Excerpt: ‘FERAL DREAMS: Mowgli & His Mothers’ by Stephen Alter
Image courtesy: Stephen Alter
In his novel Feral Dreams: Mowgli & His Mothers (2020), award-winning author Stephen Alter revisits Rudyard Kipling’s The Jungle Book, taking forward Mowgli’s story, transposing the classic jungle tale into unexplored terrain. Here is an excerpt from the first chapter of the book.
Chapter One
The boy climbed down out of the banyan tree and lowered himself to the ground by one of the aerial roots. It was late in the day and there was no breeze in the forest. Even the noisiest birds were silent and the only sound nearby was the humming of insects. Amidst still, green shadows, a few beams of sunlight pierced the forest canopy, casting dappled patterns on the ground. Listening, with his head cocked to one side, the boy could just make out the whisper of the river below, hidden beyond ragged thickets of bamboo. Drawing in a deep breath through his nostrils, he smelled the mouldering leaves and a sour-earthy odour that he recognized as the passing scent of a sloth bear that had wandered by a short while ago. He was also aware of a lingering feline stench, where a tiger had marked his domain this morning, though it was so faint that the boy knew there was no longer any danger.
Peering up into the tree, he could see his companions, a troop of langur monkeys, sitting amidst the leaves with their long tails hanging down like furry vines. Fringed with silver-grey whiskers, their black faces were alert and wary. The monkeys would warn him if there was any reason to be alarmed, though every nerve in the boy’s body was attuned to signals in the air around him.
In addition to his five senses, the boy had a sixth sense too, an uneasy feeling at the back of his neck that warned him sometimes, as it did right now, like an ant crawling under his skin, a restless, prickling sensation that travelled from between his shoulder blades up to the base of his skull.
Raising one hand he touched a spider’s web and saw the tiny eight-legged hunter turn to face him, as his finger traced the delicate weave of filaments. One of the monkeys dropped a fig from above. Hitting the ground, it bounced near his foot. The boy picked up the green fruit and sniffed it, then took a bite. It had a bland flavour, still raw but eatable. In addition to his five senses, the boy had a sixth sense too, an uneasy feeling at the back of his neck that warned him sometimes, as it did right now, like an ant crawling under his skin, a restless, prickling sensation that travelled from between his shoulder blades up to the base of his skull.
For a moment, the boy thought of retreating back into the safety of the tree, but his curiosity had been aroused by a strange object on the ground. It lay in the dead leaves, two or three strides away, a brightly coloured morsel unlike any fruit or flower he’d ever seen before.
The monkeys were watching him anxiously from above, waiting to find out what it was that had caught his eye. Edging forward, the boy reached down and touched the unfamiliar object with his fingers. It was no bigger than a pigeon’s egg and rustled like a brittle cocoon as he picked it up. There was something hard inside and the boy sniffed it suspiciously. He could not recognize the smell, though it wasn’t unpleasant. When he shook the object it made no sound. With both fingers, he began to remove the papery skin. The fragrance was stronger now but there was no fruit inside, only a hard, red seed the size of a pebble. Raising it to his mouth he licked it cautiously and was surprised by a sugary tartness on his tongue. After tasting it again and feeling a stickiness on his fingertips, he put the sweet in his mouth and sucked on it greedily.
Turning back towards the banyan tree, he felt a prickle again along his spine but the sour-sweet flavour in his mouth made him ignore the warning. Stepping around a fallen branch he flexed his arms, preparing to pull himself back up into the tree. But at that moment, he heard a hissing sound and saw a movement in the dust around his feet. Instinctively, the boy thought it was a snake and cried out. But before he could leap aside, a noose tightened around his ankle, yanking him into the air, so that he was hanging upside down. The sweet in his mouth popped out as he yelled and waved both arms, trying frantically to touch the ground with his outstretched fingers though the dry leaves and dusty earth were just out of reach.
The snare cut into his ankle painfully as the boy swung back and forth, desperately trying to break free. By now the langurs overhead had panicked and were all crying out in alarm. From their perch in the tree, they could see that the boy was suspended from a long rope, coiled around a supple branch. He shouted for help but only one of the langurs was brave enough to come to his rescue. Though he was the littlest of all, the young monkey swung down until he was level with the boy’s face. Twisting his head around, the langur looked his friend in the eyes. The boy struggled to reach the tight rope around his leg, bending his body at the waist, while the langur tried unsuccessfully to untie the knot. The commotion in the tree above them only made things worse as the branches bounced up and down. Everything swayed and spun around so that the boy began to feel dizzy, until he heard a sound that made him stiffen with fear.
Human voices were calling out nearby and as the boy twirled helplessly in the air, he saw two figures blundering out of the jungle. The troop of langurs caught sight of them too and quickly sprang higher into the tree, except for the littlest monkey who stood his ground. He bared his teeth at the men as they approached but when one of them unslung a rifle from his shoulder, the langur backed away. He knew that the gun made a loud cracking sound and could kill an animal from far away. Reluctantly, the young langur crawled up onto a higher branch, watching to see what would happen next.
Image courtesy: Stephen Alter
The two men were forest guards and the boy had seen them many times before, patrolling the park. He had always kept himself hidden when they were around. As the guard with the rifle came closer, he spoke in a loud, impatient voice that the boy couldn’t understand. To him it was nothing more than a garbled set of sounds that made no sense.
As the second guard reached out to touch his arm, the boy lunged at him and bit the man’s hand. With an angry cry, the guard took a step backwards. The littlest langur made a chattering sound and the other man threw a stone at him before taking a length of rope from his bag. Grabbing the boy by his long, matted hair, he turned him around and caught both of his wrists. Speaking to each other roughly, the guards tied the boy’s arms together behind his back. Then the man with the rifle rested his weapon against the tree and unsheathed a knife.
Seeing the sharp, steel blade, the boy wasn’t sure what this was, though he sensed it must be dangerous. Tugging at his arms, the guards pulled their captive down, bending the branch overhead. With his one free leg, the boy kicked at the men. Moments later, the rope was cut and he fell to the ground. Landing heavily on a rock, he felt a sharp pain shoot up his back and shoulder. Yet, within an instant, he shook off the guards and started to run. At the same time, the langurs began pelting the men with sticks and green figs.
For a while, the boy could hear the langurs still coughing with alarm but soon they were out of earshot and the silent shadows of the forest closed in around them. Only the lone, little monkey followed overhead, slipping silently from branch to branch.
If his arms hadn’t been tied behind his back, the boy could have easily scrambled into a tree but instead he raced away into the jungle. Showered with twigs and fruit from above, the guards were distracted for a moment or two before they chased after him, shouting loudly.
Knowing there was a deep ravine nearby that led down to the river, the boy darted into the undergrowth. His one leg was numb from the snare and this slowed him down. Just as he reached the edge of the ravine, the noose, which was still around his ankle, got tangled in a thorn bush and he tripped. Close on his heels, the two guards tackled him as soon as he hit the ground. Though the boy fought back, they were stronger than him. Pinning their victim down, they tied his feet together. When he tried to bite them again, a rag was stuffed in his mouth.
The boy had no idea what the men were going to do next and their harsh voices frightened him as he lay on the ground. A short while later, they picked him up, one of them holding his legs, the other lifting his shoulders and carrying him along a path through the forest. For a while, the boy could hear the langurs still coughing with alarm but soon they were out of earshot and the silent shadows of the forest closed in around them. Only the lone, little monkey followed overhead, slipping silently from branch to branch.
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Stephen Alter is an award-winning author of twenty books of fiction and nonfiction, including Wild Himalaya: A Natural History of the Greatest Mountain Range on Earth, Becoming a Mountain: Himalayan Journeys in Search of the Sacred and the Sublime, and In The Jungles of the Night: A novel about Jim Corbett. He lives and writes in Mussoorie.
