Bandru Monkey could copy any sound in Panchvan. He chirped like a myna, croaked like a frog and once imitated Gajaraj’s trumpet so perfectly that three elephants saluted a mango tree.
His favourite trick was a terrified scream.
“Tiger! Tiger!”
The first time, deer bolted, rabbits dived underground and Gajaraj charged through a thorn bush. Bandru hung upside down, laughing.
Two days later he did it again. This time Sheru Jackal dropped his lunch in the river.
“One day there will be a tiger,” Chintu warned, “and all you will get is your own echo.”
Bandru promised to stop. By afternoon he was already practising a tiger growl.
A week later, beyond the old well, a branch moved without wind. Bandru looked down. A striped tiger was creeping towards the meadow, where young deer played beside their mothers.
Bandru’s laughter vanished.
“Tiger!” he yelled. “A real one!”
Nobody ran. Sheru covered his ears. The deer kept grazing.
Bandru raced above the tiger, snapping twigs and throwing fruit. The tiger looked up, annoyed, but continued towards the meadow.
Then Bandru spotted a red-bee hive hanging over a thorny side path. He swung low in front of the tiger and flicked its nose with his tail.
The tiger roared and chased him.
Bandru sprang over the side path. The tiger crashed beneath the hive. Bandru kicked the branch.
Down came the hive.
Hundreds of furious bees poured over the tiger’s ears. It spun, sneezed and bounded into the thorn bushes with the swarm behind it.
Now the forest heard the real roars. Gajaraj led the elephants to the meadow. Chitra Deer gathered the fawns. Sheru found deep pawprints and finally looked up at Bandru.
“You were telling the truth.”
Bandru rubbed three bee stings on his bottom. “I chose a bad day to become believable.”
The elephants followed the tracks until the tiger crossed the rocky northern ridge and disappeared. For several evenings, watch groups guarded the forest edge.
Bandru joined every watch. He still copied frogs and birds, but never used a danger call for a joke.
One afternoon he shouted, “Falling mango!”
Sheru ignored him.
The mango landed squarely on the jackal’s head.
Bandru peered down from the branch. “Would you prefer I call that a tiger?”
Sheru picked up the mango. “I would prefer you share it.”