【Translation】Elephant Graveyard--Shen Shixi

Thread Content

Deep in the dense forests of Xishuangbanna, there is a mysterious place unknown to most people. There, there’s a huge pit; at its bottom, amidst rain-soaked, blackened leaves and decaying grass, lie the remains of elephants. Their flesh and internal organs had long since rotted away, and the grayish skeletons and countless skulls filled the pit with an atmosphere of death. Only a hundred precious ivory pieces still exhibit a charming luster in the sunlight. It is a place that people cannot discover. This place is the natural grave of the wild elephant herd that lives on Bangga Mountain in Xishuangbanna. Elephant herds strictly adhere to the unique traditions passed down from their ancestors; unless they die suddenly in an accident, they will never perish in the wilderness. As soon as they sense death approaching, no matter how far the journey may be, the older elephants will make their way here to take their final breath. The sacred elephant graveyard is their eternal resting place. 　　In the past, the Elephant King often led the herd to bid farewell to elderly elephants; today, it’s finally his turn. 　　It stood on the precarious cliff at the edge of the pit, raised its long trunk, and let out a mournful roar. There was complete silence in the forest. Behind it, there were over fifty **small elephants**, watching it as they waited to hold a grand funeral for it. It hesitated; it was reluctant to jump into the pit, because it knew it wasn’t dying of natural causes. But no one forced it to come here; it was itself that publicly announced having a premonition of death. It can no longer hesitate; hesitation means fear of death, and that is something worthy of mockery. This is its last chance to demonstrate the heroic and fearless spirit of a king. It raised its two front legs, stepped onto the stone wall in the pit, then slowly tilted its heavy body forward; with a loud crash, it slid to the bottom of the pit. The bottom of the pit was wet and muddy, with a pungent musty smell. It walked to the center of the pit, used its nose to move aside the remains of its ancestors, clearing a space. Then, with a thud, it knelt down facing the direction where the sun rises. 　　At that moment, the funeral began. Tender bamboo shoots, fruits, and toon leaves were thrown into the pit; this was in accordance with ancient rules, as the elephant herd wanted to leave enough food for it to last ten days or half a month. They would not let it die of hunger in that pit, as this food would sustain it until the day of its death. 　　It raised its head, wanting to cast a grateful glance at the herd of elephants it was familiar with. Coincidentally, Lunka appeared at the edge of the pit, carrying a beehive. Their eyes met, and its heart instantly turned cold as ice. If Runka had not brutally seized its throne, it would not have met its death so early. Although it has already lived for sixty years, Asian elephants can live to be eighty years old. It died from anger, died from the agony. Look, pride and satisfaction can be seen in Lonka’s eyes. Having ascended to the throne of the Elephant King at such a young age, it naturally has every reason to be proud. It glared angrily at Lunka, but Lunka paid no attention; it raised its long nose and threw the beehive down in schadenfreude. Yellow honey flowed down its furry face, releasing a pleasant fragrance; it licked it, but tasted only endless bitterness. Scenes from the past flashed before my eyes one after another. 　　The stinky pond is minuscule, nestled among the craggy rocks of the valley; its narrow entrance can only accommodate one elephant at a time to drink. The herd pressed forward to drink water. It let out a majestic roar, and the chaotic herd calmed down, creating a path for them to pass through. As per the rules, the elephant king went in first to drink his fill, followed by the calves and female elephants, with adult male elephants coming last. 　　It exercises its rights and duties as a king with calm composure. Just as it stuck its nose into the water, suddenly, its butt was slapped hard—it burned terribly. It turned around in surprise to see Lunka, glaring at it with its long fangs. It knew that this act of provocation marked the beginning of yet another struggle for the throne. 　　It exhaled a puff of air and then ran after Lunka to an open area. 　　The herd rushed into the woods nearby, and the baby elephant, frightened, hid under its mother’s belly. 　　Inside, it felt a mix of indignation and sorrow. It is not surprised by the struggle for the throne; the throne in the herd is not fixed – it’s survival of the fittest, and those with sharp minds and strong bodies can compete for it. Itzpu has been on the throne for over twenty years, having gone through many challenges and defeated one rival after another for the throne. In the past, when it duelled with its rivals, it felt only anger; now it is sad because it never expected that Lunka would take the initiative to challenge it. Among all the young male elephants, it likes Lunka the most; Lunka is its father, and it has a special affection for him. 　　More than twenty years ago, it was he who personally delivered little Lonka from his mother elephant Baya’s body. Tsipu doted on Lonka, not only because he was his own son, but also for an important reason: he had a special fondness for Baya. Baya is its faithful companion. 　　According to the rules governing elephant herd life, male elephants are driven away at around the age of twenty, forced to roam the wilderness and fend for themselves. Lonka had long since grown up; its sturdy body and pointed tusks posed a threat to Itzpu. But Tzipu couldn’t bear to drive it away. It couldn’t bear to make Baya sad. He adores Lonca; he always keeps it by his side, treating it as his reliable assistant. 　　It’s too kind; in a world of animals where the strong prey on the weak, kindness is punished. Now, it regrets it. But regret is of no use; it faces challenges and has only two choices: either flee and give up the throne on its own ； Or fight to the death. Itzpu still has confidence in himself. It knows Lunka’s weaknesses and is reckless, eager to win. Although Itzipu was old, and its sharp tusks had long been worn down during countless battles to protect the elephants, it still felt confident in dealing with Lonka. 　　As expected, Runka lost patience and launched an attack first; it jumped around, using its sharp fangs to stab at Tsep’s chest. 　　It avoided it. Thinking that its opponent was timid, Longka intensified its attack, stabbing with its long fangs, snorting repeatedly, and letting out fierce roars. Lunka wasted a great deal of energy uselessly. 　　It simply kept yielding and did not fight back. 　　Lunka was finally tired; it stood on the grass, panting. And Itzpu understood: it must not be given a chance to regain its strength! It took a leap forward, suddenly swung its long nose and slammed it hard against Runka, before leaping away again. Now, Lunka was enraged, with a murderous look in his eyes, and he charged at him again frantically. 　　After all, it was old; its movements were not as agile as they used to be. On a few occasions it reacted too slowly, and Lunka’s sharp fangs tore through its jaw and neck, causing blood to splash onto the grass. It still made no counterattacks, waiting for Lonca to exhaust its energy. 　　This fierce battle lasted from dawn until sunset. Lonca’s attacks grew slower and slower, and his steps became unsteady. 　　The herd was scattered among the trees around, quietly watching this struggle for the throne. 　　It was time. When Lunka charged at it again with its long tusks, Tsepu no longer tried to avoid it. It suddenly turned around and jumped behind Lunka. Before Lunka could turn around, Tsepu’s old ivory tusk was already pressed against its abdomen; the tip of the tusk was filled with anger and sorrow as it touched Lunka’s sweaty skin. At that very moment, it saw Baya’s resentful gaze, but its desire to preserve its throne prevented it from caring about anything else; it continued to thrust its head forward and stab fiercely at Runka’s soft abdomen. Its fangs had just pierced Lunka’s skin when, suddenly, it was hit hard from behind; it wasn’t prepared for that at all. Its legs wobbled, and it took a few unsteady steps; Lunka took the opportunity to escape from in front of its sharp teeth. 　　Who dared to oppose it and help Longka escape by sheer luck? It flew into a rage, turned to look, and was instantly struck as if by lightning, its whole body going numb. 　　It was Baya who hit it! 　　It couldn’t believe that it was its beloved Baya who was helping Lunka fight against it. I remember that over thirty years ago, when it was still a stray with its head chased away by the elephant herd, the young Baya would often sneak out of the herd in the dead of night to meet up with it, and they fell deeply in love with each other. In order to get Baya, the young Tzepu returned to the herd and openly challenged the old elephant king. During the struggle, Baya promptly helped it defeat the old elephant king, enabling it to ascend the throne. Now, Baya, for her son’s sake, dealt it a heavy blow. Just as it was reflecting on the past, Lunka turned around again and dealt it a fatal blow! Its chest flesh was torn apart, and plasma splashed everywhere! It didn’t even glance at Lonka; it just stared blankly at Baya, then collapsed to the ground... The elephants all cried out in unison—they now had a new elephant king: Lonka. 　　It knelt in the pit, recalling the past, filled with unbearable sorrow. The food in the deep pit has piled up to a thickness of two feet. With a proud roar, Longka made the herd immediately form a long line and circle around the deep pit. They are holding its final funeral ceremony. The herd’s roars continued for several minutes, after which they retreated back in line. All the other elephants had left, but Baya still stood on the cliff, silently gazing at it, tears streaming from her eyes in continuous streams. It looked up at it, feeling a very complex range of emotions. Love… it’s gone ； Hate, and it’s quite reluctant. 　　At that moment, Lunka, along with the herd of elephants, had left the valley. Lunka returned to the deep pit, surrounded Baya, and kept making anxious humming sounds to urge her to leave quickly. 　　Baya still stood silently on the cliff. 　　It shook its head angrily, growled twice; it also wanted Baya to leave quickly, as seeing Baya caused it pain. It spent thirty wonderful years with Baya. Once, in an attempt to save the trapped Baya, its left tusk was accidentally broken. If his teeth had remained intact, then today he would by no means have knelt in the elephant tomb; he would surely have pierced Longka’s belly and secured the throne. 　　All regret is equal to zero. 　　Lunka pushed Baya with his body, forcing her to move away from the deep pit. Bayah struggled and cried out, but in the end she was unable to overcome Lunka and stepped back step by step. 　　Baya, why did you help Runka defeat me? And why are you sad now? 　　Why? Why? It closed its eyes and began once again to relive those painful memories. 　　In the duel, it fell to the grass, with blood flowing continuously. Suddenly, a stream drifted down from the clouds; its sweet water flowed into its mouth, and immediately the pain from the wound diminished greatly, and its dizzy head became clear again. It opened its eyes; Baya was feeding it water drawn up with her nose. 　　Lunka’s long fang did not hit a vital spot, and it lived again. It came to its senses; it wanted to pierce Baya through the heart with its long fangs. But due to excessive blood loss, it was too weak to stand. 　　Half a month in total ； Bayaa guarded it closely, feeding it water and food, and applying medicine to its wounds. Under Baya’s careful care, after half a month its wound had healed, and it was finally able to stand up and follow the herd, wobbling along. It was no longer an emperor; it had become an old, disabled beggar. No one surrounded it as they used to; only Baya continued to follow it silently, fanning it to keep it cool and repelling mosquitoes, staying by its side at all times. The more Baya acted like that, the angrier Tsepu became. If it weren’t for this female elephant causing trouble, could Tsepu have ended up in this situation today? One day, Ci Pu finally could hold back no longer. While Baya was scratching it with a bamboo stalk, it suddenly stuck out its long fangs and pressed Baya against a tree; its fangs were pressed against Baya’s heart. It could hear Baya’s heart beating loudly, and it thought that Baya must be trying to call for help. But strangely, Baya neither cried out nor struggled, allowing it to do as it pleased. It hesitated; it couldn’t bring itself to pierce Baya’s heart. There was no fear, no condemnation, and no sorrow in Baya’s gaze – she appeared calm, as if encouraging it: Go ahead and stab me. I am willing to die at your feet. 　　Its heart softened, and the courage for revenge melted away. It loves Baya! It couldn’t bring itself to kill it. It sighed, stepped back, and let Baya go. It thought that this time, Baya would surely leave its fierce old husband elephant. Yet it was wrong again; once Baya stabilized herself, she continued to roll up the bamboo and gently scratched it, with a soft \"swish-swish\" sound, so carefully and delicately. The next day, exhausted, it finally sensed death approaching. 　　Crouched in the deep pit, it gazed at the starry sky and recalled the past. Its heart is filled with endless sorrow. A few vultures were circling above its head, trying to take advantage of the situation to pierce its skin with their sharp beaks. It has been squatting here in Cizpu for two days and two nights. It doesn’t know when death will come. Perhaps the elephant herd is having a feast in the banana grove right now; they have long forgotten it. Baya will also forget it. Many years later, when the elephant herd returned to bury another old elephant, it had turned into a pile of bones – could Baya still weep over that pile of bones? The more it thought about it, the more desolate it felt; looking at all the food around it, it didn’t want to eat a single bite and only wished to die soon. 　　Day broke again; the woods were filled with thick, wet mist. Small animals were jumping around on the branches. All of this had nothing to do with it. It remained in its pit, in a daze, counting the tiny droplets hanging on the golden bamboo in front of it, slowly passing the time. 　　Suddenly, strange noises came from the edge of the pit – it was the footsteps of another creature! The morning breeze brought with it a familiar scent – so pleasant and sweet. There was no doubt about it: it was the unique fragrance emanating from Baya’s body, a scent that had accompanied her for decades. 　　It sniffed greedily, barking eagerly. 　　Bayaa ran to the edge of the pit, stepped onto the cliff, and slid down to the bottom of the pit without stopping! It was too late for Czipu to try and stop it. Baya still has a long life ahead of her; she can live another ten or twenty years at least! It sneaked away from the herd! 　　Baya stepped through the mud, approaching it step by step. In just two months, Baya appeared significantly older and thinner; her once plump and elastic long nose was now covered with deep wrinkles, and her eyes, once like pools of autumn water, had turned grayish. She cried so much! 　　Baya approached it, Tsupu, and knelt down with a thud; her warm body pressed tightly against it, and it could hear Baya’s healthy heart beating strongly. 　　The sun stretched out thousands of golden hands to tear apart the morning mist. Soft beams of sunlight streamed into the bottom of the pit, melting the ice blocks that had accumulated in its heart; the two long noses remained entwined for a long time. 　　A few vultures continued to circle in the air, their black wings flapping, casting a huge shadow of death above them.