The Brown Beast published in Indus Women Writing

The Brown Beast

By Sreya Sarkar

Colonel Bagchi glared at the ruined state of the mesh he had carefully canopied on a patch of soil with new seeds. It instantly curdled his early morning good mood. He knew the culprit of course. It was the brown beast again, living in the woods behind his house, regularly feasting on the young saplings and greens he was trying to grow in his garden. He noticed muddy paw marks leading away from the patch towards the animal’s burrow, giving him all the evidence he needed.

Brijesh Bagchi was a retired military officer, an ex-colonel, but people around him addressed him as Colonel Bagchi, even after ten years of his retirement. He had moved deliberately to this secluded town near the wilderness following his retirement. After spending most of his life managing insurgencies and upheavals in the north-eastern part of India, he had seen enough bloodshed to grow a permanent aversion towards mankind. His straight and sturdy body had not grown tired but his mind had aged and needed rest. When he moved into the old cottage, with creaky floors and drafty windows, that he had bought on a whim a few years ago, his grown-up children were aghast at the prospect of him living alone. Colonel Bagchi though, was rather obstinate about his decision. After his wife passed away, he realized that he was not obligated to spend time with human kinds, but little did he know that there were creatures other than human beings that could wreck his World as well. They seemed harmless, a part of the bountiful nature around him, but now the squirrels and birds and especially a brown hare—the brown beast, were proving to be quite a challenge for his happy existence. The extra space around his cottage had given him an opportunity to grow a hobby and a garden. He soon graduated from growing easy vegetable plants to Magnolias and Orchids, the activity giving him a sense of discipline that he was used to in his career. Colonel Bagchi discovered that he enjoyed gardening. There was something about touching the soft wet soil that gave him the satisfaction of doing something worthwhile with life. He had seen so many people getting killed in combats that he felt refreshingly optimistic to see saplings raise their young head from Earth. The green shoot breaking through the top soil was like a celebration of life over death, creation over destruction, somewhat like Earth’s triumph over mankind’s complicated destructivity. He muttered under his breath following the paw track with his eyes. This was the second time this week that the hare had disrupted his plan to grow his garden. To take his mind off the disturbance, he rode into the nearest big town with his gardener to get new seeds from the nursery, along with his daily grocery and medicines. His pension money was enough to support his simple life style and that made him feel happy and independent. The next morning, he caught the brown beast staring at him with an open audacity. He pretended to concentrate on the newspaper in front of him but looked at the animal surreptitiously every now and then. It hopped towards the tomato patch and started chewing on a low hanging tomato with a natural ferocity that made Colonel Bagchi fume with indignation. It was as if the beast was mocking him with his decided impudence. Such was the degree of his annoyance that he took out his rifle and cleaned it thoroughly instead of cleaning his cluttered study, as he had planned to do the night before.