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The midsummer sky stretched as far as the eyes could see. The sun had painted it pink and orange. Lazy cotton clouds floated in azure sky pools. They had nowhere to go. No ticking clocks to answer to.
Dusk settled upon the forest of Satpura. Pandora the pangolin stirred inside a deep, soft burrow. He crawled out of his underground home gingerly. His long snout sniffed the air outside. It was heavy with the fragrance of mahua, sal, ripe stone-apple.
'Ooh slugs?' he thought to himself as he caught a faint, delicious whiff of something familiar.
He shook the last remnants of sleep out of his spiky, grey scales. Then he stood on his hind legs and took a deep breath. Wasn’t it lovely? Just to be alive on a beautiful day like this.
The forest was abuzz with the sound of crickets starting their evening orchestra. It would be a while before the frogs would flaunt their pipes and upstage them as the singers of the forest. Their glory days would have to wait until the rains.
'Hello' said Pandora, to the last bees returning to their hive after a busy day of collecting honey.
'Gzzzoood evening…or izzz it a gzoood morning?' said the busy bees, not stopping for an answer.
Their day was almost over and Pandora’s had just begun.
He was up at night with the moon and the stars. Fast asleep during the day.
Something slithered in a bed of freshly fallen tendu leaves.
'Mmm……earthworms!' Pandora’s eyes sparkled.
He trudged up to a rotting log and poked it with a long, slender finger. Nothing came out. Then he flicked his sticky tongue into a hole in it. Still nothing.
The ant castle next to Pandora’s burrow was empty.
Its residents were in Pandora’s belly. Most of them anyway.
The others had scurried away with their lives, as fast as their six legs could carry them.
‘Chewchewchew……Krrrrstckrrrrrr’.
Pandora’s stomach was talking again. It had been many hours since his last brinner. What’s that? A dinner that’s also a breakfast.
‘Some beetle juice would be so lovely’ Pandora said to no one in particular. But a dung beetle passing by heard him and hastened its pace.
No one wanted to be brinner for a toothless animal. You went down the food pipe and swam around in the stomach for eternity, till the stomach juices did what they do and well…that’s a story for another day.
Pandora tapped on another tree’s bark hoping for a feast of termites to crawl out. No luck.
He could eat up to seventy million insects a year. Termites were his favourites. You could call him the pest control officer of the forest.
In the village kissing the edge of the forest however, the people didn’t know that. They had no clue that Pandora was keeping their crops safe from termites. Or that he was the undisputed king of beetle eating contests.
If the pangolin was not a pangolin, he would show off a little. Flex a muscle or two. But like all pangolins, Pandora was shy to a fault.
The stripe-necked mongoose told his friends, ‘Pandora is a mysterious fellow. He never talks to anyone.’
The giant squirrels snickered, ‘What secrets are burrowed in Pandora’s burrow?’
There were no secrets. Pandora just liked his solitude. The burrow was his safe place. He was a real homebody. He did not have too many friends. He took himself out on moonlit strolls. He looked up at the stars often and they spoke to him.
Pandora’s world was wonderful.
There was just one problem. The supply of creepy crawlies was drying up near the burrow. That meant, he’d soon have to leave his lovely home and find a place to live.
The new burrow had to be perfect. Far away from where the big cats roamed.
Finding a new burrow wouldn’t be easy. It would take a fair bit of searching, poking, prodding and digging. He might have to hike miles away from his old home.
There were untold dangers lurking in the forest. Tigers and leopards with daggers for teeth that could sink into his flesh.
Pandora could roll up into a ball. His scales enveloping his body like armour, hiding his peach fuzz belly. Tail pressed tightly against his face. He could make himself look like a boulder. A lifeless mound of dry earth. He wouldn’t let himself be big cat food. Nope. Not today.
‘Crunch…crunch…crunchcrunchcrunch.’
Suddenly, Pandora heard quickening footsteps. His heart thumped so loud, he was afraid someone would hear it. He smelled the air. He could feel someone inching closer.
He heard stealthy yet restless hands parting thickets and shrubs.
Someone was looking for something.
Looking for him? Pandora?
The poacher. He was back.
He had taken Pandora’s whole family. Word was that they had been smuggled to a land of snowy mountains and paddy fields far, far away. His father had become a pair of tough boots. His mother, a magic powder that could cure arthritis and make people fall in love.
His grandfather, the main course at a wedding dinner. And his brother had met his unlucky end as someone’s lucky charm pendant.
Pangolin skin was said to possess magic powers.
And though it had long been proven otherwise by scientists with big brains, and research data spanning thousands of pages, people refused to listen. Truth lost its way.
If Pandora’s reflex wasn’t quick enough he would end up in a glass jar in the markets of Guangzhou. Packed in a cage, hauled secretly across state borders.
The poacher was hot on his trail.
He could hear him closing in.
Pandora darted into the hole of a mango tree. A shudder ran up his spine.
Before he could catch his breath, smoke billowed into the hole.
The poacher was trying to smoke him out with a fire.
Pandora could barely breathe. His eyes stung.
He clung on to his life but he felt his legs turn into jelly.