'Pakhi' a story by Banaphool ( Translated from Bengali)

It was a beautiful day, in the forest as the Peacock and his lady walked around the lush green surroundings. The Peacock suddenly broke into a dance, while the Peahen watched, both lost in their own happy world.

Suddenly they heard the roar of the king of the jungle. The Lion, as the king was not too happy at what he thought was disturbance to his peace by the birds prancing around. He ordered the Peacock to stop dancing immediately. But the Peacock did not listen to him and continued dancing. Angry and agitated at being disobeyed, the king pounced on the peacock, but both birds immediately flew away to a nearby tree.

The king of the jungle was so angry that his orders had been disobeyed that he wanted to immediately do something about it. He talked to his assistant the Tiger and told him how disobedient the birds had been. The Tiger agreed to the Lion's story, adding that the Peacocks were indeed a nuisance because whenever he was out hunting they would cry out and warn the animals before hand of the Tiger's coming.

Both hatched a plan in order to catch the impudent peacock. Soon one day, a Jackal visited the Peacock s as they were dancing again. On seeing the Jackal, the birds immediately flew to a tree top to save themselves. The Jackal pleaded with the Peacock to come with him, since his wife was not well. He said that his wife had given birth a few days ago and had since then been behaving absurdly. The doctor, a Mr. Crow had advised them to show the wife the dance of a Peacock, if they wanted her condition to improve.

On hearing this, the Peacock laughed a lot. He said, 'I'm sorry but perhaps you don't know that I dance only to pleasure my wife." The Jackal had to return empty handed and this completely made a flop story of the plan that had been hatched by the Lion and the Tiger to catch the Peacock, when they thought he would accompany the Jackal.

But the Lion would not give up yet. And he got a chance to avenge his insult when he saw one day the Peacock was chasing a snake. The Snake is usually food for Peacock’s and the Lion thought this would be a good time to take his revenge. He suddenly pounced on the Peacock and even though he could not actually catch the bird, which flew away, the act had the effect of making the Snake easily get away, just when the Peacock was about to catch it.

This act on part of the Lion angered the Peacock who asked the lion why he had done it. When the Lion told him that he was angry at the Peacock because it had not listened to him, who was the King of the jungle, the Peacock said, ‘you might be the king of the animals, but we are birds and it is our right to fly wherever we want in the jungle and my dance was for pleasure, it should not affect you so much. But what you have done, I shall not forget and take revenge.’

Very soon, one day the Lion was out hunting and he had almost sunk his teeth into a young Lamb. Just then he saw, the mighty wings of an Eagle swoop down and snatch away the little Lamb with powerful claws. As an astonished and crestfallen Lion looked on, the Eagle said, ‘You have snatched away the prey of one of the birds, something not tolerated amongst animals. Being the king of birds, it was an insult to all of us. We as birds roam free and we soar high above everyone. We are the poets amongst animals. But we do not take away the prey from another animal’s mouth. I give back to you what was yours’

Saying so the Eagle dropped the lamb into the astonished feet of the Lion and soared off.

*Please note, I am no translator. It’s a beautiful & simple story that I read & thought of sharing with friends here. The story is a gist of the original story by the writer Banaphool, the Bengali writer. Banaphool is the pen name of the Bengali author, Balai Chand Mukhopadhyay. Born in Bihar, he began writing as a teenager and adopted the his pen name Banaphool (wild-flower in Bengali) to hide his work from his tutors. He is most noted for his short vignettes, often just one page long.

(Image credit- http://devdutt.com/articles/indian-mythology/sacred-beasts.html )

Of Dragon Flies and Glow Worms

Smriti, an unusual name and eyes that reminded you of dreams yet to be dreamt. The day she crossed my threshold with wonder and amazement written in her eyes I envisaged my childhood, come back to me. Her mother Lalitabai was my house- maid, turned ‘neighbor’s envy owners pride’. Housed in the suburbs of the city a house- maid was a priceless item and I hung on to her like one. She hummed, she swept, she moaned, she brushed all with perennial sing- song of a yearly raise.
Always the first to abide by our odd requests, Smriti, the one with quiet lifestyle, quiet walk and almost every other thing quiet…walked into our lives need I say quietly, but surely. She became a part of our furniture and the walls, almost matching & mingling in a shade of her own with that of the pastels. One could witness in her the urge to ask, to know of the very mundane that encompassed her wonder. With deft fingers she oiled my hair, carried about glasses of water or in her shrilly singsong voice rendered me a song. All for the simple pleasure of learning ‘Angrezi’, English as we, the lesser of the dreamers call it. She was quick to learn and it was a joy to see her eyes light up on seeing some crayons. Red, blue, green she had used up all of them to color the alphabets as much as she colored up our household. Her curiosity and amazement in the mundane things of life - a refrigerator, the merry ring of the phone all reminded me of an age gone by………..that of my own childhood when life was a beautiful wonder, when running after dragon flies was the aim of life and where the presence of a glow worm was enough to transform one into the world of fairies. As Smriti and time rolled into one another, she began to unfurl slowly but steadfastly to the world that I had thought I would introduce her to indeed I took it to be my right that she would learn the ropes from me. She was me after all, being with her, feeling for her, teaching her and perhaps living up my childhood dreams through her had made me possessive- she was rightfully mine…..well that’s what I thought or guessed maybe. Into my 25th year of marriage with not a child to boast of, I was beginning to dream of rosy evenings spending teaching her to sing or for that matter just being a part of my fantasies that no one but her would understand.
It was Durga Puja, the Goddess with the ten hands had come forth to bless us; it was going to be a night of revelry from the likes of it, loudspeakers blasted songs meant to incite the reveler within one; when all at once I glanced at my little one….the one of dreams, I called her my little one (she was my childhood incarnate, you see). Dressed in a pink Salwar Kameez, she was smiling and talking to someone down below in the street, that smile caught my eyes it was innocent all right but there was something else too, a pain shot through me, I couldn't’t understand what was happening to her. As if nothing had happened I walked up to the balcony with her, there was a boy, a young boy smiling at her and calling her downstairs. Smriti was her shiest best, I could see she wanted to go but was simply waiting for me to say so, ‘Go’ I said releasing her from my bondage, because I could see she was aware now of a world that beckoned of other things to her, of love, of satisfaction, I could see it all written in those eyes blended in vain with the remnants of the innocence that were. I couldn't fathom why I felt so let down, so fragile as if the child within me had stopped playing. My eyes were misty, as I wished the Goddess back at her home, as if that would alter things. Things run the way they ought to, it was wrong to expect the woman within the child to behave as one…..child I mean.
It was maybe the tiny hope that some women grow up enough to let the child within them still play, which had visions of some women who still do dream dreams that whisper of dragon flies and glow worms by the night to bring them back the land of the fairies.