Submitted by: Burhan Sharief

There was once a lion who made a habit of ambushing a pack of wolves while they slept, exhausted after their nightly hunts. His attacks were swift and brutal, leaving the wolves frightened, scattered, and powerless. One night, weary of living in fear, a few wolves gathered beneath the cold glow of the moon to discuss their shared misery.

“This can’t go on,” said one. “We must find a way to stop this tyrant.”

Among the wolves lived an old sage, grey and slow-moving, who had long retreated from the concerns of the younger pack. He rarely joined meetings, and so, as they convened, one wolf said, “The old one won’t come tonight. He is too tired and too distant from our troubles.”

But to everyone’s surprise, the sage wolf did appear, emerging from the fog with two silent companions by his side. The gathering fell quiet at his arrival, their eyes drawn to the aged wolf who still carried the air of forgotten strength.

“Why call upon an old and worn wolf like me?” the sage wolf asked, his voice cracked but steady. “Yet I see your suffering has grown loud enough to reach even my ears.”

One wolf rose and pleaded, “Please, by the grace of the gods, help us. We are being hunted in our land.”

The old wolf nodded slowly. “I have seen many lions in my time,” he said, “but never one so merciless. Perhaps the time has come for action.”

“This tyrant will face his reckoning,” barked a young wolf with anger in his heart. “Even the jungle has its limits.”

“Indeed,” said another elder. And then all fell silent, waiting for the sage to speak again.

The old wolf looked into their hopeful eyes. “If we strike together,” he said, “we can defeat the lion. It will take courage, but not more than a moment’s worth. We outnumber him. Fear is the only thing stopping us.”

A chorus of growls and cheers filled their meeting.

“Wait,” the sage warned, raising his paw. “Think carefully. Are you ready to bear the weight of this battle?”

One by one, each wolf nodded. They were tired of running.

“Then choose your Jamadaar,” said the sage. “Choose the one who will guide you into the danger and give the command to attack.”

The wolves began to murmur and look among themselves. Some suggested the swiftest runners, others pointed to the wisest wolves, but one name returned to every tongue: the old sage wolf.

The old one shook his head. “I am frail and past my prime.”

“But you are the only one we trust,” said another. “You have wisdom. You have seen more than any of us.”

The sage wolf hesitated. Something stirred in him, and he laughed gently, perhaps a curiosity lingered within him. Could he really be their Jamadaar and lead these wolves to defy a lion? In his long life, he had never witnessed such defiance. So he agreed.

To distinguish their Jamadaar, the pack decided to mark him. One wolf remembered that a shepherd had recently left behind a broken piece of a wooden winnower. They tied the faded fragment to the Jamadaar’s tail so he could be seen clearly when the time came.

With resolve burning low but steady in their bellies, the wolves made their way to the lion’s den.

The sun had not yet risen when the lion emerged. His golden mane glowed with menace. The wolves, now assembled in silence around him and stood their ground. Their hearts beat like drums in their chests.

Then the lion stepped amidst them.

He roared, and they started to grind their teeth and bite their lips in fear of the terrible beast. 

The pack broke. Some slipped in the dust, some bolted blindly into the woods, and others collapsed where they stood. The lion roared again, and the rest scattered, howling.

Nearby stood a narrow cave, barely wide enough for a wolf to slip through. One by one, the terrified pack squeezed inside. Behind them, the sage wolf, burdened by age and the wooden tag on his tail, limped toward the opening.

Just as he reached the mouth of the cave, the wooden winnover snagged against the rocks. The old wolf tried to push forward, but the tug of the object held him back.

“Come quickly!” a wolf inside cried. “You’ll be torn apart!”

“The burden of Jamadaeri” the old wolf whispered, “is what holds me now.”

Before he could break free, the lion pounced. With a growl like a war cry, he grabbed the winnover and dragged the old wolf from the cave’s mouth. The sage cried once, then was silenced, his limbs torn from his body while the helpless pack watched, pressed into the shadows of safety. 

And so the wolves’ rebellion died before it could truly begin. The lion roamed free, and the sage wolf who had dared to lead them became the first and final sacrifice. 

Moral/theme:

You cannot bend nature to your will. The lion will always be the lion, and the wolf, no matter how wise, remains prey. However sharp the mind or noble the intention, one cannot outthink the order of the wild. Against nature’s law, reason alone cannot triumph.

Original name of story – Shal-e-Jamadaeri (The wolf’s leadership)

Shal – wolf

Jamadaar – Leader

Jamadaeri – Authority 

About Burhan:

Burhan is an undergraduate student at Ashoka University majoring in Philosophy, Politics, and Economics with a specialization in Philosophy, and a minor in Media Studies. Passionate about photography, writing, and interdisciplinary learning.