“Ever since the dawn of man, India has gained countless of legendary tales. Tales that we are to be a part of. Especially you, Mowgli, my boy. Especially you. You know where you belong. But, don’t know where you came from. I don’t know for sure of your origins, myself. However, I have a story of my own. One that I cannot help but make a connection. I should have told you this when you first came to our lives two years ago. Yet, that would have been too much to take in with so little time.
Eleven years ago, our people would often go into the jungle for strong wood, savory meat and sweet fruits. I was in charge of the cutters as my brother, Buldeo, lead the hunters. Messua would often have the women of the village pick the mangos and berries. However, she would leave that to another maiden for the time. For she was more focused on our only child at the time. A son whom we had named ‘Nathoo’. Messua and I were fortunate to have him. A