A Story Not Told, A Song Not Sung (India)

There was once a woman who kept all her songs and stories to herself because no was willing to listen to them. All of her memories and longings remained buried deep within. After a time, her stories and songs grew restless—they wanted to be heard. They struggled to come out, but the woman could not share them. Finally, they made their way into her dreams. While she slept, she tossed and turned as the dreams roiled around inside her. She woke up, confused.

“What’s the matter?” asked her husband?
“I don’t know,” she replied.

One morning she was so tired that after her husband left for work she lay down on the kitchen floor and fell sound asleep. Her mouth opened and she began to snore. The stories and songs escaped into the air, hovered above her, watching her sleep.

“We cannot leave her like this,” they said. “What will she do without us?” The stories turned themselves into a robe and hung on a peg by the bedroom door. The songs became slippers and rested underneath. That night when her husband returned from work, he got suspicious. 

“Who was here while I was gone?”
“No one.”
“Who do those slippers and robe belong to?”
“I don’t know,” she said.

They argued. When night fell they were still arguing. Now in that village it is a custom that when a couple disagrees and can’t settle their disputes by the end of the day, the husband spends the night in the Temple of the Monkey King. 

The husband stormed out of the house and went to the temple. He lay down to sleep in one of its darkened rooms. The wife sat at the kitchen table trying to make sense of what had happened. Finally, she blew out the candle, put her head down on the table, and fell asleep.

Each night, in that village, when people put out the candles, the flames go to the Temple of the Monkey King to chatter and discuss the day’s events. As the husband lay on the floor, one by one, the candle flames danced into the darkened room where he slept. They chatted, waiting for all the tongues of flames to arrive. After a while it was clear that one flame was late. “Where is it?” a flame sputtered.

Finally, the last flame showed up. “Where have you been?” they wanted to know.

“My couple had an argument. The husband came home and found a strange robe and slippers by the bedroom door.

“Oh, he must have been angry!” the others exclaimed.

“Yes,” he was, “but it isn’t what he thinks. The woman has stories to tell and songs to sing but no one ever listens. All her life she has kept them locked up inside her. This morning while she slept, they found a way to turn the stories into a robe and the songs into slippers.”

The husband, wakened by the flames, heard what had happened. He immediately left the Temple of the Monkey King and ran back home. In the moonlight, he could see his wife slumped over the kitchen table. He awakened her gently, putting the robe around her shoulders and the slippers on her feet. Then, he sat down beside her, and said, “Tell me your stories. Sing me your songs. I am here. I will listen.”

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July 2024 Monthly Stories