The Cuckoo’s Mournful Call
In the previous part:
The peace of the garden was brought to life by Suvarna’s sweet singing. Those moments spent with her companions brought serenity to the Princess’s mind, but then, the sudden mournful cry of a Cuckoo dissolved a sense of melancholy into the air.
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The Princess raised her head and began to listen to the Cuckoo’s voice with great intent. Everyone’s gaze fixed upon the bird. At that sorrowful call, Kusuma spoke softly, "It seems the Princess’s sweet melody has reminded this unfortunate bird of its old grief."
Kusuma replied, "Oh, it is nothing, friend. Just an old folk tale I heard from my mother in my childhood came to mind."
Bhama chirped in, "Oh wow! A story... Kusuma, tell us that story too. It has been so long; lost in the joy of the Princess’s sweet songs, we had almost forgotten stories. At most, we’ve read a book or two, but a story told by mouth has its own delight. Isn’t it so, friend?" Bhama affectionately touched the Princess’s hand.
The Princess said, "You are right, Bhama! It has been a long time since we discussed a story. Now, I too have a strong desire to hear it. Won't you tell us, Kusuma?"
Kusuma said with a slight hesitation, "Oh, why not? I will certainly tell it! You have made such a request for the first time, but I do not know if you all will like this folk tale or not. But let me say this beforehand—if you don't like the story, no one shall punish me! Agreed?" Saying this, Kusuma displayed a playful charm.
Chanda said with a laugh, "Now, no matter what, we shall not let you go without hearing the story. On behalf of the Princess, I grant you 'amnesty'—whatever the story may be, we shall not penalize you!" Everyone burst into laughter and said in one voice, "Yes, we all give you our word."
Kusuma smiled and said, "Alright, alright... have patience... I'm telling it."
"My mother used to tell me this story in my childhood...
Princess, this is an ancient folk tale. In a village lived a very innocent and beautiful maiden named 'Papiha.' Her parents had raised her with great love, and she was entirely unaware of the world's deceptions.
A young man from the same village loved her in his heart and dreamed of marrying her. But Papiha, oblivious to his cunning motives, called him 'Kaka' (Uncle) and trusted him implicitly, just like the other elders of the village.
When Papiha reached marriageable age, her father wedded her to a very simple and gentlemanly youth from another village.
Papiha’s in-laws were very kind-hearted, and she was extremely happy in her domestic life. One day, that same old lover—whom Papiha regarded as 'Kaka'—arrived at her marital home.
Papiha welcomed him with intimacy and heartfelt hospitality. Her husband and other relatives also gave him full respect, considering him a kinsman from Papiha’s paternal home.
But that 'Kaka's' heart was filled with venom. He still desired to have Papiha. He thought that if Papiha’s husband were removed from the way, he would be able to win her. To fulfill this heinous thought, he feigned a deep friendship with Papiha’s husband and invited him to a nearby fair. The guileless husband went along with him. But that treacherous man had sin in his heart; finding a deserted spot on the path, the assassin murdered Papiha’s husband and hid the body in the bushes.
When the criminal returned alone, Papiha’s intuition was gripped by the fear of some calamity. She asked anxiously, 'Kaka! Where is my lord? He went with you; then why have you come back alone?' Just then, her eyes fell on the bloodstains on the man's clothes. Papiha’s heart began to sink. Her suspicion had now turned into dire terror.
Becoming almost frantic, she clutched the killer’s garment and began to wail, repeating just one cry— 'Kaka ho, Pee-kahan? Kaka ho, Pee-kahan?' (Uncle, where is my beloved?)
That delicate young woman could not bear the shock of her husband's loss and such a grave betrayal. Crying 'Pee-kahan... Pee-kahan,' she breathed her last right there.
They say that at that very moment, her soul took the form of a bird. That same bird still wanders from forest to forest in search of its beloved, letting out that same old cry of separation— 'Kaka ho, Pee-kahan... Kaka ho, Pee-kahan!'"
Saying this, Kusuma fell silent. The same mournful sound of the Cuckoo was echoing in the garden… 'Kaka ho, Pee-kahan? Kaka ho, Pee-kahan?' Everyone, including the Princess, was stunned, listening to that lament, as if they were becoming one with the pain of that grieving Papiha.
Breaking that silence, Kusuma said softly, "Princess! In this world, separation from loved ones and betrayal are the greatest of sorrows."
Chanda took a long breath and said, "You speak the truth, sister Kusuma! This sorrowful tale of yours has transported us to a different world altogether. You told a very touching story."
Then, turning toward the Princess, she said, "Friend! We should now depart for the palace. Evening is fading; your sweet singing and Kusuma's moving folk tale have made today's evening truly unforgettable."
Madhavi also spoke, "Truly, sister Kusuma told such a touching story that the echo of the Papiha will resonate in the mind for a long time, right Bhama?"
Bhama, the Princess, and all the companions agreed and, realizing it was getting late, began to walk from the garden toward the palace.
'To be Continued...'
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In the next part:
The story told by Kusuma has left several unresolved questions in the Princess’s mind. Was this story merely a folktale, or did Kusuma want to make the princess feel something through it?
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[Next Suggestion: Read my poem 🍂सूखे नीम के पत्ते और नीली स्याही/Dried Neem Leaves and Blue Ink🍂 here. The poem is available in two languages, Hindi/English.]
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✍️ From the pen of ‘Nishabd’
🖌️ Images created with the assistance of Gemini, ChatGPT, & Copilot
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