Neesha the Tiger

Neesha is a Tigress

Many, many years ago, in a land far away, a Tiger roamed the jungle. Her name was Neesha and she lived in a country that has long since passed from the memories of those who keep track of such things.

It is said she was beautiful beyond what we can believe in these days where magic has been replaced by faith. It is said her fur glistened in the moonlight when she hunted, and so great was her brilliance that she blinded her prey to all but her eyes; for her eyes reflected the moonlit hues of the jungle flowers so that no one, not even her closest friends, knew the true color of her eyes. Yet it was those beautiful eyes that many a beast last saw before falling to her fierce hunger.

All the beasts of the jungle loved Neesha, for she killed quickly and she killed only when there was need. She ended the suffering of the ill and the lame. All who understood the way of things understood she did this as part of the unfolding of life.

When she was not hunting, she would talk to other beasts, including even a man named Raj, who lived in the village and had met her when they were both very young. They played in secret on the edge of the river in the shade of the giant Revol trees; where mothers were loathe to seek for their children; for the leaves of the Revol tree stung the skin of all whom they touched. But Neesha and Raj never felt the sting of the Revol trees, not even once; because the Revol trees delighted in the laugher of the two young ones.

Neesha had not seen Raj for many moons times many moons, for had not King Bastian roared that it was not the nature of her kind to be kind to men? Had not the king further said that all tigers must destroy all men on sight without question or mercy? He had. But still Neesha longed to see Raj. And as is the nature of these things, she got her wish.

One day, as she walked through the jungle toward the river, she thought of the king and shuddered; for his hatred of men had spread to all living things and had made him sick. He killed for the joy he found in it. She had seen him slay young deer for sport. Neesha feared no one except for one, and that was Bastian, the king of the tigers, and the ruler of all the beasts in the jungle, including her.

As she walked toward the river, she heard a low moaning voice call, “Neesha, my friend, help me.” She recognized that moan. It came from the grove of Revol trees ahead. It was Raj. Forgetting her fear of Bastian, she rushed to the grove. Upon the bloody ground sprawled Raj, and he said, “Neesha, be kind and slay me so that my suffering may end. My cuts are many and deep. My arm is mauled, broken, and twisted. Even should I live, I will not use it again. And my face, Neesha, will never be beautiful again.”

Neesha said, “Who did this thing to you?” But she knew.

Raj said, “It was your King, Bastian, and had I not escaped to Revol trees I would be dead now. He came upon me unawares as I picked mushrooms. I ran for the grove and he did not follow me inside.”

Neesha said, “I will help you.”

Raj said, “Again, Neesha, my friend, I ask you to slay me.”

“But, my friend, you are yet young. Your arm may heal and your cuts close. You will be strong again and agile again.” But she cringed at the sight of his torn face and said nothing about it.

“Neesha, you must slay me. I will be a burden to my tribe. I will be able to neither hunt nor sow.”

“But you are my friend!”

“It is your nature. We must all do that which we must do. It is the way of things. Slay me.”

“Perhaps then,” said Neesha, “I will change my nature. I will become a man. Do the men of your village kill other men?”

“No, of course not, I have heard of such things happening in distant lands, but not here, not in my home. It is not our nature.”

“What is your nature?”

Raj paused before he replied, “It is to love.”

“Then I shall learn to love. I will help you.”

“But if Bastian finds out, he will kill us both.”

Neesha thought, and then she said, her voice quavering just the tiniest bit, “I am not afraid of Bastian. I am a tiger. I am mighty.” A sly look flitted through her rainbow eyes. “Still it is not wise to court the wrath of one so fierce. Fine, I will eat you. But I am not hungry now. If I kill you now, you will rot in the heat before I eat again. I will take you home with me.”

And with that, Neesha gently lifted Raj onto her back and carried him to her cave on the side of Mount Yoj. Inside she sat him down on a bed of grass. “If I am to eat you, I must keep you fat. I will go find some berries for you.” Neesha went into the valley below and picked as many berries as she could hold in her mouth, and since she had the mouth of a tiger, that was actually quite a lot.

Later, as Raj lay and ate with slow contentment, Neesha said, “If I am to eat you, I must fetch water. I cannot have you shrivel up like an old seed.” So off Neesha went again. She found a gourd, split it in half, and carried water back to Raj.

After Raj drank, Neesha said, “Now that you are no longer thirsty or hungry, you must sleep. I have heard that eating a man who is tired is bad for one’s health.”

“have heard that if a tiger eats a man, it is bad for the man’s health,” snorted Raj, “but I have never heard it the other way around!”

Neesha roared her laughter and the whole jungle shook with her mirth. As her laughter subsided, she said, “Sleep friend. Sleep. And I will sing you a lullaby.” And sing she did, and had not the animals of the jungle known her, they would have been terrified that monsters had invaded the jungle as her mews, roars, and snarls filled the night air. Raj smiled, furtively stuffed his ears with grass, and fell asleep.

One day turned into two and two into many days and many days turned into months. They spoke of God and the creation of the earth. They spoke of love and joy and laughter. They spoke of good and lasting things. And then one fresh morning, Raj stood in the clearing in front of the cave and waved his arm. “I think my arm is fine,” he said. “It looks horrible, but I can use it and still you have not eaten me. I must insist that you eat me as we agreed.”

“But, my friend, I cannot do that. I have heard the flesh of a human, and I do not mean to offend you, tastes like chicken. And I do not like chicken!”

Raj laughed and laughed. “You are a sly one! You never intended to eat me. I knew that all along. You are, Neesha, the best of friends.” Raj paused in his talk, and tears trickled down his torn cheeks. “I fear to go, and I fear to stay.”

Neesha said, “It is your face. You fear returning to your village with a face so violated. Do you fear you will not be accepted?”

“Yes, that is my fear. Even my own mother will flinch when she sees me.”

“Then stay with me! I have always thought of you as ugly. How the females of your kind could find you anything else is beyond me!”

Raj laughed and said, “No, I must not stay. I must leave soon, for each day I stay is one more chance for Bastian to discover us. He will kill us.”

But it was too late. “Oh, yes, I will. The man is wise.” Bastian stepped out of the jungle and stood in front of the two friends in the clearing before the cave. He was huge, even for a tiger. He stood nearly as tall as an elephant. “So it is true. “You care for a man as you would for one of your one kind!” Bastian snarled his disgust. “You are a disgrace to tigers. Move aside that I may slay and devour this man after the nature of our kind! He escaped me once, but he will not do so again.” So spoke Bastian, the king of the tigers.

“I will not move,” said Neesha, even though her heart beat fast and her legs trembled. “He is my friend. And I am learning to love. I do not need to follow after the nature of our kind.

Then die,” roared Bastian and he leapt for Neesha’s throat. The two tigers rolled in the grass, but clearly Bastian was the bigger, the stronger, and the more vicious.

“Run, Raj, run. Soon I shall die! Save yourself.”

“I will not run,” roared Raj. He picked up a rock, one as large as the head of tiger. He rushed toward the swirling tigers, and just as Bastian grabbed Neesha by the throat, he smashed the rock into Bastian’s head. Bastian screamed with pain, released Neesha, and with one swipe of his razor paw, he cut Raj deeply in the belly. Raj stumbled and fell to the ground limp. Then Bastian turned toward Neesha, shook his head, took a step toward her, and collapsed dead at her feet.

Neesha leapt to Raj, sniffed him, and nudged him with her nose. “Get up Raj. Do not die. We are friends, the best of friends. You cannot die.” But Raj was as a stone. Neesha roared her grief and began to cry. Her tears fell and washed the dead eyes of her friend.

A weak voice said, “Do not drown me, Sweet Neesha! If I lived a thousand years, never would a day of that time be as dear as one day with you. You have taught me about love. In my arrogance, I thought myself the teacher. But now I am the student. What greater gift can there be?” Weakly, he reached toward Neesha and stroked her nose. And with that, Raj died.

They say that Neesha cried until her tears formed a mighty river, which to this day flows to the sea; and upon its shores, many worship and call the pure waters of the River Raj holy. They say Neesha roared until the gods of thunder began to imitate her, for until that time, thunder was quiet. And now the thunder screams from the sky, “Raj! Raj!” They say her heart broke open and from it grew a single red rose; the beauty of which caused earth to weep in the knowledge that never again would a thing of such beauty be born. And to this day it is known as the Rose of Raj.

“Now I know what it is to be human,” cried Neesha. “I have been a fool. Who but a fool would seek such sorrow as love?”

In the heavens high above, so the story goes, God heard the mighty roars of loss pouring like lava from the mouth of the tigress. And it is said that God knew that a mighty Buddha had been born; for there was no restraint in the tears of Neesha. She cried with all her heart. God saw the love that had been born in the womb of this tiger, and the love was pure. So God took Neesha up into the heavens and gave her a task that only one with a tender heart could undertake. Neesha became a storyteller, and even now she tells stories to angels about her days with Raj.

And of the angels, who understand her deep wisdom, never tire of her stories; for they know she is teaching the most profound of all truths. Love, true love, the kind that is sufficient unto itself, sets us free from ourselves so that we may embrace it totally; and as we embrace love, we find something precious.

Blessings,

John C. Conley

Questioner: Baba, there are those who say that you are an enlightened master. Are you?

Baba Ram Jahn: No, child, I am not enlightened. There was a time when I thought I might have been, but I decided the glare from the sun had made me see double. However, I do love the twilight. So I may be entwilightened. And I think I would be lighter if I walked more. Or I could quit being so serious and lighten up. Or possibly I am an enlightened minor. But if that is so, why am I gray? No, Child, I think the highest title I can claim is that of one who is delighted!

Questioner: No, Baba, I think you could claim the title of The Most Silly One!

Baba: No, Child, there is one who is far more silly than I am.

Questioner: But, Baba, who could that possibly be?

Baba: Be still, Child, love and laugh. Then you will hear.