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The Tiny Giant of the Kokapo Marsh

A story for the young readers

Being a female in this man-dominated world has been difficult. And my difficulties were

compounded when I chose to become an engineer. Despite the hardships, I managed to become one, and here I was, in a god forbidden country full of thorny bushes, snakes andcrocs in the marsh that spread in front of me. My assignment was to build a bridge over 

this marsh that would make life easier for villagers living in the Kakapo village. This

marsh had been a boon as well as a bane for the poor village of Kakapo. The marsh was

lush with reeds and plants and teemed with fishes that provided food and livelihood to the poor inhabitants of this far-flung village. For almost 150 miles there was no other 

settlement. The dusty road that connected this village to the outside world was

intercepted by this marsh, which was full of crocs. Several people had vanished whileattempting to cross the "wicked marsh". People were superstitious about the marsh and

 believed that the ‘Giant’ of the marsh kills villagers when they venture to cross it. I heard

this and laughed at it. And, here I was, determined and enthusiastic to help these peopleand lessen their hardships.

My first day in the village gave me a mixed feeling. Villagers were perhaps happy to

have me there there but they were also uneasy about something. The very next day I

came to learn about the cause of their concern. My briefcase, in which I had kept my

documents, maps and a pistol, went missing from my tent. My enquiries yielded nothing.By then, villagers had gathered in groups and heated discussions ensued; I felt as if I

were in a fish market. I was confused and angry at the loss. One of the older persons was

keenly examining the ground outside my tent. He came near me and whispered - ‘it is the

giant’. I couldn't understand a thing. I went to the spot where he had been examining theground and then I saw huge footprints, apparently of an extraordinarily huge person. All

the people who had gathered seemed shocked; fear was all over their faces. I, too, felt acold shiver going down my spines, but only for a moment. I recollected my senses and

decided to get to the bottom of the mystery. I had also made up my mind to recover my

lost documents and especially my pistol for I was worried that it might reach wrong

hands and that would be dangerous.

I decided to follow the footprints. Some of the young men agreed to come along . We

followed the footprints for almost half a mile and then the footprints vanished. Only afurlong away from the marsh under a huge banyan tree, the footprints had suddenly

disappeared. I was at a loss, so were my companions on this blind trail. I looked up, but Icould see nothing in the tree as thick foliage obstructed visibility. Suddenly a thoughtcrossed my mind; I became eager to explore the tree. I asked one of the village folks to

climb the tree. He backed out. Then I decided to do it myself. My tom- boyish childhood

had made me an adventurer, so here was a challenge and I was ready to hold it by thehorn and bring it down from up the tree what ever it was. I threw my boots away and

shinned up the tree in the native style.

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I could find nothing till my eyes caught a piece of cloth dangling through the top

 branches. I climbed further up and then I saw the ‘giant.’ and I couldn't help laughing

loudly at this sight for the so-called giant was a tiny little village boy not more thantwelve years old. He had my briefcase tied to his waist with a piece of rope and in his one

hand was a wooden frame cut out in the shape of a big human foot. The boy was startled

to see me; he began to climb further up. Worried about his safety, I decided to climbdown. I came down laughing; every one was bowled over when I told them about my

find. I asked the son of the village headman, to climb up and coax the boy down.

When the boy came down a story of pettiness and hatred was unfolded before me in all

its griminess. The boy was the son of a villager named Pondu, who had rivalry with the

village headman. In order to give a hard time to the headman and his supporters in the

village he had created this myth of this giant inhabiting the marsh. In this heinous design,this mad villager included his innocent child. All the killings by the crocs were attributed

to the giant as Pondu used to instruct the boy to make footprints marks around the marsh

to mislead villagers.

Pondu was exposed, he was produced before the village council, and despite his repeated

apologies he was banished from the village. Village folks became my friends and withtheir help I built the bridge in six months. There was no fear of the giant or the crocs

now as nobody walked through the marsh. They walked over it.

@Suhas Kumar