CHILDREN OF THE ENCHANTED JUNGLE

BY

TIM MURARI
©Timeri N. Murari.

FOR ANHIL

THE BIG PEOPLE

Standing on the southern bank of the wide river that separated themfrom the jungle, were three
people. It was dusk, but even the fading light couldn’t hide the greed in their eyes, as they stared at the
dense tangle of trees so temptingly near. They didn’t notice the beauty of the setting sun brushing the
tops of the trees a pale golden red or the flocks of crows, parrots, mynahs and koels flying across, calling
loudly, as they returned to their nests deep in the jungle. In the minds of two of the three persons, the
jungle was already razed and they were calculating their wealth from such destruction. They would
become multi-millionaires from selling the timber and exploiting the cleared land. But for the third
person, who stood slightly apart from the other two, and had no interest in money, the jungle held a
secret that she had searched for many years. Varang was taller than her companions, slim and shapely,
and wore a fine black silk outfit and black, knee-high boots. She had an oval face which could have been
beautiful but it was marred by a triangular beak of a nose which she caressed as if to reassure herself it
hadn’t moved. She had once considered having the shape changed by plastic surgery into something
more suitable—a gentle curve with a bob at the end—but it was a genetic inheritance and she was
ultimately reluctant to change the feature that made her so mesmeric to strangers. People could never
take their eyes off her cruel nose. Her eyes were as black as the clothes she wore. They were like dead
zones in her face and because of that it was hard to read Varang’s moods. On her left wrist was a bright
gold Rolex watch, man-sized, which she looked at frequently, and on the fingers of both hands she wore
rings with precious stones inset in them. Every now and then her fingers flexed out, like talons, snapped
on empty air, and returned to the folds of the garment. She paced a few feet away from her two
companions, and stared out across the silvery river.Bhask noticed her impatience and felt uneasy. He
was a round, short man with a bald head and a fringe of greying hair surrounding the bald. He wore the
finest white shirt and white pyjamas, and rattled with gold—chains, bracelets, rings—whenever he
moved. Every now and then he ran his small tongue over his lips, already salivating over the money he
would make from this venture. All he ever thought of was how to make as much money as he could with
as little effort as possible. Beside him was his son Rhask, a boy of around seventeen, who, like his
father, was also fat and small; but he had a head of thick, black curly hair. He also had the face of a spoilt
child—petulant lips and sullen eyes hidden by dark glasses.‘How many children live in the
jungle?’Varang asked no one in particular, but expected a reply. Her voice sounded frail at first, but
then one realised that there was a steely resolve behind each word. She was much older than she
looked too; there was an ancient timbre in her voice, as if she came from another era, another
place.‘What’re you talking about?’ Bhask said. ‘I didn’t know children lived in the jungle. If they are living
in it, I’m surprised the animals haven’t eaten them up. Not that they’d make much of a meal for
anyone.’ He laughed out aloud at his own wit.‘Does it worry you that there are children in there?’Bhask
laughed. ‘Why should it? They’ll be driven out when we begin cutting down all the trees.’Standing apart
from them Shyam overheard the exchange. He was a gaunt man with sad eyes, dressed in threadbare
clothes—a patched shirt and a grubby pair of pyjamas—and he was barefoot. He had been summoned
to stand behind them at the water’s edge, and he waited nervously.Two small boys, thin and scruffy,
with large anxious? nervous eyes, came towards the gathering. They could not have been more six or
seven years old and each carried a wooden tray with cups of tea and plates of biscuits. They could
barely keep their trays steady as they passed each person, who took a cup without even looking at the
boys. As the weight shifted on the tray, one of the boys, unable to adjust the balance in time, dropped
two cups of tea. Rhask took a step towards the boy and, without saying a word, but with a smile,
slapped him across the face so hard that the boy fell. Bhask smiled in approval at his son’s action and
Varang ignored it. The boy’s companion stood trembling as the last cup was removed from his tray and
it was only then that he helped up the other boy, who was crying. They remained standing behind the
group, waited to retrieve the empty cups and returned to their chores in the tent kitchen further up on
the slope.‘I asked a question,’ Varang snapped.‘We don’t know,’ someone spoke out behind
them.‘Come here,’ Varang ordered.Shyam stepped forward timidly. He’d not meant to open his mouth.
He had a few days’ growth, which turned his face a ghostly white, and his toes curled in the dirt with
nervousness. Varang frightened him.‘You’re from this part of the country?’‘Yes."So, can’t you people
count? Ten, twenty … more?’‘We’ve never seen the children. They are there but when we look for them,
we can’t find them. We believe they’re ghost
‘They’re not ghosts.’

Shyam knew they weren’t ghosts. The children were there in the jungle. As were two of his babies. His
wife had given birth to twins, both boys, but they had been born blind. How could they afford to raise
two blind boys? They would be a burden all through their lives. They wouldn’t be able to go to school or
work in the fields. They would only sit at home and that was two extra mouths to feed. And yet, they
were beautiful babies. Shyam knew about the children of the jungle. They would care for the babies and
maybe in the jungle being blind didn’t matter. At least in the jungle they might live awhile, he and his
wife had reasoned, and they would be cared for. So one night, he and his wife had carried the two
babies, swum across the river and left them in the reeds. They had kissed their babies goodbye, and
crying softly, had swum back to the other side. This had happened over ten years ago and he imagined
the boys would have grown up by now, not into adults, but like children of that age. Of course, they
would not know he was their father, babies didn’t have that memory. Even if they did have that
memory, how would they recognise him? They were blind.

‘And no one has seen them?’

‘No one. Sometimes, we can hear them calling to each other, walking on the dry leaves, a branch
bending under a child’s weight. We have heard singing too and while the singing is heard, nothing within
hearing distance in the jungle can move. Every animal, serpent, bird and insect is so enchanted that
they stop whatever they’re doing. Only when the singing stops can they move again.’‘That’s all
nonsense, superstitious nonsense you village people believe in. Do you know where they live then?’‘In
the jungle,’ Shyam said, thinking it was a stupid question since Varang knew the children were in the
jungle.‘No, no, no … I know that, you idiot,’ she said angrily. ‘They must be living in a certain place, a
hiding place. A cave maybe? A secret ravine? They must be living near … something.’

‘We don’t know where they live.’

‘We will, very soon,’ she said and turned to Bhask. ‘When do you start cutting down the jungle?’He
checked behind him. Where the ground sloped up and flattened out were around a hundred men milling
around fourteen large yellow machines. These were bulldozers with huge, shiny blades which could
flatten anything in their path. Some of the men were unloading chainsaws from the back of a truck. They
made a great noise, talking and testing the chainsaws.‘Soon, Madam, very soon.’‘Your work will not be
as easy as you think. This jungle is unlike any other that you’ve destroyed.’‘Why not?’ Bhask laughed
‘The land has no voice, it’s helpless. We can do with it what we want. There are only animals, snakes and
birds in it, like in any other jungle, and of course, now the children. What can they do but die?’

She hesitated, not certain herself. ‘The children could fight you.’
‘Children fight me?’ He laughed so hard that he began to cry.

He stopped and snapped his fingers at a man standing further up the slope. The man ran to join them,
carrying his AK-47 machine gun. Bhask took it, snapped off the safety catch, aimed at the distant jungle,
and fired a long burst of bullets, shattering the silence. Birds cried out and flew up into the sky, and this
made Bhask laugh even louder.

‘That’s what will happen to them if the children even think of fighting me,’ he boasted, and threw the
weapon back to his bodyguard. As the woman made him nervous, he hesitated for a moment before
plunging on. ‘But why do you want the jungle destroyed, Madam?’

‘I told you once already, for the money, of course,’ she lied easily.

He would never know that a source of unlimited power over the world, and even up to the stars, was
somewhere in the jungle, near the children.

A CHILD MEETS perythala

The ferocious tiger, perythala, arrogant as a prince, heard the ruckus of birds calling out their warnings
that he was lying in the shadows of a peepul tree, and rose. He was waiting for a child of the jungle.
He growled his impatience, ‘Hurry up, child,’ he said to himself, and prowled back and forth. He spoke in
a low, slow deep rumble, almost from the back of his throat, which was barely audible.

It was a fine morning, cool and grey. Night still lingered on, not wanting to leave, with fresh dew clinging
like tears on the flower petals and sliding down blades of long grass. It had been a good monsoon, after
a long sweltering summer which had withered the trees and grass and dried out the ponds, and now the
jungle was a bright, exuberant green. Bougainvillae and frangipani had burst into colours like fireworks,
wild jasmine and tangerines scented the air, butterflies with wings patterned like cathedral windows
and mediaeval crests fluttered in their thousands. But in his worry, perythala didn’t notice these small
wonders around him.

The coal-black crows croaked harshly: ‘He’s waiting under the tree.’

The brown mynahs sang out in more melodious voices: ‘Be careful.’

The black koels, with long tails, always so proud, sang out in rising scales: ‘Tiger…tiger…tiger.’

High above, Keee, the speckled brown kite hawk, also keened, but not about perythala. He called down
to the jungle ‘Trouble … trouble … across the river … be warned.’ As he circled from his great height he
saw everything below with his sharp eyes.

Ambornath, which meant ‘where all life exists’ in the local language, was a large jungle of many, many
square miles, dense with trees, but with extensive patches of grassland that looked, from above, like
bald spots on a man’s head. Lakes too, like scattered silver coins, broke the tight pattern of trees. It
even had a biome, a dense hothouse with rare plants and herbs, near the eastern edge of the river. The
broad river bordered the jungle in the shape of a giant silvery ‘C’ and, where the open points of the ‘C’
didn’t close on the north, there was a low mountain with sheer sides blocking any entrance to the jungle
from that side. Crowning the mountain was the high, granite wall of an ancient fortress, which curled all
around, though here and there it had fallen down leaving gaps. Inside the fort was the ruin of a long
forgotten kingdom. So, in some ways, the jungle was almost an island and the only way to enter it was
to cross the river.The dazzlingly coloured peacocks, safe on a low branch called like night-watchmen:
‘Myuurr … myuurr, trouble, river trouble …’Tigers hated the peacocks. When they hunted, the peacocks
screamed out the loudest warnings, ‘myuurr … myuurr’, and every living creature scattered away to
hide. But, as perythala listened now, he heard also an undertone of panic in the calls. It wasn’t him
alone they called about. Something else was disturbing them, but at this moment he would not be
distracted from waiting for the child.While the tiger sat, it was almost invisible in the jungle. The play of
sunlight and shadows on its yellow coat with its irregular black stripes made it difficult to see. The
stripes were never complete, they broke off midway and sometimes there was a patch of yellow in the
middle of a black strip. It was as if the tiger knew how to play with light and shadow, to camouflage
itself. Only when a tiger moved could it be seen and even then, it would blend into the jungle’s
shadows, and seemingly vanish. perythala’s yellow eyes were slits and he had such powerful jaws he
could break a deer’s neck with one bite. He had muscles like steel under the rippling coat. He padded
through the undergrowth so lightly that hardly a leaf was disturbed under his paws where he
trod.perythala saw the child coming towards him, calling back and up to the birds, swinging the clay pot
in his hand. He wouldn’t have to move; he judged the child would have to pass within a foot of
him.Coolclear rounded a thick clump of wild bamboo—pale shiny yellow trunks with narrow green
leaves—when he saw the tiger blocking his path. He stopped whistling, stopped walking, stopped
swinging the clay pot. His tummy knotted and he broke into a sweat. His eyes, large as they were, grew
even larger, almost filling his whole face. This wasn’t a tiger he knew. Tigers had their own territory and
he knew around eight of them who roamed nearby, but he knew also that when they hunted they could
travel up to twenty kilometres in a day. This tiger was a stranger to this part of the jungle, and it was the
biggest tiger he had ever seen. It was a full grown male with a huge head, and from the tip of its nose to
the tip of its tail would have measured at twelve big paces, maybe fourteen. Nor could he read the
tiger’s mood. Was it hungry? Was it wounded? Was it angry? Its growls were low but continuous. Its
tail swished from side to side but its ears were not laid back. It wasn’t about to charge. Or was it
making up its mind to?

THE JUNGLE VILLAGE

The jungle was like a village for the children. They knew all their immediate neighbours and gossiped
with them. Their neighbours were not human beings, but the snakes, the leopards, the panthers, the
deer, the wild buffaloes, the elephants and bears and the countless insects and the birds, frogs and
lizards. They were their friends in the jungle and the children understood the languages of all these
creatures so they were never harmed but helped by them if they should be in need.When a
neighbouring tiger had her cubs, which she mothered and fed for two long years, she allowed the
children to play with them, when they met by the lake’s edge or on a trail in the jungle. Sometimes, if
she was in a regally condescending mood, she would even allow them to ride on her back as she padded
silently through the jungle. At night, they would be woken by her roars that shook the ground or, if she
were hunting, they would hear the monkeys, the deer and the peacocks screaming out their warnings
that a tiger was hungry. And when there was a sudden silence, the children knew the tiger had killed a
deer or a wild pig, and understood she had to survive too and feed herself and her cubs. But they would
cry a little for the one who had died.There were streets and lanes winding through the jungle which
were so familiar they could walk them blindfolded; there were places they ‘shopped’ for fruits—
mangoes, guavas, jackfruit, blackberries, papayas, wood apples, tamarind—depending on the season.
They harvested wild rice near the eastern border of the river, always leaving enough for it to grow back
again. They would climb the tall trees and gather the honey of wild bees. The river or the lakes were
their swimming pools, and any open space their playground. Then in the biome they plucked their
herbs—peppers and wild chillies, thyme and oregano, garlic and coriander. They also knew which
medicinal plants would cure their fevers and headaches, and which ones heal their bruises and cuts. But
sometimes none of the medicinal herbs could cure their fevers—especially if they had been very sickly
babies—and they would die. At other times, they fell off trees and broke their necks, some drowned,
others, when they played their dangerous games on the road across the river, were killed by
motorcars.The jungle had its laws and, being a part of this life, they understood and obeyed those laws
too.Coolclear knew not to show fear, because the tiger would pick up that scent and would lose all his
respect for him. In the jungle, between strangers, respect and courage were all-important and they had
to be established immediately. If he revealed any weakness at all, the other would either attack or turn
his back contemptuously and walk away.

COOLCLEAR HELPS perythala

The tiger took a step forward. Coolclear stood his ground, though he trembled. He was a slim, handsome
boy with pale yellowish skin, large brown eyes and shoulder-length, tousled black hair. He had been
born a sickly child, and believing he would die, his parents had abandoned him to the jungle. He was
probably fourteen summers old. The youngest was around one summer old. None of the children knew
their exact ages, because they never aged beyond fourteen and remained children always. Time and the
passing seasons were meaningless in their safe jungle world.Sadly, the children did not have parents.
They were all orphans, and not one of them could remember their natural parents. Every one of them
had a physical imperfection which was the reason they had been rejected by their parents. The older
children could only tell each child that they had been found in the jungle by the river or on the roadside.
Who had left them there? They could not tell. The children discussed this among themselves, when
they were older, and only guessed it was possibly their mother or their father. Each night, before they
slept, they would sit in a circle and make up stories about their mothers and fathers. Their mothers
were beautiful and loving, and their fathers, handsome and strong, also loved them very much. They
had died in mysterious ways—of disease, in battle. Each night they reinvented their mothers and
fathers, and every night, when they slept, they dreamt about them. However, in this enclosed world, the
children did not lack love as they all loved each other and always showed their love for each other.The
children knew, from their infrequent visits to the Crowded Place, that many of the Big People were very
poor, they had little to eat and, if a baby was not born healthy—if it had a deformed leg or was very
sickly, for instance—the poor parents would leave the baby in the jungle. The Big People prayed the
children of the jungle would find the baby and care for it, whatever its problems. They knew it would be
loved and it would be fed and live a beautiful life in the jungle with the other children.The children
spoke in their own language which no one outside their jungle world understood. Language was their
secret means of communication which is what all languages are. By speaking in their own languages
people keep their secrets from other people, who do not understand their language. But the children
were quick to understand the language of the Big People outside their jungle world, and, when they did
venture out, which was seldom, they would speak to the Big People in their language and not whisper
even one word of their own secret language. The children of the jungle named themselves. While they
were babies, the older children named them according to the sounds they made – ‘gurgle’, ‘whaaaw’,
‘hahahaha’. But when the babies grew older they changed their names to identify with what they saw
or heard or felt around them in the jungle. If a child loved a tree she would call herself ‘Tree’ or if she
was drawn to a flower she called herself ‘Flower’. But as there were many trees and many flowers in the
jungle, one child would call himself ‘Yellow Flower’ or else ‘Yellow Flower with Spots’ to distinguish him
from any other child also named after a flower. Other popular names they chose for themselves were
‘Bright Light’ or ‘Shiny Light’, meaning the sun or the moon in Big People’s language. If two of them
called themselves ‘Bright Light’, one of them would have to change to something else, like ‘Bright Light
Tree’. Coolclear had named himself after the river that flowed around their jungle and where they
swam, bathed and fished.They seldom wore any covering, except in winters, which were not very cold,
merely chilly. Then they would wear garments made from tree bark and leaves stitched together, in
layers, for additional warmth. Coolclear knew if the tiger charged, he could never outrun it. A tiger
could move as fast as sixty kilometers an hour but only for a short distance—two hundred metres at
most—which it could cover in a few seconds, but it was long enough to catch and kill anything.‘Good
morning,’ he said cheerfully in a soft growl, so the tiger understood him, and walked slowly towards the
tiger, not knowing what to expect. ‘How are you today?’The put out his hand very, very slowly, knowing
that the creatures in the jungle feared sudden moves. The tiger first cautiously sniffed his hand then
lowered his large head, as if to charge, and allowed Coolclear to touch him, and stroke the silky fur.

‘I’ve been waiting a long time for one of you,’ perythala growled.

‘Why? What’s happened?’ Coolclear asked.

‘My mate is in trouble. We need your help very urgently.’

‘What trouble?’ He hid his surprise that the tiger would worry about his mate. Tigers were loners. Once
they mated, the female tiger would have to raise her cubs all by herself and, since the cubs stayed with
her for two long years, learning how to hunt, she would have to hunt and feed them until they left her
to fend for themselves. It was a very hard life for her during those two years. She had to hide her cubs
from other predators, including tigers, leopards, jackals, dholes, and if she couldn’t kill a deer or a wild
pig, they would starve.

‘She must be very special if you’re worrying about her.’

‘Yes, she is. I have grown very fond of her.’

perythala rubbed his head against his hand, then he turned and padded a few feet away. ‘Well, come
on, we must hurry.’ He stopped, looked back, returned to the child’s side, then very gently took his hand
in his large powerful mouth and pulled him forward. He then released his hand, without leaving even a
tiny scratch, and walked away again. Coolclear put down the pot, and followed the tiger as he padded
quietly through the jungle.

He wasn’t at all surprised by the tiger’s demands from him. As children of the jungle they were woven
into the jungle life and its patterns and rhythms. In the eyes of the animals, snakes, birds and insects
that inhabited the jungle, the children were just another species who co-existed with them all. And
though the children did have human dexterity and intelligence, they were not dangerous, like the Big
People who entered the jungle. It was true that they could do some things that the other creatures
could not. But the children didn’t feel in any way superior to their neighbours and friends in the jungle.
They had other skills that the children envied and respected. They could see better, hear better, smell
better, climb trees better, hide better and, had a sixth sense, which the children still could not
understand—a mysterious telepathy through which neighbours and friends communicated without
making a sound. They all knew when a storm or an earthquake approached, long before the children
saw or felt them. Some of the children, the babies, too had this sense. Their jungle neighbours also had
a deep patience, which seemed to stem from an understanding of their lives that the children could not
share.‘How far away is your mate? Is she hurt?’ Coolclear spoke to the tiger, as they strolled through the
jungle as if they were companions strolling down a road together.

‘She’s not hurt yet. But she may be killed soon,’ perythala turned his head and growled his reply.‘Don’t
worry. We’ll work something out before that can happen.’ Coolclear looked up and around. ‘What’s
worrying the birds and monkeys?’‘I don’t know. At first they were warning calls about me, then they
changed. They’re worried about something outside the jungle.’‘Wait,’ Coolclear said and tapped the
trunk of a towering tamarind tree. ‘What is disturbing the birds?’ he asked the tamarind. He spoke in a
soft whispery tone like a breeze caressing the leaves.‘Something beyond the river,’ the tamarind replied
in same whispery voice. ‘Nasty human animals—with my apologies to you, of course—are gathering.
We’ll learn soon enough.’The news worried Coolclear but he didn’t pass it on to the tiger, who didn’t
understand tree language. perythala quickened his pace and Coolclear had to trot to keep up. While the
tiger slid like a quick stream of water through a channel, Coolclear had to duck and weave to avoid the
tangle of branches and bushes.The jungle grew warmer and more humid and Coolclear was sweating
and panting hard, his tummy aching. He now ran behind the tiger, who was moving at a fast trot. He
hoped it wouldn’t run. The tiger could be leading him to the far end of this huge jungle.

‘What are you called?’

‘I’m known as perythala.’ He turned to the child with concern. ‘Are you alright?’

‘I’m fine,’ Coolclear lied and forced a smile. ‘I just can’t move as fast as you do. How’s the hunting?’‘Not
bad. I killed three days ago, a sambar, too old to run. But it is hard for us with everyone screaming out
warnings when we’re hunting. I mean, we don’t roar warnings when a hawk is hunting or a leopard or a
snake. We mind our own business. But in the jungle everyone minds our business.’‘I know what you
mean. We can’t go anywhere or do anything without a monkey or a snake or a mongoose hurrying to
tell the other children what we’re doing. They have nothing better to do than keep an eye on
everyone.’The jungle grew denser and even perythala had to slow down. Vines, bushes, bamboo clumps
pressed against each other. The trees here grew taller and crooked, as they reached up for the sun’s
light, and their interwoven branches turned the daylight into a dark, dank evening light.perythala
stopped finally and growled. From somewhere in the tangled undergrowth, Coolclear heard an
answering growl, followed by a whimper.

THE CAGE
perythala took a few steps forward. Coolclear followed, afraid of what he would find. He prayed it would
not be a tiger with its foot caught in a steel trap, agonisingly wounded. There was little he could do for
it. In the jungle he had learned that the wounded died of their wounds.Animals were often wounded by
people from the Crowded Place. They crept into the jungle to kill tigers and other animals for their
beautiful coats and the elephants for their long curved teeth. The children did not understand why the
people in the Crowded Place killed for such things. They did not eat what they killed but only stole away
the coats and the long teeth, leaving the dead carcass to rot in the jungle. Did they eat the skins and the
long teeth when they returned to their Crowded Place? Why else would they kill? They talked about it
often, in puzzlement.The children always wept when they came across such deaths. In the jungle death
usually fed the one who caused it. Tigers and others did not kill for pleasure but to stay alive. If a child
saw a person from the Crowded Place creeping through the jungle with a long stick which made a
terrible noise and brought death to whatever it pointed at, the child would shout and scream and all the
animals would bolt.The person from the Crowded Place could never find the child who had made the
noise, no matter how hard he searched, even when the child had not moved far.The people from the
Crowded Place believed the children were ghosts who haunted the jungle—the abandoned babies who
had died, and whose spirits now roamed and protected the animals. A few times they had come with
their long sticks in search of the children and never found them, though the children were watching
their every move.Sometimes the children, like monkeys, used trails high above the ground, walking
along branches near the sky. At other times they slipped through the jungle on the ground, swift and
silent as any tiger or panther on the hunt. But sadly, they could not be everywhere, protecting their
neighbours from the dangerous people of the Crowded Place. The jungle was too huge. Coolclear didn’t
have the sharp eyesight of his companion, and peered through the tangle of undergrowth.Then he saw
it. It was a cage, cleverly camouflaged with branches, leaves and vines. Inside the cage was another
tiger, somewhat smaller. Coolclear knew it was his perythala’s mate. She had been trapped in the cage.
The wooden bars had been chewed by both perythala and his mate, he saw the gouge marks of their
teeth. And then there were the slash marks of their claws as they raged and attacked the bars. But the
cage hadn’t broken and the mate remained trapped. She whined sadly when she saw perythala, and
pressed her face against the bars. He licked her face to comfort her.‘I have a child of the jungle to help
us,’ perythala told her. ‘He’ll know how to free you.’Coolclear saw what had happened. A bait of raw
meat had been placed in the cage and when the tiger, being a very curious cat, had entered the cage to
investigate, she had stepped on a lever which had brought the gate down and trapped her inside.‘Oh
you are a silly thing,’ he scolded her. He put his paw through the bar and caressed her head.‘I was
hungry,’ she whined back at him, eyes pleading for help. ‘I hadn’t eaten for three nights and I couldn’t
smell the man’s scent. I could only smell the meat. Please help me.’

‘Of course I will."

Coolclear looked up and saw the hemp rope which had held the gate poised above the opening. He
knew there was little time. The person who had built the cage would soon return to see what he had
caught. Coolclear first tried to lift the gate back up. It was very heavy and though he tried as hard as he
could, he couldn’t get a firm grip on the bars. His hands kept sliding up. The tigers growled in
frustration.Coolclear climbed to the top of the cage now. The bars were framed and he caught hold of
the frame, braced his legs and pulled up with all his strength. The gate lifted slowly, inch by inch by inch.
A pain shot through his tummy and he nearly cried out but he couldn’t give up. He had to free the
trapped tiger. Slowly, slowly, changing his grip and using his knee to prop up the frame, he managed to
open the gate by about a foot.He looked down. ‘Go, go quickly,’ he panted down to the trapped
tiger.She crouched down low and wriggled through the narrow opening, her belly scraping the bottom
of the threshold. When she was clear and free Coolclear let go and the gate slid back down with a thud.
He sat on top of the cage for a long moment, clutching at his belly. Below him the tigers licked each
other, rubbed their heads against each other. ‘Go, go quickly,’ he told them, ‘before the man animal
returns.’ But they looked up, waiting for him to come down, even though their tails flicked nervously
and their pointed ears twitched, listening for someone’s approach. He climbed down and stood between
them. They each licked his hand, and then the sides of his face. He felt as if the skin was being scraped
off, because their tongues were coarse and hard as gravel, though they were being very gentle. ‘Thank
you,’ they said in unison. ‘Go,’ he said. ‘If you need any help, call me,’ perythala growled. They didn’t
need to be told again. They slid quickly and silently into the shadows and became a part of them,
vanishing silently into the jungle.Coolclear too moved away, holding onto his side. He knew the person
would return and realise that one of the children had freed the trapped animal. He would see the claw
and teeth marks inside and outside his cage. If he found Coolclear nearby he would probably kill him in
rage. Coolclear dragged himself as far as he could go but the pain was unbearable. When he thought he
was a safe enough distance away from the cage, he saw the hollow under a Flame of the Jungle tree,
and slid down into it. He curled up tight as a ball to stifle the pain in his stomach. He had hurt himself
the day before when he’d been hit by a motor car. The tigers, who had not moved far away, but had
padded silently after him, now lay down, hidden in the undergrowth, to make sure no harm befell
Coolclear. ‘We must protect him,’ the tiger said to his mate.

THE GLADE

When Coolclear didn’t return with the water, Yellow Rose worried that something had happened to him.
It had been his turn to fetch water from the lake. She searched around the Glade. There were twenty-
nine children and they were busy with their tasks. The youngest ones played hide and seek or
gambolled with the jackal’s cubs or with a baby monkey or snake. A few of the older children practised
archery or the sling-shot. They didn’t use these weapons to kill anything, only for the competitions they
had amongst themselves, like racing, swimming and tree-climbing. The Glade was a large, almost
perfect, circle, surrounded by trees so close together that only a child could slip through between the
massive trunks. There were all kinds of trees forming the circle—neem, raintrees, mango, tamarind,
teak and mahogany. The Glade was spacious and cool. The trees’ branches high above also formed a
perfect circle so that the sun could only light the Glade two hours before noon and two hours after
noon. At other times of the day the sun’s light glowed through the thick branches and leaves to give the
Glade a soft, warm light. It was more than enough to see by as the children went about their daily
chores. At night, the moon shone through the circle only at certain times while it lit the Glade with its
cool, silvered light. But by then, the children were all fast asleep.In the very centre of the Glade, like the
axle of a large wheel, was a pillar. It was about the height and thickness of a child and made out of a
cool, green-gold stone that shone with an inner light. Even in the darkest midnight, if they woke, they
could turn and see the stone glowing in their midst. It had always been at the centre of this Glade and it
seemed to be protected by the circle of trees. They called it Latrommi. They wondered at times whether
the trees grew first or whether they grew after Latrommi rooted itself in the earth. It wasn’t rooted very
firmly; if they joined together they could rock it back and forth. When they caressed it, it felt like
nothing they had touched before, it felt like water yet it was firm as metal, soft as a flower yet rigid as
stone, and it gave off a sweet smell, like nothing they had smelt before. They could not chip away any
part of it or even mark it, yet on some mornings they found chips, the size of small pebbles, lying on the
ground beside it. But Latrommi looked unmarked, and they wondered where the chips had come from.
Each time a baby came into their midst, they would find a chip at the foot of Latrommi. At some point in
time, the children who lived in the Glade began the custom of enclosing the chip in a leaf and tying that,
with vines, to their arm or to hang it around their necks. Every child in the Glade wore the chip. It may
have looked like a pretty decoration to those they metin the Crowded Place, but the children knew the
secrets of these chips. ‘Good morning, Yellow Rose,’ Yellow Rose heard Latrommi’s soft, soothing
musical voice in her mind. ‘Have you slept well?’ ‘Very well,’ Yellow Rose replied mentally. ‘It’s another
beautiful day.’ ‘Yes it is. But something is disturbing our jungle. You must be careful until we know what
that is. Tell me, when you discover what that is, though I believe I know the cause already.’ ‘I will,
Latrommi.’ The Glade was nestled at the bottom of the low mountain. The mountainside rose almost
straight up without a foothold. The entrance to the fortress was, half a day’s walk around the base of
the mountain. On the other side was a narrow zigzag of steps, that led up to the fortress. That was
another half a day’s climbing. The gates still stood wide open, and shallow steps led up to the very top.
Once a year, the children took a holiday, and they would all make the excursion, carrying water and
baskets of fruit for their picnic in the fort. This was so high up that they saw eye-to-eye with eagles and
kites as they endlessly circled the sky. There was little left of the fortress except the ruins of palaces,
temples and elephant and horse stables, and the children would play among them. The palaces were
beautiful. One of them had curved, pink walls, and was set in a lake. It looked like a ship, and when the
wind ruffled the waters it looked as if it was sailing away. And the temple, which still stood quite intact,
had polished white floors and polished pink walls. At the far end was a large niche carved into the stone
and in the centre was a pedestal. But nothing stood on it. The children mostly played in the palace. Each
of them took turns to sit on the raised platform at one end of the great hall, and give each of the others
a gift—a fruit or even a pebble. No one knew what had happened to the kingdom but they would make
up stories about kings and queens and princesses, as if they had once lived in the fortress. Over the
years of exploring the fortress, they knew every inch and every secret passage and secret chamber in it.
The passages and chambers were part of a bewildering maze far below the palace, and those who
entered it could wander forever trying to find the exit. The children had stumbled over many skeletons
of men who had tried to decipher the maze and penetrate the fortress. The Glade and the jungle were
generous providers. At some point in the past, they didn’t know when, the children had learned to cook
too. They used the herbs they found in the jungle to make tasty vegetable stews and plantain bread.
They baked fish, wrapped in leaves, in pits. They took turns to cook. Some were good at it, others were
not, but none of them complained. They knew how precious food was. In some years, when the rains
failed, they would have little to eat. This day Hiss was the cook and the children groaned. He wasn’t a
good one, he forgot what he was doing and they would havea concoction of rice and bananas, with
bitter limes instead of honey. ‘Where’s wat …?’ he shouted. ‘How can I cook … out the wat …? Where’s
Coolcl …?’ Hiss took his name from the snakes that lived in the tall grass and whom, as a baby, he played
with. Because of his innocence the yellow and black snakes didn’t bite him, though they were kraits, the
most poisonous of all snakes. He loved their colours and named himself after them when he could
speak. Sort of speak. He had a problem in the top of his mouth and couldn’t pronounce all the words. It
was difficult to understand what he was saying. He also remained small and thin, he didn’t seem to grow
at all, and he would either run around singing at the top of his voice or sit very quietly, crying. They
didn’t know why he sang or why he cried. Nor did he. He said they both just happened and it could have
been because he remembered some things that made him happy or sad but he couldn’t tell what those
things were. Yellow Rose was a pretty girl with a perfect oval face and blue eyes, who wore her pale
yellow hair in plaits and walked with a limp. The children had found her as a baby in the wreckage of a
small plane that had crashed at the edge of the jungle. They had watched it flying lower and lower,
smoke trailing from its engines, and then heard it crash. When they had run to it, they had found that
the six white Big People in it had all died. The plane was starting to burnwhen they heard the baby’s cry
and found her in the back of the plane, her left leg twisted badly. They had carried her out just moments
before the plane exploded, sending up flames and thick black smoke. The baby cried in pain and they fed
her with a medicinal plant that made her sleep, and then placed a splint on the broken leg. But they
weren’t doctors and, as the baby grew, the left leg remained twisted. When she was older they told her
the story and so she knew her parents must have been two of the people who died in the crash. The
charred remains of the small plane were now covered with vines and vegetation and there were no
remains of the Big People who had been consumed by the fire. Sometimes, she would visit the wreckage
and wonder, and dream, about her mother and father. Yellow Rose wasn’t the only child who looked
different from most of the other children. It was a few days later that they found Grey, a baby with
brown hair and grey eyes as pale as Yellow Rose’s, who had only one arm. The villagers had found the
baby in a car accident and brought her back but as none of them wanted a girl baby, they had left her by
the river in the hope that the children would find it and care for it. The children heard about abandoned
babies from the birds or a passing deer. Sometimes, the trees would whisper to them ‘baby…baby’ and
an older child would follow the whisper trail and discover the baby.Yellow Rose could have been the
same age as Coolclear but behaved older. Like all girls, she seemed to have a deeper knowledge of life
than boys of the same age. She was distinctly worried about what could have happened to Coolclear.
She followed their usual meandering pathways to the river and stopped when she saw the clay pot. It
was empty, which meant Coolclear hadn’t been to the river at all. Something had prevented him from
reaching it. She circled around, looking for signs, and saw where a large animal had waited for Coolclear.
Here the leaves and the grass were flattened, as if it had waited for some time. Stuck to a thorny twig
was a knot of yellow hair and she knew it was a tiger which had waited. There was no sign of any
disturbance in the bushes and grass, it hadn’t attacked Coolclear, so Yellow Rose knew Coolclear had
gone somewhere with the tiger. She began to follow the trail left by Coolclear—broken twigs, flattened
leaves, his toe marks in the soft soil. He had begun to run. He had not been chased by the tiger. If he
had been he wouldn’t have survived. She would have seen the debris of violence, flattened bushes,
blood, his body too. No, he had been running after the tiger. It had led him somewhere. She had been so
preoccupied with worry over Coolclear that she hadn’t paid attention to the jungle. Now, following his
trail slowly, she relaxed and began to listen to the jungle. She stopped and looked all around her. The
jungle was disturbed.
MEETING THE CHIEF

It was always noisy in the jungle – birds, insects, monkeys chattering overhead, the rustle of small
things moving in the undergrowth. Today, remembering her conversation with Latrommi, she noticed
another pattern to the jungle sounds. An agitation, a worry was seeping through the jungle and
communicated with her. A herd of chital, standing in a clearing, watched her warily, skittering away,
though they knew she was a child of the jungle. She thought this very unusual. Normally, she would
have threaded her way through them, stroking one or two and they would nuzzle her back, but now
they were frightened. They stamped their hooves, their ears raised, their heads turning this way and
that. They shied away from her in distrust. ‘What is it?’ she asked the Poineer. It stood farthest from the
herd and kept a look out for danger. When it stamped its hoof, depending on how hard or with what
rhythm, it could be a signal for water, to move onto new grazing grounds, to be cautious or it could be
the signal for the herd to bolt and escape a hunting tiger or leopard or a man animal. ‘Something bad is
happening,’ the Poineer spoke in a whisper, very quickly, nervously, with a slight shrill. ‘Something is
going to attack our jungle, we can feel the evil approaching. Keee said it is coming from the south,
beyond the river.’ It could be a person with a long killing stick, she thought. Yet when she looked up, the
monkeys too were chattering in subdued anxiety. They were not giving out their warning calls which
sounded like someone blowing into a hollow clay pot very loudly. OOOmmmphh, OOOmmphh. The
jungle was always a place full of gossip. Birds gossiped with each other and if she listened carefully she
knew what was happening in their world. So did monkeys, the deer, tigers, and elephants gossiped and
chatted like neighbours over a fence. The monkeys and birds would tell each other which tree had the
ripest, juiciest fruit—mango, papaya, guavas, black berries, plantains. The deer, the wild pigs where the
grass was green and long and tasty. The elephants would rumble, sending messages through their
tummies, where the leaves and tasty shoots were. They gossiped too about other things – it was getting
too hot or too cold, the water wasn’t enough, when the tiger or the panther were hunting, when they
had killed and it was safe again. Like all gossip and rumour that buzzed through the jungle, the chital’s
fears could be just exaggeration. She listened. This wasn’t gossip, it was panic. Maybe Poineer was not
exaggerating. She felt the fear rippling through the trees. She lifted her head to sniff the air. During
very, very hot summers, fires would sweep through the edges of the jungle and the animals, birds and
insects and snakes would flee deeper into the jungle to escape the orange monster that ate up the trees
and the bushes. But she couldn’t smell smoke or wood burning, though she moved her head from side
to catch the tendrils of breeze bringing in odours from distant places. No, they weren’t panicking about
a fire, they would have told her that. Whatever it was, they could not understand themselves. But it
was certainly some kind of threat to their jungle world, and now it worried her too. Whatever affected
the jungle, affected the children. The chattering and screams of the monkey tribe above her head grew
louder. There were fifteen in this tribe of langurs, along with three new little ones who clung to their
mother’s chest. They had beautiful silver coats and black faces and long silvery tails. They were coming
lower, and stopped at the last branch over her head. Their leader jumped down to the ground. He was a
mangy fellow, his coat was patchy and scarred, the medals of the many fights he had won. One day he
would lose to a younger male and would die alone in the jungle. Yellow Rose knew him to be a
cantankerous old fellow. They called him, with some respect, Chief Korung. He now stood on his hind
legs and in the usual greeting of his species, drew her into a strong hug. Then he took her hand, pulling
her away from the trail she had been following. ‘You must come with me’ he said in a swift
chatterchatter. ‘There’s danger.’‘No,’ she chatterchattered back at him. ‘I’m looking for another child,
Coolclear. You must know where he is.’ ‘He went with a huge tiger,’ the chief said and cackled, ‘Maybe it
ate him.’ ‘A tiger wouldn’t do that,’ she said crossly. ‘You just spread rumours.’ The jungle was full of
watching eyes, nothing moved in the jungle without its movement being noticed. This was the way they
survived, because they never knew when the movement would become dangerous. Chief Korung would
have seen where Coolclear had gone. He tugged her hand again and chattered pleadingly. ‘You have to
see and tell us what to do. We are all very frightened. Come with me.’ ‘I must find Coolclear first,’ she
told him. ‘When we do then I’ll come with you.’

SECRETS REVEALED

‘How did you hear about the children?’ Bhask asked Varang, the next morning. He knew very little
about this stranger who had visited him in Delhi a few days back, along with her two servants. Bhask
was very, very rich and powerful. He knew all the politicians, all the gangsters and all the bureaucrats
and paid them well to look after him. He cut down jungles and sold the timber for a very high price and
he was proud of how many jungles he had destroyed, leaving the land to turn into desert. The wind
would descend and blow away the layers of exposed earth, wearing away the land so that it became
useless. Sometimes, he turned the land into a housing estate or a factory site, at other times a shopping
mall. Whatever he chose to do, Bhask only became richer, and that was his only concern. Varang had
wanted his help to invade the jungle, clear the trees, destroy the animals, birds, insects and everything
that lived in the jungle. When he had asked her why, Varang had told him that there were huge deposits
of uranium beneath the jungle. She wanted the jungle cleared so she could survey the deposit. She knew
it was hidden deep in the jungle and would be impossible to find as long as there was such a vast jungle
area to search. ‘Like a needle in a haystack,’ she had told Bhask, ‘get rid of the hay and I’ll find the
deposits.’ Once her company had mined the precious metal, she would share the profits with Bhask. It
was a very sweet business deal for Bhask. He would be paid by Varang to clear the jungle and all the
timber he harvested was his. The cleared land not used for the mining operation would also be his. He
could plant a thousand acres of corn—for biofuel, not for food. And he would have a share of the mining
profits, running into millions of dollars. Of course, he didn’t tell Varang that when they found this
deposit he’d grab it all for himself. He wouldn’t spend even any of his own money, apart from the
bribes he’d had to pay local politicians and the corrupt state government officials, like forest officers, for
their permission to cut down the jungle. The profit would more than compensate. ‘I was surfing and saw
a story on a television cable network,’ Varang said. ‘It was about some children who lived in a jungle.’
She told him the story as she had heard it on television. There were two couples interviewed on the
programme, one English, the other French, old friends. They looked in their mid-50s, and kindly people.
They had been driving on the road, having just passed the ruined fortress, alongside the river beneath a
dense canopy of trees when suddenly their car hit a child. They didn’t know where he had come from.
One moment the road had been empty, the next a child lay on the road, blood all over his face and
body. They had stopped in panic and fear, jumped out of the car and rushed to the fallen child. He was a
small boy and looked dead. But before they could do anything about twenty children, screaming in
anguish, weeping, had surrounded them and the boy. A white, blonde girl with a limp had thrown
herself across the boy, crying her eyes out. The other children surrounded the car and said the couples
had to remain there until their parents came and that it would be many, many hours. What surprised
the couple first was that the children spoke fluent English. And then when the French couple whispered
to each other, the children switched to flawless French. But the couples could not understand a word
the children spoke amongst themselves. A one-armed boy even took the keys out of the ignition. Now
the couples were running late to catch their flight home. If they missed it there would be a week’s wait
for the next flight. They just didn’t know what to do. They couldn’t move, hemmed in as they were by
the children. Then the boy with one arm spoke. If they paid to compensate the poor parents, they would
allow the couples to go. So they paid the children all the cash they had on them. The car keys were
returned to them and as they drove away they saw the children pick up the dead boy and carry him into
the jungle. ‘This was also a phone-in programme,’ Varang continued with her tale. ‘And a German man
called in. He had been driving along the same road and had hit a girl child. And the same thing had
happened. Children came out of the jungle, screaming and crying. He paid all he had to the other
children and was allowed to drive away. What surprised him was that the children spoke fluent German
with him.’ ‘So … they’re linguists,’ Bhask said, though it puzzled him too. How could ignorant children in
a jungle speak so many languages? ‘Maybe this white girl taught them those languages.’ Varang smiled
but said nothing. That was how she knew that Latrommi was hidden in this jungle with the children. One
of its minor powers was to give the children this gift of tongues.‘Where do these children come from?
The moon?’ Bhask laughed. ‘I was told they’re unwanted babies who are abandoned by their parents by
the river or the road,’ Varang said. ‘When will you start work? It must be soon. I don’t have time to
waste.’ ‘Day after tomorrow.’ It wasn’t soon enough for her. She turned away and walked up the slope
with long strides to her RV which was parked up the slope from the river. She walked with her head
down, hands clasped tightly behind her back which meant she was thinking very hard and plotting her
strategy. Kal and Sasa, her servants, scuttled ahead of her to open the door. The man, Kal, was tall and
slim as a bamboo pole with feathery arms and legs and tousled long hair; Sasa, the woman, reached
Kal’s knees; squat and powerful, she walked with a roll. They were married to each other, and were both
fawning creatures. Wanting to be Varang’s favourite, they often told tales on each other to gain her
favour. However, they were both totally loyal to her, if only because they knew her power. Now they
bickered and came to blows over which one would have the privilege of opening the door for her, and,
because Varang was so deep in thought, she wasn’t even aware of the scuffle. Sasa won by kicking Kal in
the shins, and sprang to open the door just as Varang stepped up to it. It was pitch dark inside. ‘Lights,’
Varang spoke, and the lights came on. It was the most expensive and luxurious RV on the market.
Varang enjoyed wallowing in opulence. As she had expected to spend many days in this wilderness, she
had had it flown over by a transport plane to Delhi, and then driven it down to Magalapur. She had also
paid the electricity department of the State a handsome bribe to hook her up to the power cable that
ran alongside the road nearly a kilometre away. It had every modern gadget—a refrigerator, a
microwave, a giant flat-screen television set, a DVD player and a sleek audio system. It also had two
rooms and a bathroom. In the bedroom was a large double bed with the softest mattress money could
buy, and fine cotton sheets, and plump goose-down pillows. In the front room were a spacious sitting
area and a glittering kitchenette and a dining table. Sasa was the cook, a 3-star chef. Varang enjoyed her
food very much, as long as they were not calorific. She loved light salads, a little blackened cat fish or a
slice of lamb in an almond sauce. It depended on her moods and Sasa would have to cook as fast as she
could in case Varang changed her mind. Which she often did. ‘Bring me the baby,’ she said. Sasa
scuttled into the bedroom and proudly carried in the baby. It was chubby, with smooth coppery skin,
and looked around eight months old. It was asleep, despite its rough handling by Sasa, and would
remain sleeping until Varang woke it. She removed a small amulet from a box and hung it around the
baby’s neck, and then wrapped the baby in a shawl. ‘Take the baby across the river and leave it on the
edge of the jungle, hidden under a bush,’ she said, handing the baby back. ‘But not too near the water; I
don’t want it to drown.’ ‘How do we cross the river?’ Kal asked. ‘It’s full of crocodiles.’ ‘Get a boat, you
stupid idiot,’ Varang said, not with any anger. She was used to their stupidity. ‘But suppose a wild beast
gobbles it up?’ Sasa said. ‘It won’t. Now get out and do what I tell you.’ Varang knew that once she
found where the children lived, she would find Latrommi.

FINDING COOLCLEAR

Chief Korung considered Yellow Rose’s request, wise old eyes blinking up at her, his brow furrowed with
thought. He looked up towards his tribe, waiting silently on the branches. His first duty was to protect
and lead them. If there was danger he would take them deeper and deeper into the jungle. He worried
that he was wasting time with this child of the jungle. She looked small and frailer than him, and with
that short, weak leg, stood crookedly. What could she do to save them? ‘Oh, alright, but hurry,’ he
sighed like the old man that he was and turning, moved along the trail, loping on all fours. He moved
cautiously, ready to leap up any moment, as he could also smell the tiger on the trail. ‘I can smell the
bad smell of the tiger,’ he complained. ‘I hope he won’t kill me and eat me up.’ ‘I won’t let him,’ she
said. ‘Besides, you’d be too stringy and tough for the tiger. Now hurry.’ High above their heads, his tribe
followed, swinging from tree to tree. When she looked up she caught glimpses of their flying shadows
silhouetted against the sunlight filtering down through the foliage. They made scarcely a sound, except
for the occasional rustle of leaves as they leapt from one branch to the next. Yellow Rose hurried after
him, now limping as fast as she could as she sensed his urgency. Normally, when the children moved
through the jungle they would move with the same caution as the animals, leaving scarcely any trail of
their passing. She read the ground. Coolclear’s footprints were deeper now, as he had run faster to
follow the tiger. She saw, too, the pug marks which were sometimes stepped on by Coolclear, smudging
them. Then they had apparently slowed down, and moved more cautiously. The Chief gave a high-
pitched scream of fright, startling her too, and leapt up to grab a branch and swing himself up and out of
harm’s way. ‘See, I told you he was waiting for me,’ he screamed down at her. ‘There are two of them, I
would have been torn to pieces.’ Then he scolded the tigers. ‘I was just helping this child and you
frightened me very badly. I don’t know why I should be so kind.’ ‘We don’t care about you,’ perythala
growled. ‘You’d taste of strings.’ It took only a moment longer for Yellow Rose to smell them too—a
strong cat smell, musky and bitter. But she couldn’t see them. They were hidden in the undergrowth and
she stopped, wondering and worrying why they were waiting. She heard a soft rustle to her right and
saw those yellow eyes first, glaring at her. Then another rustle and another pair of eyes. The first pair
belonged to a huge tiger, a full grown male, magnificent and powerful. ‘Where’s my friend?’ She asked.
‘He’s hurt and he’s hiding under a tree,’ he growled, and drew back. When she didn’t follow, he re-
appeared, growled louder, ‘Well, come on if you want to help him.’ She followed them both through the
dense undergrowth. They stopped by a Flame of the Jungle and lowered themselves to the ground, both
heads pointing towards the hollow beneath. It was a huge, widespread tree, with flowers that were a
fiery red. When they were in full flower it looked, from afar, as if the jungle was on fire. ‘He’s down
there.’ ‘Coolclear,’ she called. ‘I’m here,’ his voice was shivery with pain, and she scurried down the
hollow. He was still curled into a ball.Then they heard the warning calls of the monkeys first—booom,
booom—and then the calls of the peacocks—myuur, myuur—followed by the noise of the chital
stamping the earth, and the thunder of their hooves as they ran away. The tigers growled their anxiety.
‘The man animal with the long stick is coming, we must hide. You must hide too. Goodbye.’ They
vanished into the jungle, moving quickly and silently. They all knew the man was prowling, approaching
closer and closer, to check on what his cage had caught. Coolclear and Yellow Rose burrowed deeper
into the hollow, holding each other tight. They heard him stamping around and then, when he saw that
someone had opened his cage and freed the tiger, he began to curse out aloud. He knew only a child of
the jungle could have opened the cage and he shouted: ‘I know you can hear me, I’m going to kill you, I
swear.’

THE ACCIDENT

His angry steps came closer and closer. When they peeped out of their hiding place they saw him
standing just a few feet away, his back to the hollow. In his right hand he carried the long stick that
killed. He pointed it this way then that, and then pointed it up to the trees. He kept talking to himself:
‘I’ll kill those children, break their bones, throw them on a fire, roast them alive, feed them to vultures.’
But of course he knew he’d never find them, and muttered a prayer, because he thought they were
ghosts and not real children. He moved out of sight and they heard his footsteps fading away into the
jungle but still they didn’t move. They knew he could be faking his departure, hoping something or
someone would show themselves and he would point the long stick and kill them. ‘Why didn’t you tell
me it hurt so badly?’ Yellow Rose scolded in a whisper. ‘Where is the pain?’ He pointed to the right side
of his belly button. He had hurt himself when he had fallen in front of that car. * * * ‘It’s coming,’ Blue
Stone had whispered up to him. Coolclear had been straddling the branch and crouching, like a monkey,
with a firm grip on it. Hanging from a branch just above his head was a clay pot. He quickly dipped his
hand into it. His hand came out dripping red liquid, the colour of blood, but it was only the jungle mud,
mixed with water. He smeared the liquid over his face and around his ears, then added an artistic
flourish by smearing some more across his bare chest. The liquid dripped past his eyes, blurring his
vision for a moment, but he didn’t wipe it away, as it would leave a trace of his hand. Now he too could
hear the motorcar climbing the hill. It was a powerful car, moving fairly fast, unlike the wheezing lorries
that also passed the jungle on this road leading to the Crowded Place a few miles away. Coolclear
tensed, waiting for Blue Stone to give the signal, as he could not see the car through the thick foliage
surrounding him. The branch was just past a sharp curve so the car would have to slow down further, if
it didn’t want to topple into the deep gorge on the other side of the jungle. The children were also
tense, looking up the road. Coolclear didn’t respond to Yellow Rose’s smile but watched Blue Stone
intently, waiting for the signal. Blue Stone was an expert at this and if Coolclear should miss the signal he
could jump to his death. Blue Stone lifted his one hand; he wasn’t looking at Coolclear but up the road.
The car was shattering the jungle’s silence, unsettling the singing birds, who complained bitterly about
the intrusion to the children, and swiftly flew away from the sound. The hum of insects also faded away,
drowned by the noise. Coolclear now stealthily dangled his legs half-way down so they would not been
seen by the car’s driver through the leaves. He still held on tightly. He began to swing gently to get the
momentum of his fall just right. This was a dangerous trick the children had learned and passed on down
through time. Despite their self sufficiency in the jungle, the children needed money, which didn’t grow
on trees. They needed the money for small things like salt, sewing thread and needles and, especially,
milk powder for the babies they raised. They had tried begging in the Crowded Place and earned a few
coins, but it was a humiliating experience. With this trick, when it worked, they could make much more
money. They only took what they needed. Blue Stone jerked his hand down, even as the car’s hood
came into view. Coolclear let go off the branch, knowing what he had to do and prayed he would do it
exactly right, as he had done before. It would look, at the moment of impact, as if he had come off the
roadside and not from above the car. But the car surprised him, as it accelerated more than Blue Stone
had calculated. He hit the hood with his feet first, rolled against the windscreen, catching a micro-
second glimpse of faces not yet registering what had happened, then he rolled off the car on the other
side. And kept rolling, the car’s speed knocking the breath out of him and the impact against the
windscreen hurting inside him. He lay very still on the dusty roadside, scarcely breathing. The car had
stopped and he heard the passengers scrambling out. They talked among themselves with worry and
concern in their voices and, though he couldn’t have said how he knew, he understood every word of
their swift Italian. Blue Stone too spoke in Italian, telling them they had killed his friend. The other
children crowded around, weeping and talking Italian, blaming the reckless driver. He sensed, rather
than saw, Yellow Rose, kneeling beside him, crying her heart out. He heard Blue Stone telling them they
would have to wait for his parents to come, it would take hours, before they could leave. Coolclear
imagined the children surrounding the car, one would have taken the keys. Then he heard the panic in
the passengers—they couldn’t wait, they had a plane to catch. They paid out the money. He heard the
car start, felt himself lifted by the other children and then passed out from the pain. * * * They both
remembered Bright Light. * * * She had laughed and waved to them, all ready to swing down and across
the approaching car to cause the ‘accident’. She was nimble and light, and imagined herself floating past
it, letting it just touch her before she tumbled out of harm’s way. She reached up and dipped her hand
in the clay pot and liberally covered her face and chest with ‘blood’. She too heard the sharp whistle
from the hilltop and swung down from the branch, holding it still but gathering momentum. She could
see Blue Stone lift his arm, and she heard the car approaching the curve. It moved slowly, and sounded
like an old car which had difficult breathing. The yellow headlights crept along the road beneath her, far
ahead of the machine and for a moment she took her eyes off Blue Stone. In the confusion of light and
shadow, she thought she saw Blue Stone’s hand drop. Sheswung out onto the road a moment too early
and the car’s hood hit her and sent her tumbling and tumbling through the air. She fell into tall grass
some distance away, and the car slowed. The children ran out of the grass, expecting the car to stop.
They saw the arm of a man sticking out of the rear passenger seat window. On his wrist was a shining
gold band and on his fingers many more smaller ones. They heard him shout ‘Go on, go, we only hit a
stupid monkey. I’m late.’ Then the driver accelerated, the engine roared, and the car sped down the
road. The children stopped. It happened sometimes, though not often. They ran now to where Bright
Light lay. She was curled up tightly as a ball and they believed she was hurt badly. ‘She went too early,’
Blue Stone said bleakly, crying. ‘I hadn’t dropped my hand, she swung in front of it, instead of on top of
it.’ ‘I know,’ Coolclear whispered, ‘it’s not your fault.’ They knelt by Bright Light. She was so very still and
her eyes were closed as if she’d fallen asleep. They shook her very gently but she didn’t waken at their
touch. Blue Stone placed his head against her chest. He couldn’t feel or hear her small heart beating. It
was still and silent. ‘She’s gone far away and cannot speak to us,’ they all said sadly and cried for the
sister whom they had all loved. They knew such things happened. If it hadn’t been the car, it could have
been something else—a fall or a sickness—and they accepted such things as the laws of the jungle
where creatures, flowers, trees went away and returned as tiny forms which grew again. Bright Light
would return one day. They had come prepared. Bent Grass, a boy who had been born without one leg,
hopped away to fetch the stretcher. It was made of two bamboo poles with plaited fronds holding them
together. The children carefully lifted Bright Light onto the stretcher. Silver Light, a girl with a harelip,
cried the most as she and Bright Light shared the same treehouse. Silver Light had found Bright Light as
a baby and had cared for her. Gently, she wiped away the blood. The real blood and the mud blood they
used had mingled and stained Bright Light’s lovely face. As they carried her back to the Glade, Hissss,
the mother cobra and her five babies, glided across their path. Hissss, the cobra, raised her head high,
swaying to see who they carried on their stretcher, while the babies slid playfully between the
children’s’ legs. The children made sure they didn’t step on them. ‘Who has died?’ Hisss asked, in her
whispery voice. ‘Bright Light,’ the children said. Hissss bowed her head and said, ‘I am sorry. She was just
a child.’ They entered the Glade and the other children ran over and scrambled down from their trees to
see who had been hurt. They all cried when they saw that Bright Light had left them. They laid her
down by Latrommi and the children sat around in solemn, sad silence. Latrommi sighed aloud. ‘I told you
not to play those games,’ it whispered sadly. ‘I cannot help you when you are meant to die.’ Latrommi
began to hum. And then Silver Light began to sing softly. A boy began to tap a hollow log, setting the
rhythm, a girl blew into her flute, another boy puffed into a gourd, a sad bass ‘oomph-oomph’, while
another child plucked at the vines strung across a bamboo stick. They all joined her singing, their voices
in sweet and perfect harmony. But they sang in their own language, a song of mourning and farewell.
Still singing, one by one, they rose and began to dance around Bright Light. It was a slow, graceful dance.
Their hands caressed the air above her, forming waves like a river, waving their farewells to their sister.
The singing and dancing lasted over an hour. When they finished the farewell ceremony, Silver Light
removed the amulet from around Bright Light’s neck, and placed the chip on top of Latrommi. She no
longer needed its protection. Then Silver Light removed all Bright Light’s clothes, and folded them
neatly. Though ragged and faded, another child could wear them. It was dark now. They lit their
beeswax candles, and, forming a procession, carried Bright Light’s bier out of the Glade. They wound
their way through the jungle, passing a herd of sambar. At first the herd was startled and readied to bolt
but then, recognising the children, they crowded around. Their elderly chief, with his large antlers and
whitening chin, asked ‘Who has died?’ ‘Bright Light,’ the children said. ‘And how did that happen?’ The
children told the herd what had happened. ‘That black river is hard and dangerous,’ the chief said.
‘Those metal beasts have killed many of us who live here. You children play those games and get hurt.’
Nearing the river, they followed a fresh trail of broken branches, leaves were scattered around in
abundance, tender shoots littered the ground, as if a hurricane had cut a broad swathe through the
jungle. They stepped through the destruction, and caught up with the Large Ones, an elephant herd
feeding. There were nineteen in the herd, with four small ones. The older ones were reaching up into
the high branches with their trunks and tearing down tender shoots and leaves. The babies remained
close to their mothers but when they saw the children they left that safety to join them, and playfully
butted them. Even a small butt from those hard heads would send the children tumbling down. The
children dodged away, this wasn’t the time to play. If the children had been strangers to the jungle, the
mothers would have trumpeted their rage and charged, trunks raised, ears laid back. Now, as the
children passed among them, they reached out to touch Bright Light’s body gently with the tips of their
trunks. ‘What happened?’ Sahoom, of the beautiful curving tusks, asked. The children told them. ‘We
told you not to play those dangerous games,’ the bull scolded. ‘I don’t know why you can’t live like us, in
simplicity. Do you want us to carry her? We will do it gladly.’ ‘No,’ the children said, as they continued
their journey and the elephants trumpeted a sad farewell. ‘We can carry her.’ When the children
reached the river, four of them slipped into the chilly water with the bier and guided it out mid-stream.
They left two candles, one at the head and the other at the foot of the bier, and pushed the bier. The
current caught it, and they watched as Bright Light floated serenely away from them with the candles to
light her way through the long night ahead of her. When the children returned to the Grove, they sat in
a circle around Latrommi and talked about Bright Light. Each one had to tell a story about Bright Light.
Who found her and where? What was her first name before she named herself? When did she speak
her first word? What was it? How she helped in the Grove. How beautifully she sang and danced. The
stories only recalled her goodness. And they laughed often at their memories of her. She had been a
happy person, always laughing, always willing to help the others, cooking, looking after the babies,
harvesting the rice, gathering the honey. They remembered she had asked a thousand questions, but
none of them knew the answers. They asked such questions themselves. Why do birds fly and not walk?
Why do spiders spin webs? Why do butterflies leave their bodies so soon? Why is water cool? Why did
our mothers and fathers leave us in the jungle? Why does the sun rise? What is the moon? What is that
silver thin fish that flies so high up, higher than any bird, and makes no noise? These were debates that
took place nightly, after they had finished all their chores. The world puzzled them, and they wished
they had some answers. * * * Yellow Rose removed her amulet which had the chip from Latrommi, then
took Coolclear’s chip. She positioned them carefully over the spot he had pointed to, then cupped her
palm over them. The children knew the powers of Latrommi but only used that power in an emergency.
It could heal wounds but it could not heal death. ‘Do you feel anything?’ ‘Hot,’ he whispered. ‘Very hot,
it’s going into my body.’ He gritted his teeth as the heat seemed to burn through his skin. Then slowly he
began to relax as the heat lessened and began to cool. She removed her hand and picked up the
chips.He prodded at his side and didn’t feel a thing. He almost laughed, stifled it, and sat up.
‘Something’s happening,’ said Yellow Rose. All the animals are very disturbed. I was looking for you
when Chief Korung began urging me to follow him.’ They listened. The immediate jungle was very silent.
Then they heard the quick rustle of something small approaching their hiding place. It moved stealthily,
cautiously, pausing for long moment. Finally, a small head with bright eyes poked around the edge of
the opening. It was Mons, the mongoose. ‘The man animal is sitting in the tree with his long stick,’ it
spoke in a squeaky quickquick whisper. It slipped in and sat up on its haunches, a slim furry animal,
much bigger than a squirrel with a greyish coat and a long bushy tail. ‘We need you to come with us.
How are you going to do that with him waiting to kill something?’ ‘How far away?’ ‘About one hundred
of my paces.’ Coolclear and Yellow Rose unwrapped their chips from Latrommi. They did not like to
overuse its gifts to them. The mongoose watched with inquisitive eyes as Coolclear placed the chip on
the base of his neck and pressed it in, where it stuck. Yellow Rose did the same. In that instant, they
both vanished. ‘Where have you gone?’ Mons squeaked in panic, spinning round and round in search of
them. ‘Nowhere. We’re still here. See, you can see our footprints, can’t you?’ It peered down and saw
the imprint of their feet—five toes a foot, twenty toes in all—in the soft soil. ‘You must teach me that
trick. Then no one will attack me and I can hunt without being seen. Yes, yes, show me, I can be the
strongest in the jungle then.’ ‘It only lasts a few moments,’ Coolclear whispered. ‘We must hurry out of
the Big Person’s sight before the power wears off.’ The mongoose scuttled out and rustled back into the
undergrowth. They followed it, carefully avoiding bushes and dodging branches. When they looked
down they saw the leaves on the ground crushed by their feet, and heard the soft rustle. The Big Person
was sitting astride a low branch, his killing stick dangling from his hand, ready to be pulled up, to spit out
its noise and death. He was a skinny man with a dark, hairy face. When he drew his lips back they saw
the gaps in his mouth. The teeth were yellow as a tiger’s. They saw him stir, listening to the soft rustle
of the undergrowth. He knew something was approaching. It came nearer and nearer. His hair stood on
end as he saw nothing. Yet, whatever it was—and he knew it was a child of the jungle—was almost upon
him. Coolclear couldn’t resist the mischievous temptation. He reached up to the killing stick and pulled it
out the Big Person’s grasp. The man screeched in fright, almost in imitation of Chief Korung. Coolclear
threw the stick as far as he could into the jungle. Then they ran as fast as their legs would carry them,
until they were far away from the Big Person. They removed the chips from the base of their throats and
became visible again.

MEETING SAAHOOM

Their sudden reappearance under a tree scared the wits out of Chief Korung. He had been sitting on a
lower branch, scratching his tummy, wondering what he should do next, now that he had lost the child
of the jungle. She and the other one had probably been eaten by the two tigers. Should he, he thought,
find another child? Now, he leapt like a tightly wound spring onto the branch above him and screamed a
warning to his tribe even further above, foraging the small, juicy purple jumblum plums that they loved
so much. They began to scream as well. ‘Quiet,’ Coolclear spoke softly and urgently. ‘Sshhhh,’ whispered
Yellow Rose. ‘There’s a Big Person with a killing stick nearby.’ ‘How can I keep quiet when you frighten
me by popping out of the earth like that?’ the Chief scolded them. ‘If I could do that I’d be lord of the
jungle.’ He swung back down to the lower branch. ‘We must hurry.’ ‘How far?’ ‘At least half a day’s
journey.’ He peered down and said rudely, ‘But with her it will take two days. We should leave her
behind.’ ‘No, I’m coming with you,’ Yellow Rose said stubbornly. ‘I can run as fast as anyone.’ ‘It will be
quicker through the trees,’ Coolclear said, and lifted Yellow Rose up so that the Chief could grab her
hand. She was swift as the Chief as he scuttled up the tree to the very top and, along with his tribe,
swung from the topmost branch of the peepul tree to the next tree, a tamarind. Coolclear and Yellow
Rose followed them, flying between branches dizzily, the earth far below them and the sky just above
their heads. They let go one branch and sprang for the next. This was faster than running and dodging
through the bushes, over fallen branches, jumping ditches and skirting mounds on the jungle’s floor. For
Yellow Rose, this was exhilarating, because even though she insisted she could run, her weak leg ached
if she overdid it. They heard the trumpeting of elephants ahead of them and as they swung through the
trees, they looked down and saw the herd. There were nineteen in this herd and they formed a rough
circle, facing inwards. ‘Wait, I want to speak to them and hear what they have to say,’ Coolclear said and
dropped from branch to branch so that he was immediately above them. He scrambled down the tree
trunk and walked between the huge swaying legs that towered above him, and ducked under the
tummy of one of the elephants. If any one of them had moved, they would have crushed him to death.
There were also three babies among them, and they came gleefully to play with him, buffeting him
between them as if he were a ball. ‘Stop it,’ a mother rumbled, and Coolclear faintly felt the earth shiver
underfoot. Elephants spoke to each other by sending signals down through their stomachs. These
vibrations could travel many, many miles and send a message—about water holes, food, danger, which
direction they were moving—to a distant herd. The mother’s trunk curled out and she pushed her calf
away from Coolclear. Another mother did the same. ‘Why can’t we play with the child? You always let us
and they love playing with us.’ ‘This is a very serious meeting. We have trouble.’ ‘We’re travelling with
the monkeys to see what it is,’ Coolclear said. He had moved now into the centre of the circle, and
looked around now, at the massive animals ranged around him. ‘I can tell you. It’s a bad vibration we’re
all receiving,’ said their chief, the bull elephant with massive tusks that curved sharp as new moons on
either side of his mouth. This was Saahoom. ‘Have you seen anything?’ ‘No but the feeling …’ ‘It could all
be rumour and gossip,’ Coolclear said. ‘This whole jungle spends its time gossiping. Will you come with
me and see for yourself? The Chief says it’s not far now, just across the water.’ ‘Yes, I’ll come,’ he lifted
his head to squint up at the monkeys and saw Yellow Rose. He stretched his trunk up to her and she
took hold of it and he gently helped her down. Then he wrapped his trunk around her and lifted her up
to straddle his back. He did the same for Coolclear. ‘You others remain here until I return,’ he spoke to
his herd. ‘Wait for me. I don’t want to search half the jungle for you.’ He moved forward majestically
and the two children swayed along with his movements. They moved forward until they sat on his neck
and they wrapped their legs as tightly as possible against him. It was not a comfortable ride. He swayed
with each step and they nearly fell off. He was a massive animal and they had to duck frequently to
avoid being brushed off his back by overhanging branches. If a branch or a clump of bamboo came in his
path he reached out and swept it aside with his trunk. His sure footing led them down into dips and up
to the brows. Overhead, the monkeys swung from tree to tree keeping pace with them. ‘Who told you
that something bad is happening?’ ‘The green birds that chatter and squawk the whole time and give me
a headache. But theycover huge distances. They crossed the river then fled back. Whatever they saw
across the river is waiting to attack.’ The sun was setting, the jungle grew darker, more mysterious as
the light faded. It grew cooler too. Usually at this time the jungle would be buzzing and humming with
the many insects that lived there, but this evening they too were quiet. It was an eerie silence, and very
unnatural. The children felt uneasy, the fear was contagious. Saahoom slowed, his step grew lighter.
‘We’re nearly there,’ he whispered. ‘You two are smaller. You can slide through the bush without being
seen.’ He raised his trunk and lifted them off one at a time. Coolclear and Yellow Rose crept through the
bushes. Chief Korung leapt lightly down from the branch to crouch beside them. He could never curb his
curiosity. They could smell and hear the water whispering just beyond the tree line. They lay flat on their
bellies and slid along the ground until they were at the very edge of the jungle. They parted the bushes
and looked across the wide river. In the far distance they saw the camp fires of an army of Big People
stretching along the distance banks as far as the eye could see. ‘Wait here,’ Coolclear whispered. ‘I’ll go
over and see what they’re going to do.’ ‘I should go with you,’ Yellow Rose whispered back. ‘No. It’s best
I go alone.’ Coolclear stepped gently into the water and almost soundlessly began to swim across the
river. The far shore was over two hundred metres away and he left scarcely a ripple behind him. When
he reached the other side he moved in the shadows of lantana bushes and the trees and was barely
visible. As he neared the camp, he crouched lower and scuttled towards where a group of men sat
talking and drinking from a bottle that they passed around. ‘When do we start work?’ one said. ‘When
the boats come to take us across,’ another replied. ‘Maybe tomorrow or the day after.’ ‘And we clear
the whole jungle too,’ a third one said. ‘We don’t just steal a few trees. The whole jungle must be cut
down. That’s what the boss said and that woman with him will be paying him to do that.’ ‘Who is she?’
‘We don’t know. But from what I heard, she’s searching for something in the jungle. Some metal.’ ‘I
heard there are children in the jungle, and she wants to know where they live. She’s searching for them.’
‘Those are just ghosts,’ another man whispered and shivered. ‘And what about the animals in the
jungle?’ ‘We kill them all. What else? Do you know how much a tiger, a dead one, will get you? The
Chinese will pay 25,000 dollars for one. Maybe more.’ ‘The boss said we could sell the dead tigers and
keep the money,’ one of the hunters laughed in greed. ‘How many are there in this jungle?’ ‘Twenty,
maybe. There used to be a hundred but I and a couple of friends have killed a few and sold them. The
Chinese pay for every part from the bones to the skin.’ ‘And the elephant tusks?’ ‘We can sell those too.
They’re like gold today. But I don’t know how many elephants are left in the jungle.’ ‘What else?’
‘Everything,’ a man laughed from the other side. ‘Panthers, leopards … foreign women wear their skins
as coats. And the rhino horn can be sold for a few thousand dollars. The jungle can make us very rich
men.’ Coolclear felt ill at the words of these cruel men. But what he had heard about the woman
worried him more. Why was she searching for them? Of what value were they for this woman? They
were just children. He shut his eyes and focused his thoughts, sending them back all the way to the
glade. ‘A woman is searching for us,’ he messaged Latrommi. ‘Why is that?’ ‘She is looking for me,’
Latrommi replied softly. ‘Be very careful of her.’ . He backed slowly, melting into the shadows. He
counted the big machines looming out of the night and looked at the two other strange machines that
stood on wheels and looked like trucks. The lights were on inside both of them. He wondered what they
were but didn’t dare waste any more time. Keeping in the shadows, a shadow himself, he returned to
the river, and swam back to the jungle. ‘They’re going to kill the whole jungle,’ he told the others,
and couldn’t keep the tremble out of his voice. ‘And everything in it.’ He didn’t tell his companions the
real reason, they wouldn’t understand. ‘I knew nothing good could ever happen when the man animal
was around,’ Chief Korung said wearily. They fell silent, their hearts heavy. They looked across the river,
puzzled, unable to understand why the Big People were so cruel. As they turned to leave, they heard the
small soft wail of a baby. Chief Korung jumped in surprise, then parted the bushes. It was naked and lay
on a piece of coloured cloth left by the mother to protect the baby. Yellow Rose picked up the baby
carefully. It stopped crying and reached up to pluck at her nose and gurgle. She noticed it had a string
around its neck and from that hung a small, silvery, heart-shaped pendant. The Big People thought such
little objects protected them from bad things. ‘Isn’t it beautiful!’ ‘Why do they abandon their small ones
like this?’ the Chief demanded. ‘We would never give up our babies.’ ‘Because they’re poor people,’
Coolclear said and tickled the baby’s chin. It smiled up at him. ‘What’s “poor”?’ ‘They have nothing.’
‘We have nothing too,’ Chief Korung screwed up his wizened face even more as he tried to decipher the
puzzle. ‘Are we poor?’ ‘No. We can live off the jungle. We don’t need the things the people in the
Crowded Place want. They have forgotten how to live now. They want many, many things which we
can’t even imagine. None of those things they want help them in any way, and yet if they don’t have
them, they call themselves poor. That is why, if they think they are too poor to look after their babies,
they leave them for us to care for.’ They returned to Saahoom who was pulling juicy shoots off a tree,
eating idly, as he always did. He had a constant need for snacks. ‘Well?’ ‘Hundreds of Big People are
across the river,’ Coolclear reported. ‘They will attack us soon. They will destroy the whole jungle and kill
us all.’ He didn’t add what they would do to him and the other animals. ‘What for? We don’t worry
them, we keep to ourselves in this jungle. They’re the ones who’re always entering here. They murdered
my uncle when I was a baby and took his long teeth and left him rotting. They are so cruel and greedy.
Now they want my long teeth too.’ VARANG’S BABY

‘They’ve taken the baby,’ Varang whispered. ‘I know they were watching us,’ she said. She lifted an arm
and pointed a finger across the river. A narrow beam, sharp as a laser, shot out of the tip of her finger
and raked the bushes and trees on the other side. It wasn’t a white light but almost yellow, barely
visible to the naked eye except for its shimmer. ‘They were there.’ She snapped off the light. She
stalked back to her RV and switched on her television set. She surfed until she found the signal from the
charm that hung around the baby’s neck. It wasn’t very clear. She caught glimpses of a young girl
looking down at the baby … then of a boy … something very dark and very large was with them. An
elephant, she thought, when she glimpsed the tusks. They were speaking to each other but she could
not understand one word they spoke. The gift of languages was a very minor, almost negligible part of
Latrommi’s power. It had the power to grant the possessor immortality, to travel through space and
time, to turn stone into gold, if one wanted. She did not know how many generations of her family had
been searching for it. They believed it had existed since the earth was born. It was indestructible, and
had survived the millenniums from the Cambrian period down through to this century. It had been the
companion of the warm seas from which all creatures had emerged, lived among dinosaurs and
mammoths and seenthem vanish off the earth’s face, watched man slowly stand erect and then fly over
the earth in silvery aeroplanes. It was filled with the knowledge of all things but her family believed it
wasn’t of the earth. Where it came from, they didn’t know, but they looked up to the stars and believed
it had come from beyond them. It had inspired men from the beginning to draw, sing, touched some
with genius. But having unleashed the power of thought in men, it saw the horror too that came from it,
and the destruction that followed. So it had withdrawn and hidden itself away, waiting for the cycle of
earth to start anew, once everything had been destroyed by the humans it had nurtured. It had been
dormant for over a century now, patiently waiting for the end. She had spent a fortune searching the
jungle once she knew about the children. A mapping satellite had been manoeuvered to remain in
position over the jungle and each day she had searched inch by inch for Latrommi. Of course, the
satellite couldn’t penetrate the cover of trees but because of its unique composition, she thought the
satellite would pick up a signal from Latrommi. She had been patient, but there was never a signal.
Latrommi remained silent and well hidden. She had then searched the fortress and seen the children
moving between palaces and the stables, playing childish games but still there was no signal. The
moment the children returned to the jungle, she lost sight of them. They simply vanished. She had then
sent in trackers to find the children but they couldn’t. Finally, losing all patience after six months, she
had decided to raze the jungle and find Latrommi. When they carried the baby to their hiding place, she
would know exactly where it was. It wouldn’t be long now. Maybe she wouldn’t need Bhask and his
army, after all.

MAKING PLANS
 Coolclear, Yellow Rose, Saahoom and Chief Korung went in a slow, thoughtful procession back from the
edge of the jungle. The baby appeared to be asleep, lulled by the movements of Saahoom. ‘So, what do
we do?’ Chief Korung asked petulantly. He wanted action, not this long thought-filled, plodding silence.
He won his battles against other challengers by quick, fast and ferocious action, never giving them a
chance. Now he wanted to attack the army across the river. ‘The best defence is attack,’ Coolclear spoke
finally, breaking the silence, knowing why he had spoken such words. ‘At the same time we must
prepare to defend our home and that means we must ALL work together. We cannot have one species
fighting against another or killing each other during this time. So first we’ll attack their machines.’ ‘And
how do we do that?’ Chief Korung asked as politely as possible. ‘The machines are unbreakable.’ ‘We’ll
find a way.’ ‘One of us will have to infiltrate them to attack the machines,’ Saahoom said finally. ‘And
that means one of the children as they’re the only ones who look like them and won’t be noticed.’ ‘Why
not one of us?’ Chief Korung said. ‘Who notices us monkeys playing around?’ ‘You won’t understand
their language,’ Coolclear said. ‘You understand us because we speak in your language. But we will need
your help to attack the machines.’ ‘We don’t need to understand what they’re talking about,’ Chief
Korung said. ‘We know they have an evil intent against us and the jungle. We’ve all been feeling it, the
air is full of danger. They want to destroy us all. I know them only too well—I’ve visited their crowded
places.’ ‘But why?’ Yellow Rose’s voice trembled in fear. ‘We’ve done nothing to anger them.’ Coolclear
remained silent though he knew the answer. ‘But why now?’ Saahoom said. ‘I can smell another intent
in the air, there is another reason.’ They moved slowly through the jungle, back the way they’d come,
still discussing the problem and trying to understand the reason for the impending invasion. Suddenly,
out of the deep shadows, stepped five tigers, blocking their path. Chief Korung leapt higher up the tree,
chattering and scolding. Saahoom’s ears went back, he trumpeted a warning and lowered his head to
charge them, his long teeth glistening like sharp spears in the pale light.

PERYTHALA AND FRIENDS

‘Wait,’ Coolclear ordered. He slipped off Saahoom’s neck and holding onto an ear, lowered himself to
the ground. ‘I know them. They’re perythala and his mate and …’ ‘My brother and friends,’ perythala
growled. ‘Don’t trust them,’ Chief Korung screamed from up high. ‘It’s just a trick so they can eat me.’
‘Oh, shut up. Anyway, monkeys are tasteless,’ perythala growled up at the Chief, then turned to address
the children and Saahoom, whose head was still lowered and his long teeth ready to gouge the tigers.
‘We followed you to the river and saw what is happening across on the other side. I know we have our
differences and many of you are afraid of us but that is the nature of the jungle. We kill only to eat, as
you all know and when we have we are harmless as kittens passing among you.’ He looked up again.
‘We’re all woven into the fabric of this jungle, it is our home, our life and our death. Whatever harms
one of us unnaturally, harms us all. This danger from across the river will be against all of us and I
suggest we act together to defend the jungle and ourselves.’ He paused and raised his head proudly.
‘Some of us will die in this battle so that others may live.’ Saahoom raised his lowered head, also raising
his defensive tusks. He glanced first at Coolclear then up at Chief Korung, then studied the five tigers.
They were big ones too, the biggest being the one who had spoken. It surprised him that they were
together, because tigers were loners, they hunted and lived alone. They guarded and marked out their
territories and should another tiger cross that mark, there would be a fight, with such terrible roars, that
they would shake the whole jungle. But this danger they sensed had brought them together. ‘Then we
should all meet and make plans for the attack and the defence,’ Saahoom said. ‘As it’s very dark now,
and the night is a busy time for many of us, we should meet when the bright light touches the topmost
branches of the trees,’ Coolclear said. ‘In the meantime, we will see who else will join us.’ ‘Where?’
perythala asked. ‘By the grove where we live.’ The tigers growled their agreement and slipped away into
the night, going their separate ways. They would hunt separately. Coolclear looked up. Chief Korung,
having heard all, had also vanished into the trees to join his tribe. He hated being away too long from
them in case a usurper had taken his place and he had another fight on his hands. Being the Chief could
be a troublesome burden. ‘Do you have a plan?’ Saahoom asked as he continued on with them. He
curled his trunk around Coolclear and had lifted him back up to sit on his neck with Yellow Rose. ‘You
talked as if you have one.’ ‘Not yet,’ Coolclear laughed. ‘But I hope we’ll have one in the morning when
I’ve spoken to all the other children.’ And to Latrommi, he said to himself. ‘They’re going to kill us all
unless we can stop them,’ Saahoom said dryly. ‘We must get as many animals as we can together for the
meeting,’ Coolclear said, and began to call out softly as they moved through the jungle. ‘Meeting
tomorrow at first light to defend ourselves against the evil outside, meeting tomorrow at first light to
defend ourselves against the evil outside …’ ‘No one’s going to hear you if you whisper like that,’
Saahoom said. He lifted his trunk and trumpeted out aloud as he could, shaking the earth with the noise,
shivering the air and the leaves of the surrounding trees. ‘Meeting tomorrow at first light to defend
ourselves against the evil outside …’ He was answered with angry insults from all sides, above and
around him. Parrots, pigeons, mynahs, woodpeckers, hawks, crows, koels and many others screamed
and yelled. ‘We heard him the first time, we’re trying to sleep.’ In the bushes and long grass, snakes and
other creatures which lived closer to the earth also shouted at Saahoom. ‘We’re hunting and you’re
disturbing our prey. We’ll be there, so don’t keep shouting. We’re not deaf, you know.’ ‘Sorry,’ Saahoom
muttered. ‘They can be deaf when it suits them.’ His herd had not moved too far and were impatiently
waiting for him to lead them on to better feeding grounds. They had heard of a new stand of bamboo
further away that had not been touched yet. Coolclear and Yellow Rose, tenderly holding the sleeping
baby, slid down from Saahoom’s back. They didn’t have far to go now to their Glade and though it was
nearly pitch dark, with a little filtering moonlight, they walked unerringly through the jungle as if it were
broad daylight. Like all their neighbours, the children too had developed night vision through living in
the jungle. They reached the edge of the Glade. It was silent inside, all the children were fast asleep.
They were hungry and they both thought of the ripe guavas and papayas that were kept in the little
storehouse. They would feast on them before going to sleep. However, when they tried to enter the
Glade, they found that they couldn’t. An invisible barrier stopped them from sliding between the trunks
of the trees. This had never happened before. No matter which way they tried, the barrier kept them
out.

THE BABY BARRED

‘It’s Latrommi,’ Coolclear said. ‘It won’t let us enter.’ ‘But why? It knows us.’ ‘It must have its reasons.
It’s protected us all these years. Big People can never enter the Glade.’He looked around and back the
way they’d come in case there was a threat he hadn’t noticed. But there were no intruders; their
neighbours would have sounded their alarm calls if there were. ‘You try again,’ Coolclear said. Since
Yellow Rose carried the baby, he had let her go before him. She tried and came up against the barrier. It
didn’t seem to be made of anything at all, not metal or wood, but it was a force that prevented her
taking a further step. ‘You try now,’ Yellow Rose said, and took a few steps back. Coolclear stepped
forward, expecting to feel the barrier, but he slipped through into the Glade, almost falling over. He
looked back at Yellow Rose. She came in quickly, thinking Coolclear had found an opening, but the
barrier stopped her. They both looked down at the baby in her arms. It was the stranger to the Glade.
‘Put it down, and try to come through.’ Yellow Rose carefully lowered the baby to the ground. It still
slept, wrapped in the shawl. She walked to the edge of the Glade, hesitated, afraid she would be kept
out of the only home she had ever known. She stepped forward forcefully and, like Coolclear, stumbled
and fell through into the Glade. They looked towards Latrommi. It remained the soothing pale glowing
green they would wake at night and see. But it wasn’t silent, it vibrated with a soft hum, as if singing to
itself. It was a comfort to all of them. ‘It’s never done that before. Every baby we’ve found has passed
through without any problem.’ Cautiously, they stepped back out of the Glade and squatted by the
sleeping baby. It was barely a summer old, and it looked perfectly healthy to them. Which was unusual.
All of the children of the jungle had something wrong with them, which was why they had been
abandoned. Coolclear, though he looked physically well and perfect now, had been born with yellow
skin. He learned this from the older children who had raised him. He had been born with a sickness,
which was why he had been abandoned. The children had given him a mixture of herbs, and gradually
his skin took on a normal colour. The baby was a pretty little thing. It slept so peacefully, now and then
making soft grunting sounds as if it dreamt of good things from its past life. Coolclear placed his ear
against its chest; it breathed normally. They removed the covering and examined it from head to toe.
‘Try taking it in without the shawl,’ Coolclear said. Yellow Rose picked it up and moved to the Glade. She
came up against the barrier. They both looked at the small pendant, noting for the first time that it had a
small, clear stone set in the centre of the heart. Yellow Rose bent closer to peer at it. Coolclear lifted
the pendant from around the baby’s neck and placed it on the ground. ‘Now try.’ Yellow Rose picked up
the baby and approached the Glade, hesitated and then stepped forward. She passed through into the
Glade. ‘It’s this then, that Latrommi won’t allow in.’ He stepped away from it as if it were dangerous.
‘What should we do with it?’ ‘Leave it there,’ Yellow Rose suggested. ‘No.’ They both heard the soft
voice that entered their heads. They looked across at Latrommi. It was a brighter green and the light
pulsed as more words came into their heads. ‘Hang it from a long stick and hold it out at the entrance of
the Glade. Do not place your face close to it.’ Coolclear found a stick about three paces long. Carefully,
as if fishing in a river, he hooked up the pendant and held it out, dangling from the stick. He walked
towards the entrance to the Glade, the stick in front of him. As the pendant reached the entrance a
bright flash blinded Coolclear and Yellow Rose, and he dropped the stick in fright. When their eyes
adjusted again to the night, they saw that nothing existed of the pendant, except smoke.

AWFUL CREATURES

When the bright flash happened so far away, Varang’s television screen went blank. She knew she had
been stupid, too eager. She stalked out of the RV. She should not have placed the pendant on the baby.
It had given her away. Latrommi knew now someone was nearby, hunting for it, even if it didn’t know it
was her. She had, once again, underestimated its powers and its intelligence. She had no idea from
where it drew its power. She glanced up to the sky, as if hoping she would see a beam streaking down
into the jungle to pinpoint its location. The sky was clear as crystal, dotted with millions of stars and a
half moon hanging overhead, so bright and large she thought she could reach up and touch it. She
looked back towards the jungle, so dark and impenetrable. She had not been able to follow the baby’s
path through it towards Latrommi. The girl who carried it had covered the pendant with the cloth.
Another stupid move; she should have left the baby naked. But for a moment, she had glimpsed trees,
and heard a whispered conversation between the girl and the boy. They were certainly not ghosts. She
had not understood a word they had spoken with each other; the reception wasn’t too good, like the
bad connection of a mobile phone. So they knew its power then, it had stopped the pendant from
entering its hiding place. Or was it really there? It could be anywhere in the jungle, its reach was infinite
and if it was protecting the children it would have followed their path from the river. But it had allowed
in the baby. She was smarter than Latrommi. Varang returned to the RV, slumped down into the sofa
and held out one hand. Kal immediately opened the refrigerator, poured a soft drink for his mistress and
placed it tenderly into the open hand. He even closed his mistress’s fingers, as she was so deep in
thought that the fingers hadn’t closed around the glass. ‘I hate children,’ Varang announced. ‘Horrible
creatures,’ Kal announced. ‘Awful creatures,’ Sasa said quickly. Varang knew why Latrommi was
protecting these children. It treasured innocence above all other virtues and loved to explore the world
through their eyes and minds. In a way, it was a child itself, sophisticated, no doubt, and with an
intellect superior to that of any human, but it believed it kept its thoughts and feelings fresh and
renewed only in the company of children. Children were not corrupted by greed, envy, hate, lust and
jealousy and the need for so many useless things that cluttered up the world; especially those orphaned
children who lived in the jungle. They did not have the pressures of parents prodding them constantly to
achieve something or the other, telling them to behave, telling them to be good and eat their
vegetables. They did not go to school and meet rich children whose parents could buy them every toy
in the world, and make them envious. There were no poor children either, for them to look down upon
or tease. No, the children of the jungle were all equal and loved each other, and that was why Latrommi
lived among them. They would also remain children forever as long as Latrommi was there. She
wondered which had come first— Latrommi or the children. Latrommi, she guessed. It had found a
hiding place and thrown a protective ring around itself. And then the first child had entered this magical
place, then others had followed, one by one. ‘I hate all animals too,’ Varang announced. ‘Awful
creatures,’ Sasa spat. ‘Ughhh,’ Kal grimaced more evocatively, to outdo Sasa. Animals, whether tigers,
elephants, snakes or birds or insects, were pure too. They were like children too. It was their purity that
she hated. Animals lived strictly according to their nature and never wavered from the rules they lived
by. They were good and honest creatures. They didn’t lie, cheat, steal, murder (except to eat), envy or
covet. And every elephant, tiger, snake, squirrel, bee, crocodile, every living being in the jungle, had a
unique and special personality of its own, even as every human did. Nor were they afraid of death, they
knew it came to all things and they accepted death as gracefully as they lived their lives. This was why
Varang hated them as much as she hated children. Varang prided herself on being evil. That was her
nature, she was born into it. She had inherited evil from her father and mother, her grandparents, her
great, great grandparents. Her family went back to the beginning of time when evil was needed to battle
against good. Good by itself was meaningless, it needed an opposite. Hot needed cold, with day came
night, black demanded white, high had to have a low, fat needed a thin, small couldn’t live without big,
hard couldn’t exist without soft, fast was nothing without slow, friends needed enemies, even as the
earth wouldn’t be if the water didn’t let it be. Which was why a Varang had come into existence. If the
world was all good, its goodness would have no meaning. Of course she wasn’t alone, there were plenty
of evil people in the world. She thought of summoning some of her friends to help her capture
Latrommi, then had second thoughts. They would naturally want a piece of its power. Worse, they could
steal it away from her, and then she would have to do battle with them. There was no honour among
evil people, which was one of the drawbacks of being evil. Honour wasn’t a word in their vocabulary,
though right now, Varang wished it was. She could do with their help. Latrommi was wily, clever and it
had powers she could not even imagine. Now, it knew she was near. It had been her eagerness to find it
that had made her commit that stupid mistake with the pendant. What would it do? She tried to think
for it. It could move again, hide somewhere else. Then she’d have to search all over again. Or would it
remain where it was and fight her? But it would know that in the battle the children could be
harmed,even killed, as Varang would have no compunction to kill them if that got her Latrommi. Who
else would be on her side? She had Sasa and Kal, they were minor evil persons, capable of small, mean
things. She snapped her manicured fingers and her dozing servants jumped up to attention. ‘I know.
Why didn’t I think of it before? The baby might fail in its special mission, so I want you both to go into
the jungle immediately and kidnap one of the children of the jungle. I’ll threaten to kill it unless
Latrommi comes to me. And Latrommi will do that because it knows I will kill the child if I have to.’ Sasa
and Kal remained standing to as much attention as they could. ‘Well, what are you standing here like a
couple of statues, for? Off, off … go and get me a child.’ ‘But where will we find it?’ Kal whined. ‘In the
jungle, you idiot. Where else?’ ‘Yes, but it’s very dark in the jungle right now,’ Sasa trembled, glancing
out at the pitch blackness outside the window. ‘And you know we’re frightened of the dark,’ Kal added.
‘We’re not all-powerful and all-seeing like you, our Lord. Things jump out in the night and scare us.’ ‘He
means that there are greater evils lurking around in the night, especially in jungles, and even though
we’re your servants they won’t respect us for the evil people we are. It’s equally hard for them to see in
the night.’ ‘We’ll go first thing in the morning,’ Kal said. ‘After breakfast,’ Kal added. ‘Get out of here,’
Varang screamed, throwing the empty glass at them. They expected it and ducked. ‘Get out. I want the
child by lunchtime or you’re both dead.’ ‘Will any child do?’ Kal said from the door. ‘Any one will do.’
‘Can we beat it?’ ‘Yes, you can.’ ‘Can we torture it?’ ‘Leave that pleasure to me. I’ll torture it to find out
where Latrommi is hiding.’ She slammed the door shut on them and locked it. They were incompetent,
stupid, quarrelsome irritants but they were absolutely loyal and loved her. She moved quickly to her
bathroom, unlocked it and entered. Apart from a shower stall, a toilet and a wash basin, it was crammed
with all her magic potions and evil tricks. In a glass cabinet was a very black crow with red eyes, which
looked asleep, even dead. But she removed the covering and even as she picked it up and held it, came
to life, stirring between her hands. It wasn’t a real-life bird, it was an android, and drew its energy from
her hands. It finally flapped its wings and she carried it to the window and opened it. ‘Fly over the jungle
find Latrommi,’ she whispered, and released it. She watched it circle and then fly out into the night. She
hurried to her television set, switched it on and watched the dark jungle unfold below the bird.

STARTING THE BATTLE

All the children woke early out of habit and they all remembered the collective dreams they had dreamt.
The light was still grey, as if night was reluctant to leave and had to be driven out by the morning sun.
Coolclear sat up and looked across to the centre of the Glade. He shared his tree platform with three
other children. There were six other platforms, each on its own tree, made up of interwoven branches
and soft fronds. The children slept on whichever one they wanted. It was still dark, and he saw Latrommi
glowing brighter than usual. Usually it was a gentle steady glow. Now it was a darker green and pulsed,
as if it were breathing in and out calmly. Yellow Rose woke too, sensing the hum. The other two boys
sharing their platform were Alaba. Even though they were two, they shared one name because they
were identical twins. They were both blind and had been found on the river bank ten summers ago.
However, as they had grown older, a strange thing happened and the children knew it was the work of
Latrommi. The boys regained the sight in one eye each. The left Alaba could see through his left eye,
while the right Alaba could see through his right eye. So when they moved around they always kept
their positions, so that between them, they could see like someone who had two good eyes. Though
born blind, nature had compensated them. They could sing and they had the most beautiful voices ever
heard. Their voices were sweet and pure as the clearest water, soft as the early morning light, silvery as
the full moon’s light caressing the water. Everything—birds in mid-flight, prowling tigers, foraging
elephants, bees collecting pollen—everything stopped doing whatever they were doing to listen to them
sing. It wasn’t possible to move while they sang. No one understood their words, but the sounds flowing
out of their mouths had such power. It was as if the sun, moon and stars had cast a spell over everyone
within range and forbidden them to even move a finger. The children climbed down from their
platforms. Latrommi continued to hum and pulse, as if it was in deep thought, and, just as they had
dreamt, they approached it. Around its base were tiny green chips, each the size of a small finger nail.
‘Coolclear, take these chips and drop just one in each of the fuel tanks of the big machines. Just one.’
Only Coolclear heard the voice, and he carefully gathered up the chips. ‘Fuel tanks? What are they?’
‘They will be large boxes, either under the machines or fixed behind them. I will guide you.’ Even at that
instant Coolclear saw the images of them in his mind. Coolclear carefully wrapped the chips into a
banyan leaf. Then he told the other children about what they had seen the night before across the river.
Yellow Rose told them about the baby they had found. One of the other children cradled it in her lap
and the children smiled at it. It seemed a quiet and contented baby, looking innocently back at them and
then up at the circle of sky above its head. What puzzled them was that they could not find anything
physically wrong with the baby. It appeared to be in perfect health. Nor was it a female baby, reason
enough for the poor to abandon it. Then Yellow Rose told them how Latrommi would not allow the baby
to enter until they had removed the pendant, and how it had destroyed the pendant. All the children
turned to stare at Latrommi. It had never done such a thing before. ‘Yellow Rose, return the baby to
where you found it,’ Latrommi spoke to all of then now. ‘It’s not a human baby. I have erased part of its
memory and it will not remember where it has been. But be careful.’ ‘Varang is here,’ Coolclear said
suddenly, and when the children looked at him in surprise, he shrugged. ‘I don’t what or who that is.
Latrommi just told me that. And we must be very careful. We must not move around alone in the
jungle.’ ‘But we’ve always wandered alone in the jungle,’ Blue Stone said. He was a one-armed boy, with
a deep chest and a mischievous grin. He was always cheerful and tied his hair in a plait. He had asked
Yellow Rose to cut his hair shorter but she’d forgotten to do it. Blue Stone may have had black hair but
he was nearly as pale as Yellow Rose. His eyes were narrow and slanting, not at all like the other
children’s eyes. He had been found in a cave among the ravines to the north, across the river, when the
children were exploring. The baby lay wrapped in a blanket, not crying, and at some distance were two
dead men. They had been killed with killing sticks. Much later, when they had visited the Crowded Place
to beg for money they had heard that a baby had been kidnapped by bandits and had never been found
by the police who had searched the area. His parents, they heard, came from another land called China.
‘It’s our home, nothing in the jungle will harm or hurt us.’ ‘Until Varang is defeated, we must stay
together,’ Coolclear said. He paused, frowned and then added. ‘Varang is evil.’ Every child in the Glade
mirrored his frown. ‘Evil’ was a word they had never heard before. It had no meaning for them. ‘What is
‘evil’?’ Yellow Rose finally asked. ‘Something which will hurt us only because it will make it happy to see
us cry,’ Blue Stone said softly, as if repeating something he had just learned. The children never hurt
each other in any way—not by hitting, pinching, poking, biting, punching, tripping up or even saying
badthings about each other—and they couldn’t understand why hurting others would make someone
happy. Oh, they could be naughty at times. They would hide little things, like Yellow Rose’s stone doll.
She had found it in the fortress ruins and always kept it in the niche of a tree. When she went to play
with it, she’d find an owl in its place and it would hoot at her, flap its wings and fly away. The children
would follow her as she searched for it, but if she couldn’t find it, they’d always move it so she could.
And they knew how to cry. But if a child fell down or stepped on a large thorn, and cried, the other
children would immediately comfort him or her. They all heard Latrommi sigh and waited. Finally it
spoke to each one. ‘Varang is looking for me and believes she has found me. She wants me for my
power and believes she can capture me. This is as much your home as my home. Do you want me to
leave to save the jungle from destruction?’ ‘No, no, no,’ all the children shouted out aloud. ‘You must
live with us.’ ‘Then we’ll all have to fight. We must never run away from a battle, even if we think we’ll
be defeated. So we must first destroy the machines and then I will have to deal with her. Now you must
meet your neighbours. I have spoken to them all. They will fight alongside you children. I have convinced
them not to fight each other.’ The children rose, looked to Latrommi. They expected it to move (which it
never did) and follow them out of the Glade. But it remained rooted where it was.

THE GATHERING

They followed Coolclear out of the Glade. Sunlight filtered down, barely giving any light yet, barely
warming them. perythala and his mate sat in the tall grass. On the opposite side of the clearing stood
Jhoorha, the deer leader. He was brown with beautiful white spots and magnificent antlers, large as tree
branches, and he had three of his herd with him. They remained tense, ready to bolt, and wouldn’t take
their eyes of perythala. ‘We’re here for a meeting,’ perythala said in his throaty whisper. ‘I will not harm
anyone of you. I promise I won’t. The children will see to that.’ ‘But they’re small; you could just hit
them with your paw and sweep them aside,’ Jhoorha said. He had a high pitched voice and it trembled
nervously. ‘I’ve never ever harmed children,’ perythala protested. ‘They’re my friends, just as they’re
yours. Anyway, Saahoom is here too.’ He had heard Saahoom coming through the jungle, followed by
two of his herd, young, strong bulls. He stood there, swaying, his trunk plucking leaves to snack. ‘I heard
that,’ Saahoom said. ‘What am I supposed to do?’ ‘Protect us against the Tigers.’ ‘He won’t do anything
at this meeting,’ Saahoom said. ‘If he does I’ll pick him up, smash him against a tree and gore him with
my teeth.’ ‘I have given my word and I honour my word,’ perythala growled. ‘We’re here to discuss what
we must all do together to protect our jungle. If they destroy all the trees for their greed, we will be
destroyed as well. Then it won’t matter what I do. I won’t be alive.’ He added then, ‘Nor will any of you.’
‘We must not quarrel among ourselves,’ Coolclear spoke sternly for the children who had settled
themselves on the ground. ‘We must forget our natural instincts. At this meeting and others, we must all
agree to a truce for some time before the meeting and for some time after it. In this way, no one will be
attacked coming or going from here.’ They looked up when the leaves of the surrounding trees rustled,
though there wasn’t a drop of breeze to stir them, and distinctly heard the trees gently whisper, almost
like sighs, to them : ‘We’re here too, you must protect us. We have taken so many years to grow up into
what we are. Was it only to be cut down and burnt or made into their stupid furniture? We will do what
we can to help defend the jungle.’ ‘Thank you,’ the children and animals chorused. The trees spoke to
each other constantly, and the breeze carried their whispers to each other and sometimes to the
children. But it wasn’t often that they spoke directly to other creatures of the jungle. As they had no
exact sense of time, the others drifted in by ones, twos and threes. Chief Korung remained perched on a
low branch, ready to spring up higher should perythala make a move. Hisssking, the king cobra, slid in
between the bushes, followed by Yellow Hiss , the krait, who wasn’t more than two fingers long.
Hisssking was unending as he wound his way through and was almost fourteen paces from head to the
tip of his tail. And when he rose off the ground, swaying mesmerically to keep his balance, his head was
higher than a child’s head. And when he spread his hood it was wide as a child’s body. He was indeed a
ferocious looking snake. But of the two, the children knew Yellow hisss was the more dangerous; one
little nip from him and you were dead. They represented all the snakes in the jungle but Yellow hisss,
despite his poison, kept a respectful distance from Hisssking. When a snake was hungry and couldn’t
find rats or mice, it might eat another snake. Groont the wild pig leader trotted in quickly, skirting
perythala cautiously. One of the tigers had eaten his cousin a few nights back. Sleek as dark water, Black
Panth, the panther, padded into the clearing, sniffed and bared his teeth at the tigers, and settled down
in the shade. He was too near for the comfort of Groont, who trotted away to stand close to Saahoom.
Baaayy, the jackal chief, slunk in out of the jungle, looked around, and found himself a spot just behind
perythala. He and his tribe followed the tigers to scavenge whatever wasn’t eaten and the tigers didn’t
mind that, as long their food wasn’t stolen. Snapsnap, the dhole, ran in on his skinny legs. He had a wide
chest and his body sloped down to his hind legs. Everyone shifted nervously, even though he had come
alone. Snapsnap and his tribe could run tirelessly in the chase, for many kilometres, until whatever they
hunted fell down in exhaustion. Even perythala shifted away as a pack of wild dogs would tear even him
apart. The bushes parted, a snout poked out first. ‘Is this the meeting place then?’ Baaloo the brown
bear asked gently. ‘What does it look like then?’ Snapsnap snapped back. Baaloo pushed aside the
lantana bushes and ambled out. He was quite near-sighted and tripped over yellow hiss who hissed
angrily and slid away. He sat back on his haunches and looked at the crowd of his neighbours. Unlike
others, there was no one he feared and even the tigers and the wild dogs avoided him as he could be
most bad tempered. ‘I’ve been sent by the other bears only because I had nothing better to do. Will this
take long?’ ‘As long as it takes, it will take,’ Saahoom said. He turned to Coolclear. ‘We’d better start.
When others come we can pass on the word.’ He moved to the centre of the clearing, making sure he
didn’t step on Mons the mongoose or Anhil the squirrel or Lorri, the Loriss, which had descended from
the tree. It was aslender, delicate creature with large inquisitive eyes, big ears and a soft grey coat.
Overhead, the branches bowed under the weight of hawks, parrots, koels, mynahs, woodpeckers,
pigeons, sparrows, doves, bulbuls. Even though each species had sent only a couple of representatives,
there were so many of them that the trees were crowded. At the end of one branch, directly over
Coolclear’s head, a very black crow with red eyes settled. It had landed heavily, teetered a bit and then
regained its balance. Across from it, on the opposite tree, two crows noticed its landing. ‘Who’s that?’
one of them asked the other. ‘I’ve not seen him before.’ ‘How would I know who that is? It’s a very big
jungle and I don’t know every crow in it.’ Many miles away, Varang, dressed in a black silk dressing gown
piped with red, painting her toe nails purple, watched her giant television screen. Her bird was
transmitting the images. She saw the gathering below it—only the tops of heads—and wondered what
it was about. She had never seen a tiger sit beside a deer or panther crouch beside a boar. And the
children … she counted fourteen in view. Only Latrommi could have been responsible for this harmony
among such natural enemies. She whispered, ‘Look around, look around. Find Latrommi, you stupid
bird.’ She moved the joystick on her control box and the crow craned its head around. She saw more
branches, an elephant, a snake and more trees. So far, no Latrommi in sight.

A SPY WATCHES

Coolclear heard Latrommi whisper in his head, ‘Look for a spy, someone who doesn’t belong among
you.’ In turn, he whispered the message to Blue Stone who passed the whisper on around to the other
children. They each looked at their neighbours. Was it perythala? Was it Saahoom? Was it the Black
Panth? Was it the Baaloo? They looked innocently familiar, they were not capable of such a betrayal, it
wasn’t in their nature. As Coolclear looked up at the birds, a bird dropping missed him by a fraction.
‘Before we start, I’d prefer the birds sat on the ground,’ Baayyy, who’d also dodged a dropping, said.
‘We’ll all be splattered white and smelly before the meeting is over.’ ‘We’re comfortable where we are,’
Keee said for all the birds. ‘And we will try to control our habits but don’t take too long.’ ‘We will sit
between those who are enemies,’ Coolclear announced. In that way, the children could keep looking out
for the spy amongst them. The clearing was circular and the children scattered to sit between the tigers
and Poineer, between Black Panth and Grunt, between Snapsnap and Saahoom. Just then they heard a
rush of hoof beats as someone crashed through the undergrowth towards them. They all turned in the
direction of the sound. A long moment later, Gaaah, the gaur, ran through the bushes and skidded to a
halt. He was a massive fellow, thrice the height of a child, with a brownish black coat and a white patch
on his forehead. He was about the weight of a large boulder. He had powerful shoulders and on his head
were curved horns. perythala licked his lips, he’d never tasted buffalo in his life and he imagined what a
tasty meal the gaur would make. Unfortunately, the gaur was too powerful even for a tiger. They moved
in a herd and should a tiger think of attacking they would form a circle, their horns pointing outwards
towards the tiger. perythala turned away, sighing at such a missed pleasure. ‘Am I late? Is the meeting
over? What was decided?’ He spoke quickly in a deep bass voice, still panting away. ‘We’re just about to
start,’ Coolclear said. ‘Is there anyone else coming?’ ‘I passed Loneorn. He was moving very slowly and
had lost his way. So I told him to follow me but then he lost his way again. He’ll get here eventually.’ ‘I’ll
go and get him,’ Grey said, always wanting to be helpful. She jumped up and ran in the direction Gaaah
had come. She knew rhinos were so near-sighted that once they were lost they could remain that way
for days, and they were also forgetful, so probably Loneorn had forgotten why he was moving in this
direction. ‘Now you all know why you are here,’ Saahoom continued, annoyed to have been interrupted
by late arrivals. Every animal, bird and insect stayed silent to listen to him. He was the oldest and wisest
of them all. ‘There’s a threat to us all from the man animals across the river. We will lose our homes, we
will lose our feeding grounds, we will lose our freedom and we lose the right to live our lives as we
always have. We will all die, which is what they want. None of us are afraid of death, this is part of the
natural order in our world. But to be destroyed needlessly is not part of the natural order. When they
wipe out the jungle they wipe out all the plants and herbs which cure us when we are not well. There
will no longer be any trees to rest under or fruit to eat. The man animal will kill the trees, which have
harmed no one. They will also kill the water that we drink and it then kills us, as if we are to blame for
what the man animal did to it. We all know they have come before and stolen little pieces of us. We
have been killed before, one at a time, not to feed them, which we understand, as that is how we all
survive, but for the beauty we possess. I do not know what they do with my long teeth, I do not know
what they do with the coat of a tiger, I do not know what they do with the skin of a snake. I do not know
why we’re killed for these things we possess. Lucky are those who don’t possess anything that the man
animal wants.’ Saahoom paused. ‘The man animal believes he is superior to us and that we, and
everything in this jungle, are not necessary for his own survival. His only superiority to us is his ability to
kill us from a long distance, or so I believe. Otherwise, he shows no other superiority though he believes
he alone has the power of thought.’

THE WAR PLANS

It was the longest speech Saahoom had ever given. He fell silent, believing he had spoken for them all.
The others remained silent too, nodding their heads, twitching their tails, fluttering their feathers as
their signs of agreement. ‘So what do we do then?’ Keee asked. ‘Fight them,’ perythala said,
remembering how close he had been to losing his mate. ‘Yes, we’re going to fight them,’ Coolclear spoke
for all the children. ‘We too are a part of the jungle, just like all of you. You are our neighbours and
friends. We too will die when this jungle is destroyed, because we have no other home.’ ‘But you can go
and live with the man animals in their crowded places,’ Chief Korung said. ‘They will accept you as one
of them.’ ‘No, they will not,’ Yellow Rose said firmly. ‘They will know we’re from the jungle and don’t
know their cunning ways. They won’t want us among them as we’re strangers, and they will kill us. Even
if they don’t, how will we live in the Crowded Place? They use something called ‘money’ which feeds
them. We have a little of it, but in the jungle, we don’t need a lot. Like you all, we live off the jungle, we
eat its fruits and vegetables, we eat its herbs, we too heal ourselves with the plants, we drink the same
water and rest in the shade of the same trees.’ ‘Sooo, then how do we fight? I’m not afraid of dying,’
Spotto, the leopard, whispered from his place above their heads. He lay on a thick branch, tail dangling,
the spotted sunlight on his coat making him almost invisible, and when he spoke, Chief Korung and his
nephew leapt up to higher branches and screamed their fright. He had crept in so quietly, so swiftly, that
they hadn’t noticed him. ‘None of us are afraid,’ perythala snapped, standing, bristling, taking it as a
personal insult to his bravery. ‘Let’s not argue amongst ourselves,’ Coolclear shouted above the uproar
of agreement. ‘Only by remaining united can we win this fight. We will be helped too by the power of
Latrommi. It will guide us because its enemy is out there too. First of all, I will be crossing the river to
attack their machines.’ ‘You shouldn’t go alone,’ Saahoom said. ‘One of us should go with you too.’ ‘My
nephew here, Kotung, will accompany you,’ Chief Korung prodded his nephew forward. He was a sleek,
silvery young monkey with a dark face and beautiful long tail. ‘They’re used to seeing us among them
and won’t pay attention to him.’ ‘I’ll send my brother,’ Chief Roh the Rhesus monkey said quickly, not
wanting to be upstaged by Chief Korung’s tribe. He was a powerful, brown-furred monkey, also with
many scars, and savage teeth.

‘Two will be enough, but thank you,’ Coolclear said. ‘And I will come along,’ Keee said. ‘I can keep watch
from my height.’ ‘And us,’ the Crow said and looked across to see whether the stranger crow would
agree. But it remained silent, turning this way and that, looking down, around, up and down. ‘I should
be with you too,’ Blue Stone whispered. ‘No, you and the others must prepare for the fight here.’ He
paused. ‘Our first line of defence is the water that flows around us. I will speak to BigBigsnout when I
see him. He and his people will attack those who try to cross by boats. If any should survive the first
attack, and reach the jungle, then Hisssking and his people will be waiting for them. Big people are very
afraid of your people.’ ‘We are even more afraid of them than they of us,’ both snakes replied. ‘They
beat us to death or even while we live and breathe they strip off our skins so as not damage its beauty
and we die in agony. They don’t care how they hurt us, they never hear our screams of fear and pain.’
‘We’re all afraid of man,’ everyone chorused, filling the air with their painful memories. ‘So are we,’
Coolclear spoke for the children, nodding their heads vigorously. ‘We are of their species but we cannot
kill and destroy the way they do. Despite our fears we must fight them or we’ll all die.’ He returned to
Hiss. ‘How many will be with you?’ ‘I haven’t counted,’ Hisssking said crossly, ‘but as many as we can
get. There are probably as many of our people as there are trees in this jungle.’ ‘But we don’t want to
waste our precious juices on them,’ Yellowblackhisss spoke in a silken whisper. ‘We need it to feed
ourselves.’ ‘Just use a little to frighten them,’ he looked around. ‘Where’s Skaa, has he come?’ ‘Here,’
Skaa said in a harsh tone, edging out of the grass. He was a King Scorpion, the size of a man’s hand, black
as the night. His red-tipped tail wavered high in the air behind him. ‘They are afraid of your people too,’
Coolclear said. ‘So you should be with Hisssking just along this side of the water. As they step into the
jungle you all attack them.’ ‘Oh good,’ Skaa said. ‘I don’t mind wasting my precious juice if it’s going to
protect the jungle, unlike some other people I know.’ ‘When I bite, they die,’ Yellow hiss hissed, angry
that he should be insulted by a scorpion. ‘When you bite they only feel pain …’ ‘A terrible pain …’ Skaa
chuckled. ‘And it can kill too.’ ‘That’s enough,’ Blue Stone scolded. ‘We children will be with you and we
will carry bows and arrows and sling shots to attack the men. But there are not many of us. Korung and
all his tribes will attack them from the branches up high.’ He turned to the old chief. ‘You must gather
stones and store them up in the trees and drop them on the men. The bigger the better, let it be a
thunderstorm of stones.’ ‘What about us, what about us, what about us?’ the chorus rose from all
sides—Snapsnap, Saahoom, perythala, Spotto. Growls, grunts, trumpeting, hisses, squeaks. Coolclear
held up his hand, silence slowly settled. They waited. Coolclear listened to the voice in his head before
speaking. ‘We know why we’re in this war, which is the most important point of it and we’re fighting it
together and not alone. We also know the jungle, our home, its ways, its mysteries, its strengths and
dangers. They know nothing of all this at all. And in a war, we must have unexpected surprises. You
Snapsnap and your tribe can move swiftly, so you will roam and attack those men who get through our
first lines. Be quick, hit them hard and then vanish. The same with perythala, quick, in and out, so you
are not harmed. While the others like Saahoom and his tribe use weapons, great branches, to attack
those who come even further in. Loneorn and his tribe will be with you to gore those who escape your
attacks.’ He paused, listening again. ‘They will return across the river but … and this is important … they
will return. They’ll want us to believe we’ve won and we’ll disperse so they’ll wait. We must wait too for
the second attack.’ He looked up the birds. ‘You are our eyes and you must tell us every move they
make so we can be ready for any surprises. The jungle has protected us all our lives, now we must
protect the jungle with our lives.’ There was a long silence when Coolclear stopped. Each animal,
serpent, insect and bird mulled over his words. ‘What about us?’ Buuzzz the wasp asked in a buzzing
voice. ‘You will attack when they have just crossed the river,’ Coolclear said. ‘While Hisssking and Skaa
are on the ground you bring in every one of your tribe and sting them.’ ‘Good,’ Buuzzz said. ‘I thought
you’d forgotten about us.’ The birds flew away first, a great cloud of them darkening the sky, crows,
parrots, brilliantly plumed woodpeckers and kingfishers. They wheeled high above and flew towards the
river. The animals slid back into the jungle. Just then Grey entered the clearing, riding Loneorn. He had
been lost and it had taken her a long time to track him down. Coolclear explained what the meeting had
been about and his role in the war and the rhino nodded his head sagely. ‘We will join you in this battle,
though there are not many of us left,’ he spoke in gruff grunts. ‘We may as well all die in this war than
be killed one by one only for the horn on our faces. They kill us, cut it off and leave our bodies to rot
away and be eaten by the vultures and jackals. What do they do with this very small piece of us, we
wonder always?’ He sighed heavily, thinking of his cousins and brothers who had been killed by the man
animal, then turned to Grey. ‘You better show me the way home now. I’m not used to traveling so far
away. I’ll gather my people and you can lead us to where we must stand and fight.’ She gently took him
by his single, fierce horn, turned him around and pulled him along behind her back into the jungle. As
the children returned to the Glade, which was a few hundred metres away along a winding path through
the undergrowth, the black bird with red eyes flew down to the ground and hopped along behind them.
They didn’t notice it following them. Its hops were more like kangaroo hops, not as delicate as a bird’s,
but as if a tight spring triggered its jumps. Keee spread his great wings and was about to fly away when it
noticed the black bird. He watched for a moment, as it followed the children, whispering among
themselves. What a strange bird, Keee thought. It can’t even walk properly. Instead of flying up to the
blue sky, Keee glided down to the ground and walked behind the hopping black bird. What’s stranger,
Keee thought, is that it doesn’t even notice me following it. Most birds are afraid of me and would have
flown away shrieking in fear. Keee now loomed over the black bird. The bird barely reached Keee’s
ankles and though his shadow fell across the bird, it kept hopping after the children. It didn’t look left or
right either, and it didn’t make any sound. Keee bent and pecked it gently on its back. It kept hopping,
not even noticing the touch from the curved wicked beak. Keee tapped it harder. It stumbled at the peck
but kept hopping. It didn’t turn to see Keee looming over it. Keee, remembering the message the
children had passed around about a spy, Keee grabbed the black bird by its neck with his beak. ‘Look at
what I’ve found,’ Keee said in a muffled voice, his mouth full of the bird. It didn’t even struggle. ‘It was
following you.’ The children turned and stood in a circle around Keee and the still bird. Coolclear
touched it gently. ‘They are feathers,’ he said. ‘Very silky and very soft. And it has strange eyes.’ He
placed an ear against the body. ‘It’s inside beats but very slowly. It’s not afraid.’ ‘Let’s see what it is,’
Keee said. He dropped it on the ground. It struggled to stand but not for long. Keee jumped on it with
his claws and ripped it apart, tearing away the covering and breaking into its body. If they expected
blood, they were disappointed. Inside was a kind of machine they’d never seen before. One of the
children picked up a tiny, square, shiny object. Coolclear took it, wondered what it was doing in the bird
and bit into the microchip to find out how it tasted. He spat it out.

TRAPPED UP A TREE

Varang had not seen Coolclear’s face too clearly when he had peered into the bird’s eyes. It had been
distorted as the zoom in the birdeyes couldn’t adjust quickly, so all she saw was a large nose, an eye and
a blurred open mouth. Her television screen spluttered, then went blank. Varang wasn’t surprised by
the death of her bird. She’d miss it though, as it had been her special creation. An experiment that
worked. She could create another one, she could create anything. She could even create a baby and
none would be any wiser that it wasn’t a real baby. Varang was a super linguist and spoke every human
language from Inuit to Indonesian but she hadn’t understood a word that had been spoken among the
animals, children and the birds and insects. She guessed that they planned to defend the jungle. Why
else would natural enemies, the hunter and the hunted, the tiger and the deer, the eagle and the rabbit,
sit down side by side? She smiled. Their efforts would be futile, the jungle would be cleared and rid of
such vermin. Then she would find Latrommi, standing all alone, defenceless. She went into the bedroom
to check the shiny metal case, about the size of a coffin, standing upright next to her closet. The case
was made of titanium and the inside was lined with foam rubber and velvet. There was a hollow, about
the size of Latrommi, with metal titanium straps on either side. Once she captured it, she would lock it in
the case and carry it away to her castle. Then she would have control of everything. She brooded for a
long moment, plucking at her lower lip, wondering whether she should tell Bhask about what she
guessed the animals and children planned to do. He wasn’t a brave man and didn’t expect any
resistance. He would be used to animals and birds fleeing from his machines or being killed by his
hunters. It would be over quickly, at least, that’s what he would be thinking. He would be thinking too of
how much richer he would be when the jungle was cleared and he could start building. Varang was
contemptuous of those who pursued money alone. She knew its worth but she was more interested in
increasing her power. ‘Where’s my breakfast, you idiots?’ she screamed. There was no scramble of
footsteps from her two servants. She remembered then, she had sent them out into the jungle to
capture a child. It had not occurred to them to prepare breakfast and leave it for her to heat up in the
microwave. She always had a big breakfast. Normally she ate scrambled eggs , bacon, sausages,
mushrooms and tomato along with five slices of toast. This was followed by black coffee. But all she
could make was coffee—boil water, dump in a spoon of instant and stir. She sipped her coffee, her
stomach rumbling and empty, and stood in front of the television screen. She clicked her fingers and the
screen came to life. Now where were they? She had implanted them too with microchips (without their
knowledge) so she could always track their movements and know what they were up to. She saw the
jungle in the early, grey light as they stumbled through it. They made enough noise to waken the dead
and probably frightened every creature for miles. She heard them calling out ‘Come children, come
children, we have a delicious chocolate cake for you …’ and she saw Sasa holding out the cake in front as
if it were a protective shield. She doubted the children knew or had tasted chocolate cake; no doubt
they were savages living off roots and fruit and raw meat. Then to her surprise, and to the surprise of
Sasa and Kal, a child stepped in front of them. It was a small girl and she smiled at Sasa and Kal and
stretched out her hand. But as they ran towards the child, she vanished and instead of her were two
massive tigers. Even Varang stepped back in fear as they snarled. Sasa dropped the cake and all she
could see was the tree trunk they scrambled up. Once they reached a branch, they looked down at the
two tigers. The tigers sniffed at the cake, then snarled up at Sasa and Kal. She heard them jeering at the
tigers from the safety of their height ‘Yah, yah, stupid tigers, can’t get us, yah yah ...’ Then they plucked
the tree’s fruit—small mangoes—and started to throw them at the tigers. The tigers didn’t move but
stared up malevolently, and then their gaze shifted to something behind Sasa and Kal. They noticed the
shift, and Varang waited for them to turn around. On the next branch crouched a leopard. It revealed
wicked teeth, its tail twitched. It moved silently towards them. ‘Climb higher you idiots,’ Varang
shouted. And she heard a ‘yes mistress’ in shaky voices. Sasa and Kal scrambled further up the tree, as
the leopard took a swipe at them, just missing Sasa’s leg. In their fear and panic they nearly fell. They
battled with each other to climb even faster. They didn’t stop climbing until they reached the very top of
the tree. When they looked down again, the tigers and the leopard had vanished. She heard their loud
sighs of relief. But she knew this was the work of Latrommi. The child, the tigers and the leopard had
worked together. She was impatient for Bhask to start his work. She went out, the sun was just clearing
the tops of the trees. It was a beautiful sight, with the river turning to pale gold, but Varang had no time
for such sights. She turned towards slope up the road. She counted ten bulldozers, giant yellow
machines with huge polished steel blades. They would easily cut a swathe through the undergrowth
once the trees were cut down. There were also four loaders, also huge yellow machines, each with a
long telescopic rod with an evil hook dangling at the end. When a tree was felled, the men would tie
steel ropes around the trunk, hook the ropes into the hook, and the loaders would lift the trunk and
bring it in to load onto a logging truck. On a pick-up truck nearby were fifteen chainsaws, ready to eat
into the trees. All the machines were surrounded by men oiling and tuning them up, readying them to
destroy the jungle. ‘How are you going to get these machines across the river?’ she asked Bhask who
was lounging in a deck chair in the shade of his RV. It was a much smaller, less luxurious vehicle. A boy,
serving him a snack out of a silver dish, stood and waited. ‘I own military landing crafts,’ he said
patiently. ‘My men will drive the bulldozers onto it, the craft will cross the river and land it in the jungle.’
There was no physical obstacle he could not overcome as long as there was money to be made. Then
added condescendingly. ‘It’s easy, just leave it to me. I’ll have the jungle cleared within two weeks.’
Varang smiled to herself at his tone. She didn’t tell him that it would be harder than he thought and
that he would need her help. ‘And when will you start?’ she asked sweetly. ‘Soon, Madam, soon. Be
patient. You will have an empty landscape in front of you soon.’

CROSSING THE RIVER

It was night, and Coolclear stood beside Kotung as they looked across the wide river. Coolclear carried
the small pouch made of banyan leaf around his waist. When he stood on his hind legs, Kotung was as
tall as Coolclear. Thankfully, unlike his uncle, Kotung wasn’t at all nervous or jumpy. He possessed an air
of handsome calm and, in the pale moonlight, his silvery coat glowed. Coolclear knew that one day he
would fight his uncle for the leadership of the tribe and, being younger and stronger, would win it. This
was why Chief Korung had so quickly volunteered him to cross the river with Coolclear. No doubt Chief
Korung hoped Kotung wouldn’t return, ever. Coolclear thought he would make a fine friend on this
adventure. On the opposite side they saw the flicker of camp fires. ‘How do we cross?’ Kotung asked. ‘I
can swim but it is a great distance.’ Coolclear didn’t answer but instead went down to the river’s edge.
He knelt and tapped hard on the water, waited a moment or two, then tapped hard again. The taps sent
small ripples out across the water and down into its dark depths. He remained standing close to the
water, letting it lap his feet. Kotung waited, studying the surface, and finally saw larger ripples
approaching the shore. Involuntarily, knowing what came, he took a few steps back. He first saw the
wicked snout then the head of a large crocodile surfaced and came to rest on the river bank. The rest of
the beast remained in the water so Kotung couldn’t judge how large he was. His eyes, vertical slits, saw
Coolclear and then shifted across to Kotung. He had wicked teeth and though his mouth remained
closed two savage incisors on either side glittered like small daggers. His gaze shifted back to Coolclear.
‘Oh, it’s you.’ He spoke in a low, growly hiss, more of a vibratio‘I want you to carry us across,’ Coolclear
replied in the same low hiss. ‘Him too?’ BigBigsnout, the crocodile, asked, eyeing Kotung. He’d not eaten
a monkey in a long time; they were too wary and quick. ‘Without harming him. He’s my friend. You
know we had a meeting?’ ‘Yes, I heard,’ BigBigsnout said. ‘But I notice I wasn’t invited to it.’ ‘You were
too, everyone in the jungle was invited,’ Coolclear said. ‘You were just too lazy to get out of the water
and come to it.’ ‘It was a long way to walk,’ BigBigsnout admitted. ‘It’s dangerous on the other side. The
man animal is making a mess of our water. Already the water tastes strange and bitter in parts. They
wash those giant machines in the river and poison us. And some of the man animals are pointing long
sticks at us and trying to kill us.’ Coolclear and Kotung scooped up a handful of water and tasted it.
There was a strong, slimy bitter taste to it. They spat it out. And it used to be sweet and clean. ‘Don’t
they need water too?’ Kotung asked. ‘Without water we will all die,’ Coolclear said. ‘You know as well as
I do that we can live without food for many days but not even one day without water.’ ‘Then why are
they killing the water?’ ‘I don’t know. But water will have its revenge on them one day when they need
it most and they cannot drink it without dying. They don’t understand the world we all live in. The jungle
too is a part of their world, yet they want to destroy it and kill us all. That’s why they want to cross. We
are going to attack them.’ ‘With only the monkey?’ BigBigsnout said cynically. ‘We’re helpless against
them and their machines and long sticks.’ ‘No, we have our own weapons and we will defeat them.’
‘And then what? There are countless others, they come in evil waves to destroy everything that’s
precious to us.’ ‘Then we’ll fight them too.’ And he told BigBigsnout what he and his people would have
to do in this coming battle. ‘Are we going to stand here all night and talk or are we going to cross?’
Kotung asked. ‘Impatient, isn’t he?’ BigBigsnout said. ‘And we don’t want to be stranded on that side.
We’ll need a ride back.’ ‘And maybe a sightseeing trip up and down the river too,’ BigBigsnout said
sarcastically. His eyes settled on the leaf pouch that Coolclear hung on his waist, and he took a deep
breath to find out what was in it. ‘What’s that?’ ‘Chips of a special stone.’ ‘What’s it supposed to do?
Protect you from their long sticks?’ ‘No, but it will stop their machines,’ and he didn’t tell BigBigsnout
from where he had learned that ‘if I put a chip into the liquid that drives the machines, they will not
work ...’ ‘I don’t know who told you that but I know nothing will stop them,’ BigBigsnout said
pessimistically, believing he was wiser than the child. He clambered up the shore to turn. He was a huge
beast, at least forty paces long from nose to tail and his body was wide as a small boat’s. One flick of his
powerful tail could have killed them both. Coolclear straddled his neck and Kotung crouched behind,
keeping a tight grip on Coolclear. ‘Remind him not to dive,’ Kotung whispered. ‘I heard that. I’m not
deaf,’ BigBigsnout said and waddled towards the water. He entered it without a ripple and began
swimming towards the opposite bank. ‘I’ll swim downstream and land you in the rushes some distance
from those lights. Then you won’t be seen by anyone in the camp.’ CAUGHT IN THE ACT The air above
the water was chilly, and they shivered, longing for the heat of their jungle. The sky was so clear they
could see almost every star. They both felt they were adrift in the world as they moved serenely across
the river. If anyone had looked at the river they would have seen the strange sight of a boy and a
monkey sitting on the water and floating across magically. BigBigsnout let the current move them
downstream. ‘How many of you are there?’ Coolclear asked him. ‘About seventy at the last count. We
will attack their boats, though they use their long sticks which make a terrible noise and kill us. But
they’re careful not to damage our skins so they try to trap us with ropes, drag us onto land and then cut
our throats.’ He sighed loudly. ‘I’m getting too old. I no longer understand the world. Why did they enter
our world? I remember many, many years ago, too long for anyone else except my people to remember,
that there were no human animals on earth. None. Everything was only jungle and there were many,
many other kinds of animals and birds who are no longer with us. I don’t know how or why we have
survived for so many countless years when all those we knew vanished. New kinds of neighbours took
their place but they are not as interesting as those old neighbours. Some were tall as the sky and the
earth shook when they moved. There were birds much bigger than Keee the eagle, he’s the size of a
chick compared to them. They’ve gone too. Where did they go to? You’re a man animal, you tell me.’ ‘I
don’t know,’ Coolclear said. ‘Like you, I’m only of the jungle and not of their world.’ BigBigsnout, who
was one of the longest surviving creatures from the very beginning of earth’s time, was nostalgic for
dinosaurs and brontosaurs, pretrglyds and mammoths. His memory was deep in him and it had taught
him how to survive all the upheavals since that Jurassic age. ‘Then where did the man animal come
from? You must know that.’ ‘I heard from Latrommi that we, like you, came out of the sea. We were first
like Kotung then we changed to become us.’ Coolclear puzzled over this trick, frowning away at the
nearing shore. ‘I don’t know how that happened either. There’s so much we don’t know.’ ‘We don’t look
alike,’ said Kotung, who had been listening closely and was a bit disconcerted to hear that he was
related to Coolclear. Coolclear turned to glimpse Kotung’s frown. ‘We are related. We began to walk on
our legs and have now forgotten how to use all four, the way you do.’ ‘I can walk too,’ Kotung said
indignantly. ‘Not for great distances, though. I’ve been to the crowded place, I went there when I was
little with my people, when there was no rain and there was no fruit on the trees. The crowded place
was a bad jungle, filled with noise, dirt, countless man animals and lights that shone all night.’ He
shuddered dramatically. ‘When the rains came after the long summer we returned home.’ The shore
loomed out of the darkness and BigBigsnout slowed. He glided in the last few feet and clambered
through the rushes. Coolclear hopped off first, ankle deep in the water, and helped Kotung to leap clear
and land on solid earth. BigBigsnout slid back into the river. ‘When you want me, let me know. I’ll be
lying at then.bottom but not far off.’ Without a ripple he slipped under, and Kotung was reminded what
dangers lay beneath this life-giver. ‘Come on,’ Coolclear whispered, and set off quietly up the river bank,
angling towards the camp. Kotung loped beside him, all his senses straining to hear, smell or see the
dangers ahead. They both moved with barely a sound, light as feathers when their feet touched the
ground. There wasn’t much cover for them, mostly lantana bushes, thorny and tough, and long grass.
Whatever trees had grown on this side of the river had been hacked down and the earth was dusty and
fine without the protective covering. The same thought occurred to both of them: soon, unless they
succeeded, this would happen to their beautiful jungle too. As they crept closer to the camp, they heard
voices, singing, coarse laughter. Nearby, standing apart, was the large machine. It was more like a
house, Coolclear thought, except it had wheels. The door was firmly closed and it was silent. Further
away was another house on wheels, smaller and older. The door was open, spilling out a rectangle of
light and he heard voices from within. Still further were temporary shelters built out of thatch. Men
lounged outside them, eating and drinking, passing a bottle between them. Then he saw the two boys,
moving among them, serving out food. They were smaller than him, and what made him angry and sad
was that they were tied together. The rope was attached to the left leg of one and to the right leg of the
other. This would prevent them from running away. He wanted to charge across and free them from
such humiliation but knew it would be futile. He would have to wait for the right time. The machines
Coolclear looked for were on the far side, higher up the slope. He changed direction. Kotung sniffing the
breeze, wrinkled his nose at the stale odour of the man animals. These animals were more dangerous
than any tiger or leopard. They circled higher up the slope, passing like shadows between the bushes,
until they reached the first machine. It was so huge that the wheels were bigger than Coolclear. He had
never seen such a machine and imagined that it would be invincible, except Latrommi had told him how
to kill it. There were nine others standing beyond it, all of them pointing towards the river and the
jungle. He knew they could tear the jungle to pieces. ‘Where do we put in the stones’ Kotung asked.
‘There will be a cover. I’ve seen them on the smaller machines on the road.’ They circled it now, looking
for the cap. It was there, on a large cylindrical tank, and Coolclear scrambled up the metal steps to squat
on the cylinder. Kotung landed on the cylinder with a single leap. Very cautiously, Coolclear unscrewed
the cap. The scraping seemed unnaturally loud to his ears and Kotung winced too, with every squeak.
Once it was opened, Kotung sniffed at the smell that rose from the cylinder, it reminded him of the
smells in the crowded place, foul. Coolclear carefully opened his leaf pouch, pinched out one tiny chip of
Latrommi, dropped it into the cylinder, then replaced the cap. They climbed on the next machine, and
repeated their actions. They went from machine to machine, like ghosts, quiet as shadows. As he
jumped down from one of the machines, a man grabbed his leg and Coolclear fell heavily, taken by
surprise. The man had been lying under the machine. THE CHASE Varang sat in her RV, the only
illumination was the television screen. All she could see on the screen was dark shadows and leaves,
nothing else. She had left Kal and Sasa high in the tree and now she wanted them back. It would be
dangerous for them to climb down and make their way through the jungle. She whispered to them
‘Climb down.’ ‘We’re afraid,’ they both quavered. ‘We can hear the tigers below and we can’t see the
leopard but we think it’s waiting on the lower branches. They all sound hungry and angry.’ Sasa began to
weep. ‘You must use your powers to get us back safely without being eaten up.’ Varang sighed in
irritation. ‘Alright but I hate wasting them on the likes of you both. I will send a yellow light to your
branch. What you must do is take hold of it, like a rope, and slide along it until you reach me.’ She went
out of the RV. She could hear the coarse men laughing and drinking, their voices slurring. They would
probably kill each other when they cut down the trees, she thought. Otherwise, it was quiet, the huge
machines were silhouetted against the night sky. She walked down to the river’s edge and
concentrating her mind, pointed her finger across the river to the jungle. The yellow beam spun out of
her finger tip and crossed the water. It shot through the branches, cutting some off, as it made its way
towards Kal and Sasa. When it reached them, it embedded itself into the trunk of the tree, burning a
black hole into the wood. Sasa reached for it first, fighting off Kal. The beam was cool, almost ice-cold,
and when she tentatively stepped off the branch it sagged under her weight and she let out a scream.
Below a tiger growled, the leopard hissed its frustration, knowing the two were escaping. They had
been ordered by the girl child to prevent this happening but there was little they could do. The human
animal was sliding along something strong, yet so thin they could not see it and the human animals were
laughing at them. The leopard climbed up the trunk to a branch, nearer the other man animal, hoping to
at least catch this one. ‘Hurry up,’ Kal shouted, ‘move quicker. It’s coming for me.’ He didn’t wait, even
though Sasa was only a few feet down the light, dangling in mid-air, desperately holding on and trying to
slide along the beam. The leopard reached the branch just below, rose and took a swipe at Kal’s leg,
missing by a fraction. He leapt and caught the beam of light, it sagged now with Kal’s added weight. The
leopard growled in frustration and said to the tiger below. ‘They’ve escaped. Tell the child.’ Kal and Sasa
slid as quickly as they could along the light beam. They stumbled into branches, crashed against trunks,
swung out of the reach of the monkeys that screeched and tried to grab them. Soon, they were clear of
the jungle, laughing at their escape, sliding over the water, lower and lower as they neared Varang.
Their feet skimmed the water and then they both screamed and pulled up their legs as fast as possible.
Two crocodiles rose out of the water and snapped at the air where their legs had been dangling. Varang
waited until they were near the edge of the bank, then switched off the light. They crashed down,
tumbling over and over, half in the water, half on the land. They scrambled on all fours to escape the
water and ended up, panting, at Varang’s feet. ‘I’m hungry,’ she said in greeting. ‘Now go and make my
dinner.’ Behind her, there was a burst of laughter and men calling out to each other. She saw them
running around, falling over each other. ‘What is it?’ she asked. ‘We think we may have caught
something,’ one of them shouted back. She peered through the dark shadows to see what they were
chasing. The creature hopped and ran, astutely dodging their stumbling efforts. She turned away, it was
only a monkey. What childish men, she thought, and returned to looking at the jungle with hungry eyes.
NO ESCAPING VARANG Kotung loped easily ahead of the drunken men. Now and then he would pause,
waiting for them to get nearer, then lope away again. He even stopped and hurled a stone at them,
catching one on the chest, to anger and distract them. He was drawing them further and further away.
Coolclear heard Kotung distracting the others as he struggled to free himself from the man gripping his
ankle. He twisted, turned and kicked out, but the man hung on tightly. Coolclear’s hands were free. He
removed the chip and pressed it hard against the base of his neck. He heard the man gasp in fright as
the boy he held vanished, although he still held his leg. The fright caused him to loosen his grip and
Coolclear rolled free. He jumped up and started to run. ‘Wait, wait,’ the man pleaded, speaking very
quickly, as he tried to find Coolclear. ‘I won’t harm you. I know now you’re a child of the jungle. I just
need to know—I had left my babies in the jungle. How are they?’ He waited, listening to the fading
shouts of the men. ‘Are you there? Please, I beg you, tell me if my babies are alive. I promise I won’t tell
anyone about you.’Coolclear removed the chip from the base of his throat. He reappeared suddenly
behind the man and startled him again. He cried out in fear. ‘Which were your babies?’ ‘There were two,
both boys. But they were born blind. We’re poor, we couldn’t afford to look after them. We left them in
the jungle, praying you children would find them and take care them. Are they alive?’ Coolclear didn’t
reply but instead watched the man carefully. So this was the Abal brothers’ father. Or so he claimed. For
a moment, he felt a pang of envy that they had a father who was so real. Not a prince or a king or a
warrior, as they all made believe their own fathers were, but a poor man remembering the sons he had
surrendered to the jungle. He wondered what his own father looked like, wondered where he was. Did
he mourn the loss of his son? Did he too remember him at all or was he completely forgotten? He was
in a dilemma how to answer the man waiting eagerly for his reply. No one had ever searched for or
enquired about the children. Would this man want the Abal brothers back, take them to the Crowded
Place? They were happy in the Glade, they were all tightly interknit with each other and he loved the
brothers. Yet he could not deny them this opportunity to reunite with their father. He could not lie
either. ‘Yes, they’re alive.’ Shyam almost cried in relief. ‘They must be grown now. How are they?’
‘They’re okay,’ Coolclear said, edging away, looking for Kotung. He had to finish what he had been sent
to do. He couldn’t fail the jungle. ‘Why are you with these people who want to destroy our jungle?’ ‘I’m
a poor man, I need the work and the money.’ ‘What have we done to harm them?’ ‘Nothing. They are
just greedy. Bhask becomes richer and richer. But I don’t know why the woman Varang is here. She
frightens me.’ He stood, at least a foot taller than Coolclear. ‘Yes, she is evil.’ He looked at the thin man.
‘Are you going to stop me or tell the others what I’m doing?’ ‘I don’t know what you’re doing but I will
help you. You must work quickly before they return. What is your name?’ ‘I have none.’ Coolclear
mounted the next machine, unscrewed the cap and dropped in a chip. He closed the cap, jumped down
and moved to the next machine. The man followed him. He felt uneasy, as he had never spoken to a
person from the Crowded Place for long. The children held onto their secrets, knowing their survival
depended on that. ‘Do they remember me?’ ‘No. How would they? They were babies when you left
them.’ ‘They’re happy, that’s all I want to know.’ ‘Yes.’ Coolclear wished the man would leave him alone.
He hurried from one machine to the other, the man helping, keeping a look out. Then he crept up to the
wicked chain saws and dropped a chip into each tank. Kotung suddenly leapt out of the dark and snarled
at the man with such ferocity that he fell down. He scrambled to pick up a stone to hurl at Kotung who
was now squatting beside Coolclear. ‘He is my friend,’ Coolclear stopped him. Then he turned to Kotung.
‘Where are they now?’ ‘Some distance. They’re mad, they cannot even run or walk without falling over.’
‘You speak to the monkey and he understands?’ the man asked. ‘We must go,’ Coolclear told the man,
ignoring the question. The chips were over, he had dropped one into every cylinder. But another five
chainsaws remained, and he would have to return. The man began to follow them. ‘No,’ Coolclear said
to him, ‘you must stay here. Who are those two small boys tied together?’ Shyam shrugged. ‘I don’t
know. They’re orphans too and were bought by Bhask to work for him. He does not treat them well at
all. You must take them with you.’ ‘We cannot, not this time. Another time.’ ‘Please, I beg you, take me
to meet my two sons. I will not take them back, I am a very poor man with nothing to offer them. Their
mother died last year and if I can see them I will be so happy.’ ‘That’s not possible,’ Coolclear said gently.
‘Goodbye.’ Coolclear and Kotung moved cautiously through the undergrowth, upstream to the reeds
where BigBigsnout would be waiting under the water. They looked back to see if the man was following
them and clearly heard his stealthy footsteps. He was, and they hurried, circling up the bank, away from
the river. He could not see nor hear as well as them and they soon heard his steps getting fainter and
fainter. They circled back down to the river. Varang saw the man searching the darkness, moving back
and forth, looking very suspicious as he began to edge down to the river. She recognized him, her
eyesight sharp as any animal in the night. He was the local man who knew about the children of the
jungle. Very quietly, she followed him. AIMING TO KILL Shyam heard footsteps following him and didn’t
turn around. It wasn’t a friend, he had none in this camp. It would be one of the others wanting to know
what he was doing out this late at night. He angled quickly away from the river, as if making his way
back to the road and Magalapur. He didn’t want anyone to find out that he’d actually spoken to a child
of the jungle, seen him, held him, heard him talking to a ferocious monkey which would have killed him.
He stumbled and nearly fell, it was so dark, and the lantana bushes scraped his skin, picked at his
threadbare clothing. ‘Stop.’ It was the woman, Varang’s voice. She frightened him with the sternness of
her voice, like a police person’s, so filled with authority. He didn’t obey her and, still not looking around,
hurried on. He began to run, ducking and dodging the bushes the best he could. ‘Stop.’ A strange thing
happened to Shyam. A force held him mid-stride. One foot was forward, the other stretched back and
no matter how hard he struggled he couldn’t move an arm or a leg. Yet he could see and hear, and
heard her coming up behind him. He couldn’t even turn his head. She came to stand in front of him, not
more than a foot away, and he could smell her perfume, a strong sweet smell, too sweet, as if to
counter the badness in her. ‘Where were you going?’ she asked, menace in her tone. He found he could
speak. ‘Home.’ He wanted to gesture towards the Magalapur but still couldn’t move his arm. ‘So late at
night? The poor man missing his wife and children? I do believe you’re lying. What were you doing?’ He
started to repeat himself but found himself staring into the black eyes. Her face was so white, and her
eyes seemed to grow larger and larger. They filled her face, blotted out the night sky behind her, they
seemed to devour him. He wanted to lie again to her, but the words wouldn’t tumble out of his mouth.
No matter how hard he tried. Other words nudged themselves past his tongue and through his lips. She
was forcing these new words out of him. ‘I … I … was searching …’ He struggled, knowing he must not
betray a child of the jungle but her eyes sucked the words out of him. ‘… for the boy.’ ‘Which boy?’ ‘A
boy. I do not know his name.’ ‘I didn’t ask for his name, you stupid man. Where does the boy belong?’
He wanted to say ‘Magalapur’ but the word wouldn’t slip off his tongue. It stuck there. ‘The jungle,’
forced itself out of his mouth. ‘You saw a child of the jungle here?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘What was he doing here?’ ‘He
was playing on the big machines.’ Shyam managed to avoid telling her what the boy had been doing,
perhaps because he himself didn’t know. ‘He came alone?’ ‘He was with a monkey.’ ‘Where are they
now?’ ‘I think they were going to the river.’ Varang spun away from the man and looked towards the
river. At first she only saw the sinewy flow of the water, in this light a pale silvery black, flecked here and
there with small waves. Then she saw the ripples in the middle of the river, trailing something moving
across towards the far bank, to the jungle. She moved slowly down the bank to the water’s edge. The
ripples were far upstream, moving diagonally. Now she saw them more clearly, two figures sitting, as if
on firm ground, but floating across the river. The one who sat in front looked like a small boy. The one
behind, with arms around the boy, holding on tightly, looked like a monkey. It had a faint silvery coat.
She wondered what they rode. She raised her arm slowly, as if raising a rifle, and aimed a finger at the
moving figures. At this distance, she wasn’t certain which of them she would kill—the boy or the
monkey. Possibly both, not that she cared. But as she shot the yellow light, her arm was grabbed by
someone from behind. The stupid man was clinging to her arm. She had forgotten him and in forgetting,
released him from his paralysed state. She tried to shake him off and push him away but he was holding
on too tightly. ‘You mustn’t harm them, please, you mustn’t harm them. They are very special, those
children of the jungle, we cannot kill them.’ ‘You fool,’ Varang pointed her finger at him. The light shot
out of her finger and hit him in the chest. He looked startled and surprised, his face twisting in pain, and
then he fell away from her to the ground. She turned back to the river quickly, lifting her arm again to
point. But the two figures had vanished and for a moment she wondered if she had imagined them
floating across the water.

But the man at her feet had seen them too, and had tried to protect them from her. When he woke he
would not remember anything of what had just happened. She smiled. She had killed the boy and the
monkey; her aim was still very good. THE DIVE BigBigsnout had sensed the splash of something powerful
just missing them. He had managed to speak only the word ‘Dive!’ to warn his passengers, before he
instinctively dived under water. Coolclear clung on the best he could, clamping his knees tightly against
BigBigsnout’s hard sides. Kotung could only hold tightly to Coolclear, praying he wouldn’t drown and
also praying that other crocodiles wouldn’t attack. BigBigsnout had some control over his tribe in this
part of the river but food was food and there were no laws to control that. Coolclear too held his breath,
peering through the dark water, praying another crocodile wouldn’t suddenly appear. BigBigsnout
surfaced soon enough, knowing his passengers couldn’t hold their breaths as long as he could. But he
was ready to dive again should he feel another threat. It was all quiet. They were near the bank anyway
and he came to rest against the land. They jumped off. Kotung shook his fur, splattering Coolclear even
further. ‘Thank you,’ Coolclear said to BigBigsnout, as BigBigsnout backed into the water and started to
turn. ‘That was very close. I’m going to stay under.’ ‘But you must keep a watch and we may need you to
attack the boats when they try to cross.’ ‘There is danger, I can tell you that. There always is when the
man animals gather. They enjoy killing us. They also enjoy killing each other for no reason at all.’ Kotung
was happy to be back on firm land. He leapt for the nearest low branch and swung up onto it. He
reached a paw down to help Coolclear up. ‘I’ll run,’ Coolclear said. ‘It will be safer. I cannot see as well as
you; I’ll miss a branch and fall.’ ‘I’ll follow,’ Kotung said. Coolclear was feeling very tired. He wanted to
find a warm little hollow and fall asleep. Sometimes, if they had strayed far from the Glade and they
were too tired to make the long journey back, the children would sleep out in the jungle, knowing that
no animal would attack or kill them. But they didn’t take chances and always slept deep in a hollow or
up on the broad branches of a tree. But tonight Coolclear wanted to be among the other children in the
Glade. He was still excited by his adventure and he would have a lot to tell them and Latrommi. He ran
lightly, scarcely disturbing a dry leaf or twig underfoot, zigzagging through the dense undergrowth,
leaping over fallen dead trees, jumping across ditches. When he looked up he saw Kotung swinging
gracefully from tree to tree keeping pace with him. He also startled scuttling mongooses, sleeping wild
pigs, jackals sniffing for a carcass, a herd of black buck resting, snakes sliding by in search of rats.
Overhead owls hooted warnings and the peacocks shouted ‘myuur … myuur’, all thinking he was a tiger
or a panther prowling. They leapt and scattered but stopped when they saw it was only a child of the
jungle. He heard a chorus of complaints: ‘You should give us warning … you scared us … what news do
you carry?’ For the last one, Coolclear replied, ‘I’ll tell you soon enough. Just be careful.’ It took him
nearly half the night to reach the Glade. In the distance, rising high above, was silhouetted the low
mountain, and he could see the crown of the fortress walls. He was so tired, all he wanted was to fall
into instant sleep. He glanced up at the trees, there was no sign of Kotung. He had gone in search of his
tribe who could be foraging far away. Coolclear expected to find all the children asleep, as he slipped
through the trunks of the trees to enter the Glade. Instead he found them all awake, or nearly all … the
younger ones and the babies had fallen asleep. They jumped up when they saw him and ran to hug him,
forming a small circle as they helped him stagger the last few steps. Yellow Rose rushed away to fetch
him a long cool drink of water and Blue Stone went to fetch him food—cold rice and a vegetable stew.
The others half carried him to lay him down on the softest patch of earth, a sandpit, which they had
created for the babies. They kept touching him, hugging him as they had half expected never to see him
again. He drank first, a clay pitcher of water, then ate a plateful of the cold rice and stew. It had never
tasted so good. He suspected the blind brothers had been the cooks that day. They had a special touch
with food. He told them all that happened—the way he and Kotung had crossed the river on the back of
BigBigsnout, how he had dropped the chips in the machines, the fright he had got when the man caught
hold of his ankle and the manner in which they had escaped. He did not mention that the man had
claimed to be the father of Abal and Abal and had wanted to see them. If he had consented, the man
would have disturbed the harmony between the children, triggered an envy that even now Coolclear
suppressed. He told them too about the two small boys chained together, working as slaves. The
children wanted to immediately rush there and rescue them from such a cruel fate. But when he told
them about the way BigBigsnout had dived into the water to save them from certain death from a long
stick fired from the camp, they fell silent. ANGRY ANIMALS ‘It wasn’t a long stick,’ Latrommi projected its
thoughts for all the children to hear. ‘That was Varang. I felt her evil. She wanted to kill you. What
you’ve done is good. They will have to get new machines and will guard them in case we should try
again.’ ‘If she’s a bad person can’t you kill her then?’ Yellow Rose asked. ‘I cannot kill, I cannot misuse
my power, even against someone like her. Even though I know she is here to get me.’ ‘But how did she
know you were here?’ Blue Stone wanted to know. ‘No one can find us in this jungle and they would not
know anything about you. We never talk about you at all to Big People.’ ‘It doesn’t matter how,’ and if
Latrommi could have shrugged, it would have. Although it did guess how Varang had found it. Stories of
the children’s games with the cars on the road and their command of so many languages would have
slowly seeped out far and wide. Varang would have guessed that this gift of tongues could only have
been given by Latrommi. And, of course, the presence of children, the proximity of animals. They were
always the natural companions of Latrommi. ‘Now you must all sleep and tomorrow we will decide what
we should do next.’ And even as Latrommi uttered the word ‘sleep’ the children grew drowsy. Not that
they needed any encouragement. They stumbled away up to their tree beds, not caring which one, and
lay down and fell instantly asleep. The next morning they all woke up, as usual, before the sun rose. Red
Beak, the parakeet, swooped down out of the clear sky to settle on Blue Stone’s shoulder. ‘What’s
happening across the river?’ the children asked in unison. Red Beak chuckled, a squawking, throaty
squeak. ‘They’re all fighting with each other. The machines will not start. A fat man animal is screaming
at the other man animals and a tall she-animal is shouting at him and pointing across the river. We’re all
watching to see what they will do and we’ll report back to you as soon as we see any changes.’ Red Beak
flew back up into the sky, swooping and calling to the others, wheeling away towards the distant river.
High above, Keee too kept watch. Even though they knew of the danger across the river, the children
went about their daily routine. It was Grey’s turn to cook, it was Blue Stone’s turn to fetch the water, it
was Moonight, a girl with a stump of an arm, who would teach the other small ones to read and to
write. They used the sand as slates, and copied from the tattered books she held up for them to see.
Others went to gather the herbs, harvest the rice, bathe, fish. It was Yellow Rose’s turn to care for the
three babies. Two of them had been found by the roadside two full moons ago. She was a good little
mother, playing with them, feeding them with mashed rice and honey, singing and talking to them.
While the two older ones responded with chuckles and smiles, the new one she had found by the river
in the reeds watched her with solemn eyes. It never cried with hunger like the other two, but it had the
biggest appetite. It seemed to have a bottomless stomach and whenever she offered it food, it bolted it
down. The other children, when it had been their turn to look after the babies, had also noticed its
appetite and its solemn eyes. While the children named the other two ‘Gurg-gurg’ and ‘Waa-waa’
because of their sounds, they did not know what to name the River baby because it was soundless. So
they named it Riveaby, knowing that one day, when it could talk, it would name itself. Coolclear
remained in the Glade, looking skywards. He waited for Keee to tell him what was happening across the
river. He was the safest spy, he would always remain so high up that he was out of reach of any long
sticks. But Coolclear worried about Varang. She had the powers to bring Keee tumbling out of the sky if
she suspected he was spying on them. He paced the Glade, glancing often at Latrommi. It remained
silent, although he frequently asked, ‘What should we do?’. He was impatient, waiting for the
excitement, dreaming of battling the forces and winning. But Latrommi had infinite patience. It was old,
it knew how to wait and to wait. Not just for a summer or a winter but for thousands of them. Finally, a
large winged shadow circled around the Glade. Coolclear looked up and saw Keee preparing to land, his
great wings spanning almost the whole Glade. Keee glided in, choosing an angle that gave him the most
space, landed gently and folded his great wings. ‘They are very angry man animals,’ he said, confirming
Red Beak’s report. ‘They have been trying to start their machines but they won’t work and fire comes
out of them. So they have been cursing and fighting with each other. I waited to see what they would do
and when I left them they were breaking up their machines to look inside them. I heard them talking
too. They have boats to cross the water with their smaller machines. The jungle will be theirs, so they
believe.’ All the children turned to Latrommi, expecting a response. It remained silent, as if it had fallen
asleep. Coolclear wondered whether it did sleep, it had to if it was so very, very old. ‘You must keep
watching,’ Coolclear told Keee. ‘And who’s going to feed me then?’ Keee said sarcastically, ‘If I keep
watch over them I’ll miss my lunch. I haven’t even had breakfast. Once I’ve eaten, I’ll circle back over
them,’ Keee said. Coolclear stepped back as Keee spread his wings. He flapped once with such power
that dust flew off the earth and the branches of the trees swayed and rustled, the children sheltered
behind trunks of trees. He rose slowly, majestically, circling already to avoid hitting the edges of the
Grove. He rose higher and higher, constantly circling until soon he was just a speck in the blue sky.

RETURNING THE BABY

choosing an angle that gave him the most space, landed gently and folded his great wings. ‘They are
very angry man animals,’ he said, confirming Red Beak’s report. ‘They have been trying to start their
machines but they won’t work and fire comes out of them. So they have been cursing and fighting with
each other. I waited to see what they would do and when I left them they were breaking up their
machines to look inside them. I heard them talking too. They have boats to cross the water with their
smaller machines. The jungle will be theirs, so they believe.’ All the children turned to Latrommi,
expecting a response. It remained silent, as if it had fallen asleep. Coolclear wondered whether it did
sleep, it had to if it was so very, very old. ‘You must keep watching,’ Coolclear told Keee. ‘And who’s
going to feed me then?’ Keee said sarcastically, ‘If I keep watch over them I’ll miss my lunch. I haven’t
even had breakfast. Once I’ve eaten, I’ll circle back over them,’ Keee said. Coolclear stepped back as
Keee spread his wings. He flapped once with such power that dust flew off the earth and the branches
of the trees swayed and rustled, the children sheltered behind trunks of trees. He rose slowly,
majestically, circling already to avoid hitting the edges of the Grove. He rose higher and higher,
constantly circling until soon he was just a speck in the blue sky. RETURNING THE BABY ‘I must return
the baby to where we found it,’ Coolclear said to the children, and picked up the sleeping baby. ‘I’ll
come with you,’ Yellow Rose said. ‘It’s a long walk and you won’t be able to carry it all alone.’ ‘So will I,’
Blue Stone chipped in quickly. He enjoyed the idea of a long stroll through the jungle, instead of a
morning spent gathering rice. ‘Be careful,’ all three of them heard Latrommi’s gentle whisper. ‘We will
be more careful from now on. We won’t let any Big People get near us.’ ‘We never do. We always hide
from them.’ As they strolled to the river they talked about the troubles facing them. They wondered
whether they would survive and what would happen to them if the forest was destroyed by the Big
People. They, like all their neighbours, did not have another home to go to, they too would vanish, along
with the tigers, elephants, buffaloes, jackals and all the others who had their homes here. They could
not live in the Crowded Place, it stifled them, frightened them, they could not survive there the way they
did in the jungle. They took turns carrying the baby and were surprised that it continued to sleep. That
was strange. Any baby would have woken up on being passed around between people, but this one’s
eyes were firmly closed, its breath steady and gentle. ‘It is beautiful,’ Yellow Rose said, looking down
and giving it a kiss. ‘Maybe Latrommi is wrong. It looks very much like any baby. Do you think we should
keep it?’ ‘No,’ Blue Stone said. ‘If Latrommi says to return it, then we must. It knows more about
everything that we do.’ The baby’s eyes opened slowly, it gurgled and raised a small hand to caress
Yellow Rose’s cheek. It then gave a beatific smile that tugged at her heart so much that she stopped
walking. ‘Look at it. It’s like any other baby. It just wants to be loved.’ She turned to the other two. ‘How
would you have liked it if you’d been returned to wherever you were found? You’d have died.’ They
stopped alongside her and smiled down at the baby too. They couldn’t help but return that smile. ‘We
could just hide it near by,’ she continued, ‘and feed it and care for it. Latrommi may change its mind. I
won’t be able to sleep thinking of this baby dying by the river.’ ‘No,’ Coolclear said strongly. ‘We can’t
disobey Latrommi. It’s the first time ever it has told us to return a baby. It said it’s not human. I don’t
know what it is but we must do what Latrommi says.’ He took the baby and walked ahead of the other
two. SETTING A TRAP Varang, looking at her television screen, had seen the small girl child’s gentle face.
Then she saw the faces of the two boys. She woke the baby to smile and gurgle, using her remote
control device. And when the boy began walking, she had the baby turn its head to look at where it had
come from. In this way, she’d discover where the children lived. But the screen went blank. Its vision
was blocked. She then tried to replay the baby’s memory in the hope she’d see where it had been. But
all memory had been erased too. And even as she watched, the path the children were following was
constantly erased, so she’d never know from which direction they had come. She slammed the remote
down in frustration, knowing Latrommi was controlling her baby. The children were on their way to
return it where they had found it by the river. She’d catch them when they did. ‘Kal! Sasa!’ she
screamed for her servants. They both ran in, tripping over each other to be the first to obey her
command. ‘Get a fast motor boat from that scoundrel Bhask, go across the river and wait at the exact
place you’d left the baby. Three children are on their way there. Grab one of them, I don’t care which,
and bring the monster back here.’ ‘They’ll fight,’ Kal said. ‘They could have a tiger with them too,’ Sasa
added. ‘And we could be eaten.’ ‘Or an elephant which will smash us to pieces.’ ‘I’ll turn you two into
frogs if you don’t do what I tell you immediately. Now get out, and this time I want a child.’ As they
hurried to the door, she snapped, ‘Wait.’ She went into her bedroom and a moment later brought out a
neatly folded, silver-coloured sack. When she unfolded it, it looked large enough to hold a child, and it
had a drawstring around its neck. ‘When you get the child just pop it into the sack and pull the
drawstring tight. The child will instantly fall asleep and won’t move until I open the sack.’ She threw the
sack at them, Kal caught it and folded it neatly.’ As they shuffled out towards the door, she added. ‘The
baby will help you.’ Bhask and his spoilt son were sitting outside their RV under beach umbrellas. They
weren’t talking to each other but were watching the men prepare for the assault on the jungle. It would
happen early the next morning. ‘We need a fast motor boat,’ Kal said to Bhask. Bhask craned his fat neck
around. ‘There’s no fast motor boat. Just a motor boat. Why do you want it?’ ‘We have to collect
something from across the river. And our mistress said you’d give us the boat.’ Bhask had considered
refusing but then he looked across at the RV, and even though he couldn’t see Varang he sensed her
watching him. He shivered even in the hot sunshine. He knew she was dangerous and he had no
intention, at this time, to do anything to anger her. He screamed out to one of his men to give Kal and
Sasa a motor boat and watched as the boat was pushed off the bank and slid into the water. Kal and
Sasa climbed in gingerly, and the boat rocked, nearly tipping them into the river. The man started the
motor, showed them how it worked, and they set off across the river. Kal controlled the boat and for the
first few metres it zigzagged crazily as he learned how to steer it. Then, nonchalantly, he sat back and
pointed it at the jungle. This was much less tiring than rowing, which was how they had crossed the last
time they’d gone in search of a child. Sasa saw where he was pointing the boat. ‘That’s not where we
left the baby. It’s further up, near those yellow flowers.’ ‘No, it’s not. We left it near those bushes.’ ‘The
yellow flowers.’ ‘Bushes.’ ‘Yellow flowers,’ Sasa stamped her foot and the boat rocked. They held tightly
on to the sides. ‘I remember it was near the yellow flowers because I plucked a flower and mashed it
up.’ ‘Alright, alright, near the yellow flowers,’ Kal was reluctant to admit he could be wrong. ‘Have it
your way and if they return it to the bushes, and we don’t catch a child, you’re the one I’ll blame.
Madam will whip you.’ He pointed the boat towards the yellow flowers. As they neared, they noticed
the silence. Not a bird could be heard, even the wind was still as if waiting for them with bated breath.
The jungle had its own smell too, sweet and clean. They found it disgustingly fresh, used as they were to
stale city odours. As Kal had not been taught how to stop the motor, he ran it aground and half way up
the river bank. The motor died and they found the silence even more oppressive. They stumbled out of
the boat. ‘Do you know how to start it then or are you too stupid for that?’ Sasa asked her husband. ‘I
pull this rope and wrap it round your neck,’ Kal said and did just that—pulled the rope but didn’t
strangle his wife—shattering the silence as the motor came to life, the propeller spinning madly and
cutting the grass. He turned it off. They pushed the boat half back into the water and covered it with
bushes and branches. They were ready for their quick getaway once they’d grabbed the child. It was a
warm day with a light cooling breeze and they settled down to lie hidden in the long grass.

A CHILD CAPTURED

As the children neared the river, they stopped. Like small animals, they lifted their heads to sniff the air.
They could smell the river beyond the line of trees and bushes, the cool pleasurable perfume of water.
They listened, and noted the silence surrounding them, and wondered what caused it. But it wasn’t a
tense silence, just a quiet that could have been caused by the men across the river. They took a long
time to make another move as they waited patiently to see and sense any danger ahead of them. They
remembered Latrommi’s warning. Blue Stone took a step forward. He was so light that even a leaf didn’t
crunch underfoot. He took another, then another, wary as any animal as it approached water. The other
two waited patiently, watching him, looking all around them, always sniffing the air, listening to the
jungle for any signs of danger. They were disturbed by the silence – it was too quiet. The trees were
deserted. Where were the birds, squirrels, monkeys? Were they away, readying themselves for the
coming battle to defend their world? Now they grew impatient. They wanted to return the baby to the
water’s edge and retreat as quickly as possible into the safety of the deeper jungle. Coolclear was
carrying the baby. It had appeared so light all along the way but now, suddenly, it felt heavier. His side
ached too, and he thought that maybe it just seemed to grow heavier because he’d been carrying it for
so long. He staggered and nearly fell as he followed Blue Stone. ‘The baby’s very heavy,’ he said,
surprised by his weakness. Carefully, he lowered it to the ground. It began to cry. He picked it up again.
Now, strangely, it was very light, like a feather. Then it opened its eyes and stared at him. Its stare made
Coolclear uneasy. It had a Big Person’s knowing look, as if it meant to harm him in some way. He
thought it could be the light filtering down through the leaves, giving it that look. After all it was only a
baby. ‘You must still be weak,’ Yellow Rose said. ‘Let me carry it.’ Coolclear, feeling foolish at his
weakness, passed the baby to Yellow Rose who gave him a teasing smile and walked down the slope,
leaving the two boys behind. The river was now a metre away and as she bent to place the baby
tenderly on the ground, it grabbed her by the ankles. She was too surprised to call out. The grip was like
a clamp, pressing in on the bone of her weaker foot. Without letting go, the baby rolled and stood up. It
remained at a baby’s height but now she saw the muscles rippling under the skin. She struggled against
its grip and fell over when it pulled harder. Before she knew what was happening, she was being
dragged by the baby to the water. ‘Coolclear, Blue Stone, help me, help me,’ she screamed. Even before
the boys could move, two Big People sprang out of the high grass where they had been hiding. One of
them, a female, spat and snarled at them, swinging a large stick to keep them at bay. The other, a male,
opened what looked like a bag and slipped it over Yellow Rose’s head, even as she struggled. Yellow
Rose vanished into it and the Big Person pulled the opening shut. Even as he did that, Yellow Rose
stopped moving. Coolclear moved forward, towards the baby, thinking it would be the weakest. He felt
the malevolence of its stare, daring him forward. He ran at it and it dodged, hitting him very hard on his
back with its tiny fist. The pain shot through him as he went sprawling. The three of them, with the baby
also snarling at the two boys, backed to the boat. They jumped in with the bag holding Yellow Rose.
‘Yellow Rose is being attacked,’ Coolclear shouted, hoping other children were within hearing. Or even
the monkeys. High above Keee saw what was happening and swooped down and down, picking up
speed with every moment, wings spread out wide. As Keee swooped, he called out to all the other
birds. ‘Yellow Rose is being attacked, Yellow Rose is being attacked.’ Kal and Sasa sensed Keee’s shadow
and heard the whistle of the wind through Keee’s outstretched wings, and looked up. The talons were
open and ready to tear into them. But then, Kal swerved the boat sharply, zigzagged, and Keee missed
the first attack, unable to make such sharp quick turns. A thousand or more crows, mynahs, parakeets,
koels, pigeons, bul-buls, shrieking and screaming, rose like a thick multi-coloured cloud out of the jungle
and swarmed towards the river. The whole sky grew dark with birds as they wheeled swiftly to follow
the boat, swooping in to attack. Kal, Sasa and the baby fended them off, hitting out, but the birds
ducked and weaved, pecking their heads, arms, legs. ‘Faster!’ Sasa screamed, ‘Faster! We’ll be killed.’
Kal opened the throttle as wide as he could, zigging and zagging, but there was a blanket of birds
blocking out the sky and, whichever direction he went, they attacked. Kites, woodpeckers and golden
aureoles too joined in the swarm. In his panic and fear, in the last few metres to the other shore, Kal
aimed the boat directly towards Varang’s RV. He wanted to get as close as possible to shelter. The boat
hit the bank, rose and raced on. It came to a juddering halt. Kal, carrying the sack, and Sasa and the baby
ran as fast as they could to the RV. They burst through the door, sprawling and sliding, and Varang
slammed the door shut on the birds. Overhead, the sky was almost dark with birds, flying in circles and
calling out in all their different languages. Bhask and his men who did not know what was happening ran
for shelter as the birds, frustrated at seeing Yellow Rose vanish into the silvery machine, dived to attack
the men. They pecked at the running men savagely, gouging at their heads with their talons, pecking at
their faces, clawing their arms. The men fought them off, but even more birds descended on them.
Bhask and Rhask ran into their RV and shut the door, and watched the attack in horror and fascination.
‘Shoot them … shoot them …’ Bhask screamed at the window as if the running men could hear him
above the bird screams and the roar of a thousand wings beating the air. Rhask grabbed an automatic
pistol from the gun rack, opened the door and fired blindly into the mass of birds. He killed two ... three
… and then a mass of birds struck at him with beaks and claws, ripping his shirt, pecking his hand,
drawing blood, and he dropped the gun and backed, crying and screaming, into the RV. ‘What’s
happening? What’s happening?’ he screamed at his father. ‘It’s Varang. She’s done something to anger
the birds.’ They clung to each other, staring out at the mass of birds, some attacking the windows now,
pecking with cruel, hard beaks until they saw the fissures forming in the glass. They backed quickly,
looking for a place to hide, and squeezed into the windowless toilet. As they were both fat, it was a very
tight squeeze and the door wouldn’t close, so they held on to it for dear life. Above them they heard the
ominous scraping of birds’ claws, the staccato beat of their beaks hammering on the aluminium. They
prayed aloud, trying to be heard above the din of claws, calls and hammering beaks, ‘Dear god, save us
from this onslaught!’ They were so immersed in repeating their prayer, shouting it out aloud, as if they
could be heard, that they weren’t aware of the sudden silence. It was as they took a deep breath that
they realised that it was deathly quiet. They listened for sounds on the roof, no scratches, no tapping of
beaks. No bird calls. They waited, then cautiously opened the door and peeped out. They grew bolder
when the silence continued, and they crept along the floor to peer out of the window. The sky was clear,
the huge cloud of birds had vanished. They raised their heads further up—it could be a trick—but all
they could see were the two dead birds Rhask had killed. One was a crow, the other a koel. They were a
mass of bloodied feathers. Rhask, now swaggeringly bold, opened the door and stuck his head out. Not
a bird in sight. High above, an eagle circled lazily. Men now crawled out from their hiding places, under
bulldozers, loaders, trucks, ready to dive back under. They were bloodied too, wounds on their heads,
arms, faces, legs. ‘Why? Why did they attack us?’ they spoke to each other. ‘We’ve never seen anything
like this before. The jungle is cursed …’ ‘It’s not cursed,’ Bhask shouted, now very brave. ‘The birds go
mad sometimes, and that will pass. The quicker we cut down the jungle and destroy their nests, the
quicker they’ll all die. Now get to work.’ He and Rhask waited, while the men, muttering sullenly, tended
to their wounds first, glancing fearfully at the sky. Bhask knocked on Varang’s door, wondering why she
hadn’t noticed the attacking birds. Her RV was no longer gleaming. It was covered with scratches and
dents, the windows splintered from the beak attacks, bird shit all over the place. Kal opened the door.
‘What do you want?’ ‘I must speak to Ms Varang about the birds,’ Bhask said, trying to peer past Kal. ‘No
one uses the word “must” to my mistress. What birds? And anyway, she’s busy.’ And he closed the door
in their faces.

PRYING OUT SECRETS

 Varang rubbed her hands in anticipation. She had got a child of the jungle and she would lead her to
Latrommi. Taking her time, she slowly undid the knots of the drawstring that had closed the bag. She
opened the mouth wide and allowed the silver sack to fall away. Yellow Rose was curled up, fast asleep.
Now, released from the sack, she opened her eyes. Varang studied the child, surprised to find that she
had blonde hair and blue eyes. ‘You are skinny and ugly.’ ‘So are you,’ Yellow Rose replied. ‘What do you
want with me?’ Varang slapped the cheeky girl, not hard, but it stung. ‘Don’t talk back to me. Where is
Latrommi?’ Yellow Rose didn’t answer, instead looked around her with a child’s curiosity. She had never
seen such a house before in her life. It was filled with shiny objects, She had no idea what they did and
wasn’t even interested. They looked pretty. She was slapped again, this time harder. ‘I asked you a
question.’ ‘You told me not to talk.’‘You are a stupid girl too. You answer when I ask a question. Now,
where is Latrommi?’ ‘What’s a Latrommi?’ She didn’t wince with the next slap. Yellow Rose studied
Varang now—a tall woman with chalk white-skin, eyes black as a panther’s coat, and a nose that
resembled the beak of Keee the eagle, except its shape was sharper and no bird has such an ugly beak.
It was a cruel nose, she thought. ‘I’ll get you to talk if I have to tear your arms and legs off,’ Varang
hissed at her. ‘You can’t imagine such pain.’ ‘I can and I’m not afraid. You can kill me too. I am from the
jungle and there is nothing you can do to me.’ ‘Oh, I will kill you too. But I want Latrommi to know that I
have you and will kill you unless it reveals itself.’ ‘You’re the stupid one now,’ Yellow Rose said and
smiled. ‘Why should this Latrommi you talk about care if you kill me. Everything dies in the jungle,
nothing lives forever.’ ‘We’ll see how brave you are and whether Latrommi will allow one of its children
to die.’ She opened a drawer, took out a silvery steel chain and locked one end around Yellow Rose’s
good leg. She locked the other end to a hook embedded in the wall. The baby had stood by in silence.
Varang passed her hands on its eyes and the eyes closed, like a doll’s. She picked it up, lifeless as a doll
now, and carried it out of the room. Yellow Rose waited, testing the chain. She could move only a few
feet. Varang returned, without the baby. ‘I am destroying your jungle, killing every living creature in it,
including you children, just so that I can find Latrommi. If you tell me where it is now, then I won’t need
to destroy your home and all the animals and birds can live. Think about that, you stupid little girl.’
Yellow Rose deliberately looked thoughtfully at Varang, locking her eyes with those black eyes. They had
no effect on Yellow Rose, because she was a child and protected from the woman’s power. ‘What’s
Latrommi? A kind of tree?’ Yellow Rose asked, and in return, got another hard slap.LATROMMI
EXPLAINS All the children sat in a circle around Latrommi. The younger ones wept, the older ones tried
not to. Coolclear was in anguish and felt he was to blame. If he had not put down the baby, this would
not have happened to Yellow Rose. She would still be with them. Blue Stone, sitting next to him, put his
one arm around Coolclear’s shoulder to comfort him. ‘I know you warned us to be careful,’ Coolclear
told Latrommi. ‘We tried, but two Big People jumped out and grabbed Yellow Rose and put her in a sack.
I should have listened, I should have …’ And he began to cry from the anguish of losing his dear friend.
‘Don’t blame yourself, my friend,’ Latrommi said softly, soothingly. ‘This was meant to happen, as some
things are meant to happen. That baby was meant to happen. I knew it was not what it was and knew
why it had been found and brought here. Varang sent it to capture one of you and return to her with a
child of the jungle.’ ‘If you knew, why didn’t you stop it?’ Coolclear said, trying to keep his anger in
check, surprised about his emotions. ‘I am sorry, I know how you feel. She won’t be harmed. Varang
believes she now has power over me, that I will not allow a child to be harmed. Even now she is
whispering to the child that if she is told where I am she will not harm the jungle or the animals or you
all.’ ‘Yellow Rose will never tell anyone about this place or about you,’ Coolclear said sharply. ‘I know
she won’t. She will lie, which is what I want her to do. She’s a brave child. She is now my eyes and ears
in Varang’s life. As long as she remains close to Varang I will know all Varang’s moves and thoughts.’
Latrommi did not add that it had also taken control of Varang’s baby. ‘We must rescue her then,’ the
Alba brothers chorused in their musical voices. ‘We can cross the river …’ ‘No, there are too many
people across the river,’ Latrommi said. ‘And besides, we have to prepare to defend the jungle from
those people who want to destroy it.’ ‘We can’t just leave her there,’ the children chorused in pain and
bewilderment. ‘Can’t you do something?’ Blue Stone said. ‘You have power.’ ‘You can kill this evil
woman,’ Hiss shouted aloud. ‘I cannot kill, I told you that’ Latrommi said gently. ‘Nothing is all powerful.
Everything is limited.’ Blue Stone asked ‘Aren’t you god then? When we visit the Crowded Place we see
temples and churches. Big People say god is there and that god knows everything and can do
everything. They go into these places and ask for many things.’ ‘And they kneel and say prayers,’ Grey
said. ‘But no one answers. I mean we talk to you through our minds and you teach us many things, so
you must be god.’ ‘God is man’s invention,’ Latrommi said gently. ‘He was created out of man’s need to
explain the mysteries of the universe and of his own life. But there is no god, no single creator who can
be called by such a name.’ ‘Then what are you?’ the Alaba brothers asked in chorus. ‘I am a part of the
stars above your heads. I am merely a small fraction of the universe’s infinite energy. Heat, light, wind,
the energy that creates and destroys stars … I am only a part of that.’ ‘So you know how the sky was
created?’ Coolclear asked ‘No. I do not have that answer. No one does. There is no answer to such a
question. It is there, and will always be there.’ The children remained silent awhile. They often talked to
Latrommi about its origins and how it had come to earth. They knew it was very, very old, and very
mysterious. ‘Why does the evil woman want you so much?’ Grey asked. ‘What can she do with you?
You’re a good person.’ She always thought of Latrommi only as another child. ‘She wants to use my
power, my energy,’ Latrommi said. ‘All energy is neutral.’ And when the children looked puzzled,
Latrommi continued. ‘It does not take sides. Like a mirror, it only reflects the needs of the person who
wants to use that energy for his or her purpose. Children and animals are innocent, they don’t want to
destroy. Being here, I am one of you, the mirror of who you all are. I draw on your innocence and
become innocent too. But if Varang captures me she will use me for destructive purposes. I have the
energy to destroy the whole world. Using me she can kill her enemies from a great distance, she can
take over countries, she can become invisible, like you children, she can steals mens minds, decipher
secrets, turn the world upside down. She can do many, many evil things using my energy.’ ‘We must do
everything we can to stop her from stealing you away,’ Blue Stone said and all the children agreed,
nodding. ‘But what is our plan then to rescue Yellow Rose?’ Coolclear asked impatiently, wanting to
return to the crux of their problem. ‘We must manoeuvre to get Varang and Yellow Rose away from the
others and then you children will rescue her.’

TALKING TO FATHER

‘I have one of the children,’ Varang said, laughing. Yellow Rose thought she was talking to herself.
There was no one else in this metallic room. Varang had her back to her and Yellow Rose tested the
chain, it was too strong and the lock wouldn’t move. She wasn’t frightened, Latrommi would think of a
way to rescue her. Besides, she still had the chip and if she were freed for even one moment, she would
press it against her throat and vanish. Varang seemed to listen, head cocked, then turned to study
Yellow Rose. ‘It’s a female child, Father. A bold thing too, and not afraid.’ Her father, Ecilam, nearly ten
thousand miles away, lived on a small, Pacific island. He had been banished there long ago by their chief
for accidentally committing a good deed. He had saved a child’s life by throwing him onto the shore.
‘Then make her afraid, you know how to do that,’ he said in his rustling whisper. ‘Of course I know how
make her afraid,’ Varang said indignantly. ‘I can tear her nails off for a start.’ ‘She must tell you where
Latrommi is hiding,’ her father said. ‘It’s the only thing that can give you the power to free me from this
wretched island. Torture the child, get her to talk. Or clear out the jungle.’‘One of the children slipped in
last night and destroyed the big machines. Their insides have melted. The machines are useless now.’
‘Who are you talking to?’ Yellow Rose asked, though she knew the answer. Her nose twitched with
curiosity. So Varang had a father, somewhere, and though she disliked the woman, she felt a small pang
of envy. She wished she had a father to talk to, and a mother, but they had died long ago. Where was
the father? Nearby? Far away? In this metal truck? No, if he was, the woman would talk directly to him.
She was not using her mind to talk, the way the children did with Latrommi. But each time she spoke she
faced the window and the falling sun, in the direction opposite to the jungle. She also saw that the
woman had a piece of metal stuck in her ear and spoke into a thin string hanging from it. Her curiosity
was punished with another hard slap across her face, and it knocked her down. She tasted blood in her
mouth, salty and bitter. But she refused to cry, though the woman hovered above her waiting to strike
again. Yellow Rose had never been struck by anyone before and this experience was shocking. Why
would anyone hurt another person? The children never harmed each other, in fact if one of them was
hurt, they would all cry in sympathy as if trying to share the pain of a fall or a broken arm. ‘Shall I kill her
then? It will force Latrommi to take action. It’ll know we won’t stop with just one child and that I’ll kill
them all if need be.’ She paused, agitated. ‘I can’t hear you properly, I’m losing the contact.’ She stalked
to the door, and went out, slamming it shut. Yellow Rose rose and crept as far as the chain would allow
her to, and stood to peer out of the window. She saw the woman striding towards the setting sun to
stand on top of the slope. She was still talking, cupping her ear as if the voice was near by, hidden in the
undergrowth not far away. Yellow Rose noted the direction in which the woman faced, slightly to the
right of the setting sun, moving forward as if trying to be nearer. Yellow Rose knew what lay beyond the
slope—an arid land of caves and shallow ravines and nullahs. The children used a local word, Kala,
meaning black, to describe the area. Nothing lived there, except lizards and snakes. The children
sometimes crossed the river to explore but they never spent much time in those caves. Yet Kala wasn’t
so far from the river at all and she wondered why it hadn’t grown lush and fruitful, like their jungle.
Sometimes, bad men lived in those caves, hiding from the Crowded Place, and they carried long killing
sticks. As suddenly as they appeared, they vanished and sometimes an exploring child would come upon
a skeleton in one of the caves. Yellow Rose heard a truck straining up the slope towards the camp. It
stopped, and when the canvas was opened, she saw it was filled with men. They were fierce-looking,
with matching turbans and clothes, all dark brown, bearded and mustached, and they all carried killing
sticks. There must have been fifty or sixty crammed into the truck. Another truck pulled up and Yellow
Rose saw it carried a large boat. Then a few more trucks with men carrying shining metal blades, while
others had small machines with sharp teeth jutting out from them. They all stood and looked at the
jungle. Then a fat round man in white clothes, and a similar-looking fat young man, strode forward to
meet them. The men stood stiffly together as the fat man spoke to them. He turned and pointed to the
jungle. The woman had finished her conversation and now joined the fat man. They looked together
across the river and it was clear that the woman was urging him to send the men across immediately.
Her gestures were furious and urgent but the fat man kept pointing towards the darkening sky. It would
be night soon and he wanted to wait for the morning light to attack the jungle with his army of men. The
RV door opened suddenly and the squat, ugly woman walked in. ‘What are you doing?’ Sasa demanded
and pulled the chain cruelly. Yellow Rose fell and was dragged backwards. She tried to stand but was
knocked down. ‘You just lie there like a dog,’ Sasa said and kicked her, though not too hard. There
wasn’t enough space. ‘I have to go kaa-kaa,’ Yellow Rose said, crying, tears streaming down her cheeks.
She looked a sad sight but that didn’t stir Sasa’s cold heart. ‘So do it where you are.’ ‘Alright,’ Yellow
Rose said, and squatted. ‘No,’ Sasa shouted. ‘You dirty little animal. Who’s going to clean up? My
mistress will be very angry!’ She went to peer out of the window. Varang was still locked in an argument
with Bhask. Sasa turned, muttering to herself about having to look after dirty little children who should
be roasted and boiled. She was agitated, going to the window, returning to stare at Yellow Rose who
continued to cry and make faces. Finally, Sasa decided. She unlocked the chain, and holding Yellow Rose
firmly, she took her to the small toilet which only Varang used. No one else was allowed to use it. Sasa
remembered the demonic anger of her mistress when this sacred space was trespassed by anyone. She
changed direction, opened the door and dragged Yellow Rose out into the cool evening air. She held her
firmly and dragged her up the slope, away from the camp, to perform her kaa-kaa. Surreptitiously,
Yellow Rose removed the chip, holding it, waiting for the second when this ugly woman would loosen
her grip. She could feel it was about to happen, the fingers unclamping around her wrist. Just as she was
freed and about to the press the chip against the base of her throat, she stopped. ‘No,’ she heard
Latrommi’s soft voice in her mind. ‘Wait. You must stay there and help trap Varang.’ ‘I don’t need to go
any more,’ Yellow Rose said cheerfully to Sasa. In return she got a short, sharp slap. ‘That’s for wasting
my precious time.’ Sasa clamped her fingers around Yellow Rose’s wrist, almost crushing it. ‘As if you’ve
got better things to do?’ Yellow Rose said cheekily. ‘All you do is wait for your mistress to say
something.’ Another slap. ‘And I’ll break your bones next time you open your mouth.’ Sasa hauled
Yellow Rose back into the RV and snapped the chain back onto the hook. ‘Why couldn’t I have used the
bathroom? I’ve never been in a room which is specially for bathing and for kaaa-kaaa.’ ‘And you’ll never
ever see inside this one either,’ Sasa slapped her once more to emphasise her point. ‘Is the baby in
there? The one who brought me here?’ ‘Of course. That’s where it sleeps. Where else?’ Sasa marched
out, slamming the door shut. Yellow Rose stretched the chain as far as possible but she just could not
reach the cubicle which Sasa called the bathroom. ‘What do you want me to do?’ Yellow Rose spoke into
the silence. In her head. ‘What is planned?’ ‘I saw them pointing to the jungle and I think they will attack
in the morning. It’s getting too dark for the men to attack now. They have lots of men with killing sticks
and other men with metal machines that can cut through our trees. She said the big machines won’t
work.’ ‘And where is the baby?’ ‘It’s in what they call a bathroom. I’m very frightened of it.’ ‘Don’t be. It
will help us. I have it under my control. It’s only a kind of machine. Have you seen the woman speak to
someone whom you could not see?’ ‘Yes, to her father. She went out because she couldn’t hear
properly and she has something in her ear with a string she speaks into.’ ‘That means he’s very, very far
away. You must sleep now,’ Latrommi said in a soft, soothing voice. ‘Sleep, so in the morning we will all
be ready for what is to happen.’ Even before Latrommi had finished, Yellow Rose fell into a deep and
dreamless sleep.
THE BATTLE PLAN

It was still night with the stars fading gently in the sky when Coolclear and Blue Stone tapped the river
water with the palms of their hands. They didn’t have to wait long for the ripples to come towards them.
BigBigsnout stuck his head out.They will be crossing in boats at first light,’ Coolclear whispered. ‘You and
your people must wait until they’re in the middle of the river and then upset the boats so they fall in the
water. If you can you must upset all the boats at the same time so that the others can’t attack you from
their boats.’ ‘Some of us will die, I’m sure,’ BigBigsnout replied. ‘But we will do as you say. You are ready
too?’ ‘Yes. And you will be helped. I am planning a distraction so you and your people won’t be alone in
this first battle line.’ Then he added, ‘But you must wait for my signal. Don’t do anything until then.’ The
children of the jungle were not sure how long they could keep their friends and neighbours united in
protecting the jungle. The two boys rose and carefully made their way back into the jungle. The other
children were waiting for them. All the children had smeared black mud across their bodies in uneven
stripes, in imitation of the tiger’s camouflage. Their bodies now blended in with the shadows and the
light filtering down through the trees. If they stopped moving, they were difficult to spot. Coolclear
carried a bow and strapped to his side was a quiver, made of hollow bamboo, filled with arrows. The
arrows had feathers at one end to stabilise their flight, and sharpened points at the other. Because he
had only one hand, Blue Stone carried a sling shot, and the pouch around his waist had smooth river
stones. Coolclear wasn’t the best archer among them. That was a girl, Bluboug, who could hit a leaf at
fifty paces. Blue Stone was the best with the sling shot as he could bring down a mango high up on a
tree with just one stone For about 20 metres in from the river bank and 1000 metres along it, the jungle
was rustling loudly with the movements of snakes and scorpions. The ground was alive with their
writhing, curling and uncurling, hissing, restless movements. Apart from king cobras and kraits there
were two other venomous varieties, vipers and ordinary cobras. The others—grass snakes, wolf snakes,
the languid pythons lying in the grass—were there only to show their unity and frighten the enemy.
Their bites wouldn’t kill anything, but their beauty, combining all the colours of the rainbows, was
wonderful to look at. There wasn’t a square centimetre that didn’t have one of them, waiting, wary of
each other, all facing the river. In the low branches of the trees were as many bees as there were stars in
the night sky. They buzzed loudly, but when they finally settled they fell silent, and the lower branches
of the trees looked as if they were covered in yellow and black dots. Coolclear spoke to the snakes, the
scorpions and the bees. ‘The Big People will come with their killing sticks and they will be looking to kill
us or the bigger animals. They won’t see you at first and so when you attack they will jump up and down
and try to run away. And they won’t be able to kill you with their sticks.’ He turned to the other children
and the many animals waiting for his instructions. ‘They’re not going to attack in just one place, they’ll
spread out and so we too must be prepared for this.’ All the children, except for the babies, were also
spreading out to protect the trees and fight with their friends. Higher up in the trees, Chief Korung and
his clan had gathered stones, rotting fruit and wood apples to hurl down on those who landed in the
jungle. Keeping to his territory, Chief Roh and his tribes were also gathering stones and fruit. Beyond
the 20 metres were Snapsnap and his tribe, over a hundred. They were spread out in a thin line, panting
in the shadow of the trees, ready to hunt down any man animal that got past the snakes and escaped
the monkeys. Beyond them were perythala, and twenty-two other tigers, pacing restlessly, wanting to
start the battle. Baaayyy and his people slunk in the shadows of the others. Though they could be
cowardly creatures, they knew that this time they would have to be part of the hunt, and not follow it,
as they usually did. The man animals would have to cross the paths of Saahoom and twenty-five of his
herd, brandishing heavy branches that the trees had given them. One swing of a branch and it would kill
a dozen men. They waited in ominous silence, barely visible among the trees that had closed their
branches so that it was darker than usual. They knew the man animal could not see in darkness.
‘Loneorn wants to know what he should do,’ Grey whispered. She carried a bow and a quiver of arrows
and was excited, yet afraid. A confrontation like this had never happened before. Maybe they would all
die in this war. ‘And so does Baaloo and Black Panth and Spotto.’ Coolclear followed Grey towards the
rear of their battle formations to meet the three of them. They waited patiently too, grouped tightly
together. He counted eighteen rhinos, thirty panthers and nineteen cheetahs?. Their numbers had
halved, he thought sadly, so many of them had been killed by the man animal. ‘Grey, you take fifty of
the snakes, scorpions, bees, four tigers, eight panthers, four cheetahs, four rhinos, five of Sahoom’s herd
and four children to the far right of us.’ He turned to Blue Hyacinth, a pretty girl if one only saw the
right side of her face. The left side was very badly scarred and distorted when she was born. He
repeated the numbers to Blue Hyacinth adding, ‘You take them to the far left. Blue Stone and I will
divide the others and spread out in the centre.’ He turned to Snapsnap. ‘You are fast movers so I would
like you to spread out too towards the ends of our defences and move back and forth.’ But before the
forces divided, Coolclear spoke to the gathering. ‘You have all been taught to kill when you were very
young, because you have to kill to survive. We children have never killed, but today we will have to if we
are to save our home. So those of us with bows and arrows will need to shoot straight into the bodies of
those who will attack us, and the sling shot stones must strike them in their heads as hard as possible.’
The forces divided, hurrying to their positions. Then they all sat and waited. The silence was eerie.

THE SECRET REVEALED

A short, sharp, stinging slap woke Yellow Rose from a dreamless sleep. She woke, not to a gentle pre-
dawn light surrounded by trees, but to the harsh brightness of the metal room. Varang stood above her,
ready to slap again. The girl slept like an animal, Varang thought—a deep sleep, but yet she woke up
alert, ready to spring up, like a panther. ‘What’s happening in your dirty jungle?’ Varang whispered.
‘How do I know? I’ve been locked in this room since the previous sun.’ ‘You do know and you’re lying,
you dirty little girl.’ Varang thought of slapping her again but she didn’t have time to waste. Instead, she
leant down and stared at the girl intently, even as she had done to hypnotise Shyam and force him to
speak only the truth. The girl met her stare steadily, not flinching from the cruel eyes, looking deep into
them. Yellow Rose felt a chill slowly descending on her. When she tried to glance away from those
staring black eyes, she found she couldn’t move her eyes. Nor could she raise a hand to shield herself
from them. Or stand up. Or turn her head. She had never felt so cold, so alone before, and only sensed
her heart beating. ‘Now, I’m asking you again,’ Varang said softly. ‘What is happening in the jungle?
What are you children and those animals going to do?’ She heard herself speaking but those words were
not what she was thinking. She was thinking about all her friends in the jungle joining together for the
first time ever, preparing to defend the jungle from destruction by this woman and the men outside.
They would be, at this moment, on the opposite bank—snakes, scorpions, tigers, chital, monkeys and
mongooses, rhinos and panthers—everyone waiting for the attack. They would probably all die, but it
would be better to die together fighting the invaders, than to be killed one by one as they fled from the
killing sticks. Her heart ached, she yearned to be on the other side of the river with all her family and
friends, fighting with them, instead of staying locked here in this cold metal room. She wished she could
look out of the window and catch a last glimpse of her jungle, her only home. But she couldn’t move,
not even a little finger or an eyelid. ‘What would they be doing?’ she said with cheek, surprised at what
she was saying but not thinking. It was Latrommi speaking for her. ‘What they always do—hunting,
drinking water, resting in the shade, sleeping …’ Varang slapped her but Yellow Rose didn’t feel the slap,
she was so cold and still. ‘You’re lying. I know they’re going to fight. Where will they be waiting?’ ‘What
fighting?’ Yellow Rose asked, surprised at the innocence in her voice and, at the same time, unsettled at
the lies she was telling. She had never lied in her life. But she could not stop the lies and she knew that
the lies were only spoken to protect her jungle. So she spoke more boldly. ‘They’re not waiting
anywhere. I told you, by this time they’ll be resting or moving to the lakes for a drink of water. The river
water is already being dirtied by your people. We cannot drink it without feeling bad in our bodies.’ ‘I
know you’re lying. I saw you all meeting together. The tiger sat by the deer, the panther by the wild pig,
the snakes by each other, the hyenas and dhole near the monkeys. Enemies in the jungle have now
suddenly become friends.’ ‘I don’t know where you got that big tale. Those are all old friends of ours and
we were talking about you, but we don’t know what to do. We’re just children and animals, not clever
people like …’ Varang slapped her again, and repeated herself but the stupid child kept repeating the
same answers to her questions. She began to believe her. No one under the spell could ever lie. No
matter how hard they tried at first, Varang knew she would eventually wear them down. This ugly child
obviously spoke the truth. She wasn’t certain what her crow had really seen, she had just caught
glimpses through the leaves. ‘Where’s Latrommi?’ Varang sprang the question suddenly and expected
the girl to deny knowing about it. Almost dreamily, Yellow Rose tried to lift an arm to point. Varang saw
the flicker of effort and partly released her from her spell, just enough to free the arm. The girl lifted her
arm and pointed out to the jungle and beyond. ‘It’s in the fortress. It’s always lived there. It said it was
going to leave there soon and find another place.’ Tears seeped out of those still eyes. ‘We will miss it
very much, it was our friend. Who will protect us now?’ ‘Where in the fortress?’ ‘I can show you.’ Varang
snapped her fingers and the spell was lifted. Yellow Rose blinked rapidly as if she’d been in the dark and
had just stepped into bright sunlight. ‘Where is Latrommi?’ Varang asked quickly. ‘What’s Latrommi?’
the girl replied readily and stubbornly.

A SECOND BATTLE PLAN

Varang stepped out into the cool dawn light. All around her was the chaos and noise of preparations for
the attack on the jungle. The earth was churned and muddy, the river slick and oily. At the water’s edge
were a dozen boats and one military landing craft which no doubt Bhask had borrowed from the army
for this expedition. It would ferry over the bulldozers but only one was working. The others were junk,
their engines had melted and fused solid. Varang cursed the child for destroying them, but she knew it
had been the work of Latrommi. Men milled around the frail boats and oracles, over-loading them with
chain saws, long saws, axes, ropes. Bhask stood on a high chair, to give himself some height, like a
commanding general, and screamed at everyone. Rhask stood beside him, also screaming orders which
seemed to contradict his father’s. She looked across the river—the jungle barrier of trees and thick
undergrowth appeared unchanged in this grey morning light. It was silent, quite still. A few birds
swooped across the water, passed overhead and flew back into the jungle. What was happening behind
the barrier of trees? Was life as normal as the girl had said? Varang believed her. How could stupid
animals, snakes and birds band together to defend the jungle? She had to laugh to herself at the very
thought that the stupid, ignorant children could plan anything beyond feeding themselves and living like
savages. Even Latrommi didn’t have such power over nature and its natural behaviour. Knowing that
Bhask was ignorant about the local geography, she stopped a thin man, bearded, desperate, carrying
coils of rope, and asked: ‘Where is the fortress?’ He pointed to the jungle then his hand lifted even
higher. ‘To the far north of the jungle.’ ‘How do I get there?’ ‘The road passes about two kilometres
away from it,’ he said. ‘But then you have to walk and it is an impossible climb to the fortress. And very
dangerous, because rocks fall suddenly. We believe ghostly soldiers still guard it and throw down the
rocks.’ ‘What superstitious nonsense,’ she snapped dismissively. The man shrugged and scurried to a
boat to unload his ropes. Varang strolled towards Bhask, who stood like a constable on a podium
directing traffic. She thought of telling him that she had changed her mind, that she no longer wanted
the jungle cut down as she knew where Latrommi was hiding. But she hesitated. Was it really in the
fortress? Or was this another chess move to confuse her? Besides, she had committed herself to Bhask
and to cutting down the jungle. Jungles were useless. She was proud that she was a woman of her
word, once she had given it, she would never retract it, no matter what. Well, maybe not never. It
would depend on circumstances defined by her. For the moment she would support him but she
wouldn’t tell him that it was probable, but highly unlikely, that the jungle’s inhabitants were waiting to
defend their home. Even to her it sounded too far-fetched, and Bhask certainly would not believe her.
There was a vast treasure to be felled across the river and his mouth was almost salivating at the
thought of the money he would make, even as he shouted his orders. ‘Start from the river, spread out,
and cut everything down,’ he screamed. ‘Everything, you idiots, understand, everything. Even a lantana
bush. And kill everything—tigers, elephants, panthers, snakes, even ants that you see. I want it clear as a
plate after a fine meal by the time you’ve reached the far side. Not even a grain of grass should be seen.’
He climbed down from the high chair and rolled towards Varang. ‘All under control, Madam. The jungle
will be cleared in no time at all. Or a week or two.’ ‘Thank you,’ Varang said sweetly. ‘I’d be happier if
you make it a week.’ ‘For you, I will try,’ he said with an effort at a courtly bow but he was so fat that he
could only manage a dip of his shoulders. ‘Of course without the bulldozers I cannot work as fast as you
would like me too. I could order more machines but that will be expensive …’ He shrugged helplessly.
Varang understood the shrug. ‘I'll pay whatever it costs.’ ‘It will be done at once.’ ‘You will be sending
armed men in too?’ ‘Of course. The animals will have to be killed. They will of course run and hide but
we’ll track them down and shoot them.’ He stopped a man carrying a weapon and showed her the gun.
‘See, AK-47s. No rifles, just press the trigger and a hundred animals die. Quick, fast.’ He threw the gun
back to the man. ‘They all have AK-47s. We even have grenade launchers.’ He snapped his fingers to one
of the small boys and gestured to a chair. The boy scurried to fetch it and place it where Bhask pointed.
‘You should sit comfortably and watch the extermination of the jungle.’ Varang smiled graciously as a
queen, and sat down. She whispered to Sasa, and Sasa scuttled to the RV, went in and dragged Yellow
Rose out. ‘Sit,’ Varang ordered as if the child was a dog. Yellow Rose remained standing until Sasa forced
her down to the ground. ‘Who is she?’ Bhask asked in surprise. ‘Where did she come from?’ ‘A friend’s
daughter,’ Varang lied sweetly. ‘She’s not been well.’ She did not want to explain how she’d got the girl
and that she was a child of the jungle. The river rolled by like an endless wide ribbon of dark blue silk. It
looked invitingly cool and so docile, not even a ripple broke its calm surface. Across it, a hundred metres
away, the jungle remained silent, it seemed to be dozing in the morning sun. She lifted her binoculars to
study the jungle, scanning it from left to right and then right to left. It was all shadows and silence. She
thought it was too silent, but then of course, Bhask’s men were making such a racket. She turned to
watch them. The small boats and oracles were carried to river’s edge and floated. They bobbed gently in
the water. ‘First, I will send men to clear the immediate jungle to set up a camp,’ said Bhask. ‘As you can
see they’ll be attacking the jungle on four fronts, spread 200 metres apart. They’ll cut down the trees as
they move deeper and tomorrow I’ll ferry over more men and supplies. Once the new bulldozers arrive
the jungle will be cleared in no time at all. The men will remain in the jungle during this operation. It will
save time if they don’t have to go back and forth across the river at night. Within a week, the jungle will
have gone.’ Varang merely smiled. She was curious to see if the wretched girl had spoken the truth. Yet
how could she lie under her spell? No one had ever resisted it. Was the jungle just waiting? What else
could it do? Cross the river and attack them? ‘When will the jungle attack?’ she whispered to Yellow
Rose. ‘You can tell me, I know everything.’ ‘What attack? I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ ‘Let’s
wait and see. It will be the river, won’t it? Those boats look like they’d sink with just one little push.’
Yellow Rose silently agreed but remained expressionless. BigBigsnout and his tribe would crush those
boats and oracles with one snap of their jaws. She was sick with worry for the jungle and the children,
angry too that she was helpless here, held by this evil woman, when she wanted to be in her home and
die protecting it. She had tried so hard to contact Latrommi, trying to send her thoughts and pleas:
‘Please help me escape, please help me escape’, but Latrommi had remained silent. Now, she felt so
very alone, an emotion that she had never experienced in the jungle. Her life had been crowded with
her friends, the children, the animals and birds, and the serenity of her surroundings. She felt her head
aching and her ears hurting from all the noise and turmoil around her. Men were clambering into the
boats and oracles. Five to each—three carrying chainsaws, two carrying AK-47s. In all there were nine
craft ready to launch the attack on the jungle. There were four groups of them, spread wide apart. The
crafts looked frail and precarious, but remained afloat even with the men crouched uncomfortably in
them. The boats pushed off from the bank and the men in them waved cheerfully to those watching.
Varang held her breath as they paddled against the current to reach the small clearing just opposite to
where she sat. Something had to happen, she thought. It was when the men were in the water that they
were most vulnerable to any attack. She was sure the river crocodiles would be the first line of attack.
The boats and oracles bobbed in the current. They were half way across. Now, she said to herself, it has
to be now. She would have chosen that spot, exactly in the middle, when the men would have to swim
back. ‘It will happen …’ Varang glanced at the girl, but her face revealed no expression. Varang waited
for her to pronounce the ‘now’.Yes it will, yes it will, Yellow Rose said to herself and held her breath. She
imagined BigBigsnout and his tribe gliding silently under the boats in the dark waters, watching them
floating over their heads and waiting to shoot upwards to attack the boats. The men would fall in the
water and the crocodiles would attack them savagely. The boats and the oracles paddled on, drifting
along with the current, fighting it to reach the small clearing. They were getting nearer and nearer to the
far river bank. The water flowed on, innocent of any disturbance. Nothing rose from the deep to capsize
the crafts. Yellow Rose kept holding her breath, waiting for the sudden eruption of water, the huge
snouts rising out to crunch the crafts with those powerful jaws. She glanced quickly at the evil woman
who was also staring, waiting expectantly. The men reached the far bank, and scrambled out of the
crafts. They turned to wave at Bhask and the others. The men with the AK47s brandished the weapons
arrogantly. The men with their chainsaws waved those weapons too. Then they turned and pushed
aside the thick undergrowth and entered the jungle. ‘Why didn’t they attack the boats?’ Varang spoke
more to herself, puzzled. She looked at the girl. ‘I told you nothing would happen,’ Yellow Rose spoke
with a calm and quiet she didn’t feel. She felt bitterly disappointed. BigBigsnout and his people had let
them all down, they’d allowed the enemy to enter the jungle. Then, faintly from across the water,
deeper in the jungle she heard the metallic whine of those cutting machines that sliced through trees as
if they were made of water. She nearly cried out in anguish. Had all the animals, birds, snakes and
scorpions fled? And where were Coolclear and the other children?

THE ATTACK

The seventy-five men were laughing and chatting as their crafts gently nudged the jungle bank, at some
distance from each other. They climbed out with their guns and chainsaws, and waded through a few
feet of wet mud. A few of them turned to wave to their companions across the river. Then they readied
themselves for the assault. ‘It will be easy,’ one of the men said, and the others grunted in agreement.
The ones with the chainsaws would start clearing the immediate area so that the others to follow would
have a camp site. The ones with guns would hunt down the animals and kill them all. They had their
automatic weapons which could spray 50 bullets a minute. No animal—elephant, tiger, leopard,
monkey, rhino, bear—could ever escape such an onslaught. They were told to even kill the birds but
they didn’t think that was necessary. Once the trees were chopped down, the birds would have
nowhere to nest and would all fly away. The men with the guns took bets on who would kill the first
tiger or the first elephant. They spread out and pushed through the bushes into the cool gloom of the
jungle. After the bright sunlight, it took a few moments for their eyes to adjust. With the noise they
made as they clumsily stumbled over the uneven ground, they didn’t notice the silence. It was complete.
Not a bird called, not an insect rustled. Coolclear waited. He wanted them all to enter the jungle, so
none of them could fall back or run to their boats. He had left a clear path for them, over 20 metres
wide, so they would feel safe. Further along, 100 metres apart, were the other children, all well hidden
in the undergrowth or sitting in the trees. Saahoom and his herd swayed silently in the shadows beyond
a clump of trees, while perythala and his tribe lay deep in the tall grass. Chief Korung’s tribe sat silently
in the higher branches, carrying stones and hard fruits to pelt down on the men. Karpupoonai and his
tribe too were among the branches, trying to ignore the monkeys nearby, their tummies growling. The
monkeys heard the telltale growls and edged further away from the sleek black cats. On the ground,
Hissss, Skaaa and their tribes lay still in the earth. There were over eight thousand snakes and scorpions.
Meanwhile, hidden in the branches, absolutely silent, were the stinger bees. They didn’t make a sound,
and because of the shadows, they couldn’t be spotted. Coolclear had stopped BigBigsnout and his tribe
from attacking the boats at the last moment. If they had, then the Big People would have known
immediately that the jungle was prepared for the invasion. The men stopped in a small clearing to drop
their saws and check their guns. Many of them lit up cigarettes and the warm air was soon stained with
the smell of the smoke. They still chatted to each other, cracking jokes and laughing. One of the men
held up his hand. ‘Listen …’ he said softly. The men listened. ‘We don’t hear anything,’ another said
finally. ‘What are we listening to?’ ‘The jungle,’ the man said and his voice had a nervous timbre. ‘It’s
very quiet. Too quiet.’ He looked up. ‘Not even the birds are calling.’ A man laughed. ‘So they heard us
coming and they ran to hide. That’s what animals do when they see or smell us. We’ll just hunt them
down and kill them. They won’t have any place to hide once you cut down all the trees and clear the
bushes.’ They listened to the silence again, a sense of unease creeping through them. Then they heard a
soft bird’s call, more a long whistle, a trill of ascending sounds. The branches above their heads rustled
loudly as if a wind was blowing through the trees, and the branches came lower and lower. They stood
in astonishment but not for long. The next moment a thousand stones, some large, some medium, came
hurtling down on to their heads. They tried to shout but the stones knocked them down, heads
bleeding, struggling to rise. The men with guns tried to point them up into the trees. Arrows whistled
towards them, hitting the men in their chests and felling them. Two of the men managed a wild burst
from their machine guns. One of the bullets hit Kotung as he was about to hurl a large stone down. He
flew up in the air, twisted and fell down to the ground beside the man who had killed him. Chief Korung
saw it happen and didn’t hesitate as he hurled a small boulder down on the man hitting him between
the eyes. He and three of his followers leapt down and pounded the dying man with their stones until he
was almost pulp. Chief Korung looked down at Kotung, lying so still, and brushed the silken silvery fur. A
tear made its way down his furred cheek. Even though he had known Kotung would one day challenge
him he still grieved for his fallen nephew. The four of them then lifted Kotung and carried him up into
the trees. Then came a lower whistle, barely audible, more of a hiss and snakes and scorpions seemingly
sprang out of the earth and launched themselves at the groaning men. The men rolled around in terror,
trying to stagger to their feet, but they were bitten a hundred times before they could even take a step.
Four of the men who had run deeper into the jungle when the stones rained down, thought they were
free and clear. That was until the children with slingshots brought them down with their stones. The
men ducked and weaved, one of them fired, and hit Banaan, a deaf and dumb boy of twelve summers,
right in the head. But the man didn’t live much longer. Snapsnap and his pack tore into him with the
same ferocity with which they brought down a deer or a wild pig. Two of them died, as the man, in his
death throes, fired a last round of bullets. Saahoom lumbered to a man running away, picked him up
with his trunk and smashed him against a tree. For hundreds of metres up and down this part of the
jungle, Coolclear caught glimpses of the bloody battle. Men, faces swollen with bee stings, staggering
clear of the carpet of serpents and scorpions, were attacked by tigers, panthers, rhinos and elephants. It
was as if the whole jungle was taking its collective revenge against the inhumanity and cruelty of the Big
People, who had over centuries, killed their ancestors. Coolclear turned to confront his own battle. A
man, fear constricting his throat, raced over bushes and believed he’d escaped death. He saw one of the
children, armed with his bow and arrow, and lifted his weapon to kill Coolclear. perythala saw what was
about to happen. His friend would be killed. Without any hesitation, he charged at the man, leaping the
last few feet, coming between the killing stick and Coolclear. The man animal fired at the very moment
that perythala leapt on him and snapped his neck. But the bullets had hit perythala in the chest and he
lay still, barely breathing, on the man he had killed. Suddenly the jungle was silent and still again. All the
seventy-five men were dead. The children had never killed before and they sat in silence and shock at
their own ferocity. They looked at their weapons, surprised at the determination with which they had
struck down the men whose terrified faces they still remembered. They sat looking at each other, then
reached out to the others for comfort. Coolclear saw perythala struggling to lift his massive head. Blood
trickled out of his massive jaws. Coolclear ran to him and cradled the beautiful head in his lap, stroking
it, as he bent to kiss him. ‘You saved my life,’ he cried, tears falling on the great cat’s face. ‘You are my
friend’ the tiger whispered in his slow dying growl. ‘Dying is only a part of living and my time would have
come, now or later, I am not afraid of it. Don’t weep for me. You have killed today, but that had to be
done,’ said perythala, sensing his other distress, ‘We’re of the jungle, and it is a savage place. You cannot
not be a part of it if you do not do your bit to protect the jungle.’ ‘You’re right,’ Coolclear finally replied
in a similar growl. ‘We have always respected life of whatever kind. But if we are of the jungle we must
learn to live by its laws—kill to eat or to survive.’ ‘You must look after my mate,’ perythala’s whisper was
weakening. ‘We all will care for her and protect her,’ Coolclear whispered, and then kissed perythala’s
head. His mate came, creeping up on her belly to lay her head beside him. She licked his face, licking
away the blood. He tried to nuzzle her but couldn’t lift his head. Tears rolled down her fierce face as
perythala died. Blue Stone cradled Banaan. He had been the one who had found the baby by the road
many summers ago and had learnt how to ‘talk’ to him. Banaan had been born deaf, and with his tongue
stuck to his cleft palate, which was the reason he had been abandoned by his parents. Despite this, he
was a boy full of mischief who smiled a lot and his laughter was a gurgle. Coolclear came to sit beside
them and mourned with the other children. They would carry him back to bury him near the glade. The
jungle had to survive, whatever the cost. The children jumped to their feet as Saahoom and his herd
lumbered forward to daintily pick up the bodies, making sure they would not be bitten or stung, and
carried them away to drop them in a deep ravine. Then using their tusks they shovelled earth over them.
‘That was easy,’ Sahoom rumbled. ‘They won’t give up,’ Coolclear said loudly. ‘We must make the others
believe that their friends are still alive here. Otherwise they’ll send more men and more killing sticks
now.’ Coolclear and Blue Stone picked up the chainsaws and examined them carefully. The teeth were
sharp enough to cut a finger. They held them for a few moments, almost as if they were waiting, and
then, without quite knowing how they knew, pulled at the cord hard. The chainsaws roared to life,
frightening everyone, including the children. Then they carefully hung the chainsaws on broken
branches a few metres apart. Across the river it would sound as if the men were at work cutting down
the trees and clearing the undergrowth. By allowing the men to land, they had fooled the Big People
across the river into thinking that their people were busy cutting down the jungle. ‘We should drown
their boats,’ Chief Korung chattered excitedly. ‘Then they won’t be able to return and go away.’ ‘We’ll
wait until night to do that,’ Blue Stone said. ‘If we try to do it now they’ll see us doing it. They’re
watching the river.

’MOPPING UP ‘

What do we do about their killing sticks?’ Karpupoonai whispered from his high perch on a branch, tail
swishing, staring down with those yellow eyes at the weapons the men had brought with them. No one
wanted to touch them. They all just stared in fear at the dull black metal objects. Coolclear was the first
to move. He edged over to the one nearest him—the thin, longer part of the killing stick pointed
towards him, and the other end looked like it was made of a pale wood. ‘See what they use us for,’ the
trees whispered to each other overhead and bent their branches to get a better look at something was
once a living part of one of them. And now a part of the killing sticks. Coolclear carefully picked up the
killing stick by the thin long part. All the others shifted away from him nervously and watched, muscles
tensed to flee. There was a large rock near by. He took the killing stick and struck the rock with all his
strength. It didn’t break. He struck the rock again and again. The wood shattered, the metal bent but
didn’t break. If it hadn’t been for the harsh, guttural sound of the chainsaws, the men on the opposite
river bank would have heard the noise. He struck again. The others watched, all holding their breaths.
Another strike and the handle of the killing stick broke off. There was a sigh of relief from all around
him. The killing sticks could be broken and would not kill them any more. There were still nine more to
be broken up. ‘But it’s very hard work,’ Coolclear panted. ‘And when we’ve broken them all, we must
scatter the pieces so the Big People cannot put them together again.’ ‘We’ll have to get Saahoom and
the other elephants to break them,’ Blue Stone said. ‘They are the strongest and they can smash the
killing sticks against the rocks.’ Everyone agreed. Saahoom and his herd would break them easily. ‘So, do
we have to stay here all day until tomorrow?’ Hisss asked querulously. ‘We haven’t eaten anything and
we’re all starving.’ The air was loud with hisses of agreement. Even Loneorn and Baloo mumbled about
feeding. ‘You cannot feed here,’ Coolclear said. ‘You’ll have to hunt elsewhere. Remember, we’ve all
given our word we will not kill each other in this war against the Big People. So half of you can go and
feed, and when you return, the other half will go for their feeding.’ He saw the confusion as they all
looked around, trying to decide who should go and who should stay. ‘All those to the left of where I am
standing now can go to feed and return by the time the sun is straight above us,’ Grey said quickly,
deciding the matter. She liked to organize things. ‘See, I’m drawing a line and marking it with this stick.’
Surprisingly, they all found that an acceptable division and half of them hurried away to hunt and feed—
the tigers, elephants, rhinos, snakes and scorpions, the bears and rhinos. The deer ran away fast, even
as the tigers, panthers and leopards rose from their positions. It was a noisy departure. However, the
children didn’t leave for the Glade. Not all of them had been in the battle. Some, the weaker ones like
Yelloblahiss, had to remain behind to look after the babies and to prepare the meals for them. The food
was brought by the blind Alba brothers carried in plantain leaves and while the children ate they were
told all the news to carry back to the Glade. Coolclear anxiously peered through the bushes to see if
they had been heard on the far side of the river. He could see Yellow Rose, and his heart ached at the
sight of her sitting among such evil strangers. But he knew Latrommi had a plan and he should not rush
over to rescue her, even if he could. Nobody seemed to have noticed anything, they were busy readying
their machines for the following day. Normally, as the sun rose higher and the heat seeped down
through the trees, the jungle would be quiet. Every creature would have fed, drunk at the pools and
rested briefly in the shade of the trees. Insects would hum contentedly and the jungle seemed to doze
off for a few hours. But by the river’s edge the silence was constantly shattered into pieces by the roar
of the saws. In all there were eighteen chainsaws which the men had carried with them but the children
were not running all of them at once. Coolclear and Blue Stone had known, and they knew why they
knew, how to run them, so they decided to run two at a time. In this way, the Big People on the far river
bank would be lulled into thinking that the men were working all day. The children took turns peering
through the bushes at the other bank. As the sun rose, the evil woman went into her metal home,
leaving Yellow Rose out in the open. Yellow Rose was tied to a man with a silvery-coloured string and
could not move without his permission. They looked across with yearning at their captured sister. How
would they rescue her? She was so far away, yet so near. ‘A boat is coming,’ whispered the one-legged
boy, Bougan, who was watching. ‘They are putting boxes in it … one man is in the boat … he’s started
moving towards us.’ He turned to the others. ‘What shall we do?’ Coolclear squatted beside him and
peered through the bushes. The boat was an oracle and the man pushed away from the far shore and
paddled towards them. Coolclear kept watching, the oracle kept drifting with the current and the man
struggled to keep it aiming straight towards them. He waited until the oracle was in the middle of the
river. ‘I’ve met that man,’ he whispered. ‘He’s from Magalapur.’ He turned to see whether the Alba
brothers had left for the Glade. They had. ‘He says he’s the father of the brothers. I’ll talk to him when
he lands here.’ The children waited for Shyam to reach their shore. He stepped into the shallow water
and hauled the oracle up to dry land so it wouldn’t float away. He then hefted the boxes out and
dumped them a few feet up from the water’s edge. The children’s sharp sense of smell twitched to the
unfamiliar odours of over-spiced foods. He had brought the men their lunch. ‘Kishen’ he shouted to be
heard over the din of the saws. When no one responded, he muttered to himself. ‘I suppose I have to
carry these heavy boxes and serve each one personally. I don’t know why I’m helping them to kill the
jungle but how else can I earn money and feed my family, you tell me.’ He climbed the bank and when
he parted the bushes, he was startled to see fifteen children tensely waiting for him. Behind them stood
two massive tigers and then behind them a large tusker, its ears twitching, ready to charge. Above his
head were a large tribe of monkeys, not playing in the trees but poised to hurl stones down on him.
There were no signs of the men and he saw the chainsaws hooked to branches, running madly. He didn’t
dare look any further. ‘Where are the men?’ ‘Gone away,’ Coolclear said, and tugged Shyam further
away from the river so that he couldn’t turn and bolt for the craft. The children circled him. ‘We’re all
fighting together to save our home. Will you help us?’ ‘Yes,’ Shyam said without hesitation, proudly. He
too wanted the jungle saved. He knew they were all a part of it, though they might not be as closely
bound to it as the children were. They were real children, and not ghosts who haunted the jungle. He
looked from one to another, searching for two blind boys, and was disappointed when he didn’t see
them. ‘Where are my sons?’ ‘You’ll meet them some time,’ Blue Stone said. ‘Now you must return to the
other bank and pretend that you’ve given the food. If you don’t return, they’ll be suspicious and send
more men.’ ‘They will anyway, when these men don’t return. What have you done to them?’ ‘They’re
dead,’ Coolclear said with no regrets in his tone. ‘Yes, they’ll send others, but that will only be at the
next sunrise. It will give us time.’ ‘But then they’ll question me about those dead men. I’m very afraid of
that woman.’ He pulled up his frayed shirt to reveal a large, angry welt on his chest, just above the
heart. ‘She pointed a finger at me and a light burned me and I fell unconscious. Next time, she’ll kill me.’
‘She won’t. I think she’ll be leaving soon and we’ll kill the others who cross the water. They will give up
when they see how many have died. As you can see, the whole jungle is ready to fight.’ ‘What shall I do
with all this food? I can’t take it back.’ ‘We’ll eat it,’ Chief Korung chattered down to the children. ‘We
love rice and spicy food.’ ‘Leave it here, as if the men are still eating,’ Blue Stone said. ‘You must let me
see my sons. I don’t need to talk to them. Just see them.’ ‘We will.’ Shyam pushed through the
undergrowth and returned to the oracle. The children remained hidden, watching him row back to the
far shore. When he climbed out, no one paid any attention to him, and, after a quick look backwards, he
hurried out of sight. He didn’t stop once he’d reached the road but began to run towards his village,
always looking over his shoulder in fear.

TEMPTING RICHES
 Varang looked down at the girl, who slept calmly. Varang nudged Yellow Rose with her foot but the girl
didn’t wake up. Had she spoken the truth that Latrommi was in the fortress? In one way it was logical. It
was protected by those towering granite walls and, as no one except the children entered the fortress, it
would remain undisturbed. It would have communicated with them through its power of thought. She
remained patient through the long day and remained in her RV watching the still jungle across the river
on her big screen. She had seen the man row over to deliver the lunch to the working men, and then
return to this shore. He had looked worried and she wondered what had disturbed him. The jungle
remained unchanged from her view, the chainsaws humming softly in the distance. As dusk fell, the
jungle faded into shadows and she left the RV to go out so she could see more clearly. The chainsaws
still hummed, the men were working very hard, she thought. Bhask sat in the shade of an umbrella on a
grand chair, with his son next to him. In between them was a small table with plates of food for them to
snack on. She could smell the oil on them and wrinkled her nose in distaste. No wonder they were both
so fat. ‘I can’t see what your men are doing,’ she said. ‘They should clear the jungle down to the river so
we can see a way through.’ ‘No, no, madam,’ Bhask said reedily. ‘I wanted them to leave a screen of
bushes and trees so that any nosey outsider cannot see beyond them. We will work behind it so that the
jungle will be cleared without them seeing any deeper.’ ‘They are working very hard.’ ‘Yes, they’re the
best men I have. They can clear a jungle in a few days and the other men will kill all the animals as they
flee. You heard the shooting. Now the hunters have moved deeper into the jungle to kill even more
animals.’ He laughed. ‘You’ll see nothing but a huge field very soon. Tomorrow I’ll send in more men to
trim off the branches and start moving the tree trunks across here.’ She moved away from him, out of
hearing, she thought, and took the chair Sasa placed for her. She turned to Sasa who hovered a foot or
two behind her. ‘Get the girl.’ Sasa scurried to the RV and hauled Yellow Rose out, pulling so hard on the
chain that the child fell over as she tried to keep up. Yellow Rose yawned when she reached Varang’s
side. She had been woken up abruptly and now she looked across at her home, the jungle. It was fading
into the darkness and she could hear the hum of a machine. Yet, nothing seemed to have changed.
‘They’re clearing it and very soon there’ll be no jungle left,’ Varang said to her. ‘Once that is done I will
kill you, do you understand, stupid little girl. Then I’ll catch another child and kill that until I know you’re
speaking the truth. If you tell me where Latrommi is hiding, we’ll let you go and leave you all in your
stupid jungle.’ Yellow Rose didn’t answer, looking away at the jungle, then her eyes closed sleepily. But
now when she spoke it wasn’t any longer her voice. This voice was softer, not a child’s but a wise adult’s
voice, soft and ethereal so that Varang had to lean forward to hear it clearly. It was Latrommi speaking
through her. ‘She has told you the truth. I do not want the jungle destroyed or this little innocent girl
killed. And I know you will do both. I am in the fortress, below the throne. I’ve always lived here in the
quiet and silence of a lost kingdom. You must bring the girl with you, then I will accompany you.’ Bhask
strained to listen to the exchange. As it had grown darker he wondered why the men hadn’t stopped
work. He wondered too what the woman was talking about. Who was the girl? She had lied, the girl
wasn’t a relation at all. What was this ‘Latrommi’ she’d asked the about? She’d never mentioned it
before, she had said there was uranium in the jungle which was why he was clearing it to find the
deposit. He hadn’t quite believed her. Now, he knew it was something called Latrommi. She was
obviously obsessed with this Latrommi, and this made him more curious. It must be something very
valuable if she was willing to pay a fortune for him to clear the jungle just so she could find it. Maybe it
was worth even more than the money he would make from clearing the jungle. What he planned to do
was then plant maize as far as the eye could see. Not to feed humans, but to process into ethanol for
cars and buses. There was a huge fortune to be made from ethanol. Until now he had been satisfied
with the money she was paying him and for a share in the deposit, if it existed. But he was a man of
insatiable greed and his devious mind began to plan how to get his hands on this Latrommi before
Varang did. Now he knew where it was. In the fortress. Under the throne. He listened as the girl
continued, now in her own voice. ‘It’s in a cave which is filled with shiny yellow metal, white metal too
and there are lots of white, red and green glass stones in the cave too.’ She pointed to Varang’s fingers
which were all ringed with gold and diamonds. ‘Like that colour.’ Bhask held his breath as Varang asked
indifferently, ‘How much is there?’ She wasn’t interested at all in gold and diamonds. ‘Lots and lots,’ she
said innocently. ‘And lots of those white and red stones too.’ Bhask’s mouth watered at the thought of
such treasure. This treasure would be real. He had no idea of history, and cared even less, but he knew
that some of those ancient kings had amassed huge amounts of gold and jewels. The fortress had long
been abandoned and everyone believed the treasury would have been looted over the centuries. But if
this girl was telling the truth it was all still there, deep down and hidden away. Along with Latrommi. His
eyes bulged, his mouth salivated. He was practically eating the gold and precious stones Varang glanced
at Bhask. He seemed to be concentrating on the jungle and could not have heard the whispers. She had
no need for such earthly riches. Latrommi was the power she coveted and all the gold in the world was
worthless when compared to that. She was as excited as Bhask, and equally greedy, as the search for
Latrommi was nearly over. She had found it and now all she had to do was put it in her special box and
carry it away to her castle. Then she would have the power to rule the world. And beyond. A scruffy man
approached Bhask deferentially, pointing across the river. ‘It is dark and they have not returned. They
haven’t even stopped working. It is strange.’ Varang and Bhask, absorbed in their day-dreams, glanced
up at the dark sky and then across the river. They couldn’t see the jungle but they heard the chainsaws
still humming away. Yellow Rose knew instantly what had happened to the men. The jungle had claimed
them but she kept her face and eyes blank as the woman glanced quickly to see her reactions. And read
nothing. ‘Go across and see what’s keeping them,’ Bhask ordered the man. He rose with some difficulty
from the chair and waddled to the water’s edge as if this would give him a clearer view. Varang closed
her eyes to mentally scan the undergrowth. Her power extended to only a few hundred metres. But
once she had Latrommi, it could encompass the world and even race beyond the stars. All she saw was
the darkness. Nothing moved. She felt instinctively that something had gone very wrong. It was the
silence beneath the hum of the chainsaws that she couldn’t penetrate with her mind. ‘Be careful,’ she
warned the man. He laughed. ‘I know the jungle well. There’s nothing for me to fear.’ But as a
precaution he borrowed an AK-47 from one of the other men, clicked back the safety catch and stepped
into the boat. They watched him row slowly across the water. The current still ran swiftly and he
struggled to keep the boat pointed towards the far side. They waited in silence. A half moon rose and
they could just see the boat land on the other side. The man looked back, waved and pushed his way
through the undergrowth. They waited for him to return to the water’s edge. Varang focused her mind,
crossing the water and pushing through the bushes. She couldn’t see the man or any of the others. The
silence below the roar of the chainsaws now made her wince. Then she saw him. He was standing, not
moving. She waited. He still didn’t move as the minutes passed. ‘Where is he? Where are they?’ Bhask
asked rhetorically. ‘He hasn’t moved, he’s standing very still,’ Varang said softly. ‘I think he’s dead.’ ‘How
can he be dead and standing?’ Bhask asked in irritation. He turned to the men who had now gathered
and were also looking towards the jungle. ‘Two of you take a boat and guns and find out what’s
happened to them.’ No one moved. Finally one of them whispered. ‘It’s too dark. We should wait until
the sun rises. The jungle is haunted by those children.’ ‘It’s not haunted by them,’ Varang laughed. ‘I
have one of them, and she’s no ghost. See.’ She pushed Yellow Rose forward so they could see her. She
looked at them with such intensity that they shifted uneasily. ‘They’re ghosts,’ the men murmured. ‘The
jungle is cursed.’ ‘Take a boat and go over,’ Bhask shouted. But no one moved forward. Instead they
drifted back, away from the river, muttering to each other and looking fearfully at the jungle. Quite
suddenly, the chainsaws fell silent. Someone or something had turned them off. The men waited,
looking expectantly at the far side of the river . Nothing moved. Varang looked again, expecting to see
the man still standing. He’d vanished. There was no sign of him anywhere. She scanned the
undergrowth. Two elephants were peacefully feeding on a clump of bamboo, a jackal slunk by, and in
the higher branches, a small tribe of monkeys was picking off the fruit. There was no sign of any
children. No sign of the chainsaws either. Then she remembered. ‘That man you sent with the lunch—
where is he? How did he manage to return?’ He had spoken to one of the children who had crossed the
river to damage the machines. He was a friend of theirs, which was why he had returned unharmed.
‘Where’s that man?’ Bhask shouted. ‘What’s his name?’ The men stopped and looked among
themselves. ‘He’s not one of us. He’s from the village.’ ‘Shyam,’ another man said. ‘Shyam,’ Bhask
screamed. No one stepped forward. ‘Two of you go to the village and bring him back at once. Go. The
village isn’t haunted.’ Two men picked up their weapons and walked away quickly in the direction of the
village.

FEELING THE PAIN

When Varang had seen the man standing so still, and thought he was dead, he was frozen in fear. He
had pushed his way through the bushes, cheerfully calling out ‘You men are working too hard.’ And
stopped. He couldn’t see his hand in front of his face as the branches of the trees closed together with
menacing whispers, which he heard, and blocked out any shard of moonlight falling into the jungle. He
was also frozen with fear because he heard the hisses of a thousand serpents and sensed them sliding
through the grass near him. But he didn’t die from their bites. While he stood so still, Chinnathala,
perythala’s mate, had risen behind him and with one swipe of her paw, snapped the man’s neck as
easily as breaking a twig. Saahoom’s nephew, a young bull, had carefully wrapped his trunk around the
body and carried it away to be buried in the ravine with the other men. The children lay flat on the
earth, among the snakes and scorpions, and looked across the river. They expected others to come
when this man hadn’t returned. ‘What can you see?’ Black Panth whispered in her silken growl from the
branch above them. ‘They’re moving away,’ Grey whispered back to the others, as she was up front by
the water. ‘I can see Yellow Rose too. She’s talking to the woman.’ She turned to Coolclear and the
others. ‘Can’t we swim across and rescue her before something happens to her?’ ‘No. She must stay
with them,’ Blue Stone whispered back. ‘She’ll lead them into the old fortress and we will rescue her
then when they find what they’re looking for.’ ‘They won’t cross the river again tonight,’ Coolclear said
as he pushed away from the bushes, avoiding stepping on the snakes and scorpions. ‘They’ll come in the
morning, many more of them, and with many more killing sticks. When ...’ and he didn’t use the word
‘if’, ‘… we kill them, that will be the last of them.’ ‘Do we wait here all night then?’ Loneorn rumbled. He
had been grazing on this thin grass and wanted to find fresher pastures. ‘No. But we must all return here
long before the light comes, when it’s still dark so we can be ready for them. You promise you’ll all be
here?’ Growls, squawks, rumbles and hisses replied, promising to return to defend their jungle.
Saahoom and his herd ambled away, Karpupoonai jumped down and slid through the night almost
unseen, Baaay and his pack scampered after the tigers in the hope there would be a kill, Snapsnap and
his pack raced away, Spotto, always the loner, slunk into the night, Loneorn needed Grey to lead him
back to his territory and Baaloo rolled away with his tribe. Within moments they had all vanished into
the jungle. ‘Chief,’ Coolclear called up to Chief Korung who was leading his tribe to fresher pastures as
they had eaten all the fruit near by. ‘Can you stay with Blue Stone? This is in case they attack at night,
though I don’t think they will. We have scared them.’ Chief Korung hopped down to stand by Coolclear
who turned to Blue Stone. ‘You are the boldest of us all. You don’t mind, do you?’ ‘Of course I’ll stay
with the chief,’ Blue Stone laughed. ‘If they do cross the river, I’ll call all the others and we’ll drive them
away.’ ‘The rest of us will return to the Glade, but we’ll be back here before the light. We must discuss
what to do with Latrommi.’ Coolclear led the other children away. The night was noisy, as if after all the
silence of the day, the animals needed to release their suppressed voices. They were hunting and
foraging for food hurriedly, as they were expected back for the battle within a few hours. The children
remained silent on the long journey back to the glade. They were all thinking about what they had
done—killed. It was a strange feeling. They knew they had had to kill. Just as the tiger had to kill as part
of its nature, they had to kill to defend their jungle. What surprised them was that they didn’t feel any
remorse; it seemed like it was part of their nature too, to kill in defence of what they loved. They
belonged to the jungle truly now, savage as it was. Yet somehow, they knew they’d lost the innocence
that they had possessed for so long. Was it their fault they had been forced into such actions? They had
been attacked, they had defended, and in defending, they had killed the attackers. Would they do it
again? They knew in the new day, when more men crossed with their killing sticks and machines, they
would have to kill them. They could never return to their time of innocence. They no longer felt they
were children—they had become Big People, even though they had not grown physically. They reached
the Glade in the same silence and slipped between the trees into the circular space, their home, their
comfort. Although it was dark, Latrommi had bathed the Glade in a pale golden light. Strangely, it
soothed and calmed them as the sat in a circle around Latrommi. ‘I know your feelings,’ Latrommi said
gently. ‘You have killed for the first time and that has changed you, you feel. You’ve not killed those men
out of greed or out of hatred. You killed them to protect your home, to defend yourselves from the
invasion, and you stood and fought with your friends in this jungle. I could cleanse your minds of this
memory but I will not do it. You will learn to live with it and rediscover your innocence. You are all part
of the jungle and you know well that animals kill but they kill out of necessity even as you have, and they
still retain their innocence. So will you, once you have thought this over.’ The children listened carefully
and remained silent, turning their thoughts deeper inwards. They were comforted by what Latrommi
said and when they had thought long enough in the silence, they accepted that, like their friends in the
jungle, they had killed out of the necessity to survive and for no other reason. Then Latrommi told them
what it was planning to do for them and the jungle. It warned them to talk to no one about it. They were
awed, but they trusted Latrommi, so they accepted his judgement unquestioningly. ‘Now you must build
something for me,’ Latrommi said. ‘We’ll make it out of sticks, mud, tree bark and the juices of berries
and plants. We must work quickly, as there isn’t much time.’
OFF IN SEARCH

While it was still dark and only the faintest light of a rising sun tinted the sky, Varang woke Kal by giving
him a firm kick on his bottom. He, Sasa and Yellow Rose slept on the floor in the front room of the RV.
He leapt to his feet trembling, panicking with the thought that he had offended Varang and would be
turned into a mouse. It had happened to him once before. ‘Start the vehicle,’ she ordered him. ‘No
lights. Hurry.’ Then she kicked Sasa who could sleep on through cannon fire, and she woke in a panic
too. ‘Go and get those two small boys who are tied together.’ ‘But why?’ Sasa heard herself say in her
half-asleep state, and received another kick. ‘Because if I have more children, the more power I have
over Latrommi, you stupid woman. It knows I’ll kill all three if it doesn’t cooperate.’ She sighed. ‘I wish I
had all of them. I really hate children. Now go.’ Sasa scuttled out, stumbling in the dark, searching for
the two small boys tied together. She finally found them, still tied together and huddled together too,
fast asleep by the kitchen tent. She kicked them both, waking them. They didn’t seem surprised at such
treatment. That was how they had been woken ever since they had been sold to Bhask. She grabbed the
chain that held them together and dragged them behind her to the RV. She opened the door, threw
them in and jumped in herself. Kal slid behind the wheel, started the vehicle, and drove slowly in the
darkness, hoping he could find the dirt road through the bushes and trees. Varang sat beside him, silent,
but peering into her side of the rear view mirror. She saw no one stirring, but she only relaxed when
they were on the dirt road running parallel to the river. Even then she kept peering into the mirror and
once or twice stuck her head out to look back. Bhask, no doubt, slept heavily after his big dinner and
whiskies. She watched the river, a thick dark treacle to her left, and then looked north towards the
fortress. Closing her eyes and focusing at the north, she saw the shattered turrets and walls silhouetted
against the night sky. It was going to be a long hard climb to reach the entrance. Then she sensed
movement near by, around the curve of the road. A tight bunch of people was moving towards them.
The crowd was silent and determined, and they carried clubs and hatchets. Leading them was the man
Shyam. She sensed they were going to attack Bhask’s people. ‘Pull off the road, quickly,’ she ordered
Sasa. He swung off the dirt road blindly, bumped along for a few metres, crashing past bushes, and
stopped. ‘Switch off the engine.’ In the silence, she heard the shuffles of many bare feet, the soft
murmur of the men as they passed on the road towards the encampment. Shyam was their leader,
striding out in front, cradling an AK-47. He had run all the way back to the village and told the people
that the children and the animals were fighting together to save the jungle, and that they should help
them. The jungle was important to them too. The village panchayat conferred and dithered. That was
until the two men from the camp swaggered in arrogantly, brandishing their AK-47s and demanding that
the village hand over Shyam to them. The villagers had faced them in sullen silence and could have been
swayed, if the two men hadn’t punched Shyam who bravely told them to go away. The punch so
enraged the villagers that they attacked the two men, beat them and tied them up, grabbed the guns,
gathered their hatchets and knives and marched on the camp, determined now to join in the fight to
save the jungle from such wanton destruction. Now that Varang had what she wanted, she didn’t care
what happened to Bhask and his men. There were over a hundred villagers and she had little doubt they
would win the battle. She waited until they had moved some distance up the road. ‘Okay, we can go on,’
she ordered.
FINDING LATROMMI

Yellow Rose heard the men passing on the road. They were going to join the fight to save the jungle
from destruction and, for once, she felt a surge of warmth for those Big People. They did enter the
jungle to chop wood, to kill the tigers and elephants but they came in ones and twos with small
weapons. They couldn’t afford to lose their jungle as it was a source of food, medicinal plants, herbs and
firewood. She saw the two small boys, huddled together, staring around them with frightened eyes.
They looked about five or six summers old. She edged over to them with a smile. ‘Don’t be afraid. We’ll
be saved.’ ‘Who by? No one cares about us,’ one of them replied. ‘And who are you?’ ‘I’m called Yellow
Rose. What are your names?’ ‘I think our names are Bandar-log,’ the other said innocently. Yellow Rose
winced. It was the local name for the monkey. ‘We’ll have to think of new names for you when we’re
free.’ ‘We’ll never be free,’ they said sadly together. ‘You must not say things like that,’ Yellow Rose said
gently, though she herself didn’t know how they would be freed. ‘We might as well sleep.’ As there was
little else she could do she went back to sleep, dreaming she was with her friends in the glade. But
moments before she fell asleep she heard a sly, scraping sound from the tiny enclosure that was called
the bathroom. No one else heard it as the RV bounced along the bad road. In the bathroom, the baby’s
eyes snapped wide open. It lay staring for a long moment, as if listening to a voice, then it rose and
climbed down from its shelf. It opened the cupboard and, looking at the black box with its many
switches and lights, again listened to the soft voice that spoke in its head. It reached in and started
working the switches, pressing the buttons in a slow sequence. It pressed its small hand against the
machine and felt a power surge through its fingers. When it heard a sharp sizzle in the machine, and
smelt the faint, bitter odour of an electrical short circuit in the machine, the baby shut it down and
closed the cupboard. It then climbed back onto its shelf, closed its eyes and fell back into its deep sleep.
When the sun was nearly overhead, the RV stopped at the bottom of the steep hill. Varang got out and
craned her neck upwards. There was a winding, narrow lane, wide enough for two horsemen, leading up
to the fortress’ gate. On either side were huge boulders that looked as if a slight push would send them
crashing down the steep slopes. ‘Sasa, get the wretched girl and the torches, and start climbing,’ she
ordered. ‘And Kal, you carry the cylindrical case. It doesn’t weigh much. And bring the two boys.’ Sasa
and Kal looked at the climb ahead of them and felt exhausted even at the thought of it. The sun was
high and the heat pressed down like a heavy blanket. They sweated without even taking a step. But they
couldn’t disobey their mistress. Sasa woke Yellow Rose with a swift kick, grabbed the end of her chain,
picked up the two powerful torches and pulled her out of the RV. Kal picked up the case—it was lighter
than an empty suitcase—and dragged out the frightened boys. Varang was already a dozen steps
ahead, walking so lightly that her feet barely touched the ground. She was near the end of her quest,
and wanted to run up. She had the strength and agility to do that too but she forced herself to be
patient. Only that ugly little girl knew where Latrommi was. Varang flipped open her mobile and dialled.
But it would not connect. She tried again. It still couldn’t make contact with her father. She glanced up
at the low mountain and thought it might be blocking the signal to the satellite. The signal from her
phone would be stronger from the top of the fortress. It took them four hours to reach the great gates
of the fortress. The sun was low now, but it hadn’t got any cooler. They were drenched in sweat. Both
Sasa and Kal were so out of breath that they just sat on the ground and panted like exhausted dogs after
a long chase. Yellow Rose, like Varang, scarcely breathed hard at all. The two boys also looked fresh. In
the bright light, Yellow Rose saw how thin they were and her heart went out to them. In the Glade they
would be well fed but whether they would ever get there she didn’t know. Yellow Rose looked around.
Little had changed since her last visit two summers ago. The gates were wide open and huge hinges still
held them erect and proud. They were decorated in intricate colours, faded over the centuries of wind
and rain, but still visible. Varang looked around at the jungle which stretched out as far as the eye could
see on three sides. Nearer, the river glistened sleekly in the fading sunlight. On the other side stretched
a flat plain which looked lifeless and bleak. She opened her mobile and, after a moment’s hesitation,
decided to call her father to tell him what was happening. She dialled, but there was no signal. She tried
again and again but the phone couldn’t connect with him. There was something wrong. She didn’t know
what it was but for the first time in her life she felt a deep sense of unease. Wherever she had been, in
the deepest cavern or in the middle of the ocean, she could always reach her father. She looked back
down at the RV, now the size of a toy car, and wondered whether the fault was in the communication
computer. But it couldn’t be. No one touched it except her. She bit her lip. Should she go on or wait until
she could talk to her father? She had her own powers to protect herself, so she decided to go on. She
would call him when she had Latrommi safely locked in her box and could report: ‘I’ve got it.’ Varang
kicked both Sasa and Kal. ‘We can’t waste time. We have to return before it gets too dark.’ She turned
to the girl. ‘Now, where’s the throne and where’s Latrommi?’ Yellow Rose did not reply, she just began
walking into the fortress. She was still held by the chain and they had to hurry to catch up with her. All
around them were the fallen walls and pillars of magnificent palaces and audience halls. She climbed
another, steeper slope and there in front of them was the main audience hall. Forty pillars flanked the
marble floor like sentinels, to hold up a roof that had long fallen. She picked her way through the ruins,
towards the far end. She climbed the eight wide marble steps that led up to the marble platform on
which a king once sat and held an audience with his subjects. ‘That’s the throne,’ Yellow Rose said. ‘I can
see that and it isn’t much of a throne,’ Varang said crossly. She was eager, impatient, wanting to grab
Latrommi and leave this haunted, sad-looking ruin. ‘But where’s Latrommi?’ ‘It’s underneath.’ The
throne looked as if it was one piece with the floor and there was no opening that led below. ‘But where,
you wretched girl?’ The four sides of the throne were sculpted with vines and flowers that once were
painted in bright colours. Now, they were faded and worn. Yellow Rose went to the rear of the throne,
knelt and carefully pressed on a discoloured rose. For a moment, nothing happened. And then the
throne slowly slid side sideways, revealing steps that led down into impenetrable blackness. Varang
peered into the dark. ‘I don’t see Latrommi.’ ‘It’s at the bottom,’ Yellow Rose said. ‘There are forty-one
steps down.’ ‘You and the boys go first,’ Varang said and took the chain from Sasa. ‘If anything goes
wrong, I’ll cut your throats.’ And from her fingertips a bright sharp light cut through the air with a vicious
sound. Yellow Rose whispered to the boys. ‘Stay close by me, always.’ She took the first step down into
the blackness. For the first time since her capture, she felt unafraid. She knew her way down the stairs
and the many corridors that led away; she was entering a familiar world. She could have found her way
around blindfolded. She heard Varang and then the other two, follow her down. They used the torches
to light their way. By the twentieth step, she knew if she looked up, she would not see any light as the
steps curved deceptively around. She reached back and held one of the boys’ hand to make sure they
remained close to her.

THE CONFRONTATION
 Bhask and Rhask crept out of their hiding places. They had driven up in the middle of the night, hidden
their jeep in the bushes below, and slowly climbed the steps. It had taken until dawn for them to reach
the gates as they had to rest frequently. They were both very unfit and felt almost sick from the effort of
the climb. But both were driven upward by the thought of the treasure hidden in the fort and the thing
called Latrommi, that Varang wanted so desperately. They both carried guns. Rhask has an AK-47 and
Bhask, an automatic pistol with a spare clip. And they had their torches too. They crept awkwardly to
the opening and peered down. They could see the faint moving lights, and then nothing but darkness.
‘You go first,’ Bhask ordered his son. ‘No, you go,’ Rhask told his father. ‘You know I’m frightened of the
dark. I hate it.’ ‘Then you’ll only get ten per cent of the treasure,’ Bhask negotiated. He didn’t like the
dark either. He preferred to have his son ahead, then if he lost his footing, he would have someone soft
to land on. Rhask thought of arguing. They had agreed on an even split of the treasure and that Bhask
would keep anything else found there. He’d not told his son yet about Latrommi. Rhask stepped down,
switching on the torch, and took each step carefully. When he’d taken five steps, Bhask followed with
his torch. They both switched off the safety catches on their guns. When Yellow Rose reached the
bottom, she peered ahead, looking for Latrommi. Far ahead, down the corridor to the right, she saw the
faint outline of Latrommi. Because of her sharp eyesight, she knew she would be the only one to spot it
in this blackness. She felt a powerful surge of guilt for placing Latrommi in such danger. If she hadn’t
found the baby, if she hadn’t been carried away, all this would not have happened. She would rather die
than betray Latrommi and the children and the jungle. She would lead the evil woman away from
Latrommi and they would all die in the maze that lay ahead of them. Even as she thought of this, she
knelt down and pressed hard against a square jutting rock. It moved inwards and she knew that high
above, the throne had slid back into place. It would be impossible to move from below because of its
weight. ‘Which way?’ Varang slapped her. ‘Hurry up.’ ‘To the left,’ Yellow Rose started to move away
from the corridor that would lead them to Latrommi. ‘No. I am here,’ she heard Latrommi’s whisper.
Varang slapped Yellow Rose. ‘That’s for lying when you knew where it was.’ She took a deep breath. In a
few minutes she would have Latrommi and control all that power. She would be queen of the earth,
ruler of the universe. She moved towards the whisper, keeping a tight hold on Yellow Rose and the two
boys. If Latrommi tricked her now, she would kill them instantly. Latrommi stood at the far end of a
chamber roughly hewed out of the rock. The roof curved overheard and, apart from the entrance to it,
the other three sides were closed. She didn’t like what she felt as she took a step nearer. It felt calm
and peaceful, the air cool and fresh. Varang preferred turbulence and fear in the air, and tried to project
it. But she didn’t possess such powers, yet. There would be no escape except the way she had come.
‘Has it always stood here?’ Varang asked Yellow Rose. ‘Oh yes, always,’ Yellow Rose lied boldly. Varang
heard the innocent, confident voice and believed her. Yellow Rose tugged at her chain with all her
strength, pulling Varang along. When she reached Latrommi she lifted her arms to wrap them around it
and hug it as tightly as possible, as if was her father and her mother. ‘Don’t,’ Coolclear whispered from
inside the model of Latrommi, which the children had created from sticks, mud and berry juices. Yellow
Rose was quick to react. She loosened her hold, held the model gently, and planted a kiss on it. ‘I am so
sorry Latrommi. She forced me to tell her where you live.’ ‘You may release the children,’ Coolclear
spoke sternly to Varang. ‘No. Not until I have hold of you.’ ‘If that’s your wish.’ ‘Kal, Sasa, go and get
Latrommi. Put it in the case.’ Kal opened the case, ready to put Latrommi in it and snap it shut. The two
approached Latrommi warily. It didn’t look dangerous, but if it had such power that even Varang feared
it, they weren’t about to rush at it. They circled it first and then from what they thought was behind,
grabbed it with both hands. ‘We have it,’ they shouted, the words echoing loudly. But even as they
grabbed Latrommi, it collapsed in their arms, and the torches went out. Varang, Sasa and Kal had been
so focused on ‘Latrommi’ that they had not noticed the other children creeping out behind them in the
blackness. They had made themselves invisible with their chips. They waited for the moment when
‘Latrommi’ was grabbed—that was the signal they had agreed on. The moment it happened, they
rushed to grab the torches and smash them into the rock. Varang, Sasa and Kal were lost in the
blackness but the children weren’t. They ran, shouted, screamed, the tunnel magnifying the sounds and
disorientating the three Big People even further. ‘The opening,’ Coolclear said to Yellow Rose. ‘Grab a
child, kill them all,’ Varang screamed at her two servants as she sent a burning beam at where
‘Latrommi’ had stood. But Coolclear dodged and she missed him. Yellow Rose grabbed one of the boys
by the hand. ‘Hold on to me. Tell your friend to hold on to you.’ ‘I can’t see him,’ the boy cried. She
pulled him along in a low crouch into what seemed like a blank wall. A small opening, just large enough
for a child to wriggle through, revealed itself. Coolclear grabbed the boy’s hand and pulled. She pushed
the boy ahead of her. He balked and she pushed harder, even as Sasa and Kal rushed to get hold of her.
Coolclear and the boy slid into the small tunnel and Yellow Rose scrambled in after him, just as Sasa
grabbed her leg. She kicked out, struggling, came free and slid in. The opening closed behind her. The
children scattered into the maze of tunnels as they saw lights wobbling towards them, and vanished the
through a secret opening only they knew of. Bhask and Rhask ran in, pointing their guns at Varang.
Varang spun around. She was furious. She pointed her finger at Rhask, just as he raised his AK-47. Even
as the light hit him in the chest, his finger reflexively tightened on the trigger and sprayed out a dozen
bullets. They all went wild, except for one. That one hit Kal in the chest and he was hurled backwards by
the impact. ‘You killed my son,’ Bhask screamed back at her, pointing his automatic at Varang. But his
hand shook and he began to back away. He dropped the gun when he saw Rhask move and sit up,
rubbing his chest. The silence stretched. Varang knew she’d lost, and there would never be another
chance. She would be punished too for her failure. She felt bitterly angry with Latrommi and the
children for having outwitted her and, if there had been any children in sight, she would have killed
them. ‘Please, I beg you, don’t kill us,’ Bhask and Rhask wept and grovelled. Varang controlled her rage.
She didn’t have the power to even scratch him. She had to escape and talk to her father, he was her
inspiration, he would devise another way to capture Latrommi. ‘How do we leave here, mistress?’ Sasa
whined, weeping over her husband’s body. ‘Back the way we came of course, you stupid person. Leave
him, he’s dead.’ She picked up Rhask’s torch, and marched back the way they had come. Bhask and
Rhask hurried after her. She found the steps, and, with Sasa, Rhask and Bhask following, climbed them,
searching for the glow of sunlight. It wasn’t there when she reached the top of the stairs. Only a stone
ceiling. The opening below the throne had closed. The girl had shut it somehow when she hadn’t been
watching her. ‘There must be a lever somewhere. Look for it.’ Slowly, their torches swinging erratically,
they retraced their steps downwards. Varang cursing herself. She had been so eager that she hadn’t
watched the wretched girl closely. Somewhere was a lever she’d pressed to close the entrance. Varang
reached the bottom. There wasn’t a sign of any lever, not even a stone out of place. It all looked as one
to her sharp eyes. ‘There must be another way out,’ she said and marched down the left corridor. The
other three trailed after her, praying she would find it. They passed a large chamber and Bhask’s torch
swung into it. The two men couldnot breathe. It was filled with gold jewellery, gold coins, gold swords,
diamond necklaces and bangles, emerald earrings. And great tubs filled with rubies and diamonds. They
stood frozen with greed. ‘It’s true, there is treasure,’ they whispered hoarsely and entered the chamber
to dip their hands into a cask of diamonds, large as hen’s eggs. The stones felt cool as water. They
plunged their fists into the emeralds and gathering a handful, stuffed them into their pocket. They filled
their pockets with gold coins and diamonds. Laughing maniacally, they hung heavy gold and diamond
necklaces around their necks. When they turned to look at the others, they had gone. They were alone.
‘Wait for us,’ Bhask and Rhask screamed and ran down the corridor. They reached a fork. Left? Right?
They peered ahead, praying they’d see their torch lights. But it was completely black. ‘Varang,’ they
screamed out again and all they heard was a mournful echo. They ran down the right corridor as fast as
their fat legs would carry them. Bhask tripped over something and they looked down at a skeleton. It
had gold necklaces around its neck and gold coins and diamonds scattered around the bones. He picked
himself up and they ran again. Varang heard their screams, and didn’t reply. Let them die, she thought.
She had to focus, concentrate. Her physical power was exhausted but she still had her mental powers to
find their way out of this maze of tunnels. She had to find a child to lead her out. She closed her eyes
and her mind raced ahead, trying one tunnel … a dead-end, then another … the left fork, a dead-end …
the right one leading on … Her mind flowed through the stone walls. Where were the children? She
sensed a slight movement, and focused sharply. It was only a large rat sniffing around. Her focus shifted
deeper and then she noticed more movement. Bigger creatures. Yes, there was the girl and two boys,
crawling along a narrow passage. Now, all she had to do was find her physical way to them. They were
moving in a north-easterly direction and her probing thoughts raced through the tunnels to find a path
through the maze to reach them before they escaped. She moved quickly, followed by Sasa, keeping
her mind focused on the children.

INTO THE SUN

It was so dark in the low tunnel that Yellow Rose couldn’t even see the boy in front of her. It was when
Coolclear stopped and she bumped into him that she knew he was there. Though she did hear his
sniffling. ‘Don’t worry, my friends will have saved your friend,’ she consoled him. ‘Keep going,’ she
whispered. ‘I’m afraid…I can’t see….’ ‘You’ll see soon enough,’ Coolclear said. ‘Don’t be afraid, we’re
with you.’ They knew every inch of the way, and kept crawling along the uneven stone floor. When the
tunnel started to slope down more steeply, she counted up to one hundred. ‘You can stand now.’ She
sensed him stand hesitantly. She stood and took hold of his hand. There was enough space for her to
edge around him and stand behind Coolclear. He reached back to squeeze her hand and kept hold of it
as he walked on. Here too, even though he couldn’t see the forks in the passage, he knew which ones
would lead them out. Gradually, the passage broadened enough for them to walk side by side and the
floor no longer sloped, but ran even. They still couldn’t see anything for the pitch blackness. Finally, they
reached a wall blocking them. The boy saw it, hard and ungiving. ‘Now what do we do?’ the boy cried.
Without having to speak, Coolclear knelt so that Yellow Rose could stand on his back. She reached as
high as she could, and found the stone lever. She pressed hard and the wall began to slide back. She
jumped down. ‘Hurry,’ she said, and the three of them ran through the narrow opening, full of beautiful
light. Then they were out in the warm afternoon sun, blinking at its brightness. When they looked back,
the granite rock was already closing and when it did, it looked like a natural part of the hillside. ‘There
are only three openings in the maze,’ she said as they moved though the rocks. They were at the bottom
of the hill, and it was a good long walk around the base to reach the jungle. ‘One under the throne,
another down a corridor which the other children used and this one. But the one here can only be
opened from the inside.’ ‘Where are you taking me?’ the boy asked. ‘To meet our friends, and the other
children in the jungle,’ Coolclear said. They began to hurry down the steep, stony slope, laughing at the
thought that they would soon be home. Quite some distance away, they saw the other children who had
come out of the other escape passage, and waved to them. The other boy was with them, and he ran
over to join his friend. The two boys remained standing some distance away, looking at the jungle,
then they looked away to the open road in the distance. It led to villages and towns and cities. They had
spent their short lives in those places. ‘We are free, aren’t we?’ ‘Yes. Your owner will soon be dead. No
one can get out of the maze.’ ‘I don’t want to live in the jungle,’ he said and his friend nodded in
agreement. ‘I want to find my parents. They sold me because they were very poor. Maybe they’re still in
our home.’ ‘But the jungle’s a beautiful place to live in,’ Yellow Rose was baffled by their reluctance to
join them. ‘We all love each other, the animals all love us too.’ ‘It’s not my home, it’s yours.’ He waved
to the vast sky. ‘I want to be out there. There are lots of things to do and many ways to make money.
You should come with us.’ Yellow Rose looked at the sky and the land, stretching out interminably. She’d
never really looked before, restricted as her vision had been, by the jungle and their small life. What was
there for her? She didn’t know, though she had often thought about how different her life would have
been if her parents had not died in the plane crash. At times, she had looked up and seen a tiny, silvery
plane silently moving towards an unknown place. Where had it come from? Where was it going? To her
home, wherever that was? In that place would be her parents’ parents, brothers, sisters, friends, a
house. She could search for them. How would she recognize them? And where would she start? The
journey could be long and endless, and those people could have forgotten her parents over the years.
How would she live? And she would miss all the children, the jungle that was home, the only one she
knew. She shivered, uncertain, envious of the boy who stood resolutely watching her. He had parents to
look for, he knew where he had come from. He remembered a home, a father and mother, friends, even
though he had been sold away from them. He could find them and be embraced and loved again. She
looked across at the jungle, knowing there was little time left. Coolclear waited too, watching her. He
saw the sad longing in her eyes and knew what she was thinking. He said nothing, she would have to
make up her own mind. No doubt, he too had parents but it would be impossible to find them after all
these years and he suppressed that longing in him. Yellow Rose looked at the boys. They had snub
noses, brown eyes, gaunt brown cheeks. She wanted to remember them and she went over and
embraced each one tightly. For the first time, the boys smiled as they returned her hug. ‘What’s the
hurry? The jungle’s not going anywhere.’ ‘But it is. There’s no place for the jungle in this world,’ she
whispered. ‘Other men will come with machines to destroy it one day and how long can we fight the Big
People. We have to go now. I hope you find your family.” She looked ahead. The jungle grew closer and
closer, a wall of high trees, and she heard the sounds of birds calling and the hum of insects. Some
distance away she heard the soft trumpet of Saahoom welcoming her back. The children were waiting
for her and calling too, ‘Yellow Rose, Coolclear, hurry.’ Coolclear and Yellow Rose and ran to their
friends. All of them, hugged and kissed her, tugging her along with them. She looked back. The boys
hadn’t moved and were watching her. She raised her hand and waved once, and prayed they would be
as happy as she was now. They returned the wave. She turned away, and entered her only home.
THE VANISHING ACT

Varang hurried. She began to run with Sasa panting behind her. She couldn’t lose the memory now. She
had ‘seen’ the girl and the boys reach a dead end. Then the girl had climbed on the boy’s back and had
done something. The next moment sunlight had flooded the darkness and the children had run out. And
then the sunlight vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. She twisted and turned down the tunnels,
led by her thoughts which raced ahead, finding their way. Finally, she reached the wall. She reached up,
feeling for whatever the girl had found. ‘Shine the torch you fool,’ she screamed at her servant. In the
light, she saw the rectangular protrusion. That had to be it, the rest of the rock face was quite even. She
pressed it hard. For a long moment, nothing happened and she thought for moment that she was at the
wrong dead end. Then the wall moved, slowly, and the sunlight flowed in. She hurried out, followed by
Sasa, and the opening closed behind her. There was no time to waste. She had to catch the girl and the
boys before they escaped into the jungle. She shielded her eyes from the sun’s sudden glare, blinked a
few times and then, when she focused, she stopped dead in her tracks. Sasa bumped into her. ‘Where’s
it gone?’ she whispered. The jungle wasn’t there, the river wasn’t there. They had vanished. Where the
jungle had once stood was a vast rocky plain, dotted with dusty, dry lantana bushes. The plain stretched
out as far as the eye could see. And apart from the soft whisper of a breeze, there wasn’t another sound
to be heard. The deathly silence returned when the breeze dropped. There wasn’t even a bird in sight.
Varang saw the two boys standing, looking out towards where the jungle had once stood. They were
frozen in place, and didn’t look around when Varang approached them. Her footsteps on the gravel
were the only sounds to be heard. They spoke to each other. ‘It was there when she entered the jungle
and then it just went away …’ The other boy merely repeated ‘It was there when she entered the jungle
and then it just went away …’ They began to shiver in fear of something they could not understand.
Varang passed them to stand at the border where the jungle had once been. For the first time she
experienced a sense of despair. She had not seen Latrommi, not even spoken to it and now it had
vanished, taking with it the jungle, the animals, insects, birds, the children, and even the water.
‘Where’s it gone?’ Sasa asked in bewilderment. ‘To the future or even to the past or to a star safer than
this planet. It knew if the jungle remained, it would be eventually destroyed. Who knows where it’s
taken the children and animals? I’ll never find it again.’ In anger and bitterness, she added. ‘Never.’ She
knew Ecilam would never forgive her for such a failure. She left the boys still talking to themselves, and
trudged away across the stony plain.