After Neelan was certain that the mahout was dead, he made a loud trumpeting sound that woke up the senior mahout who was taking a nap on his veranda. The sound also alerted the assistant who was sitting idle in the village square chatting with his friends. Both men walked quickly to the place where they had left Neelan under the care of their colleague. Both carried with them the long sticks and the hooks which were their weapon. Both arrived at the place almost simultaneously. They saw the inert body of their colleague lying on the ground with the head turned into pulp.
By this time, several villagers had gathered there. They were all in shock. No one spoke. Several minutes passed. When they came out of their shock, they realized that Neelan was nowhere to be found.
After killing his mahout and trumpeting, Neelan took off in the direction of the village temple. A villager, who had just arrived at the scene of the killing, told others,
“I saw Neelan running towards the temple”.
The senior mahout told his colleague,
“Let us go after Neelan. With god’s blessings, we can catch him at the temple.”
He told the villagers, pointing to the inert body of the slain mahout,
“Take the body of our dear friend to his house. We will join you later.”
The two mahouts ran in the direction of the elephant.
Neelan stayed at the gate of the temple looking inside for a few moments. An elderly devotee, who was present in the precincts of the temple told the mahouts,
“I saw Neelan coming running towards the temple. He stopped at the arch gate and stayed still for a few seconds. He then disappeared.”
Neelan had evaded them.
The entire village was in turmoil. The news of Neelan on the run, spiced by popular imagination, spread like wildfire. No one knew the entire truth.
“Neelan killed his mahout”
“Neelan killed all three mahouts.”
“Neelan is hiding in the temple.”
“Neelan has run away from the village.”
Most people had heard only some parts of the incident, but that was sufficient to frighten them. Many of them, particularly those with children, locked themselves up in their homes while several others set out to find the facts.
Neelan, after leaving the temple, turned to the left and took the narrow road lined with houses. Some people saw him passing by. He was swaying from one side of the road to the other, stopping at places, moving forward, turning back, returning and again moving forward.
It was dusk and the light was fading. Darkness was descending on the village rapidly. The village had no streetlights. While the mahouts were still searching for their ward, the villagers were afraid to come out in the dark since they would not know where Neelan was. If they came out carrying their hurricane lamps, they were afraid that the elephant would spot them and kill them.
One of the villagers ran a cloth store in the town, some three kilometers away. Every day in the early morning, he would leave his home for the town and return after dusk. As was his custom, he entered the village at nightfall on that fateful day and made his way to his house. He lighted his path with a small battery-powered torch. He was not aware that Neelan was on the loose. He was close to his house when he sensed something strange in front of him. He stopped. He raised his torch and flashed the light, slightly upwards. He froze. Directly in front of him was a dark shape, as huge as a hill, with two powerful reddish glows on either side in the front.
Before the trader could comprehend what was in front of him, a powerful blow came across his body propelling him upwards. He hit a tree and fell lifeless to the ground. Even if the trader had not hit the tree, he would have still died from the force of the blow from Neelan’s trunk. His family and the neighbors found his body the next morning near the tree.
The mahouts could not make any progress in tracking Neelan. They knew that it was not wise to try to locate the elephant in the darkness. They were aware that the elephant had an uncanny ability to hide silently. Only when someone was very close and had no chance of running back or otherwise escaping, the elephant would show up in front of him. Even a trained mahout would not get a chance to defend himself.
The mahouts went to their employer, the elephant’s owner and made a report of the entire happenings of the day. The owner had heard about the unfortunate events, but he had refused to believe that Neelan killed one of his mahouts. He was waiting for the mahouts so that he could learn the details of the incidents of the day from them. On hearing the facts, he was crestfallen. The trader’s death was not known to anyone at that time.
“It will be impossible to track Neelan during the night,” The senior mahout said,
“We will resume our search early morning tomorrow.”
The owner agreed with him. His only prayer was that Neelan would cause no further harm to anyone and Neelan himself should be safe. He did not have the courage and confidence to spell out his wishes and therefore those wishes remained in his prayers.
The next day was a day of fear, excitement and curiosity for the villagers. At daybreak, many men started climbing tall trees and taking vantage points on the branches. They had carried food packets and water bags with them, hoping to see Neelan in action.
As the day progressed, stories of Neelan’s acts during the night began to trickle in. In one place, a banana crop was completely vandalized and destroyed by Neelan. Two small shops were pulled down. Part of a house with a thatched roof was damaged. Several small trees were uprooted. Many people heard Neelan moving around, running, striking at the fencing and even entering their courtyard, but no one had dared to come out.
At around seven in the morning, the mahouts spotted Neelan. They were scouting the streets, studying the telltale signs of their ward’s nocturnal activities. They were also careful to avoid being surprised by the elephant. Neelan was at the far side of the village, running through the narrow streets. The area was completely deserted as people locked themselves up inside their homes. Several men were on the top of the trees witnessing Neelan’s rampage – some enjoying the spectacle, some frightened and yet others depressed by the rampage.
The mahouts moved towards the elephant. They knew that it was not safe to go near Neelan in his condition of musth. Yet, their conscience would not allow them to not try to calm the elephant. It was their duty. It was not easy to approach Neelan since he was always on the move. At one time, he was in one part of the village, at some other time in another part and all of a sudden, he would turn around and run through the street in the opposite direction. The mahouts had a lasso made of thick rope with them apart from the sticks and hooks. Neelan knew that his keepers were pursuing him and played tricks to confuse them.
By noon, someone had informed the authorities about the grave situation in the village. The police were asked to investigate and take necessary action to prevent the elephant from further destruction of life and properties. A lone policeman riding a bicycle came over to obtain a brief on the state in which the village was. He met with a few individuals.
“You say that the elephant is mad?” He asked.
“Actually, he is not mad. He is in musth. In a few days, he will return to normal.” A community member informed the policeman.
“That means he is mad now,” said the policeman, as if he knew better.
“How many people the elephant has killed so far?” The policeman asked.
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