The stupid stupid stupid son of the Father!
There was once a Father, and his son.
While the Father was the wisest man to ever walk and live under the Sun,
the son?
Not so much.
Yes. Like any father, Father still loved his son.
For he knew, now they were two, but someday, there will be just one.
So Father had to go, for 21 days each month.
To work hard and hard and very hard
to build his plan.
A plan that would stand, when he cannot,
“..and then son will never have to worry”, he thought.
—--------
Where are you taking my Father
He asked his khura.
“Son, he is a man of age.
I must take him to the mage.”
Khura replied.
“If we don’t come back in a week,
that is 7 suns...Son? You know how to count 7 suns don’t you?”
“EHH! Of course I do.” he lied.
“If we don’t come back in a week,
that is 7 suns, open the letter I left on the kitchen rack, and follow the instructions.”
—--------
Son first went to the pig pen.
“Gahori da, gahori da,
How do you count 7 suns?” he asked the pigs.
“No idea son.” they shrugged, “why don’t you ask bor ghoror mekuri?”
“Bor ghoror mekuri, o’ bor ghoror mekuri,
How do you count 7 suns?” he asked the cat.
“No idea son.” she replied, “why don’t you ask the hens?”
“Murgi maai, Murgi maai,
How do you count 7 suns?” he asked the hen.
“No idea son.” she replied, “why don’t you ask my brother?”
“O Cockaaideu…COCKAAIDEU!
The son has a question for you.”
“Cockaaideu, how do you count 7 suns?” he asked the rooster.
“Ah! That’s easy!
I do it everyday!
Have you heard me kokoro-kooo-kooo?” he asked
“EHH! Of course I have!” the son replied.
“Well, just count my kokoro-kooo-kooos.
When there are 7 kokoro-kooo-kooos,
That’s 7 suns, son.”
—--------
Seven days later -
“KOKORO-KOOO-KOOO…”
Went the eighth kokoro-kooo-kooo.
And the son was devastated too.
Father is not coming back.
He fought back his tears,
And collected the letter from the kitchen rack.
It said -
My son,
Leave for the Hollong forest at first light. Go west, follow the sun.
After seven suns, you will see the first hollong tree. And then another. And then another.
Between the first hollong tree,
till the last one your eyes can see,
take a long walk, and you will find two things I have left for you -
One -
Our heritage.
Your inheritance.
The fruits of my labour.
This will take care of you and generations to come, if you take good care of it.
Two -
Resources.
To help you take care of our heritage.
Love. Father.
_______
When son took a walk till the last hollong tree,
that his eyes could see,
He found himself standing under the first hollong tree.
The last hollong tree, was in fact, the first hollong tree.
He just walked a full circle
drawn out with big big big hollong trees.
It enclosed a lush green forest -
Loud and alive.
Abundant. And a little bit wet.
At the center of the forest was a big big big pile of bricks.
Bricks of gold. Stacked neatly and carefully.
As tall as his eyes could see.
A towering monument of Father’s hard work.
“Father was always a little mysterious, no?
But who knew. This? EHH!” he thought.
As dark clouds in the sky grew closer,
Son began to worry about the gold bricks.
He began to make a plan.
A plan, in honour of his old man.
Must take care of our heritage, Father said.
Must make a shelter for the gold,
Must protect it when it hails and it pours.
Son must hire some men,
who will shelter it from the skies,
And guard it from the land with its evil eyes.
In came the men,
and a deal was made.
“It’s all good,” they said
“But we will need a place to stay,
so we must cut down some wood.”
“EHH! The forest is laden with trees.”
The son replied, “Go help yourselves.”
So out went the men and cleared some land.
‘Thakk-thakk-thakk’ screamed the axes in their hands.
Where hundreds of birds lived,
Twenty wooden cottages now stand.
In came the men again,
“We are tired, we need some food.” they said.
“EHH! The forest is laden with fruits.”
The son said, “Go help yourselves.”
Everyday the men worked very very very hard.
They sheltered the bricks from the skies,
And protected it from the land with its evil eyes.
Everyday at work, the men grew,
and became smarter at what they do.
And to do what they do,
they would always need a thing,
Or two.
So they would chop down some more trees
To do the job they were hired to do.
One day, when the summer was at peak
and sweat ran down the men’s cheeks-
“Son, you must pay us with a brick each!” they demanded
“EHH! My friends! I cannot part with the bricks for they are my heritage.
But you can take some land as wage.”
So out went the men
to clear some more land.
With land this size,
They can now bring home wives.
“Son, you must give us a brick each
For now we have more mouths to feed.”
“EHH! When there’s such good venison in the woods,
so tender and sweet? Go help yourselves.”
The son said.
As days passed,
The men grew more and they grew fast!
Not just wise, but also in size!
So they ate more,
And then they had babies who ate even more.
Then the babies grew and had babies of their own.
“We need more food! More wood! More venison!”
The men would scream every morning.
“Wow they are the size of giants!”
The son noticed one day.
—------------
Soon, the news spread.
About a son who had an army of giants guarding his monument of gold bricks.
It was no secret anymore.
People from the villages noticed as the neighbouring Hollong forest became a little bit quieter each day.
First the birds and the crickets became inaudible.
Then the distant roars and howls stopped.
Even the notorious monkeys,
were dearly missed.
And the leaves. The leaves, they just
.
.
.
.
rustled less.
Soon, the villagers went to investigate.
And found a trail of bones.
Bones of the forest.
“No no no. This is attracting too much attention. It could compromise the bricks.”
Worried the son.
“We cannot have people coming in here,” he announced.
“Save the bricks, but bury the bones.
Repeat after me.
“Save the bricks, but bury the bones.”
“Save the bricks, but bury the bones.
“Save the bricks, but bury the bones.”
The giants chanted as they went back to feeding.
A month later,
The giants left in search of a new feeding ground.
While son crawled on his knees towards
the last fruit that fell off the forest's skeleton.
He somehow found the energy
to pick it up and put it in his mouth.
As he slowly chewed the only thing he has eaten in the last 3 days,
he saw a familiar silhouette standing 10 feet from him.
“Eh khura!” his voice was barely audible.
Khura was standing where the first hollong tree used to be.
He is staring at the distance but couldn’t believe what his eyes could see.
“Khura! Come see, I saved our heritage!” he said, pointing his finger to the pile of gold bricks.
“No you didn’t!
You stupid stupid stupid boy! You fed it to the giants!”
Assamese terms used:
Khura - Father’s younger brother
Gahori da - Brother Pig
Bor ghoror mekuri - The Cat from that big house
Murgi maai - Mother Hen
Cockaaideu or Kokaideu - Elder brother
