A Hunter with a Broken Bow and Three Crouching Tigers

1

The solitary hunter had broken his aged bow and the worn out string is hanging in the air like a moulted skin of a serpent.
Thirsty and sagged , he is dragging his feet in the wild , looking for a water-hole.
The hunter is lonely , sad and resigned.

2

The hunter suddenly smells a familiar scent,  very strong , very repulsive and hears mild  rhythms of gasping.
Seeing the man in a distance  the three squatting  tigers raise the tails slightly and half  open the eyes.
None of them is curious nor shows the  natural instinct to pounce. The beasts , instead , go into crouching positions.
The seasoned , lonely , sad , resigned , defence- less hunter knows that he is at the mercy of the tigers.
But then why are the ferocious animals hesitating to strike ? Do they fear the image of the hunter’s lifeless weapon ; the broken bow ?

3

The solitary , sad ,  wearied , resigned hunter stands stranded in his path. And the tigers keep gazing into his dimmed eyes like a philosopher  does with an insisting answer seeker.
The humble hunter goes down on his knees and whispers ;
“Ò yes ;  the crouching tigers are the shadows of my own hunters – my loneliness, my sorrow and my impeding end.”

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