In the forest was a holy man, a Brahmin. He sat cross legged outside his hut praying. The palms of his hands pressed close together in front of his face.
Three noises broke the silence: The first the caw of a disappointed crow; the second the squeak of a frightened mouse; the third was the whistle of something descending rapidly through the air from above.
The Brahmin opened his hands, palms facing up towards the sky. He felt a small, soft, furry body fall into them.
“And…”, said the Brahmin.
“And…”, said the mouse, “I was in my nest with my family when the crows attacked. They took my mother and father and all my brothers and sisters, and one flew down and grabbed me in his beak.”
“And…”, said the Brahmin, “the rest we know. Sometimes it is a bad thing to open your mouth to talk; bad, this time, for a crow, but things seem to have worked out not so bad for you my little friend.”
“I am a small and helpless mouse with no family to look after me. Take me as your pet and care for me.”
The Brahmin’s heart was touched. He made a special nest for the mouse in the corner of his hut and devoted himself to the task of looking after the mouse.
Under the Brahmin’s care the mouse grew in size and confidence. The mouse soon strayed from the Brahmin’s hut exploring the forest. The bolder he became the more certain that our story has to move on.
The Brahmin sat cross legged outside his hut praying. The palms of his hands pressed close together in front of his face.
Three noises broke the silence: The first was the yowl of an excited cat; the second the squeak of a frightened mouse; the third was the puffing and panting of that same mouse as he ran towards the hut.
“And…”, said the Brahmin, seeing that the mouse would be caught before he could reach the safety of the hut, “those who stray so far need the power to protect themselves.”
He slowly opened his hands and the mouse became a fierce mousecat who turned on his pursuer and let out a blood-thirsty meow that sent the cat running, tail down, back into the forest.
“And…”, said the Brahmin.
“And…”, said the mousecat, “I shall take better care, and remember who I am.”
Under the Brahmin’s care the mousecat grew in size and confidence. The mousecat soon strayed from the Brahmin’s forest exploring the villages that lay outside. The bolder he became the more certain that our story has to move on.
