रररगबबदरी४८रिीहगवुुका

Answer:

YOU may not believe this story. But I can tell you it is true,

because I have been to Pambupatti, a village on the edge of

the jungle. It is on a cliff, and the vast forest stretches below

like a mossy green carpet. There are many kinds of people in

the village — dark, fair, tall, short. They speak many

languages. Some eat meat, some don’t. Some pray in a small

temple at the edge of the forest. Others pray in a mosque

some miles away.

My name is Prem and I live many hundred miles away

from Pambupatti. I had heard about the village, but I’d never

been there. Then last year, something terrible happened. The

people of my own village went mad. Far, far away in a place

they have never even been to, a temple or mosque had been

burnt down, and they went mad. They started fighting with

one another. Some had to run away in the middle of the night.

And at three in the morning, as I lay in my house, half awake

to the sounds of hate and violence, there was a fire. Many

houses were burnt down in the fire. One of them was mine.

I managed to grab a few clothes, some coins, my little

Ganesh statue, and I ran! I ran for a day and a night, resting

whenever my legs would not carry me any further. I jumped

on to a train, then on a bus. No tickets. Never mind,

Explanation:

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