Once upon a time, in the lush jungles of southern India, there was a village named Kandhala. The village thrived on farming, hunting, and living harmoniously with nature. It was surrounded by dense forests that were home to a wide variety of animals, but none was more respected—and feared—than the elephants.Among these elephants was a mighty tusker named Ranga. Ranga was not like other elephants. He was larger, more powerful, and known for his fierce temper. His tusks were long and curved, making him a magnificent yet intimidating figure. While most elephants were peaceful and interacted with humans only when necessary, Ranga seemed to hold a grudge. The village elders whispered that he had once been separated from his herd by hunters, and since then, he harbored a deep anger toward anyone who dared cross his path.For years, Ranga roamed the forests, keeping his distance from the village. But one hot summer, the rains failed to arrive on time. The rivers dried up, and food in the jungle became scarce. The elephants, usually able to find food and water deep in the forest, started venturing closer to human settlements. Ranga, driven by hunger and thirst, began raiding the villagers' crops. At first, the villagers tried to scare him away by beating drums and lighting torches. But Ranga was not easily deterred. Each night, he would return, destroying more and more of the crops. His anger seemed to grow with each passing raid. He would uproot entire banana trees, trample rice fields, and tear apart huts that stood in his way.One fateful evening, as the sun was setting and the villagers were preparing for the night, Ranga stormed into Kandhala with a fury no one had ever seen before. His eyes glowed red, and his massive trunk swung wildly, smashing anything within reach. He knocked over carts, shattered fences, and crushed the village well. The air was thick with dust, and the ground shook with every step he took.The villagers were terrified. They had seen rogue elephants before, but nothing like this. Ranga was not just hungry—he was out for revenge. The village chief, a wise old man named Ganeshan, knew that this wasn’t just about food anymore. "Ranga is mad with anger," he said to the gathered villagers. "If we don't act quickly, he will destroy everything we have."Ganeshan decided they had to find a way to stop Ranga before the village was completely ruined. But they couldn’t just kill him—Ranga was sacred to the forest and, in many ways, represented the power of nature itself. Instead, they had to calm him, to make him see that the village meant no harm.One young man, Arun, known for his bravery and knowledge of the jungle, stepped forward. "I’ll go," he said. "I know where Ranga’s old herd used to roam. Maybe if we lead him back to the place where he once lived in peace, he will stop his attacks."The villagers were hesitant. Arun was brave, but this was a dangerous mission. Yet, with little choice, they agreed. Armed only with a torch and a handful of salt—an offering often made to elephants to show respect—Arun set out into the forest.The jungle at night was alive with sounds, but there was an eerie stillness in the air as Arun approached Ranga’s latest path of destruction. He found the giant tusker standing near the remains of a half-destroyed granary, breathing heavily. His tusks glistened in the moonlight, and his eyes were still burning with rage.Summoning all his courage, Arun approached slowly, holding out the salt in his open palm. "Ranga," he whispered, "this is not your home. Let me show you where you belong."For a moment, it seemed like Ranga would charge, his massive frame tense with fury. But then, something in Arun’s calm voice reached him. The elephant paused, his ears twitching, as if listening to a distant sound. Slowly, cautiously, Arun began to walk, leading the way into the deeper parts of the forest. Ranga followed, his great form moving silently behind the young man.Arun led him to the heart of the jungle, to a hidden grove that had once been the grazing ground for Ranga’s herd. It was a peaceful place, untouched by human hands, with a small stream flowing gently through the trees. Ranga stopped at the edge of the grove, his massive trunk sniffing the air. His rage seemed to melt away as he took in the familiar scents of the old forest.For the first time in years, Ranga was home.Arun watched as the elephant wandered deeper into the grove, his massive body swaying gently as he moved. There was no more anger in his steps, only a sense of calm. He had found peace again.The next morning, when Arun returned to the village, the people were relieved to see him alive. They gathered around as he told the story of how he had led Ranga back to his rightful home. The villagers knew that the forest was still wild, and that Ranga might one day return. But for now, the village was safe, and they had learned to respect the power of nature even more.From that day on, the villagers never spoke of Ranga with fear again. Instead, they honored him as the guardian of the jungle—a reminder that the wild, though fierce and untamed, could also be calmed by respect and understanding.
