Amodini, oblivious to Matongini’s concerns, was busy in her own world. It was a simple, carefree and happy world. She nestled cozily in the gnarled cradles of the Chalta[1] trees that grew abundantly in the green thickets of the Chilapata forests and felt peace pervade her being. She noticed the beautiful mosaic of dried Sal leaves on the damp forest floor and reveled in its beauty. She lay on her back facing the blue sky above and watched with boundless glee as the branches, tired from bearing plump ripened fruits, bent and twisted till it finally cracked. She closed her eyes to soak in the sounds of the jungle into her being.
She felt the earth quiver with nature’s bounty as the ripened fruit from the Chalta tree touched the soft lap of the earth below. She giggled as the shuffling trees lazily tickled her as they sashayed in the wind that blew them to such a frenzy. She traced the shy veins of the climbers embracing the thick barks of the larger trees in a tight cuddle. She played peek-a-boo with the forest from behind the voluminous drapes of the green foliage that cascaded down from every tree.
The forest sheathed in this blanket of green had always warmed her heart. She wondered at the beauty of all that she saw, felt and loved. Every moment of her waking hour she felt she could spend here lounging in her favourite trees far away from the village.
Every morning as the first rays of the sun spread its welcoming warmth on the green earth, Amu would be back in the forest. This is where she belonged. She never felt alone here unlike the other world that scared her, laughed at her, and confused her. She did not understand them nor could they fathom her depths. It was only for Owui that she went back every evening. At night when the older woman slept, Amu would often massage her knobbly fingers that were bent crooked with pain. She knew how hard Owui worked for all of them. She too wanted to do something for her in return.
One day, Amu had asked Matongini what she could do to make her happy. The old woman had smiled and pulled her to her chest. She had moved her fingers to say “Just be my little Shamchik and remain in my heart. I cannot afford to lose you.” Though Amu had snuggled closer and both of them had smiled peacefully at each other, they had somehow known that probably fate would not allow it to be so.
That day Amu sat marvelling at the gurgling waters of Bania. The river with its tiny ripples forming circular pools in its lazy flow had always mesmerised her. She could sit for hours on its banks just looking at its slow movement as it meandered leisurely to a destination only known to itself. This place was her favourite in the jungle. It was only the thought of Owui frantically waving the red scarf calling her home that troubled Amu. She hated to be a cause of worry for the old lady.
However, today was different. Not even the thought of Owui’s worried, anxious face could force her to leave the forest. It was a special day for Amu. It was a full moon night and she was to meet her friends. She knew Mata and her herd, would be congregating near the river bank to drink water and she wanted to be there to meet them.
Amodini wore the pretty Kambang[2], the delicate upper garment worn by most Rabha women, lovingly made for her by Owui. In her slim hands she carried the palao[3]in which she had stuffed fruits and other edibles as gifts for her friends. The cane basket trailed behind her marking long narrow stripes in the wet mud.
Earning this friendship had not been easy. Amu had chanced upon this herd of pachyderms rollicking in the Bania waters spraying and playing with each other, one night while she was in the forest.
There was one amongst them, she had noticed, who had stood at a dignified distance observing. Amu was awed by the way the elephant had stood elegantly swaying her huge head and blinking a pair of beautiful pear shaped eyes kindly and indulgently at her herd. She was bigger than the rest of the herd. Her huge portly structure, her wide thick pillar like legs, broad back and massive fan like ears had fascinated Amu. As she watched with rapt attention, she noticed how the big elephant conducted her herd into and out of the forest thickets, how she handled the younger ones taking them between her mammoth legs lest they be exposed to danger and how she stood patiently as they suckled her hungrily.
To Amu, she was in every sense the protector and the nurturer; the true matriarch of her herd. From that moment Amu knew she had to be the leader of the herd and had named her Mata – the mother. It had somehow suited the pachyderm so well that it seemed to Amu that Mata was born with that name.
Mata too had sensed Amu’s presence on that day. Amodini had held her breath when she saw the elephant stiffen and let out a loud trumpet alerting her herd. She saw the herd retreat slightly but Mata remained facing her. She saw the elephant raise her trunk to get her smell. Amodini stood motionless waiting anxiously.
It was then that it happened.
She did not know how nor did she intend to but Amu realised that a slow sound had escaped her throat. It was a lullaby that Owui would sing to her whenever she was sad or scared. Owui would take Amu’s hand and place them on her throat to make her realise its vibrations. It always helped to calm her. Now as she saw the elephant she unknowingly croaked the same rhythm. Strangely enough, she could see Mata relax. Slowly, she lowered her trunk and turned around ignoring her and yet not objecting to her presence.
After that first day, Amu had felt emboldened. She visited them every full moon night when the whole herd came to the Bania to drink water. She loved watching them frolicking in the Bania waters. However, she never came empty handed. She always carried something or the other for her friends.
For some strange reason, ever since that first day, Mata never felt threatened by the lithe figure on the other side of the Bania. However, she made sure none of the adventurous young calves crossed over to the other side enticed by the lure of the goodies the girl offered. In the initial days Amu had observed that none of the elephants made the first move to taste the fruits she brought. So she had thought of an idea. She built a small makeshift raft with the tree twigs and leaves, placed the fruits in them and floated it towards Mata.
The pachyderm had initially ignored these overtures of friendship. Gradually, as she got used to Amu’s presence during their evening drink by the river, she finally broke her reserve and tasted her gift. That raft became the bridge that helped Amu build a beautiful friendship. That day, when Mata had acknowledged her friendly gestures, Amu had felt tears pricking her eyes. To be trusted can be a huge feeling of gratification. Especially for Amu who always had people ridicule and throw her aside. To be made to feel that she belonged was a great attainment in her life.
Time was approaching for the herd’s arrival. As the darkness deepened, Amu moved towards the thickets. The moonlight sparkled on the Bania adorning it with innumerable shimmering silver ripples. Amu waited patiently. Soon she felt the first pulsation and saw the river tremble in respect. She knew they were coming. She moved further into the darkness so as to become oblivious to the herd.
Mata was the first to move out of the thickets. As the leader of the herd, it was her duty to be the first to face any danger lurking ahead before exposing the others. Once satisfied that the path was clear, she signalled for the others to follow. Slowly each of the elephants moved out of the jungle to lap up the cool waters of the Bania to parch their thirst. It was their evening drinking session and one they truly and thoroughly cherished.
So did Amu. She yearned to go up to them. She was not scared of the big beasts but did not want to make them apprehensive before they had their fill. Therefore, she stood in the shadows and watched them enjoy their evening ritual waiting for the moment when she could be a part of it.
Once she was assured that the elephants were comfortably sated Amu stepped out of the shadows slowly and gently floated her gift towards her friends. Mata’s young calf was the first to move out from within his mother’s stout legs. His small stubby legs, round chubby body and the little stump of a tail made him look like a big round ball. Amu found him to be the most endearing of the lot and had named him Bheem. The calf ambled as close as possible to Amu lifting his trunk to sniff the air that carried her smell. As the familiarity of the fragrance lifted his confidence, he trumpeted in buoyant mirth as if welcoming an old friend.
Despite the chilly evening air that pervaded the Chilapata forests, Amu felt a warm glow surrounding her. She was where she belonged and she knew it was home like no place ever could be.
[1] Indian name for the Elephant Apple
[2] A woven upper garment that doubled up as a belt and scarf worn by Rabha Women
[3] A cane fishing basket used by the Rabha tribes to catch fish. It is also known as the Jhakoi.
Chapter 3
A forest fire spreads to Matongini’s village. The fire seems to have sent the animals in disarray and Mata’s herd is on a rampage. They reach her village and is on the verge of completely razing it to the ground. Can Amu save her village? More importantly can she save herself?
[…] Chapter 2 […]