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Once upon a time, in a small forest along rolling Ganges, with whirlpools and fragrant fields, lived a hen named kukdookun . Kukdookun was not like others ; while his little companions were deep in slumber, our kukdookun would rise with the first rays of the sun. He found joy in the soft whispers of the morning breeze and the gentle caress of the dew-kissed grass beneath his nimble claws . Kukdookun lovingly called kuu and Kuu’s heart was always brimming with blue morning curiosity and twilight wonder and it sought solace in the beauty that unfolded at the break of the dawn.
One such morning, as kukdookun tiptoed through the sleepy village, his eyes caught a glimpse of a figure perched on a branch of an ancient tree. It was howl, the renowned wolf of the village, known for his howling ( sound that wolfs make at night) that carried tragic ballads and the stirring of emotions they evoked in all who listened. Howl a deliberate night owl, usually found inspiration under the blanket of darkness that shrouded the world.
Our kuuu, his heart devoid of any admiration for howl’s talent, was still determined to uncover the secret behind the poet’s sleep cycle and perhaps even inspire him with his own unique perspective. With newfound excitement so intense that , kuu was able to climb up the tree , his nimble dawn charged limbs carrying him effortlessly to where Howl sat lost in thought. As he reached the branch, he greeted the poet with a wide grin.
“Good morning, Howl! What brings you up here so early?”
Howl, startled by Kuu’s presence, glanced down and smiled at the revered morning riser preacher . “Ahh, prani- paat holy kuu, always filled with unquenchable curiosity. I come here to find the quietude and solitude that night bestows upon the world, a time when my thoughts flow freely, and my words pour forth effortlessly.”
Kuu, his eyes gleaming with inspiration, replied, “But Howl, have you ever experienced the magic of the morning? When the sun rises, it paints the sky with an artist’s brush, turning the dullest gray into a tapestry of warm hues. The world awakens, and every leaf, every flower, seems to dance in celebration. Perhaps, if you rise early like me, you will uncover a new wellspring of inspiration.”
Howl pondered kuu’s words, his dido like cute eyes searching for a deeper truth. He had spent years penning verses that he would cry aloud at night, but lately, his heart yearned for something more, something revolutionary that can make the lion king named Gurr less angry and his pals like leopard lepo and panther panthio more humane. The idea of the newfound inspiration intrigued , and with a gentle nod, he agreed to embark on this early morning adventure with kuu.
From that day forward, kuu and Howl became constant companions at the break of dawn. They strolled along the forest, their steps blending with the melodic chirping of birds. Kuu would point out the subtle changes in the landscapes, the transformation from night’s slumber to day’s awakening, an Howl would observe intently, like sir issac newton absorbing every detail as fell the apple.
As weeks turned into months, the forest dwellers began to notice a transformation in Howl’s poems. No longer were they filled with melancholic musings of the night; instead, they burned with the fiery passion of a new day. Howl stopped crying in the night and toiled on the lone wolf violen tunes that ignited hope and inspired the dwellers to seek change and embrace their own inner revolutionaries.
But fame comes with a price, and soon, word of Howl’s extraordinary poems reached the ears of the forest chief, Foxi the fox . Fearful that these revolutionary verses would awaken the hearts of his people and challenge his authority, the chief banished Kuu from the jungle, forbidding him from helping Howl ever reciting those poems again.
Devastated, Kuu and Howl found refuge in the nearby mountain cabe, where they took shelter beneath the protective canopy of ancient rocks. Despite the hardships, their spirits remained unbroken. To fill the void left by his silence, Howl began to teach Kuu the art of poetry, nurturing kuu’s talent in resonance with the morning temple bells.
Under Howl’s guidance, Kuu’s bhajans blossomed, capturing the essence of Shiva , Krishna , Buddha and Jesus. And as Kuu recited his own heartfelt verses, the forest seemed to vibrate with an energy that transcended time. Animals gathered around till those hills at the outskirts of the forest, their eyes glistening with understanding, as if they, too, had become part of the divine.
One dawn, as the sun painted the sky with shades of gold, a gentle breeze brought lion Gurr back to the forest who had set forth on a lion share debate held in the University of Corbett National Park. He found Foxi soon along with his clever conspiracy against kuu and held him upside down shaking him like we clean the dust out of bedsheets dum dum dum up and down, back and hovered towards the dark forests knowing well that no matter what, Howl remains awake at night.
The cave where howl and Kuu took refuge in was as dark as the blackhole and visibility was out of picture. But what, Gurr heard a snoring type sound. Initially Gurr thought it to some that some is yet an undiscovered species but as he observed deeply even that snoring had poetry in it and howling was sitting on the fences.
Such was the snoring. Herculean it was to travel deeper into the cave so gurr switched off and slept on a rock just near the cave.
At brahm muhrat some oracle happened . ” Good morning dear Gurr “. As Gurr opened his eyes he saw someone standing with a horizontal banana wide smile on his face and again he cleared his eye wax, and then again and again and again but the fact remained fact, IT WAS HOWL, right so early with a hymn rather than howl. Gurr slept again and kept on sleeping like a python , relaxed with the fact that now his forest is saved from Howl’s poet’s pain that used to torment all, all night.