BIG ONE and "BELT' CHACKO

[This is from the special collection of short stories that I have written, but not published yet. The critics, editors and other writers who have read the piece have rated it high. Some have suggested that it is excellent material for a good movie but I have not pursued that angle.

Any way, I thought of sharing it with my readers. Hope you like it.]

It was a fight to the finish between a man and a beast. In a way, it began because of a woman, and birds that came all the way from Siberia to South India. The entire population of the sandy, palm-studded Kadep Island in the Vembanad Lake watched the conflict that lasted six suspenseful months with trepidation. It was clear from the outset that the duel would end only with the death of either or both combatants.

The man was Chacko, son of Mathai. The beast was a crocodile called Big One. A male. He was said to be thirty feet long and weigh about a ton. Chacko was six feet tall and powerfully built. He was thirty-one years old. No one knew the crocodile's age. The creature had been around for as far back as anybody could remember. The man was a famous crocodile hunter as his father Mathai had been before him. Big One had defied many great hunters for decades.

Large saltwater crocodiles and smaller muggers infested the backwaters around Kadep. At night they moved freely from the lake to the extensive rice fields and the several canals and ponds on the island. Apart from fishes and crabs they fed on birds, dogs and calves. Sometimes they killed humans too. The island folk lived with the awareness of danger and were careful particularly after sunset. Many believed that Big One was invested with supernatural powers and was unconquerable.

Once a schoolteacher from the port town of Cochin, who was on a visit to his wife’s house in Kadep, narrated a story about crocodiles. According to him, in the ancient times there was a king in the north by the name of Golden Star. He had only one child, a son who was born with the head of a crocodile and the body of a man. Crocodiles all over the world were descendants of that creature. Bitter that his offspring was an object of ridicule, Golden Star decreed that crocodiles and men would forever be enemies and that there would always be one of those beasts with supernatural powers, which would be invincible.

Many of the villagers, who were unaware that the extremely intelligent reptiles were descendants of dinosaurs, believed the story. Big One was immediately identified as the unconquerable beast that Golden Star had predicted.

But crocodile hunters were tougher and unconcerned about myths. Skin trade offered big money. Dealers in Cochin were willing to buy any quantity. Expert taxidermists processed the hides to manufacture shoes, handbags and other expensive items, which were in great demand in Europe and America.

Big One was the most sought after catch. His skin would fetch a fortune because of the enormous size and the merchants were prepared to out bid each other for it. Even Samson’s, the leading trading house at Cochin was interested in procuring the hide. Their plan, according to market rumor, was to bill the skin as the biggest in the world and to exhibit it in London, Paris and New York where they had business connections.

Then came the death of Mathai.

The man went hunting one evening, and never returned. By next afternoon search parties were organized. They combed every inch of Kadep and the lake, but found no trace of the hunter.

Chacko was one year old at the time.

Four days after Mathai’s disappearance Big One surfaced in the lake. He held a decaying human body in his mouth just above the waterline and paraded up and down the lagoon. Men, women and children watched in horror from the shores. No one dared to interfere. Experienced hunters knew that there would be several crocodiles moving underwater. Because Big One was the dominant male, the other crocodiles had to swim at a lower level.

The macabre exposition continued for three days. On the fourth morning the remains of Mathai were found near the front steps of his house, dumped like garbage. The funeral posed a problem. The vicar of the local St. Anthony’s Church was reluctant to bury the bones in the church cemetery because no one was certain that the skeleton was that of Mathai. Finally he relented.

Thirty years later, another skeleton was to be discarded at the same place.

Even the hunters avoided Big One after that eerie event. The story about Golden Star made the rounds again and yet more people began attributing supernatural powers to the crocodile. In order to protect the islanders, the local parish priest began a nine-day annual novena to St. Anthony the Miracle Worker. It ended on the last Sunday before Advent, when Kadep celebrated the feast of the saint with pomp and pageantry. Apart from Christians, members of other communities also attended the novena.

Crocodile attacks on humans stopped.

Chacko took to crocodile hunting when he grew up. It was not out of any conscious intention to avenge the death of Mathai. The spirit of adventure was in his blood. He liked the thrill and the danger involved, and the money. Besides, crocodiles were the only interesting game left in Kadep.

There had been jackals years back, hordes of them, but they had left the island en masse suddenly. That was a mystery. On a full moon night the entire lot marched to the lake howling continuously, almost in a procession, and swam away never to return. Some people said that the exodus was because crocodiles had killed so many of the animals that their survival on the island was in jeopardy. Others believed that the divine snakes banished them in anger for desecrating the several sacred groves on the island. The woods were hallowed ground for the Hindus who lighted lamps at twilight before the stone idols located inside them and prayed to the serpent gods.

Even as a child Chacko had shown some inherent skills. He was very good with catapult and sling. His aim was near perfect. With one throw he could bring down mangoes from a high branch.

At the age of eleven, while returning home after collecting cashew nuts from trees that grew sporadically, he caught a smell, like tapioca being boiled, and knew that a cobra was in the vicinity. Armed with a forked stick he moved around, alert for the hissing. He located the venomous snake and pinned down its hood with his weapon as it was about to strike. He pulled the reptile by the tail and banged it dead against a coconut tree.

Shortly after that event, which was much talked about on the island, a senior crocodile hunter took Chacko on as an apprentice. Under the man’s tutelage, the boy learned the importance of patience and total alertness. He developed the capacity to wait still and silent for long periods. His power of observation was heightened and his senses sharpened. In hunting, things like a slight rustling sound or a faint odor could be crucial. One had to correctly judge wind velocity and direction, tidal currents, and take into consideration factors like moon phases and their effects on animals, mating seasons and habits, and the vulnerable spots in the prey’s anatomy. A hunter was never to commit himself unless he was certain to score an effective hit. He always had to position himself downwind from the target. Chacko’s intuition, instinct and anticipation improved with training and experience.

By the age of twenty-five, he was acknowledged as the best hunter in the area. He had killed several crocodiles and had earned a great deal of money, which was spent lavishly. But he did not go after Big One. People who were jealous of him said that he was afraid of the beast. That was not true. He simply had no score to settle with Big One. His father apparently had made some mistake and had paid the penalty. In crocodile hunting errors were invariably fatal. Chacko was confident that if he were to ever encounter the beast, there wouldn’t be any slip ups. He was convinced that he was a better hunter than his father had been.

The confrontation between Chacko and Big One began on a November night, a couple of years after the Great War.

With the onset of winter, migrating common teals from Siberia settled in the lake and the rice fields of Kadep, which were flooded after the October harvest when the farmers opened the sluices on the embankments to let in fishes and crustaceans. Chacko often hunted them because they were good table birds.

While returning from such an outing one evening, he saw Janaki emerge from a pond near her house after bath, wearing only a wet loincloth that clung provocatively to her body.

He walked in to her hut.

Everyone in Kadep knew about Janaki. The young widow would receive only men of the upper classes. A few months previously, she had made history as the first low caste woman in Kadep to appear in public fully dressed, covering even her breasts. Wearing a top was a privilege reserved for high caste ladies those days. While Janaki walked nonchalantly to the bazaar in her radical attire, some prominent people of the locality stopped her and forced her to remove the offending garment. It became an open secret that subsequently some of the men who had chastised Janaki began visiting her habitat clandestinely and insisted her wearing the top throughout their visit.

Janaki rushed back and asked the hunter to sit on a mat on the narrow front veranda. She went inside the only room of the thatched hut and reappeared shortly, dressed like a high caste lady.

The hunter gave one look and said sharply, “Take it off.”

The woman was startled. Her hands moved to the sarong.

“Not that,” Chacko’s voice was harsh. His eyes indicated the upper garment.

Janaki nearly tore the blouse in her anxiety to comply. Chastened, she stood shyly, bare breasted now.

The birds in the game bag were given to the cook, an old woman who stayed with the widow. Janaki led Chacko into the room. She opened a bottle of arrack specially distilled with herbs and poured some into an earthen bowl. As the man started gulping the light golden colored liquor, the hostess placed hardboiled eggs and onion and hot pepper chutney before him on a piece of green banana leaf. After a while, the sizzling sound and the pungent smell of the teals being fried drifted into the room from the lean to kitchen.

It turned out to be a long night.

Chacko hardly noticed the scent of jasmine that laced the air from the buds that were opening, when he finally came out of the woman’s habitat. He was groggy and tired. It had been quite a while since he had consumed so much alcohol. The brew that Janaki had served was potent stuff.

As he reached atop the raised footbridge across the canal beside Janaki’s hut, the man noticed a crocodile below. It had probably strayed there attracted by the odor of the teals. Crocodiles had highly developed senses of sight and smell. They could see in the dark, underwater, and because of binocular vision, had accurate depth and distance perception.

In the pale moonlight all that Chacko could see was the top of the beast's head. He lifted the gun, took quick aim and fired. A fraction of a moment too late, he remembered that the weapon was loaded with birdshot.

There was an unearthly growl from down below, like rolling thunder. An immense mass rose from the water with surprising force. The crocodile was not close enough to fling its weight against the wooden structure. It hung in the air for a few seconds and fell back into the canal. Water swirled up the banks and shook the bridge.

Chacko was absolutely sober suddenly. From the enormous size of the creature he knew that it had to be Big One. There could be no other crocodile like that. He had casually provoked the awesome beast. He knew that crocodiles were vengeful and had long memories.

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 the first rays of morning.

To be continued.

© Abraham Tharakan.