Cover

The Burning Elephant

Title page

The Burning Elephant

Christopher Raja

For David, Edith, Indigo, Harper, Jala and Natasha

The Burning Elephant

The Burning Elephant

The elephant strolled into the schoolyard, tipped over four buckets of water, tore branches off the Banyan tree, beating them against his knees and back, then stuffed the leaves into his mouth. The money-lenders, spice-sellers, and the stray dogs from Serpent Lane came to watch. Even the crows seemed interested. Govinda had seen the elephant enter the school gate and terrify Tenzing and his goat.

‘You can’t have an elephant running wild in a school compound,’ his father said.

‘What does it want?’ Govinda whispered. His mouth was so dry that he could utter only a hoarse sound.

His father’s white shirt collar stood out when he pulled at it, as the students hollered and cried at the elephant which seemed to be growing accustomed to the hullabaloo and stood still, quite content.

‘This isn’t a circus,’ said the headmaster with his hands on his hips.

Govinda admired his father as most people did because Sunil Seth was a leader – the principal at St John’s Mission School. But at this moment, as the elephant walked about the school, Sunil Seth looked scared. Nevertheless, he threw himself in front of a schoolboy who moved close to the elephant. The beast then stared at the headmaster and shook its head violently. Its size and weight made it extremely dangerous. The bull was foaming from the mouth. On closer inspection it had a rip on one of its ears and a large chunk of flesh was missing. Govinda pictured its long trunk picking up his father, shaking him and then flinging him over the school wall. The headmaster stayed low and quiet to avoid being charged.

Govinda’s father was an orphan who had made himself a successful sahib. He took pride in the way he dressed and wore sensible, conservative, long-sleeved shirts and trousers. He was tall and strong and tried to keep his hair neat, parted to one side, but near the elephant, with its frightening intensity, his hair was in disarray and he looked small and terrified. He did not look like a sahib now.

Two bald Hindu priests arrived at the school and prostrated themselves.

‘Om Ganesha,’ they chanted. ‘Om Shiva and Kali.’

The neighbourhood dogs barked at the elephant as it reared up on its hind legs and threatened to trample the priests.

‘What are those idiots doing?’ asked Sunil Seth. ‘Do they want the bull to trample them?’

Govinda had once been to a circus where he wondered why the elephants, lions and clowns could not be left to be themselves. He believed animals should be free. His thoughts were interrupted by a loud siren as a police inspector and two constables arrived in a jeep with flashing lights. The elephant stamped its feet and shook its head.