Before You Read — The Tunnel

1It was nearly noon and the jungle was utterly still — not a leaf stirred, not a bird called. Imagery Heat waves shimmered^🔑 along the railway embankment^🔑 that cut a path through tall evergreen trees. The railway lines looked like two straight black serpents vanishing into the dark mouth of the tunnel in the hillside. Simile

2Suraj stood near the cutting^🔑, waiting — not to catch a train, but to watch the midday steam engine come roaring out of the tunnel. He had cycled out of town, left his bicycle in a nearby village, and walked over a scrub-covered hill to reach the tunnel exit. He was drawn here by pure curiosity and a love of the dramatic spectacle the train made.

3In the distance came the shrill whistle of the approaching engine. Then a sound like thunder rolled out of the tunnel. And then — the steam engine burst into view, snorting and puffing^🔑 like a great green, black, and gold dragon, showering sparks left and right, roaring a challenge to the jungle. Simile Imagery

4Instinctively^🔑, Suraj stepped back as waves of hot steam hit his face. Even the trees seemed to flinch^🔑 from the heat and noise. Personification Then the train was gone, leaving only a lazy plume of smoke^🔑 drifting over the tall shisham trees. The jungle fell silent again. Imagery

5Suraj turned from his contemplation^🔑 of the drifting smoke and walked into the tunnel. It grew darker with every step. After about twenty yards, darkness was total. He had to turn back and look at the bright circle of daylight at the entrance to reassure^🔑 himself that the world still existed outside. Ahead, the other end of the tunnel was just a small, distant circle of light. The walls were damp and sticky. A bat swooped past. A lizard scuttled^🔑 between the rails.

6Coming out into the blazing sunlight, Suraj was momentarily dazzled^🔑. Looking up at the tree-covered hillside, he thought he caught a flash of orange and gold — a long, swishing^🔑 tail between the trees. Then it was gone.

7Near the tunnel exit stood the watchman's hut, bordered by marigolds and a small vegetable patch. The watchman's duty was to walk the full length of the tunnel before each train, checking for obstacles^🔑. If all was clear, he would return and nap. If he found danger, he would walk back up the line and wave a red flag — or at night, a lamp — to warn the approaching engine driver.

8The watchman was just settling on his cot for an afternoon nap when he spotted Suraj emerging from the tunnel. He waited until the boy was close, then greeted him: "Welcome, welcome. I don't often have visitors. Sit down and tell me why you were inspecting my tunnel."

9"Is it your tunnel?" Suraj asked, surprised. The watchman explained that since no one else would have anything to do with it, he considered it his own — lent to the Government. When Suraj mentioned seeing a flash of orange and gold on the hillside, the watchman said simply: "It was a leopard you saw. My leopard." And yes — he owned the leopard too, in the same way he owned the tunnel. He had lent the tunnel to the Government. He had not lent the leopard to anyone.

10The watchman introduced himself as Sunder Singh^🔑. He invited Suraj to return that evening to watch the night mail train come through. He said the jungle was safer than the town — last month in town he had nearly been run over by a bus. Imagery Sunder Singh then placed a banana leaf over his face to keep away flies and fell asleep. Suraj walked back towards the village, already looking forward to returning.

11The following evening, Suraj returned to the watchman's hut at dusk. Flying foxes swooped silently out of the trees. A cool breeze carried the scent of mango blossoms and the distant promise of rain. Imagery Sunder Singh had watered his garden and made tea. They sat together, listening to the tailorbird and the chatter of the seven sisters as the brief twilight faded.

12Sunder Singh lit his lamp and went to inspect the tunnel. Suraj waited alone in the dark, the forest coming alive around him — creakings, whisperings, the bark of a deer, the cry of a fox, the strange quaint^🔑 call of a nightjar. Personification Sunder Singh returned, and as they sat together, a new sound reached them — a rhythmic sawing, as if someone were cutting through a branch. "It's the leopard," said Sunder Singh quietly. "I think it's in the tunnel."

13The night mail was only ten minutes away. If the leopard wasn't driven out, it would be killed by the train. Sunder Singh took his axe, reassured Suraj that this particular leopard knew him well and would not attack them, and moved into the tunnel — shouting at the top of his voice. Suraj followed close behind, his throat too dry to shout. Imagery

14Twenty paces in, the lamplight fell upon the leopard — crouching between the tracks, only five metres away. It was lithe^🔑 and sinewy^🔑, baring its teeth and snarling^🔑, tail twitching. When both Suraj and Sunder Singh shouted together, their voices rang through the tunnel. The leopard — uncertain how many humans were in the tunnel — turned swiftly and disappeared into the darkness.

15They walked the full length of the tunnel to be sure. As they emerged, the rails began to hum. Suraj touched a rail and felt its tremor — the night mail was coming. The engine rounded the bend, hissing and scattering sparks, defying the jungle as it thundered through the cutting and into the tunnel — "like the beautiful dragon of his dreams." Metaphor

16Almost a week later, Suraj and his father travelled on that very same night mail. Father was writing in his account book; Suraj sat at the open window, staring into the darkness. As they approached the tunnel, Suraj strained his eyes — and just as the engine gave a shrill whistle, he saw the lamp. He couldn't see Sunder Singh, but the lamp was there, steady and bright. His friend was out there. Symbolism

17The train plunged through the tunnel and out again, leaving the jungle behind and thundering across the endless plains. Suraj stared out into the darkness, thinking of the lonely cutting and the watchman who would forever be, for the thousands who travelled past, no more than a firefly^🔑 lighting up the darkness for steam engines and leopards.