I sometimes wonder if history can repeat itself. But I realise it doesn’t have to, when it lingers forever.

19 May was the fourth death anniversary of the Jhurjhura tigress (left) I fondly called ‘Auntie’. She wasn’t the prettiest tigress I’ve known; that is clearly a position concretely held by her smashing sister, the Chorbehra female. But she was the greatest tigress I’ve ever known.

She would have been thirteen now if her life hadn’t been snuffed out by the vicious hand of callousness. The future seemed long and bright filled with glory and joy, but the weight of the present came down too heavily. The dark night never dawned but the moonlight shines on.

A blooming flower was crushed wantonly, but even in its destruction it exuded a fragrance. And it endures.

Much was possible, but it still is, through the legacy she left behind in the way of two amazing daughters – Dhiti, the Rajbehra female (centre), and Kankati (right). They carry her brilliant beacon that cuts through the stygian vice, and are building the bridge between a glorious history and a splendid future.

Indeed history is too short when eternity is at hand.

From history to eternity: the great aunt with her two beacons