Teacher, I Want Some Meat- Part 1

Shura sat in the pavilion and took a long sniff of the savory smell drifting in from the kitchen in the adjacent longhouse. Seated between a student half his size and another who was one fourth his size, he anxiously waited for his food to be served. They all sat on the ground in rows. In front of them were freshly plucked and washed banana leaves on which the food would be served. The rows had enough space between them for the servers to walk down with vessels of food and a ladle.

Shura's eyes searched for the only boy he had befriended, but Rama was seated on the other side of the pavillion. The luncheon began exactly at noon, five senior pupils serving the rest of the members of the gurukul and the guests from the central kingdom. Master Vashisth's pupils were too disciplined to make unnecessary talks while eating, keeping their mouths shut and only using them to chew their food.

The serving disciple came to Shura and served him rice, ONE ladle full, and moved on.

Shura, "…."

Next came the lentil soup, and the server poured it on the rice, ONE ladle full.

Shura, "…."

Close behind him were the servers carrying pumpkin curry and bamboo shoot curry, each served HALF a ladle.

Shura, "...….."

The last server came and plopped one TEASPOON of tomato chutney.

That was it. Shura sprang to his feet, making the floor quake under the force. He then inhaled, getting ready to unleash a string of curse words, when he looked up and found a pair of cold, sharp eyes, staring right into his soul. All the words that Shuru was about to say died in his throat, and he quietly sat back down.

"Chhh, chhh, Prince Shura, Prince Shura…" One of Shura's men whispered. Shura found him three heads down the row, reaching out with his full plate. "Have some of mine. It is a lot for me."

Shura started to take some of what was on his plate, but then he remembered the icy stare of his master, and he shook his head. Nothing was worse than having deliciously cooked food that sated only one fourth of the appetite.

Shura's men left later that evening, and he felt a curious sort of illness in his stomach. Maybe he should have demanded that they stay, but he remembered his master's icy stare and the bamboo cane and realized that would have been a stupid demand. That stubborn mule would never agree to that. Not twenty four hours had passed, and he was getting sick of this place. Where were all the warriors to combat with? Where were all the portly courtiers to make fun of? Where were all the pretty maidens to flirt with? Where were all the evil priests to beat the sh*t out of? All he did that day was read five pages of the Kshatriya book and then copy what was already written.

Even his master's straight long nose and shimmery lips was not exciting anymore, and not even twenty four hours had passed. The thought of Master Vashisth caused Shura to instinctually rub the cane mark that had begun to fade now. The emptiness in the pit of Shura's stomach was growing until he felt hunger pangs. He peeked through the half-open door and found few students in the courtyard lighting an oil lamp at the altar of holy basil.

Shura decided that the best way to escape from his room would be through the small window. And then he chuckled. He rarely used his shape-shifting abilities since he was always so proud of how handsome and formidable he looked, but this would be the perfect opportunity for him to dust up on his Yantra techniques. Shura bent the middle finger of his right hand and drew a spiral symbol on his chest. Not a second later, there was a white tiger with faint black stripes, standing in his place. The tiger moved nimbly, feet light as a feather and jumped up and out of the window to land silently on the ground outside. The longhouse that Shura was lodging in faced a rose garden. He walked through the garden, soundlessly, remaining in the shadows, the alluring smell of the roses floating in the air.

On the other side of the garden was a narrow dirt path, beyond which was a thick bamboo forest. Even from afar, Shura's tiger form could smell all the bunnies and the one doe that was prancing around somewhere in the forest. So, he swiftly crossed the dirt path, quick as air and light as a leaf, and entered the forest. The tall bamboo trees made it hard for the faint moonlight to penetrate deep into the forest making it even darker. But it was not a challenge for Shura as his tiger form allowed him a special night vision. The darker an object was, the brighter he saw through his night vision tiger eyes.

Sura's padded tiger paws moved lithely through the forest ground, snaking and winding around the tall bamboo trees. The air was still, and the night was silent, with the occasional buzzing of mosquitoes here and there and rare crackling of dried leaves on the ground. Shura's nose picked up the trail of the doe's scent again, and it only got stronger the further he walked. At last, he saw the doe, standing carelessly by a tree, sniffing the dry soil for who knows what. It was looking away from Shura, the tiger. So, Shura did what Shura does best. He pounced hard and quick and bit the doe's ass.

Umm, yummy, yummy.

The doe bleated in pain but not for long. Shura leapt again, and this time, his sharp tiger canines were sunk deep into the doe's neck, spraying warm blood all over the place, and the next moment, the doe was dead as a doornail.

Shura then tore a long, stringy piece of flesh, still warm and soft, and began to chew, savoring every moment of it. The thick, fresh doe blood mixed in with the mouthful of meat made it even more delicious.

Umm, yummy, chew, chew, chew, and gulp.

Shura next bit and wrenched out a large piece of meat from the doe's back and tore that piece again into two.

"Don't eat raw meat like a filthy wild animal." A rich voice said in a commanding tone.

Shura, the tiger, raised his head in alarm and spun around. Sure enough, the owner of the voice was none other than his teacher. The flight or fight response kicked in. Shura could either change back to his human form and admit his fault and kowtow to the master or turn around and dash to never return again. He was contemplating his next step so deeply that he did not see the Yantra spell that Master Vashisth hurled towards Shura.

Wham! Shura, the tiger, fell backwards, hitting the dust. By the time he gathered his wits and sat up, he had already transformed into his human form. He looked up and found Master Vashisth standing over him, glowering at the raw piece of meat, still hanging from his mouth.