A tiger pacing back and forth behind the bars of a cage at a zoo is scary enough. Meeting a tiger in its natural habitat, uncaged, is far more frightening. But this kind of encounter is very unlikely to happen. Most tigers steer clear of human beings. In fact, tigers have more to fear from human beings who often hunt and kill them than humans have to fear from tigers. To the natives of India, though, tigers are far more than just ferocious cats. Indians believe that tigers have special supernatural power. And they often perceive the tiger's power to be an evil force that is turned against human beings. In the early 1900s one British officer learned just how powerful this evil was It was a bloody and tragic lesson.

When Colonel DeSilva heard the story of a man-eating tiger threatening the Indian village where he lived, he said one word-"Hogwash!" DeSilva had been hearing rumors of these giant, blood-thirsty beasts for as long as he had been in India, but he had never really heard of anyone actually being attacked. He knew enough about the wild to know that tigers avoided human beings altogether. Oh, occasionally a sick or old tiger, too old to catch its prey, would wander into a village and attack a dog, but DeSilva had never read a reputable account of a tiger attacking people. This new rumor was the weirdest and most improbable one he had ever heard. Natives said that a huge, white tiger with icy blue eyes was threatening the people of India and that this ferocious man-eater was a killing machine whose hunger could not be satisfied. According to one story, the creature had wiped out an entire village, eating its inhabitants one by one. Another story claimed that the tiger was particularly fond of eating children and that it had robbed one town of all of its youngsters. But the attacks were never proven. And no attacks had ever occurred in DeSilva's village. DeSilva believed that the entire tale was nothing but supernatural nonsense. He knew that the Indians had a strong belief about tigers-that the tigers had some supernatural power and that they were motivated by some evil force. They claimed that when a tiger attacked a village, it was punishing the village people for some horrible wrongdoing. Besides a worse enemy than a pale, white tiger was lurking among the Indians. It was a disease called leprosy and it ended in a horrible, shameful death. The disease actually ate away at human skin until nothing was left. As it devoured the body, the disease caused horrifying disfigurement. At times, actual body parts seemed to fall off completely. Because leprosy was considered to be extremely contagious and because of the gruesome way it made people look, people with leprosy-lepers-were often shunned by their family and their communities. One day DeSilva discovered that leprosy had struck the small village where he lived. One of the elders of the village was dying-in the last stages of the disease. Although he knew he was about to see a horrible sight, DeSilva decided to visit the man in order to pay his last respects. That was the proper thing to do, and DeSilva was always proper. Colonel DeSilva swallowed hard as he entered the small hut where the man lay dying. He had seen the hideous effects of leprosy before, but he still wasn't prepared for what he saw in front of him. The man's face was almost raw. Pieces of dead skin hung from his ears and nose. The man moaned when he saw DeSilva. Then he tried to speak. The words came out in a sort of half croak. "Tiger-r-r. . ., " the man said. "White tiger." DeSilva shook his head. "There's no tiger here, old chap. Come now, you mustn't worry about it. The whole thing is just a lot of crazy nonsense." The man shook his head back and forth. "No!" he insisted, as loudly as he could manage. "You must save me from it." "There's no tiger," DeSilva replied. "You must be delirious." "It will come," the man insisted. "You must save me." DeSilva had enough of this nonsense. He had come to pay his respects, not to discuss some fictional beast. He turned to leave. But DeSilva suddenly stopped when he saw what was in front of him. His blood seemed to freeze in terror. Blocking the doorway to the outside was a huge, pale tiger. Its ice-blue eyes glowed fiercely. Its lips were pulled back and its huge, sharp teeth shone brightly. It growled a low and threatening growl. "You must save me!" the old man shouted from his bed. The tiger sniffed the air as if deciding which to eat first. DeSilva stood frozen to the spot. Although many others had taken to carrying a gun with them at all times to fight off attacks, DeSilva hadn't brought one. After all, he didn't believe in the phantom tiger in the first place. The tiger crouched low, preparing to pounce. DeSilva's breath came in fast gasps. The sound of blood rushed to his ears. From his makeshift bed on the floor, the old man moaned. Then he cried, "Save me or be forever cursed." The tiger growled again. DeSilva looked from the old man to the tiger and back again. Then he watched in horror as the tiger sprung into the air. The tiger went directly for the old leper. The old man let out a horrible, piercing scream. DeSilva saw his chance and headed out the door of the hut, determined to get help. As he ran away, he heard the man scream one more time and then yell, "A curse on you!" Then he heard nothing more. DeSilva summoned his fellow soldiers, but he knew it would be too late. By the time they got to the hut, the old man was gone. The tiger had attacked its prey and then had taken it into the jungle to eat it more slowly. The episode haunted DeSilva. If only he had believed the rumors, he would have brought a gun with him. He could have saved the old man. His wife tried to comfort him, but it didn't really help. He felt completely responsible for the entire bloody incident. A year passed and DeSilva somehow managed to live with the memory, allowing it to slip to the back of his mind most of the time. But the rumors started again. The ghostly white tiger had come back, the Indians reported, and once again it was going about its bloody business. This time, DeSilva took the rumors seriously and kept a gun with him at all times. If the tiger appeared, he would kill it once and for all. Its reign of terror would finally be over. One evening, just as the sun was setting DeSilva had his chance. He, his wife, and their two-year-old son were sitting on the lawn of their large estate, enjoying the cool weather. DeSilva heard the low growl, first from the bushes beside the house. The scene from that fateful day in the leper's hut flashed in his mind. The terror he had felt then turned to rage. He wanted to shoot the beast and watch as it bled to death. The growl came again. DeSilva reached for his gun and whispered for his wife to take their son into the house. But the tiger was swift and clever. Before DeSilva could even cock his gun, it pounced. DeSilva's wife released a bloodcurdling scream. DeSilva gasped as he saw where the tiger lunged. It headed directly at his son. DeSilva shouldered his gun, aimed and fired. The white beast fell to the ground in a heap. DeSilva ran toward his son and his wife. When he saw their faces, still drawn in terror, he sighed deeply. They had survived. His son had a long scratch on his cheek where the tiger had clawed at him, but he was safe. DeSilva had killed the tiger once and for all. He looked in the direction of the beast. He wanted to take a hard look at this horrible creature before calling the authorities. But the tiger was gone-as if it had disappeared in mid-air. Neither DeSilva nor his wife had seen it get up and leave-which would have been unlikely at any rate, given the bullet that DeSilva was sure it had lodged in its head. But as weird as it seemed, it was gone, as if whisked away by some unseen force. DeSilva didn't wait around to investigate. He swept up his small son, put his arm around his wife's shoulders, and ushered them protectively into the house. The tiger was never seen again in India. The forces that spirited it away had done so far good. The Indian people were grateful to DeSilva and praised his skill and his luck. But DeSilva turned out to be not so lucky. The claw mark on his little son's face became infected. A short time after, the young boy developed a horrible case of leprosy and died a quick, but painful death. And, no matter how hard he tried to explain it away, DeSilva feared that the old man's curse had somehow come full-circle. For failing to save the old man from the dreaded white tiger, DeSilva lost his very own son.