What Talking Jackals and Mountain Kings Taught Me in “Fables from Simla”

There’s a particular kind of story that lives in the high places of the world. You can feel it in the way a pine leans into the fog or how a narrow path curves out of view like it knows something you don’t. The hills around Simla are full of those stories. Some are wise, some are strange, and some carry the weight of centuries in just a few short lines. These tales don’t need grand palaces or dragons to capture your attention. They speak in the voices of animals, villagers, spirits, and tricksters, all bound by the rhythms of life in the mountains.

This book is a collection of those stories, retold in a way that brings out their wit, mystery, and enduring charm. There’s the jackal who outwits a partridge, the prince born with the moon on his forehead, and the faithful dog who faces the gods. Each tale comes from the oral traditions of the Simla region, passed down by word of mouth and shaped by the people who told them over generations. Some are clever, others haunting, and a few might even leave you wondering whether that rustle in the trees is just the wind after all.

These stories don’t rely on heavy moral lessons. Instead, they offer glimpses into how people once made sense of the world around them. A snake might hold a secret. A foolish king might lose everything to a humble villager. Luck shifts. Wisdom hides in unexpected places. Even in the most magical turns, the tales stay close to the soil, grounded in daily life, the seasons, and the quiet authority of nature.

You won’t find sweeping epics here or endless genealogies. What you’ll find is something older and maybe more enduring: a kind of storytelling that is both practical and poetic, rooted in the land and the lives of those who know it best. That spirit is what I’ve tried to preserve in “Fables from Simla.”