From The Baboon Chronicles

Once there was a troop of baboons that lived in a lush green mountain valley. The valley had many fruit laden trees, that grew around a stream that trickled out of a hole high in a cliff, gathered in a little lake at the foot, and then meandered in a crystal stream through the valley until losing itself in a river in the plains below. The chief of the baboon clan was named Moammar; and a mighty chief was he, with a great silver cape of fur growing on his shoulders, which was the envy of all the other baboons around. No other baboon had such a luxuriant cape: for only the leader could grow one that long and lustrous. "We must tend to the lake," Moammar said, "for it is fed by rain in the higher mountains, and should the rain fail, the lake will dry up and the river die. And if the rain be too heavy, the lake will burst its banks and flood the valley and wash us all away." So the baboons did as he directed, and piled stones and branches around the lake. When the rains were scarce, they built the piles higher, and the water was confined and there remained enough to drink and keep the trees alive. And when the rains were heavy, they pulled away the piles, so the excess water safely drained away. So the baboon troop lived in their beautiful valley, and flourished, eating the fruits that grew on the trees, and the insects of various kinds that came to destroy the fruit and stayed to become meals. Now there were other baboon troops elsewhere, on a great dry plateau near the valley; and these troops had no river and no fruit trees, but had to live in thorny acacia and search for grubs and seeds among stones. They remained thin and hungry and disease ridden, but that was not all. There were leopards on the plateau, great spotted beasts that preyed on the hapless baboons. The leopards could not catch them easily in the thorny acacia branches, but lay in wait on the ground, knowing the baboons would have to descend to look for food. And each time the baboons, driven by hunger, descended, the leopards would jump on them and eat several, skin and bone and all. Moammar the valley baboon leader looked and saw what was happening to the plateau baboons, and this troubled his soul greatly. "We have more fruit than we can eat," he said. "If we give the excess to the plateau baboons, they need never come down from their acacias, and then the leopards cannot kill and eat them. We should do this." The leopards came to know of the plan and this angered them greatly. "We have an easy life here," they said to each other. "We do not have to exert ourselves chasing gazelles or defending our kills from lions or hyenas. We just have to sit near the acacia trees and eat the baboons when they come down. But if the valley baboons give them fruit, they will not come down at all, and we will have to work for our food, going afield to chase prey. And that won't do at all." Now among the leopards there was a particularly cruel and rapacious old female known to the others as Killary. "I have an idea," she said, licking her fangs. "This Moammar has a tremendous cape of silver fur, a matter of envy to all the rest. None of the others can grow one quite like this because that do not have his authority." Slinking to the edge of the valley, she whispered to the baboons in the fruit trees who were far away from the troop leader. "Why do you want to give any of your fruit to the undeserving baboons of the plateau?" she asked. "Is it not your fruit? And what right do they have to it?" "This is true," a few of the baboons agreed. "Why should they get our fruit? But Moammar is our chief and we must listen to him." "Why should he be your chief?" Killary whispered, swishing her tail from side to side. "Do you not deserve to grow great silver capes on your shoulders like him? Do you not want the pretty young girl baboons to be part of your harems, not his? Overthrow him and you will not only have all that, but your fruit too." The baboons talked among themselves for a while, and then they said, "Yes, we agree; but Moammar is a great chief, with many strong baboons by his side; how can we prevail against him?" "We will fix that," Killary said. "Rebel against him and ask my fellow leopards and me for help." Then the baboons rose up in rebellion against Moammar, but as they had themselves feared, the great chief and his warrior baboons soon put them to flight and it seemed that the rebellion must at any moment be ended. "Help us, Killary!" the rebellious baboons screamed. "Help us, Sarkonazi! Help us, all you other leopards!" And the leopards, who had been lying in wait, sprang into the valley and began killing Moammar's warrior baboons until only Moammar himself, wounded and bleeding, was left; and the rebellious baboons leapt on him with teeth and claws until he was no more. "The job is done!" the leopards said, licking their fangs. "No fruit to the plateau baboons now. We can feast at will." "Yessss," Killary purred. "We came, we saw, he died. Hehehehehehe." And with the other leopards she departed satisfied to the plateau, to keep eating the baboons there. Now in the valley the rebellious baboons each wanted to grow the most magnificent silver cape of fur on the valley, and have the largest harem of pretty girl baboons; but only the chief could do that. So they fell to fighting, all against each other, biting and clawing and warring among the branches so that all the unripe fruit was knocked down to the ground and spoilt. Along with war, hunger came to the valley. Meanwhile the rain clouds gathered overhead, thick and dark, and thunderstorms and torrential rain lashed the high mountains. Water flooded down the cliff and filled up the lake, pressing on the piles of sticks and stones at its sides. But the baboons had been far too busy fighting to see to the maintenance, naturally, so the lake burst its banks and a flash flood rushed down the valley. And all the baboons who had been, because there was no fruit left in the trees, looking for something to eat on the ground, were caught up in the immense surge of water and washed away. From the plateau Killary and the other leopards watched. "What a pity," Killary said, winking. "They were such a large and successful troop, but they fell to fighting among themselves and didn't bother to repair their own homes. One wonders how it could have happened. Oh well." Then, sighing in satisfaction, they went back to killing the baboons who came down from the acacia trees.

From The Baboon Chronicles

Once upon a time, long ago, there was a baboon troop that lived in a tree by an oasis.

It was a splendid tree, full of succulent fruit; and below the tree’s bark scurried juicy beetles, which could be scraped out with a diligent claw and crunched down with relish. And the tree’s branches were studded with thorns, so sharp and long that not even a leopard would dare venture to climb into it.

So the baboons prospered exceedingly. All day they ran around on the ground, rooting for worms and seeds, and drank deeply from the water hole. And at night they climbed on the tree, chewed at fruit and insects, and slept safely until the new day.

On the far side of the oasis there lived an old crocodile. The crocodile was very old and very large, and he did not bother the baboons at all, for they were far too swift for him to catch, and too small to be worth the effort. All day he lay on the shore, his jaws open to let the cleaner birds peck rotting food from his teeth. In the evening, as the baboons retreated into their tree, he would slip noiselessly into the water, and wait for the antelopes and zebras to come down to drink. And then he would hunt, and if he was successful, he would not hunt again for several days, for he never killed more than he could eat. This was the crocodile.

Now it so happened that one day a young baboon found a glittering stone by the water. It was red and blue and white and glittered in the sun, and the baboon liked it exceedingly. Holding it up in his paws, he rushed back to the tree to show the other baboons what he had found.

“It is pretty,” the baboons all said, “but it isn’t any use, is it?” And they glanced at it out of the corners of their eyes, for they were all taken by it.

“If you give it to me,” one of the other baboons said, a big baboon, with a mane like a lion.  “If you give it to me, I will give you three extra fruit and a beetle tonight.”

“But I can find three fruit and a beetle to eat by myself,” the young baboon said. “Why should I give it to you?”

“I live on the branch with the best fruit and beetles in the tree,” the big baboon responded. “I can give you bigger, tastier fruit and juicier beetles than you would find elsewhere.”

So the young baboon gave the big baboon the glittering stone, and in return got three fruit and a beetle, which were perhaps bigger and juicier than elsewhere on the tree, or perhaps not; but they certainly looked bigger and juicier to the other young baboons.

And the other big baboons looked at the glittering stone and each said to himself, “He has a stone that we don’t. He will claim to be better than us because he has the stone. Therefore I must get my own stone too. But where can I find one?”

The next morning the big baboons each discreetly called some young baboons to him. “Find one of the glittering stones for me,” they said, “and I will give you four fruit and two beetles to eat.” And all the young baboons went out on to the shores of the oasis, and dug assiduously among the rocks and sand and grass, looking for a stone. And by the end of the day each had found one stone, except one, who had found two.

That night all the big baboons had a stone each, except one, who had now two. And all night the other big baboons twisted uneasily on their branches, looking at their stones and reminding themselves that one of them now had two.

So the next morning they summoned the younger baboons again. “Get more stones,” they said, “and you’ll get five fruit and three beetles to eat.”

All day the young baboons toiled, searching for stones instead of looking for food for themselves; and when they finally arrived, tired and hungry, they had found enough stones so that each of the big baboons had got more. Some now had two, some three, some even four or five, and one or two even had as many as seven.

“This will never do,” the baboons who only had three or four each said to himself. “Tomorrow I must have more stones than anyone else.”

“But,” the young baboons whined the next morning, “we spend all our time looking for these stones, and we have no time left over to get food or water for ourselves; the few fruit and beetles you give us at night are hardly enough to assuage our hunger and thirst.”

“How dare you,” the big baboons roared. “We give you these excellent fruit and beetles from our branches, which you have no right to taste otherwise, and you will not even look for stones for us. Very well, we will not allow you to eat even a single fruit, or a single beetle, from the tree. Let us see how you manage to live on seeds and roots alone.”

Soon, then, the young baboons were starving, for all of them were forced to compete for the few seeds and roots and insects in the grass by the oasis, and not touch even a single dried-up rind of a fruit from the tree; and when, at night, they crept up into the branches for shelter, the big baboons chased them away with fearsome roars and gnashing of teeth.

“You won’t eat from our branches, you won’t sleep in our branches,” they said. “Away with you!”

“But we’ll starve to death,” whined the young baboons, “or the leopard will get us.”

“That is none of our affair,” the big baboons said. “You are responsible for your own plight.” And they went up into their tree to eat fruit and scratch up bark to find beetles to gnaw on, while the young baboons went off hungry into the night to find what shelter they could.

Soon enough, as the big baboons had known, the young baboons one by one crept back begging to be allowed to look for stones in return for fruit and beetles and shelter. “Very well,” the big baboons told them, “but you’ll get only one fruit and one beetle for each stone you find. You’re lazy and greedy and we don’t have enough to feed your greed.”

So the young baboons spent all their days searching for stones, and gratefully eating whatever fruit and beetles they could earn from their labours. But, as time went on, little by little they had searched almost the entire shores of the oasis, and collected all the stones they could find, and there were no more to be found.

“Get us more stones,” the big baboons thundered. “We need more stones.”

“There are plenty of stones on the other side of the watering hole,” the young baboons reported, “but we cannot reach them. They are where the old crocodile spends his day basking in the sun. If we come close to him, he will bite us in half.”

“We must have the stones,” the big baboons declared. “The evil old crocodile is stealing our stones, the stones that belong to us. We will make war on him! He is old and stupid, and we are many and have sharp claws and teeth. And, besides, the Great Baboon is on our side, so we cannot possibly lose.”

And so the baboons formed into an army and stormed the other end of the oasis, where the old crocodile was dozing peacefully in the sun. They came hooting and howling, throwing stones and sharp sticks as they came, their fangs and claws bared.

The old crocodile watched them come, and tolerated their stones and sticks and their sharp bites as long as he could.

Then he stirred, and with one sweep of his tail he smashed half the baboons into the middle of next week. And he opened his gigantic jaws, and bit the other half in two with one snap and a half.

Then he went back to sleep on the shore, because the day was only half done.

And the stones around him glittered, green and white and red in the sun.

 Copyright B Purkayastha 2020

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Note to Reader:

The above is not meant to be satire on the Amerikastani warmongering against Iran, culminating in the murder of General Qassem Soleimani.

And if you believe that the above is not meant to be satire on the Amerikastani warmongering against Iran, you must be an idiot...or else an Amerikastani.

From the Baboon Chronicles

Once upon a time, there was a large valley among the mountains in which lived several troops of baboons.

Now, this valley was large and the topography was varied. Some parts of it had abundant water and trees laden with fruit, while others were drier and had nice juicy locusts and beetle grubs, and yet others, high on the slopes overlooking the valley, had herbs growing which could cure most illnesses.

There was also a certain kind of nut which grew in the valley. These nuts weren’t eaten by the baboons most of the time, because they were hard-shelled, difficult to break, and not really very tasty at all. But they kept excellently, and so the baboons stockpiled them for times when the food supply ran low. These nuts grew more in some parts of the valley than in others, and they grew in greatest profusion in those parts of the valley which were most arid, desolate, and isolated – in fact, those that had hardly anything else at all.

“We have nothing else but these nuts,” the troops of baboons which lived in those areas said. “We have no fruit, or beetle grubs, or even locusts here, which keep the other troops so well. But we have the nuts, and they do not.”

“We should trade with the others for their fruit and beetle grubs and locusts,” the baboons then said to each other. “That way, we can have the best of what the others have, and they can have the nuts that can keep them alive during times of trouble.”

And so the baboon troops began trading with each other, and soon the nuts became the currency of exchange.

Now it so happened that among the baboon troops there was one which, while not the largest, was peculiarly vicious and aggressive. This particular troop, in fact, had occupied a prime part of the valley by attacking and driving away the more peaceable troops that originally occupied the spot; and though it had plenty of water and fruit, locusts and beetle larvae, the troop was not satisfied.

“We must take as much of the fruit and water, locusts and larvae, as we can from the other troops in the valley,” the elders of the troop declared. “Our baboons deserve nothing less!”

“We are the greatest troop of all,” the troop said. “Clearly the Great Baboon favoured us above all others, and we are exalted in His eyes.”

“But,” some lesser baboons ventured, “we have hardly any nuts growing here, so we have nothing to trade with.”

“That does not matter,” the elders declared confidently. “We have stones aplenty in our territory. We will force the other troops to accept these stones in lieu of nuts.”

“But what if the other troops do not agree to accept stones instead of nuts?” the lesser baboons demanded.

“Why, we’ll promise to exchange them for nuts at some time in the future,” the elders said. “And they can wait forever and a day for the future to come, as far as we’re concerned.”

“And if they should refuse to accept the promise?” the lesser baboons countered.

“Are we not the strongest, meanest, most vicious troop in the valley?” the elder baboons snapped. “Who dares stand against us? Are you un-Troopian, and therefore you oppose what is best for our troop? Do you oppose the will of the Great Baboon?” And they signalled, so that cohorts of the most aggressive and savage of the baboons closed in around the dissenters. “Well?”

Seeing no alternative but to acquiesce, the lesser baboons gave in, except for a few holdouts, who were accordingly torn to pieces. And the Troop of the Great Baboon went out to the others, and forced them to accept stones in lieu of all their fruits, and larvae, and locusts. Whenever any troop refused, or claimed that they did not have enough for their own use to be able to spare any for themselves, the Troop of the Great Baboon invaded their territory, massacred them, and took everything that it wanted, scattering a few stones as payment. And the other troops shivered in fear when they saw all this, and most of them gave in meekly.

One year it so happened that there was a drought on the land, and the supply of food was growing short. The Troop of the Great Baboon had no nuts growing in their own territory. Moreover, having long since decided that they could go and take by force whatever they could not exchange for stones, they had bothered to save no food at all. And they looked around them and realised that they would have to acquire food from the other troops, if they were not to cut down on the amount they had grown used to consuming.

“It is clearly not intended by the Great Baboon that we should starve,” the elders said. “Therefore it is not just our right but our duty to take from other lesser troops what we need.”

But the other troops themselves had little left over, and they refused to accept payment in the form of stones; so the Troop of the Great Baboon attacked their lands, expecting that they would give up like always before. But the lesser baboons knew that it was a question of their very survival, so they fought like they had never fought before. And the Troop of the Great Baboon was forced to spend more and more blood on fighting, and got nothing at all in return.

Now among the Troop of the Great Baboon there were two cliques, which distinguished themselves from each other by staining their muzzles with the juice of berries; one group stained itself blue, and the other red. Both these cliques squabbled much among themselves, loudly and angrily, as a matter of course, and each claimed to have the special favour and divine sanction of the Great Baboon himself.

Every few years these troops would gather to select from among themselves an Elder of Elders, who would rule over them. Each clique would choose one from among themselves, and all the baboons would throw sticks into a circle, which would then be counted. The clique which managed to throw more sticks into the centre of the circle would get to have its chosen baboon become the Elder of Elders. And then they would go right back to living, and squabbling, as usual, until next time.

Now this time the food situation, owing to the failed battles, was getting serious, so the two cliques began screaming even louder than usual to lay their claims to the position of Elder of Elders.

“If I win,” the candidate from the Blue clique, who was already one of the troop’s most vicious enforcers, declared, “I will send even more baboons to attack even more troops – and all the food they capture, I’ll make sure to distribute among the troop members. Well, of course,” she added hastily, “some will get more than others, but that’s how the world is.”

“I’ll end all the wars,” the other candidate, from the Red clique, declared, “and bring the baboons home. Of course, we’ll have less food that way, so everyone will have to eat a little less. Of course,” he added as hastily, “ that doesn’t apply to the elders, who need all the food they can get to have the energy to lead our Troop.”

“He’s right,” the Red clique yelled. “No, she’s right!” shrieked the Blue clique.

And the baboons gathered to select the Elder of Elders at the circle. They gathered, and as the time of the casting of the sticks grew nearer they began squabbling more and more, and then they began to bite and scratch and wrestle each other.

“Which of them has won?” they demanded, after throwing their sticks into the circle at last. “Ours, who is the Anointed of the Great Baboon...or theirs, who isn’t?”

The baboons whose task it was to count the sticks picked them up, and looked at them, silent.

“Well?” the cliques demanded. “Which is it?”

The baboons just stared at the gathered cliques. “What difference does it make?” one asked at last.

And the gathered baboons looked at each other, at the juice which had rubbed off and mingled during their fighting, so that red and blue were mixed and matched to a uniform purple. They looked at each other, and then at the two candidates.

And already it was impossible to say which was which.

From the Baboon Chronicles

Once upon a time, two baboon troops lived in a valley in the mountains.

It was a deep and pleasant valley, verdant and fertile, and covered with trees which bore large and luscious fruit, with long grass with tasty seeds, and juicy insects which burrowed in the ground and scurried among the roots. The streams that ran through the valley were deep and cool, and the water holes fresh and clear.

The two troops of baboons lived on opposite sides of the valley, with their territories separated by a river. The name of one troop was the Blue troop, because of the colour of its members’ faces; the other was the Red troop, because that was the colour of its members’ behinds.

One year it so happened that a great drought came on the land, a drought so severe that the water holes and pools shrank and almost disappeared, and the earth became hard and cracked as sun-dried brick. The grass and leaves withered and turned sere and brown, and the sky, day after day after day, was the colour of burnished brass.

So severe was the drought that the food the baboons ate, the seeds and nuts, became as hard and dry and without nutrition as pieces of gravel; and the insects burrowed deep under the ground, so deep that even the baboons could not dig them out.  So severe was the drought that the fruit on the trees remained the only food to be found.

And as the months passed, the drought became more and more severe; the sun seemed to suck every drop of water from the very land and air, and even the fruit became dry and wrinkled, and hard as stone. The water holes dried to puddles of damp soil, and finally vanished. The river shrank, too, from a broad, crystal clear flood to a narrow thread of liquid mud. And still the drought went on.

Then at last the two Blue leaders called all the members of their troop together. “Clearly,” one said, “there is not enough food and water on our side of the valley for us to survive on. We must, therefore, make up our minds what to do.”

“We can either leave the valley altogether,” another continued, “and look for better pickings on the mountains, where perhaps, among the scrub and the thorn trees, we may find some trickle of water, some nest of insects, to keep us alive. We can leave this valley, which is our birthright, for the uncertainty of life on the mountain. Or...”

“Or,” the first leader continued, “we can drive out the Red Troop that occupies half our valley. The Great Baboon gave us this valley for our own, and proved it by providing us all the food, and water that we might need. But we have been sharing His gifts with the Red interlopers, who have no place in this valley, and have no rights to anything of ours.”

“Clearly, that is why the Great Baboon has brought down this drought on us,” the second leader said. “He wants us to drive out the Reds, and occupy the whole valley, which He has given us in His infinite wisdom. There is still enough food and water in the whole valley for our troop, as long as we do not share with anyone.”

The first leader glared around at the baboons. “And if we hesitate,” he said, “if we dally too long in making up our minds, the Reds will attack us, and drive us out, and take over the valley for themselves; for they are evil and bitter, and envy us in all things we do.”

“What should we do then?” the second leader asked the assembled troop. “Should we give up our birthright and become wanderers on the mountain slopes...or should we fight?”

“Fight!” the assembled baboons shouted in unison. “We must fight!”

“See,” the first leader replied, “the Great Baboon has even made it easy for us to invade their land, by drying up the river to a muddy trickle. He has paved the way to our victory!”

“Attack!” the second leader commanded. “Attack at once, and drive out the Red interlopers to the wastes from which they came!”

So the Blue troop rose up at one, and rushed across the river, and threw themselves on the Red troop on the other side. But the Red troop had seen them coming, and fought back with such courage that they broke the Blue advance, and at the end of the day, though there had been a mighty slaughter, neither side had won a victory.

That night the Blue leaders called their troop together again for a council of war. “We have lost many,” the baboons complained, “and gained nothing. Many of us are weary and wounded, bruised and bleeding. We no longer believe that we can win so easily.”

“But no,” the first leader said, “we cannot give up now. Tomorrow, we must attack at first light again, for if we step back now, it will embolden the Reds, and make them think we are weak.”

“Besides,” the second leader added, “if we do not continue the war, if we stop fighting, it would only mean that all the blood we have shed has been shed in vain. So we must keep fighting.”

So the next morning the Blue troop again attacked across the river, and there was more slaughter. But once again the Red troop fought back with mighty courage, and after a day of bitter combat, both sides, as before, were locked in a stalemate.

Once again the Blue leaders called a council of war, and loud were the rebellious muttering from the troop. “If the Great Baboon had wanted us to win the war,” the baboons said, “He should have given us weapons to fight with, which the enemy cannot counter. As things are, we can kill each other, but we can’t win.”

The two Blue leaders looked at each other. “But there are weapons,” the first said, pointing to the branches overhead. “Look, the Great Baboon, in His wisdom, has dried the fruit until they are harder than stones, and easier to throw. What better weapons can there be?”

“But the fruit are the only food we have left,” the baboons argued. “How can we waste them in fighting?”

“When we have driven out the Red troop,” the second leader proclaimed, “and have the whole valley in our hands, there will be fruit enough for everyone.”

“So gather the fruit and keep them to hand,” the first leader ordered. “Tomorrow, we will attack them again and destroy them.”

So the next morning, the Blue troop, for the third time, rushed across the river to the Red side, this time flinging fruit before them with all their might as they went. Though the Red troop was taken by surprise at this tactic, they fought back as bravely as they could. Even so, little by little, they were driven back, until at nightfall the Blue troop held half the Red territory.

Then the Blue leaders called the troop together again. “See,” the first leader said, “Another day will win us victory.”

“But they are still fighting hard,” the baboons said, “and we have both shed so much blood that perhaps it would be better if we shared the valley, and everything would belong to everyone.”

“That would be heresy and sacrilege,” the second leader proclaimed. “The Great Baboon has armed us, shown us our duty, and set our feet on the path of righteousness. We cannot fail Him now.”

“But we have exhausted all the fruit we brought,” the baboons said. “We have none left, and tomorrow we must fight again.”

“There are plenty of fruit here,” the Blue leaders said, pointing at the trees around them. “The Great Baboon has provided us with the fruit here, and blinded our Red enemies to their use as weapons. Clearly, it is our duty to gather them for tomorrow’s fight.”

So the Blue baboons gathered the fruit, and when morning came, they continued the desperate battle. The Red troop, made desperate by the precariousness of their situation, fought back quite as hard, flinging sticks and stones, fighting with teeth and claws. But the fruit prevailed, and, step by step, the Red troop was driven back, until at last, as the last light of the day departed, they, too, quit the valley for the mountain slopes.

Then the Blue leaders gathered their troop together. “All hail the Great Baboon,” the first leader exulted. “He has given us victory, and our valley back again.”

“We shall have a great feast to celebrate,” the second leader said. “Prepare for it at once!”

“What with?” the baboons asked. “What shall we eat at this feast?”

The Blue leaders looked at the troop, suddenly silent; and the troop looked back at them.

And the branches of the trees stood stark and bare in the darkness of the gathering night.

 Copyright B Purkayastha 2015

[Image Source]

From The Baboon Chronicles

Once upon a time, in a remote valley, there lived a troop of baboons.

The troop was fairly large, and considered itself fortunate, for the valley was well-watered and fertile, with plenty of fruit and grubs to eat; and the leopard, which they all feared, never visited it.

“We are so fortunate,” the baboons said, “that we must be Blessed. There must be a Great Baboon who is very pleased with us.”

“He must be sitting on top of that mountain in the distance,” some of the baboons replied. “From there he can see us, and everything we do. If we are to stay in his favour, we must keep pleasing him.”

“Yes,” the other baboons agreed. “Let us, therefore, take the best of the fruit and grubs we collect, and leave them at the foot of the mountain, so that he may be content and happy.” And so this was done.

Time passed, and the baboons grew increasingly curious as to the nature of the Great Baboon who had so blessed them.

“If he’s so powerful,” some of the baboons said, “he must be very large and strong, and more than us in every way. His fur must be thicker and more lustrous, his teeth longer and sharper, his eyes keener, and his rump even redder than ours.”

“No, no,” other baboons answered. “Red rumps are only for us ordinary baboons. For the Great Baboon, that could never do. No, the only possible colour for the rump of the Great Baboon is blue.”

“That is an insult to the Great Baboon,” the first group of baboons retorted. “The Great Baboon could never have a blue rump. Why, the very idea is ridiculous!”

“Look who’s talking,” some of the second group sneered. “They think they can set down rules for what the Great Baboon could be like. Why, they’re setting themselves up above the Great Baboon himself!”

“Heresy!” the rest of the second group agreed. “They are going to make the Great Baboon angry with their presumption, and he will punish us all. We must destroy them!”

So the blue party attacked the red party, who fought back. Great was the slaughter, and much blood flowed. The red party fought with teeth and claws, because they thought it was blasphemous to use sticks and stones. The blue party had no such inhibitions, and therefore, after a long and hard struggle, ultimately prevailed.

“We must destroy the remaining red heretics,” the blue party decided. And so it was done.

Then one day the lightning flashed continuously round the top of the mountain of the Great Baboon, and the thunder came rumbling across the sky, terrifying old and young baboon alike.

“The Great Baboon must be angry,” the baboons whispered.

“We have done nothing to make him so furious,” the baboons said. “We have given him the best of all the fruit and grub we found. We have destroyed the blasphemers who dared suggest he had a mere red butt. So he must be angry over something else.”

“Perhaps he is ill,” some of the baboons suggested.

“That must be it,” the others agreed. “He must be in agony.”

A peal of thunder sounded, so strong that the land seemed to shake.

“He must have a thorn in his paw,” suggested some of the baboons. “That is a cry of agony just as when one of us gets a thorn.”

“How can the Great Baboon have a thorn in his paw?” the others objected. “That is patently ridiculous. He must have a pain in his belly.”

“And who are you to say what he may have and may not have?” the first lot shot back. “Do you mean to say you know better than the Great Baboon himself?”

“Heretics!” shrieked the second group. “They must be eradicated, for the greater glory of the Great Baboon!”

And so there was slaughter. In the end the thorn-paw group prevailed, and killed all their stomach-ache opponents. And only moments afterwards, the thunder stopped and the sun came out.

“That proves it,” the thorn-paws said. “We were right, and the Great Baboon is pleased.”

And, three days later, the thunder came again.

Copyright B Purkayastha 2014

From the Baboon Chronicles

Once upon a time, a long way away from here, a baboon troop lived in a valley in the middle of the desert, in the lee of a high and rocky mountain.

It was a lush and fertile valley, for all that it was surrounded by stony hills and sand stretching to the distant horizon, for in the valley there was a deep oasis filled with cool, fresh water, around which grew trees heavy with fruit. It was, in fact, a wonderful place for the baboon troop, because not only did it have plenty to eat and drink, but because no leopard could possibly reach it all the way across the desert. In consequence, they called themselves the Great Troop.

There were a few other small valleys nearby, mere scratches in the earth, with scraggly acacia growing around water holes which scarcely held anything more than liquid mud. A few tiny troops of baboons lived in these valleys, too, but they were few, disease ridden, stunted from chronic starvation, and looked down on by the baboons of the Great Troop as worthy of only contempt.

The Great Troop baboons looked around, then, and said to themselves: “We must be the favourite of the Great Baboon, for he has seen fit to give us – and to us alone – this bounty of plenitude. Therefore, as we are favoured above all other baboons, it seems clear that we are the best of all, and that what we think, or say, or do, matters more than what any other baboons say, or think, or do, in all the whole wide world.

“Furthermore,” they said, looking around, “the bounty given unto us is to be enjoyed, and it would be spurning the gifts of the Great Baboon if we did not enjoy it.” So they took the fruit that grew on the trees, and not only ate it, but also kept it in heaps till it fermented and produced wine. The females tore off the flowers when they were in season, and decorated themselves by wearing them in their fur, and saw that it made them beautiful, which made them even surer of the grace of the Great Baboon.  They drank the water in the oasis, and also washed themselves in it, and carried it away to make mud enclosures in which to live, because staying in the trees no longer seemed attractive. And the males vied with each other in making larger and more high-walled enclosures, for they thought that such would attract more females. And so the time passed.

One day the leaders of the Great Troop looked around the valley, and what they saw filled them with a vague alarm. “The oasis is almost dry,” they said, “because all the water has gone into making the mud houses. And what little remains is foul with dirt, because the people wash themselves in it.

“Also,” they said, “the roots of the trees are dry, for the water is gone. And so they have put forth few flowers, and of those the women of the people have taken most to make themselves look beautiful. And of those which went to fruit, the majority went to make wine. So the fruit trees are bare, and there is not enough left to eat.”

“Should we then give up our lifestyle, break down the mud houses, and go back to living flowerless and wineless in the trees?” someone asked. “Is that the desire of the Great Baboon?”

“How can that be?” the elders of the troop argued. “The Great Baboon set us above all others, and He cannot possibly desire that we go back to the primitive existence of all the other baboons. Of course we must continue living as we did, but we shall have to find water, flowers, and fruit for ourselves.”

“Where can we find them?” one of the elders of the troop worried. “The only way we can find them is to invade and conquer the other valleys, which are full of inferior baboons, who make no use of the resources they have.”

“It will be easy to conquer them,” another countered, “for they are few, weak and scrawny. Clearly, the Great Baboon means us to overcome them, and clearly, too, we must teach them our ways, for we are so clearly superior to them. In fact, we have a duty to invade and conquer them.”

And so that is what they did. Some of the other baboon troops resisted, often fiercely, but they were weak and few, and they had only their teeth to defend themselves, while the Great Troop's army had sticks and stones. So, finally, there came a time when there was in that part of the desert not one valley which was not under the domination of the Great Troop.

“Now,” said the elders of the Great Troop happily, “we can live as the Great Baboon intended, and as we have always done.” And the troop continued to make their mud enclosures, and flowers from the trees, and fermented the fruit into wine.

But then one day the elders looked around, and in all the valleys there was not a single one which had fruit or flower, or even water, left; and they were badly shaken.

“Something will have to be done,” they said. But there was nothing to be done except give up their privileged lives, and clearly the Great Baboon could not have intended that.

“We are hungry and thirsty,” cried the baboons of the Great Troop to their elders. “Where has all our fruit and water gone? Even our women cannot find flowers to wear in their fur. Help us.”

“There must be a source for our misfortunes,” an elder declared. “It must be those evil baboons who live up on the mountain. They have seen our great riches and are envious, and they have conspired against us. They come in secret, steal our fruit and dirty our water, and stop us from living the way the Great Baboon intended. They are enemies of the Way of the Great Baboon.”

“Clearly,” the other elders agreed, “it is our duty to defeat their plans. We must at once prepare an army to march upon the mountain and destroy those baboons. It is a matter of our security.”

“You must all,” the first elder told the Troop, “help the army prepare, and give them all aid, for they are going to fight for your rights and freedom to live as the Great Baboon intended.”

“We will, we will,” the baboons of the troop said. And so they gave all the food, water and wine they could spare to the army, which marched upon the mountain.

But time passed, and the army did not come back from the mountain. The people continued to send food and water up its heights, and clamoured for news to the elders.

“The war is going well,” the elders proclaimed. “The army has conquered the mountain. However, it must continue to occupy it lest the evil baboons come back.”

And so more time passed.

Now among the baboons of the Great Troop there was one who had always been considered strange by the others, for he would not admit that Way of the Great Baboon was better than any other way of living – no, he had even been known to doubt that the Great Baboon existed, and had been accordingly chastised by the elders of the troop. He was, accordingly, called the Outsider.

Now the Outsider decided that he would go and see what was happening up on the mountain, where the army had been fighting for so long. One night he sneaked out of the valley, and after many adventures finally reached the mountain. And after several more days he arrived back in the valley.

“Come here,” he shouted, climbing on a high rock. “Come here, everybody.” When the baboons had gathered, he fluffed himself up and began:

“I have been up the mountain, and seen for myself the war our army is fighting up there for our freedom and the Way of the Great Baboon. And I shall tell you what I have seen:

“There are no evil baboons up on the mountain. There are only a few baboons there, who had lived their own lives as they pleased and wished to continue living their own lives as they pleased. They never had done us any harm, stolen our fruit or dirtied our oases. They were not our enemies. But our army went up to take their mountain from them, and they are fighting back, for they are wild and fierce, and it is a big mountain. Anyone who tells you otherwise is lying.”

The assembled baboons murmured to themselves, while the elders watched with consternation. Then one of them stepped forward. “If you say the baboons up on the mountain are not to blame for our misfortunes, who is? Can you answer that?”

And the Outsider said, calmly, “It is us who did it to ourselves, living as we never should have, far beyond the capacity of our valley to sustain. It is we, and only we, who are to blame.”

“A heretic!” the elders shrieked in triumph. “A heretic, who blasphemes against the Great Baboon Himself, and slanders His gifts and His purpose. He is certainly in league with the enemy on the mountain. Seize him!” And so it was done.

“We must at once,” said the elders, “search out more heretics, and root them out, before they destroy the Way of the Great Baboon from within, as the enemy is doing from without. We should at once launch an Inquisition, and destroy all the traitors – starting with the Outsider, and all like him, for there must be many.” And so it was done.

And time passed, and still the battle on the mountain was not won.

“There must be evil baboons in the desert on the other side of the mountain,” the elders said, “who are helping the enemy on the heights. We must raise an army to go forth and crush them, so that we preserve the sanctity of the Way.”

And so it was done.

Copyright B Purkayastha 2013