Tiger’s UID

Tiger didn’t know where to turn.

Could that darn thing be there in that bush?

Could it be below that tree? Maybe it’s concealed within that foliage looking deliberate and not natural? He had to give his best pose and he was tired of strutting around like a model on a ramp. He had even rehearsed the walk; his wife checking out every move.

“I don’t want a picture of you looking like some house cat,” she had warned. Then licking her paws clean after a breakfast befitting royalty, she had added for good measure, “at fashion shows in the city, they walk some, then, they pause some. Maybe you should do that. For the next few days, don’t run or charge. Just walk and pose every few steps. Be regal.”

The exercise confused the forest.

The monkey had shrieked seeing Tiger and the deer had bolted hearing the shriek. Then, they realised there was nobody chasing. Instead was this amazing sight of Tiger walking right royally, then halting and posing right royally. “I think he waved at me,” the startled monkey hissed to the perplexed deer. In the distance, they saw Tigress approaching. She walked and paused similarly. She fluttered her eyelids as well.

Neither the monkey nor the deer relaxed guard.

“Oh hello there, all well up in the trees?” Tiger asked amiably, “am I imagining it or did someone tamper with them bushes over there? Did you see any human being lately around that area?”

“No. Why do you ask my lord? Are you turning man eater? They will kill you if you do that,” the monkey said alarmed. The jungle’s king was his king too.

“Oh no! You see I am supposed to get my unique identification number and I haven’t the faintest idea where the damn camera may be. My missus, she says, I should be careful lest the camera miss my royal face and stripes. It’s after all a question of dignity for the whole forest. A king can’t let down his subjects, can he?”

“No, my lord,” the monkey said.

“Is my walk alright?”

“Maybe a bit more swagger your highness and a tad more murder in the gaze? There, that’s it.”

“And me?” Tigress asked.

“Smashing as ever your highness,” the monkey replied.

The royal couple went by. The monkey sighed. The deer looked at him questioningly.

The monkey pointed to a newspaper, folded and hung on a nearby branch. He shook his head. “UID for tigers. I dread identity cards.”

“Why?”

“Ever seen one that is totally correct?”

“Maybe we can apply for correction?”

“Maybe. Then, we can correct the correction and the correction thereafter.”

“Then why are the tigers doing this?”

“At least a memory would remain that they existed?” the monkey said slipping a berry into his mouth, “or maybe, knowing what lay ahead, they wish to ensure that their stripes’ worth reaches their own bank account and not some human being’s?”

The deer seemed forlorn. “I wish he chased me. When I run I know I am deer. When the tiger hunts, he knows he is tiger. Is there better ID?”

A mile away, Tiger walked majestically, head held high, tail twitching, muscles rippling. He paused and looked regally this way and that.

Another monkey shrieked; another deer bolted.

Then it was quiet as the king’s search for identity continued.

(The author is a freelance journalist based in Mumbai)