There is this place in our village which is called Bagiya (means garden in English), full of dark dense mango trees and every day there will be villagers coming and going inside out to collect mangoes during summer and for collecting woods during winters. This place is quiet and serene, free from anything that the cities have. I feel it is full of heart and love. I find it really amazing. One day the wind was blowing quietly on a winter afternoon, it was quite cold but the sun was shining bright, fortunately! That day there was a sound in the jungle which seemed like whispers, quite an unusual scene in here. When somebody from the village went inside , it happened to be so quiet that he managed to get near the whispers. And the whisperers were thieves who stopped by to rest for a while. These thieves used to put oil on their bodies and would go hunting at night. Oiling the body will simply make them lubricative so that nobody catches them. It was quite a horror with these ones in the whole area all around.
The guy happened to get back home and informed everybody else in our village and they all called the police only to never find them again.
The jungle, as I call the area, is hiding so many secrets within. There must be plenty of stories which would have gone unheard just because nobody was there to listen.
But I do know for ages to come, I'll always be fascinated by what the trees have to say.