Blood was splattered everywhere. The bleak grey of the rocks looked stale and washed out, completely in contrast to the fresh, shining fluid that was baking in the sun. If I lay spread-eagled on the ground and waved my hands and feet to make a blood-angel, it still wouldn’t have made a puddle as big and as deep as the bloody one I was standing in. All the contents of my stomach churned and rose up rapidly in retaliation to this annihilation of life. I waded through the blood and stepped out of the pool only to see that someone had already made such a path before. Bloody footsteps marked the path that the monster had taken. My knees almost gave away under me and my spine shuddered in apprehension. I steeled myself and forged ahead, following the monster’s path. The few metres seemed like a lifetime of walking as I silently nursed my darkening dread. My knees truly gave away when my eyes beheld the horror in front of me. The joints of my knees cracked loudly against the rocks just like the victims skull would’ve cracked on the blood-drenched log of wood before me. My teeth jittered when I saw an entire set of jaws empty and bodiless in front of me. More blood. Much more blood. It seeped into the water body nearby, tainting it with the red horrors it had seen. More footsteps, fading into the distance leaving behind the legacy of the horror it has unleashed. Fading away, just like the memory of this kill was already fading away from their memory as they looked ahead to their next kill. Water pooled in my eyes and sobs heaved my churning body. I looked down upon the slaughter that surrounded me and the haunting cries of the victim surrounded me. I felt for the wild boar who had been sacrificed here to assuage human hunger. And I swore that I would never touch meat again.
This vow almost broke the next day itself. This horrifying incident happened at Panch taki on our way to Dhak Bhairi and before I came to promise this, we had already asked a person at Dhak Gaon to make us chicken at lunch when we returned on the 1st. But when we did return, and the chicken was served, I couldn’t bear to put a morsel in my mouth. The blood and pain of the wild boar kept haunting me as I stared at the plate. I gave up. I took only the gravy of the chicken with my rice. And I know that that scene will haunt me for a long time before I will be able to touch any animal meat ever again.