Notion Press

Old No. 38, New No. 6 McNichols Road, Chetpet - 600 031

First Published by Notion Press 2019 Copyright © Kling Johnson 2019 All Rights Reserved.

ISBN 978-1-64546-533-1

This book has been published with all efforts taken to make the material error-free after the consent of the author. However, the author and the publisher do not assume and hereby disclaim any liability to any party for any loss, damage, or disruption caused by errors or omissions, whether such errors or omissions result from negligence, accident, or any other cause.

No part of this book may be used, reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Author Disclaimer

CLI – The Colt is truly a work of fiction. The names, characters, incidents and historical events portrayed here is the work of author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, jamboree, monuments or locales is entirely coincidental. A

A group of noisy children in their school uniform, a light blue striped shirt and navy blue shorts with dark blue sweaters on, jump out in joy at the Government Botanical Gardens, Udhagamandalam from their yellow school bus with St. Charlis High School, Bhadravathi painted on it. Udhagamandalam abbreviated as was a town and municipality in the Indian state of and is the capital of the . It is a popular hill station located in the Nilgiri Hills, originally occupied by the Todas, a small pastoral tribal community who live on the isolated Nilgiri plateau in hill country of Southern India. The area came under the rule of the East India Company at the end of the 18th century. The economy of Ooty was mainly based on tourism and agriculture, majorly tea. The town was connected by the Nilgiri and Nilgiri Mountain Railway. Its natural beauty attracted tourists and was a very popular summer destination down south known as the queens of hill station. The Rose Garden of Ooty where the Charlisian kids headed showcased as many as 20000 different types of roses was one of the largest in the world and was a must-visit for tourists. Ooty was also famous for exotic Indian spices and the fresh scent of the locale proved it. From the parking bay kids ran towards the famous rose garden as the convent sisters Gracie, Sylvia and Precilla in their dark beige habits, black veils and sandals sweetly yelp with their usual chide, “Silence please. Children, form a line, do not run and please follow us.” But children eager to see the beautiful gardens, glass houses, lake and boating in the CLI – The Colt beautiful hill station seemed to ignore all warning. Children passed by the bright colourful streets with bakery glass shelves filled with homemade white ‘n’ brown chocolate bars, small pull carts and hut shops with sweater and monkey cap clad grandmas selling beautiful feather caps, colourful key chains, bear and puppy soft toys. At the entrance of the beautiful rose gardens, the children saw middle aged men dressed in semi-cowboy outfits with caps and boots staring with beseeching eyes eager to take them on a short ride on their horseback for little money. The entire place looked gleam, green and full of nature with birds humming and tourists enjoying nature as the Charlisianz ran all through the rose garden.

Just beside the gardens where the wood house road bends, from top view children could see a valley with lush green grasslands spread over with white baby breathe flower patches danced in the breeze and a small artistic rivulet ‘Siona’ flowing south with the village boys grazing cows. On the other side where the steep slopes of the valley floor rose majestically skywards, houses on the hilly side of the stream painted green, red and yellow looked very picturesque with kids playing around the colourful dainty streets.

The place where ‘Siona’ took a clear invisible turn stood CLI, a shiny palomino coated smart, fearless well-built feral horse who always wanted to discover wilderness beyond Ooty. With a white roman sword like patch mark on his forehead and a perfectly curvy chin groove, shiny hooves and black stocking with fluffy white coronet, thick long dark black tail, silky light golden brown mane with mixed silver brown strands on his crest that made him look

10 Kling Johnson unique among other ferals. The mane grown from poll to the withers was so silky that it just fluttered in the wind with every gallop. He had a beautiful light black forelock falling onto his forehead partly covering his sword like patch making him a masked beauty beast. CLI was very interested in star grazing and fond of adventure stories. He listened to one exciting story every day from his dad before going to sleep. CLI happily grazed with two of his lazy friends, a bay dun coloured ordinary feral Pany and dark bay coloured ordinary feral Macy.

***

Pany: Hey guys, life has been so boring, grazing these free pastures all the time. What are we supposed to do all our life? Come on guys, think of something adventurous.

Macy: Hey CLI, why not we try our luck with Richie the rancher on the top of Mary hill. Maybe he will fix us with some local horse riders who take kids for short rounds. And you know he has groomed some of the best horses in town.

CLI: Hey come on, come on! Are u guys crazy to carry kids on your back and show them your town? Please do not forget that we are ferals. We are born free, we will live free and die free as well. But anyways you guys are meant to be here all your life chewing this free green. But I am from the family who served and only rode the kings, the Kings of Mysooru.

Macy: But don’t you realise that your fantasy to ride the king can never be a reality. You know that no one cares for ferals like us, however smart or cool we look.

11 CLI – The Colt

Pany: But fantasy apart, CLI, you know that crossing over the Madumalai forest to reach the king’s palace in Mysooru can be extremely difficult.

Macy: I get goose bumps just thinking about that thick Madumalai forest and the brigand Beerappan. That unruly scary moustache of his I have heard makes my blood freeze.

CLI: Hey come on you scary bugs! Try this scare tactics with Filly’s near the gardens.

Pany: Anyways CLI, you can try your luck getting shot by Beerappan’s slug before you fulfil your dream. Hahhaahha.

CLI: Shut up, Pany. Let’s trot home.

CLI, Pany and Macy gently trot on the pastures dashing themselves and playing around as the sun sets in the beautiful valley.

CLI reached home. His mom, Sharon, a light brown coloured, plump and short ordinary feral with shiny hooves and light golden brown silky mane and fluffy white pastern and dad, John, a classic dun coloured old ordinary feral with that special chin groove as that of CLI’s were waiting for him. Sharon and John lay on warm dry hay spread on ground with a small fire lit a little away to keep them warm near a small tree house, a huge cylindrical beautiful stoneware water pot filled with water stood midst of tall silver oak trees. The trees bearing the most fascinating golden orange coloured flowers with brush like blooms and a patch of yellow buttercups spread everywhere made the locale eminently salubrious. The light brume which fell softly throughout the

12 Kling Johnson night made the climate wintry. It seemed to be a happy feral family except CLI’s mom was always worried about CLI’s future like every affectionate, emotional mom in India did for her kid.

Sharon: Where have you been, CLI, my baby. I say you should listen to dad and find a job with Richie the rancher rather than dreaming of the king’s palace. You know your dad’s not young anymore and it’s difficult for him to earn the beet pulp or wheat middling for us.

John: Yeah, Sharon. It’s been exactly a year since we last tasted beet pulp and wheat middling. It was during Christmas. Aaah! It’s mouthwatering.

CLI: Hey, come on Pups. Don’t worry. I promise one day I will earn loads of beet pulp and middling for life but I am really bored of your stereo recorded advice chants every day. I really want to get out of this place and do something big like my grandpa Herold Davis at the king’s palace. And I hope you understand I really am not interested in taking kids for rides as my friends do.

John: Dreams apart, CLI, you better try something soon. As grandpa Herold Davis always said, “Action speaks louder than dreams.” He had to be the only one great horse that joined the royal stable, served the kings and never came back. His words keep ringing in my ear for years now. All your day dreams don’t make any sense. Look at your friends who take care of their family earning a good sum in the local stables. We love you very much and need you by our side here in this beautiful heaven on earth.

13 CLI – The Colt

CLI: OMG… Pups, I am tired of this emotional blackmail every day. I am going for a stroll.

Sharon: Hey, CLI my boy where are you going? John, please tell him not to go out in the dark.

CLI: Chill, mom. I am just off to our regular spot, the hairpin bend no 36 to stargaze with my buddies.

Sharon: CLI my boy, however careful you are, life may sometimes throw you on a curve without guard rails. Be careful to hang on and be back soon.

John: Don’t worry, Sharon. He has always been a good baby boy of Yahweh. But come back early my naughty nut. I have an exciting story for you today.

CLI: Aiyyo Pups, don’t worry. And yeah I want to hear that exciting story before sleeping and Pups no repeated stories please.

John: Hahha yeah sure, CLI.

CLI, bored of hearing daily advice chants, happily walked to the 36th hairpin bend where the roads bended like a loosened bow. CLI met his friends at dusk every day to stargaze and view the vast tracts of Madumalai, which meant ancient hills. From being battlegrounds for the kings and to one of notorious sandal- smuggler Beerappan’s many hide-outs, Madumalai had a quite an interesting history. Madumalai’s importance was in its dense forests, which were a part of a contiguous belt that extended towards Mysooru. It was a veritable treasure trove of wildlife in its

14 Kling Johnson varied forms. The protected area was home to the several endangered and vulnerable species including the Indian elephant, Bengal tiger, gaur and Indian leopard. There were at least 266 species of birds in the sanctuary including the critically endangered Indian white-rumped vulture. When CLI reached the 35th bend he saw the peacefully spread Madumalai below with a cluster of stars hanging above like fruits on the tree. Tourists uphill had started a bonfire, merrily dancing and singing songs. CLI walked beside the rock cut edge of the road looking at Pany and Macy already waiting for him at a distance. He walked forward trying to get across the road to reach the parapet wall of the hairpin bend. Meanwhile the radio communication system in the firefighting utility QRV driven by two lanky firemen, Captain Ethos and Pathos in their firefighting uniform along the same curves kept repeating: “A forest fire was reported deep inside the jungles of Madumalai Tiger Reserve an hour ago, suspected as manmade camping fire by tourist. The fire is near Maasinagudi bordering . The guards and watchers and fire control vehicles of all units of the reserve to report immediately at Maasinagudi,” repeated the official voice. The firemen were alert when they heard the announcement on the walky-talky. Speeding on the firefighting QRV, they lost control and suddenly dashed into CLI, knocking him and pushing him aside to the edge of the road. CLI panicked on being hit by the vehicle and lay unconscious on ground. The QRV steadily stopped a few feet away from Pany and Macy blocking CLI who had collapsed on the highway. Pany and Macy saw the red vehicle reverse a bit, stop for a few seconds and then started off leaving a trail of dust behind. Having no clue

15 CLI – The Colt that CLI was the one who was hit and being loaded on the QRV they waited for him to come.

Two white feathered female Indian eagle owl, with a distinctive circular face and large forward-facing orange coloured eyes, let out a call to alert CLI’s friends.

The QRV vroomed in the hilly hairpin bends of Kalhatti Ghat. It is by far among the steeper routes and is generally limited to short wheel-base vehicles. It had a total of thirty-six hairpin bends and closed overnight. The QRV cut the corners and entered the highway going for an hour towards the north. When the road deviated from highway inside the dense thick Madumalai, they came to a screeching halt.

Captian Ethos: What’s wrong with you Pathos? You almost killed a horse. He seems to be dead.

Pathos: Oh no. This will be my third time running over an animal driving for an emergency in this same stretch. Come let’s dump him here before dawn.

Captian Ethos: Looks like we are lucky. He’s not dead. Thank God nobody was around in the bends or I swear the villagers would have hit us black and blue this time for running over animals.

Madana, a binocellate Indian male black king cobra, uniformly black in colour with two circular ocelli patterns connected by a curved line, evoking the image of spectacles on the rear of the broad hood with a body length of 5 m and a body diameter of over 12 cm was

16 Kling Johnson the longest venomous species of snake in Madumalai. Maana, an Indian female grey cobra flaunting her unique heart shaped mark with a body length of 4 m and a body diameter of over 10 cm and slightly leaner was Madana’s wife. Both of them raised their upper parts of the bodies and expanded their hoods.

Popping their heads out of a huge termite mound they suddenly pulled back their head inside in shock to see the QRV coming to a screeching halt towards them. The firemen, Captian Ethos and Pathos jumped out, pulled CLI out of QRV and silently dumped him near to the termite mounds vanishing in the dark.

Maana and Madana came out hissing at each other in shock to find a huge animal.

Madana: Seems like a horse, Maana.

Maana: Yeah. That looks like a carcass of the horse.

Madana: Well I know it’s the Brigands again. It seems like they have now started killing horses too for money.

Maana: Yeah. Come on, Madana, let’s slither in. Why stir in dark?

Madana: Yes. Let’s go back and check it out in the dawn.

Both Maana and Madana slid inside their termite mounds, not to risk their life out at the odd hour.

***

17 CLI – The Colt

With the early mild sun rays piercing through the tall green Niligiri trees Maana popped her head out of the termite mounds at dawn to check on CLI’s body.

Maana: Hey Madana, come out quickly. He seems to be breathing.

Madana: What is it early in the morning my silky smooth?

Maana: Look! That carcass has come to life.

Madana: What?

Madana pops his head out and sees the horse breathing heavily. They moved towards the horse, hissing loudly. Sighting danger from quickly moving cobras a brown three striped Indian palm squirrel Wilona curving up her tail on the highest branch continuously chirped to alert the other squirrels that had begun their day collecting some nuts on ground for their young ones as CLI slowly woke up. When he saw the two large cobras standing right in front of him expanding their hood, he got scared and screamed his heart out.

CLI: Hey, are you crazy you ugly creepers? You scared the hell out of me.

Madana: Relax friend, don’t be ophidiophobic. I am Madana and she’s my wife Maana. We are here to help you. We have been staying here in this dense forest for ages. But we have never seen the brigands dump a horse. Last night we got to see that too.

18 Kling Johnson

CLI: The brigands? No way. I just vaguely remember a red truck on the bends hit me and I fell unconscious last night.

Maana: Oh I see. So who are you and where are you from?

CLI: I am CLI, CLI –The Colt.

Madana: That name seems to be unique and interesting.

Maana: Where are you from?

CLI: I am from Ooty.

Madana: Ooty! Then what are you doing here? Do you know you are now too far in the dense Madumalai reserve bordering Karnataka? You run hundred miles to the south and you will reach Ooty and forty miles to the north is Mysooru.

CLI: Mysooru! Wow that sounds really interesting.

Maana: Well don’t worry CLI. We will guide you back home.

CLI: Thank you but sorry, I would rather choose forty over hundred and head north to serve the kings at Mysooru.

Maana: Serve the kings? What’s that?

CLI: Yeah. Serve the kings like my grandpa Herold Davis. He served the Odeyaar’s and so will I.

Maana: Seems like you have lost your mind after the dash.

19 CLI – The Colt

Madana: Listen my friend, to serve the kings you should be more alive.

CLI: Yeah. Of course I am very much alive Mr. Creepy. What do you mean?

Madana: I hope you understand where you are. The turf you are now standing on is where Beerappan, with his band of thugs, is poaching vigorously these days. My dear friend, he doesn’t spare anyone who comes his way. So I say you better run back south and save yourself or else for sure Beerappan will squeeze every drop of blood from your veins for entering these woods.

CLI: Hey Creepys come on, I have made up my mind to run north. And you both please stay out of my way.

Maana: That’s called death by wish Madana. Don’t stop him. Let Lord Shiva save him from Beerappan’s slug.

Madana: Good luck is all I can say. Just follow this beaten track down north till you find a Task force security check post exactly 38 miles away and then 2 miles ahead a highway leading to Mysooru and remember one thing, CLI, “na bibethi kadachana” for whatever comes your way.

CLI: Thanks for the info and sorry I couldn’t seriously understand your Japanese lingo, “na bibethi kadachana.”

Madana: Come on CLI, that’s no Japanese. I would request you to be patient to know what I told all by yourself if you get out of Madumalai alive.

20 Kling Johnson

Maana: We can only help you by praying to Shiva that we don’t get to see a real horse carcass.

CLI: Okay. Thank you, Creepys. I will move now. Bye!

CLI neglected all the warnings by Maana and Madana and proudly galloped towards the dense bypath pointing north. CLI suddenly veered into the jungle, ran hundred yards in the wild and found a large circular green signboard with black painted letter’s hung by the forest department. It had an ugly faced angry white tiger painted in the centre and it said:

MADUMALAI TIGER RESERVE. ENTERING THE RESERVE CAN BE DANGEROUS. By order of the Government of Tamil Nadu

CLI stared at the information board written below in Tamil and felt a bit scared. The face of the white tiger and the warning board brought a little fear in him as he swallowed back his saliva. He shook his head, wanting to fulfil his dream and nimbly raced hard against the sunny winds in the greens of Madumalai which was as ancient as the hill to reach his destiny.

CLI was being followed by a huge white animal, preying on him from behind the huge trees and planning to attack him at the perfect time. The white animal followed CLI side by side hiding behind the trees matching up with CLI’s gallops.

21 CLI – The Colt

Racing through the woods, CLI jauntily galloped in the dense green. He stopped to see a troop of cute tiny faced langur monkeys mostly grey in colour, except for both its black hands and black face, vigorously shaking the branches of the deciduous jujube fruit tree reaching a height of 10–12 metres with thorny branches.

While the langurs dropped fruits from tall trees, few Indian chitals, also known as spotted deer, standing below the trees were feeding on the fruits, exhibiting their great bond of love and friendship. CLI was closely watching as the langurs hanging on other branches groomed one another by combing through the fur with their fingers picking off lice and other debris. Female langurs with their infants tightly clinging on to their belly cuddled and kissed their cute babies. The tiny ones played with one another, wrestling and chasing one another through the trees and balancing while falling down holding the twigs.

Two male langurs found in solitary play, one batting about pebbles while the other jumped from one branch to another and hanging on to a branch using his prehensile tail.

The langurs saw CLI galloping and spoke among themselves using a wide variety of sounds, a few harsh, cough barks, rumble, screams, grunts, honks and hiccups making their own soothing music as the female head of the troop Pinchu, the Manganna sang a beautiful song to attract others. The langurs were twisting and moving their heads left and right, anxiously watching CLI’s gallops. They were eager to see how he would be attacked by the white animal. Singing and actively jumping from tree to tree along with

22 Kling Johnson their cute little babies, they kept CLI puzzled as he trotted happily.

The white animal ran quickly, catching up with CLI. And suddenly, he confronted him, blocking his way with his huge paw. He waylaid CLI with a loud roar scaring CLI to death as he went down on his knees. Though scared to death, he pretended to be brave and maintained eye contact with the huge white animal. CLI saw rays of light piercing through his bullet bitten ear. Raajana Huli was impressed with CLI’s attitude and calmed down. Raajana Huli, which means, the king’s tiger in Kannada, was an old Bengal white tiger. He was unique with his stammering roar and distinctive due to the colour of his milk white fur and sharp acuminate dark black stripes with his missing canines. When compared to other orange Bengal tigers, Raajana Huli looked much heavier and had a fully grown body 3 metres in length. Raajana Huli had a circular bullet hole in the right ear which could be seen clearly. It still looked blood red and fresh like a new shot because of his milk white fur. Summoning all his strength, CLI slowly got up while Raajana Huli walked left and right in anger.

Raajana Huli: How dare you enter my king’s forest without permission you Brown Meat!

CLI: King’s forest! Well I thought everything belonged to my Yahweh. So who’s the new king of the forest?

Raajana Huli: Grrrrrrr stop your jest. You are lucky I have lost my canines or else I would have torn you apart right now. You better understand that every insect which crawls

23 CLI – The Colt into this reserve should have the permission of my king, Beerappan, The Robin Hood of Madumalai.

CLI: The world knows Beerappan as a brigand. How come you call him Robin Hood?

Raajana Huli: Well listen then, that’s a story you have to know if you have to know my king, his anger, his style and his dynamism.

Beerappan along with his comrades Sethukuzhi, Arumuga, Deva, Vela and Shanmuga captured my mother Sudarshini. Her legs being tied, she roared for help. The comrades surrounding me with their rifles shouted slogans to their king. All the helpless wild animals at Madumalai gathered near his tent house as I innocently cried for help near the camp fire blazing high. Beerappan roared like a tiger, twirling his moustache and walking near the blaze with his bolt action sleek rifle atop his shoulder. He shot my mom with his gun in front of all the other animals because my mom informed the forest officer Pandipalli Srinivasan about one of his recent hideouts in Doddabetta. As a cub, I howled helplessly in pain and to this day the thoughts stay as fresh as a flower in my heart.

***

Meese Muniswamy Beerappan popularly known as Chinna Veerappan (Little Veerappan) was a famous, notorious sandalwood and ivory smuggler. He started killing elephants for the latter and became extremely active in the scrub and forest lands covering about 6,000 km² in the Indian

24 Kling Johnson states of Karnataka, Tamil Nadu and . Beerappan was considered to be one of the world’s most dangerous outlaws who was a nightmare to the police officials of three states. The wilds of Bandipur-Mudumalai were his turf, well known for poaching sandalwood and elephant tusks. He religiously started killing those who resisted his activities. His victims were police officers, forest officials and informants. Beerappan took up crime when he was just 10 years old by joining the forest brigand gang. Clad in olive green uniform with a mild pot belly which mars his otherwise wiry physique. A good luck amulet made from tiger teeth on his hairless chest. His favourite weapon a 0.303 bolt action police rifle, which he stole from a police station was always mounted on his shoulder. He was a dashing bandit who had a magnificent curvy handlebar moustache which was famously known as the Beerappan moustache. His wife Dhairyalaxmi reportedly appreciated his notoriety and his moustache and married him because of that. His moustache was so famous worldwide that a Chinese company named their moustache wax as BEERAPPAN.

Animals in Madumalai that day came out of their dens and nest hearing Beerappan’s roar. Deer, peacocks, wild gaurs, bears, langur monkeys, eagles, vultures, mongooses and every other animal watched helplessly. Bats on branches of nearby trees hung upside down popping out their bulbous eye balls. The fawns, calves and baby mongoose hid themselves behind their mothers scared watching this dreadful act helplessly. The Indian parakeet just flew away unbearable to hear his shrewd vicious laugh. The Neelgai blue bulls which can be rarely seen came out to witness

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