Take any epic: purana, a selection from the Bible. Take any story you like and you will see that the depth comes only when the storyteller enters the source of his tradition and involves himself entirely, surrenders himself completely.”

For nearly thirty years, Detha has dedicated himself to working in his tradition. People praise his style, his sense of imagery. His stories do have that depth, the richness of history. Most important, the stories he writes are retold. Detha explains “The modern short story can be enjoyed only by being read. But the seed of a folktale has such   strength, a hundred men can tell the story in their own way—some presenting it beautifully and some haphazardly—and the story will be so strong that the message is still conveyed. But a story by Chekhov is not like this. It does not lend itself to retelling.”

The difference is not strictly of written and oral; it becomes a question of intention as well as artistry. A storyteller writes so that the story will be retold. His loyalty remains with the regenerative process of a tale. “This is an oral tradition,” Detha explains. “If a person comes along, takes an interest in it, and writes down the stories, then that simply means the stories will be made available to many people who may not have otherwise had the opportunity to hear them. The Grimm Brothers have done this. Hans Christian Andersen has done this. Now these stories are known far and wide. But the root is the oral tradition.”

And by remaining loyal to this root, Detha has strengthened the tree. “This tradition is so strong,” he confirms, “it will never die out.” It will never die out when people like Detha adapt their storytelling gifts to the channels of modern communication. It will never die out when children like the Digantar students read stories in books and retell them. I first heard a story called “The Peacock’s Justice” from these students and later found it in Detha’s book, A Singular Tree. When I prepared the following translation of this story, I worked with Detha to preserve the intentions of a storyteller.

The Peacock’s Justice

Once there were two friends: One was a crow and one was a peacock. They used to go to the edge of town to gather wood where cactus and sagebrush grew wild as jungle. Picking twigs off the hot sand and bending branches, they made their loads heavier and heavier until they had gathered all the wood they could carry home. The peacock’s load was always very big and the crow’s load very small.