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The bloody tale of a zombie-city (part 2)

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(Continued from the first part as published here.)

“In the beginning, the zombies hid in deserted places, coming out only at night to quench their blood-thirst. As time passed, they became more daring and started coming out in the daylight too,” Ryan wrote.

Then he asked his father: “Is Dracula real?”

“No, but I have seen the London graveyard where the author, Bram Stoker, conceived this idea,” said his father.

“Is it scary?” asked Ryan.

“Those are like mass graves where they buried the cholera victims,” said his father, adding: “But why are you interested in such things? You are still too young for that.”

Ryan was quiet for one whole minute and then said, “If you stop watching those television channels that you and mom do, I will not write about zombie cities.”

“What’s wrong with those channels?” asked his dad.

“Well, they always talk about bombings, murders, and riots,” said Ryan. “And they show mass graves too.”

Now his father was quiet, for the entire afternoon.

In the evening, he said to his wife: “We should only show our kids good channels and tell them good stories.” She agreed.


At night, when children asked for stories, the scribe told them the story of a young zebra who disobeyed his parents and was duly punished.

The young zebra and his parents lived in a particular part of the jungle which was close to a lake. This ensured a constant supply of water and fresh, green grass. But it had its drawbacks too: The water, and the presence of so many zebras, also brought predators. So every time the zebras went to the lake, they were followed by tigers, cheetahs and hyenas.

Yet, the zebras had a time-tested strategy to deal with this threat: staying together. They moved in large groups and whenever a predator attacked, the entire herd fought back. The kids and the weak stayed in the middle. The strong guarded the flock, always ready to kick a marauder. And even the lion feared a zebra’s kick.

Now, this zebra was still a kid but he thought he was big; big enough to go wherever he wanted. When his parents warned him not to go alone, particularly near the lake, he replied:

“I, too, can break a few jaws.”

One day, while he was grazing near his home, he noticed that the grass on the other side of the lake looked juicier and greener. He knew that the herd was waiting for the rains to fill the lake, bringing both water and grass to safer grounds.

The grass where the herd lived was pale and was trampled regularly by grass-eaters who used this safe passage to go to the lake. So it tasted bad.

The young zebra could smell the freshness of the grass growing tall on the other side of the lake. He had heard that predators often hid in the tall grass, waiting for the unsuspecting grass-eaters.

The zebra looked at the grass for the tenth time and then checked his strong legs. As he grew up, his muscles too were getting stronger and he could run faster than many others.

“I know it is dangerous out there but I have strong legs. I can run faster than a hare,” he said to himself. “I will just dash in and dash out, filling my mouth with fresh and juicy grass.”

But he also recalled his mother’s warning that many greedy grass-eaters had fallen to predators in that tall patch of grass which the elders called a death trap.

“I am not greedy,” he thought. “Just a few bites and I will run back.”

He had another look at the grass. It was very enticing. “It is for the young and the strong, not for the weak,” he said.

And before he could realize what he was doing, the young zebra rushed into the patch.

The grass was delicious, juicy and fresh. So much better than what he was munching near the safe passage.

“I love this grass, I love it,” he shouted and filled his mouth with as much grass as he could. One, two, three bites and soon he forgot that he had promised himself to rush back after a few bites.

“God, this grass is delicious, delicious!” he shouted and kept on munching the food that he thought was only for the brave. “Ha, ha, ha, I am having fun,” he started singing.

The noise alarmed a group of elephants grazing nearby.

“Who is that, an elephant?” said a young elephant to his mom.

“No, elephants are not that stupid. They eat quietly, particularly when there are tigers around,” said the mother.

“Are there?” asked the young elephant, startled.

“There are and that’s why we have maintained a safe distance,” said the father. “Although we are big and strong, one should always avoid unnecessary risks.”

The mother elephant looked around. There were six other elephants in the vicinity, all big and strong.

“Let’s go and see who is making this noise,” she said to other elephants. Two others agreed and they moved closer to the patch.

They saw the young zebra. He was so busy enjoying the grass that he had not yet noticed the tigers.

“That’s it. He is dead,” said the mother elephant.

“He is minced meat,” said the father.

The mother elephant moved closer and then said to her spouse. “You know who he is? Remember, the zebra who guided us to another lake when we had a drought here? This young fool is her son.”

“Now, that’s not good,” said the father elephant. “She saved our lives. We could have died of thirst if she had not guided us to the other lake.”

“Yes, you are right,” said the mother elephant. “Let me consult others.”

Then she raised her trunk and quietly gestured other elephants to come nearer. As they did, she told them about this zebra and his mother.

Meanwhile, the tigers had started closing their net around the zebra. Crouching in the tall grass, they were inching towards him with the certainty of the hunters who knew their prey could no longer escape.

“Do we want to help this zebra?” asked the mother elephant.

“Yes, we must,” said the father elephant. Others agreed.

“Then there is no time to waste. Let’s rush,” said the mother elephant.

“But the tigers are so close that they will reach him before we do,” said the father elephant.

“OK, then let’s blow our trumpets as loud as we can. This would surprise the tigers and alarm the zebra too. We then rush into the patch before they come out of the shock,” said another elephant who had dealt with the tigers before.

They did as advised and the tigers stopped moving. When the zebra saw the elephants, he too realized that something was wrong. He had seen the mother elephant often chatting with his own mother. So he ran towards her.

By the time the tigers concluded that this was a rescue mission and jumped into action, the elephants had reached there. Still, one tiger hit the zebra with a paw, throwing him on the ground. But the elephants encircled him, ready to crush the tigers if they came nearer.

The zebra was lucky that only three tigers were involved in this hunt. So when they saw so many strong and angry elephants, they withdrew, growling.

The zebra was still on the ground, bleeding. The mother elephant helped him get up while others maintained the circle. Soon, the zebra was on his feet. The mother elephant asked if he could walk. He said, “Yes,” and started walking towards the safe passage where other zebras had gathered to see what was happening in the patch.

As they saw one of their own, they rushed towards him. The zebra’s mother was the first to reach him, followed by the others. When she saw the injuries, she knew what had happened. Since the tigers were still there, the elephants stayed for as long as it took the injured zebra to reach his abode.

The next day, the mother zebra went to the elephants and told them that the entire zebra flock wanted to hold a big feast to for them to show their gratitude for saving her son.

As Ryan’s father finished this story, his mother said: “Even this story had violence, didn’t it?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” said the father. “We live in a violent world.”

“So I am right. We do live in a zombie-city, don’t we?” asked Ryan.

Back at the tavern, they were still waiting for the story of the merchant who understood the animals but could not understand his wife.


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