He admired his new possessions proudly as he wandered the jungle. They glistened red in the sun, and seemed perfect to him. He became so attached to them, that he didn’t even notice his hunger at first. A fruit tree reminded him of his hunger, but he felt the apples in his hands. He couldn’t bear to set them down to reach for the fruit. In fact, he couldn’t relax, either, if he was to defend his apples. A proud, but less happy monkey continued to walk along the forest trails.

The apples felt heavy, and at one point the poor little monkey thought about leaving them behind. He was tired, hungry, and he couldn’t climb trees or collect fruit with his hands full. What if he just let go? Letting go of such valuable things seemed crazy, but what else could he do? He was so tired. Seeing the next fruit tree, and smelling its fruit was enough. He dropped the wooden apples and reached up for his meal. He was happy again.

Like that little monkey, we sometimes carry things that seem too valuable to let go. Shiny wooden apples leave us tired and hungry for a better life. Still, letting go seems crazy. Even our worries are sacred apples – they prove we are “doing everything we can.” We hold onto them compulsively.

He lived at the very edge of the village in a small lodge made from bark and branches. His hair was always a tangled mess, and his clothes were old and tattered cast-offs he had been given in trade.

The village children were cruel and made fun of him because of the way he looked and because he was an orphan. This was a time when people did not have stories to teach them how to respect and care for others.

Young Mohan was an excellent hunter with his bow and arrows. He traded the birds and animals he killed for parched corn, other food and clothes.

As winter drew nearer, Mohan had to go further and further into the woods to hunt. One day he went further than he had ever been before. Eventually he came to a clearing where there was a large flat smooth stone with another round stone sitting on top of it.

Mohan sat on the flat stone and rested his back against the round one. He laid the birds he had killed next to him. Then he reached into his buckskin pouch for some parched corn, and began to tighten his bowstring.

“Shall I tell you a story?” asked a deep rumbling voice near him.

Mohan got such a fright he nearly choked. He jumped up quickly, spitting corn from his mouth and looked around but could see no one.

“Who’s there?” shouted Mohan. “Come out and show yourself.”

The clearing was silent. Nothing moved.

“I must be hearing things,” Mohan said to himself. “And now I’m talking to myself too.”

With a laugh, he sat down again and rested his back against the round stone.

“Shall I tell you a story?” asked the deep voice again.

Mohan sprang to his feet and shouted “All right, that’s enough. Show yourself now!”

Again, the clearing was silent and nothing moved.

Then Mohan looked at the round stone he’d been resting against. He could see a face in it. He realised it was the stone’s voice he’d heard.

“Who are you, and what are you?” asked Mohan.

“I am grandfather stone. I’ve been here since time began,” answered the stone.

“Shall I tell you a story?” asked the deep rumbling voice.

“What is a story?” asked Mohan. “What does it mean to tell a story?”

“Stories tell us of all things that happened before this time,” answered grandfather stone. “Give me a gift of your birds and I will tell you how the world came to be.”

“You may have the birds,” said Mohan.

He sat down in front of the stone. Its deep voice told him of a time before this one, how the world came into being. When he finished one story, the stone told another and then another. On and on he went.

As the sun began to set the stone said, “That’s enough for today. Come back tomorrow and I will tell you more stories. But don’t tell anyone about what you’ve heard today.”

Mohan ran back to the village. He managed to kill a few birds on the way to trade for hot food and parched corn.

When he traded the birds with a woman in the village she asked him “Why have you brought back so few birds from your hunting?”

“Winter is getting nearer and it’s harder to find anything to hunt,” answered Mohan.

Early the next morning, Mohan went into the woods with his bow and arrow. He hunted for birds and then rushed back to the clearing.

“Grandfather stone, I’ve brought you more birds as gifts,” said Mohan. He put the birds down on the flat stone. “Please tell me some more stories.”

Mohan sat down and the stone started telling one story after another until it was nearly nightfall. This happened for many days. Mohan brought back fewer and fewer birds to the village. The children of the village were even crueller to him. They made fun of him and told him that now he wasn’t even a good hunter.

One day Mohan came to the clearing, placed his gift on the stone and said, “Grandfather stone, please tell me some more stories.”

But the stone answered, “I have no more stories to tell. You have heard all that has happened before this time. Now you must pass on the knowledge you have learned from the stories. You will be the first storyteller.

You must tell others what you have heard, and also add stories of what happens from now on. The people you tell will remember your stories. Some will remember better than others. Some will tell different versions when they pass them on. It doesn’t matter. The truths and lessons from the stories will be remembered.”

“Thank you grandfather stone,” said Mohan. “I will make sure the stories are not forgotten.”

Mohan went back to the village. He knew it was time to move on. The people here didn’t respect him and wouldn’t listen. He collected his few belongings and left the village without telling anyone. No one missed him.

Mohan travelled far and eventually came to another village. The people welcomed him warmly. They invited him to come in out of the cold wind, sit by the fire and share their food.

After he had finished eating Mohan said, “You have been so kind I’d like to share something with you.”

He began to tell the stories he had learned from grandfather stone. He told them of the time when animals could speak, and when the turtle raced the bear.

That night the lodge house seemed warmer and the sound of the first storyteller’s voice could be heard above the howling wind outside. People went to sleep dreaming of the stories they had heard.

The chief of the village sent runners to other villages, inviting everyone to come and hear the stories. They brought gifts of food and clothing for Mohan to thank him. A beautiful young woman came and sat by him every time he spoke. She listened to every story. Many seasons passed. Mohan stayed in the village and married the young woman.

When he had shared all the stories with the people of the village and its neighbours, Mohan and his wife left and travelled to other villages further away, to tell the stories.

Eventually they came to the first village where he had lived before. The people didn’t recognise him in his fine clothes and with his beautiful wife.

The village chief welcomed them, inviting them to sit by the fire and share their food. Mohan told his stories. The people listened with their ears and their hearts.

Mohan told them, “You must not forget the stories and legends. You must pass them on to your children and your grandchildren, and they must pass them onto theirs. We can never again forget the stories and their wisdom.”

And that is how it has been from that day to this. The stories from grandfather stone have been handed down from generation to generation and storytellers are still honoured today by those who listen.

Mohan and Sohan left their village and headed for a big city in search of work. They found well-paying jobs and were very happy. A year later, they lost their jobs due to the recession. Instead of rushing back to their village, they stayed put in the big city hoping they would find work again. In a few months, all their money was finished. They were left with just enough money to pay for their fare back home. So they started the long journey. After 36 hours of train journey, there was 6 hours of bus journey followed by another 12 hours of trek up a hill before they could make it to their village.

After the bus journey, their money was finished and they were hungry. As they passed a village, the villagers were unwilling to share any food with the hungry travellers because of the recession.

The travellers then filled a pot with water, dropped a large stone in it, and placed it over a fire in the village square. One of the villagers became curious and asked what they were doing. The travellers answered that they were making “stone soup”, which tasted wonderful, although it still needed a little bit of garnish to improve the flavor, which they didn’t have. The villager didn’t mind parting with just a little bit to help them out, so it got added to the soup. Another villager walked by, inquiring about the pot, and the travellers again mentioned their stone soup which hadn’t reached its full potential yet. The villager handed them a little bit of seasoning to help them out. More and more villagers walked by, each adding another ingredient. Finally, a delicious and nourishing pot of soup was enjoyed by all.

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There was a cowherd Mohan who took his cows to the meadows every morning and brought them back to the cowshed at the end of the day. One evening, as he was tying the cows up for the night, he found that one of them was missing her rope. He feared that she might run away, but it was too late to go and buy a new rope. He didn’t know what to do, so he went to a wise man who lived next door and sought his advice. The wise man told him to pretend to tie the cow, and make sure that the cow saw him doing it. Mohan did as the wise man suggested and pretended to tie the cow.

The next morning Mohan discovered that the cow had remained still throughout the night. He untied all the cows as usual, and they all went outside. He was about to go to the meadows when he noticed that the cow with the missing rope was still in the cowshed. She was standing on the same spot where she had been all night. He tried to coax her to join the herd, but she wouldn’t budge. Mohan was perplexed. He went back to the wise man who said, “The cow still thinks she is tied up. Go back and pretend to untie her.” Mohan did as he was told, and the cow happily left the cowshed.

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Jasmine had a precious necklace. Once in her excitement she forgot that she had it round her neck and looked into her cupboard to find it. When she could not find it in the cupboard, she thought that the necklace was lost. She became anxious and looked for it everywhere in her home but could not find it. She asked friends and neighbours if they knew anything about the lost necklace. They did not. At last her friend Lily told her to feel the necklace round her neck. Jasmine found that it had all along been round her neck and she was overjoyed. Her face glowed with excitement as she hugged Lily.

Lily said, “You are so happy. It seems you have found a new necklace.”

Jasmine smiled.

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Mohan nearly fell into a pool one day. Sohan, who was nearby, saved him. Then onwards, every time they met, Sohan would remind Mohan of the great service that he had performed.

Mohan got annoyed at this behaviour. Then one day, he took Sohan to the water, jumped in, stood with his head just above the water and shouted, “Now I am as wet as I would have been if you had not saved me. Now please don’t remind me of the service performed by you.”

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Jasmine was going to the market to buy vegetables. On the way she met Lily.

“Where are you going?” asked Lily.

“Wherever my legs take me,” replied Jasmine.

Lily pondered over the answer but could not think of anything to say. When she returned home she reported the conversation to her mother who was a teacher. Mother said: “You should have asked her what she would do if she had no legs.”

The next day Lily was thrilled to see Jasmine coming towards her.

“Where are you going?” Lily asked and without waiting for a reply continued, “Wherever your legs take you, I suppose. Well, let me ask you . . .”

“You’re mistaken,” interrupted Jasmine. “Today I’m going wherever the wind blows.”

This answer so confused Lily that she could not think of anything to say.

When she reported the matter to her mother, she said: “You should have asked her what she would do if there were no wind.”

The next day Lily saw Jasmine in the market again and rushed to confront her, confident that this time she would have the last word.

“Where are you going?” Lily asked. “Wherever your legs take you or wherever the wind blows? Well, let me ask you . . . ”

“No, no,”  interrupted Jasmine. “Today I’m going to buy vegetables.”

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Sohan was a young boy. It was his first time flying a kite, so his father helped him – and after several attempts the kite was in the air. Sohan ran and let out more string, and soon the kite was flying high. He was so excited; the kite was beautiful. Eventually there was no more string left to allow the kite to go higher.

Sohan said to his father,”Daddy, let’s cut the string and let the kite go; I want to see it go higher and higher.”

His father said, “Son, the kite won’t go higher if we cut the string.”

“Yes, it will,” responded Sohan. “The string is holding the kite down; I can feel it.”

The father handed a pocketknife to his son. Sohan cut the string. In a matter of seconds the kite was out of control. It darted here and there and finally landed in a broken heap. That was difficult for the boy to understand. He felt certain the string was holding the kite down.

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There was once a stone cutter Mohan who was dissatisfied with himself and with his position in life.

One day he passed a wealthy merchant’s house. Through the open gateway, he saw many fine possessions and important visitors. “How powerful that merchant must be!” thought Mohan. He became very envious and wished that he could be like the merchant.

To his great surprise, he suddenly became the merchant, enjoying more luxuries and power than he had ever imagined, but envied and detested by those less wealthy than himself. Soon a high official passed by, carried in a sedan chair, accompanied by attendants and escorted by soldiers beating gongs. Everyone, no matter how wealthy, had to bow low before the procession. “How powerful that official is!” he thought. “I wish that I could be a high official!”

Then he became the high official, carried everywhere in his embroidered sedan chair, feared and hated by the people all around. It was a hot summer day, so the official felt very uncomfortable in the sticky sedan chair. He looked up at the sun. It shone proudly in the sky, unaffected by his presence. “How powerful the sun is!” he thought. “I wish that I could be the sun!”

Then he became the sun, shining fiercely down on everyone, scorching the fields, cursed by the farmers and labourers. But a huge black cloud moved between him and the earth, so that his light could no longer shine on everything below. “How powerful that storm cloud is!” he thought. “I wish that I could be a cloud!”

Then he became the cloud, flooding the fields and villages, shouted at by everyone. But soon he found that he was being pushed away by some great force, and realized that it was the wind. “How powerful it is!” he thought. “I wish that I could be the wind!”

Then he became the wind, blowing tiles off the roofs of houses, uprooting trees, feared and hated by all below him. But after a while, he ran up against something that would not move, no matter how forcefully he blew against it – a huge, towering rock. “How powerful that rock is!” he thought. “I wish that I could be a rock!”

Then he became the rock, more powerful than anything else on earth. But as he stood there, he heard the sound of a hammer pounding a chisel into the hard surface, and felt himself being changed. “What could be more powerful than I, the rock?” he thought.

Mohan looked down and saw far below him the figure of a stone cutter.

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Mohan once met a swordsman Sohan who had had more than thirty sword fights without once being defeated. Mohan asked him where he had learned his skill. Sohan replied that he was entirely self-taught.

Mohan asked, “Then how come you are so successful?”

Sohan said, “As soon as the fight begins I get close enough to touch the tip of my enemy’s sword with my own. If he holds his sword stiffly I know I can win easily, but if he holds his sword in a flexible grip, I don’t take the risk of a fight. If I meet such a man I just run away and thus remain undefeated.”

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One day Lily and Jasmine were walking by a river.

“Look at the fish swimming about,” said Lily, “They are really enjoying themselves.”

“You are not a fish,” replied Jasmine, “So you can’t truly know that they are enjoying themselves.”

“You are not me,” said Lily. “So how do you know that I do not know that the fish are enjoying themselves?”

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Lily once dreamt that she was a butterfly fluttering here and there. In the dream, she had no awareness of her individuality as a girl. Suddenly, she woke up and thought to herself, “Am I a girl who dreamt about being a butterfly, or am I a butterfly who is now dreaming about being a girl?”

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