Dhondu's song awoke not just the villagers, but the forest animals as well. Sticks in their hands, the villagers rushed to the cucumber garden. Blissfully unaware of the riot he was causing, Dhondu continued his full-throated braying. Opening his eyes, Dhondu saw the villagers. A smile lit his face. Ah! There they were, his admirers! With renewed vigour, Dhondu sang more loudly. 
'ɛs sɔŋ ʌwoʊk nɑt dʒʌst ðʌ vɪlɪdʒɜ˞z, bʌt ðʌ fɔɹʌst ænʌmʌlz æz wɛl. stɪks ɪn ðɛɹ hændz, ðʌ vɪlɪdʒɜ˞z ɹʌʃt tu ðʌ kjukʌmbɜ˞ ɡɑɹdʌn. blɪsfʌli ʌnʌwɛɹ ʌv ðʌ ɹaɪʌt hi wɑz kɑzɪŋ,  kʌntɪnjud hɪz fʊl-θɹoʊtɪd . oʊpʌnɪŋ hɪz aɪz,  sɔ ðʌ vɪlɪdʒɜ˞z. ʌ smaɪl lɪt hɪz feɪs. ɑ! ðɛɹ ðeɪ wɜ˞, hɪz ʌdmaɪɹɜ˞z! wɪð ɹɪnud ,  sæŋ mɔɹ laʊdli. 
 Indian speaks slightly slowly with a monotone voice in a very quiet, almost studio-like environment. The recording is of very high quality.