Chapter I: The Awakening

I woke with a strange warmth on my face. That was odd. My room was always dim, the curtains drawn tight, and no shaft of sunlight ever found its way in, nor was there anyone around to switch on a light. I slowly opened my heavy eyelids, only to find not the familiar ceiling fan above, but a blur of green and gold. Leaves, branches and the morning sunlight filtering through the canopy. I tried to sit up, but my body refused. Something felt impossibly heavy, as if I had been cast in stone. I shifted to the rustle of dry grass beneath me, the earth damp against my side. My breath came out in a deep, resonant huff that startled me. The sound was not my own, it was too deep, too powerful, as if it belonged to someone enormous. Confusion wrapped around me like the thick fog that still hung in the edges of the forest. I glanced down, and instead of my arms were now two huge pillars wrapped in earthy wrinkled flesh. My heartbeat intensified. I tried to move again but instead shook the ground and the trees in my vicinity. My nose, now long and flexible, could touch the ground. On either sides appeared elongated white structures, protruding outward, gently curving and cone-shaped. My head felt heavy and I froze.

At first, I thought it was a dream, but the unsettling clarity hinted otherwise. Over the course of the  night, I had transformed. This was real. Suddenly, my gaze shifted to the canopy, where I saw a bird staring back at me. Its ash-grey body blended with the branches but a bold white eyebrow line and a long yellow-orange bill that curved down gracefully gave it away. Its long tail ended in a neat white tip, while the flash of red in its eye revealed an intensity that held me still.The Malabar Grey Hornbill made me look up and look around and then the forest whispered. I was no longer a man. Somewhere between night and morning, between sleep and waking, I had become an elephant.

Chapter II: The Becoming

I wanted to touch my face, to feel what I had become. Out of curiosity, I reached out. My trunk had taken over the role of my hands. Awkwardly, I lifted it and brushed it against my face. The skin was thick, rough, and solid. I stayed still for a while, the world pressing in around me. The forest stirred as I finally woke and found strength in my legs. Birds erupted into song, their melodies weaving through the trees, while spotted deer cautiously emerged from the bushes, their eyes wide and alert, sensing the presence of something epic. As the sun climbed higher, its heat became unbearable. Even the shade of the trees offered little relief. I realized with suspicion that I wasn’t sweating at all but my body longed for water. I didn’t know how, but I could sense a stream nearby. The sound of running water drifted to me, and somehow my body knew exactly where to go. Heavy steps carried me forward, slowly until the sound grew louder, a narrow ribbon of water appeared. Smaller than I had hoped, but it would have to do.

I stepped into the stream, the coolness seeping through my feet. But it wasn’t enough, I needed my whole body drenched. I worried that if I lay down again, it would be hard to get back up with this new weight I carried – Four to five tonnes of it. Then the urge came naturally. The trunk. It was more than a nose; it was a vessel. I dipped it into the stream and drew water in. My first attempt went wrong; too much water surged into the trunk, making me cough and choke, the spray weak and clumsy. But after a few tries, instinct took over. I filled, lifted, and blasted the water high over my head. A great gush exploded from my trunk, air and water bursting together in a loud trumpet that echoed through the forest. Cool droplets rained over my massive body. I used the same method to pour water into my mouth to drink, and for the first time since waking, I felt relief.

Chapter III: The explorer

As I moved, other animals joined me, spotted deer, and jungle mynas walking alongside, while tiny insects like beetles, butterflies, grasshoppers, and crickets danced around me in the air and on the floor. Suddenly, an intense hunger struck me. By now, I knew my trunk acted like a hand, and to eat, I would have to use it. The scent of ripe mangoes drifted from a certain direction, and I could also detect jackfruit from afar. Excited, I moved toward them, walking steadily; I was still adjusting to my newfound weight.

As the smell grew stronger, another strange scent reached me, very different from the fruits, ominous yet familiar. Humans! A few were standing in a dense coffee plantation, working, sweat dripping down their bodies. I turned towards them, hoping for help. I tried to communicate, but my attempts made them panic instead. I was still about twenty metres away, and reaching them seemed challenging. Between me and the humans lay a deep trench. The thought of descending into it was terrifying, what if I got stuck?

The hunger within me was growing so strong that I couldn’t help but take the risk. I slowly started kicking mud into the trench, filling it, and even found a few dead logs to dump into it. As it became shallower, I gathered all my courage and made the move, slowly managing to get across. Relief had barely begun to settle in when I heard the men shouting and making loud noises. I had no idea why they were doing it. As I moved toward them, the alarm intensified. Suddenly, I smelled fire and smoke. A sparking smoke ball came hurtling toward me, landing nearby with a loud burst. The sound terrified me, leaving me completely blank. Another followed, striking my back. The burst of scorching heat pierced me; the pain was intense. I had no choice but to flee, crossing the trench again and moving far away from them. I was startled by what I had just experienced; I meant no harm. All I wanted were those fruits to ease my hunger. Frightened, sad and still starving, I began wandering again, searching for food.

Chapter IV: Lessons Learnt

A clearing appeared through the dense vegetation, and an enticing aroma filled the air. I moved closer, more cautious than ever. The clearing revealed a vast expanse of golden-yellow paddy fields, stretching endlessly. I couldn’t resist, but my intuition warned me to hold back. The memory of the previous encounter lingered deep within me, and fear gripped my heart. Yet, my hunger grew unbearable, slowly pushing me forward. As I approached, I noticed a series of thin lines hanging down to the ground, a barrier, a hanging fence. Curiously, I reached out with my trunk to touch it. The moment it made contact, a sharp sting shot through me, sudden and painful, unlike anything, different from the firecracker that had struck my back. Shocked, both by the pain and the electric fence, I stepped back. Perhaps it was another way to keep me from eating what I wanted, or maybe they are protecting what they grew and what belonged to them, just like every other being does. Hungry and enraged, I moved away in despair.

It made sense now–the path towards humans led to pain, so I decided to turn back, hoping it would take me deeper into the forest. Starving, I searched desperately for any familiar scent of food, but nothing caught my senses. Then I noticed a herd of spotted deer gracefully grazing on the tender, fresh grass around me. Curious and still hungry, I decided to give it a try.

However, grabbing hold of the delicate, thin blades of grass  with my trunk proved to be no easy task. It was like switching from using a fork to chopsticks for the first time. At first, I got none. But after some effort, a few finally came into my grasp and with them, the comforting relief of solid food in my stomach. Quickly, I began to get the hang of it, and soon a feeding frenzy took over me. The spotted deer watched, surprised, as I devoured the grasses with growing confidence. Grasshoppers leapt frantically from the blades I plucked. As I ate, I realised that not all grasses were the same; some tasted better and some felt mouthful. I wandered, seeking out the ones I liked best, and finally settled on a patch of tender, flavourful grasses. I was so hungry that I could eat up to 100 kilograms of food in a single sitting. The spotted deer, sensing the prime selection, joined me, grazing alongside and we munched contentedly. For the first time in hours, I felt nourished and at ease.

Chapter V: The Belonging

After hours of feeding, I was finally satiated. My hunger had nearly disappeared, and my thoughts, once dominated by the urgent need to find food and water, began to settle. Earlier, my mind had raced relentlessly; first searching for water, then for food. Now, at ease and with my belly almost full, my thoughts drifted beyond survival. I turned inward, reflecting on how I arrived here, and how could I ever return to what I was before?

I felt the weight of my own transformation, the unfamiliar strength in my limbs, the dexterity of my trunk, the vastness of my senses. I didn’t remember much of my past life. All that lingered was the faint awareness that I had once been human, a man. Whenever I struggled to recall more, the memories blurred, slipping through my mind like mist. Faces, places, and moments of that former existence remained out of reach, fragmented and hazy and the faint echo of a life I could no longer fully grasp. It was as though the forest had reshaped me, teaching me patience, endurance, and a sense of being reborn.

I realised that survival was only the beginning; understanding myself, my connection to the world around me, and the web of life I was now part of, was my true journey.

A couple of years had passed, and by now I know the forests well, where to search for food, where the streams and water bodies lay and which paths were safe. Along the way, I had made a few friends of my kind and had learned how to find and eat what I wanted, including the paddy, mangoes and jackfruits grown by humans. Bamboo turned out to be my favourite treat, but I had to search long for it. More often, I came across Senna, a plant that spread quickly and thickly, forming dense walls that are hard to pass through. What worries me most is how fast it grows; at this rate, it could eventually take over the forest and disrupt its balance. It tastes unpleasant, and I steered clear of it. I’m not alone in this – most animals avoided Senna, showing just how unwelcome it is in the wild. What’s the point of being surrounded by plenty if it’s not what you long for? The things you truly crave always seem the hardest to find. Sometimes, life feels so unfair. But my new friends have been kind – they taught me how to find and eat certain types of soil that contain essential nutrients my body can’t get from plants. The soil usually tasted salty, but I have come to enjoy it. They also showed me how to strip and eat tree bark, a tiring process that puts my trunk and tusks to good use. This food is unique and becomes especially important during dry seasons, when grasses and leaves are scarce, bark serves as a vital backup.

Chapter VI: The Being

I was now far from the place where my journey had begun. Somehow, though, I found myself drawn back to the same forests, but things were different this time. When I returned to walk the same path, the changes were remarkable. The once sparse ground vegetation had flourished into thick mats of grass, bushes, and flowering plants, creating a vibrant carpet that attracted a variety of animals. New trees had sprouted, their fruits already beginning to nourish birds, monkeys, and other animals. I remembered tasting the fruits of these trees, a memory that connected me to the forest in a deep, almost instinctive way. I realised, in my own way, that I had played a role in this transformation. Each step I took, everyfruit I ate and scattered, helped sow seeds, spread life and shape the forest. Every movement, every choice I took in search of food, rippled through the forest, creating opportunities for new life to thrive. The depressions left by my footsteps became homes for frogs, where they built families in the water that had collected. The dung I left behind became treasures for dung beetles, who rolled and buried them, creating homes and food for themselves and their young ones.

I was not merely a visitor; I was an essential thread in the web of the forest, a living bridge between the trees, the soil, and all the creatures that called it home. The fact that the forest’s change was a result of my own change into an elephant struck me profoundly. Seeing the growth and renewal I had helped create, I felt, for the first time, a deep sense of purpose, a quiet understanding of the beauty of giving and selflessness, and of being part of something larger than myself. When I arrived, the other animals recognised me and looked at me with joy and gratitude. This time, the herd of spotted deer had new members, including many fawns. I stood still on the very spot where I had first awakened as an elephant. The canopy above had grown denser, and there, once again, the Malabar grey hornbill stared at me just as it had the first time. The gaze that had given me clarity back then, made me stand on my feet, perhaps because we both served the forest in similar ways, and in that, we were the same, connected by something unseen. I still vaguely remember being a human, the man I once was, but that part of me had faded. I no longer felt the need to search for the answers to my past. Now, my life was here, in the forest, connected to its creatures and its cycle of life, and that was more than enough. I took the opportunity to lay again on the soil I was reborn, the scattered lights through the canopy fell softly on my face as I took a deep breath of fulfilment and slowly closed my eyes.

Story and photographs by Sujnan MK, Wildlife Biologist, Wayanad Conflict Mitigation Project, Wildlife Trust of India