The Pungalunga And The Bull

There is this parable in the land of the Pungalungas, which mothers tell their young 'uns. It revolves around a sporting contest held every once a century, called "Killing The Bull".

Now, beloved reader, around this time there were only two Pungalangas that dared to enter the competition.

One was Wind-in-the-East, and the other was Small-Man-Eats-No-Meat. Wind was a huge Pungalunga, rippling with muscle and 'man of many men'. He entered the competition because he thought he owed it to all his supporters, who whistled and screamed in delight at the sight of him.

SmallMan, on the other hand, was nothing special. He entered the competition because he thought it would be an interesting challenge.

Just after registration day Wind brought his gang of friends to local bar, giving out drinks for everyone. Of these group, two were particularly reknowned for their understanding. One was Midnight-Is-Too-Harsh, and the other was Twilight-Is-For-Cows. When asked how he was going to kill the bull Wind roared: "I will tackle it head on!"

The crowd roared in appreciation. Midnight and Twilight, however, kept quiet. They had seen the bull: it was the finest in all of Pungaland, and it was ferocious. It had already flattened half the village that brought it up, and it took an entire army division to restrain and bring it back in.

"Wind," Midnight said, quietly, "I think it is unlikely you can beat this bull head on. It is unlike any we have seen before. Why not use a gun?"

Wind closed one eye. Then closed the other. His brain was churning, realizing he was in front of everyone who supported him. "Nonsense! I've heard of guns - they're highly untested! You'll NEVER see me holding a gun!"

Guns, were, at that moment, looked down upon by the Pungalungas.

"But Wind!" Midnight protested, "It would be impossible for you to defeat the bull that way, even at your current strength!"

Wind snorted beer down his nose in his indignation. "How dare you question my strength!"

He flexed a bicep in front of Midnight. "There is ALWAYS a chance for me to defeat the bull! Don't you read Norman Vincent Peale?" - the Pungalungas loved reading human material - "NOTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE!"

"But the odds of you beating the bull is a billion to 1!"

Wind laughed! "Do you think me a fool that I don't know the odds?! I DO!! As long as there is a chance I WILL prove you wrong! I am the strongest amongst all you Pungalungas! I WILL SHOW YOU THAT SUCCESS IS HARD WORK AND I WILL BE FIRST TO DEFEAT THE BULL HEAD ON!"

Twilight spoke up now. He and Midnight had both seen the bull, but for fear of breaking his friendship to Wind he spoke up: "I believe you can do it, sir. I will support you 100%, and I will pray for you day and night to Madya the All Seeing One!"

Wind smiled. This was what he wanted to hear. "Good, Twilight! You are loyal! I will go up against the bull next week and we shall drink to our glory!"

A cheer in the bar; Midnight looked uncomfortable. He couldn't stand it any longer, so he spat out the words:

"If you go up against the bull next week you'll be killed!"

Wind was furious. He swept his tankard aside and grabbed Midnight by the throat. Then he beat him up, leaving Midnight's broken body to the Pungalunga Medical Squad to deal with.

The next day Midnight called for SmallMan. He was wrapped in Pungalunga cotton, in bad shape, but he still called SmallMan up.

"I fear, SmallMan, that you will fall into the same trap as Wind. How are you going to tackle the bull?"

"I am going to ram it head on."

Midnight sighed. "Why would you want to do that?"

"Because Wind believes it can be done, so it must be possible."

"Oh, SmallMan," Midnight said, "It is possible, but 1 week is not enough for you to prepare your face off with the bull! I hear it takes at least a year or two with the bullmasters of Texas to even learn the basics of their craft, and even after 2 years they might fail and die! Novice bullmasters never marry, you know."

"Then what do you want me to do?" SmallMan asked, thinking.

"Oh, call my cousin, Marish, and ask for a gun. It accomplishes the same thing, and you might very well die, but at least now the risk is justified."

And with that Midnight's eyes fluttered, and he passed away.

So it came to be that Wind worked out and learned the basics of bullfighting, and SmallMan took up marksmenship. They trained hard for a week, totally dedicated to their cause, and, alas! It was time.

Wind entered the arena, flexed his muscles, and roared. The crowd cheered, they waved flags and pointed and bought popcorn. They were in for a show! The great beast was about to be brought down by the strongest Pungalunga ever!

"You go and beat the odds, Wind!" shouted Twilight.

The bull entered the arena. It was a horrible sight - eyes red, hoofs the size of dinnerplates and a body worthy of four wedding dinners. It snorted, and a cloud of dust rose in front of it.

The bull charged. Wind flexed his muscles.

A dull thud as he was thrown into the air and flattened by dinner-plate sized hoofs.

They dragged Wind's body out of the arena, torn and bloodied and mangled. The crowd then started booing at SmallMan, who stood alone with a gun in Wind's place.

Again, the bull was released. Again, the bull charged.

A sharp crack and a sidestep ...

The bull was dead, a clean hole in its head.

*

Everyone attended Wind's funeral service, where beef was served in copious amounts.

"He was a good man." they said, "He gave his best against all odds."

Nobody mentioned that he was given a choice, nobody mentioned that it was at best a dream, charging head on with a bull without the basics in Bull fighting. Twilight sipped his drink and ate his fourth plate of beef stew, and said to a Pungalunga next to him: "Next function, SmallMan's victory dinner."

3 lessons can be taken from this parable:

1. Given a choice, a smart general stages battles on his own ground. Fighting to the death is for the army with no other options left.

2. "There is a thin line between self confidence and self delusion" - Tash Aw

3. “One may understand the cosmos, but never the ego; the self is more distant than any star.” - G.K. Chesterton.