Loins and Tigers

Have you ever noticed that we as a people, in the subcontinent, always seem to liken ourselves, in many metaphorical ways, to the family of big cats. Nothing less. There is the happy phenomenon of humans preferring to choose tigers as companions closer to themselves, more than with their predecessor monkeys, in a case of self-styled kinship.

History and the anthropological sciences have firmly established the connection between the simian family and the transformation to its current avatar. Therefore it is impossible to see what lies in common between a four-legged, roaring, 400 pound symbol of fearsome terror and a two legged, cringing, 120-plus pound, double-talking, social-climbing symbol of unpredictability! Perhaps, its a proud yearning to be compared to the big cat that prompts humans to convert a tiger or a lion into a facebook friend.

So, when Gurcharan Das proceeded to compare India with a giant, lumbering elephant than an aggressive, stalking tiger in his book –The Elephant Paradigm, he may have had hit the bull’s eye in terms of the right description but I have known people who didn’t quite seem impressed when told that India is like an elephant.
“Do you know India is not like a tiger”
“Yeah? Really? Whats India like, then?”
“Ëlephant …because it is big, moves slowly but surely.”

The expression that exploded on their faces was similar to the one big stars have when given a rear seat in an important cine awards ceremony.

What is this fetish for tigers that we are so quick to label people who we like as tigers or shers. I have often wondered why it can’t be horses or giraffes! Or, why not elephants, since we are trying to examine whether we, as a nation are more like elephants. Lets see this. You would sometimes pat your friend on the back praising his tough qualities (especially if you are from northern India) and exclaim, “ Oe ye toh sher hai.” Instead, try saying “Oe ye toh hathi hai,” and brace up for his response which I can assure you will be unsavoury at worst and unpleasant at best (depending upon his mood and body mass index), despite your well intentioned and creative praise! And to rub salt into your wounds, people will tell you how wrong you were in insulting a friend, despite your logic that you were merely replacing one regal species of the animal kingdom with another – an elephant at that, which is bigger, wiser and definitely more appropriate in this case.

I once noticed how a friend, who is gifted with a towering height, felt deeply offended when someone referred, in another such well meaning moment, to his young son as having the potential to be a giraffe like his father. Taking severe offence to such a reference to the spotted animal, he recounted how he pejoratively thought of the person making the remark as nothing short of a hippopotamus (given the similarity of physical frame). I fully appreciate the concerns of a father who wants the best of the animal world for his son, However, isn’t it strange how we feel for the big cat as if it was waiting to be compared to us.

Remember the none-too-pleasant comparisons we hear about people. An owl is said to be wise but ulloo ki tarah is not exactly how you would like your wisdom to be assessed. A dog is a man’s best friend but the phrase kutte jaisa doesn’t necessarily gift you with a certificate of a close pal. A donkey carries heavy load but let me know whether you found any tireless, hardworking homo sapien remotely willing to be associated with our braying hero. A lot has already been said about the monkey and the elephant. Bandar jaisa will mean you haven’t as yet graduated from your tree dwelling. But sher jaisa will almost certainly split your mouth wide open, as if you are too modest to be compared with our regal, carnivorous friend. Perhaps the reason lies in our overwhelming fondness for the majesty of kings and dynasties!

Surely its not something that we believe has come up overnight. What about our past? Remember the people whom we praised, admired and were enamoured of, ones we referred to as tigers or lions. Mansur Pataudi, the Indian cricket captain of the 60s with one eye and a brave heart was a rare tiger – an endangered species in the sport in India even today, Sheikh Abdullah, the lion of Kashmir was made out to be the only sher that survived the snow in the valley, in the days when tourists (later substituted by terrorists) trekked Gulmarg and AK47 was just an innocuous number plate on cars. Shyama Prasad Mookerjee and Lala Lajpat Rai were all big cats who bearded the British lions in their den. Even the silver screen had a loin (never mind the mispronounced, ungainly, cringe worthy physiological reference)– Ajit , whose bristling dialogues were the stuff that inspires modern corporate lingo to this day – especially useful in issuing severe reprimands during performance assessment (Raabert , isko microprocessor me daal do, bit by bit pink-slip mil jayega) and tough takeover deals (Peter, yeh takeover nahi chahta toh ise overtake kar lo). Imagine this entire obsession with the big cats despite the warnings of one Jim Corbett in Man-eaters of Kumaon.

People and structures of all hues have received the epithet – be it terror types like the Tamil Tigers and Tiger Memon (of the Bombay blasts) or dhabas on way from Delhi to Chandigarh, most of them bearing that ubiquitous name - Shere e Punjab! This leads me to believe the word sher has a more imposing ring to it than the word tiger or lion (unless you pronounced it like Ajit). It is more daunting, commanding and has a directness to it.

A friend once told me a story of two Shers in a village near Lahore during the pre-partition era. The village had a direct battle to elect its chief and there were two contenders to it - Sher Singh and Sher Khan. When the debate ensued, Sher Singh sold the line to the villagers that he was mightier since he was blessed with two big cats in his name – sher and singh. Which meant he was equal to two shers! The people bought the line. He won and was duly elected the chief of the village - Sheron Wali Gali. And his grandson, who narrated the story to me, carries the mane. Shamsher Singh – that’s the name! Some Sher this!