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Five men in a cart
tale from Andhra Pradesh
Five men from the ashram set off in a bullock cart to sell produce from their garden and to buy provisions at the local market. They were Guruji the teacher, in a bright saffron turban, and his four very enthusiastic, very obedient disciples, all in white dhotis and kurtas.
Guruji urged his men, ´Your guru is like a cow, ever ready to give milk for your benefit. So always, always, follow your guru´s orders.´
´Ji ha,´ said the four men together, their heads wobbling in agreement.
Guruji went on. ´Make sure you take the essentials to eat and drink. We will not stop at all as I want to reach the market by noon.´
´Ji ha,´ said the four men. They loaded the cart with a big black pot of rice, jars of water, and a basket filled with fruit and vegetables for selling at the market. They sat in the soft, hay-lined wagon at the back. The cart was drawn by two bullocks with tinkling brass bells on their thick necks, tolling doh, doh, dong as the wheels of the cart rattled thup, thup, thup along the rugged road.
It was a beautiful day and the morning breeze tickled their noses. Soon Guruji dozed off, and his head rolled from side to side. On the way the cart swerved to avoid a troop of monkeys. It gave a big jolt and Guruji´s turban slipped off his head and fell on to the road.
´Stop!´ cried two of the men. ´We must pick up Guruji´s turban.´ ´No!´ cried the other two men. ´Don´t you remember? Guruji doesn´t want to stop at all. He wants to reach the market by noon.´
The men did not know what to do. They looked at Guruji for guidance, but their teacher´s chest rose and fell with rattling snores.
They continued the journey and the bullock cart wound its way along the road that skirted the edge of the river. High above, the sun blazed fiercely. Guruji woke up, feeling very hot. He stroked his bald, damp head. ´Where is my turban?´ he shouted.
Guruji seemed very angry. The four men looked at each other. Then one of them said, ´Guruji, it fell when the cart jolted!´
´Then why didn´t you pick it up?´
The four men shrugged uneasily. ´Guruji, you told us not to stop at all,´ they said together.
´Silly, silly men!´ Guruji slapped at his forehead in frustration. ´How will I go to the market without my turban? Turn back at once. I need my turban!´
´Ji ha,´ said the four men together, and they all wobbled their heads in agreement.
The cart turned back towards the ashram. Soon the men spotted the bright saffron turban on the road. They stopped the cart, picked up the turban and gave it to their teacher.
Guruji placed it on his head and wagged his finger at the four men. ´Next time, pick up ANYTHING that falls on the road! Do you understand me? Do you?´
´Ji ha,´ said the four men, wobbling their heads.
´Now hurry up or we will never reach the market in time.´
´Ji ha,´ said the four men, wobbling their heads once again.
The five men in the bullock cart set off for the market once more. Further along the road, Guruji dozed off again.
Soon the droppings of the bullocks fell heavily onto the road. Plop! Plop! Plop!
The four men looked at each other, horrified. They were supposed to pick up anything that fell on the road.
´Stop´ cried two men. ´We must pick up the dung, even if it is filthy. We must obey Guruji.´
´No!´ said the other two. ´We will be late for the market!´
The tour men argued for a while. They looked at their sleeping teacher and recalled his orders — to pick up ANYTHING that fell on the road.
…
(To be continued in the PDF attachment)
Shenaaz Nanji; Christopher Corr
Indian Tales: A Barefoot Collection
Cambridge: MA, Barefoot Books, 2007
__________________________________________
Sleep well, little bear
In the evening, the little bear took off
his apple trousers and put on his star pyjama.
He had heard a long good-night story.
He had said a small prayer.
He had hummed along with a little sleep song.
He had been given five kisses.
But he still needed a drink of water from the blue cup,
because suddenly he was very thirsty,
just as he was every evening.
Then he had to put on his red sleeping socks,
because he had forgotten them.
Then he wanted someone to blow warm air under
the covers, because he felt so cold.
And only then could the light be turned out in his room.
It´s all quiet now.
But the little bear is not tired.
And when little bears are not tired, they scramble quietly out of their beds and build themselves a staircase…
... to where the moon floats in the heavens
like a great round lantern, shining softly on the meadows,
on the house, on the trees, on the river,
and on the whole world.
It´s cooler outside now.
The ducks are still taking a bath in the river.
Sometimes, in the silence,
you can hear the frogs croaking.
On the dock, a shirt blows in the evening breeze.
It had been the sail for a boat, in the afternoon,
when the little bear was a pirate.
And the shoe box was the treasure chest.
(To be continued in the PDF attachment)
__________________________________________
Posted by: Stories for Everyone - AS <sg@storiesforeveryone.com>
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