This is my daughter’s story. My oldest child. I’m going to tell it.

From my point of view

and hers. I want everyone to remember her. Remember her who she was.

As my daughter, as a Princess and as a sister.

As Sita.

The Beginning

“My tongue was rough against Sita’s fur. My second baby. My first daughter. I cleaned her happily, and
for the first time this year, being a good mother, to my newborn cub. She squeaked as I finished cleaning
her. She silenced though as I picked her up and put her inside the box. Sita seemed happy with the
rearrangements and so was I. I lay down in the back of the box, behind her but close to her. I fed her
happily, sleeping all the while, sleeping through the night.”

“I don’t remember my first days in the world but my Mother does. I

can speak from my first few months and I enjoy learning about my beginning
from the only person who would know. My Mother is a Mother with a happy
daughter.”

“That’s what she would always say to me; whenever she asked me to tell her the story of the
beginning of her life my Sita would always say that. It made me love her even more the more she said it. I
miss her so.

Sita’s markings were nothing like mine. They were wilder. More free. Her teeth were sharp little
things, and so were her claws. I had a beautiful daughter. She had individuality. For her markings were
nothing like her father’s either. But they were like her brother’s. My son. My oldest child. He died when
he was a week old; I rolled over in my sleep and suffocated him. I remember him. She reminds me of my
lost son. That’s why I wanted to be a better Mum to my baby girl. She was a stunner and I love her.

She couldn’t see at the time, but she could move. She walked around the pen without knowing. I
guided her and watched her in a motherly way. In a loving way.

I was very, very protective of her. Sita was my world. Whenever the owner of the park came to
see I would protect her in case she was taken away from me. Craig tried to lift her not long after she was
born, to find whether she was a she or if she was a he. But I wouldn’t let him. As soon as I saw her in his
arms I pulled her down and licked her, Craig backed off then.

In time, at the end of her first week on Earth Sita opened her eyes, her sparkling blue eyes. She
had grown and she recognised me. Soon we had a close, very, close bond.”

Learning
 “My Mother has told you the first week of my life. Wait until you hear
the rest!”

“I’ll tell her story to anyone who will listen. I won’t stop. That’s why I’m here putting our story,
her story in words, from the pads of our paws, hers and mine in the soil of the ground, so you can read it
and remember Sita how she was.

When Sita started to recognise me I could see what she could see. Happiness. We were happy.

But we didn’t know that Craig was considering taking her away from me, to hand raise my baby.

My trust was gaining in him. I let him hug Sita and hold her. But Sita still didn’t have her name.

We were all learning what her personality was like. Timid and gentle, but strong and wild.
Playful. That was how she got her name. Sita.

Sita was to stay with me, not to be taken away. We were both learning, learning to be a family. A
small one but a good one.

By the time it was decided she was to stay with me Sita was up and about. Running around the
pen and everything. I was learning how to discipline her and play gently with her.

The more we played the stronger our bond became and soon Sita was going outside.

She wasn’t taken outside very often but she loved every second of it. She was learning what the
outside world was like and how to act. But before long, the pen we were in for her birth was too small for
us. We moved into my fist pen. The pen. Our home.

This was where things got a little out of hand.”

Tiger Princess

“Sita was a tiger princess. Heir to the throne of the Orange Bengal Tigers. There was just the two
of us. But she’d be queen of Tigers. We were hopefully going to have more tigers like us in the park.

When we moved into the pen, Sita’s second home, Sita was unsure and it was up to me to show
her.

Her blue eyes still shone in the light of the sun and she loved water. We were sprayed every day
with water from a hose or the rain.

Sita wasn’t sure about our neighbours either.

 Next door, in one of the pens was her father. A Royal White Bengal Tiger. The King of the tigers.
Tygo. Sita, like me, carried the white gene and if she mated with either male that was on our other side,
who like her father were both Royal White Bengal Tiers there would be a chance of a white tiger cub.

On our other side were three Royal White Bengal Tigers. Not related, they’d just been hand
raised together.

Rewa. The Queen of the Royal White Bengal Tigers was the only female. She was a wind up
merchant alright. She wound the boys up. Abu was one of the males. He won the fights with the other
male Jahdu, who always, always seemed to get hurt. I just hoped they wouldn’t fight too much in front of
my baby.

We had visitors to the park one day, Sita was about four months old. She still had blue eyes. She
had grown too. Just below the top of my legs I think. Perhaps a bit smaller.

At the end of the visit I was lay down beside the bars, playing with my daughter when Craig and
the two men came to see us. Me and the newest resident in the park.

I accepted their company quickly and let them pet me through the bars, but Sita. She was
practically stood on me. She wanted to be centre of attention. They accepted her quickly and she didn’t
stop until they left. It definitely showed who she was.

Time moved on. Sita grew and her eyes changed to brown, they glowed. She was wilder, bigger
and stronger, and more affectionate.

She was bold with our neighbours and didn’t run away when they came to the bars or when
Jahdu and Abu started fighting. She roared in return now and rubbed herself against the bars when she
dared.

She was what I thought her brother would be like, but a female version. A very beautiful version.

Soon she was eight months old and still growing. Craig went to Africa then. A whole month
without him, a whole month of madness.

By madness I mean madness. Sita was crazy, wild, confident, the most since she was born. We
still held a close bond but she was ahead of time.

Sita used me as her prey when she started to learn to hunt. She would pounce on me
unexpectedly. Off the box, from around the corner. Everywhere. It was too bad Craig couldn’t see her.

I put her in her place though, pushing her away, or down whichever was easier. If she’s jumped
on me off the box I’d automatically lift my paw and push her down. She learnt in time.

When Craig returned with two loin cubs I was pregnant again, Tygo was the father again. We
had to call the vet to check, but I didn’t notice, and neither did Sita, we went on living our life.

Instead of the hoses to soak us Craig had ordered three troughs, one for each pen. Sita inspected
ours, the round, big thing, that’s what she called it. But she wasn’t sure about it. One look and I knew
that it was water. I went over to help and show Sita. I climbed in with my daughter after me and we had a
ball in the trough, and Sita had her first swim.
 Sita showed her true colours during those few months, and she showed, without knowing though,
that she was a true Tiger Princess.”

Alone

“My Mother has told you a lot now, about me and who I am. But she
doesn’t know what happened those two weeks she gave birth to my siblings.
But first my Mum will carry on.”

“I was pregnant when Sita was about 9 and a half months old. We were doing fine. We played
and we ate. We slept in the box, and occasionally went to bathe in the trough. But Craig was worried that
I’d give birth in the pen, like I did with my first cub. He risked a night, coming to check on me and Sita.
We exited the box when we saw the light of the torch and Craig left us in peace after a while.

But he didn’t risk it again. After breakfast the next morning he put me on the chain and led me
out of the pen. Sita hadn’t been trained and was running after me. Kind of. She went off once or twice but
we got to the barn eventually.

I was let off the chain, and together, Sita and I explored the barn and I started to chase her in
front of an audience.

We were together through the night but in the morning Craig took Sita back to our pen. We were
alone and didn’t have each other.”

“I hated it when I was taken away from Mum. I entered the pen happily,
not knowing what was happening. I carried on playing but as night fell again I
understood, I was alone. I didn’t have Mum’s soft body to lye against while we
slept. I couldn’t play with her, I couldn’t have a ball in the trough with her, and
I couldn’t practise hunting. I was frightfully alone.

Mum gave birth the next morning to two baby girls. My sisters. Mum
concentrated on them and I think she forgot about me. But I didn’t know. I still
ate and drank and slept.

But I didn’t play. I only went into the trough a few times, but just to
bathe for a short while. I wasn’t happy, not having the fun that I’d grown up to
have.

I lay there in the sun, close to the den. We didn’t sleep in the den. I
don’t know why, we just didn’t.

I still had our neighbours though, but they were the other side
of the bars. Rewa, Jahdu and Abu had enough to do between themselves and
rarely noticed me, and my Dad. He went on how he’d lived life before I was
born and when Mum was with me.

I went on living like that for the next ten days.

They were the worst of my life. The very worst, top 10. I hated it. I
wanted Mum.
 When my sisters were ten days old my Mum was put in a little bo x in
the barn and had to leave the girls alone in the hay. Two women came and
took them. Then letting Mum out into the barn again, taking the babies with
them.

Mum searched for her younger cubs, but she never found them. What
Craig was considering to do when I was their age, he did to my sisters, he took
them away from Mum to have them had raised.

I, of course, didn’t notice a thing. I was let into the barn and Mum and I
were reunited. We played and she told me why we were separated. We stayed
there over night before returning to the pen. Our Pen.”

Growing Up

“Our lives returned to normal when we returned to our pen. The hunting, swimming, sleeping,
eating, drinking, everything. We were one, Sita and I. And those ten days were when we realized how
much we meant to each other and how much we needed each other.

I missed Sita whilst I had the twins, but not as much as I should have. I was focused on the
newborn cubs and I started to forget about Sita. But when I saw Sita start running to me after the girls
had been taken away from me I realised that I needed her. I loved Sita and I still do.

Our lives were pretty much the same as before.

But only one thing changed.

Sita grew up.

I love watching her grow up, but in my heart I wanted her to stay as a cub. I wanted her to stay
my little girl. She didn’t though. I can’t change that.

When Sita was about two and a half years old we moved. Sita and I moved from the pen that had
been our home for the past few years to a bigger pen. A pen that suited Sita and myself fine. It was set
out different as well. Next door we had new neighbours, but they didn’t move in until the next year.

We adapted to our new home quickly. Sita had more prey to hunt instead of me too. Like a log
or pile of leaves. I’d join in as well.

As she grew up Sita changed. She changed in one way, keeping her wild markings as a stunning
princess. She was strong, timid and gentle still, but as she grew she wasn’t as wild.

Sita knew that she was changing and took it in her stride. She licked me clean like I was so used
to doing to her. She waited until I approached the meat that we were given for meals and then would
follow, taking her piece. It changed. And I knew that one day she’d be a good Mother.

My baby girl was growing up rapidly, time flew and soon she was three and a half years old-a full
grown tiger.”
 Sisters

“The day before Sita’s third birthday our new neighbours moved in, two Orange Bengal Tigers
Twin sisters. They were about nine months younger than Sita. I immediately knew who they were. I
recognised their markings, their roars, their eyes, even though they’re brown now, one looks like myself
and the other, the older teenager looks like Tygo, they were my missing twins, Sita’s sisters.

Craig called them by their names and soon I knew what my daughters had been named. The
oldest, who has her father’s markings, is called Kahli, and her younger sister who looks like me, is Indira.

I didn’t tell Sita and I didn’t tell the twins that they were sisters and I was their Mother. I
followed Sita, who went to see her sisters and welcomed them.

My three baby girls, Sita, Kahli, Indira and I, we were reunited.”

The Rain

“Not long after the girls moved in next door, maybe two months later the heavens opened and the
rain came down, we loved it actually. We loved the rain.

Craig sent someone around the park to check everything. There was damage at the.

It came down none stop for a full day-a day and a night. It gave us a lot of fun.

Soon the rain stopped.

We were soaked, head to toe, the floor, the box, everything was drenched in water. Everyone who
worked in the park was helping to clear the damage and wood and everything. As the day went on we
dried.

Everything was watched though, by the one and only, Sita.”

Queen
 “The day Sita turned three and a half was the day she turned from cub to adult, Princess to
Queen.

She didn’t leave the box until the meat was given to us. I hadn’t had the chance to see her until
she emerged from our bed.

When she came out it was she’d changed overnight. Her eyes shone like the stars, like her
brother who was watching over her, the star representing his life. Her markings were wilder; she was
bigger than me, in height and length. She held her head high and her fur was thick and long. You could
see the strength in her legs, paws, fangs, everywhere.

I waited until she chose her piece of meat and then accepted mine gratefully. She ate quickly.

Sita was a true Queen.

The years went on. In 2008 Sita turned four, that year was hell, everything changed. Craig left.
We were in the hands of other humans. We miss our Dad; the man who had helped me raise Sita and had
hand raised most of the animals in the park. Abu, Sita’s Uncle was killed as well.

Sita continued to rule over us, but like the rest us, she was upset. Still life went on. It stayed
pretty much the same, but with the missing link. Sita struggled and turned to me for help. I did and soon
the Queen stood tall again.

The Queen of the park, the lioness died as well, it was down to another lioness to take her place,
but Sita still had her held high.

It showed how strong the Queen was.”

Tragedy

“In October 2010 Craig hadn’t returned-but we all knew, all of us, lion, cheetah, dog, panther,
serval, tiger and baboon that he was trying to.

Sita moved into a pen to mate with Jahdu-her chance to be a good Mother came-but something
went wrong. They fought. I could hear Sita’s roars. It hurt me to hear he scream for her life.

I knew that Sita was a strong Queen and a fighter, and would win. But ever since Craig left she
hadn’t the strength, she was still strong, but a part of her was missing-like it is in all of us.

Soon I heard the roar that I didn’t want to hear. It was a cry. But a different cry. One that cried
for help.

But I remember the words:

‘GOODBYE MUM!’
 They were the words.

I roared my goodbye to her in return. Shouting her name with love and pain.

Then I heard a winning roar. My daughter, my Princess, Sita who I love so much, was dead.

I couldn’t understand it. My daughter-the Queen was dead. No. I couldn’t accept it, but I had to.
I saw the humans crying. They comforted me. She was a loss to us all. Both my son and daughter were
gone now-two of my cubs were gone. I thought I was a terrible Mother, but if I’d shared a close bond with
Sita and she loved me like I loved her I wasn’t that bad as a Mum then. I still have two daughters-Kahli is
Queen now. I love her and Indira very much, but I miss Sita and her brother very much. Too much. I
want them back

Now it is April-April 2011. I miss them so much-Sita would have been seven on March 15th. I
leave half of my meat for her still; I leave her a space everywhere. I start to play her games. I talk to her,
she talked to me. But she’s gone and I can’t bring her back. Like I can’t bring my son back.

I know they’re watching over me. They’re keeping me alive; they won’t let me give up.

I want everyone to remember Sita and who she was, that’s why I’m telling her story. I won’t
stop. Now you will know her story and remember her.

Remember the Queen. My daughter.”