Fable-5 Poem by Nabakishore Dash

In a village lived
a poor man.
Cutting firewoods
from the nearby forest,
selling the same for a living
was his daily profession.

Once while cutting,
his axe slipped out of his grip,
fell into deep waters
of a burbling river
flowing underneath.

Stunned and stricken by grief
he cried and prayed to
the Goddess of water
to come to his aid.
Water Goddess appeared,
a silver axe in her hand,
is it yours?
she said.

Emphatic' no' was his reply.
The Goddess took a dip,
reappeared with another axe
made up of gold,
asked if it was thy.

Again, 'no' was the answer.
She sank once more,
came back with iron axe,
the wood cutter was very happy,
expressed his indebtedness
and honour.
Overwhelmed by his honesty
and non-acquisitiveness,
she rewarded him with all three axes.

My source is a bed time story told,
in mother tongue, by my
late father.