Bonfire Tales: Adivasi stories

The man who could turn into a Lion

There once lived a man in a village predominantly occupied by Adivasi communities in India. He was among the rare Adivasis who knew how to turn into a Lion, temporarily. However, there was a major flaw in this transformation. Once he transformed into a lion, he would lose all human consciousness. He would destroy everything in his way, often posing a danger to others. It was said that he had also injured others after transforming. One fine day, when he transformed, something happened that he couldn’t forgive himself for. Without any memory or consciousness, his family met an end by his own hands (claws). That was when he abandoned transforming into a lion forever. He was strong and superhuman but had lost his family. He thought to himself, “What good is a supernatural ability if I cannot protect my own?”

Calling spirits

Occasionally, when their wives were away – sitting together, chatting, and smoking a local-made hookah, the elder men of the village would gather in a circle and decide on calling spirits and talking to them. Calling spirits was not an easy task. What made it more difficult was that sometimes the spirits were unfriendly. There was also a chance of being possessed. So before calling the spirit, the elders would have a bit of alcohol so that they become impure. Spirits do not enter impure bodies, they say. Then they would light a fire and do the necessary rituals to call a spirit. They would talk to the spirit that they called and once the spirit left, the fire would go out. These events were not free from risks and mishaps and eventually people considered that it is a better to stop it altogether.

The great betrayal

Once there lived a pious and kind priest. He had a shikha (knot hair) and wore a sacred thread. It was afternoon and a few guests came over. They were priests too. They had a shikha as well, but no thread. Also, they were fairer in complexion compared to the host, although both were from the same land. Both the host and the guests sat down to eat. The host’s wife served them the best rice, lentils, vegetables, and fruits. She also offered them curd with some jaggery. After everyone had eaten to their full, the host’s wife collected the plates for cleaning. The host priest and the guests proceeded to wash their hands by the pond. Before washing his hands, the host said a prayer and removed his sacred thread. After they had all washed hands, the guests took the host’s thread. Before the host could do anything, they fled.

What really formed those rocks?

Mystical secrets lay hidden
Deep beneath unknown pathways;
Those that were buried aeons ago
Without any hint or a trace.

People today are bewildered
By tales of the same dust
That gathered after the storm
Or the ships that lay coated in rust.

One never abstains from praise
Of the lofty mountains and lions, brave.
Ever thrilling are the stories
Of the austere monk in a cave.

Cyphers with no clues,
Keys with no locks
Keep us wondering for years,
“What really formed those rocks?”

Spells of tongues lost in time,
Alive in a faint dream
Of elders, of yours and mine
May not be mythical as it may seem.

Although if we wish
to travel back in time
Just for a peek at a riddle
written in catchy rhyme,
The journey is not a mere walk
But the laugh of a clever fox
‘Cause it kept us wondering for years,
“What really formed those rocks?”

The Purple Mist

Underneath the shade of the dark clouds
I stand appalled at the sight of a purple mist
Wondering the source, I walk forward to see
Glowing in the dark was a mysterious pine tree.
I was afraid, my instincts said.
But instead of taking a foot back,
I walked on.

There was a lady with white hair
Under a black, hooded cloak.
Standing under the tree
She spotted me.
I was afraid, my instincts said.
But instead of taking a foot back,
I walked on.

She lifted her hood and to my surprise,
She wasn’t an old lady but a young girl.
She smiled at me and I was dazed
Something was wrong with me,
I wasn’t ever so amazed.
I was afraid, my instincts said.
But instead of taking a foot back,
I walked on.

She asked me, “Do you come in search of something?”
I replied, “The purple mist.”
I didn’t know what was happening,
Not even aware of what I was blabbering.
I was afraid, my instincts said.
But instead of taking a foot back,
I walked on.

“Come with me,” she said
And led me to a house behind.
“You must be cold,” she said,
“It’s just the lavender amidst the fog.”
We sat outside on a log
And talked endlessly.
I was afraid, my instincts said.
But who cares,
I liked where I was
And where the clouds had led.