The Tiger

THE TIGER

Cat looked round to ensure the others were listening. Midway through
describing a gruesome ritual performed by Buddhist monks, he had to be
sure he was getting the right reaction. The others had to be impressed.
He intended performing this ritual, but had to know it would gain him
the respect he desired. Sat beside Cat, Spirit watched a dishevelled
cavalcade of bright trucks and gypsy caravans amble across the sandy
track. The circus had come to town. Cat nudged Spirit with his elbow.
He went on to tell of haunted cemeteries where young monks tied
themselves to graves. Of the invocation of Tara, the goddess who
possesses the fire of a tiger, in her animal form. Of the trance where
death is so imagined, it is real. The last breath, worms biting at
rotting flesh until all that remains is stark bone.
Cat was short for Catweazel. So named because of his wispy sun
bleached hair and beard, that gave him more than a passing resemblance
to a seventies TV character. He was christened, the comparatively dull,
Brian. Everyone was known by a shortened version of their name.
Catweazel was Cat, Susan, Sue, Richard, Rich, and Anthony, Tony. Only
Spirit kept her name intact. People had tried to shorten Spirit to
Spir, but she wouldn't have it. Refused to respond to anything other
than Spirit.
"Wow man, that's cool." Said Tony.
"I wanna hava ago, any of youse care to join me?"
Cat's question met an initial silence, followed by a few "maybes" from
those who wished to be thought of as cool. Cat was a pseudo guru. He
linked his name with spirituality through the successful combination of
bluff sprinkled with a little knowledge. The others were willing to
follow Catweazel's teachings to a point, but were generally too
apathetic to take them beyond words into action. Cat either didn't
notice or care. He had his kudos and that suited him fine.
The five were sprawled over the pale sand of Anjuna beach. Their lithe
bodies barely covered, taking advantage of the sun. Spirit wanted a
good tan before the Full Moon party where she intended making an
entrance. She'd show the other beautiful people exactly who was the
most beautiful of them all. And besides, a couple of boys had caught
her eye. Cat wriggled his body close to Spirit's, allowing his foot to
graze against hers.
"Sorry." She said, moving away.
Cat, Rich and Tony all wanted Spirit. With her black hair, amber eyes
and brown skin, she was stunning. The other men on the beach had
noticed her too. Watched her as she walked through the lapping foam of
the sea, her slender body wrapped in shimmering silks.
Cat had been in Goa for some five years. He was always talking of
moving on, of heading east, to see tigers. He set dates and wrote out
itineraries. But, when the time came to leave, there was always a
reason why Cat would be staying a little longer. A girl, the monsoons,
a big party. Similarly, as no one would participate in his rituals, no
one ever agreed to accompany him east. The girls he chased had their
own ideas. The monsoons came and went. One big party over, another was
organised.

Spirit, Sue, Rich and Tony arrived in Goa on Christmas Eve. College
over, they had taken a year out to travel before starting university.
All four had spent both the summer and autumn months working for a
market research company. They worked each day of each week , from nine
to nine Monday to Friday, ten to six Saturday and Sunday. During this
time they sat in regimented booths, headphones clasped to their ears,
dreaming. The computers before them dialled telephone numbers, seeking
out the unsuspecting. Somewhere, someone answered a phone, a cursor
flashed on the screen indicating it was time to ask pointless questions
about worthless products. The intrusion was often met by a barrage of
abuse. Men swore, indignant that the Arsenal v Tottenham match had been
interrupted by a profusion of words delivered on behalf of Kellogg's
Frosties. As the four robotically read the script before them, their
minds travelled the world. India. They decided India would be their
first destination. Market Research robbed them of their souls, in India
they would find them.
It was Cat who found them. It was Christmas Day, he lay on the beach,
discreetly smoking a celebratory spliff, observing the new talent. It
was obvious who was fresh off the plane by the colour of their skin and
the unsuitability of their clothes. Spirit hadn't looked nearly so cool
back then. Her face was exquisite, but she looked ridiculously out of
place as she skipped over the hot sand that scalded her bare feet,
dressed in a white mini skirt and matching bra top, a la Madonna. The
boys sported Caterpillar boots, army fatigues and bare chests. Sue was
the least conspicuous in a long hippy dress and flip flops.
Cat had recently split with Kaz. They were together briefly, but his
pain was great. Kaz had been too headstrong, Spirit looked more like
his type of woman, more of a girlie. Waiting until he finished his
joint, Cat strolled over to where the four sat consulting their Lonely
Planet Guide.
"Merry Christmas," Cat held out his hand, "I'm Catweazel, Cat to my
friends."
The greeting returned was indifferent, with no one reaching out to
shake his hand or raising more than a grunt in return. Cat was not put
off, he knew his charm would win them yet.
"I think I'm right in saying you've not long arrived?"
"Last night." Replied Sue, not lifting her eyes from the book.
"Well, if you don't mind me saying, you're all going to fry in this
sun dressed like that, I've got some spare stuff in my hut just along
the way, I also have a little something to help Christmas Day pass
pleasantly, and, if you need a place to stay...."
Spirit looked down at her pink shoulders. The heat of the sun was
burning them up.
"Shall we?"

The boys felt absurd when they emerged from Cat's hut a few hours
later. The clothes had been left by those who had smoked too much hash
or drunk too much beer. Rich was dressed what he considered to be a
wrap-a-round skirt fashioned from very soft white cotton. Cat called
the skirt a lunghi, assuring him that lots of men wore them. Rich's
Caterpillars had been swapped for flip-flops that were a size to large.
Tony wore pantaloons, the crotch reaching half way between his thighs
and knees. He too had acquired a pair of flip-flops, red to match the
loons. Both Rich and Tony had wide brimmed straw hats perched on their
heads, and factor twenty five smeared over every bare inch of skin. Cat
said Sue's clothes were fine, though when she saw Spirit she wished
they weren't.
Spirit was transformed into a goddess with the aid of a silk sari of
the brightest blue, that became luminous in the sunlight, a silver
scarf covered her head and satin slippers protected her feet.
Cat passed round a chillum. His new friends soon had sore throats and
aching lungs. None of them had smoked anything other than joints
before. Rich felt foolish asking Cat what to do. The others copied
Rich, alluding a certain wisdom. The illusion shattered as they each
coughed and spluttered after drawing the hot smoke through the cloth
into their eager mouths.
The sun sank in an orange blaze beneath the waves. The five friends
sat in the shade of a broad leafed palm, drinking sweet chi.
Experiencing the cloying taste which would become as familiar and as
welcome as a cup of Tetley. Rich and Tony thought everyone was staring
at their new clothes, laughing. But, little by little, they realized
almost everyone looked ridiculous, it was just a matter of getting
comfortable with the new mode of dress. Spirit knew people were looking
at her. The women with jealousy, the men with admiration. She felt
content, life was good. Cat felt smug. He had four new companions and
four new housemates. Four people to impress. Maybe one of them,
hopefully Spirit, would like to go travelling some day, go find a
tiger.
A 100k rig had arrived from Thailand for the Full Moon Party. Five of
Goa's finest DJs were to perform, each trying to outdo the other with
the latest tracks. The party was to start at eleven with tribal dance
music. As the night grew darker, and the moon shone brighter, the music
would ease into, then out of, hard hitting techno. When the moon faded
to make way for the dawn, ambient sounds would ring in the sand.
Spirit spent hours getting ready. She bathed with scented orange
flower water and combed coconut oil through her hair to make it shine.
She buttoned a sari top over her breasts, tailored from silver silk by
a blind seamstress with quick fingers,. Silver gauze slung low around
her hips, drawing eyes towards the twinkling sapphire in her recently
pierced belly button. She adorned her toes with silver rings and ankles
with delicate silver chains. Silver bands hugged her upper arms and
silver bangles circled her wrists. She paid a young girl with a
beautiful face, to stain her hands with intricate patterns in burnt red
henna. And painted her nails with glittering silver varnish. A silver
claw clasped a burnished tiger eye stone that hung on a silver thread
around her neck.
Sue was dancing with Tony. The e had obviously kicked in. Their I love
you faces grinned from ear to ear. Cat was just behind them, legs and
arms flailing as if they were attempting to escape from his body. He
raised his hand and waved enthusiastically. Spirit thought Cat looked
like a clown with green and orange luminous paint streaked down his
arms and smeared across his face. He beckoned her to him. Wishing she
didn't know him, Spirit pretended not to notice and went to buy some
chi from the nearby stall. One of the men she had smiled at earlier was
waiting in line. Spirit joined him, introducing herself. Having drunk
their chi the two sidled off to dance. Cat watched on. A second rush of
ecstasy hit his brain. The warm breeze whispered to him;
"Go get her, she wants you."
Although all the evidence was to the contrary, Cat decided the time to
claim Spirit was now. Spirit and her handsome stranger were locked in a
passionate kiss. Cat tapped her on the shoulder.
"I love you."
Smiling through gritted teeth Spirit replied;
"Piss off Cat."
"I love you, I love you, I really do."
The handsome stranger took his arms from around Spirit's waist.
"What's going on?"
"Nothing, he's some loser we've been sharing a house with."
"Piss off mate."
With a shove the stranger pushed Cat away. Picking himself up from his
knees, Cat lunged at the stranger. A fight broke out. Horrified, Spirit
watched on, not quite sure what to do. Within seconds people pulled the
two apart. Cat was shouting, continuing to lash out with his arms and
legs.
"Fucking tosser trying to steal my girl! Asshole! Wanker!" Spirit took
the handsome stranger in her arms.
"You okay?"
"Sure."
"She's mine! She's fucking mine you prick!"
Sick of the bullshit flowing from Cat's mouth Spirit screamed. She
screamed as loud as a banshee, stunning the party into silence. Spirit
marched over to where Cat now stood, his head hung low.
"I'm not yours! You fake! Piss off, impress someone else with your
fucking rituals and tigers!"
Grabbing the handsome stranger by the hand, Spirit led him into a
night of secrets and promises.

Back at the house the party thundered in the distance. Humiliated, Cat
washed the paint from his arms and face. He then packed a small bag and
set off along the moonlit track for the graveyard, muttering as he
went;
"I'll show them, I'll show them whose fake, party goers with their
pretty clothes and empty heads."
The track was covered in sharp pebbles. Wrapped up in his anger, Cat
was oblivious as they cut into the soles of his feet. In his wake
droplets of scarlet blood glistened under the moon.
The cemetery was enclosed by a high wall of pale stone. An iron gate
marked the entrance. It was locked each day after dusk to keep the
beggars out and the souls of the dead in. Cat climbed a tree that had
thick boughs overhanging the wall. Dropping down behind the wall, he
was aware of a stillness. Cat remembered being a tiny boy in a snow
covered wood. Alone, having strayed from his parents back garden to
explore the world behind the gate, the calm had frightened him. The
wood had become a place where all possibilities were waiting.
Shrieking, a bird had taken flight from a tree, scattering snow in a
whirlwind fluster. Afraid of what was to follow, little Brian ran back
to his house and the comforting noise of his family.
Cat decided to keep to the peripheries of the cemetery. There was a
tomb he liked round to the left. It was large, with tigers and angels
carved from stone to protect the soul inside. This was the place. Cat
put candles at the mouths of the tigers and lit them. The flames burned
bright without a flicker or hint of movement. Cat recalled the breeze
beyond the wall that had cooled his skin where sweat dripped down his
back. In the sky he could see the faint outlines of clouds as they
travelled from east to west. It was then he heard the silence. The fear
he had as a child returned, only this time he wasn't going to turn
back. This time he was going to face the possibilities.
Cat tied himself with a rough rope to a stone cross facing the tomb.
He stared at the flame of the candle nearest to him and cleared his
head of all thoughts. It took a while for him to stop thinking. To stop
wondering whether he was a loser like Spirit said. Or whether he would
be able to face the beautiful people of Goa without them laughing in
his face. Whether he would ever head east and see a tiger. But,
eventually his mind cleared. Cleared until it was as still as a
grave.
Cat stared into a candle flame, continuing to burn bright without so
much as a quiver. His mind was now free to accept images of death from
the Goddess Tara. The flame shimmered. Beyond its brilliant light a
tiger roared, bearing a mouth of a hundred teeth, sharp as knives. The
tiger, resplendent in her orange and black stripes, climbed down from
the tomb. She slunk towards him, her skin loose over her shoulder
blades, her tail hung low. Proud, Cat imagined the scene as he told the
others he had invoked a tiger. Cat looked into the she tiger's eyes.
They were large as saucers and the colour of burnt gold. The tiger
roared as she leapt. Her massive paws tore at Cat's body, shredding
clothes and ripping limb from limb. Cat wailed as his skin ruptured and
her teeth bit through his bone. He yelled for the ritual to stop. But
the tiger continued. Warm blood flowed from each and every one of his
veins. Cat could feel nor think nothing but pain. The tiger took his
head between her jaws and snapped it from his neck. A tiger eye fell
into a pool of warm blood.

Spirit and Julian lay together beneath a palm tree. In the distance
the music played on. The sex had been good. Passionate, both had
scratches marks running down their backs. Fastening her top, Spirit
wondered what had become of her pendant. She began to look around her,
in the sand where they'd made love. Loud, agitated voices disturbed her
search. Running along the beach towards them were a small group of
Indian men. Each carried a f lame torch that left a trail of white
smoke behind it. Julian stubbed out his spliff and hid it in his
pocket. The men stopped by the tree. Their eyes blazed with anxiety.
They all wore white lunghis with formal red jackets, golden shoes with
curling toes on their feet. Catching his breath, the oldest man
spoke;
"Sir, Madam, we are looking for our tiger."
Spirit and Julian stared at him as if they hadn't understood his
words.
"Please Sir have you seen our tiger? She is big and hungry. She
escaped her cage sometime today. She is valuable tiger."
"Are you from the circus?"
"Yes Madame."
The men turned and continued to run along the beach, leaving a cloud
of sand in their wake. Julian pulled Spirit to her feet, giggling they
ambled towards the beach huts.
"Let's go find a tiger."
"A very valuable tiger."
"A very dangerous tiger."
"A very hungry tiger."

Copyright Angel Morgan 2000
The Tiger

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