Kalu the bear lashed out, clawing the white man’s face until it bled. Tarzan stood a few paces away, dagger in hand, while nine injured men lay groaning nearby. Anger burned in Tarzan’s eyes. Kalu left the bleeding white man by the tree and lumbered over to Tarzan.
Reading this, Maryam shifted in bed, took a deep breath, and continued.
"Kalu! I despise bloodshed, but these white men leave me no choice. One must ask, what harm have the animals of this jungle ever done to them?" Tarzan said.
"Chieftain! These white men seem mad to me. They spill blood over trivial matters. Anyway, what shall we do with this one?" Kalu asked, eyeing the wounded man.
Before Tarzan could reply, the bloodied man hastily spoke:
"Tarzan! I have a plea. You are merciful, and we were truly in the wrong. With proper medical care, we can survive. Please, take us back to our ship. We would be forever in your debt."
"Very well. But never set foot on this side again," Tarzan said, signaling the wounded men to rise.
"Ah! Tarzan is so merciful..." Maryam whispered, closing the book and setting it aside.
She was a sweet, nine-year-old girl with a fierce obsession for Tarzan stories. Sometimes she wished she could meet Tarzan and his animal companions. She lay awake for a long time, pondering over Tarzan and his friends, until sleep finally claimed her.
The moment she stepped into the drawing room, she nearly leaped in surprise. The words slipped from her lips unbidden:
"Tarzan... Uncle...?"
Tarzan, seated on the drawing-room sofa, smiled at her and walked closer.
"Maryam, my child! How are you? How have you been?"
"Un... unc... uncle! I'm fine. You—here?" she stammered. She could never have imagined Tarzan appearing before her in the flesh.
"Maryam! Things are entirely peaceful in my jungle these days, so I decided to travel the world."
"Oh! Are you visiting my city first?"
"Not at all. Before coming here, I passed through several countries, and I’ve even seen a few cities in Pakistan. Today, I happen to be in your city of Jhang. I hear you read my adventures with great enthusiasm?"
"Yes, absolutely! I love your heroic deeds. I wish your stories were featured in every children's magazine," she blurted out.
"Splendid... You are a wonderful child," Tarzan said.
"Uncle! I longed so much to meet you. Now that you're right here, I'm so happy." Maryam was genuinely overjoyed. Then, turning toward Fayyaz, she said:
"This is my older brother, Fayyaz. He loves writing stories and sometimes writes about your adventures. And this is my mischievous little brother, Guddu—he reads your stories too."
Plump little Guddu blushed, lowered his head, and suddenly piped up:
"Uncle! Where is your monkey friend? Didn't he come with you?"
"You mean Manko?"
"Yes, him!"
"He stayed behind in the jungle. I asked him to come along, but he simply didn't feel like it."
"Uncle! You have always fought evil men. Won't you help us too?" Fayyaz asked, deep in thought.
"What kind of help?" Tarzan asked, surprised.
"In our neighborhood, some men openly sell narcotics. No one dares question them, and people are slowly becoming addicted. Can't you rid us of such people?"
"Oh? So this trade exists here as well?" Tarzan remarked in surprise.
"Uncle! Good and bad people exist everywhere, don't they?" Maryam quickly added.
"Well said, Maryam... Good and bad people do exist everywhere. Very well, let's do something. Tell me the details."
Tarzan leaped high, catching a thick branch of a tree that stood adjacent to a large mansion. He fixed his gaze inside the courtyard. Five men were seated around a table, drinking tea. Nearby, a large mobile phone lay on the table. Moments later, the phone rang. A man with a heavy mustache quickly snatched it to his ear and began speaking.
"Fine. The goods will reach you today, but payment must be immediate." These were the only words Tarzan could make out from the entire exchange. The heavily mustached man hung up and resumed his tea. Seeing this, Tarzan hooted like an owl. A short while later, Fayyaz reached the base of the tree, and Tarzan slid down to join him. Fayyaz looked at him questioningly.
"They are dispatching a shipment today," Tarzan whispered.
"Oh... Uncle! What do we do now?" Fayyaz asked nervously.
"Surveillance. We will watch them. As soon as they dispatch the goods, we will alert the police," Tarzan said with a smile.
"And what if the police are in cahoots with them, Uncle? There are corrupt officers who ally with such criminals and tip them off," Fayyaz said, anxiety etched on his face.
"Oh? Does that happen here too?" Tarzan asked, astonished.
"Yes! Not just here—everywhere."
"No matter. We will try notifying the police first. If they fail to act, I am here—I'll handle it. Come, let's sit in this tree and keep watch." Tarzan scaled the tree swiftly, and Fayyaz followed.
The two concealed themselves within the dense foliage, keeping their eyes locked on the mansion.
An hour passed... then a second. As the third hour began, they stirred. A van rolled out of the mansion’s gate and onto the street. Scarcely had it moved a short distance when Tarzan and Fayyaz scrambled down the tree, sprinted to the motorcycle hidden in the nearby bushes, and began tailing the van.
For reasons unknown, the van traveled at a leisurely pace. Thirty minutes later, it reached a deserted road. Tarzan sat behind Fayyaz on the motorcycle.
"Uncle, where have we ended up?" Fayyaz whispered.
"Silence!" Tarzan hissed.
Suddenly, a gunshot rang out. Tarzan leaped off the motorcycle just as a large car roared past them at breakneck speed. Panicked, Fayyaz braked hard. He looked back to see the van speeding away, while Tarzan sat on the road, clutching his wounded hand.
"Oh... Uncle! You're hurt!" Fayyaz cried out in distress.
"Not me—my left hand caught it. Alas, we lost them!"
"Yes, we couldn't catch them..." Fayyaz muttered softly.
"No matter. Another time. Come, let's go home," Tarzan said, turning the motorcycle back toward home.
"Yes? Who are you looking for?" Fayyaz asked the tall man standing at their door.
"I am looking for Tarzan."
"Wh—wh—who are you looking for? Say that again." Fayyaz felt a violent jolt. He and Maryam had assumed no one else knew Tarzan was staying with them.
"There's no need to panic. Open the drawing-room door and call Tarzan. If your father is home, call him as well."
"Oh... Is everything alright? Who are you?"
"Son, I will explain everything. Just open the door."
Fayyaz, Guddu, Maryam, their father Akhtar Shumar, and Tarzan listened in stunned silence as the tall man continued:
"I had been tracking those drug dealers for a long time, but never found the right opportunity to bust them. Today, while staking them out from a tree, I was amazed to see Tarzan in the very same tree. My sons read his adventures passionately, so I recognized him instantly. Then, when I realized he was also trying to catch the dealers, I was floored. Seeing Fayyaz with him made everything clear—obviously, at this boy's behest, Tarzan had taken on the mission. When Tarzan fell from the motorcycle and that large car sped past you—I was the one driving it."
As the tall man spoke, the events of the previous day flashed before Fayyaz and Tarzan's eyes.
"Oh... so you caught the drug dealers?" Maryam asked eagerly.
"Yes, I caught them," the tall man smiled.
"Some of my colleagues were in a car just ahead of the dealers' van," he added, causing everyone to gasp in astonishment.
"Who are you?" Maryam's father, Akhtar Shumar, demanded.
"They call me Inspector Irfan," he smiled.
"Oh... so... you are the renowned police inspector, Inspector Irfan—the very name that makes criminals tremble!"
