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Finally, someone offered weakly, “How about ‘The Monkey
and the Crocodile’?” The children snapped to attention as
they privately imagined fruit more delicious than they had
ever tasted, water colder, fresher, more plentiful. One
boy laughed out loud at the thought of the monkey jumping
about in his tree. Still, no one was ready to tell the story.
Then Sunita and Meena, each of them thirteen years
old and best friends, agreed to tell it if they could do
so together. So I turned on my tape recorder and set it
on the floor next to their crossed legs. They told the story
in Hindi, aware of speaking clearly into the microphone.
They left out many things that they imagine are part of
the story, and it was this imaginary world that I was most
interested to discover. So as I listened to the tape again
and translated their words into English, I also went back
to the children again and again to ask how it was.
The
Monkey and the Crocodile
Once upon a time there were two friends who lived near
the same old mango tree. The monkey lived in the leafy branches,
while the crocodile lived in the river running beside it.
And even though they were a monkey and a crocodile, they
spent all their time together in the shade of the tree enjoying
clever jokes and fine conversation, especially in the summers.
Summers were the season for mangos. When the monsoon air was
thickest and hottest, the fruit’s syrup would swell up inside.
All the animals in the jungle were roused from their lazy
stupor by the scent.
The monkey used to pick the ripest and most fragrant
mangos from his tree to throw down to his friend. The crocodile
stretched his jaws wide open, and—splat—the mangos
landed inside. Then they laughed juicy laughs together,
happy that the mangos tasted so delicious and that their
days were so good.
One day the crocodile brought a mango home to his wife.
“This is the sweetest mango I have ever tasted!” she exclaimed.
“Where did you find it?”
“In the mango tree,” the crocodile answered simply.
“Surely such a mango would not have been left in the
tree to drop off and rot on the ground,” his wife insisted.
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