A Tale From A Mango Tree (Children’s Story)

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‘You, know, I’m the one taking all the risks, sneaking into houses. You stand at a safe distance ready to run away at the first sign of trouble.’

‘And don’t forget you’ve no act unless I pick you up and drop you over the fence, keep watch and get you back same way.’

The two men, one short and the other tall, were arguing under the Mango Tree over their fair share of the loot taken from an unwilling wayfarer whose misfortune it was to cross their path early in the evening, .

As always their wrangle was inconclusive and it was agreed to maintain the status quo at 50-50. .

The short man now emptied the contents of the wayfarer’s bag into a pile on the ground – it was all silver coins. Didn’t amount to much belying the heft. Cursing their luck over the insubstantial returns for their efforts, he dutifully did the ‘one for you, one for me, watched over by a pair of wary eyes,’

The meager split finished, ‘Okay…means we’re not done for the night.’

‘You’re right. You have anything in mind?’

‘I have heard there’s an widow living all by herself in the village. Old money. I suggest we pay her a visit tonight. A real cinch – we should be done and gone before the clock moves.’

It wasn’t dark yet and a little shut-eye was in order before attending to their business usually conducted after mid-night. The coins were secured in  waist belts covered by the dhoti folds, the turbans straightened and laid out on the ground and in a few turns they were lost to the waking world.

The entire proceedings were watched with dismay by Kaaga, the crow. The hapless wayfarer had rested under the Tree and even shared his food before running into these men. And now they plan to rob the poor lady.

He turned sad:

‘The kind lady…never missed setting aside every morning some cooked rice for us. But how do I alert her to their nefarious plans? We don’t speak their language.’

Awash with despair, ‘A shame that I know what’s going to happen and still helpless to do anything about it.’

‘May be we could do something,’ said the Mango Tree, a mute witness to the happenings till now.

‘How do you mean?’

‘It might just work…go and get Mooshika (the mouse) here – we need him.’

Soon enough an excited Mooshika scampered to the base of the Tree – for, it was quite unusual to be called at this hour.

‘You’ve told me some time ago you hoard things people leave behind or lose at the village tank and it’s getting so full up that you find it difficult to move around in your own home?’

‘That’s right. Badly needs cleaning up – since she’s isn’t around I don’t mind saying this.’

‘Anything in silver? Not coins.’

‘Oh, plentiful – chains, rings, tiny bells fallen off anklets, small diya’s (wick-lamps)…you know we have no use for these.’

Thereupon Mooshika heard from the Mango Tree what was to be done, which it accomplished silently in the next few minutes, helped by a few friends.

Just when the tall man got the spell right to open up the treasure chest inside the cave, he was rudely woken up by faint sounds near his ears of bells tingling.

A light sleeper he was as suited for his trade, he was immediately alert. Unable to discern any immediate threat he calmed down. Nevertheless it was safer for them to be ready for any danger lurking close by; so he woke up his accomplice.

As the short man got up, a rain of silver trinkets fell on the ground from his garment.

The tall man’s countenance hardened.

He fixed the other man with a malevolent glare: ’So you hid these from me…you cheat’.

‘Don’t know what you’re talking about.’

The tall man silently pointed to the silver on the ground.

‘Oh…no idea, really, how they got to me…believe me you’

Trading mutual allegations, the feud heated up.

It was too late…the rising decibels had brought a crowd of unwelcome villagers to the spot.

Without a thought, they took off to keep the hide on their back…as fast as their legs could carry, stumbling and pulling themselves up and helping each other in their flight.

Never mind it was late, Kaaga cawed gustily, Mooshika and his pals danced unabashedly and the Tree sighed in relief.

End

No-Corpse No-Blood No-Gore No-Ghost No-Aliens No-Creatures No-Calamity Horror Story! (50 Words)

Is this possible at all?

Here’s one:

A girl returned home from the school and asked her grandmother,

“Granny, what’s a lover?”

“A lover?” the grandmother said. “Let me think. Lov…. Lover…. Oh, my God!”

She rushed to the wall, pulled aside the hanging rug, unlocked a hidden closet door…

…tumbling down from behind was a skeleton.

End

 

 

Source: Adapted from Nidokidos

A Tale From A Mango Tree (100 Words)

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The Wise One chatted up: ‘A Guru has come into the village.’

‘I know,’ said the Mango Tree.

‘You know? How?’

‘They rested right here under on their way to the village.’

‘Oh…last evening, had gone to the hut where he is staying…a steady stream of people kept up going in.’

‘Hear any wise words from him?’

‘No, there was no pravachan. Just people fussing about…he seems to enjoy all their attention and adulation…just like us.’

‘Well, his way of staying connected with the world for what it is, I would think. And be reminded, yes, he’s just like us.’

End

 

A Tale From A Mango Tree (100 Words)

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‘Tomorrow it’s going to be a feast for us too, you know? Zamindar celebrating his son’s marriageeveryone invited followed by a sumptuous lunch.’

‘Telling me, silly bird? I know exactly what happens in the village and for miles around.’  

‘Oh, you do?’

‘How many eyes and ears you have?’

‘Why, a pair each.’

‘I’ve hundreds. Your feathered friends here – when they return at nightfall, I hear it all. And, these passers-by pausing under my shade for rest – they aren’t tongue-tied either.’

‘So you must know the town guys

‘What about them?’

‘Themplanning to clear up this area and about?’
End

 

 

Source: Image from wallsticker.co.za

Name

A 100-word drabble on ‘Name’:

‘Why these ants don’t have names like us?’

‘Is it important to tell one from the other?’

‘It would be, for them.’

‘There’re too many – we’ll run out of names.’

‘We can always call them Anty1, Anty2…’

‘We call out someone by name to draw his attention for some reason. What, with them?’

‘Do we need a reason? We can always talk to them.’

‘Ants hear only vibrations.’

‘So, we tap it out.’

‘They don’t understand enough to respond to names.’

The sugar bowl moved squashing an ant.

‘You would be careful if there was a name. Won’t you?’

End

Visit http://the writeaholicblog.wordpress.com/ for Aheïla’s drabble challenges.