Our Indian driver and guide parked us a few strides from a pink-and-black-nosed young tiger with blond teddy-bear ears and stark whiskers. We watched long moments as he reclined, our view unobstructed but for flimsy weeds. I’d been warned not to stare but was lost in reverence, enchanted by our taut intimacy. He stood to confront me. His roar reverberated in my bones. Like a tabby cat mesmerized by laser dots, he shifted his hindquarters side to side. He leaped effortlessly. It was mystical enlightenment to know that I was to die from wounds inflicted by this breathtaking beast.
Cecily Winter is a former college teacher and wildlife enthusiast. Her published writings include academic work as Susan B. Iwanisziw and short pieces as Cecily Winter. Find Cecily at cecilywinter.com and on Twitter @winter_cecily.