Chapter 3 (Manju bua, Cobra and Mongoose)

Index of Journals

Back around when we were kids (second and third), Manju bua had once told a short to me (to us actually, the kids, Anu, Prashant, Srishti and me. It was ‘The story of a Snake, and a pet Mongoose’. 

A family of four, the husband, the wife, and the infant baby, and the pet Mongoose lived happily in a house. Once the husband and wife had to go out of the house, and they could not have taken the baby with them. They sorted out a plan to let Mongoose take care of the sleeping baby being in the house, and they would be able go and come back care free. They dressed up, fed and put baby to rest in his swing-baby-bed, teach Mongoose to take care of the house and the baby, and never leave the door until they return. They left peacefully. The morning had already turned into afternoon; the Mongoose hadn’t moved from his place, baby slept peacefully. Light dimmed further and putting Mongoose on test. A snake had found its way here. The Mongoose stood in its way to the baby. Blood shedding, jaw dropping, screeching, scratching, screaming, wild-fighting happened between the two. The snake pushed the blood trail from the door steps to the baby. The wounded snake leapt to the baby bed; and Mongoose to the snake’s neck. A little bad timing of either one could have taken the baby’s life away. Mongoose got the snake by its neck, and ended the duel. Red mouthed, blood bathed Mongoose came back and sat down just the way the master had seen him sitting last on the door. The couple came back and was horrified with the blood spread everywhere. They see the gory Mongoose running to them, and presume that their baby was eaten up by the animal. The owner picks up a bamboo stick, and smashes the life out of the speechless animal’s head. The Mongoose lays lifeless as the husband-wife run from over it to see the baby. The baby had just woken up from a peaceful sleep, staring at its parents from its wide and dumb eyes, by its bed side laid the snake’s body, and the couple cried forever for what they had done.

I was very small when she must have told me this story. She could make the voice, the childish, cute, loveable convincing voice that a seven year old can’t connect to. Manju buaji has always had a way with children, it is just that now she doesn’t have the energy, but the mother nature-traits are still there, seen when she would have to talk Anushka (her younger daughter who’s just entered first grade) out/ into something. The story itself and buaji’s story-telling art left an impression on my mind.
I read this story again in my sixth standard supplementary Hindi text book.

Note: Mongoose is called Nevla in Hindi.

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