Chapter 5: Simha – The Noble One
The fifth night was clear and bright. The moon sat proudly in the sky, round as a shield of silver. The Listening Circle gathered once again beneath the Tree of Timelessness. Tonight, all eyes turned to Simha.
The lion walked in slowly, each step heavy and calm, like the earth itself was moving with him. His mane glowed like dawn around his head. He sat down in the circle and simply looked at his friends. No roar, no display—just steady eyes that made the jungle itself grow quiet.
“Why do you always walk so slowly?” Suka teased, hopping from root to root. “You’re the biggest, you could reach here first!”
Simha gave a small smile. “A lion never hurries. Each step must mean something.”
Mushak squeaked softly. “And when you do hurry?”
Simha’s eyes deepened. “Then the world knows why.”
The others grew still. Paravani folded his feathers neatly, curious. “Tell us then, noble one. What has your Master, the Mother, taught you?”
Simha lowered his head in respect before speaking. His voice was deep, but warm like a fire that gives both light and heat.
“My Master is the Mother Herself—Maa Durga, the strength of the cosmos, the protector of worlds. She rides upon my back when She battles the forces that disturb balance. Through Her, I have learned what it means to lead, to fight, and to protect. Leadership is not about ruling from a throne—it is about standing in front when danger comes.”
Bheema wagged his tail once, listening closely. “And when there is no danger? What does a leader do then?”
“Then,” Simha said, “a leader becomes gentle. He listens. He guides without pride. Power and authority are not ornaments to shine—they are responsibilities. If used wrongly, they crush. If used rightly, they shelter.”
Paravani’s feathers shimmered. “Ah! Shelter like the shade of wings?”
“Yes,” Simha nodded. “To be a great leader, one must be as fierce as fire against wrong, yet as soft as shade for the weak. My Master shows this balance. She fought demons who troubled the innocent, not because She enjoyed war, but because silence would have been worse. She teaches: when you see adharma rise, when the bad trouble the good—do not look away. Do not wait for another. Stand. Fight. Lead from the front.”
Mushak’s whiskers twitched nervously. “But what if we are small, like me? Can even the little ones lead?”
Simha’s mane shook as he nodded firmly. “Yes, Mushak. Leadership is not size. It is courage. Even the smallest voice can roar if it speaks for truth. Even the tiniest paws can lead others to safety. Leadership is not about being above—it is about being with.”
Suka tilted his head, eyes bright. “So, when we see someone hurting others, we mustn’t hide?”
“No,” Simha said. “To hide when the innocent suffer is to join hands with the wrong. A true leader may fear, but he does not let fear decide. He rises, not for himself, but for others.”
The friends sat in silence, each carrying the weight of his words. Even the wind hushed, as though the whole forest was bowing to the lion’s truth.
Then Simha added softly, almost like a lullaby:
“Power is like a thorn. If you hold it carelessly, it wounds. But if you place it rightly, it protects the flower.”
The Tree of Timelessness sighed, its branches rustling like applause. For a moment, the clearing felt like a battlefield and a sanctuary both—the place where courage and compassion met.
Bheema’s voice came low. “If ever we face darkness, I will guard the edges.”
Paravani spread his feathers a little. “And I will fight with grace, remembering your lesson.”
Mushak squeaked bravely. “And I will be small, but I will not run.”
Suka fluttered with a smile. “And I will shout the truth until even the trees hear.”
Simha looked at them all, his eyes glowing proud. “Then none of us are alone. Together, we are the roar of dharma.”
When Simha finished, the silence held for a long time, as though even the stars were listening. Then Suka broke it with a cheerful whistle.
“Well,” he said, hopping in a circle, “I don’t know about you all, but I feel braver already! If any demon comes, I’ll sit right on Simha’s mane and shout orders.”
Paravani chuckled, feathers shaking. “Just don’t get too bossy, little parrot. Even leaders need to listen.”
Mushak squeaked, eyes bright. “And I’ll nibble through the ropes if the bad ones try to tie anyone down!”
Bheema wagged his tail. “And I’ll make sure no shadow crosses our path without my nose catching it first.”
Simha rumbled with gentle laughter. “Then I need not roar often. With such friends, the jungle is already safe.”
They walked to the smooth stone at the root of the Tree of Timelessness, watching their tokens and remembering all the stories and lessons they shared with each other. Only the red berry, token of Suka was left.
The Tree of Timelessness stirred, its leaves trembling with a sound like distant drums.
The friends felt it—the growing nearness of a Presence vast and fierce, tender and eternal. The Primordial, The Adya Mother was coming.
Suka whispered, wide-eyed, “Did you hear that? It was almost like… a heartbeat.”
Paravani nodded slowly. “Yes. The forest is waiting.”
The circle broke gently after that. Mushak scurried into the grass, Paravani glided like a shadow of colors, Bheema sniffed the edges one last time, Suka flew in a playful loop, and Simha was the last to leave, his watchful eyes tracing each friend's departure until he was certain they were safe. Only then did he turn away.
As the clearing emptied, the fireflies rose in a slow spiral around the Tree, weaving tiny patterns of light that almost shaped a face—gentle, fierce, motherly. For a heartbeat, it seemed as though the fireflies themselves were whispering: “She is coming"...
- By prateek bajpai Shisya of Gurudev Shri Praveen Radhakrishnan