Toby Tiger, Outlaw of the Jungle.

 

Listen up my good friends, I have a strange story to tell. Get close to my camp fire and warm your limbs with my tale of life as a Magical Mystery Tour, (if you can GO FOR IT.) My protagonist's infancy was painful, scarred with violence, blood and loss. Perhaps he simply needed to escape from his domestic reality by dreaming of fabulous, imaginary places. 

In later years he found it difficult to believe in "reincarnation" but how to explain this boy's fascination with India from early childhood on? It seems he recognised Indianess in many things presented to him, as if he remembered it, felt connected to it, his soul yearning for a land of jungles, tigers, high snowcapped mountains, maharajas, elephants and palaces with minarets, all phantasmal in the mists of  his mind.

When he was 2 he was presented with a variety of dolls; he ignored the white ones, only seeing the black doll. He dragged it along with him everywhere and cried if seperated from it. At 4 years old he was given his first book, "Little Black Sambo" which he devoured, the cheeky black boy, his new clothes so cute and the tiger turned into butter, with the pancakes he was mightily amused. The illustrations were all done in primary colours with heavy black outlines, a style that stayed with him throughout his artist's non-career.

From aged 7 to 14 he read comics, hundreds of them, Donald Duck, Lil Lotta, Archie, everything. He was particularly enamoured of the super heros, Batman, Superman, Dr. Strange, Doc Savage Man of Bronze, he found their antecedents mystical, they were members of Secret Societies, some of them achieved their super-powers studying with enlightened Masters in deep Tibet. He dreamed of also earning those powers in many adventures of exploration.

From aged 8 he saw on the newly introduced television all the movies starring Sabu, the irreverant, young Indian actor: The Jungle Book, Elephant Boy, Black Narcissist but best of all The Thief of Baghdad, where he flew on a genie's back to the top of the Himalayas. He stole the omnicient jewelled third eye from the forhead of an arcane god with which he had visions of where he should go to follow his heart's desire. This inspired Toby mightily, he crossed his heart and swore that when he got older he would follow in Sabu's wake.

Also on '50s television was a half-hour show, every weekìday at 4.30pm, called "Jungle Jim" starring Jihnny Weismuller. It was based on Jin Corbett's books, set in a mixed-up land involving both India and Africa, with tigers, lions, elephants, evil thieves and aggressive natives. Toby rushed home from school on many afternoons to get absorbed in the jungle derring-do of his new hero. Corbett was an Anglo-Indian who made a living from hunting animals with rich tourists, mostly killing tigers and leopards.

At some point in middle age he saw the result of his hunting, tigers going extinct, so he had a change of heart and initiated a conservation park to protect and save the big cats. Toby took Jungle Jim to his heart, seeing in him a strong, brave father figure who he'd follow through rivers of crocodiles and villages of cannibals.

Baden Powell started his Scout movement in London about 1907 influenced by indigenous people's bushcraft and battle tactics he learned as a soldier in the Boer War. At aged 9 Toby joined his club for very young boys, the Cubs, and was inculcated into pagan practices such as imitating wild animals and adoration of a Nature Spirit. Based on Kipling's 'Jungle Book'  the Cubs would squat in a  circle like young wolves around the club's Master and in unison intone, "Ekala, we love you!"

Aged 12 he graduated  to the Boy Scouts, learnt how to tie knots, start a fire, create makeshift kitchen utensils and imitate warrior practices in mock battles. He assiduously collected the badges that dealt with each of these disciplines until finally achieving the ultimate badge, 'The Leaping Wolf.' He was fortunate to have as a Scout Master a very upright man, stern but kind, fatherly but principled. There was no hanky panky from him or allowed among the boys. At 15 Toby dropped out, more interested in pop music, rock clubs and sex.

As a movie maniac he was especially attracted to Arabian Nights type movies, Ali Baba, Alladin, Haji Baba, he got a weird visceral thrill from them. Handsome heros, wicked magicians, flying carpets, magic lamps, horses with wings that took him to fantastic realms. He felt a strange sense of belonging in those realms, he knew them intimately, as if he truly had lived there sometime.

Then he saw 'The Lost Horizon' and was blown away, his destiny was sealed, he'd spend his life exploring the Himalayas, searching, searching, perhaps to find "The Secret Community", allowed ingress and recieve enlightenment. Or he'd find it in his very heart which was more likely.

18 in 1968, he was roaming down a backlane of Melbourne and saw a sign above a doorway, "YOGA", he recognised it, went up stairs and signed on, taking 2 classes a week. Then when he was 19, strolling past the Theosophical Society, he saw a notice promoting a yoga demonstration inside, went in and was smitten by the old yogi standing on his head upon a stage.  His name was Compassion and on spotting Toby took an instant liking to him and ignored all others in the room. He invited the boy back to his residence, Toby visiting him for the next 2 years where he was regaled with wondrous tales of India, its realities and mysteries. This confirmed his deepest wish, to somehow make it to that much sung about subcontinent.

He slaved as a palliative care nurse to save money and in 1971 hitched out of Melbourne all the way to Darwin, flying to Singapore, train to Kuala Lumpur and Bangkok, hitching to Chang Mai and back, all the way to Penang where he caught a steamship to Madras. He made a beeline for Rishikesh and after a few terrifying imbroglios made it to that Shangri-la of his dreams.

He lived in India for 4 straight years, travelling all over, surviving hurricanes, bus crashes, serial killers, LSD orgies and Satanist sacrificial cults. (Read the full story in the 1st book of the "Toby the Punk Poofy Cat" trilogy = Vagabond Freak, available on Amazon/Kindle.)

Compassion showed up in 1974 and Toby nursed him till his death from cancer and, with Sivananda Ashram's assistance, threw the old yogi's body in the Ganges River. His father sent him money, he sold paintings to tourists and he volunteered nursing at a charity haspital and thus he stayed alive. His experiences were like a jungle university course in survival, he rerurned to Auz in 1976 tough, bright, courageous, in time for the Punk subcult revolution, which he wouldn't have missed out on for anything.

For 21 years he both nursed in hospitals, clinics and geriatric homes all over Sydney as well attempting a non-career as an artist, handmaking posters, paintings, murals, comix and animated films. By 1997 he felt exhausted and over IT. A woman at the Piccolo Cafe informed him that India was still happening and he'd fit right in so he once again journeyed there, to get lost, on and off, for the next 27 years in that vast, wild subcontinent.

During those years he read of Jim Corbett's Tiger Park and his book "The Man-Eating Leopard of Rudra Prayag." The park was in the Kumaon Himilayas, one of the few places he'd not visited and, adoring tigers as one of his 7 animal spirit guides, was determined to go there. It was only in 2003 that a friend offered to take him there on the back of his motor bike, even assuring him he'd get to sleep on Jim Corbett's bed in his bungalow. Toby was jumping out of skin, at last, Jungle Jim's environment would be his.

Halfway there they had a motorcycle accident and Toby got his right leg broken horribly. They traveled for hours in a took-took looking for a hospital and when they found one the head surgeon threatened to chop his leg off. He escaped with both legs intact but never made it to Jim Corbett's Tiger Park.

Finally, in 2023, again Toby had the chance to visit the park, this time safely in a car with a driver who was also his best friend and gofor, uncannily resembling Corbett's Indian sidekick Sahib. After a full day's journey they finally reached the front gates and they were locked. They discovered they had to book online many weeks previously as the park was a very popular tourist destination.

Toby was ropeable and roared like a tiger, "This is fucked! My lifelong dream shattered by the usual 21st century buffoon bureacracy." Jungle rangers rushed over to try to placate him but he was spitting curses. He decided to play an old trick of his, Indians being quite superstitious they had an inordinate fear of ghosts and he resorted to pretending possession by the ghost of Jim Corbett.

He rolled his eyes, shook his limbs, frothed at the mouth, then in a raspy voice croaked, "Aaagghhhyeowww!!! This is Jim Corbett speaking. I am horrified at what you've turned my beautiful park into, a playground for robot tourists. It's shocking! I will chase all the tigers away!"

The Indian crowd gathered  around him stiffened, their eyes went bugaboo, their mouths gaped in shock. Toby saw he had them hooked and gave a tiger roar that made their hair stand on end. "This man is my grand nephew, how dare you treat him like a street beggar. I demand you let him in the park immediately or I'll blow the gates open!"

The park manager rushed over to catch the last part of the act and namasteying obsequiously blabbed, "There's a share-jeep leaving at midday, for 5000 rupees you will be taken around the park for 5 hours but I can't promise you will see anything."

Toby came out of his mock trance and growled, "Five fucking hours getting my arsed dragged around the jungle and not even seeing two tigers fight to the death! Are you fucking kidding me?"

The manager wiped his sweating brow and pleaded, "If you book ahead online you can stay the night in your uncle Jim's cabin, only 12000 rupees, dinner included."

"Hmmmm... that sounds like the better option." He turned to Pankaj and muttered, " We'll plan this for next year, now we know the details, stay the night even." He turned to the manager, "My uncle thanks you, he won't bother you any more." All the crowd nodded and smiled, the foreign tiger had been tamed. He then shouted to Pankaj, "Let's get the fuck outta here. The law of the jungle sure is hard to deal with. Thank no god I'm an outlaw!"