A Jungle Tale

This is the first story I will tell, and it is about a woman who came to my lands. It begins where the rivers carve through the jungle, where the canopy shields us from time itself. My world is a tangle of roots and branches, the earth breathing its damp air while the sky breaks through in fragmented beams. This is where she finds me, her eyes wide with wonder, her spirit like a bird tasting freedom for the first time.

She seems hesitant yet drawn by the jungle’s pulse. Her gaze carries both awe and an unspoken longing, as though the jungle stirs something inside her. The dawn hums softly around us, the air alive with the secrets of a world too quiet for the rush she has left behind.

I steer the long-tail boat away from the riverbank, through the stillness. The faint shimmer of the water mirrors the blush of the waking sky, broken only by fishing nets. Dipterocarp trees rise like guardians, their bark whispering secrets of life, sheltering the life that unfolds beneath them. Here and there the banyan roots twist into bridges and knot themselves at the edge of the water. She watches it all, her silence brimming, as though the jungle has begun to speak directly to her.

The sun has just risen as we glide into the vibrant green hues, Thale Noi, covered by hyacinths and duckweed. The marshlands stretch around us, where buffaloes bathe in the golden glow. They seem to exist in a space untouched by time, with only the gentle ripples of the water as their companions.

The boat slices deeper into Thale Noi’s embrace. Birds are in constant motion. Green-billed malkohas flit through the dense foliage. High above, swallows arc in graceful loops, while the melodious calls of bulbuls and barbets echo softly in her eyes, drawing her pupils upward. She moves alongside the tiny spiderhunters, their swift, almost invisible movements through the foliage, blending with the rhythm of the jungle as the malkohas move farther away. She follows their flight in tune with the wild.

I drive, a bit faster, through the pink lotus gardens, their petals open wide to the sky, glistening with dew. I pluck a lotus and break it open. She tastes its soft heart, savouring its subtle sweetness. The atmosphere feels so surreal, as though we’ve crossed into the unknown.

Asian openbill storks wade gracefully in the shallows, while herons stand statuesque amidst pinkness. An Asian paradise flycatcher appears briefly, its long tail feathers trailing like a ribbon of white light. On the shore of the islet, egrets and cormorants gather in search of fish, their movements rippling across the glassy water. From the shadows of a tree, a barred eagle-owl watches, its piercing gaze unflinching. It feels as though the entire landscape has been laid bare.

We move further into the jungle, manoeuvring through narrow tunnels where the gnarled roots of mangroves twist into natural barriers. The air thickens, infused with the scents of saltwater and the earthy tang. Above, the canopy softens the sunlight into ethereal. She is struck by the sense of timeless existence in the purest form, untouched by the outer.

We reach to Nan Sawan waterfall. Here, the falls tumble down in seven tiers. Dragonflies, in pink and purple, flit around us, and she watches them with a quiet laughter. Without a word, we step into the coolness of the water. On a sun-warmed rock, we share a kiss in a moment suspended as much as it's etched into my very being. The jungle leans in.

We stroll beneath pomelo gardens, where the fruits hang like treasures from the trees. She gasps in surprise at their size, almost too large to hold. From here, we walk along bamboo paths that lead us to another river, each step bringing us closer to a sense of purity. Later, we continue our path through limestones to the Khao Dang Cave Temple, where jagged cliffs rise above us, softened by ferns and moss. Inside, the Big Buddha waits in quiet reverence, bathed in flickering candlelight. She stands in silence.

As evening falls, we join the Loy Krathong Festival by the river. Lanterns float on the water. She releases her wish, and I watch it drift away, in a shared moment of hope. The river flows gently, its surface mirroring the full moon, as if it os carrying her dreams into the next phase.

In the darkness, we return to the wood house I built, surrounded by palms and bamboos. The house, nestled deep in this tropical jungle, feels like an extension of the jungle itself. Its walls breathe with the rhythms of the world outside, the soft hum of nocturnal life through the night.

In this sanctuary, I hold her close. Here, within the stillness, I feel the power of her spirit mirrored in the wildness. Intimacy becomes a sacred energy, as natural and raw as the land itself.