The Owlet Who Craved the Sun

The owlet slowly opened his eyes. For the first time. Inside the tree-hollow, everything was pitch dark. The little fellow was sheltered by the warm protective wings of his mother. A sudden storm of cawing from the upper branches of the tree startled his mother. Her wings trembled with fear for a moment; then she shook her feathers, and rearranged them protectively around the owlet. He relaxed in the warmth of her embrace. She gently rubbed her beak on his, and asked him to stay quiet. Mother’s behaviour intrigued him. Nevertheless, he obeyed. After a while, he grew restless. His body felt so light that he thought he could stand upright. He tried stretching his legs. His mother gave him room. She nudged his feet apart with her beak, trying to help him straighten his tiny limbs. He looked outside. It seemed less dark now. He immediately squeezed his eyes shut. He opened them again, glanced briefly at his mother, and looked up at the sky. It was clear that he was restless.

His mother’s intuition kicked in. She drew him close. She touched his tiny beak with her own and said, ‘My love, how smart have you become! But be a little more patient. Let your wings grow feathers and I myself will teach you how to fly. I will show you how to flap your wings. You will then be able to discover the world for yourself. You might be surrounded by darkness here, but the world outside, when you explore it, will not appear so dark. You will see the bright moonlight streaming down from the sky. Tiny stars will kiss you with their twinkling eyes. I will show you all the beautiful things that are there to see. Just wait till you grow up and you become strong enough, my son.’ Saying so, she fetched a tiny slice of guava and stuffed it into his beak. As he swallowed it, he exclaimed, ‘Ah! It’s so sweet.’ He assumed the world must be sweet, too, and he couldn’t wait to explore it.

Some creature howled beneath the tree. Tucked comfortably under his mother’s belly, the little owlet began to drowse, dreaming of the world outside. It seemed as though there were tiny pieces of ripe and delicious guava scattered everywhere. The moon was slowly descending from the heavens. The darkness had disappeared completely. As he dreamt, a smile forced its way through his beak. Abruptly, a piercing noise roused him from his dreams. It was very dark outside; his mood soured. His mother was sitting outside the hole, stretching her wings. The owlet cried out: ‘Ma, I want to see the world, right now. I shall go and play with the moon.’ No sooner had he spoken than his mother came back into their roost and enveloped him in the warmth of her embrace. He slid out of her grasp. He hated the darkness and wanted to get out. His mother said: ‘You have been brought into this world, why would anyone stop you from seeing it! But if you venture out before you have grown up and become strong, you will get easily fooled and harmed. Just be patient, son! It’s just a matter of time before I myself show you around. Lie down now, I’m going to get you something to eat. You must be very quiet when I’m gone, not the slightest sound from you.’ She gave him an affectionate peck and made her way out of the hollow. Just before she flew off, she turned and gave him a long, long look. The owlet closed his eyes and his mother left. He was soon back in the world of dreams. The whole world looked bright and cheerful. It was inviting, tempting him with delicious guavas. He had grown more feathers on his wings than even his mother had on her own. He was flying high, brushing his feathers against the moon, and laughing.

Time passed. The owlet’s legs grew strong and he could stand up. More feathers had started appearing on his wings. He had been getting more and more restless to explore the world outside. The world in his dreams was lit up by moonlight and there were ripe guavas everywhere. He kept badgering his mother to let him fly. Unable to curb his impatience, the mother owl brought him to the opening of the roost for the first time. She pointed her beak in the direction of the moon and showed it to him. His eyes shone with joy as he looked at it. How beautiful it was! Quite unlike the dark hole he had been rotting in for so long.

He clung to his mother’s wings as he made his first attempts to fly, hopping from one branch to another. His wings started to ache. Gathering all his strength, he soared to the topmost branch of the tree. He sat there with his gaze fixed on the moon. The ache in his wings slowly ebbed away. The sky was lit with a soft and gentle light. He had the urge to open his beak and gulp down that stream of moonlight. Just as his fantasies were scaling new heights, his mother flew up and nudged him to go back to their roost in the dark hole of the tree.

One day, the mother owl had dozed off. The owlet gingerly moved out of the roost. ‘It is so bright outside; there is so much light. The moon looks much bigger and brighter than the other day,’ he said to himself. The radiance of this moon made his eyes burn. Two young mynahs on the branch above his head sang along in tune with their mother as they went hopping from one branch to another. He felt let down by his mother. Why didn’t she teach him to sing under the big moon, just as the mynah did for her chicks! He approached the two birds and began to hoot a song. The mynah chicks began screaming in fear and their mother immediately flew at him and tried to peck him. Attracted by the noise, a crow flew overhead, cawing loudly. The caw of the crow disturbed his mother’s sleep. She quickly flew out and pulled him back into the cavity of the tree. Infuriated by the way in which his mother was spoiling his fun, the owlet began pecking and clawing at her. Once again, he tried to fly out. His distraught mother tried to put some sense into him. ‘Calm down, son! Shut your mouth! That big moon that you are looking at is the sun. The sun is not meant for us. We are creatures of the dark. We do not even get to see the moon every day. We are destined for darkness. We can either choose darkness or death.’

His mother’s words angered the owlet. Why should he not go into the world of the sun? Why should he not wander freely in daylight? Who had made such laws? Laws that seemed designed to destroy his dreams? Angrily, he tried to flounce out again. His mother pulled him back. In his rage at being thwarted, he pulled a few feathers from his mother’s body with his beak. In frustration and pain, she cried out. Suddenly remorseful, he calmed down and came back to her. He couldn’t bear to see his mother crying. Outside, the crows continued to caw. She felt annoyed with herself for mentioning that cursed sun to her son. ‘We are denizens of darkness. We are an inauspicious species. We are a cursed lot, son. The sons of light are waiting to hunt us down.’ Her grief refused to subside. Trying to console her, the owlet said, ‘Calm down Ma, just wait and watch. Let me grow up. I will take you to the world of light…it’s a promise. I will destroy all our enemies.’

It was the night of the new moon. The owlet and his mother were sitting on the branch of a mango tree. The little one seemed rather grumpy. Suddenly, a piercing ray of light from the house next door filled his sight. This made him very happy and he started tooting. A voice from the house began to yell at him, ‘Wretched bird, get the hell out of here or else I will brand you with a hot spatula. May you die of cholera!’ Mother clamped his mouth shut with her beak. The owlet was furious. ‘They are acting as if light is their property, and they can’t stand the little joy I get from it,’ he muttered angrily. He decided that he was not going to let his desire be thwarted. He would sneak into the house through a window and grab some light. However, his mother’s frantic pleas prevailed and he was dissuaded from that impetuous course of action.

He carefully examined his wings before shuffling out of the roost that evening. All his feathers were fully grown. He started moving his feet as if he were dancing to some tune. The legs were strong. He pecked at the bark of the tree; his beak had gained considerable strength. And now here he was, flying. He spent the night inside the hollow of another tree. For him, there was no going back home that night. He had made up his mind to wander in the world of the sun. He would conquer light, he had resolved. He was ready to face his enemies.

With the coming of the dawn, red streaks of light spread across the horizon. He had never before seen the glorious spectacle of light entering and illuminating every corner of the kingdom of the sun. He watched this ceremony of light unblinkingly, as if he were in a trance. Flocks of birds tapped their wings to the beat of their song and began to soar into the sky. He thought it ridiculous that hundreds of other birds could traverse the kingdom of light and savour the taste of life whereas he was expected to fearfully rot in the darkness. As he thought about this, his spirits began to rise. As the sun rose its glow grew brighter. Would it really be impossible for him to find a place in the beautiful world of light? He refused to give in to that thought. He was determined to have his share of fun, stake his claim to the kingdom of light.

He took wing, and began to fly aimlessly through the sky, looking at everything that came into view. Suddenly something ambushed him from behind. He turned around and saw that the bird which had attacked him looked like the ones his mother had warned him about when he was little. Enraged, he turned on the crow. The crow cried out for help. Soon, a mighty swarm of his brethren rushed to the crow’s rescue. The owlet realized it would be impossible to fight so many of them. He fled to the nearest house he could see, beating his wings strongly in the air. He managed to sneak in through the skylight on top of the wall. Once inside, he made his way deeper into the house. Perched on a rafter he tried to regain his breath. Meanwhile, the crows circled in the sky, cawing. He was waiting for the large group to disperse, so that he could single out his target and avenge himself. He was determined to claim his due from the world. He wouldn’t be consigned to the darkness; he was a child of the light, his heart told him. He would enjoy light to the fullest, he thought.

Dhanbir and Dhirmallu were lying ill in bed in the room that the owlet had crept into. They shivered from the fever that made their temperatures soar. Dhirmallu tossed and turned in bed, and occasionally, he would shout in his delirium. ‘Ensure that agacha is mixed well in mustard oil in the proportion of eighty to one. Make sure you file a case against Madana Barik. Bloody scoundrel! His sister Chandrama is acting like some sati-savitri. Just because I put my hand on her shoulder affectionately, she tried to hit me!’ He called out to his wife, ‘That Priya Mishra has no intention of paying back the debt, it seems. Ask our men to go and collect paddy from his field. Bloody rascal, just because he has learnt a few letters of the alphabet, he wouldn’t wish me! That Bengali fellow has promised to deliver one quintal of smuggled opium. Keep an eye on him,’ he instructed her.

These are the mighty lords of the world of light. The sun illuminates their land every day, the owlet thought. He kept staring at them with his eyes wide open.
Suddenly, one of Dhirmallu’s devoted men saw the bird. ‘This is an ominous, inauspicious sign! Great danger will befall this house. There is an owl here when the lord of this house is ill!’ he shouted. The owlet was shooed away with a long bamboo stick. Both his wings were injured in the attack; he barely managed to crawl on to the roof. Crows flew from the trees to attack him. A servant managed to hit him with a stick. He fell from the roof. Turmeric water was sprinkled all over and around the house and a pile of hay was burnt to purify the place. Everybody became calmer, now that the evil had been mitigated.

But the owlet’s troubles were far from over. The crows continued their onslaught. Blood began oozing from his body. He looked up; the sun was shining brightly. With great difficulty he flapped away in the direction of his roost but his strength gave out before he could reach the cavity where he and his mother nested. He crashed to the ground at the bottom of the tree. His anxious mother had been waiting helplessly for him. Hearing her son’s desperate cries she flew down to him. She was speechless when she saw her son lying in a pool of blood. He looked up. The young mynahs were hopping and singing on the branches of the tree. The sun continued to shower its radiance on the scene.

He called out to his mother. As she sat disconsolately beside him, he pressed his weakening body against her warmth and said softly; ‘Ma, do not cry. If you give birth to my brothers, tell them that their elder brother became a martyr, trying to conquer the world of light.’

And then the little owlet who craved the sun died. Above him, the object of his desire continued to shine — even more brightly than before.

The story was translated from Odia by Shaswat Panda. Excerpted with permission from Animalia Indica: The Finest Animal Stories in Indian Literature, edited by Sumana Roy, published by Aleph Book Company. Pages: 304 Price: Rs 699