The Emerald Guardian (Short Story)

 

 

 

The Emerald Guardian

By

Shahzad Aslam

(Translated from Punjabi)

 

 

 The night ripped open east of the Fakirian Vali Canal, and into that tear stepped Shera and Jaani, vibrating with a fear they couldn't name. The whole landscape wasn't just dark; it was drenched in dread. Where fear took root, nothing else grew. Fear warped things, twisting their true shapes. It birthed its own monstrous children among the living. It painted trees a curdled, sour green and humans an unhealthy, bilious shade.

Fear itself stalked them, a club held tight in its unseen fist. Even a small, one-eyed man could become a towering, terrifying presence. The new DIG of Sargodha had purged his territory of every dacoit and proclaimed offender, simply by the sheer terror his name invoked. The world might have quaked before these outlaws, but they, in turn, knew only one fear: the DIG. He wasn't a man of many words; his truest pronouncements came with the cold, hard click of a pistol's trigger.

The cold winter wind pierced them both, chilling the warmth from their bodies. To their left, across the canal, lay the famous Mona Depot, sprawling over ten thousand acres. Built in the early 20th century for the military, it had housed horses and donkeys since the British era. The still water of the canal, singing tales of rivers, flowed into the fields, turning a vibrant green. Even the police, let alone thieves, hesitated to approach the depot. Birds from the depot would fly towards the jungle, but no bird from the jungle would befriend them or venture that way. A rift had also opened between Shera and Jaani. They had started to blend this jungle with the "idiot" jungle. Pistols, loaded with bullets, hung at Shera and Jaani's hips. They trusted no one, so one hand always rested on their holsters. Their faces were hidden in their shawls. Despite the biting cold, they had tied turbans to conceal their identities in the darkness. Humans slept in their dens, but the sounds of jungle animals made the night's darkness even more terrifying. Shera and Jaani weren't afraid of these animal sounds; they feared the hidden humans in their dens, who sometimes ventured out at night to hunt the quails sleeping on the jungle trees. Shera knew that humans wouldn't waste bullets on animals, but in the dark, out of fear of another human, they wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger.

"Do animals of other species fill pots with blood out of fear of their own kind, like humans do?" Shera often wondered, astonished. He found no answer but concluded that humans kill other humans out of fear of their own death. For them, there's no greater pleasure than revenge. Only after killing their own kind did humans conceive of judgment day. When Shera killed his brother's murderer, the pleasure he felt surpassed any fear. The thrill of killing his enemy had not faded even now.

Shera and Jaani walked a mile, then turned east. They had spent many such nights, drinking the cups of danger under the moonlight. Today, their destination was a ruined hut deep within the jungle, where its former resident, a holy man, had moved to the city, fed up with the wilderness. Upon returning, that holy man would tell everyone: "These cities are even larger jungles than the jungle itself."

Shera and Jaani were returning from that jungle, heading towards the "idiot" jungle, full of animals. In this cold night, even a small rustle would send shivers down a person's spine, but now, more than fear, they felt hunger and cold. Hunger, too, is the mother of fear. They had faced both fear and hunger. They constantly heard stories of outlaws and traversed difficult paths. They had learned to play with fear. Fear resides not in places, but in hearts, flowing like blood through the body. Shera had long shed the fear of places; all places were the same to him.

"Outlaws are always betrayed by their friends." This was a fear that had settled in Shera's life like stagnant pond water.

Shera and Jaani walked, talking. The night was like a vacuum, in which their voices were clear as the water from a mountain's glassy ice. They passed an animal enclosure, and Jaani looked at Shera in the darkness as if they shared a thought.

"Should we untie an animal?" Jaani asked Shera.

"It's hard enough to protect ourselves. Dragging a voiceless animal by a rope around its neck feels wrong to me." Shera replied, quickening his pace. He feared Jaani might insist. Seeing the muzzles on the animals reminded Shera of police handcuffs. The sound of those cuffs echoed in his ears. No matter how far he ran, that sound followed him. It was rumored that Shera and Jaani had killed around seventy-odd people. When Shera heard these rumors, he would burst into laughter.

"A man's shadow is greater than the man himself," Jaani would tell everyone new he met. Shera knew that this shadow would one day become night and devour one's very existence.

Shera and Jaani entered the jungle, heading towards the holy man's hut. They walked on, but the hut didn't seem to get any closer. It was as if the hut itself was running away from them. This wasn't the first hut that had hidden from them; all huts refused them shelter. They spent the entire night walking through the jungle but didn't find the hut. Morning arrived, and they realized that in the darkness of the night, they had lost their way and wandered through the jungle in the opposite direction of the hut. When they turned back, all the birds of the jungle had woken up. Their chirping filled the jungle with commotion. The birds, mistaking them for hunters, hid behind the leaves of the trees. The two walked along the कच्चा path between the trees and reached the holy man's dwelling. Their bodies were tired from being awake. If they hadn't found the dwelling then, they would have simply spread a sheet in the bushes and slept. When they entered the dwelling, the holy man was sleeping on a straw bed under a quilt. Even the creak of the door didn't wake him. The smell of hashish and herbs filled the dwelling. They called the holy man many times, but he didn't wake up. If he had suspected theft or any other harm, perhaps he would have woken up. Shera and Jaani were sure that the holy man wouldn't wake up easily. They both grabbed the holy man by his arms, lifted him, and sat him in a corner. They themselves lay down on the holy man's bed. In a few minutes, they fell asleep as if they had inhaled an anesthetic. The holy man leaned against the wall and slept for a while, but then his eyes opened. Seeing two strangers sprawled on his bed, the holy man felt as if he was dreaming. His dream quickly shattered. He was like a hen whose coop had been invaded by a snake. The holy man got up, came out of the dwelling, and looked around as if searching for something. He spotted some straw near a tree. The straw was cold and wet from the dew. The holy man picked up a pile of dry straw from below and came back into the dwelling. He flattened it against a wall and lay down on it as if he had been sleeping there all along. The holy man woke up at noon, but Shera and Jaani slept until late afternoon. The holy man had seen the pistols lying at their heads, so he sat there, apprehensive. The holy man had a hunch that these guests would become the owners of the dwelling. When Shera and Jaani woke up from their sleep, their first question to the holy man was about food. Hunger had shown them its true face. Hearing about food, the holy man stared at them blankly. He didn't know whether to cry or laugh. The one who himself begged for food now had people who would take from him. The holy man took out dry bread from a pot and placed it before them. The holy man had lit a fire with dry wood outside and placed a pot on it. Its smoke began to enter the dwelling.

"What's that fire you've started outside?" Jaani asked the holy man.

"I'm making tea for you," the holy man replied.

"Alright, we'll eat the bread by soaking it in the tea," Shera and Jaani shared this thought. When the holy man placed the cups of tea before them, they dipped the bread in the tea and chewed it as if it were a delicacy. Even after eating, their hunger remained. The holy man begged for food from the residents of houses scattered throughout the jungle. Sometimes, they would even give it to him willingly. In the evening, the holy man went out to beg for food, now for his new guests as well. As the holy man was about to leave, Shera called out to him. The holy man turned back and looked at Shera. With his big mustache and narrow eyes, Shera seemed like the king of the jungle.

"Tell them! Shera has arrived." Shera said to the holy man with a growl. The holy man, chanting Shera's name, walked towards the houses near the jungle's rest house. There was no shortage of chickens, milk, and vegetables in the jungle. Along with forest employees, other residents of the jungle were happy to provide food to the holy man. When the holy man knocked on the door of a forest employee's house and loudly asked for food, the employee came out. Behind him, a child, clutching his father's shirt, came out to see the holy man. The child was surprised by the holy man's long hair, dark clothes, and the rosaries hanging around his neck. He stared at the holy man through the glass of his wonder. When the employee poured milk into the holy man's bowl, the holy man, who had never asked for anything before, stared at the employee with his mouth agape.

"Shera and a companion have also come. They also need food," the holy man spoke, bowing slightly. It was the first time he had ever spoken to ask for something. Shera had not come here for the first time; the entire jungle knew him. Those who gladly gave food to the holy man would now slaughter chickens out of fear of Shera. They wouldn't even complain to the police about Shera. They were sure that eventually, he would escape and return.

"Who would confront someone who bears no burden?"

That night, Shera and Jaani ate to their heart's content after many days. The holy man also ate his dry bread with milk. Shera and Jaani hadn't even fully savored their dominion over the jungle when two thieves, escaping from the Mona Depot, entered the jungle. Soldiers and police were in hot pursuit. The thieves had extensive experience in escaping. They ran like rabbits whose lives were in danger from hunting dogs. These thieves had attempted to steal the purebred horses from the depot that were used for breeding. Some time ago, when local people complained to the station house officer about their horses being stolen, he simply laughed and replied, "What's the need for keeping horses now?" Then, these two thieves destroyed horse stables in villages on both sides of the Jhelum River. The thieves needed good horses for the mares they had stolen. Seeing the horses at the Mona Depot, they scaled the depot walls, and when the soldiers pursued them, they scaled the same walls like jackals and fled towards the jungle. The fleeing thieves realized that the horse business wasn't for them. The thieves ran like trained soldiers. The thieves practiced running daily; how far could the soldiers run after them? The army and police didn't give up on the chase. They searched the jungle as a comb passes through hair. They didn't find the thieves, but when the police returned, a dozen wild boars were found dead near the rest house. The police and army forgot about the thieves and became engrossed in the stories of these boars. After all, what horse had these thieves stolen that they needed to be found? The poor boars were killed for nothing.

At the slightest rustle in the jungle, Shera and Jaani's ears would perk up. The police had barely set foot in the jungle when they knew. The thieves, too, reached there directly and took a breath. Like calls to like. Even though Shera and Jaani weren't thieves, thieves and proclaimed offenders were animals tied to the same trough. They also walked on paths where no one else dared to tread except outlaws. Shera had met thieves on these paths before. Inside the holy man's dwelling in the jungle, four "Columbus" gathered. Shera hid the two thieves under the straw on the dwelling's roof, and he himself put on a shawl over his head, picked up a shovel, and pretended to be busy with work. The holy man sat outside the dwelling, a wooden stick in hand, grinding herbs. Two policemen passing by peered into the dwelling and then stood outside. They called Shera and Jaani closer and asked them about the thieves, and they shook their heads in denial.

"Who are you?" one policeman asked Shera. Jaani's throat dried up at this question.

"We plant new trees here in the jungle and nurture them," Shera replied, swinging the shovel in the air. The policemen were not skilled in investigation; they believed Shera's words. The thieves also lay under the straw on the roof until evening. Their bodies were covered in rashes. The thieves initially enjoyed the itching on their bodies, but then it turned into a burning sensation. In the evening, all four of them and the holy man sat warm in quilts inside the dwelling. Outside the dwelling, the holy man placed dry wood in the straw and lit it. The light of the fire further intensified the warmth. At night, Channan Christian left a bottle of first-rate liquor in the holy man's dwelling. The dinner that night was arranged by the elder Chaudhry of the village bordering the jungle. After two glasses of liquor each, they remembered the holy man, who was sitting quietly. Jaani filled half a glass with liquor and topped it with Pepsi, then handed it to the holy man. Just then, there was a commotion outside the dwelling, and Jaani went out, pistol in hand. The watchman was standing outside with food. Earlier, he used to bring food for the policemen from the Chaudhry's house; today, he was serving food to thieves. They all started eating together. Since Shera and Jaani had arrived, the holy man had also been getting a variety of food, but he still didn't touch the meat. He loved birds and animals.

"How did you come up with the idea of breaking into the Mona Depot?" Jaani asked the thieves, chewing on a piece of goat meat.

"It was just a bad time when we saw horses as big as huts and the idea of untying them came to us," one of the thieves said.

"What would you do with the horses?" Jaani asked again.

"We needed these horses for the mares we had stolen. A colt of this breed sells for millions. We were going to give up thieving and start a business," the second thief said.

"Do you only steal livestock? Why don't you steal anything else?" Shera asked, burping.

"Stealing livestock is our ancestral profession. We can't tarnish our ancestors' name by stealing anything else," the thief replied. This answer struck Shera as unique. Hearing this, Jaani burst into laughter.

"You may laugh, but everyone is connected to their ancestors' work. Theft is a profession just like medicine is a profession. It has its own science," the older thief tried to explain to Shera.

"My grandfather's touch alone would make animals follow him. Even Yaaro, the great tracker of the area who could find thieves by their footprints, couldn't follow my grandfather's trail," the thief said, surprising Shera and Jaani.

"Was your grandfather ever caught?" Jaani asked the thief.

"Once, my grandfather mistakenly untied the station house officer's buffalo. The officer beat my grandfather mercilessly, crushing his bones, but my grandfather didn't open his mouth. The buffalo wasn't found, but my grandfather couldn't walk anymore. From that day on, my father became a vagabond. My father has never untied a station house officer's buffalo since. The first buffalo my father untied, he tied it outside his sister's door on the banks of the Jhelum. My father's first theft was an auspicious sign for his sister," the thief told Jaani, laughing.

"And you've left the station house officer and gone to the soldiers," Shera told the thieves.

"Our work is also coming to an end, so we thought of this last theft. Starting something new has its own fears. Those who walk on worn paths are afraid to step on new ground. The fear of slipping doesn't let them step forward," the thief said, revealing the inner layers of his life.

By this time, the holy man had also started to get high. He began to make sounds to tell his story.

"The prison of flesh is the greatest prison. The bodily shell doesn't allow freedom." Those sitting there tried to decipher the holy man's words, but no one understood.

"Becoming an outlaw to seek revenge and living in jungles and wilderness is no profession. How did you end up on this path?" The thief also shifted the burden of the conversation from himself to Shera's shoulders. The holy man and Jaani picked up the utensils and placed them in the niche beside the dwelling's door. The holy man stoked the fire and brought it inside. Warming himself by the fire, Shera began to untie the knots of his life, revealing his inner turmoil.

"What desires did I have for a life on this path? When it fell upon me, I had to bear it," Shera began to tell the thief.

Shera remembered the day his younger brother lay face down on the ground, soaked in blood. This memory filled Shera's mind with fear, and his hair stood on end. He shook off this fear from his body and then became engrossed in conversation.

"The life that was deeply rooted in the ground like a rice plant after my brother's murder scattered like straw. I thought killing my brother's murderers would bring peace, but since then, I've been running in sun and cold," Shera spoke as if he were chilled by the cold and searching for stairs to sunbathe on his house's roof.

"I was under the illusion that by putting the murderers to eternal sleep, I would extinguish the raging fire within me. The fire did extinguish, but the storm that swept through my life still carries me away today." Saying this, Shera fell silent. He needed peace. In the silent darkness of that cold night, he felt a lack of peace, and for that peace, he told everyone to sleep. Morning came, and the two thieves, Kallu and Matli, went their separate ways. They didn't live far from home. By dawn, they would finish their work and wake their families from their prayers. Today, they went straight home; the police hadn't tracked the thieves anyway. These two brothers were the famous thieves of the area, Kallu and Matli.

That same day, late in the afternoon, four more of Shera's friends arrived. They liked this jungle very much. This jungle was a fence in itself. It was not easy to find a person in such a large jungle. With their arrival, the quail hunters also turned their attention elsewhere. The sounds of gunshots stopped coming from the jungle at night. The birds also started completing their sleep peacefully in the darkness of the night. The jungle, once again, began to tell tales of land and time with the birds. The jungle also began to spread its mysteries, laying thorns on the paths. It was as if the jungle had started to enforce its own laws. Sparrows, peacocks, parrots, pigeons, and doves made such a commotion before sunset as if they were settling accounts for the entire day with the jungle's plants. The cuckoo kept enchanting the entire jungle with its songs. In front of the jungle's rest house, tall bottle palm trees with thick trunks and their frond-like arms swayed at the edge of a large patch of grass. These trees, having experienced the old times that transpired in the jungle, also taught invaluable lessons of their experience to the young trees. They held all the formulas for a long life. They had witnessed countless generations of humans being born and dying before their eyes. The young plants were happy to hear their formulas, that their seeds grew in this jungle; because even a single tree in solitude would last only a few days. Loneliness, like humans, kills a tree prematurely. The plants growing in the farmers' fields would mourn their captivity, looking at the jungle from afar. It was famous among the jungle trees that only those flowers wither on the branch that have thorns as their protectors. There are plenty of others who would pluck the other flowers. The flowers also knew this secret, and therefore they only bloomed in hidden places among the large trees or on the highest branches of tall trees. They had learned this secret from their ancestors that beauty is preserved only by being hidden or by standing in a high place. The entire jungle was connected through its blades of grass. If an event happened on one side of the jungle, the green blades of grass would inform the entire jungle about that event. Once, the wolves left the jungle. Those who grew vegetables here pursued them. The jungle began to change with their departure. It felt as if a family member had left, upset. The fear of goats and sheep vanished, and the jungle began to fill with them. Peepal, mulberry, sheesham, and other plants that grew on the canal banks began to disappear. The insects and animals that depended on them also vanished. It was as if the jungle had fallen ill. Ten years later, the vegetable growers' contract ended, and the wolves also returned. At that time, the jungle was desolate. With their arrival, plants began to grow again on the canal banks, and the water also slowed its pace. These plants grew as if they were in a hurry to grow up. There was also room for otters. They also made their dens in the jungle. Slowly, the jungle realized that wolves were its protectors, not humans.

Shera's four new companions who had come to the jungle built huts with walls of bushes. They closed the gaps in the roof with straw and made straw beds inside to live. They built two huts of their own choosing, although the entire jungle was free to build more there. Jaani also told them stories that made them feel like they were expert riders on new paths.

"Chirag Bali, Raji Tarar, and Apha Musali also hid here and spent their days. This jungle feels like home to us," Jaani told them.

Hearing Jaani's words, the four of them were as happy as if their names had been written alongside the great warriors who fought in the Battle of Panipat. They, too, began to think of themselves as Chirag Bali. A question about Chirag Bali's name stuck in Jaani's mind. He carried this question and stood before Shera.

"If Chirag Bali's vendetta began before the creation of Pakistan, then why didn't his vendetta end with gaining independence?" Jaani asked Shera.

"You're also foolish! Vendettas have their own territory. They slowly fester. When the enemy stands before you, vendetta hisses out of your nostrils," Shera tried to explain to Jaani. Jaani still didn't understand.

"Many outlaws who fought vendettas with Hindus and Sikhs walked around with puffed-up chests, but Bali still remained an outlaw," Jaani continued.

"Don't lower vendetta by calling greed 'vendetta' now. There is no greater feeling than drinking the enemy's blood. Bali's enemies were here, and the battlefield was here too. Neither Hindus nor Sikhs remained here, nor was any battlefield left. Therefore, their Muslim enemies, who were outlaws, became free with independence. Their greed was victorious. Anyway, we Punjabis do everything in a hurry. Nothing done in a hurry is clean. Even when committing injustice, our hurry doesn't end. This is how we Punjabis are." There were many questions in Shera's statement for which Jaani didn't need answers, and so he remained silent.

Shera's group stayed in the dense part of the jungle. From a distance, no one could tell that outlaws had made their den in the jungle. Now, food was also being cooked there. There was no shortage of firewood. Among Shera's new companions was a barber who was well-versed in cooking. Dinno, the barber, would cook curries with a bandolier of bullets strapped to him. With this bandolier, his fear remained far away. When the holy man sang the kafis of Shah Hussain, Dinno would respond with his own folk songs and love ballads. Looking at them, it didn't seem like they had come here to stay for just a few days. The Chaudhry of the nearby village had sent cots and quilts at Shera's request. Slowly, they also began to accumulate more belongings. The jungle, too, began to consider them its own, like other animals. These animals didn't have conflicts over land and women to feud with other animals. The holy man would sit under the drumstick tree near his dwelling, singing kafis in the melodies of bhajan kirtan, and the drumstick tree would shower its flowers upon the holy man's head.

One night, the thieves Kallu and Matli also came to live in the jungle with their horses. The police had started an operation to catch the thieves. Still, these thieves had not given up hope of stealing horses from the Mona Depot. They also cleared a spot under the bushes and arranged for themselves to sleep. The straw they found was very useful to them. The holy man, seeing so many people now, felt as if the outside world had changed. Everyone was entering the jungle. People from the outside world were not alone; they also carried the burdens of greed and fear.

"This jungle will no longer be a jungle," the drumstick tree told the holy man. Horse manure had begun to spread beneath it. The jungle also didn't like this, as it knew that peace never accompanied this animal. The other animals of the jungle also hid and watched, agitated by the horses' neighing, and this part of the jungle began to feel alien to them. Chaudhry Karam Din of the nearby village also saw those days approaching, for which he had put off certain actions. The jungle block officer kept tempting him to take the contract for felling the jungle trees, but he never agreed. With Shera's arrival, he himself went to the block officer. The block officer took Chaudhry Karam Din to the DFO's office. Everything was planned there. Within ten days, Chaudhry got the contract to cut trees. Chaudhry gathered the laborers from his village and entered the jungle. That day, the jungle trees rustled their leaves, making a commotion. There was no one to listen to them. Chaudhry's laborers began to saw the thick-trunked sheesham and eucalyptus trees. There were nests of parrots and doves on those trees. Small chicks in the nests began to chirp loudly at the sound of the saw. Their parents were carefree in the guava orchard outside the jungle, pecking at ripe guavas. When the first sheesham tree fell, flocks of birds flew up towards the sky. The parrots clinging to the branches in the orchard also heard the sound of the sheesham falling. They flew from the orchard to the direction from which the birds had flown away in fear. The birds told the parrots about the saw, and they flapped their wings with all their might. They were worried about their chicks, whose wings were not yet strong enough to fly. A dove cried out, "Sheesham, my children's secret is gone!" raising the sky above its head. Before the birds could arrive, the chicks, along with their nests, had fallen to the ground. Two of Shera's companions had also come with Chaudhry's laborers. They wore bandoliers on their shoulders, with no empty slots for bullets. Chaudhry's laborers continued to cut down trees. The birds, leaving their eggs and chicks, reached the bottle palm trees near the rest house and began to make a ruckus. That night, no bird in the jungle slept. The animals also hid in the dense jungle. The birds who could sense an earthquake beforehand had no idea about the coming days. Chaudhry's laborers would cut down small trees for wages, break them into pieces, carry them on their heads, and take them home. No one questioned them. Everyone feared Shera's companions. When the guard complained to the block officer after seeing this, he ran to Chaudhry. Chaudhry was a clever man; he directly took Shera's name. The block officer already feared Shera, so he remained silent. Chaudhry now openly began to clear the jungle. Chaudhry even started cutting down trees for which he didn't have a contract. Shera continued to get his share. The block officer couldn't stop Chaudhry due to fear of Shera, so he also demanded his and the DFO's share. The jungle trees became worried that the contractor would saw down the entire jungle. The scream rising from the depths of the felling trees reached the other trees through the blades of grass. The trees held their breath. Their leaves turned yellow with fear, and the air seemed to become polluted. A strange smell spread through the entire jungle like smoke. All the trees sensed this new danger. What did humans care about this smell? They continued to cut down trees as before. Smelling the odor, insects came running. They climbed onto the humans' feet and bit them, but they were broken into two pieces and fell to the ground with a slap. The insects fled like a defeated army. Finally, the trees united to ask Shera for help. The banyan, the sarpanch of the trees, also called the birds near the rest house. They all agreed to spread the sarpanch's message throughout the jungle. They talked to the ascetic mulberry tree, but it remained silent in its own mood. Finally, the entire jungle decided that only the drumstick tree could talk to humans. Parrots, doves, quails, and sparrows gathered and sat on the drumstick tree. There was also a crow with them. He was the lawyer for all the birds. Even the outlaws sitting in the holy man's dwelling were annoyed by his commotion. The drumstick tree itself now felt the jungle was sad. It was living with a desire to settle somewhere else, like the holy man. It had also stopped bearing pods. Its leaves had fallen, leaving it bare. Only three or four flowers remained with a few remaining leaves. The drumstick tree had fallen ill. The holy man knew the drumstick tree's ailment. The birds flew from its dry branches when it agreed to talk to Shera through the holy man. The holy man also left the commotion and sat under the drumstick tree, near the horses. Three or four flowers of the drumstick tree fell on the holy man's head. The holy man raised his head and looked at the tree. He began to see the drumstick tree's helplessness. The leaves rustled with the wind, and the holy man felt as if they were talking. The holy man felt pity for the jungle's condition and also felt sad. The holy man knew that this jungle would change now. The greed of the outside world had turned towards the jungle. The holy man also knew that only one animal could cleanse the lives of the jungle animals, and that was man, who considered himself the wisest of all creatures.

The holy man understood the drumstick tree's message. He knew the language of the jungle. To learn this tongue, he had left the outside world and settled there. The holy man, bowing slightly, went to Shera. He didn't perceive Shera as a bad man.

"Why do you wound the jungle?" the holy man asked Shera, as if reciting a poem.

"What harm can come to a river if one takes a bowl of water from it? You're just disheartening yourself," Shera replied to the holy man. The holy man, too, fell silent, thinking, "How much jungle can they cut anyway?"

Days passed, and a path for trolleys was carved into the jungle. Where a path appears, everyone passes through. Half-paths destroy jungles. Wherever thick trees were felled, the jungle grew sparse. Wild boars, jackals, porcupines, wolves, and rabbits left the sparse jungle and moved towards the dense parts. Birds, too, abandoned their eggs in their nests and followed the jackals, seeking refuge in the denser jungle. It was as if guards had been stationed in the jungle. Owls also began to fly near the jungle; they had smelled the scent of death in the breaths of the fleeing animals.

Chaudhry's and Shera's pockets grew heavy with money. Shera's companions burped contentedly after good meals. At night, the thieves would leave the jungle and return at dawn, driving some animal before them. Chaudhry's cattle pen began to fill with buffaloes. When trackers approached the jungle, picking up trails, the owners of the stolen cattle wouldn't step inside the jungle. Shera's fear stood like a border at the jungle's edge for them, and they would turn back with the tracker. The holy man, sitting under the drumstick tree, sang:

"Some trees feel like sons to me,

Some trees feel like mothers.

Some trees are like daughters and daughters-in-law,

Some trees are like brothers.

Some trees are like my grandfather,

With few scattered leaves.

Some trees are like my grandmother,

Secretly feeding the crows.

Some trees feel like friends,

I kiss and embrace them.

One is like my beloved,

Sweet and sorrowful.

Some trees make my heart wish,

To carry them on my shoulder and play.

My heart also wishes,

To come in the form of a tree.

If you want to hear my song,

I will sing among the trees.

Trees are like my mother,

Life is in the shade of trees."

As the holy man sang, he would sometimes look at the drumstick tree's leaves and sometimes at Shera's companions. Hearing his voice, the jungle trees were convinced that the drumstick tree had done its job. The jungle happily sent a message to the birds to sing. That evening, throughout the jungle, the voices of cuckoos, peacocks, and quails mingled with the sounds of other birds. At night, jackals also howled, frightening the humans living around the jungle. When morning came, the jungle's illusion shattered. Chaudhry Karam Din, with his army of laborers, attacked the jungle. It seemed as if all the young saplings would be destroyed by evening. Tractors, like tanks, crushed the flowers growing under the trees. Trolleys laden with pruned trees made rounds all day. The discarded parts of the trees lay scattered in the jungle as the entrails of sacrificial animals are strewn throughout the city on Eid. The birds that had been singing just a day before were now wailing. Amidst these wails, the thieves made their plans for their last theft. The jungle's belly was now empty like a hungry beggar's. A person standing outside the jungle could now see inside it. The sparse, small trees were not enough to block the view. The jungle, too, had removed its veil and was revealing itself. The thieves also saw that some stallions and thoroughbred horses from the Mona Depot were tied east of the canal. Seeing them, the thieves' blood stirred, and they felt as if God was also with them. It was difficult to scale the Mona Depot wall, but here, there was no wall at all. The two thieves emerged from the jungle and went towards the canal like shadows in the night. They had brought all the experience of their forefathers with them. It was a matter of their ancestors' honor. Even the fallen leaves on the ground didn't realize that the thieves were passing over them. The night, which even hears a man's inner breath, had also joined these thieves in silence. The thieves had cast a spell on the night too. No one was seen near the canal. The thieves untied two horses, which followed them as if these thieves were their jockeys. Both horses were so tall that the thieves couldn't jump onto them. Finally, they led the horses to the dwelling deep inside the jungle. They were happy that they had accomplished something that no other thief in the area had ever done. Now they were worried about what their grandfather had told them:

"Stealing is nothing; the real task is to get away with the stolen goods."

Their grandfather had said this when he had untied the station house officer's buffalo. The thieves tied the huge horses under the dense trees in a cleared spot and then went to sleep. They woke up at noon and spent the rest of the day until evening receiving congratulations. That night, happiness reigned at the holy man's dwelling. Everyone there kept drinking raw liquor in joy.

On the other side of the jungle, animals and birds also gathered for their assembly. They were worried about saving the jungle. The trees were saddened that humans themselves watered and nurtured them into maturity, only to cut them down with saws and axes. A Kaho tree said with shame, "Why blame the woodcutter? The fault lies with our own handle in the axe." Trees with long lives had never seen such cruelty from any other species. The banyan said to the birds, "You might fly elsewhere, but our roots are deep in the earth. We have to pay the price of our love for the land in the form of death." The animals also couldn't understand this two-legged animal of their own kind. He commits cruelty, then feels pity out of remorse, and then suffers the pain of blaming himself. Nearby, a goat was tied to a tree. It also started bleating. Everyone's attention turned to it.

"They feed us, they shear our wool. They laugh and play with us. We also play, trusting their love. And they, laughing and playing, slit our throats," the goat shared its centuries-old, incomprehensible sorrow.

"How did these humans become so advanced, separated from us?" a dog asked, barking.

"He made letters, taught them to his offspring, and then coined words. He named himself, us, and other things. The one sitting with his head out of the shisham tree's hollow, they call him an owl," hearing the crow's reply, laughter erupted in the jungle.

"What's man's biggest game?" the owl asked the crow, full of humor.

"He rejoices in hunting. He creates things himself and then destroys them. This man believes that all animals and birds were created by God for him. Those he likes are 'halal' (permissible), and those he dislikes are 'haram' (forbidden). He consumes us as blessings. We, being 'haram,' are saved from the elders, but the young ones keep dragging us around tied with ropes," the crow informed the others, making their ears ache.

"They don't stop killing me even when they call me 'haram.' They say I smell. What fragrance does a goat have? They say eating pork gives vigor, but on the other hand, they cross mountains to find sexual medicine," the boar said, snorting. He held a deep grudge against humans. He had been burning in the fire of revenge for centuries.

"They eat me too, considering me 'warm.' It's as if their females are on fire," the quail also chirped, flapping its wings.

"At least you have a good time. They tie me up. They load all their burden on me and then slaughter and eat me with relish, even if they later curse the butcher. That's when I die completely, when they foolishly call a man a 'donkey' right in front of me," the donkey spoke with a sorrowful expression, then brayed. All the animals laughed, burying their faces in their legs, listening to him. Nearby were two old, dry trees. Their roots were intertwined. Both had withered and died together. Their friendship was famous in the jungle. On a thick branch of one tree were nests of bats and swallows, which a snake had now occupied. He also came out, hearing the conversations.

"I can't tell you what they call me," the snake said, coiling up in shame.

"What do they call you?" the crow asked mischievously.

"Don't befriend the sons of snakes,

Even if you offer them milk in handfuls."

Hearing this, all the animals and birds laughed once again.

A pair of pigeons also flew and landed there. They listened to everyone's conversations for a while. Then one pigeon began to coo. Everyone's attention turned to it. It began to tell everyone:

"Man invents stories of cruel and terrifying deeds. These stories are more frightening than reality. Their narratives don't let the desire for hunting be forgotten. To survive in the world, writers keep watering stories of bloodshed. Man nurtures fear. Because of this fear, he kills millions of animals in a single day. He has named the fear within him 'God.' This fear has now grown larger than our jungles. To escape this fear, he kills living beings and preserves stones. Man, who considers me a symbol of peace, awaits doomsday due to such strong belief in destruction. From this, it can be deduced that his fear knows no bounds."

Hearing this, a profound silence spread across the jungle. In this silence, no one saw the jungle surviving.

"You all tell me, what should we do now?" a parrot, whose age surpassed all other birds, spoke after a long silence.

"You are much wiser than us, think of a solution and tell us too," a dove sitting on a tree branch also spoke.

"We cannot fight him; he will make a mistake himself. Humans, driven by their greed, will fight among themselves and destroy each other. Just wait for that time," with the parrot's words, all the trees, animals, and birds fell silent. This was the decision of the entire jungle. God's Mare also affirmed by neighing in a long, drawn-out cry from the base of an unknown tree. The trees also praised the parrot's words by shaking their branches. A singing voice began to rise from the entire jungle:

"When I leave,

Only a part of me goes."

When morning dawned, there was an upheaval inside the Mona Depot. There was a frantic search for two horses. The station house officer also brought his jeep and parked it in front of the depot's main gate. Two sentries stood at the gate, holding their rifles. No one could enter without the Colonel Sahib's permission. Even though the work needed to be done quickly, the station house officer still had to wait fifteen minutes outside and fifteen minutes inside. The Colonel explained the theft to the station house officer as if he too had a hand in it. The station house officer had known about the theft even before coming here, and he had sent an ASI with two policemen to catch Kallu and Matli. Kallu and Matli were the only thieves who could do such a deed. Stealing army horses required courage as well as precision in the work. The skill of Kallu and Matli's hands was well-known throughout the Gondal bar. When the station house officer returned from the depot, the ASI also returned empty-handed. He learned from the village that both thieves had not returned to the village for a week. The station house officer foresaw his transfer with this new trouble, as finding these thieves was as difficult as catching a firefly at noon. The station house officer sent his informants everywhere. The trackers also followed the trail towards the jungle.

"Those two thieves have reached Shera, the outlaw, in the jungle," an informer whispered into the station house officer's ear. The station house officer, who until now had been thinking about his transfer, began to think about his promotion. The reward for catching a major outlaw was surely guaranteed for the station house officer. The police, who were afraid to enter the jungle, now had the support of the army. A major from the depot filled his vehicle with his soldiers and drove onto the road leading to the jungle, following the station house officer's vehicle. Their vehicles passed the jungle and drove ahead. The vehicles stopped directly in front of Chaudhry Karam Din's house. Whenever the police came to the village, they would sit at Karam Din's place. The arrival of these vehicles was nothing surprising for the villagers. When Chaudhry Karam Din saw the army vehicle with the police vehicle, he gasped. He knew that the matter was serious. A one-eyed person sees another one-eyed person. He suspected that those who demanded their share from the illegally cut jungle trees had arrived. When the station house officer and the major asked Chaudhry a question, the major got angry at Chaudhry's evasiveness. He was about to hit Chaudhry right there in his drawing-room, but the station house officer calmed him down. At the station house officer's insistence, Chaudhry Karam Din blurted out everything about Shera and his companions. Chaudhry had also earned money; he no longer cared about Shera's life or death. When the matter came down to his own skin, he couldn't even show regard for Shera. When he saw that the major was beginning to consider him one of his own, he began to speak against Shera.

"We are also very distressed. Since Shera and his men took refuge in the jungle, the entire village, out of fear of him, doesn't even turn their faces towards that side. Thefts and robberies have also increased. Whoever has taken the jungle contract, they only get out after paying protection money to Shera," Chaudhry Karam Din narrated his fabricated story to the major and the station house officer. When the vehicles left Chaudhry's village, within a short time, bells rang in Pindi and Lahore. The order for the operation had been given.

A pair of wild pigeons had informed the holy man about the new danger. At night, the holy man whispered this danger into Shera's ear.

"The jungle provides refuge to helpless and displaced people, but it is now close to being ruined itself. Now the jungle cannot save anyone," the holy man told Shera.

"We have given the jungle more power. No one can come this way," Shera retorted to the holy man.

"These jungles and thickets do not restrict anyone. Freedom is their principle. There is freedom to grow and live here. The jungle animals are frightened by seeing animals tied with ropes," the holy man revealed the jungle's secret to Shera.

"Then what does this jungle want?" Shera asked the holy man, smiling.

"This jungle demands its openness; the greed of the outside world has begun to consume its roots, and now it is no longer anyone's protector," the holy man told Shera, giving him a hint. Shera also understood that this jungle could no longer protect him; he would have to find another place. Shera began to think deeply.

"If even the jungle is no longer a protector, then the hiding place is not on the surface of the earth but inside it." Thinking this, Shera plunged into the darkness of deep sorrow. Despite knowing all this, Shera was in no hurry. He needed a few days to find a new direction. On the other hand, forces began to arrive in the jungle for the operation. Weapons and vehicles were gathered. Preparations for the operation were made overnight. Army and police officers also conducted training for the operation. In the morning, soldiers positioned themselves on all four sides of the jungle, pointing their rifles towards it. Army vehicles remained parked behind them. Tractor-trolleys emerged from Chaudhry Karam Din's village. There were more laborers in the trolleys than before. When the tractors passed by Shera's dwelling, some laborers lowered their heads. A group of laborers had gotten off earlier. When the tractors passed the dwelling by a furlong, the laborers jumped off the trolley and immediately lay flat on the ground. They had rifles in their hands. A unique silence reigned in the jungle. The entire jungle held its breath and listened intently. The birds had sensed the danger, so they too watched, hidden behind leaves. The way the laborers would get up and run, then lie down again, indicated that the soldiers had come for an operation. The stump of a large, felled Kikar tree yearned that if it were alive today, it would surely spread thorns before those who had come to turn the thieves into peacocks. The soldiers, walking like cheetahs, reached the dwelling. Those who considered the jungle their own were carelessly engaged in cooking and eating. Three or four soldiers climbed onto the dwelling, and five or six hid around the door. Shera's outlaw companions had already been apprehended by the police. Their straw huts collapsed in a flash. The straw flew in the air. Dinno, the barber, had seen the armed men approaching, but fear had rendered him speechless. Only his bandolier had slipped from his shoulder and fallen to the ground. Fear makes a trembling man stumble. A soldier standing on the roof fired a shot, and the soldiers surrounding the jungle also rushed inside. Shera grabbed his Kalashnikov and ran outside, but the time for escape had passed. The soldiers standing near the door bound his wrists. Both thieves were also there. For the first time, taking refuge with outlaws seemed like a mistake to them. The horses were tied under the drumstick tree, but both horses were not there. Everyone had been caught, but only Jaani was missing. When the station house officer and the major arrived at the dwelling with their respective soldiers, Jaani was also with them. The station house officer recognized Kallu and Matli. When they were hit twice, they pointed towards the direction where the horses stolen from the depot were hidden. The soldiers seized everything from there. The station house officer didn't forget to hide the bottle of "war honey" in his trouser pocket, unnoticed by everyone. The jungle guards and the block officer also came running. They feared they might be blamed for harboring outlaws and thieves. Seeing so many weapons, fear itself emerges. The holy man sitting under the drumstick tree was also watching everything. The station house officer also called him.

"What are you doing here?" the station house officer questioned the holy man aggressively.

"This jungle is my home; I keep telling people that the jungle is their protector," the holy man replied to the station house officer.

"What's your connection with these outlaws?" the station house officer interrogated the holy man.

"I used to live here, hiding my head in this dwelling; it has been occupied. My home is this jungle, how could I run away?" the holy man replied again. The station house officer asked the block officer about the holy man, and he also confirmed the holy man's statement. The major also feared the curse of such a holy man. Leaving the holy man there, everyone walked out of the jungle. When the operation team came out of the jungle, two thieves, Jaani, and Dinno the barber were with them. The lifeless bodies of Shera and his other companions were piled in the trolley. All their frantic running and hiding had ended.

A silence, accompanied by peace, settled in the jungle. All the birds, frightened, went and sat in their nests. But the crows fulfilled their right as eternal witnesses to human murder. A flock of them circled continuously above the holy man's dwelling, cawing loudly for a long time.

The jungle started its slow, deliberate healing. In a matter of months, it swallowed the makeshift trails, drawing them back beneath a thorny shroud. And every six moons, after the smoke of harmal had drifted, the holy man performed his quiet ritual: a pot of raw buttermilk poured into the banyan tree's ancient roots, a silent plea to the forest deity.

Now, under the drumstick tree, the holy man sits cross-legged, his matted hair a living testament to time, finally brushing the earth. His deep, resonant "hoo hoo" still intertwines with the cuckoo's clear "koo koo," a timeless duet echoing through the green. He sings his folk songs there, and the drumstick tree, ever giving, rains down its blossoms upon him, even when the season says they shouldn't fall.