How manly are you?

This question reminded me of a story a senior officer at one of my clients' organisations once told me.

It’s a tale from another time, a very different time. The events described happened in the 1910s, somewhere in the foothills of the Himalayas. You won't find it in any book or article, true stories rarely are. The village in question has become the suburb of a certain Tier III city. The person in question has a small hospital (built by his ) named after him now, but I doubt many know the story.

This officer's grandfather was the finest huntsman in his village. He had forged his own sword, one of those Ahom two-handed types, and would go around with it strapped to his back. He made it after he saw that while spears were effective, the added versatility and power of a polearm like a two-handed great sword were of more importance.

His chief source of income was to act as a guide for visiting Angrej uffasars on tiger hunts.

Most of these Uffasars were military men from Angrejistan, not locally born, and so had absolutely no clue of both how to hunt big cats or why to listen to their brown-skinned guide, let's call Mr Grandfather M.

These Angrej invariably carried heavy Henry-Martini rifles, which they deemed capable of bringing down an beast in a single shot. So M would help them get to their target, line up the trail, they'd shoot- and then lie back for a smoke and chat and tell M to retrieve the corpse. According to my Client, they'd NEVER offer him either help or a gun. Tiger Coats were a prize. Indian lives were worthless.

Thus, M would enter some of the most densely-forested thickets in the world, armed with nothing but a sword- knowing that any bush or ridge could hide behind it the deadliest animal in the World- an wounded tiger.

He also knew that if he failed to retrieve the tiger skin, the Angrej would curse him and leave- denying him weeks of payment. He also knew that if he died, the Angrej would tut and leave for another hill, leaving the wounded tiger free to turn Man-eater and possibly feed on his own fellow villagers.

“So how did M die?” I asked while sipping my tea.

“Oh no, he died of old age,” my Client laughed. “He was the one who told me the story back in the 70s”

M presided over a total of 30 such hunts.

In 9 of these, he faced off against wounded tigers alone. The first time, his spear had broken and a swipe from the tiger had torn his cheek to shreds. For his pains, the Angrej had given him medicine, a referral to the doctor at the town thirty miles away, and two rupees. By the time he killed his last tiger, he was getting five rupees and rations for a week.

M used to carry his sword with one hand on the grip and another around the middle of the blade, the section blunted for safe usage. Apparently he'd use it like a spear, switching to broad slashes if the initial thrust didn't connect. He'd had to eschew machetes to carry this weapon, and so after every hunt his arms and shins would be blood-soaked ruins until his wife wove jute mocassions for him.

“Sounds like a Man among men!”

“He was. But within his lifetime, he saw how the tiger went extinct in his very hills and he knew that he'd played no insignificant role in the Fall of such magnificent beasts.”

“He still hunted 30 tigers.”

“He didn't hunt any of them. And even if he did, it's not like he had anything to show for them. And though back then, he'd speak of making amends, his sons were all busy in their own work and he was old.”

I've read that Officer's Clubs in the Indian Army and such places would keep track of Shikars. Several hunters were toasted in lodges and clubs, even as late as Nehru's reign in the 60s. The skins, treated in the field, would be handed over to Taxonomists and Record-keepers, and then sent back to Angrejistan to decorate mantlepieces and act as conversation starters during dinners.

I don't think any of the stories mentioned M, as he crawled into dark ravines in search of wounded tigers, clad in a dirty dhoti, a headband, and jute mocassions and armed with a sword he'd forged with the help of the blacksmith from the next village.

Was Mr M “manly”? Were the Angrej uffasars “manly”? Were the German soldiers the latter would fight in a few years “manly”?

I don't think such questions can't be answered. As I said, it was a very different time.