I grew up with him and I never forgot how much he meant to me. In fact, I still turn to him. There’s always something that he has said or done that helps, especially in times of trouble.
This is how I first met him:
A black shadow dropped down into the circle. It was Bagheera the Black Panther, inky black all over, but with the panther markings showing up in certain lights like the pattern of watered silk. Everybody knew Bagheera, and nobody cared to cross his path; for he was as cunning as Tabaqui, as bold as the wild buffalo, and as reckless as the wounded elephant. But he had a voice as soft as wild honey dripping from a tree, and a skin softer than down.
The reason why he stepped into the circle was to help. To stand up for a helpless human cub, the fate of whom was about to be decided. “To kill a naked cub is shame,” he argued, and then he paid the price and saved the cub’s life. This is so typical of him. Making a stand, taking the responsibility, speaking out. Standing up to the group dynamic, alone if necessary. Following his path has of course led me into a lot of trouble ever since. The kind of trouble worth getting into, at all times.
And of course he never ceased to surprise and amaze me:
Bagheera stretched himself at full length and half shut his eyes. "Little Brother," said he, "feel under my jaw."
Mowgli put up his strong brown hand, and just under Bagheera's silky chin, where the giant rolling muscles were all hid by the glossy hair, he came upon a little bald spot.
"There is no one in the jungle that knows that I, Bagheera, carry that mark—the mark of the collar; and yet, Little Brother, I was born among men, and it was among men that my mother died—in the cages of the king's palace at Oodeypore. It was because of this that I paid the price for thee at the Council when thou wast a little naked cub. Yes, I too was born among men. I had never seen the jungle. They fed me behind bars from an iron pan till one night I felt that I was Bagheera—the Panther—and no man's plaything, and I broke the silly lock with one blow of my paw and came away.
Because of him, whenever I feel myself trapped in a cage this is exactly what I do, I break the silly lock with my paw and come away. I mean, what else is there to do? Resign, submit, and comply? Or maybe even convince myself that there is no jungle, pretend that I love my cage, and remain in there, docile and fed?
I don’t think so. He would never do that. And this is also how he got me into trouble ever since. The same kind of trouble, the one worth getting into, at all times.
P.S.
This is about his dad. And this is where the quotes are from.
