In a clearing, deep
in the forest, the trees were having a pre-dawn discussion.
“Animals come and
rest in our shade but they leave a mess behind,” said the Jamun. “The smell on
some days is unbearable!”
“They show no concern
for us because we’re silent,” said the Sal. “But I’ve had enough! I’ve made up
my mind to drive away any animal that comes here!”
“That may not be a wise
thing to do,” said the Peepul, the oldest and biggest tree there. “The animals
are a nuisance, I agree, but they serve a useful purpose. We are all
inter-dependent—trees, animals, men . . .”
“I’m sorry,”
interrupted the Sal. “I’ve great respect for your views but in this matter I
will not listen to anyone. I won’t allow animals here any more!”
True to his word when
a leopard came to rest in the shade later that day, the Sal began to shake
violently from side to side. The leopard, frightened out of his wits, jumped up
and ran. The Sal drove away all the animals that came to the clearing that day
and in the days that followed. In course of time animals stopped coming to that
part of the forest.
The Sal became a
great hero to the younger trees in the neighbourhood and even some of the older
ones began bowing to him when the Peepul was not looking.
Then one day two
woodcutters came to the clearing.
“Men!” gasped the
Sal. “Why have they come here? They’ve never come here before.”
“If they’ve never
come here before it was because they were afraid of the animals,” said the
Peepul. “Now the absence of the leopard and the tiger has made them bold.”
The Sal began to
tremble with fear and with good reason. It was the first tree the woodcutters
chopped down.
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