STORY TSUNAMI
Official website: http://www.StoryTsunami.org

The organizer of these benefit performances is: Lee-Ellen Marvin

[The stories below may be adapted and used at upcoming Story Tsunami events. The only requirement is that you acknowledge and credit the contributor. If you wish to use them again later, you should contact the contributor for permission.]

This is a compilation of stories from the areas affected by the recent 2004 earthquake and tsunami honoring their many contributions to the rich literature of the storytelling world. This compilation is intended to provide stories from those areas for tellers to use as they participate in benefit performances to raise funds to assist the survivors of the disaster.

The countries / islands involved are:
Andaman and Nicobar Islands
India
Indonesia
Maldives (1192 islands)
Somalia
Sri Lanka
Thailand

If you know of any stories that originated in these areas or specifically about tsunamis, please e-mail them to Story-Lovers at bubbul@vom.com. I will post them to this webpage as soon as possible.
Thanks.
Jackie Baldwin

Contributors:
Karen Chace
Linda Conte
Heather Forest
Steve Goodier
Marcia Gutiérrez
David Holt
Margaret Read MacDonald
Lee-Ellen Marvin
Kathy Mincz
Norman Perrin
Regina Ress
Aaron Shepard
Dvora Shurman
Cathy Spagnoli
Denise Valentine

A TSUNAMI BLESSING AND PRAYER
In light of this week's tsunami devastation, the following blessing is offered as a prayer for those of various faiths. May it be useful as we move into a new year together.
Blessing
Blessed are those who mourn for the tsunami's victims; may they find comfort in their pain and hope in their helplessness.

Blessed are those who found a way to survive; may they now find sufficient strength and healing as they reassemble the scattered pieces of shattered lives.

Blessed are those who tirelessly strive to give relief; may they be amply encouraged in their valiant efforts.

Blessed are those who generously give money and supplies...may they know the deep satisfaction of having made a difference.

Blessed are those in every nation who unite now in compassionate service and love; may they show us what it means to be family.
•••••
From the Internet
Contributed by Karen Chace
http://www.storybug.net/

A Man Who Stood Before God
There is a story of a man who once stood before God, his heart breaking from the pain and injustice in the world. 'Dear God,' he cried out, 'Look at all the suffering, the anguish and distress in the world. Why don't you send help?' God responded, 'I did send help. I sent you.'
-David J. Wolpe, sent in to the Internet by Grant F. Tiefenbruck
•••••
Contributed by Steve Goodier
http://www.lifesupportsystem.com


Story Collections:

Folktales of India- Edited by Beck, Brenda E.F., Claus, Peter. J., Goswami, Praphulladatta, Handoo, Jawaharlal. University of Chicago Press, 1987. (J 398.2 F)

Jasmine and Coconuts: South Indian Tales – Spagnoli, Cathy and Samanna, Paramasivam. Libraries Unlimited,Inc, 1999. (J 398.2 S)

Folk Stories of the Hmong: Peoples of Laos, Thailand and Vietnam – Livo, Norma J. and Cha, Dia. Libraries Unlimited, Inc, 1991. (J 398.2 F).

The Wonderful Wooden Peacock Flying Machine and Other Tales of Ceylon. Retold by Tooze, Ruth. The John Day Company, 1969. (J 398.2 T)

The Serpent Prince: Folktales from Northeastern Thailand, Krueger, Kermit. World Publishing Company, 1969. (J 398.2 K)


Individual Folktales/Picture Book Fairy Tales:

The Gift of the Crocodile: A Cinderella Story (Spice Islands in Indonesia): by Sierra, Judy. Simon and Schuster, 2000. (J 398.2 S).

The Quail's Egg (Sri Lanka) – Troughton, Joanna. Peter Bedrick Books, 1988. (J 398.24 T).

Individual Stories from Collections:

"I Don’t Want to Be a Buffalo,” “The Rabbit and the Moon,” from A World of Children’s Stories. Pellowski, Anne. Friendship Press, 1993. (J 398.2 W). (both stories are from Thailand)

“The Cake Tree” From Can You Guess My Name? Traditional Tales Around the World. Sierra, Judy. Clarion Books: 2002. (J 398.2 S). (Sri Lanka)

“Admirable Hare” From The Golden Hoard: Myths and Legends of the World. McCaughrean. Margaret K. McElderry Books, 1995. (J 398.3 M). (Ceylon/Sri Lanka)


Book suggestions from the Four Winds Storytellers Library, Toronto [3,000 + volumes]
[from Norman Perrin]

India
(The) Beautiful Blue Jay, John Spellman Little Brown 1967
(The) Demons of Rajpur, Betsy Bang Greenwillow 1980
(A) Flowering Tree, A.K. Ramanujan University of California 1997
Folk Tales of India, Lee Wyndham Bobbs-Merril 1962
Folktales of India, Brenda E.F. Beck Chicago1987
(The) Hungry Tigress, Rafe Martin Shambala 1984
Mondays on the Dark Side of the Moon, Kirin Narayan Oxford 1997
(The) Talkative Beasts, Gwendolyn Reed Lothrop 1967

India Picture Books
Elephant in a Well, Marie Hall Ets Viking 1972
(The) Magic Cooking Pot, Pb Faith M. Towle Houghton Mifflin 1975
Tip for Tap, Ann Kirn Norton 1970

Indonesia
Far East Stories, E.W. Dolch Garrard Indonesia, India
Folk Tales from Indonesia, S.D.B. Penerbit Djjambatan 1982
Folk Tales from Irian Jaya, Suyai Pratomo, Balai Pustaka 1983
How the Mouse Deer Became King, Margaritte Harmon Bro, Doubleday 1966
Indonesian Folk Tales, A. Koutsoukis Rigby 1970
Kantchil's Lime Pit, Harold Courlander Harcourt Brace 1950
Mythology of All Races, Roland Dixon Marshall Jones 1916 Indonesia, Melanasia

Malaysia
Folk Tales of Malaysia, Zakaria bin Hitam Sterling1979
Malay Myths and Legends, Jan Knappert Heinemann 1980

Somalia
Folktales from Somalia, Ahmed Hanghe, Scandinavian Institute of African Studies 1988
(A) Tree for Poverty, Margaret Laurence, McMaster University Press 1993
Single stories in:
African Stories, Robert Hull Wayland 1992
The Kings's Drum, Harold CourLander Harcourt 1962

Sri Lanka [Ceylon]
(The) Adventures of Andare, the Court Jester, Vijita Fernando, Typeforce 2002
(The) Elephant's Bathtub, Frances Carpenter Doubleday 1962 (other countries, too)
Three Tales of Monkey, Ruth Tooze John Day 1967 Bali, Sri Lanka
(The) Tiger's Whisker, Harold Courlander Methuen1960 Java, Sri Lanka, Indonesia
Mahadenamutta, the Old Man Who Knew Everytthing, Vijita Fernando Typeforce 2002
Village Folk Tales of Ceylon 3 Vol., Henry Parker, Arno Press 1977

Thailand
Folk Tales from Siam [Thailand], Alan Feinstein Barnes 1969
Folk Tales of Thailand, P.C. Roy Chaudhury Sterling 1976
Folktales from the Land of Smiles, Andrew Coombs Suk Soongswang Pub. 1994
(The) Golden Swans Pb, Kermit Krueger, World Pub 1969
Kao and the Golden Fish, Wilai Punpattanukal-Crouch, Cheryl Hamada, Children's Press
Tales from Thailand, Marian Davies Toth, Tuttle 1982

The Butterfly Peace Garden
Since 1996 The Butterfly Peace Garden of Batticaloa, Sri Lanka has been a garden of reconciliation and healing for war-affected and traumatized children from the Batticaloa district of Sri Lanka's Eastern Province. Through painting. storytelling, theatre and ritual, Tamil, Muslim, Hindu and Christian children work with artist animators to create a small zone of peace, seeking to lay the foundation of peace for future generations.
Since the Dec. 26 tsunami, the Butterfly Peace Garden staff have been helping many of the 280,000 refugees that have come to Batticaloa.
Website for The Butterfly Peace Garden:
http://www.thestupidschool.ca/bpg/index.htm

List of Countries with Full-Text Stories:
(Note: To get to the story you want, use your Find Command (usually Command F or Control F), key in a few words from the title, click Enter/Return)

Andaman and Nicobar Islands
...Story of the Flood (2versions)

India
...A Story to End All Stories
...The Man Behind the Mask
...Who Will Win?
...Birbal
...Tenali Raman
...The Perfect Sword
...Siddhartha Encounters the World
...Avvai
...A Faithful Friend
...A Ruby Returned
...The Right Note
...Asian Telling Styles (for a better understanding of how to tell these tales)
...The Lion and the Rabbit
...A Flock of Birds
...The Talkative Turtle
...The Monkey and the Pea
...The Traveler and the Nut Tree
...Three Fish
...Who is King of the Forest?
...The Brave Little Parrot
...One-Eyed Turtle Sitting on a Sandlewood Log

Indonesia
...Sikintan
...Princess Pinang Masak (2 versions)
...The Spoiled Little Kitten
...Si Kabayan
...The Adventures of Mouse Deer
...The Golden Snail
...The Learned Men

Sri Lanka
...(The) Frog Prince
...Mama Bird and Her Babies
...(The) Trial at Avichara

Thailand
...(The) Elephant and the Bees
...(The) Freedom Bird
...If It Belongs to Us, It Will Come to Us
...(The) Freedom Bird
...(The) Singing Ape of Thailand
...(The) Star Stories of Thailand

Stories About Tsunamis
Japan
...(The) Burning Fields (2 versions)



STORIES FROM AND INFORMATION ABOUT ANDAMAN-NICOBAR ISLANDS:
1) ANDAMAN-NICOBAR ISLANDS
Information and lots of pictures about the Andaman-Nicobar Islands
http://www.geocities.com/sujatharatnala/travel.htm
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2) ANDAMAN-NICOBAR ISLANDS
More information on Andaman-Nicobar Islands and their tribes — post tsunami
http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/f-news/1309884/posts
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3) ANDAMAN-NICOBAR ISLANDS
Sindbad the Sailor -- Encyclopædia Britannica
... the seventh voyage may have been from the Andaman Islands. ... Nights, The collection of Oriental stories of uncertain ... have almost become part of Western folklore. ...
You can get the whole story by taking a free trial membership...
http://www.britannica.com/eb/article?tocId=906790
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4) ANDAMAN-NICOBAR ISLANDS
Thunderstones and Shooting Stars: Meteors and Meteorites in Folklore
Excerpt: "To the folks from the Andaman Islands, meteors were torches carried by evil spirits of the forest as they hunted for men...."
http://starryskies.com/The_sky/events/meteors/thunderstones-shootingstars.html
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5) ANDAMAN-NICOBAR ISLANDS
Story of the Flood from the Andaman Islands plus more information and analysis.
Here is another story. The primitive inhabitants of the Andaman Islands in the Bay of Bengal also have an account of the Flood. (2)
     Sometime after they had been created, men grew disobedient and disregarded the commands which the Creator had given them. In anger he sent a great flood which covered everything except Saddle Peak, where the Creator himself resided.
     Every living creature, man and animal, perished in the water save for two men and two women who happened at the time to be in a canoe and contrived to escape with their lives. When at last the waters sank, the little company landed but found themselves in a sad plight, since all other living creatures were drowned. However, the Creator, whose name was Pulga, kindly helped them by creating animals and birds afresh for their use. Yet the difficulty remained of lighting a fire, for the flood had extinguished every fire on every hearth and everything was very damp.
     Whereupon, the ghost of one of their friends who had been drowned in the deluge, seeing their distress, flew in the form of a kingfisher into the sky, where he found the Creator seated beside his fire. Here he tried to grab a burning brand, hoping to carry it off in his beak for his friends on earth. But in his haste he dropped it on the august person of the Creator himself, who was greatly incensed at the indignity and, smarting with pain, hurled the blazing brand at the bird. It missed its mark and, whizzing past him, dropped plumb from the sky at the very spot where the four people were seated moaning and shivering. That is how mankind received the use of fire after the Great Flood. Subsequently the Creator condescended to explain to them that men had brought the Great Flood upon themselves by willful disobedience to his commands. That was the last time that the Creator ever appeared to men to converse with them face to face. Since then the Andaman Islanders have never seen him, but they still live in fear of him.
•••••
(2) Frazer, James G., Folklore in the Old Testament, Macmillan, London, 1919, vol.1, p.233.
http://custance.org/Library/Volume9/Part_II/chapter1.html
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6) ANDAMAN-NICOBAR ISLANDS
Andaman Islands (Bay of Bengal):
(another version of the Flood story, #6 above)
Some time after their creation, men grew disobedient. In anger, Puluga, the Creator, sent a flood which covered the whole land, except perhaps Saddle Peak where Puluga himself resided. Of all creatures, the only survivors were two men and two women who had the fortune to be in a canoe when the flood came. The waters sank and they landed, but they found themselves in a sad plight. Puluga recreated birds and animals for their use, but the world was still damp and without fire. The ghost of one of the peoples' friends took the form of a kingfisher and tried to steal a brand from Puluga's fire, but he accidentally dropped it on the Creator. Incensed, Puluga hurled the brand at the bird, but it missed and landed where the four flood survivors were seated. After the people had warmed themselves and had leisure to reflect, they began to murmur against the Creator and even plotted to murder him. However, the Creator warned them away from such rash action, explained that men had brought the flood on themselves by their disobedience, and that another such offense would likewise be met with punishment. That was the last time the Creator spoke with men face to face. [Gaster, pp. 104-105]
http://www.talkorigins.org/faqs/flood-myths.html#AndamanIs
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STORIES FROM AND INFORMATION ABOUT INDIA:
1) INDIA
A Story to End All Stories (a story from India from a collection of 77 stories)
Story: A certain king was enormously learned. He knew all the arts. Once, on a whim, he sent word through his provinces that he would give a reward of a thousand rupees to anyone who could tire him out with a story; if he ever got bored and stopped saying “Hmm, hmm” to the story, he would admit defeat and pay up.

Learned pundits came to his court from over a hundred places, told him story after story till they got tired and sick. He continued to say “Hmm, hmm” every sentence of their telling. He never tired of it.

Finally a pundit came from the north. He told the clever king many long and involved stories. The king enjoyed them all and never once showed any sign of fatigue. The pundit exhausted himself and felt defeated. His face fell. One day, as he was walking away from the palace, utterly dejected, he met an old friend who asked him, “Why do you look so depressed?”

The pundit was happy to see him and unburdened himself of the whole story. The friend said, “Is that all? Cheer up. Take me with you tomorrow and I'll defeat him.”

In spite of all the pundit's protests, the friend went with him to see the king, who gave him permission to begin a new story, and so he began one.

“Once upon a time, in a certain town, there lived a king. Near the town was a big pond. On its bank was a huge banyan tree. Right under it, a farmer had stored all his ragi grain in several kanajas (grain containers) after harvesting and threshing the ragi. Thousands of sparrows lived in the banyan tree. Every sparrow would eat a grain, take a small drink of water in the pond, and fly back to perch on the tree. There were twenty enormous kanajas filled with grain. Each day, a sparrow would fly down, eat a grain, take a small drink of water, and fly back to the tree. Then the next sparrow would fly down, eat a grain, take a small drink of water, and fly back to the tree,” and so on.

And he went on like this for hours. The king began to get tired of saying “Hmm, hmm, hmm” to every sentence of the story. Every day, after the morning bath and food, they would gather for the story, which never seemed to end.

Again the storyteller resumed: “The grains of ragi were not exhausted. The sparrows continued to eat. One of them would eat a grain, drink the water, and go back to the tree. Then the next one would eat a grain, take a drink …,” and so on.

The king was disgusted. “ Thu, this fellow is repeating himself over and over. How can I keep on saying ‘Hmm, hmm’ to him?” he wondered wearily. Finally he asked the storyteller, “For days you've been telling me the story. Tell me, by now, how many kanajas of grain got empty?”

“Ayyo, my lord, in all that I've told you these many days, not even one quarter of a kanaja was eaten by the sparrows. There's so much more left for the sparrows to eat and for me to tell. So one of them ate a grain, drank the water, and went back to the tree. And then the next one …,” and so on.

The king's heart sank. For days, he had hardly been able to attend to any of his household or state affairs. “When will all the twenty kanajas get over? Ayyo, ayyo, how many more days will it take? How long, O lord!” he cried within himself. He was afraid he would be stuck with saying “Hmm, hmm” for months. So he said to the storyteller, “You win. You're a great storyteller. With your story, you've brought me the biggest headache of my life. You've achieved something that none of the great pundits could achieve with their beautiful stories. You're greater than all.”

Then he gave the man his reward of a thousand rupees and was happy to see the pair of them go.

As soon as they were outside, the two friends skipped with joy that they had taught a foolish king a lesson. “We've done it,” they said. “Never more will he trouble a learned man or a storyteller.”
•••••
Source:
A Flowering Tree and Other Oral Tales from India by A. K. Ramanujan includes 77 stories:
http://ark.cdlib.org/ark:/13030/ft067n99wt/
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Book available for sale: http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/0520203992/ref=ase_kamatspotpourri/104-5343349-3291948?v=glance&s=books

2) INDIA
The Man Behind the Mask
[This legend is a favorite of Indian Prime Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee (1999)]
Story: A king in ancient India accidentally cuts off a finger and summons his wazir, or prime minister, for advice. "Whatever happens is for the good," says the wazir. Angered by his deputy's insulting fatalism, the king fires him. A few days later, the ruler is out hunting alone when he is captured by a band of savages. They are preparing to sacrifice him to the gods when one of them notices the king's missing digit. According to the rules, only people with intact limbs can be sacrificed. The king is set free. Struck by the wazir's prophecy, the monarch reinstates him but asks: If everything happens for the best, what good could have possibly come from your dismissal? "My lord," the adviser replies, "if I had been serving you, I would have accompanied you to the hunt and been sacrificed in your place."
Source:
http://www.asiaweek.com/asiaweek/magazine/99/1022/vajpayee.html
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3) INDIA
Stories from India (231)
http://www.traveljournals.net/stories/india/
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4) INDIA
Who Will Win - a tale from India
Story: Siva, the wise father of Ganesh, once called to his two sons and suggested a small contest.

“I will give this sweet to whoever goes around the world the fastest,” he said, holding out a large, delicious milk sweet. Murugan, Ganesh’s brother, glowed with pride knowing the prize would soon be his. For he could fly swiftly in his chariot, circle the earth, and be back in only hours, while his big, clumsy brother Ganesh would take so much longer to do the same.

Bidding farewell to his parents, Murugan set off happily. Ganesh thought for a moment, then smiled and began to move. His large elephant head with its heavy trunk did slow him down, but he did not have far to go. For he simply walked carefully around both of his parents. In a few minutes he had circled them and stood respectfully in front of his father once again.

“Father, please give me the prize,” he said.

“Why? You did not go around the world, you stayed right here,” replied Siva.

“But father,” argued Ganesh, “I have just gone around the world. You see, my parents are indeed the whole world to me.” His parents smiled, well pleased.

Much later, a tired Murugan returned home. However, the prize was already eaten up. And now you know who won it and why.
•••••
Contributed by
Cathy Spagnoli
http://www.cathyspagnoli.com/asiatell/index.htm
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5) INDIA
Birbal - a tale from northern India
Story: One night when her husband was out visiting friends, Birbal’s wife went to sleep quite early. Hours later, she awoke when she heard a loud noise in the next room.

“What was that?” she cried.

“Nothing much,” replied Birbal. “It was only my clothes. They fell down.”

“But how could your clothes make such a heavy noise?” she asked.

“Because I was in them.”
•••••
Contributed by
Cathy Spagnoli
http://www.cathyspagnoli.com/asiatell/index.htm
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6) INDIA
Tenali Raman - a tale from southern India
Story: One warm evening, Tenali Raman came home and saw three thieves hiding in the bushes, watching his house. He went inside, winked at his wife, then shouted, “Wife, we must be careful. There are thieves in the city. Let’s put all our valuables in that big chest and hide it in the well tonight. Everything will be safe there.”

His clever wife replied at once,“What a good idea. We’ll do it right away.”

In no time, the old chest was filled, but not with jewels — with brick bits and heavy pots. Groaning and moaning, the couple pushed it out and into the well. They went back inside and soon the house grew dark and quiet. In the garden, the three thieves were most pleased.

“How easy they made it for us,” said one. “Now we can empty the well while they sleep, then remove the chest.”

Eagerly, the three took turns pulling up the well bucket and pouring the water nearby. From inside his house, Tenali Raman watched them empty bucket after bucket, all on his dry garden. The thieves worked for hours until at dawn they were ready to remove the chest.

Just then, Tenali Raman called out, “Thank you so much for watering my garden. Please pull up that chest of junk, too, before the guards come to arrest you.”

Shocked and scared, the thieves raced from the garden, faster than bees. Tenali Rama watched with a grin then went to enjoy a good cup of chai.
•••••
Contributed by
Cathy Spagnoli
http://www.cathyspagnoli.com/asiatell/index.htm
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7) INDIA
The Perfect Sword - a tale from India
Story: An American, a Russian, and an Indian were working together once in a metal factory. One day, the American made a good, sharp sword blade and showed it proudly to the others. Next, the Russian went to his workbench, sculpted a wonderful sword handle, and attached it firmly to the sword.

The Indian, not knowing what else he could add, thought for a moment, then quickly picked up the sword and carved across the blade in large letters, “Made in India.”
•••••
Contributed by
Cathy Spagnoli
http://www.cathyspagnoli.com/asiatell/index.htm
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8) INDIA
Siddhartha Encounters the World - from India
[Retold by Margaret Read MacDonald from these sources: The Hungry Tigress: Buddhist Legends & Jataka Tales by Rafe Martin. Parallax Press, 1990 and Asvghosa’s The Buddhacarita or Acts of the Budddha by E. H. Johnston, Motilal Banarsidass, 1936.]
Story: In all of his life, Prince Siddhartha had seen nothing but beauty and happiness. He had three palaces. One for the cold season, one for the hot season, and one for the rainy season. The prince spent his entire life within palaces. He grew up, married, and had a son. Still he knew nothing of the real world.

One day Siddhartha heard the women singing of beautiful forests beyond the city. This was something he had to see. He made plans for an outing to the Padmasanda Grove.

When the King heard of this, he sent word that every old, or sick person should be hidden away from the route the prince would take. Only the young and beautiful should be allowed along that route.

So when the prince rode out in his golden chariot, the streets were lined with beautiful people. The roads were strewn with purple lotus blossoms, the city bright with flowers.
How happy Prince Siddhartha felt to be prince of this beautiful kingdom.

But suddenly, an old man stepped in front of his chariot. He was bent and frail.
Even with a cane he could hardly walk.

“Stop the chariot!
What sort of man is this? I have never seen such a feeble creature.”

His chariot-driver replied, “Why this is old-age.
All men become like this in the end.”

“You mean I will become like this?”

“Yes, of course. In time.”

“How can I go on a picnic when such things exit in the world?”
Back to the palace!”

The charioteer whirled the golden chariot around and they raced back to the palace.

Sometime later, the prince thought again that an excursion to the grove might be fun.
Again the King sent out word to remove all old and ill people from his route.
Again the streets were strewn with flowers and lined with beautiful young people.
The prince smiled as he drove through the streets in his golden chariot.
But then . . .
A very sick man staggered in front of the chariot.

“Stop the chariot!”
What sort of person is this?
His body is covered with sores.
He can hardly stand.”

“This is a man racked by disease,” said the chariot-driver.
“It is a misfortune which falls on many.”

“You mean other men also have such disease?”

“Yes, many men suffer this.”

“Back to the palace!”
The chariot-driver whirled the golden chariot about and sped back to the palace.

Yet once more the Prince decided to visit the forest grove.
Once more the King sent word for the way to be strewn with flowers and lined with smiling young people.
But just as the Prince was happily passing . . .
Four men stepped in front of his chariot . . . carrying a corpse.

“Stop the chariot!
What is THAT?”

“That is a dead man.
He no longer lives and breathes.
His body is being taken away.”

“Does this happen to other men too?”

“Yes. It happens to all men. Even you one day will die.”

“I cannot go play in the grove when such things are possible,” said the prince sadly.
“Back to the palace.”

But the chariot-driver did not obey.
The King had told him to take Prince Siddhartha on to the pleasure grove,
regardless of his commands.

And there the Prince sat under the beautiful trees
with nothing but sadness in his heart.

SIDDHARTHA VOWS TO ATTAIN ENLIGHTENMENT
After his encounters with old-age, disease, and death, Prince Siddhartha vowed to renounce his princely world and become a monk. He left the palace and entered the forest to live simply and meditate.

Siddhartha thought he could attain enlightenment by starving his body. At first he ate only one bowl of rice a day. Then half a bowl. Then a quarter bowl. Finally he was taking only one grain of rice each day as food.

He was very close to death. Then he remembered something. When he was only a small child he had once had a moment of clarity and great understanding. If he could come so close to enlightenment then as a well-clothed and well-fed baby, perhaps starvation was not the way.

He decided to eat again. At that very moment a young maiden from the village came to him offering milk-rice for his bowl. Siddhartha accepted the offering and ate.

Then weakly he made his way to the edge of the river and announced, “If this is the day of my Supreme

Enlightenment may the bowl float upstream.” And he threw his bowl into the water.

Immediately the bowl began to whirl upstream…until it reached whirlpool of Kala Naga Raja, The Black Snake King. And there it was sucked down, down and landed with a clink beside a row of identical bowls in the Naga King’s jeweled palace.

Now Prince Siddhartha knew that his enlightenment could be attained.
So he seated himself on a heap of freshly cut grass at the foot of a bo tree,
and began once more to meditate.

Notes: The many bowls in the palace of Kala Naga Raja remind that many have sought and attained enlightenment before Siddhartha.

Kala Naga Raja is not the same naga as Mucilinda, who sheltered the Buddha during his meditation and is depicted often in art.

MUCALINDA
When the Buddha attained enlightenment he continued to meditate for seven weeks.
During the second week he stood and gazed at the beautiful bo tree under which he was sitting when he received enlightenment.
But during the sixth week he sat by the side of a nearby lake.
While he was deep in meditation, a storm came up. Heavy rains fell and cold winds blew around him.

Seeing this, Mucalinda, a great naga, came from his dwelling and coiled his body seven times around the Buddha’s body to keep him warm. Then it spread its hood over Buddha’s head to protect him from the rain. The storm lasted for seven days. And when the rain stopped, the naga uncoiled itself and took the form of a young man and bowed to the Buddha.

Then the Buddha spoke saying:

“Happy are those who are content,
And those who have learned The Way and truly see.
Happy are those who have good will
toward all living creatures.

Happy are those who have no attachments
And those who have no desires.
But the disappearance of the word “I AM”
Is the greatest happiness.”
•••••
Section three of the life of Buddha story.
Shaped by Margaret Read MacDonald for the Asian Art Museum in San Fransisco.
•••••
Contributed by
Margaret Read MacDonald
http://www.margaretreadmacdonald.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=who.contact_me
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9 ) INDIA
[Asian tellers share stories of nature - of its beauty and power. Although modern problems of pollution plague many Asian nations, there is a tradition of care, of closeness to the natural world; nature is not something to be conquered, but something we can all learn from...
Avvai - a tasty tale of Indian recyling
[from Simple Wonders by Cathy Spagnoli and Paramasivam, Tulika Publishers, 2001]
Story:
The treasurer of Mysore Palace once arranged for a big dinner. Several hours before the dinner, he went through the royal kitchen, checking the preparations. In a corner, he saw a large basket of vegetable scraps.

“What is this?” he asked a cook.
“Trimmings from the vegetables - the end pieces and things we don’t need,” replied the cook.
“What will you do with them?” the treasurer asked.
“Throw them away. They’re of no use,” replied the cook.
“But you can’t simply waste all of these pieces,” said the wise treasurer. “You must find a way to use them.” With a stern look to go with his command, he then walked away.

The cook then stared at the bits and pieces and tried to think what to do. Finally, he took some coconut scraps to make a sauce with yogurt. Then he cleaned all of the vegetables and cut them into small pieces. He added some spices and cooked the mixture.

Later that evening he served his dish. Guests immediately loved it and asked its name. He called it, “Avvil.” From that day on, this easy-to-make dish was very popular in the palace and then elsewhere. And it all started from a basket of waste!
•••••
Contributed by
Cathy Spagnoli
http://www.cathyspagnoli.com/asiatell/index.htm
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10) INDIA
A Faithful Friend - an Indian parrot shows the strength of friendship
[from Jasmine and Coconuts by Spagnoli and Samanna, Libraries Unlimited, 1998.]
Story:
Once in a peaceful forest, a hunter walked, holding arrow tips dipped in a strong poison. He heard a sound, saw a deer leap out, and immediately he let loose an arrow. The arrow flew by the deer and hit instead a large, lovely tree. Annoyed at his miss, the hunter soon left the forest, never to return. But the arrow’s poison stayed in the tree, spreading quickly through it.

Soon, the life in the tree began to depart. Little by little, the tree started to die. In days, its leaves drooped sadly. Many of the creatures that lived in it began to move away, fearing death. More leaves fell and soon nothing was left on the wounded tree except for one small parrot. This parrot stayed, perched on a tree branch, even though there was no food to eat and no leaves to shelter him.

One day Indra, the king of heaven, saw a bright light surrounding a tree on the earth below. Curious, he went down and found a glow coming from a small parrot, who looked very weak and thin. Softly he said,“Dear bird, this tree is almost dead, it can no longer help you. Why do you stay on it? You may die if you don’t seek other shelter and food.”

“My lord,” said the parrot softly. “I was born in this tree, I ate my first food here. The tree has been my friend for so long, giving me both shelter and comfort. Now that it is weak and hurt, how can I go away? It helped me as I grew. I must now stay and help my friend as he leaves this earth.”

Indra, much impressed by the words and spirit of the kind parrot, smiled and said, “You know much about true friendship. I would like to grant you a boon, a blessing. What do you ask?”

“Great Indra,” replied the bird. “All that I ask is for my friend, the tree, to be brought back to full health once again.”

As soon as the words fell from the parrot’s beak, the tree began to recover. Brown leaves suddenly turned green, bark began to glisten, bent branches straightened proudly. And the happy parrot nestled closer to the tree, almost spinning round for joy, and rubbing his small body against the tree , as if to say, “Welcome back, dear friend.”
•••••
Contributed by
Cathy Spagnoli
http://www.cathyspagnoli.com/asiatell/index.htm
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11) INDIA
A Ruby Returned - wisdom from Judge Mariada Raman of South India
[from The World of Indian Stories by Cathy Spagnoli, Tulika, 2003]
Story:
In Tamil Nadu, where wise judge Mariada Raman lived, there was much trade with foreign lands. One day, a trader prepared for a journey, asking a nearby merchant to guard a large ruby. After four long years, the trader returned home empty-handed, desperate for his ruby. He went to the merchant, seeking his jewel.

“My dear sir, you are mistaken,” said the merchant. “I no longer have your ruby. Don’t you remember? I returned it to you last week.”

“You did no such thing,” cried the trader. “Give it to me now and don’t lie. Or else we’ll go to court.”

“It is you who lie,” said the merchant. “I have three witnesses who saw me return your precious ruby, so let us go before the judge to settle this.”

Unhappy and confused, the trader followed the merchant to Mariada Raman.

“Your honor,” said the trader. “Four years ago, before I left on a voyage, I trusted this merchant with my ruby. Today I went to claim it, but he refused to return it.”

The judge turned to the merchant and asked, “Is this correct?”

“Of course not, your honor,” said the merchant with a grin. “The man is lying and wasting your time. He did indeed place the ruby with me. I kept it faithfully for the four years. But last week, he came to me and I returned the ruby, in perfect condition.”

“Are there are witnesses to this?” asked the judge.

“Yes indeed,” the merchant replied. “My washerman, my barber, and the local potter all saw me return the gem.”

“Bring those men here,” ordered the judge. In a short while, the three men stood in court. Mariada Raman turned to them and asked, “Will each of you swear that you saw the merchant return a ruby to this man?”

One by one, the three witnesses spoke up, each vowing that he saw the return of the ruby. As they spoke, the trader’s face grew red and his breathing became fast and furious.

The judge gave quiet instructions to his servants, then said, “Now I want all five of you to step outside for a moment.” Each man was led to a separate room and told to make a clay model of the ruby. After some time, the men returned to the courtroom. All five clay rubies were then displayed to the judge. After staring at the five rather unusual pieces, Mariada Raman spoke.

“We will now prove the truth of this case,” he said. “Look at these models. Only two of them resemble rubies. They are the models done by the trader and the merchant, since both definitely saw the gem. However the other three pieces, made by the so-called witnesses, look nothing like jewels.

“These lying cheats have obviously never seen a ruby and so each made something familiar instead. The washerman’s clay looks like the edge of his washing stone. The barber’s seems like his sharpening stone, while the potter’s resembles a brick bit from his kiln. The guilt is clear, proven by the hands of those involved.”

He ordered the ruby to be returned at once to its rightful owner, and suitable punishment to be given to the four liars. Then, leaving the five clay rubies to sit as silent witnesses, the judge went home to enjoy a welcome rest.
•••••
Contributed by
Cathy Spagnoli
http://www.cathyspagnoli.com/asiatell/index.htm
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12) INDIA
The Right Note - an Indian lesson about pride
[from Tales of Asian Artists by Cathy Spagnoli, S.I.C.F./U. of Washington, 2002]
Story:
Hanuman, the great monkey god and devotee of Rama, was an accomplished musician. However, after some time, he grew too proud of his skill. One day, Rama decided that Hanuman needed to be taught a lesson. He took Hanuman deep into a forest, as if on a hunting trip. But nearby, unknown to Hanuman, lived a sage most famous for his great understanding of music. He had so devoted himself to his music that the seven notes of the scale, the septasvaras, took shape as his daughters.

As Rama rested with Hanuman, he asked him to play his vina. Too full of himself, Hanuman played a bit carelessly. As he played, the seven daughters were on their way to get water. Suddenly, Hanuman played a note out of tune. At once, one girl, who was this very note, fell dead to the ground. Bitterly weeping, her sisters ran to their father. He came and saw his child. Then he heard the vina. The same note was still played out of tune, over and over. In a rage, he picked up his daughter’s body and went to Hanuman.

“See what you have done with your carelessness, with your wrong note and your poor practice,” he cried. Hanuman, suitably humbled, at once passed the vina to the sage, begging forgiveness.

The saint played the same raga, but with greater care and with the skill of a lifetime. Each note was perfect. As the wrong note now sounded just right, the daughter opened her eyes and arose. She ran off happily to play with her sisters while Hanuman sat still, with a lesson well learned.
•••••
Contributed by
Cathy Spagnoli
http://www.cathyspagnoli.com/asiatell/index.htm
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Information for tellers from Cathy:
So many tales are told in Asia, from short, personal anecdotes to nightlong epics. And the stories are told in so many different ways, with and without music, with and without visuals, by one teller or a small group. Have fun exploring a taste of this treasure...

Asian Props
In Asia, there are so many tales, so many props....

Although some styles with visual props have faded in India, other styles can still be found. In the North Indian state of Rajasthan, the intricately painted Par scroll is set up by the Bhopa (teller), who then weaves nightlong tales, most often of the hero Pabuji. Wearing his red turban and stamping feet ringed with bells, the Bhopa sings, speaks, and bows his stringed instrument while his wife illuminates the story scenes with an oil lamp.

The ingenious kavad, from the same state, has a number of door panels, painted in vivid colors on both sides, which unfold to share stories of the gods. The last two doors usually open to show statues of the deity. The Ministry of Culture and the Delhi Bal Bhavan have made new adaptations of the kavad for rural education and to address other modern concerns.

A long vertical scroll, the pata, is used in the North Indian state of West Bengal by traveling storytellers who unwind the scroll slowly as they sing. Traditional tales of the gods and goddesses and newer stories about social issues (eg. dowry), accidents, politics, and more are told.

In the far south of India, the villupattu style is known for the size of its troupe (up to seven members) and for its major instrument: a bow strung with bells. These tellers share legends of local heroes and tales of deities and spirits, in temple settings. Newer stories about rural development, AIDS, literacy, Christianity, and Indian heroes are also told in this lively style that juxtaposes main story, verbal asides, questions, dialogue, and much music.

Asian Telling Styles
SOUTHEAST ASIA: Professor and storyteller Wajuppa Tossa, of Northeastern Thailand, also found her beloved Isan culture threatened by the stronger Thai language and culture. So she now teaches storytelling to her students, sends them out in troupes to share their Isan heritage, translates old Isan epics, and sponsors storytelling camps. In Singapore, the National Library Board, the National Book Development Council, and talented tellers like Kiran Shah and Sheila Wee are helping Singaporeans explore both cultural roots and future directions in a growing modern storytelling movement.

Nearby, in Malaysia, storytelling is also spreading, especially in the schools. Recently, many training sessions for teachers have taken place as storytelling has become part of the schoolday. Dr. Murti Bunanta of Indonesia promotes storytelling there through her work of many years, helped by talented Indonesian tellers and writers.

INDIA: Across India, there are too many ways to tell a tale. In Rajasthan, two popular styles involve the intricately painted par scroll and the ingenious kavad, a box with panels that unfold to tell a tale.

Musical storytelling is found across India in countless forms. Kirtan, a stirring blend of music and story from North India, changed into the southern Harikatha, which is still found in temples, musical societies, and at functions. Harikathabhagavatars, like Sri T.S. Balakrishna Sastrigal, have natural talent, devotion, and much training. They know major epics and stories, thousands of verses, several musical styles, and countless anecdotes to weave into the main story.

In the far south, the villupattu style features a large troupe and an unusual instrument: a bow strung with bells. Burra katha troupes in neighboring Andhra Pradesh usually have three members: a main teller, an assistant who adds questions and asides to help the tale unfold, and a drummer who plays the “burra.” The Communists helped revive this art to spread their message in the early 1900’s. Today, burra katha troupes, like villupattu troupes, share traditional tales as well as messages on family planning, farming, banking, or politics.

In lush Kerala state, several forms flourish. Chakyar Kuttu, performed only in temples, is the oldest form. The Chakyar uses elaborate language to slowly embroider several verses from an epic. Ottan Thullal, a more lively form of telling — with varied music, generous expression, bright costume, and social comment laced with satire — evolved from through the genius of poet Kunchan Nambiar.

While most Indian tellers tell of the gods, in kathaprasangam of Kerala, tellers tell about Communism and regional talent. This secular style developed in the twentieth century to popularize local Malayalam literature and to challenge societal problems of caste, corruption, and inequality.

The Asian storyteller tells to promote rural development, to encourage devotion, to preserve heritage and the environment, to teach, to entertain, and to inspire. In both quiet village and bustling city, Asian storytellers tell on even in the twenty-first century.
•••••
Contributed by
Cathy Spagnoli
http://www.cathyspagnoli.com/asiatell/index.htm
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13) INDIA
The Lion & The Rabbit - A Fable from India
The animals of the forest made a bargain with a ferocious lion who killed for pleasure. It was agreed that one animal each day would willingly come to the ferocious lion's den to be his supper and, in turn, the lion would never hunt again. The first to go to the lion's den was a timid rabbit, who went slowly.

"Why are you late?" the lion roared when the rabbit arrived.
"I'm late because of the other lion," said the rabbit.
"In my jungle? Take me to this other lion."

The rabbit led the lion to a deep well and told him to look in. The lion saw his own reflection in the water and roared! The sound of his roar bounced right back at him as an echo.

"I alone am king of this jungle," he roared again.
His echo answered him, "I alone am king of this jungle."

With that, the lion became so enraged, he charged into the deep well with a great splash! The lion attacked his own reflection and was never heard from again.
http://www.storyarts.org/library/nutshell/stories/lion.html
•••••
Contributed by
Heather Forest
Story Arts
heather@storyarts.org
http://www.storyarts.org/heather.html
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14) INDIA
A Flock of Birds - A Folktale from India
There was once a flock of birds peacefully pecking seeds under a tree. A hunter came along and threw a heavy net over them. He said, "Aha! Now I have my dinner!"

All at once the birds began to flap their wings. Up, up they rose into the air, taking the net with them. They came down on the tree and, as the net snagged in the tree's branches, the birds flew out from under it to freedom.

The hunter looked on in amazement, scratched his head and muttered, "As long as those birds cooperate with one another like that, I'll never be able to capture them! Each one of those birds is so frail and yet, together they can lift the net."
http://www.storyarts.org/library/nutshell/stories/flock.html
•••••
Contributed by
Heather Forest
Story Arts
heather@storyarts.org
http://www.storyarts.org/heather.html
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15) INDIA
The Talkative Turtle - A Tale from India
A talkative turtle overheard two hunters say that they were planning to catch turtles the very next day. When the hunters left, the turtle asked two cranes to help him escape. "Beautiful white birds," he said, "if you hold a long stick between your beaks, I'll close my mouth tightly in the middle of it, and then you can fly up and carry me to safety."

"Good idea," said the cranes. "But, for the plan to succeed, you will have to keep your mouth closed tightly on the stick and you must not say a word!" The turtle agreed and biting on the middle of a stick held in the beaks of two birds, off he was carried.

When the birds were high in the air with the turtle dangling down from the stick, some people on the ground looked up at the strange sight in the sky and said, "What clever birds! They figured out how to carry a turtle!"

The proud, talkative turtle cried out, "It was my idea!" and fell tumbling down to earth.
http://www.storyarts.org/library/nutshell/stories/talkative.html
•••••
Contributed by
Heather Forest
Story Arts
heather@storyarts.org
http://www.storyarts.org/heather.html
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16) INDIA
The Monkey and The Pea - A Tale from India
The King of Benares was out on a hunting trip with his wise counselor. They stopped to feed their horses some peas. Suddenly a young monkey darted down a tree and scooped a huge handful of peas out of the feeding trough. Halfway back up the tree one pea fell from the monkey's furry hands and, in a desperate attempt to catch it, the monkey dropped all the peas he was carrying.

Peas scattered on the ground and the horses ate them. The monkey climbed back up the tree empty-handed and sat sadly on a branch. The King and his wise counselor watched this episode with amusement. The counselor chuckled, "Great King, when far too greedy you be, remember that monkey and the pea."
http://www.storyarts.org/library/nutshell/stories/monkey.html
•••••
Contributed by
Heather Forest
Story Arts
heather@storyarts.org
http://www.storyarts.org/heather.html
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17) INDIA
The Traveler & The Nut Tree - A Tale from India
A traveler who stopped to rest under a nut tree noticed a huge pumpkin growing on a thin vine.

"How foolish are the ways of nature," the traveler muttered. "If things were as they should be, this big, strong tree would hold the large pumpkins, and the spindly vine would hold the nuts. Now if I made the world, that is how I'd have done it!"

At that moment, from high up in the tree, a small nut fell and hit him squarely on the head. Startled, he looked up into the branches and thought, "Forgive my arrogance! If it were a big pumpkin that fell out of the tree onto my head, it most certainly would have killed me!"
http://www.storyarts.org/library/nutshell/stories/traveler.html
•••••
Contributed by
Heather Forest
Story Arts
heather@storyarts.org
http://www.storyarts.org/heather.html
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18) INDIA
Three Fish - A Tale from India
Three fish lived in a pond. One was named Plan Ahead, another was Think Fast, and the third was named Wait and See. One day they heard a fisherman say that he was going to cast his net in their pond the next day.

Plan Ahead said, "I'm swimming down the river tonight!
Think Fast said, "I'm sure I'll come up with a plan.
Wait and See lazily said, "I just can't think about it now!"

When the fisherman cast his nets, Plan Ahead was long gone. But Think Fast and Wait and See were caught!

Think Fast quickly rolled his belly up and pretended to be dead. "Oh, this fish is no good!" said the fisherman, and threw him safely back into the water. But, Wait and See ended up in the fish market.

That is why they say, "In times of danger, when the net is cast, plan ahead or plan to think fast!"
http://www.storyarts.org/library/nutshell/stories/threefish.html
•••••
Contributed by
Heather Forest
Story Arts
heather@storyarts.org
http://www.storyarts.org/heather.html
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19) INDIA
Who Is King Of The Forest? - A Tale from India
When Tiger jumped on Fox, Fox cried out, "How dare you attack the King of the Jungle!"

Tiger looked at him in amazement, "Nonsense! You are not King!"

"Certainly I am," replied Fox, "All the animals run from me in terror! If you want proof, come with me." Fox went into the forest with Tiger at his heels. When they came to a herd of deer, the deer saw Tiger behind Fox and ran in all directions.

They came to a group of monkeys. The monkeys saw Tiger behind Fox and they fled. Fox turned to Tiger and said, "Do you need more proof than that? See how the animals flee at the very sight me?!"

"I'm surprised, but I've seen it with my own eyes. Forgive me for attacking you, Great King." Tiger bowed low and with great ceremony he let Fox go.
http://www.storyarts.org/library/nutshell/stories/whoisking.html
•••••
Contributed by
Heather Forest
Story Arts
heather@storyarts.org
http://www.storyarts.org/heather.html
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20) INDIA
The Brave Little Parrot - A tale from Jataka; adapted by Rafe Martin
[from an ancient Jataka tale from India. Found in More Best-loved Stores Told at the National Storytelling Festival (August House,1992.) Martin has published other versions of this tale in The Hungry Tigress: Buddhist Myths, Legends and Jataka Tales (Yellow Moon Press, 1999) and as a children's picture book, The Brave Little Parrot ( G.P. Putnam's, 1998, illustrated by Susan Gaber.]
Full Text:
Once a little parrot lived happily in a beautiful forest. But one day without warning, lightning flashed, thunder crashed, and a dead tree burst into flames. Sparks, carried on the rising wind, began to leap from branch to branch and tree to tree.

The little parrot smelled the smoke. "Fire!" she cried. "Run to the river!"

Flapping her wings, rising higher and higher, she flew toward the safety of the river's far shore. After all, she was a bird and could fly away.

But as she flew, she could see that many animals were already surrounded by the flames and could not escape. Suddenly a desperate idea, a way to save them, came to her.

Darting to the river, she dipped herself in the water. Then she flew back over the now-raging fire. Thick smoke coiled up, filling the sky. Walls of flame shot up, now on one side, now on the other. Pillars of fire leapt before her. Twisting and turning through a mad maze of flame, the little parrot flew bravely on.

Having reached the heart of the burning forest, the little parrot shook her wings. And the few tiny drops of water that still clung to her feathers tumbled like jewels down into the flames and vanished with a hiss.

Then the little parrot flew back through the flames and smoke to the river. Once more she dipped herself in the cool water and flew back over the burning forest. Once more she shook her wings, and a few drops of water tumbled like jewels into the flames. Hissssss.

Back and forth she flew, time and again from the river to the forest, from the forest to the river. Her feathers became charred. Her feet and claws were scorched. Her lungs ached. Her eyes burned. Her mind spun dizzily as a spinning spark. Still the little parrot flew on.

At that moment some of the blissful gods floating overhead in their cloud palaces of ivory and gold happened to look down and see the little parrot flying among the flames. They pointed at her with their perfect hands. Between mouthfuls of honeyed foods, the exclaimed, "Look at that foolish bird! She's trying to put out a raging forest fire with a few sprinkles of water! How absurd!" They laughed. But one of those gods, strangely moved, changed himself into a golden eagle and flew down, down toward the little parrot's fiery path.

The little parrot was just nearing the flames again, when a great eagle with eyes like molten gold appeared at her side. "Go back, little bird!" said the eagle in a solemn and majestic voice. "Your task is hopeless. A few drops of water can't put out a forest fire. Cease now, and save yourself before it is too late."

But the little parrot continued to fly on through the smoke and flames. She could hear the great eagle flying above her as the heat grew fiercer. He called out, "Stop, foolish little parrot! Stop! Save yourself!"

"I don't need some great, shining eagle," coughed the little parrot, "to tell me that. My own mother, the dear bird, could have told me the same thing long ago. Advice! I don't need advice. I just" cough, cough "need someone to help!"

Rising higher, the eagle, who as a god, watched the little parrot flying through the flames. High above he could see his own kind, those carefree gods, still laughing and talking even as many animals cried out in pain and fear far below. He grew ashamed of the gods' carefree life, and a single desire was kindled in his heart.

"God though I am," he exclaimed, "how I wish I could be just like that little parrot. Flying on, brave and alone, risking all to help, what a rare and marvelous thing! What a wonderful little bird!"

Moved by these new feelings, the great eagle began to weep. Stream after stream of sparkling tears began pouring from his eyes. Wave upon wave, they fell, washing down like a torrent of rain upon the fire, upon the forest, upon the animals and the little parrot herself.

Where those cooling tears fell, the sparks shrank down and died. Smoke still curled up from the scorched earth, yet new life was already boldly pushing forth shoots, stems, blossoms, and leaves. Green grass sprang up from along the still-glowing cinders.

Where the eagle's teardrops sparkled on the little parrot's wings, new feathers now grew: red feathers, green feathers, yellow feathers, too. Such bright colors! Such a pretty bird!

The animals looked at one another in amazement. They were whole and well. Not one had been harmed. Up above in the clear blue sky they could see their brave friend. the little parrot, looping and soaring in delight. When all hope was gone, somehow she had saved them.

"Hooray!" they cried. "Hooray for the brave little parrot and for this sudden, miraculous rain!"
•••••
Adaptation by Rafe Martin
As found at:
http://www.healingstory.org/treasure/little_parrot/brave_little_parrot.html
Suggested by
Kathy Mincz
TheSt10000@aol.com
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21) INDIA
One-Eyed Turtle Floating on a Sandalwood Log
(An ancient Buddhist parable, adapted by Denise Valentine)
Full text:
Once, there was a young boy who set out on a journey in search of his happiness.  He searched far and wide; he searched the cities, the towns, and the countryside. He searched from the top of the earth to the bottom of the earth. He asked everyone he met along the way. "Excuse me, Sir, can you tell me where to find my happiness?"  "Well son, I don’t rightly know what happiness is, so how can I tell you where to find it?" A little further down the road… "Miss, oh Miss, can you tell me where to find my happiness?"  "Oh child, I can’t find my own happiness, so how can I tell you where to find yours?" He was becoming a little discouraged, but he continued on his journey.  Time passed. The little boy became a young man.
 
One day, he came upon an old, old man, sitting under a bodhi tree.  He thought, that old man looks wise.  Surely he can tell me where to find my happiness. "Wise One, I am searching for my happiness. I’ve looked everywhere.  I’ve searched far and wide; I’ve searched the cities, the towns, and the countryside. I’ve searched from the top of the earth, to the bottom of the earth.  And I’ve asked everyone I met along the way.  And still, I could not find it."
 
The Wise One said to the young man, "Go and find a one-eyed turtle floating on a sandalwood log, and return to me. Then you shall know the secret to happiness."  Ohhh, the young man was so excited.  All he had to do was find a one-eyed turtle floating on a sandalwood log, and his search would be over.

Eighty thousand yojanas down on the bottom of the ocean floor, lives a one-eyed turtle. This turtle has neither limbs, nor flippers.  His belly is as hot as eight hot fires, while the shell on his back is as cold as Snow Mountains.  What this turtle yearns for day and night, the desire he utters morning and evening, is to cool his belly, and to warm the shell on his back. But only the wood of the sandalwood tree has the power to cool his belly.  So the little turtle longs with all his might, to climb onto a sandalwood log and place his belly in the hollow in order to cool it, while at the same time, exposing the shell on his back to the sun in order to warm it.

But by the laws of nature, the little turtle rises to the surface of the ocean, only once every thousand years.  And even when he does so, the ocean is vast, the little turtle is small, and floating logs are few. If he should happen to find a floating log, it is seldom made of sandalwood.  And even if he should happen to find a floating log, and it is made of sandalwood, it rarely has a hollow in it the size of his belly.  If the hollow is too large, he will fall in, and cannot warm the shell on his back, and there will be no one to pull him out.  If the hollow is too small, he cannot place his belly in the hollow.  The waves will wash him away, and he will sink back down to the bottom of the ocean floor, to wait another thousand years.

Even if, against all odds, he should happen to find a floating log, and it is made of sandalwood, and it has a hollow in it the size of his belly, he has only one eye.  His vision is distorted.  If the log is floating eastward, he perceives it as floating westward.  If the log is floating north, he sees it as floating south.  The harder the little turtle tries to climb onto the log, the farther away from it he goes.  Thus, he always moves away from the log, and can never approach it.

So, the young man returns to the wise old man, without the one-eyed turtle floating on a sandalwood log.  "Old man, old man, you tricked me.  I couldn’t find a one-eyed turtle floating on a sandalwood log."
 
"Then, young man, you have found the secret to happiness. We cannot see our own eyebrows, which are so close. Nor the heavens in the distance. Likewise, we do not see that happiness exist in our own hearts. Searching for your happiness, outside your own life, is as elusive as finding a one-eyed turtle floating on a sandalwood log."
•••••
Contributed by
Denise Valentine
To read this story with delightful illustrations, go to:
http://denisevalentine.com/Story.html
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STORIES FROM AND INFORMATION ABOUT INDONESIA:

1) INDONESIA
Sikintan - A Folktale from Jamu Region in Acheh Province [where the earthquake occurred]
[Contributed by Murti Bunanta of Jakarta. It is from her book Indonesian Folktales (Libraries Unlimited, 2003).
Full text:
I n a village there lived a family with only one son. His name was Sikintan. Every day the father went into the forest to gather wood, which he sold in the market. Though he worked hard, they were always poor.

One night Sikintan’s father had a dream. In his dream an old man came to him and said, “Sikintan’s father, go to the upper reaches of the river. Look there for a large bamboo cluster. In that bamboo cluster you will find a Back to topdiamond stick. That diamond stick will bring much good fortune.

The following day Sikintan was asked by his father to come along on a trip to the upper reaches of the river. But his father didn’t tell Sikintan what his exact purpose was. His father only told him they were going for a long walk.

Father and son walked along the edge of the river. When they had traveled far upstream to the very upper reaches of the river, they discovered a large bamboo cluster. Sikintan was astonished to see his father start digging furiously in the bamboo cluster. But still his father did not tell him what he was actually looking for.

After a while, something sparkling was seen among the bamboo roots. Sikintan’s father soon pried it up from the thick bamboo clump. It was the diamond stick which had been revealed by the old man in the dream. Not until he actually had the diamond stick in his hands did the father tell Sikintan about that dream.

When they arrived home, Sikintan’s mother was amazed to see her husband carrying a diamond stick! They decided they should sell it and use the money to forward Sikintan’s career, since he was now old enough to go out into the world. But since everyone on their island knew them as poor people, they feared they would be accused of stealing if they tried to sell something so valuable. They decided to send Sikintan to another island to make the sale.

The following day Sikintan hired himself onto a large boat traveling to another island . “You will soon be rich, my son,” said his father. “Don’t forget your poor parents who have always lived in poverty. Remember us when your life improves.” Sikintan promised to always remember his parents.

So Sikintan crossed the seas to a distant island. As soon as the ship had moored, Sikintan went ashore and looked for work. He settled down to learn his way about, before attempting to sell the diamond stick. He soon realized that only the most wealthy merchant in the village would have enough money to purchase such a thing. So he approached that merchant and managed to sell the marvelous diamond stick for a large sum.

With the money from the diamond stick, Sikintan set himself up as a merchant. He used his money well, worked hard, and became very rich. He married a merchant’s daughter, built a fine house, and bought for himself a large ship, which he named “Sikintan.” But all this time, he had not thought at all about his parents, still living in his home village in such poverty.

Then one night Sikintan had a dream. In his dream he saw his mother and father. “Kintan,” called his mother, “You are now rich and contented. But you seem to have forgotten your parents. We have been waiting for you for so many years. Did you not promise your father when he saw you off at the ship, that you would never forget your own parents?”

Sikintan realized his shameful neglect of his parents. The next day he and his wife set sail for his native village. As soon as he docked, he sent word for his parents to come to the ship. News spread throughout the village that Sikintan had returned a rich merchant.

Sikintan’s father was overjoyed and rushed to the shore to greet his son. But when Sikintan saw this old man in ragged clothes on the shore, he was ashamed to admit before his wife, that this was his own father.

“Old man, how do you dare claim to be my father. My father is not a poor old creature like you.” Sikintan’s father tried to be patient. “Kintan look at me carefully. I am your father. It was I who gave you the diamond stick which made your fortune. It is because of me that you now can live in such wealth, while your old parents have lived in poverty all of these years.”

But Sikintan turned his back on the ragged old man. His father went home in grief.

“Though Sikintan sent for me, he refused to recognize me when I arrived,” he told his wife. “You must go to call him. Surely he will recognize his own mother.”

So Sikintan’s mother hurried to the ship and asked someone to call Sikintan to the deck. But when he came out onto the deck and saw this old, decrepit woman, he once more refused to show recognition. “Old woman, don’t you ever claim me as your son. My mother didn’t look like you. My mother was always neatly dressed and clean.”

“But Kintan,” replied his mother. I am old now, and we are very poor. How can you show shame at meeting your own parents?”

So his mother too had to go home grief-stricken. There she and her husband wept and wept that their own son would refuse to recognize them.

As for Sikintan, he turned his ship and started back for the village of his wife. But soon the wind began to blow. The ship’s captain was alarmed. “Sikintan has been cruel to his own parents. This typhoon may be a retribution for his actions. Now we will all suffer because of Sikintan.

Sikintan realized that the captain was right. Fearing for his life, he ordered the captain to change course and return to his parent’s island. Once more the huge ship docked at his parent’s village. Once more they hurried to the shore to greet their son. But when he saw that old, ragged couple on the shore, Sikintan still could not bear to admit that they were his own parents. So happy at first, his parents now were crushed once again. “If you still do not want to recognize us, we will just go home. Forget you ever had us as your parents.” And they left.

As Sikintan’s ship sailed away a final time, his mother called to the heavens. “Since our son, Sikintan, does not admit we are his parents. Let him have no blessing from us or from the heavens.” (does this work. “have his just deserts” doesn’t sound right)

Now the typhoon arose again. This time there was no turning back. The ship was swallowed in the waves, and Sikintan, his wife, and all his crew were drowned.

They say that seven days after the ship sank, an island appeared on that spot. A white monkey clung to the island. For one month the white monkey was seen clinging there. And then it was gone. People say that the island was Sikintan’s ship and that the white monkey was Sikintan himself. To this day that island is known as Sikintan’s Island. And all who pass it remember the story of Sikintan who treated his own parents so cruelly.
•••••
Contributed by
Margaret Read MacDonald
http://www.margaretreadmacdonald.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=who.contact_me
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2) INDONESIA
Contemporary stories from Indonesia, some about the actual tsunami event (84)
http://www.traveljournals.net/stories/indonesia/
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3) INDONESIA
Princess Pinang Masak
[A folktale from Indonesia.. Retold from Indonesian Folktales by Murti Bunanta. (Libraries Unlimited). Retold by Margaret Read MacDonald.]
Bones:
The Princess Pinang Masak was the most beautiful girl in her village.
Word of her beauty soon spread.
Everyone in the entire region knew of her beauty.
Her fame spread far beyond the bounds of her father’s small kingdom.
Soon the Sultan of Sumatera heard of her beauty.

Now the Sultan of Sumatera held sway over the entire island of Sumatera.
He could have anything and anyone he wanted.
And when he heard of a beautiful young girl…he wanted HER.
So when word came to his palace of the faraway Princess Pinang Masak…he at once sent soldiers to capture her and bring her to his palace.
The Sultan already had a harem with over a hundred beautiful girls held captive there.
But he was eager to add another.

Fortunately word reached Princess Pinang Masak that the king was sending soldiers to arrest her.
She thought long about how she could escape them, and she came up with a plan.
The Princess boiled the dark purple blooms of the banana tree in a huge vat of water.
Then she began to streak that dark dye onto her skin.
She streaked it all over her arms.
She streaked it all over her face, her neck, her shoulders.
She rubbed it all over her legs and feet.

Then she mussed up her hair, stuck sticks, straw, and bugs in it.
And she put on the oldest, most ragged clothes she could find.