The Tiger-Artiste

Our tiffin recess is from one to two in the afternoon. In earlier days it used to extend
up to half past two, they say. Our office, too, had opened for business only at eleven in the
morning. If one had one's morning brunch at home at around ten-thirty and eventually
reached office at half past eleven, leaving for snacks shortly thereafter, at one oclock, would
have been impossible. That was why our cafeteria attracted a real crowd only at two o' clock.
From eleven the management advanced the opening hour to ten-thirty, and last month they
issued orders to begin work at ten. So, tiffin recess is scheduled from one to two. Closing
hour, too, has been extended from five to six in the evening.
However, our work has remained the same. Those in the production department
carpenters, electricians and laboratory technicians have always worked an eight-hour shift.
Its the same with people in the accounts department: whether or not any work gets done
anywhere, they must write accounts all through the year. Then the telephone operators: there
is no recess or holiday for telephones. Therefore, only those who are not in any of these
departments have the chance to relax from time to time during office hoursfor days, weeks
or even months together. I recall one period when our studio didnt produce any film for a
year and a half. You could draw your salary without doing any work for a year and a half, put
your legs on the desk and sleep during office hours, let your hair turn grey, gain fat around
your belly and make room for diabetes, and since your thoughts are aimless, develop a
darting, shifty look in your eyes and bring in plenty of prattle in your speech; then, when
some real work comes your way after eighteen months, you could feel enthusiastic and
excited that this period of forced inactivity has come to an end. Feeling excited, you could
also stumble at the same time because youve totally lost the habit of working. It was during
the period when we were expecting the excitement and awkwardness to arrive any day now
that he appeared before us one afternoon, just as we were enjoying a round of betel nut and
tobacco after tiffin recess.
What can we do for you, 'pa? Sharma asked him. There was a time when Sharma
was seen only in trousers. After working as a sub-inspector of police, he wrote and published
plays and short stories, earned a name for himself and became a key person in our studios
story department. In those golden days, he had gone scouting for outdoor locations on his
motorcycle, with our boss perched on its pillion. Now he wore a veshti and was addicted to

chewing tobacco. Only the square set of his shoulders hinted that he had a physique that was
once shaped by a regimen of hard exercise.
It was a small room crammed with three antique desks, big and small. Sharma, seated
behind the largest, could be deemed the rooms presiding officer. There was one extra chair
besides the three we sat on. All our chairs were antiques of different styles. In the extra chair,
one leg shorter than the others. Whenever someone tried to sit on it, it would tilt dangerously
to one side, churning the persons guts for a moment. Now our visitor stood in front of us,
gripping the back of that treacherous chair.
What do you want, 'pa? Sharma asked him.
I came to your house on Saturday, saar.
But I wasn't in town last Saturday! said Sharma.
I came in the morning, saar. You were at home, repairing an umbrella.
Oh, it was you! Velayudham, right?
No, saar. Kader. 'Tagar Foight' Kader.
So, you'd come, then?
Yes, saar. Vellai had told me, saar. To look up ayya in his house.
Who is this Vellai?
Vellai, saar. Agent Vellai.
Sharma seemed to understand now. Vellai was the agent who collected men and
women by the hundreds and brought them to our studio whenever we had to film big crowds.
Apart from being part of the crowd, no acting was required of them. Each person was given
food for the day and two rupees as wages. Vellai took a rupee as commission.
We are not shooting any crowd scene now, 'pa, said Sharma.
I know, saar. He said that if I looked you up, you might give me a role.
Who said that?
Like I told you, saar. Vellai, saar.
Sharma looked at us. We stared at this man, our visitor. He was quite short. He must
have once had a well-muscled body, but he was now so thin that his shoulder bones were
sticking out. His prominent jawbone made his dark cheeks look abnormally sunken. Most of

the men brought in by Vellai were in a similar condition. Even if we filmed the splendour and
prosperity of Ramarajya, the kingdom of Lord Ram, the citizens looked as though they were
famine-struck.
I'll send word to you through Vellai, said Sharma. We leaned back in our chairs. The
interview was over.
Yes, saar, he said. Then his voice grew thin: If you can give me something right
away, it would be a great help, saar.
But we haven't even started shooting, 'pa. Don't you know, they shoot all the crowd
scenes only at the end?
Dont mean that, saar. Please give me a role.
What role can we give you, pa? Our casting assistant is over there. Give him all your
details and go.
I was the casting assistant. I had noted down in my register particulars like name, age,
height and address of thousands of individuals like our visitor. From those notes, if we
dropped a postcard to four of them, three would come back with a stamp saying Addressee
has moved. Then Vellai became our sole recourse.
But he didnt turn in my direction. He seemed quite certain that Sharma was the most
important person among the three of us.
I can get something only if you put in a word, saar.
Do you know how to swim? asked Sharma.
Swimming? The man asked Sharma in turn. Then he said, A little, saar.
A little won't do. We have to shoot a scene where a man dives into a river from a
cliff and swims away. You won't be able to do that.
I can do tagar foight, saar. They call me Tagar Foight Kader.
What's that, tagar foight?
Tagar foight, saar, tagar, don't you know tagar?
All of us were paying attention by now. It made no sense at all.
He said, Puli, saar. Puli. Puli foight.
Oh, tiger fight, is it? Tiger fight. You fight with tigers, do you?

No, saar. I wear a costume like puli and dance. People call it tagar foight, right?
Oh, you wear a tiger costume! Why would we need a fellow in a tiger costume for a
film? You wear a tiger costume and dance, do you? Okay, okay, when Vellai comes here, I'll
definitely send word if we find anything for you.
I am very good at tagar foight, saar. It will be like a real tiger, saar.
If we want a real tiger, well get a real tiger, wont we?
No, saar. What I do will be exactly like a real tiger. Shall I show you, saar?
No, no. Theres no need.
Just watch for a few minutes, saar. Where would a big man like you get to see a
tagar-dance?
Why, during Muharram and Ramzan processions every year, the streets are full of
people doing tiger dance.
But my act is quite different, saar. Itll be like a real tiger. He took out a tigers
head from somewhere. Only then did we notice that he had brought a cloth bag with him.
The tiger's head was only the heads outer skin. In a second, he wore it over his face like a
mask and tugged the mask near the chin for a tight fit. He turned into someone with his own
eyes and a panthers face. He scanned the room quickly for one or two seconds.
Besh, said Sharma appreciatively. We were staring intently at Kader.
He raised his arms above his head and relaxed his body. Then he bent down with his
hands on the floor and stood like a four-legged animal, turning his face from side to side.
Besh, said Sharma again.
Like a cat, he raised just the middle of his back, contorted and shook his body. Then
he opened his maw. We were stunned. We had never before heard such a terrifying roar at
such close proximity.
He roared once more and then swung only his behind this way and that. The next
moment, he leapt onto the empty chair in the room and crouched on its narrow seat, with all
his four paws drawn in. The chair shook noisily. I cried out: Aiyo!
He jumped on my desk with a four-legged leap. In the blink of an eye, he had leapt on
Sharma's desk. Several papers, books and a packet of betel preparation were strewn

haphazardly on it. His feet didnt touch even a single object. He crouched once again on the
desk, glowered at Sharma and let out a blood-curdling roar. From the table, he leapt up
straight towards the ceiling. All of us had shouted Oh! in sheer terror.
It was an old building. At a height of ten feet, a ledge, two-inches wide, ran along the
walls on all sides. A little above the ledge on the wall on one side was a small window with a
single bar across which served as a ventilator. It was thickly covered with dust, filth and
cobwebs.
He sprang on his four limbs, jumping higher than a man's height, and fit himself on
that two-inch ledge above our heads for a second. Then he held the bar of the ventilator with
his hands and roared again like a tiger.
Careful, 'pa! Careful! Sharma shouted. At that height, the ceiling fan was whirring
in front of his face. There were scarcely a few inches between him and those fan blades.
From that height, he leapt directly onto a chair. He sprang from there and jumped to
the floor.
We were in a state of shock and alarm. His eyes flashed like a tigers inside the
panthers mask. The panther opened its maw one more time and let out a roar. His body went
slack the next moment. He got up and stood on his feet.
Even Sharma couldnt manage to say, Besh! Kader had taken off his panther-mask.
All of us were completely dumbstruck. Kader was the one who recovered his wits
first.
I'll certainly see what I can do, 'pa, said Sharma. His tone had changed drastically.
Kader paid him obeisance with folded hands.
Where do you live? Sharma asked him. Mirsahibpet, he answered, and mentioned
a door number and the name of a lane. I noted them down. Then he said hesitantly: I don't
know for how much longer I'll be staying there.
Why? asked Sharma.
No, saar, he began, and then fell suddenly at Sharma's feet.
Get up, 'pa. Get up, 'pa, Kader, pleaded Sharma, who was highly perturbed. Kader
stood up and wiped his eyes. My wife has asked me not to come anywhere near our home,
saar, he told Sharma. He was the man who had been a tiger a few minutes ago.

So many months since I earned anything, saar. What will she do? Four children, saar.
So small, all of them. He was crying now.
Then something occurred to Sharma, and he asked Kader, Have you eaten today?
He said, No, saar. There was no need to confirm that he had gone hungry not only
that day, but for several days.
Sharma put his hand into his pocket. We, too, foraged in ours. The change added up to
two rupees. Sharma said, Here, take this. Go to our cafeteria and have a good meal.
He said, No, saar.
What do you mean, 'no'? Go and eat first, said Sharma.
Get me some role, ayya, Kader begged through his tears.
I had never seen Sharma so angry before. If you refuse to accept money, how will it
ever come to you? Even if it's a beaten coin, it's still Lakshmi, pa!
Kader wiped his tears and took the money. Giving you a role is not in my hands, but
Ill do what I can, said Sharma gently. Go, go and eat something first! Then he turned to
me and said, Take him to the cafeteria and make him eat. I got up at once.
He said, No, saar. I'll go and eat. Ill go by myself and eat. Then he bowed to us
again and left the room.
We were silent for a while. Sharma spoke aloud to himself: What can we do for this
fellow? We are filming a king-and-queen story now, aren't we?
But he did keep Kader in mind. When the story department met again two weeks
later, he managed to obtain the story departments approval for filming a sequence where the
hero sneaked into the enemys fortress in the guise of a tiger. When the hero was shown
performing tiger dance, Kader could play his dupe. We could get him at least a hundred
rupees.
I dropped him a postcard. It came back in four days: Addressee not found.
Sharma took Vellai along and looked for Kader. We also enquired everywhere in our
attempt to track him down. The day for filming the scene where the hero entered the enemys
fortress drew closer and closer. Kader couldnt be traced.

But even if we had found him, it wouldnt have been of much use. A film released
during that month featured a scene in which the hero did a kavadi dance with folk music
playing in the background. That scene was drawing unmanageably large crowds all over
Tamilnadu.
It was decided that the hero in our film would perform a karagam dance.

Translated by N Kalyan Raman from the original Pulikkalaignan (1973) by Ashokamitran