Langurs are grey-colored monkeys with a black face. They generally live in the jungles. One such langur was Konda Mucchu. He heard noises, shouts, and peculiar smells emanating from a village nearby. He became curious, entered the village, climbed a tall building, sat there, and looked around.

It was a main street for shopping. Konda Mucchu could not recognize the various things he saw, such as pinwheels, bangles, jewels, saris, and various fruits other than bananas. He was tempted to jump down and grab some, but a long stick the shopkeeper kept nearby discouraged him.

Pretty girls and women wearing colorful dresses and saris flitted from shop to shop like butterflies. He was curious to see fresh yellow grains spread over the cement streets to dry. Is this edible? Mucchu wondered. He decided to come down and investigate.

The paddy seeds were rough to walk on. He grabbed a fistful and dropped into his mouth. It was tasteless because of the husk, and he spit it out. Someone in the nearby shop shouted, “You vermin, where did you come from? Get out.”

Konda Mucchu realized this was not a conducive place to remain. He jumped over a parapet wall, holding a pillar, he climbed and sat on a three-story building. Until now, he did not realize that the tip of his tail was hurting. On closer inspection, Mucchu noticed an acacia thorn had gone deep into his tail. Perhaps it was from the paddy. He tried to take it off by chewing, but succeeded in breaking the outside portion only. He thought, “Who will help me? My friend, the hummingbird, with a long beak could help, but I broke the outside part.”

From his vantage point he looked down the bazaar. He saw a barber shop. Some people came in for haircuts and some for trimming their beards. The barber was using a razor dexterously. “Yes, he can help me,” thought Konda Mucchu.

Konda Mucchu entered the barber shop. The barber, as well as the customers, were surprised to see a langur amidst them.

“I don’t do haircuts or beards here for langurs,” said the barber.

“I did not come for that. Please help me. There is a thorn stuck in my tail and it is hurting. Remove it with your razor.”

“Oh, no. You are a monkey and if something goes wrong, you will bite me. No, no, no. I can’t help you.”

Just then Konda Mucchu yawned exhibiting his long, sharp teeth.

“I will do it”, said the barber immediately. He sharpened his razor and very carefully tried to remove the thorn. The razor was sharp and cut the tip of Konda Mucchu’s tail. The thorn came out with a bit of the tail.

Konda Mucchu was mad. “What kind of a barber are you? Your customers are lucky still to have their heads intact. I need my tail. Can you stick it back on?”

“I can’t.”

“Then, give the razor to me. You don’t know how to use it anyway.”

A langur sitting on a motorcycle, in a crowded street of Varanasi India, is looking up in the air.

The barber, scared that the langur would bite him, obliged. Konda Mucchu felt happy. He walked down the bazaar holding the razor in his right hand. Then, he saw a man breaking firewood into small pieces with his hands. Splinters poked his hands causing a little bleeding. Konda Mucchu felt sad. He said, “Dear firewood splitting man, why are you struggling with your hands when I have this sharp razor here. Take it and chop the wood.”

“Oh, no. You are a langur, and if the razor breaks, you will hurt me.”

“No, I won’t. Take it. No strings attached.” The firewood splitting man applied a couple of strokes and the razor broke.

“Oh, no. Why did you break my nice razor? Fix it, or give me the firewood for compensation”.

Konda Mucchu tied the wood into a bundle and walked down the street carrying the load on his head. “Firewood for sale,” he shouted.

Then he saw an old lady making dosa (rice batter cooked to a thin, flat crepe like shape) using a few splinters she found here and there for cooking. She was struggling with the meager fire.

Konda Mucchu felt bad. “Dear old lady, why struggle? Take this firewood and cook nice dosas. Don’t hesitate, take it.” The old lady was hesitant to take wood from a langur, but the monkey convinced her. After the dosas were cooked, Konda Mucchu said, “Can I have my firewood back?”

“That is funny, how can I give it back? The firewood is gone. Look here.” The lady pointed out at the ashes.

I don’t believe in magic. Either you give back my wood, or give me all the dosas.”

Konda Mucchu carried all the dosas in a banana leaf. Nearby, he saw a wedding ceremony and band music playing. The drums fascinated Mucchu. He addressed the drum players. “Here, I have a few dosas. Take a break and eat them. Then, you can beat the drums louder.”

“Oh, no. We don’t want your dosas. We can’t trust you.”

“Trust me. I belong to God Hanuman clan. Moreover, the dosas are free.”

“All right. If you say so.” The drum players ate the dosas.

“Are you happy?” Konda Mucchu said, “Now, please give my dosas back. I have to go.”

“We can’t. They are getting digested.”

“All right. In that case, give me your big drum.”

Tufted gray langur monkey in Anuradhapura, Sri Lanka, Asia.

Konda Mucchu carried the drum, beating it,dum, dum, dum, dum, down the street. He saw a temple tower and climbed to the top and sat there. He sang beating the drum.

“Toka poye, katthi vachhe, dum, dum.”

“The tail is gone, I got a razor, dum, dum.”

“Razor is gone, I got firewood, dum, dum.”

“Firewood gone, I got dosas, dum, dum.”

“Dosas gone, I got a drum, dum dum.”

“Drum is gone, I am happy, dum, dum, dum, dum…”

Konda Mucchu dropped the drum which broke into hundreds of pieces. Jumping from building to building, he joined his friends in the jungle. They liked Konda Mucchu’s short tail. “It is cute,” they said.

“It is the latest style,” Konda Mucchu proudly said, making his friends jealous.