When the winter season arrives, the water in the lakes, ponds, and rivers completely dries up. During the rainy season, however, there is an opportunity to easily catch fish right in the ponds and drains near the edge of the house. Alongbar and his friends cannot comprehend why there is such a vast difference between the winter season and the rainy season. Their relationship with the dust, sand, and wild fruits found during the winter season is very good. Similarly, during the rainy season, their connection with the water, mud, lakes, ponds, and drains becomes deeply intimate. Whatever situation they encounter, they are able to adapt well to it and get along.
Winter has arrived again. This year, since the end of the rainy season until today, it hasn’t rained even once. For a couple of days, it seemed on the verge of raining, but it didn’t. For a few days, there was even thunder without any clouds, yet it still didn’t rain. Nowadays, it is completely dry everywhere around. If even a couple of people walk along the paths and roads, dust rises up. If someone’s Yamaha motorcycle or an old truck speeds by along the village road, it kicks up so much blinding dust that you can’t even open your eyes. Even so, Alongbar and his friends keep playing all day long—coming and going, running and walking along such roads. Sometimes they roll bicycle tires, sometimes they turn jackfruit leaves into handheld fans and run around, and sometimes they turn a banana stem into a nylon toy truck and drive it along the road.
…they shout, and in a short while, they start racing each other down the road. None of them feel any exhaustion, tiredness, fear, or shyness.
Sometimes the village children play in someone’s yard and make a loud racket. If the homeowner gets annoyed by the noise, they grab a stick and chase after them. But who can they actually catch by chasing? The older folks can’t even get close to catching up with them. The children can run incredibly fast. They run so fast that among them, there are kids who can sprint as swiftly as rabbits.
Since this morning, Rwisumwi had been cleaning rice. Right after eating his morning meal, Alongbar, who had gone out to play, came walking back into the house on stilts (long wooden legs) and called out loudly to his mother.
“Mother, I need a plastic bag!”
His mother looked at his face and asked,
“Why do you need a plastic bag?”
“We are going to gather jujube fruits (wild plums).”
Looking at his face for a moment, she felt a bit anxious. Whenever he goes far from the house with his friends, they always end up getting into some kind of mischief. Sometimes he returns with a hurt hand, sometimes a hurt leg, and sometimes with aches and pains in his back. Looking at his face, his mother spoke with a tone of worried caution:
“Don’t go getting yourself hurt again. Just the other day, you climbed the jujube tree and fell flat on your face. It’s a miracle your leg didn’t break!”
“I won’t climb the jujube tree today. I will just poke them down with a stick.”
“There is a plastic bag in the kitchen that was used yesterday to bring onions and garlic. Take that one and go.”
Alongbar took the plastic bag from the kitchen and stuffed it into his pants pocket. Stepping onto his stilts (daobo athing), he began to walk away slowly. His mother watched him go and called out after him:
“They just can’t bring themselves to leave those stilts alone! One of these days, you’re going to take a nasty spill and break your hip, mark my words. Just wait, I’m going to throw them in the fire and burn them all up!”
Alongbar met up with his village friends—Mithinga, Swrangsar, Sudemsath, and Anjalu. Walking together on their stilts, they made their way to the hollow grounds belonging to Dabdong Mahajwn. Three jujube (wild plum) trees stood there, well-known to everyone in the village. Right now, the trees were bursting with ripe, yellowing fruit. Among them, one particular jujube tree was a favorite of Alongbar and his crew. Its fruit was incredibly sweet and delicious. Reaching the tree, they immediately began picking and eating the fruit. Swrangsar climbed up into the branches and started shaking them as hard as he could. The ripe yellow plums showered down, hitting the ground with a soft, heavy pattering sound.
They gathered and ate to their hearts’ content. Once they had eaten their fill, they stuffed the rest into the plastic bag to bring back home. On their way back, they stopped to play for a little while on the village road. Alongbar had set his bag of jujubes down on the ground by the side of the path. While they were playing, Mithinga accidentally stepped right on the bag, squashing the fruits completely.
Alongbar flew into a furious rage at Mithinga and began shouting at him harshly. Unable to take the scolding, Mithinga raised his voice right back and argued loudly in his own defense. Incapable of controlling their tempers, the two boys stood toe-to-toe, glaring at each other, and grabbed one another by the neck. They started trading heavy blows, punching each other squarely, and kicking wildly. They wrestled and rolled around on the ground, completely covered from head to toe in dust. Seeing them fight, the rest of their friends just stood around in a circle, watching blankly. Anjalu stood there too, simply waiting to see who would win the fight.
While they were rolling around and fighting, a village girl named Dwisri ran to Alongbar’s mother and brought her the news that the boys were fighting. As soon as she got the news, Rwisumwi grabbed the cattle stick that was kept on the granary beam and came charging towards them at full speed. Alongbar had Mithinga pinned down and was wrestling with him. He was trying to grab Mithinga by the neck. Right at that moment, Rwisumwi arrived at the spot and struck Alongbar squarely on his backside with the stick she held in her hand. Instantly, Alangbar rubbed his sore backside and bolted away. Mithinga, who had been pinned down under Alongbar, stood up as soon as he was freed, but Rwisumwi struck him hard on his thigh with the stick too. He didn’t even realize who had hit him so suddenly. Instantly, Mithinga also rubbed his bruised backside and began to run away.
Seeing Rwisumwi’s furious rage, the other village children who were standing around watching the fight scattered and ran away in all directions one after another. Watching the children flee, Rwisumwi stood in the middle of the path, seething, and shouted after them:
“Your behavior has truly become too much! Just let me catch you close by, I’m warning you. I will skin your thighs raw! Can’t you people learn to live together in peace and affection, huh?”
From swinging the stick so forcefully, Rwisumwi’s tied hair had come completely undone and disheveled. She tucked the stick under her armpit and gathered her messy, scattered hair back into a neat bun. Right nearby, in the courtyard close to the edge of her house, Sombari had been busy uprooting unwanted weeds and clearing the ground; she paused her work for a moment from her corner to stare blankly at Rwisumai. Monasri, too, was watching the whole scene unfold blankly from a distance.
She thought to herself, even if they are other people’s children, they really deserve to be disciplined like this. Their mischief has gone completely out of hand. Every single day, it’s the same routine of fighting, teasing, and picking arguments. Yet, in just a few moments, all this chaos will turn right back into loud laughter and playful celebration.
“…they will play, and in just a little while, you’ll hear them crying over some petty disagreement again. Managing them has truly become exhausting.”
Thinking this way, Raisumai walked briskly back towards the house with the stick in hand. She refocused her mind on her chores. Instead of idling around lazily, she thought to herself that she must finish up all her work in a short span of time.
In the evening, Rwisumwi’s entire family gathered around the fire to warm themselves for a while. After studying for a bit, Roji, Alangbar, and Bigai joined them around the fire. During this time, Rwisumwi was counseling her children. She explicitly told Alangbar not to keep going into the deep forest. The forest is extremely terrifying; deep inside it, dangerous leopards and wild elephants roam around constantly. One can never predict at what moment they might cross paths with a wild beast. Hearing this conversation, the father began telling Alongbar and the others a story about his late father. Alongbar’s grandfather’s name was Dariya. Because he kept a thick, bushy beard that could easily conceal a couple of bidi packets, the village folks used to call him “Dariya” (the bearded one).
One day, Dariya tucked a long, sharp traditional dagger securely into his waist, slung a heavy load of hunting gear and weapons over his thigh, and ventured deep into the forest to hunt wild game. At that time, the area around Amteka was completely engulfed by dense jungle and wild undergrowth. It was a massive, frightening wilderness. If one tells stories of those old days now, Alongbar and his generation wouldn’t even believe it; they would simply dismiss it as a made-up fairy tale. Back then, Alongbar and his siblings weren’t even born—in fact, his father hadn’t even married Alongbar’s mother, Rwisumwi, yet. Alangbar’s father himself was just a small child back then.
Deep in that forest, Dariya suddenly heard the terrifying, deafening roar of a wild elephant. A massive tree nearby was shaking violently back and forth. Up in the sky, circles of birds were flying frantically, making a loud commotion and screeching in distress.
Dariya could not immediately fathom what had suddenly happened. Uncertain of what was actually taking place, he drew the long, heavy traditional dagger (thungri/emphi) that was tucked at his waist and cautiously advanced closer and closer. Only upon reaching the spot did it become crystal clear to him: an incredibly massive python had tightly coiled half of its body around the waist of a wild elephant and was pinning it ruthlessly against a tree.
Exerting every ounce of strength it possessed, the elephant was desperately struggling to break free from the python’s grip. On the other hand, the python, with its long and muscular body tightly constricted, was trying its absolute best to crush and hold down the elephant. Both were unleashing immense power; both were fighting with all their might. The elephant was trying to escape, while the python was determined to squeeze the life out of it. Amidst this violent struggle, the tree was shaking and swaying heavily back and forth.
Unsure of who to assist or what to do first, Alongbar’s grandfather decided to take a decisive strike and hacked deeply into the python. Instantly, the wounded python began to writhe and thrash around in agony. The entire ground became soaked and stained with the snake’s blood. Only then was the elephant, which had been agonizingly trapped by the python, finally saved. Fearing that it might also be struck or harmed, the elephant extended its trunk and bowed down deeply to salute and thank Dariya in gratitude. Dariya, too, did not cause any harm to it.
With its heavily bruised and aching body, the elephant slowly limped away and disappeared back into the deep jungle. Dariya stood there watching it leave, holding his long dagger which was now dripping with blood. The birds that had been circling frantically in the sky grew quiet and gradually flew away here and there, leaving the sky clear once more.
Alongbar and the others listened to this story in rapt, silent attention. After hearing it to the very end, they began to wonder whether it was a made-up myth or a true story. In the end, they chose to believe that the tale was indeed true. Looking closely at their faces, the father spoke again:
“Amteka is no longer the way it used to be in the old days. Now, villages have sprung up all around. Settlements and cultivated fields have extended all the way to the Bhutan hills (Gongar Hajw). Those ancient, sky-touching forests of the past…”
“…those sky-high trees have all been cut down completely. What used to be a massive, untouched wilderness has now turned into people’s private betel nut orchards and betel leaf gardens.”
After chatting for a little while longer around the fire, they all headed into their respective rooms to sleep. No one can truly predict what state they will be in or what will happen to them while they are asleep. Yet, humans always look forward to waking up at the next break of dawn to plan which chores and duties they will begin working on. That very hope is the greatest driving force behind the desire to keep living.