You may not believe this story. But I can tell you it is true， because I have been to Pambupatti， the village of the snakes. Pambupatti is in a jungle so thick， so dark， that you would think no one can ever walk through it. Fallen trees and branches block the road. Vines and creepers which cruel， hooked thorns spring at you， scratching your arms and legs. A few minutes of ducking and dodging， and you are ready to turn back. Enough！ Let the lizards and snakes and eagles keep their jungle. We humans have better places to go to！ Actually， Pambupatti is on the edge of the jungle. It is on a cliff， and the vast forest stretches below like a mossy green carpet. Eagles float on the air above， peering between the treetops for a rat or a snake to pounce on. Sometimes there in an ear-splitting crash， as if a giant has put his foot on a tree and crushed it. Elephants， maybe. Or bison. But no one in Pambupatti is frightened of these sounds.
There are many kinds of people in the village - dark， fair， tall， short. They speak many languages. Some eat meat， some don't. Some pray in a small temple at the edge of the forest. Others pray in a mosque some miles away. Some worship one god， others many. But they all live happily， oh so happily together！
My name is Prem and I live many hundred miles away from Pambupatti. I had heard about the village， but I'd never been there - it was a long journey by train， bus and bullock cart. Then last year， something terrible happened. The people of my own village went mad. Far， far away， in a place they have never even been to， a temple or mosque had been burnt down， and they went mad. They started fighting with one another. Some had to run away in the middle of the night. And at three in the morning， as I lay in my house， half-awake to the sounds of hate and violence， there was a fire. Many houses were burnt down in the fire. One of them was mine.
I managed to grab a few clothes， some coins， my little Ganesh statue， and I ran. How I ran！ I ran for a day and a night， resting whenever my legs could not carry me any further. I jumped on to a train， then on a bus. No tickets. Never mind， everyone seemed to be running. Finally I found myself in Pambupatti， and I saw some villagers gathered near a well. I ran to them， and before I could say a thing， I fainted.
When I opened my eyes， I saw an old man with white hair， white beard and shining black eyes bending over me. For the next few days he looked after me， putting food in my mouth and bringing me sweet， cool water from the stream. He rubbed my feet gently and made the pain go away. Neighbours， strangers - everyone came to visit me.
“Tell me， Grandfather，” I said to him one day. “I have never seen people like the villagers here！ In my village people fight with those who pray to another god. But here - this seems a very strange place！”
“Prem，” replied the old man， “I will tell you the story of Pambupatti. You can take this story back to your village - maybe it will heal some its wounds， and dry some of its sores.”
“Oh Grandfather，” I said anxiously， “don't say that. What I have seen in my village makes me burn with shame. I never， never want to go back there”。
“But that's exactly why you must go back，” he said in a soft voice. I kept quite. I didn't want to argue with him， and I wanted to hear his story.
“It happened a long， long time ago，” he began. “So long ago that there were no schools and no teachers. Children lived in caves with their parents and helped them to collect fruit and berries from the forest.”
“At that time there were no tigers or panthers or elephants in Pambupatti forest. There were only reptiles， many many kinds of reptiles. Now you know what reptiles are. Snakes， crocodiles， turtles， lizards. And you know that a reptile has scales on its body and it lays eggs. Well， most do anyway. There are always exceptions in nature. For instance， we can't even say that birds are creatures that fly！ Because some， like the . . . well， never mind.
“Every month， the reptiles of Pambupatti had a big meeting. Everyone came - the pretty， excited snakes， the slow， thoughtful tortoises， the clever， quick lizards， and the moody crocodiles， grumpy because they were out of water. The president of these meetings was Makara， the biggest crocodile of the forest. People say he was twenty five feet long， through we can't be sure of that. But we know that all the animals though he was very important. When someone is strong and powerful， you know， it is difficult not to go along with what he says or does.
“Now one day a strange thing happened. It was a week before one of the monthly meetings. Makara sent a letter to the tortoises， asking them not to come to the meeting. Ahisthay， the big old star tortoises with black and yellow pictures on his shell， was very angry.
“ 'What does this mean？' he shouted. 'How dare they！' But not one of the tortoises has the courage to attend the meeting - they were so few， the others so many！
“Before the meeting， the giant Makara polished his teeth with the red flowers of the tree by the river till they sparkled. Everyone was waiting for him at the meeting place.
“ 'Brothers and sisters，' he began. All the replies， even the beautiful king cobras， stopped talking. Makara continued his speech. ”I have decided that we don't need the tortoises！ I have told them not to come today. Brothers and sisters， can you tell me why we don't like the tortoises？'
“The reptiles looked this way and that. They felt very uncomfortable. The snakes hissed anxiously， the lizards wriggled their tails， the crocodiles open their jaws even wider.
“ 'But . . .' said one little lizard.
“ ' No BUTS！' shouted Makara. There was silence.
“ 'I think . . .' said a baby crocodile.
“ 'No I THINKS！' screamed Makara， so loudly that the fruit in the tree above him rained down. After that， no one had the courage to speak.
“Makara cleared his throat and showed a few more teeth. 'Well，' he said， 'I will tell you why we don't like the tortoises. They are so slow！ So stupid！ They even carry their houses on their backs - whoever heard of such a stupid thing？ Now you lizards， you live in trees. Would you ever carry a TREE on your back？ Would you？'
“Small， frightened voices answered. No， we wouldn't. But . . .'
“ 'No BUTS！ Now listen. I have told the tortoises that they will have to move out of Pambupatti. When they go， we will have more of everything. More food， more water， more space. I want them out by tomorrow. But because they are such slowcoaches， I have given them one week. But next Tuesday we won't have a single tortoise left in this jungle！'
“And by next Tuesday， they were all gone. At first the animals were sad， but then they realize that what Makara had said was true. There was more food， more water and more space for them！
“But soon a strange smell began to fill the forest. It was the small of rot. There was rotting fruit on the ground， there were rotting animals in the river. This was what the tortoises used to eat. And even Makara had to go about holding his nose with his great big claws.
“A month passed by . . . and then the same thing happened all over again. But this time， it was the snakes. Makara write them one of his letters. They were to leave the forest， and since they could move fast， they had to go in a day！
“Naga， the head of the snakes， pleaded for more time， but Makara would not give in. At the meeting he silenced the others - the lizards and crocodiles - with even louder shouts and threats. 'Snakes are slimy，' he said， 'and long， and they make funny noises. Who wants such weird creatures around？' Again， no one dared to disagree with Makara， and so the snakes left.
“For a while the animals of the forest were happy because they had been a little afraid of the snakes. You never knew when one of them might lose his temper and spit some venom at you！ And it took only a little position to kill you， after all.
“A few weeks passed and the animals of the forest looked tired and fed up. THE RATS！ Now that there were no snakes to eat them， the rats had taken over the forest. And the were having a wonderful time. They were everywhere， on the trees， in the grass， in the bushes， on the ground. They are up the eggs of the lizards and crocodiles. There would be no babies that year. Makara's own nest of eggs had been chewed up.
“Then Makara had a great idea. He called a meeting of the crocodiles and said， 'Wouldn't it be wonderful if we - the crocodiles - could have the WHOLE jungle for ourselves？ No one but us？ These lizards， now， just look at them！ They have the strangest habits， and some of them even change color！ How can we trust someone who is green one minute， red the next？ And they change color so often it's difficult to even spot them. Let's get rid of them.'
“By now the crocodiles were really scared of Makara . . . they had got into the habit of believing everything he said. So they clapped and shouted 'Hurray！ Hurray！' Makara was pleased. The lizards left the forest， some of them carrying their eggs and babies on their backs.
“But now， when life should have been wonderful for the crocodiles of Pambupatti， all kinds of awful things began to happen. It was as if a madman had come to the forest， and was turning everything upside down. To begin with， the rats grew bolder by the day. They became so fearless that they jumped and turned somersaults on the crocodiles' back！ And there were too many frogs - they seemed to be growing larger， and there was no one to eat them but the crocodiles. These huge frogs began to eat the baby crocodiles. And the insects！ Now that the lizards were gone， there were millions of them， growing bigger and nastier by the day.
“It was a terrible time for the crocodiles. They couldn't understand what had happened to their happy forest home. Until one day， a squeaky little voice piped up at one of their meetings： 'We know why the forest has gone crazy， don't we？'
“Suddenly every one was silent. They looked at Makara fearfully， but to their surprise he looked nervous. He shook a pesky rat off his tail and asked the small crocodile， 'Why little fellow？'
“ 'It all began with the tort . . .'
“ 'Okay， okay，' said Makara. 'There's no need to talk so much.' Makara didn't want to admit he was wrong， but it didn't matter. All the crocodiles knew now that he was not all that strong or powerful. Or always right. They sent urgent messages all over the place - for the tortoises， snakes and lizards to come back to Pambupatti. And what a great day it was when these creatures came back， family after family， with their little ones on their backs or straggling behind， shouting at their parents to wait for them！
“In two months， the forest was back to normal. The rats disappeared， and the insects， and the small， and the world finally went back to its familiar old self.”
I shook my head. “No， Grandfather， I was just thinking. That maybe it's time I went back to my own village， because I have a story to tell them. But what if they don't listen to me？”
“We can only keep at it， my son， tell these stories again and again， to more and more people. Some of them may laugh at you or say your stories are not true. But they may remember them one day， and understand that each of us has a place in this strange， funny world of ours.”