OONGA RUNS through the forest, the wind picking up from behind him as if to welcome him and speed him up. Every tree that he runs past starts to flap its leaves, until a thousand jungle tongues go ululululululululululululululu all at once. But when Oonga reaches a hot little clearing, the wind dies. And the jungle voices fall silent.
There must have been some trees here until recently because their gnarled roots remain, writhing in and out of the ground as if trying to burst free to go look for the trees they once belonged to. In the middle of this clearing a two-legged metal signboard stands silently. It reads ‘india aluminium inc’. As Oonga scurries past it, kicking up those familiar little clouds of dust, the signboard vibrates with a loweerie hum. This signboard knows something, something that the jungle wants to warn Oonga about. But Oonga is in a hurry. He hears nothing except for a small hypnotic voice inside him that keeps chanting “Rama” in time with the beat of his heart. And he sees nothing except for the horizon towards which he scurries, his little legs pumping furiously....
...The Dongria Kondhs believe that the earth knows things before they even happen. The jungle floor had trembled. It had spoken to the leaves through the hum in the roots of the trees. The hum had made the branches quiver. The quivering had made the leaves flap. The leaves had shivered as if caught in a restless breeze. But the air had been quiet. The air had gone still. The air had been trying to tell the villagers all that they needed to know. But the villagers’ ears had been clogged with fear. A heart that carries dread cannot beat in time with the pulsing of the earth.
This story is from the April 16, 2021 edition of Down To Earth.
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This story is from the April 16, 2021 edition of Down To Earth.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 8,500+ magazines and newspapers.
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