It was a ritual. I used to hide behind the rocks to watch the gold and black velvety striped animal amidst the tall grasses and the sun-bathing rocks, as she drank water from the nearby stream. She was a Royal Bengal tigress born to roam freely and live like a queen in the forest with an occasional stare from her shining golden-brown eyes which used to send tremors down my spine.

I named her Raani.

She was undoubtedly beautiful, though a seriousness in her gaze and her confident, unhurried grace was quite intimidating. In the noon she used to stretch and take a nap while her cubs went hunting for fish in the stream.

And then one day, I heard her painful roar and saw her lifeless body being carried away by a group of hunters, dancing and rejoicing at their victory!