elephant song

I was in a hurry. The Rajdhani Express was leaving Trivandrum in a few minutes and I wanted to buy a book to survive the nearly 48 hours long journey to New Delhi. Could not locate the Higginbothams on the platform and asked someone. He said it is located outside, on one of the exits. Managed to find it and the first book I saw was 'Elephant Song' by Wilbur Smith. Bought it in double quick time and boarded the train.

Till then, had no clue to who the author was or what the book was all about. Somewhat like a blind date. The train started rolling and I started reading.

Actually, Elephant Song is a misnomer for this thriller set in the wilds of Africa. The elephants figure only in the opening chapters. Then suddenly it changes track and picks up pace as the main protagonist, Dr Daniel Armstrong, a naturalist famous for his TV shows (shades of Dr David Attenborough, perhaps) finds his friend Johnny Nzou, chief warden of Chiwewe national park in Zimbabwe murdered along with his entire family and the entire stock of recently culled ivory missing.

Then starts the chase to find the murderers. It leads him to a shady Taiwanese Ambassador Ning Chong Gong, who in league with an Indian smuggler Chetti Singh, had managed the operation for procuring legal stamped ivory from the park and making it look as if the ivory was burnt down in a fire (engineered by them) in the park.

The novel somehow conveys the impression that the white man is the hero trying to save the world. The rest of the characters are all either villains or people in need of his help. But at the same time, the author, brought up in African outbacks and familiar with the ways of the jungle, is sympathetic to the cause of preventing the exploitation of the continent by greedy outsiders.

Towards the second half, the novel takes up this cause and shows in stark detail the terrible damage open cast mining and use of chemicals to extract minerals does to the rain forests. Similar situations are being played out in the Karnataka-Andhra border districts with the government seeming to turn a blind eye.

About the characters, Chetti Singh strikes a false note with his name itself. It is a rather unhappy marriage of the Tamil caste name Chetti with the Punjabi Singh. But of course, the guy is bad news. Failing to kill our hero with a leopard in his warehouse that he tortures to make it more ferocious, he makes his minion take Armstrong at gun point and try to rid of him in a mountain road and make it look like an accident.

Hereabouts, the author also gives some tips on surviving a leopard attack. These cats, it seems, can kill humans in a much better fashion than, say, a lion that simply charges in. Used to killing monkeys, the leopard aims for the head with its paws while trying to cut open the belly with its hind legs. Armstrong managed to stave of the attack by padding up his belly with a bag and a bit of luck.

The other villain, Chong, is a different kettle of fish. He has got strange and violent sexual perversions with the victims ending up horribly mutilated. So much so that the author does not dare to describe them. Smith takes the safe route by giving only rudimentary description of sex acts. Not for him the steamy, sweaty, panting scenes. So do not expect his name to figure in the awards for the worst sex scene writings.

All said and done, an entertaining novel in the old fashioned way.