He knew he was a monkey. He ate what monkeys ate, lived among other creatures, and went about his business without worrying too much about who he was. The city was large enough for everyone, and there were more pressing matters than ancestry.
Then, one day, someone told him a story.
“You were not always a monkey. You come from a distinguished lineage. Centuries ago, you were a koala. Then came some outsiders, and you were forced to forget who you really were.”
The monkey was puzzled. He had no memory of ever being a koala, but then, he had never been particularly interested in family history. Others soon joined the conversation. They spoke of ancient glory, lost traditions, and a past stolen from him. They assured him that the time had come to reclaim it.
“But how?” the monkey asked.
“By eating eucalyptus leaves,” they said. “That is what koalas do.”
The monkey looked around. Not a single eucalyptus tree was in sight. He mentioned this small difficulty.
“See how much has been taken from you!” they exclaimed.
He was sceptical at first; soon he was convinced. The monkey began to see his surroundings differently. His old eating habits appeared suspicious. His neighbours, who continued to go about their lives as before, seemed strangely indifferent to their glorious past. Some even dared to suggest that bananas were perfectly good food for monkeys.
The monkey no longer found this amusing. A committee was formed to help him recover his identity. They held meetings, gave speeches, and made elaborate plans to plant eucalyptus trees. Some enterprising creatures began selling eucalyptus leaves at a premium in his neighbourhood. The committee assured everyone this was a small price to pay to restore a lost civilisation.
Not everyone was convinced. A young monkey asked whether it was possible to respect the past without giving up the present. They told him such questions were blasphemous.
Another monkey wondered why the committee members themselves enjoyed eating bananas. They explained that their responsibilities were different. Someone had to guide the transformation. The monkey found himself caught between what he had always known and what he was now expected to believe. It was easier to follow the crowd than to keep asking questions. Besides, it felt good to belong to something better than oneself, especially when that something promised a return to greatness. So he ate his eucalyptus leaves dutifully.
Now and then, he caught sight of his reflection in a mirror. The face looking back was unmistakably his own. He found this a little inconvenient, but the committee assured him that appearances could be deceptive.
One morning, a real koala wandered into the city. It sat on a tree, chewed a eucalyptus leaf, and looked at the ruckus below with curiosity.
The monkey rushed up to it.
“Tell me,” he asked eagerly, “does eating eucalyptus make one a koala?”
The koala considered the question for a while.
“I wouldn’t know,” it said. “I have never tried being anything else. Why do you want to become a koala? Monkeys are so cute and intelligent.” Then it returned to its breakfast; he kept on chewing eucalyptus leaves.
The monkey stood there, holding the eucalyptus leaf. He missed eating bananas. For the first time in a long while, he wondered whether he had been trying to discover who he was, or someone was taking advantage of his uncertainty. He ate a stomach full of bananas and slept well that night.
Photos and text by Prerna Jain.
