"Ever since the dawn of man, India has gained countless of legendary tales. Tales that we are to be a part of. Especially you, Mowgli, my boy. Especially you. You know where you belong. But, don't know where you came from. I don't know for sure of your origins, myself. However, I have a story of my own. One that I cannot help but make a connection. I should have told you this when you first came to our lives two years ago. Yet, that would have been too much to take in with so little time.
Eleven years ago, our people would often go into the jungle for strong wood, savory meat and sweet fruits. I was in charge of the cutters as my brother, Buldeo, lead the hunters. Messua would often have the women of the village pick the mangos and berries. However, she would leave that to another maiden for the time. For she was more focused on our only child at the time. A son whom we had named 'Nathoo'. Messua and I were fortunate to have him. A lively little rascal, he was. Hardly ever crying. Always giggling. With him, our lives were complete. Sadly, fate has a cruel way of changing things.
Nathoo was only three months old at the time. Our little family were asleep in our cozy home as as everyone else that night. Deep in slumber we were when Messua and I had awoke to a noise. The door squealed as it closed. Pots had broken. And a harsh hush was hissed. Messua was in bed with Nathoo as I went out of the room to investigate. It wasn't long until I had seen three shadowy figures lurking around my house.
'Who are you?', I asked, 'What are you doing in my-'
Two of the figures, big ones, had jumped me right to the ground. I tried to fight back, but it was no use. I was overpowered by their punches as the missing third being went to our bedroom. All I could hear was Messua screaming and Nathoo crying. Moments later, the monster was holding a small bundle in a basket. Once he went out of the house, the pair had stopped beating me and followed him. They were not worried about me following them for I was on the verge of unconsciousness. The room was spinning as I struggled to process what had happened. Within moments, everything went black.
'Durai! Durai!', my wife's voice broke the spell, 'Durai! Please wake up!'
I opened my eyes to find that it was still nighttime. I was still on the ground as Messua was kneeling to me. Dabbing my facial wounds with a wet rag. Tears were filling her eyes. Yet, she was not alone. Some of the concerned villagers heard the ruckus. Including Abdul Gafur and his pregnant wife, Parveen.
Once I had came to, Messua then told me that the man she fought had thrown her to the hard ground. Quickly putting her baby in the basket and running off afterwards. She tried to follow the three men but they had ran so fast, she could not keep up. All she could have done was scream in horror. Even as the villagers came to see what was the matter. Some of the men looked all around the village. Thinking it was one of our own who had done this. As for the rest of the crowd, Messua took them back to the house once remember that I was there.
The searchers came to us. Saying that they couldn't find them. Their only theory that they had gone into the jungle. The sun did not even rise when I had round up the men to venture the woodlands. It was then I had noticed something; Buldeo was nowhere to be found. Could he have had something to do with it? No. No, he couldn't...could he?
I had no time to think. My son's been kidnapped and taken to the jungle for reasons I am unaware of. I got to look for him. I got to.
We were in the jungle for two weeks yet we were still restless. One morning, Abdul decided to gather up some fruits for us to eat when suddenly-
*BAM!*
The silence of the jungle was broken by a sound familiar to us. A roar had proceeded naturally. Curious, Garfur took his own gun and decided to look into the noise. When there's shots fired, there's a gun. And whenever there's a gun, there's a human not far by. However, what he came across was something else.
'Hello.', he called out. Leaves rustling was only heard. 'Hello!', he called louder, 'Is anyone there?'
Passing against leaves, he had seen what he should have not. A wound tiger furiously looking for his attacker. Yet, when he saw the gun in the innocent hunter's hand, the beast had made his assumption. Abdul was the one who had shot him. A fact that was certainly untrue. Nonetheless, the tiger charged at him. Garfur tried to shoot him but there were no bullets. As a result, my poor friend was at the mercy of the striped feline.
The men and I had ran to the scene and tried to fight the tiger but it was no use. When other guns were fired, they would either missed or make the animal more angry. Striking anyone around him. Including me right on my arm. It seemed like hours until we had finally got the vicious feline to escape. Unfortunately, it was too late. Abdul was gone. We had no choice but to leave the search and take him back to to the village.
It was a hard thing to do. I had to tell Messua that we couldn't put anymore lives at risk. That the chances of finding our son was no more. Not only that, we had to tell Abdul's wife that her child would never know its father. I don't know how, but I was able to tell them. Oh, how they wept. How we all had wept.
'From this day forth,', I proclaimed in anguished, 'no one will ever cross the river again! Not ever! If we need wood and fruit, we must grow more trees around the village. If we want more meat, our farms shall provide that for us with their livestock. We must do what we can to keep our children away from the dangers of nature.'
Everyone agreed with the sentiment. There can never be another loss like this again.
We had never seen Buldeo again, either. Though, he did write to us about how he was leaving Madhya Pradesh for the cities. Anyway, a month later, Parveen had given birth to a healthy daughter. 'Shanti.', she called her, 'Abdul and I had chosen that name. Had she been a boy, we had planned on 'Ranjan'.'
That idea would come to fruition five years later when Messua and I had another son. A little fellow who was just as lively as his brother. A brother we had never given up on seeing again. When Shanti had turned 10, it seemed that our prayers were answered.
In the morning, Shanti had returned with, not just the water, but with a boy around her age. We were surprised by how well you, Mowgli, was with our language. He was even able to walk on two legs, even though he was said to have been raised by wolves. 'Bagheera taught me.', you had innocently explained, 'I don't know how he knew. I had never bothered asking him.'
Nonetheless, Messua and I had taken you into our home where you had made a promising son. And a good older brother for our Ranjan. Yet, her and I had a feeling that this you were also our Nathoo. The timing was right as you two are the same age. Then there his looks and mannerisms. They reminded me of how me and Buldeo were at that age. I should have told you this sooner. But, now, I must say that you, Mowgli, truly are our Nathoo. I could not doubt it no longer."