(As told by Thatha Raju, while the children sat sprawled on a charpoy under the shade of a mango tree in their courtyard in Badangpet, the air buzzing with the sound of cicadas and the sweet scent of ripe mangoes hanging overhead)
“Come, my little mango saplings,” Thatha Raju began, his voice a low chuckle that seemed to rumble like distant thunder. He idly swung his leg, the movement causing the charpoy to creak gently. “Tonight, I shall tell you a tale of mischief and mangoes, starring a very playful gulli danda and a rather clumsy thief.”
Now, gulli danda, as you all know, is a game we play with a small stick (the gulli) and a larger stick (the danda). You flick the gulli into the air and then hit it as far as you can. It’s a simple game, but oh, how much fun it can be! And sometimes, the gulli itself can have a mischievous mind of its own.
In our very own Badangpet, many years ago, lived a boy named Chinna who was exceptionally good at gulli danda. He could flick the gulli so high it would disappear into the sky for a moment, and then he could hit it with such force that it would travel across the entire field. His gulli, a small, smooth piece of tamarind wood, seemed to have a special bond with him. It would fly exactly where he wanted it to, most of the time.
But this particular gulli also had a bit of a playful streak. Sometimes, it would veer off course unexpectedly, bounce in strange directions, and generally cause a bit of chaos during their games.
Now, around the same time, our village was also plagued by a bit of a mystery – the case of the disappearing mangoes! During the peak of the mango season, when the trees were laden with juicy, ripe fruit, mangoes would mysteriously vanish from people’s yards overnight. One day, a basketful would be there, the next morning, empty! Everyone suspected a thief, but no one had ever seen anyone sneaking around.
One moonlit night, Chinna was playing a quiet game of gulli danda by himself in the open field behind his house. The air was still, and the only sounds were the chirping of crickets and the occasional rustle of leaves. He flicked his gulli high into the air and then gave it a mighty whack with his danda.
But this time, the gulli, in one of its mischievous moods, didn’t fly straight. Instead, it took a sharp, unexpected turn and went soaring over the fence into the yard of old Venkataiah, who had the juiciest mangoes in the entire village.
Chinna sighed. He knew Venkataiah was a bit grumpy and didn’t like anyone near his precious mango trees, especially at night. But his gulli was his favorite, so he carefully climbed over the fence to retrieve it.
As he crept into Venkataiah’s yard, under the silvery moonlight, he saw a shadowy figure near the mango trees. The figure was reaching up, stealthily plucking ripe mangoes and stuffing them into a large sack. It was the mango thief!
Chinna froze, his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to shout, but he was also a little scared. Just then, his mischievous gulli, which had landed near the base of a mango tree, seemed to come to life. Perhaps it sensed the presence of a wrongdoer in its territory.
Suddenly, the gulli, as if flicked by an unseen hand, rolled out from under the tree and bumped right into the leg of the mango thief!
The thief, who was concentrating on his pilfering, yelped in surprise. He stumbled backward, tripped over his own sack of mangoes, and landed with a loud thud, scattering the stolen fruit all over the ground!
The noise startled Venkataiah, who came rushing out of his house, brandishing a sturdy stick. “Who’s there?!” he bellowed.
Chinna, emboldened by the gulli’s unexpected intervention, stepped out from the shadows. “It’s the mango thief, uncle!” he exclaimed, pointing at the clumsy figure sprawled on the ground amidst the fallen mangoes.
Venkataiah, with Chinna’s help, caught the thief, who turned out to be a hungry fellow from a neighboring village. The mystery of the disappearing mangoes was finally solved, all thanks to a mischievous gulli danda and a boy who was just trying to retrieve his favorite playing piece.
Thatha Raju chuckled, a wide grin spreading across his face. “So, my little mango saplings,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “Remember the tale of Chinna, his mischievous gulli, and the clumsy mango thief. It teaches us that sometimes, even the most unexpected things, like a wayward gulli, can play a part in uncovering the truth and catching those who do wrong. And it also reminds us to keep a close eye on our mangoes during the season!” The children giggled, imagining a little wooden gulli tripping up a mango thief in the moonlight, and learned that even games can sometimes lead to unexpected adventures and solutions.
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