NCERT Textbook: Chapter 9 - What Happened to the Reptiles, English, Class 6 Class 6 Notes | EduRev

 Page 1


• Pambupatti is a peaceful village, inhabited by a variety of people.
• Prem, the narrator of the story, flees his village under unfortunate
conditions to reach Pambupatti by chance.
• An old resident of the village looks after him and tells him an
interesting story.
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, everyone
2020-21
Page 2


• Pambupatti is a peaceful village, inhabited by a variety of people.
• Prem, the narrator of the story, flees his village under unfortunate
conditions to reach Pambupatti by chance.
• An old resident of the village looks after him and tells him an
interesting story.
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, everyone
2020-21
34/A Pact with the Sun
seemed to be running. Finally, I found myself in Pambupatti,
and I saw some villagers gathered near a well. I ran to them,
and before I could say a thing, I fainted.
When I opened my eyes, I saw  an old man with white hair,
white beard and shining black eyes bending over me. For the
next few days, he looked after me, putting food in my mouth
and bringing me sweet, cool water from the stream. He rubbed
my feet gently and made the pain go away. Neighbours,
strangers — everyone came to visit me.
“Tell me, Grandfather”, I said to him one day. “I have never
seen people like the villagers here! In my village, people fight
with those who pray to another god. But here ... this seems a
very strange place!”
“Prem,” replied the old man, “I will tell you the story of
Pambupatti. You can take this story back to your village.
Maybe it will heal some of its wounds, and dry some of its sores.”
2020-21
Page 3


• Pambupatti is a peaceful village, inhabited by a variety of people.
• Prem, the narrator of the story, flees his village under unfortunate
conditions to reach Pambupatti by chance.
• An old resident of the village looks after him and tells him an
interesting story.
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, everyone
2020-21
34/A Pact with the Sun
seemed to be running. Finally, I found myself in Pambupatti,
and I saw some villagers gathered near a well. I ran to them,
and before I could say a thing, I fainted.
When I opened my eyes, I saw  an old man with white hair,
white beard and shining black eyes bending over me. For the
next few days, he looked after me, putting food in my mouth
and bringing me sweet, cool water from the stream. He rubbed
my feet gently and made the pain go away. Neighbours,
strangers — everyone came to visit me.
“Tell me, Grandfather”, I said to him one day. “I have never
seen people like the villagers here! In my village, people fight
with those who pray to another god. But here ... this seems a
very strange place!”
“Prem,” replied the old man, “I will tell you the story of
Pambupatti. You can take this story back to your village.
Maybe it will heal some of its wounds, and dry some of its sores.”
2020-21
“Oh, Grandfather,” I said anxiously, “don’t say that. What
I have seen in my village makes me burn with shame. I never,
never want to go back there.”
“But that’s exactly why you must go back,” he said, in a
soft voice. I kept quiet. I didn’t want to argue with him, and I
wanted to hear his story.
It happened a long, long time ago, he began. So long ago
that there were no schools and no teachers. Children lived in
caves with their parents and helped them to collect fruit and
berries from the forest. At that time, there were no tigers or
panthers or elephants in
Pambupatti forest. There
were only reptiles, many
kinds of reptiles. Now you
know what reptiles are.
Snakes, crocodiles,
turtles, lizards. And you
know that a reptile has
scales on its body and it
lays eggs. Every month,
the reptiles of Pambupatti
had a big meeting.
Everyone came — the
pretty excited snakes, the
slow thoughtful tortoises,
the clever quick lizards,
• Very, very long ago, there were no animals in Pambupatti,
only reptiles.
• They had a meeting every month.  Their leader, Makara, would
chair the meeting.
• Misusing his power, Makara ordered the tortoises and snakes to
leave the forest.
What Happened to the Reptiles/35
2020-21
Page 4


• Pambupatti is a peaceful village, inhabited by a variety of people.
• Prem, the narrator of the story, flees his village under unfortunate
conditions to reach Pambupatti by chance.
• An old resident of the village looks after him and tells him an
interesting story.
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, everyone
2020-21
34/A Pact with the Sun
seemed to be running. Finally, I found myself in Pambupatti,
and I saw some villagers gathered near a well. I ran to them,
and before I could say a thing, I fainted.
When I opened my eyes, I saw  an old man with white hair,
white beard and shining black eyes bending over me. For the
next few days, he looked after me, putting food in my mouth
and bringing me sweet, cool water from the stream. He rubbed
my feet gently and made the pain go away. Neighbours,
strangers — everyone came to visit me.
“Tell me, Grandfather”, I said to him one day. “I have never
seen people like the villagers here! In my village, people fight
with those who pray to another god. But here ... this seems a
very strange place!”
“Prem,” replied the old man, “I will tell you the story of
Pambupatti. You can take this story back to your village.
Maybe it will heal some of its wounds, and dry some of its sores.”
2020-21
“Oh, Grandfather,” I said anxiously, “don’t say that. What
I have seen in my village makes me burn with shame. I never,
never want to go back there.”
“But that’s exactly why you must go back,” he said, in a
soft voice. I kept quiet. I didn’t want to argue with him, and I
wanted to hear his story.
It happened a long, long time ago, he began. So long ago
that there were no schools and no teachers. Children lived in
caves with their parents and helped them to collect fruit and
berries from the forest. At that time, there were no tigers or
panthers or elephants in
Pambupatti forest. There
were only reptiles, many
kinds of reptiles. Now you
know what reptiles are.
Snakes, crocodiles,
turtles, lizards. And you
know that a reptile has
scales on its body and it
lays eggs. Every month,
the reptiles of Pambupatti
had a big meeting.
Everyone came — the
pretty excited snakes, the
slow thoughtful tortoises,
the clever quick lizards,
• Very, very long ago, there were no animals in Pambupatti,
only reptiles.
• They had a meeting every month.  Their leader, Makara, would
chair the meeting.
• Misusing his power, Makara ordered the tortoises and snakes to
leave the forest.
What Happened to the Reptiles/35
2020-21
36/A Pact with the Sun
and the moody crocodiles, grumpy because they were out of
water. The president of these meetings was Makara, the biggest
crocodile of the forest.
All the animals thought
he was very important.
When someone is strong
and powerful, you
know, it is difficult not
to go along with what he
says or does.
Now, one day, a
strange thing happened.
It was a week before one
of the monthly meetings.
Makara sent a letter to
2020-21
Page 5


• Pambupatti is a peaceful village, inhabited by a variety of people.
• Prem, the narrator of the story, flees his village under unfortunate
conditions to reach Pambupatti by chance.
• An old resident of the village looks after him and tells him an
interesting story.
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, everyone
2020-21
34/A Pact with the Sun
seemed to be running. Finally, I found myself in Pambupatti,
and I saw some villagers gathered near a well. I ran to them,
and before I could say a thing, I fainted.
When I opened my eyes, I saw  an old man with white hair,
white beard and shining black eyes bending over me. For the
next few days, he looked after me, putting food in my mouth
and bringing me sweet, cool water from the stream. He rubbed
my feet gently and made the pain go away. Neighbours,
strangers — everyone came to visit me.
“Tell me, Grandfather”, I said to him one day. “I have never
seen people like the villagers here! In my village, people fight
with those who pray to another god. But here ... this seems a
very strange place!”
“Prem,” replied the old man, “I will tell you the story of
Pambupatti. You can take this story back to your village.
Maybe it will heal some of its wounds, and dry some of its sores.”
2020-21
“Oh, Grandfather,” I said anxiously, “don’t say that. What
I have seen in my village makes me burn with shame. I never,
never want to go back there.”
“But that’s exactly why you must go back,” he said, in a
soft voice. I kept quiet. I didn’t want to argue with him, and I
wanted to hear his story.
It happened a long, long time ago, he began. So long ago
that there were no schools and no teachers. Children lived in
caves with their parents and helped them to collect fruit and
berries from the forest. At that time, there were no tigers or
panthers or elephants in
Pambupatti forest. There
were only reptiles, many
kinds of reptiles. Now you
know what reptiles are.
Snakes, crocodiles,
turtles, lizards. And you
know that a reptile has
scales on its body and it
lays eggs. Every month,
the reptiles of Pambupatti
had a big meeting.
Everyone came — the
pretty excited snakes, the
slow thoughtful tortoises,
the clever quick lizards,
• Very, very long ago, there were no animals in Pambupatti,
only reptiles.
• They had a meeting every month.  Their leader, Makara, would
chair the meeting.
• Misusing his power, Makara ordered the tortoises and snakes to
leave the forest.
What Happened to the Reptiles/35
2020-21
36/A Pact with the Sun
and the moody crocodiles, grumpy because they were out of
water. The president of these meetings was Makara, the biggest
crocodile of the forest.
All the animals thought
he was very important.
When someone is strong
and powerful, you
know, it is difficult not
to go along with what he
says or does.
Now, one day, a
strange thing happened.
It was a week before one
of the monthly meetings.
Makara sent a letter to
2020-21
What Happened to the Reptiles/37
the tortoises, asking them not to come to the meeting. Ahistay,
the big old star tortoise with black and yellow pictures on his
shell, was very angry.
“What does this mean?” he shouted. “How dare they!” But
not one of the tortoises had the courage to attend the meeting—
they were so few, the others so many!
Before the meeting, the giant Makara polished his teeth
with the red flowers of the tree by the river till they sparkled.
Everyone was waiting for him at the meeting place.
“Brothers and sisters,” he began. All the reptiles, even the
beautiful king cobras, stopped talking. Makara continued
his speech. “I have decided that we don’t need the tortoises! I
have told them not to come today. Brothers and sisters, can
you tell me why we don’t like the tortoises?”
The reptiles looked this way and that. They felt very
uncomfortable. The snakes hissed anxiously, the lizards
wriggled their tails, the crocodiles opened their jaws even
wider.
“But...” said one little lizard.
“No BUTS!” shouted Makara. There was silence.
“I think ...” said a baby crocodile.
“No I THINKS!” screamed Makara, so loudly that the fruit
in the tree above him rained down. After that, no one had the
courage to speak.
Makara cleared his throat and showed a few more teeth.
“Well,” he said, “I will tell you why we don’t like the tortoises.
They are so slow! So stupid! They even carry their houses on
their backs. Whoever heard of such a stupid thing? Now you
lizards, you live in trees. Would you ever carry a TREE on
your back? Would you?”
Small, frightened voices answered together, “No, we
wouldn’t. But...”
2020-21