was interrupted, and that Chacko was picked for the attack since the beast's anger against Mathai had not subsided even after three decades. They feared that the wrath of the beast would turn to others as well. The priest was blamed for exposing them to the danger. Some parishioners petitioned the bishop for his transfer.
People were alert and on the look out for Big One. But weeks passed without any sign of the beast. Chacko began speculating whether he had seriously wounded the crocodile. That was unlikely. The pellets could not have penetrated the protective armor on the enemy’s back. One possibility was that both eyes were hit, blinding the beast. That too was doubtful. A more likely explanation was that the creature had gone into hibernation. That was common among crocodiles
Then came the night of the new moon.
Chacko had a habit of going out in the open to urinate before retiring. He normally did this at the base of a slanting coconut palm in a corner of the yard around his house. When he came out as usual on to the veranda that night Nero who had been barking for some time was near the steps, moaning now and blocking the way. That was not unusual. The terrier was prone to get agitated at the slightest provocation. Looking towards the leaning coconut tree that was barely visible in the dim light, the dog started barking again. Chacko ignored him and descended the steps.
Nero jumped out and ran ahead of his master in the direction of the tree, baying frantically. The hunter sensed danger. He stopped instantly, calling back the dog. Moments later he could vaguely see the crocodile detach itself from the lower portion of the leaning palm and fall upon the terrier. There was a pitiful howl from Nero as the jaws of Big One clamped down on him.
Chacko was stunned. The attack had boldness, speed and precision. It had been planned and executed almost to perfection. The hunter had overlooked that crocodiles could recognize and remember the pattern of activity of other creatures.
Recovering quickly Chacko ran inside for the gun. After the encounter at the bridge it was always kept loaded with spherical ball. He came out, lit a torch made of dry palm leaves and searched the courtyard. All that he could see were some marks and a few drops of blood on the sand.
Chacko returned to the house and sat on the front steps, glad that Mariam had gone to sleep. He wanted to be alone. Nero had been like a member of the family. Mariam's brother Luka, who was a clerk at a tea garden in the hills, had given him as a pup five years previously.
Two days later, a middle-aged stranger came to see Chacko. "I'm Ali," the visitor introduced himself, "from across the lake."
"I've heard of you," Chacko said. The Muslim too was a reputed crocodile hunter.
Mariam brought a mat and spread it on the floor. Ali sat down.
“I hunted with your father for a while,” the visitor said. “He was a fine man. Learned many things from him.”
Chacko smiled faintly, but did not respond.
“I heard the news,” Ali went on. “It’s a bad situation.”
“Yes.”
“I can assist you to hunt Big One.”
Chacko looked at the man sharply. It was surprising that someone would volunteer to fight the beast. That took immense courage. But he was piqued as well by the suggestion of help. Did the man think that he, Chacko, son of Mathai, was incapable of handling Big One by himself?
"Send your family away," Ali advised. "I can move in here and we take on the crocodile together."
Chacko remained silent.
“There is,” Ali continued, “no other beast like Big One. At times I wonder whether he is something more than just an animal. I wouldn’t go after him alone. With you, yes. But not with anyone else.”
“Let me think it over,” Chacko replied after a while.
“You are the best hunter in the land. But even you may not be able to tackle Big One by yourself. A back-up shot would be safer. I’m good with guns.”
Chacko did not answer.
The visitor was thoughtful for a moment. Then he said, “Look, I don’t want any money or the credit. Big One has to be killed.”
“Yes. I’ll finish him.”
Ali gave the younger man an appraising look. “I understand,” he said smiling, and left.
Mariam rushed out to the veranda after the visitor was gone. “You should have listened to him,” she said. “Let me take our little Mathai and go to my father’s house for a while. Ask Ali to stay here and help.”
Chacko shook his head. Seeking assistance would mean loss of face. There was no point in explaining that to Mariam. She wouldn’t understand.
Big One returned days later.
He came quietly in the night while Chacko was asleep. The hunter knew about the visit only the next morning when he opened the front door and peered through the soft haze outside.
Nero's skeleton was on the sand near the steps.
Thirty years back it had been Mathai’s remains. That at least had some finality about it. The man was dead, an encounter was over. But the death of Nero was only the beginning of a fight.
For a long time Chacko stood staring at what was left of the dog. Finally he decided to leave the bones to rest where they lay. After making a square brick border with Nero's remains in the center, he fixed bamboo poles in the four corners, tied coir strings connecting them and hung cream colored tender palm leaves all around. Then he drove an old harpoon into the ground, near the skeleton.
Mariam watched from the veranda. "Please," she pleaded, "let's go away."
"No."
“At least,” Mariam kept on, “for the sake of our son.”
“He’ll be all right.”
The woman shook her head. "You're fighting a demon," she said tearfully. "You can't win."
"Keep quiet," the husband said angrily. "No crocodile can defeat me."
Mariam ran inside sobbing.
Chacko could see the well-defined trail of Big One, which was lost in the undergrowth beyond the yard. He knew that the track would lead to one of the nearby canals. There was no purpose in locating the exact spot.
A couple of days later Chacko went to a teashop in the bazaar. It was a thatched structure with two wooden benches on the sand floor and a samovar in a corner. A bunch of ripe, yellow bananas hung from a rafter. The moment Chacko entered, conversation ceased and people stared at him. One of them made the sign of the Cross.
The uneasy silence continued till the hunter was served the strong black tea that he had ordered. Then a customers asked, “Why don’t you go away from Kadep and leave us in peace?”
“If you have no guts,” Chacko retorted coldly, “why don’t you get out?”
There was no response.
“Nothing will help,” and old man stated. “We’ll have problems till next year’s novena is concluded. St. Anthony is angry with us.”
“All of you,” Chacko said, “are being foolish. Big One is after me. No one else is at risk.”
“You can say what you like. The beast is evil. He’ll attack others as well.”
“No,” Chacko said. “Before that I’ll kill him.”
The customers looked away from him. He drank the tea and walked out.
Big One returned again, on Christmas night.
After the festivities, Chacko had gone to bed late. He was awakened from a disturbed sleep by strange noises outside and knew intuitively what was happening. He scrambled up from the mat he was sleeping on and grabbed the gun that was in a corner. Suddenly realizing that the beast could not be seen from his room, he moved to the front door wondering whether Big One was aware of his tactical disadvantage.
He paused. It was quiet outside now. A sixth sense warned him that the crocodile was still there, waiting for him to step out. Going around the back way through the door near the kitchen, was also risky. The hunter didn’t know which way Big One was facing. He could cut through the thatching and get on to the roof, but if the beast were lying close to the outer wall of the house it would be impossible to see him.
The child screamed.
To be continued.
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