The passage describes an incident in Burna during which the author, George Orwell, find himself as the centre of attraction.
1. One day something happened which was enlightening. It was a tiny incident in itself, but it gave me a better in sight than I had before of how human beings behave. I was told that an elephant was ravaging the market and was asked to come and do something about it. I did not know what I could do, but I wanted to see what was happening.
2. As I started out, I took my old rifle, which was much too small to kill an elephant, but I thought the noise might help scare it off. Several Burmans stopped me on the way and told me about the elephant's deeds. It was not a wild elephant, but a tame one which had suddenly been seized by a fit of frenzy. This is not uncommon, even among tame elephants, and they are chained up when a fit appears imminent. However, this elephant had broken its chain and escaped. Its 'mahout' (trainer and keeper), the only person who could manage it when it was in that state, had set out in pursuit, but had taken the wrong direction.
3. Now the elephant was in the village. The local people had no weapons and were quite helpless against it. It had already destroyed a bamboo hut, killed a cow, turned the municipal van over and inflicted severe damage on it. The village where the elephant had been seen was a very poor one, a labyrinth of squalid bamboo huts, thatched with palm leaf, winding all over a steep hillside. Here, together with the local police officer, we began questioning the people as to the whereabouts of the elephant. However, we failed to get any definite information. That is invariably the case everywhere. A story always sounds clear enough at a distance but the nearer you get to the scene of events the more vague it becomes. I had almost made up my mind that the whole story was untrue when something caught my attention. I heard loud cries of indignation and clicking of tongues a little distance away. Evidently there was something of interest there. I went round a corner and saw a man's dead body sprawling in the mud. I was told that the elephant had come suddenly upon him and caught him with its trunk before he could run away. As soon as I saw the dead man I sent for an elephant rifle.
4. Meanwhile, I gathered that the elephant was in the paddy fields just below. As I started forward, the village population flocked out of their huts and followed me. They had seen the rifle and were all shouting excitedly that I was going to shoot the elephant. They had not shown much interests in the interest in the elephant when he was merely ravaging their homes, but it was different now he was to be shot. It was a bit of fun to them, as it would be to a crowd anywhere, besides, they wanted the meat.
5. The whole atmosphere made me vaguely uneasy. I had no intention of shooting the elephant and had merely sent for the rifle to defend myself if necessary. In any case, it is always unnerving to have a large crowd following you. I marched down the hill, looking and feeling a fool, with the rifle over my shoulder and an ever growing army of people jostling at my heels. The elephant was standing sixty metres from the road, his left side towards. He took not the slightest notice of the crowd's approach. He was tearing up bunches of grass, beating them against his knees and stuffing them into his mouth.
6. As soon as I saw the elephant, I knew with perfect certainty that I should not shoot him. It is a serious matter to shoot a working elephant. Such an action is comparable to destroying a huge and costly piece of machinery, and obviously one should not do it if it can possibly be avoided. And at that distance, peacefully eating, the elephant looked no more dangerous than a cow. I also thought that his fit of frenzy was already subsiding; in which case he would just wander harmlessly about until his 'mahout' caught him. I decided that I would watch him for a little while to make sure that he did not turn savage again, and then go home.
7. But at that moment I glanced round at the crowd, blocking the road for a long distance on either side. I looked at the sea of faces, all certain that the elephant was to be shot. They were watching me as they would watch a conjuror about to perform a trick. Suddenly I realized that I had to shoot the elephant after all. The people expected it of me and I had to do it. I could feel their two thousand wills pressing me forward irresistibly. I perceived at that moment that I was not free to do as I pleased; I was a puppet pushed to and fro by the will of those faces behind me. It dawned on men that I had committed myself to shooting the elephant when I sent for the rifle. I could not now sink feebly away having done nothing. The crowd would laugh at me.
8. In spite of all this pressure I was still very reluctant to shoot the elephant. I watched him beating his bunch of grass against his knees with that preoccupied grandmotherly air that elephants have. It seemed to me it would be murder to shoot an elephant and never wanted to. Besides, there was this beast's owner to be considered. The elephant was worth much more alive than dead. I had to quickly and resolutely. I turned to some experienced looking Burmans who had been there when I arrived and asked how the elephant had been behaving. They all said he took no notice of anyone if left alone but might charge if one got too close to him.
9. I decided to walk up to within about ten metres of the elephant and test his behaviour. If he charged I could shoot, if he took no notice I would leave him alone. But I was a poor shot with a rifle and the ground was soft mud into which I would sink at every step. If the elephant charged and I missed him, I would have as much chance of escape as a toad under a steam- roller.
10. The sole thought in my mind now was that if anything went wrong, the crowd would see me pursued, caught, trampled on and reduced to a corpse. If that happened, it was quite probable that some of them would laugh. That would never do. There was only alternative, I lay down on the road to get a better aim. The crowd grew very still, they were going to have their bit of fun after all. When I pulled the trigger I did not hear the bang but heard rather the roar of delight that went up from the crowd.
Adapted from Shooting the Elephant by George Orwell.