Sandhya, The Mumbai Man-eater

A Story by Thomas Rezy

A mysterious entity lerks in the wooded hilltops of Mumbai, and she is out looking for blood.

Midnight in Mumbai. The night sky hangs heavily above the sleepless city. On the hilltop, an island of wilderness in a sea of urbanisation, the crickets nocturnal choir fills the air. The moon shines alone in the sky above, the haze of light pollution conceals the stars, even on a clear day. A spirit like being named Sandhya resides here. The night is Sandhya's favorite time, when she feels serene. The calm of the night hides many secrets. It is the optimal time for hunting.

Under the blanket of darkness, she emerges from the wilderness of the boreal hilltops. She sets off with intent, as she strides fearlessly and purposefully on her silent pilgrimage. She possesses a regal air about her, an upright stance, a natural beauty. The sylph like creature walks along a foot path that leads through the long grass down towards the goliath city, where she is heading to make a kill. She licks her lips with a bloodthirsty look in her eye. It has been a while since she last made a kill, something she was looking to remedy.

She descends the hillside effortlessly, over rocks, down cliff sides, along the trunks of fallen ashoka trees, while overlooking a sea of nocturnal luminosity in front of her. The city buildings contrast in height like the stalagmites of an ancient subterranean cavern, crawling with glow worms. They rise out above from the endless slums and suburbs surrounding. It is as if the stars had fallen from the night sky onto the Earth below.

Mumbai is one of the most densely inhabited areas on the planet, where over twenty million call their home. A place of extremes, the city is host to more billionaires than anywhere else in India. It's also where you can find the largest slums in all of the sub-continent. To a killer as deadly as Sandhya, anyone is a potential victim.

Even in the dead of night, the buzz of city life is constant. The sleepless giant. The City of dreams. People are everywhere, out on the streets, all hours of the day, going about their lives. But this doesn't stop her from killing.

With the stealth of a low flying fighter jet, undetected by the radar, she marches on towards the Megalopolis, in the search for the night's victim. The lone wolf on the prowl. Sandhya leads a solitary life, an anti-social existence. This is how she likes to remain.

She cascades down the wall on her -silent feet, and springs with a coiled energy, leaping from wall to rock, along abandoned rooftops, along pathways. On her descent into civilization from her daytime sanctuary, she hides in a cloak of darkness, gliding effortlessly over the hazardous downward climb like the skilled assassin that she is.

She approaches a farmstead on the outskirts. She knows this place well, she has been here before. She has killed here before. Piglets when she was younger, made for a convenient meal, even stray dogs from the area, but they are not what she is interested in today. She seeks a larger, more abundant prey. Humans. Traversing the yard along the cover of shrubs and woven stick fences, she approaches the settlement on the look out for a potential victim. She can hear children playing in the near distance, on the streets. Her ears prick up. She moves in closer. Then the dogs start to bark wildly, blowing her cover. Her ears purse back, pausing briefly, she retreats and seeks the cover of a peepal tree, in the safety of the wilderness.

The people here are all too aware of her morbid practices, despite how allusive she remains. They would kill her on sight without a moment's hesitation, like they have killed others of her kind before. In fact they had even sent hunting parties out looking for her kind. At the slightest incline of her presence, the villagers would set the hunting dogs on her. This place is too risky for her. She has to delve deeper into the city.

She nativagates back through the bush, leading into an area of long grass, where she is undetectable. Her camouflaged garments hide her like a single piece of barley in a bail of hay. If the dogs were on her scent, they had certainly lost her now. She ressurfaces a kilometer or so to the South. She contours around the fence of a large scrap yard, where mango trees used to grow when she was young. Disused cars rusting away are cluttered neatly in lots, like an automobile cemetery. She scales the fence effortlessly, at her usual point of entry and strides through. The smell of petroleum pollutes the air. Rats, stray dogs but no humans in sight today.

She exits the perimeter on the other side of the yard, mounting a stack of rust bucket cars then leaping over the fence to a nearby tree. Up until the present, she had the complete darkness concealing her. She is now entered into civilization. Street lights, mopeds, cars, people, houses with electricity, cats, dogs, and pigeons. It is a poor area, many people struggle to get by, stacked on top of one and other. This would make hunting difficult for Sandhya. She chooses her victim studiously, cold bloodedly, waiting patiently for the right window to strike.

She crosses the road at a clear interval, seeking cover behind a trash can in a quiet alleyway. Men and women pass by, oblivious of the danger present in the shadows, watching them. She climbs her way up onto a roof, then leaps to another, and another before jumping down on to an ill lit footpath.

She melts in and out of the shadows cast by the various structures on the outskirts of the neighborhood as she makes her way through, eagle eyed, ready to seize the opportunity when it presents itself. She wanders on. There is a nocturnal market on, packed full to the brim, crowds of people buying and selling, haggling and striking deals, chittering amongst themselves. It was very noisy. The overwhelming smell in the air is crowded, like the market itself, with scents battling for dominance. As she looked on down from behind the welded wire fence that runs along the far wall of the terraced market area, she was only a stone's throw away from them. They were very different from her.

She dislikes being around so many people, susceptible to being seen. But she doesn't have a choice if she wants to fulfill her desires. The bloodthirsty look in her jade green eyes, which from a far, glisten in the darkness of the night. She was panting as the adrenaline coursed through her veins. They go on about their business oblivious to her presence, only a matter of meters away. But she knows exactly where they are, her hearing is devastatingly acute. And their smell, irresistible to her.

She continued on past the market, stalking the occasional homeless person, or surveying an elderly woman, but they never aligned in her crosshairs, never stepping out into the shadows alone. She would have to go on further to find what she desired, somewhere quieter. She had numerous chances to kill one of the many stray dogs that called Mumbai their home. But she had developed a taste for human flesh now. Humans, who had shot her mother. Humans who had destroyed her home. Humans who had confined her existence to a small patch of wilderness on the hilltops. Humans who had depleted her food stock. It was not through revenge nor spite, but through the forced hand of circumstance, survival of the fittest.

She passed over a small hill which gave on to a gated community. This is where she will find tonight's meal. There are apartment blocks, green spaces, parked cars, quiet yet well maintained roads and walkways, plenty of cover and consequently safety; it's a relatively wealthy quarter. She trotts along the top of a wide, dimly lit stonewall, obscured by tamarind trees on one side, between apartment blocks. Every step taken is with purpose and precision, her tail steady and muscular, assuring her balance, on the lookout for her prey, attentive as ever to her surroundings.

Then, she locks on to her target. A man, by himself, walking in her direction on the pavement below; using his cell phone. It is late in the night. She watches him go by from her perch, eyes fixated on her supper. Then, descends from the stone wall, landing on her wraith-silent paws in the cover of greenery in a cul de sac of small apartment buildings. He continues on, nearring his home, oblivious to the danger in the shadows; the coast is clear. He arrives at the door to his building, pausing to retrieve his keys. She sneaks closer, honing in on him like a missile.

She remains silent, accelerating, springing on her strides. In flashes, she passes through the light cast by the occasional luminated window as she stalks her victim, revealing her ochraceous satin fur peppered with black rosettes, and cream underbelly, her muscular skull, long striped tail, arrow tipped-teeth and canine fangs, moist pink nose and rounded ears. A truly formidable feline. A formidable predator.

She closes in on him with cunning poise. She lets out a bestial grunt, then pounces in an instant, striking from behind, knocking him off his feet. She clenches her muscular jaw as her teeth pierce the neck of her victim. Her retractable claws shoot into his body as she holds him down with her powerful grip. He lets off a raspy gasp as he bled. He tries to fight her off briefly, while he still can, flailing his arms; but he doesn't stand a chance. His vocal cords restricted, his airways punctured, he gradually drifts out of consciousness as she drags him backwards into the shadows, where she will feast upon his corpse. It was over in a matter of seconds

The leopard known as Sandhya, The Mumbai Man-eater, had claimed another victim.

Due to loss of habitat and poaching, Leopards are believed to have disappeared from approximately 70 percent of their global range. With the unstoppable urban expansion, leopards, like other ecologically opportunistic species, are moving into our cities. In Mumbai, the leopard population density of the Sanjay Gandhi National Park is three times greater than in other habitats such as the Savanna. The leopards have adapted to hunting stray dogs. Wild large predators cohabiting with people in cities can only end badly. I wrote this story after being inspired to shed light on the issue of climate change. Habitat destruction means loss of life.

© 2020 Thomas Rezy

Author's Note

The prompt was to write a short story set in a bustling city that feels lonely. English is my native language, although I was mainly educated in France, so excuse any grammatical mistakes. I am new to writing and this is one of my favorites so far, they will get even better over time.