Baskadia

Very soon, I was awoken by the glare of the rising sun on my eyes. My arm was still sore but the blood had begun to clot. I picked up my backpack and commenced my journey back to the riverbank while blowing the whistle at regular intervals, under the hope that Uncle Bao would hear it. It was better to listen to the shrill sound of the whistle than bear the constant whining of the orphan I was carrying on my back.

“Master Batra. Master Batra! Master Batra! Where were you? I was so worried for you” Uncle Bao heard my whistling and came running towards me.

“It’s a long story, Uncle. I was attacked by a bear.” I hugged him tightly.

“How…I mean, really? How did you escape?” He asked, exasperated.

“My survival skills saved me”

“Anyways, I am glad you are alive. Come on, you need immediate help”

We decided to halt our photography plans till the time I recovered.

It was then that he noticed my backpack.

“Master Batra, if you don’t mind me asking, what is in that backpack?”

“That mother bear’s baby”

“Whaaaaaat? Why are you carrying it with you?”

“Don’t worry. It’s barely a month old and thus not dangerous.”

“That is fine but, why are you carrying it? Why didn’t you leave it in the woods”

“It wouldn’t be able to survive alone in the forest with so many dangers out there. I wanted to make sure that the baby found a home”

“Oh…You are so kind, Master Batra! I am glad that I helped you become the fine man you are today!”

A year later, I decided to visit our city’s zoo. It was laden with families, who had all come to have a look at the newest addition to the zoo; the rare Asiatic black bear. It took me quite some time to get past the crowd, but it was worth the effort. We made eye contact and the bear snarled and tried to pounce on me, but I was well safe; the high walls of his cage made sure he remained captive his entire life. His anger wasn’t misguided; he might’ve recognized me.

Following Uncle Bao’s death six months ago, I realized that I no longer wanted to continue working as a wildlife photographer; I took up the job of a park ranger instead. That was the only way I could move on from my past life with him. I never stopped clicking pictures of wildlife, though. It just became more of a hobby than a passion. My new job also offered solitude, but it was much more rewarding than being a photographer.

As I reminisced the aftermath of my duel with the mother bear, I took off my necklace. It housed the same bear’s claw I had plucked from the dead bear’s paw; the same bear claw which had made the past year my happiest in decades. The myth that a bear’s claw brings prosperity and success to its owner had been proven to be true, and with the claw by my side, I could achieve unimaginable heights.