A Prelude to Christmas

 


A long season of turmoil... Trembling kingdoms and troubled hearts...

Kings argued, empires shifted, and fear lay heavy on the streets.

The land groaned, burdened by foreign rule and the sorrow of its people.

And then came the great census, scattering families in every direction, each wandering to their forgotten hometowns.

 

The story of such a wandering journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem, long and uncertain, shadowed by hardships and humiliation…

 

A quiet man carrying the weight of a difficult truth—facing a shame that was not his - that the betrothed bride promised to him already carried a child not his own. 

And the young bride carrying a mystery she barely understood. Weary and wandering, she was seeking a quiet place to rest before the birth that pressed close.

 

The worst of times...

The age of foolishness...

The season of darkness...

The winter of despair...

 

Meanwhile…

 

A lone star had already begun its journey towards the dark night sky over a humble manger in Bethlehem.

 

And in that a quiet manger, the weary woman found a shelter at last, unaware that she is carrying within her the true light itself.

 

 **************************************

 

 

"The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world.” John 1:9

Farmhouse Diaries - A Quiet Afternoon

 Farmhouse Diaries

A Quiet Afternoon




"Where have you been Gary?" asked Milo.

 

Gary didn’t answer. He walked past silently and sat on a small patch of hay scattered on the ground. He settled on it slowly, self-absorbent, licking his paw.

 

Milo was worried, for this was one of Gary's very rare moods which crept over him when he was truly unhappy. Was he chased away? Did someone trick him? Gary was not the sort of cat who got upset easily. He was a gentle wandering soul with a bright, steady spirit. The only thing Milo felt certain was that Gary didn't wish to talk about it.

 

He padded closer and sat down beside him, not saying anything, but watching Gary lick away the dirt from his fur, wishing that he could brush away the hurt from his heart too.

 

Gary felt Milo's quiet worry. He sighed - a deep heavy sigh, the kind that said "I'm tired, but still fine." He gazed off into the distance and said softly "the world can wear you off sometimes, Milo. You try to be kind and warm, but the world can be really mean. And you start to wonder, whether there is any room in this bustling place to hold feelings as big as kindness and love". He paused thoughtfully as though searching for the right kind of words - those gentle words, that wouldn't sadden anyone but still carry the weight of what he felt.

 

Milo inched a little closer, glad to hear Gary speak at last. It meant his mood was passing. Seeing Gary sad made him sad too. Without waiting for Gary to finish, he replied in his gentle tone, “That’s when you look to your friends, Gary. You peek inside their hearts, and you find even bigger spaces there - spaces big enough to hold all your love, all your kindness and every good thing you carry. And you can be sure those things will be treasured safely inside, forever."

 

He gave Gary a loving lick.

 

Gary turned to Milo with a soft warm smile - a brave sort of smile, rising gently from a heart still carrying its little bruises.

 

"And often," Gary whispered, "it takes only a moment to feel better, when you are with the right ones...the ones who truly care. And suddenly, you start to feel real good and your heart feels light all again."

 

The two friends sat together for a long time, not saying much - for words were seldom needed when hearts spoke.

 

"I've saved you a treat" Milo said, "Aunt Susan tried one of her Chicken Pot Pie recipes yesterday, and I got a crumb. I've kept it safe for you". Gary's eyes lit up. How blessed it is he to have a friend like Milo!

 

"How can I stay sad when I'm with you?" he said gratefully.

 

And so, the two friends walked towards Rosewood farm, arm in arm, paw in paw towards the lovely treat that finds its way to the fortunate few, every now and then.


Story by Solin Stanling


The Last Sacrifice

 

The Last Sacrifice 


More than 2000 years ago...

 

The incessant bleating of the lamb made Nih restless as he lay awake staring at a bleak blank sky. Neither the hard earth beneath nor the dry winds above bothered him. Night had fallen, enveloping the entire hills in a misty shroud. Far down the hills, the tiny village of Judea was in celebration of Yom Kippur, the holy festival for the Atonement of Sins. Nih thought about the miserable fate of his flocks. That morning, 'Pearl', his dearly tended ewe was offered as a burnt sacrifice for the festival. In another two days, the crying little lamb will become the next offering. He felt overwhelmed. Images of his tender Pearl at the altar flooded his mind – its lifeless figure in blood pool with limbs tied, skin peeled off and vitals revealed – Nih closed his eyes.  The winds brushing past his nose coquettishly kindled the pain of his grieving heart. He felt it had the smell of his loving Pearl.  Pearl is reduced to a heap of burnt meat now, he wept bitterly.  Shepherds are meant to protect their flock. But he was a hopeless Shepherd who had no power to protect his sheep.  He wished he had never been a shepherdHe wished the tradition of sacrifices ended… He wished the Mosaic Law had been some other way…

 

Nih was born into a family of shepherds. His father was a Shepherd at Migdal Eder, a tower where lambs exclusively meant for sacrifices were raised. After his father's death, Nih inherited the position. Being a Shepherd at Migdel Eder was indeed covetous, for they were no ordinary Shepherds. But for Nih, what remained after years of service was a heart full of regrets and sorrows. He lost his carefully tended rams and ewes one after another to the never-ending sacrifices. He felt like running away. But the Jewish blood in his veins tethered him to the deep-rooted traditions from which there was no escape. Besides, he had nowhere to go and didn't know what he would do if he ran away, for he had no one except his dear flock and knew no other job, other than being a Shepherd.

 

The gloomy fields stretched outbound and amid the murmur of his flock, Nih could distinctly hear the cry of one particular lamb, apart from the rest. It is said that animals can sense danger; the little one might have sensed its impending doom. He sighed a breath of exasperation, rose to his feet and dawdled his way towards the fields, wandering along the deserted pathways that led to the city of Judea. Lost in thoughts, he lost track of how long he had been walking. He realised he had reached a foothill, for the fairy lights and music of celebrations began to be felt in the walkways. The streets were adorned with decorations and twinkling lights fluttered on either side.  The world is so blind to the pain of others! With a poignant heart, he moved through the streets.

 

A few yards away, Nih spotted a small crowd. Several people were gathered around a robed man, who seemed to be a preacher. Nih approached the crowd. The man in the robe was speaking about a spiritual teacher named Jesus, who had recently been put to death. Nih knew of Jesus and despised him. Jesus was a prophet who had gone around claiming to be God. When Judea could no longer tolerate him, the Church captured him and crucified him. His death had caused a stir throughout Judea, as he had many followers. But his story ended with his crucifixion. Nih never liked Jesus and was personally in favour of his crucifixion—Jewish blood never tolerates heresy. But what is this man trying to prove in the middle of the night? Nih pulled his cape tighter around him and drew closer to the robed man, listening intently. The man was describing Jesus' birth, years ago, on a humble night in a manger in the village of Bethlehem. He was discerning old prophetic books to show how this birth had been foretold centuries earlier. The man continued, recounting how a peculiar star had appeared in the sky that night and how a host of heavenly angels had appeared to a group of shepherds in the fields to announce the ‘divine birth.’

 

Nih felt a strange unease in his stomach. He felt as if he had heard this story before. It was not a story though...

 

 

                                                                 Chapter 2

 

Nih's mind wandered back many years to when his father, Mehud, was the head Shepherd at Migdal Eder. He had heard him recount the story of a “special night” numerous times that he had little difficulty in recalling the happenings of that night at Bethlehem. Nih harked back to that night in a wink.

 

                                **********************************************

 

Day was drawing to a close, and warm winds ruffled the air as summer flies buzzed busily. Evening fell. Mehud stood at the top of the tower, surveying the skies and the fields surrounding it. Summer was just setting in, and the animal shelters were hot and humid. He stood for a moment, uncertain, but then decided to let the cattle out in the fields that night. Confining the animals to their humid shelters during the summer could put them at risk of falling sick. As the head shepherd at Migdal Eder, Mehud was responsible for ensuring that the flock remained healthy and fit for sacrifice.

 

Soon, under Mehud’s orders, the flocks were herded from their shelters down into the open fields. Rapturous murmur of the cattle filled the air; they cherished the smell of fresh air! The shepherds at Eder prepared their tents and bedding, ready to sleep in their temporary shelters out in the fields.

 

It was a moderately warm and very starry night. Mehud shoved himself under a jutting rock and spread his rug. He let out a yawn and sprawled across it on his back.  As he was gazing at the sky, a lone star attracted his attention. In all his years of sleeping out, he had done star gazing numerous times but had never seen one like this before.  It was very different and distinctly bright from the rest of the stars. It shone up above in a curious way.  Was it moving?? He felt so.

 

Mehud rose and staggered across the fields to reach his fellow Shepherds who were sleeping scattered across the fields. Some of them were already half asleep but Mehud nudged them awake one by one to show them the peculiar star. Soon, all of them were speculating and discussing probable reasons for the appearance of the star. Mehud felt it was kind of a sign. But of what? They pondered. In an instance, a streak of dazzling lights from the sky left them blindfolded.

 

All of them sprang up, startled. Mehud strained his eyes. An angel? In the middle of the night? He was confused about whether he was dreaming it all.  But what he heard, he heard it straight and clear.  And thus, it spoke:

 

“Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Saviour has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”

 

That was awesome news.   Years of service in Migdel Eder had endowed Mehud with the understanding of what the angel meant.  The arrival of a Messiah has been prophesied by various prophets throughout the ages. But... In a manger? Wrapped in swaddling clothes? That confused him. Newly born lambs are nursed in Eder that way, but that isn’t how a Messiah is supposed to arrive.  Messaihas and Kings should be born in palaces, not in mangers. While Mehud was pondering, a Heavenly Host suddenly appeared, singing choruses that were the sweetest Mehud had ever heard on earth.

"Glory to God in the highest heaven,

and on earth peace to those on whom his favour rests"

 

It was as if the Heavens were celebrating something of which the earth was totally unaware of.

 

Mehud trembled.   Was it a trance? He pinched himself to make sure he was not dreaming.  He already had a weary day and suddenly out of the blue, he was seeing in front of his eyes what mortal minds can never comprehend.

  

The Heavenly host faded away, but Mehud could still feel the warmth of the dazzling lights underneath his skin and the echoes of their songs at the back of his head. It seemed to resonate the whole field.

 

"Glory to God in the highest heaven,

and on earth peace to those on whom his favour rests"

 

Mehud came back to his senses. He looked around to find equally dazed friends who were yet to recover from what they saw. Soon they were arguing and discussing the supernatural occurrences they had witnessed. Though they could not reach a consensus on everything they had heard, all were certain about one thing: they had heard of a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes in a manger.  Their discussions concluded with their resolve to walk up to the city of David, Bethlehem, in search of a manger, where they hoped to find a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes.

 

The lone star shone brilliantly above.  They mazed through moonlit paths and the bright star stood witness. It seemed as if the star guided them. It moved roughly a thousand paces towards the west as they entered the nearest city of Bethlehem.  They walked indecisively through the city walkways seeking a manger and a new-born. At times, the star stood still when they made wrong turns. Other times, it moved.  Bethlehem was a city they were well acquainted with, and soon came up on a dimly lit barn, brimming with the joy of a new birth. There inside the cozy barn, just as the angel had said, was a new-born baby, in a crib, wrapped in swaddling clothes, sleeping peacefully; unaware of what was going around.

 

Mehud knelt beside the crib, feeling a mix of awe and uncertainty. The angels had spoken the truth: here lay a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes—the Messiah, just as they had proclaimed. The birth the Jewish people had been waiting for centuries. Yet, as he gazed upon the infant, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was looking at a new-born lamb at Eder. The baby in the manger reminded him of the new birth of a lamb at Eder. Little did he realize that the baby in the crib was the unblemished lamb, destined to be the ultimate sacrificial lamb—born to replace countless sacrificial lambs at the Tower of Eder.

 

 

                                                            

Chapter 3

 

 

Nih regained his senses. His father's story felt like a fairy tale then. He looked around. It had started snowing. A chilly breeze brushed past him. The robed man had finished a lengthy lecture and was leaving, and so were the crowd.  Nih was so caught up in his own thoughts that he couldn't listen to the robed man's entire lecture. But the extent that he had heard was enough to leave him dumbfounded. He sat on a stile in brooding silence at that odd hour of the night, trying to reconnect the story of his father and the words of this robed man until the penny dropped. The strange Messianic birth his father had witnessed years back at Bethlehem was indeed that of Jesus. In his very younger years, Nih believed his father's story, but as he grew older, he thought that his father had some fallacies that night.   After his father's death, no one ever spoke of it again and the special night was forgotten. He never imagined that the same baby, grown up as Jesus, was the Messiah walking in and around Judea right before them.  For him, Jesus was a sick prophet, a despised prophet, someone who deserved nothing but scorn.  He had no home, he hungered and thirsted, trod on foot for miles and miles, made friends with the outcasts, associated himself with the lowest of society, and was a pain in the neck for the Church. No one during his time held him in any esteem, he even washed the feet of his own disciples! 

 

But Nih recalled the stories he had heard about him from his fellow Shepherds at Eder - that he performed miracles, healed the sick and delivered the possessed. But he had dismissed all those tales as the antics of a madman. He desperately wanted to see the end of that man.  The realization that the baby in the crib was the one who was crucified as Jesus filled him with remorse. A sharp pang of guilt ran through him as he remembered himself shouting, "Crucify him! Crucify him!" alongside the crowd who was there to witness his punishment. How could anyone possibly guess him as the Messiah? His picture of Messiah as a knight on a horseback slowly faded and a brutally bruised and beaten figure of a human body flooded his vision.

 

Nih remembered his final moments. His hands were tied to the back, and he was stripped and beaten badly.  He stood just as a lamb brought to the altar for slaughter, just as his dear Pearl stood at the altar at the time of its execution. The cross was laid flat on the ground and his hands and legs were nailed to it. Amidst the agonizing death pain,  Nih heard those words uttered through his lips, " Father, forgive them, for they know not what they are doing".   When the cross was raised from the ground, Nih saw a beaten, naked, striped and thorn-pierced body soaked in blood. His head was adorned with a thorn crown, blood gushed down from his temples through his face, his entire body was covered in blood stripes, his hands and feet were nailed to the cross, his head hung low...

 

Nih felt a shiver down his spine. The hanging body on the cross didn't look human anymore; it resembled his bleeding Pearl at the altar. The slain Pearl. The sacrificed Pearl. The Pearl soaked in blood.  The Pearl whose skin was torn off from its body.  Nih suddenly realized why Jesus was born in a manger instead of a palace. His sacrifice was to replace the innumerable sacrifices of countless flocks at Eder. The spite with which he had viewed him until then dissolved into remorse, trickling down as hot tears from his eyes. His lips shivered.  As he lay dying on the cross, the veil of the Holy Temple was rent in twain from top to bottom. Mosaic Law based on sacrifice was torn apart, and a new law, founded on love, evolved.  The sacrifice to end Mosaic Law is made on the cross. The sacrifice for the redemption of humanity's sins is made in eternity.

 

Nih suddenly remembered his crying little lamb, the next sacrificial object. Yes, it could be saved, but he had to act quickly. The era of sacrifices ended on the cross, and his own pain was coming to an end. The man he so despised paid with his life to end his pain. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he was running all the way uphill. The gloomy shadow of the mighty Migdel towering over the fields didn't matter anymore.  He is finally free, free to escape, to run away to a far distant place where he can lead an ordinary Shepherd life, with all his flock. Soon, he would have more rams and ewes, all to himself. He would not have to give them away for sacrifices ever again. He was already weaving dreams of his new life as an ordinary Shepherd in leisurely hills and distant pastures.

 

As Nih reached uphill and was walking towards his flock shelter, he noticed that the little lamb that had been crying continuously had already fallen asleep and the flock had become silent...

 

                                                  ***********************************

 

"For you know that it was not with perishable things such as silver or gold that you were redeemed from the empty way of life handed down to you from your ancestors, but with the precious blood of Messiah, a lamb without blemish or defect. (1 Peter 1:18-19)

 

Story by Solin Stanling

Echoes of Resurrection

 

Mary tossed and turned, unable to sleep. She had endured hard nights before, but this was different—this was her second sleepless night in a row, and a heavy sigh escaped her lips. The wounds in her heart were still raw, refusing to heal.

Morning was slowly creeping in, though the world outside remained dark. Unable to lie still any longer, and knowing sleep would not return, she rose quietly and stepped out into the night. The brooding darkness and desolate silence did not frighten her. Her steps were quick; her resolve unshaken.

It was unusual for a woman to walk alone in the darkness—more unusual still to walk toward a graveyard. But Mary did not waver. Images of His crucifixion—His pain, His suffering, His agonizing death—flashed before her eyes again and again. She had witnessed it all. She had seen His lifeless body placed inside the tomb, and she had been the last to leave the graveyard that terrible day.

She knew the tomb had been sealed with a heavy stone. There were likely guards near the tomb, but the thought did not deter her. If she had to, she would beg them to let her near. Sitting beside His grave felt infinitely better than lying in helpless agony.

As she crossed the graveyard gates, she failed to notice that the guards were gone. Guided by an unshakable longing, she walked straight toward the familiar tomb. Her heart ached; her throat tightened. There lay in somber silence, the dearest person she had ever had.

During His life, He had been followed by crowds—multitudes of people, along with His twelve chosen disciples. He had helped them all. But now, as He lay in His dark, cold grave, He seemed utterly deserted. Not one of His disciples was there. They were likely hidden behind locked doors, afraid of the Jews, she thought.

Though darkness clung to the morning, Mary could already make out the outline of the tomb. But as she drew closer, a chill ran through her. The great stone had been rolled away. The tomb stood open.

She bent low and peered inside.
She nearly fainted.

The sepulcher was empty.
Only the linen cloths remained.

A fresh wave of grief struck her. Someone must have stolen His body. Perhaps His enemies. Perhaps the guards themselves. As His life had been controversial, so was His death. But this—this was impossible. He had been despised by both Jews and Romans; nothing seemed too cruel to imagine.

Distraught, her legs trembled beneath her.
“Oh, where will I go to find Him now?” she fell on her knees and wept.

“Woman, why are you weeping?”

A deep voice echoed through the hollowness of the cold graveyard. She lifted her head and saw the silhouette of a man standing before her. His face was not clear in the dark dim morning light.  Who else would be in this graveyard at such an hour except the gardener?

Without hesitation she pleaded,

"Master, please give me His body, if you know to where it has been taken, please, I will take it away."

She was not sure how she will take a lifeless body away or what she will do with it or where she was going to take it. But "somehow", that was all she thought, "Somehow". In her hand was the sweet spice she had bought to smear on him.

“Mary.”
“Why do you seek the living among the dead?”

The voice… the name… Her name spoken in that familiar tone—
A shock pulsed through her entire being.
Recognition struck like lightning.

Jesus.
He is alive!!!
He has defeated death!!!
He has risen!!!

That single moment was enough to fill Mary’s heart for the rest of her life. It was indeed more, much more than what she needed. She had seen the risen Christ first.

From a forsaken woman once possessed by seven evil spirits to the first witness of the risen Christ—she had been given an honor of seeing the risen Christ first, a privilege denied even to his beloved disciples, for she loved Him above all.

(A recreation of John 20 by Solin Stanling)

The Companion

 

THE COMPANION


 


Willie felt utterly miserable. The forest stretched around him like a vast, silent maze, and he was hopelessly alone. He had lost his way, and the thought of finding the narrow, deserted, off-the-beaten path again felt almost impossible. Each step along the murky, shadow-filled trail made his heart sink a little more.

The New Year was only a night away. His friends would be celebrating, surrounded by warmth and laughter, yet here he was—shivering in the dark, fighting the rising panic of loneliness. Tears blurred his vision as he trudged on, and through the veil of winter air, he could just make out tiny specks of city lights shimmering far in the distance. They looked impossibly out of reach.

At this pace, it felt as though he would need an eternity to get there. His spirits, already dim, smothered any urge to hurry. How could the New Year be merry when he wasn’t even sure he would make it home?

His legs had grown cold and heavy, each movement a slow drag through the thick snow. Every now and then, he sank onto the side of the path, staring into nothing—lost in fear, exhaustion, and the ache of being forgotten by the world. But what else could he do? With a weary breath, Willie stood once more, brushed the snow from his coat, and began walking again—one quiet, determined step after another into the night.

Something stirred restlessly somewhere near him. Swish… He turned around, startled. He strained his eyes through the dark, but it was all foggy and hazy around. Darkness had fallen some time ago, and dark clouds hid the moon. He walked on, a little wary of what might be following him in this gloomy hour.

After a few steps, he clearly sensed something moving along, and in the faint streak of returning moonlight, he spotted a delicate little mouse scurrying through the bushes. Willie did not feel the urge to chase it, for his spirits were too low. He ignored it and continued his walk.

But the unceasing movement and stirring distracted his melancholic thoughts, and his natural instincts kicked in. At the spotting of the tiny creature again, Willie leapt into the bushes, targeting it. The tiny thing squeaked, darted in and out of the bushes, and then, all around him, the squeaks grew louder. Willie bounded blindly, missing it narrowly every time. Chasing had always been his favourite sport. He no longer felt lonely. He forgot to be melancholic.

Willie continued his chase game, prowling warily through the bushes and springing forward every time he spotted the little mouse darting here or there, until he became aware of the glowing lights growing nearer and nearer. His weary journey had almost ended, for he was nearing the city.

The dark, narrow path trailed away, and Willie soon found himself facing the familiar, well-lit, busy city street. He heard a faint squeak behind him. He turned back and halted, staring through the dark, cold path he had just traversed. But the squeak faded away into the darkness and was heard no more.

His tiny companion had bid him goodbye and slipped back into the night.

Willie had already forgotten how miserable he had felt. His heart was now full of gratitude for the tiny friend who had kept him company through his lonely journey. That lively little creature had lifted his spirits so high that he felt ready—truly ready—to welcome the New Year with joy.

Fireworks burst across the midnight sky, and the streets echoed with loud celebrations. Willie hurried past the noise, eager to reach home. He knew he would soon be greeted with warm hugs… and perhaps even a comforting bowl of hot milk.

That snowy night, Willie curled up on his favourite spot on the sofa, snuggling deep into the cushions. Within moments, he drifted into a soft, happy sleep, dreaming of splendid stars and bright lights shining down on the New Year.

He was finally home. And the journey had been worth it.

Some journeys are hard. But you are not alone❤️


 

“… Whoever forces you to go one mile, go with him two.” – Mathew 5:41  


Story by Solin Stanling

Malayalam Kids Stories: മിഠായി കൊതിയന് പറ്റിയ അക്കിടി

കുറുമ്പനായ മിട്ടു കരടി മഹാ കൊതിയൻ ആയിരുന്നു.  കഴിക്കാൻ എന്തു സാധനം കണ്ടാലും അവൻ അത് അപ്പൊ അകത്താക്കും.


ഒരു ദിവസം അവൻ തൻറെ ചങ്ങാതിയായ കണ്ണൻറെ വീട്ടിൽ പോയപ്പോൾ


ഒരു ഭരണി നിറയെ തേൻ മിഠായി കണ്ടു. മിട്ടു നിൻറെ വായിൽ വെള്ളമൂറി


"ആരും കാണാതെ അത് അകത്താക്കണം" അവൻ വിചാരിച്ചു.


കണ്ണൻ പുറത്തു പോയ നേരം നോക്കി 


അവൻ പമ്മിപ്പമ്മി ഭരണിയുടെ അടുത്തെത്തി പതിയെ മൂടി തുറന്നു തൻറെ തുടുത്തുരുണ്ട കൈ അതിനുള്ളിലിട്ടു. തൻറെ കുഞ്ഞു കൈക്ക് എടുക്കാവുന്ന അത്രയേ തേൻമിഠായി വാരി മുറുക്കിപ്പിടിച്ചു. എന്നാലോ! 


മിട്ടു കരടി: "അയ്യോ കൈ പുറത്തെടുക്കാൻ പറ്റുന്നില്ലല്ലോ.... കുടുങ്ങിയെന്നാ തോന്നുന്നത്.... ചതിച്ചോ?" 


അവർ പിന്നേം  പിന്നേം  ആഞ്ഞു വലിച്ചു. ഒരു രക്ഷയുമില്ല കൈ വേദനിക്കുന്നു അവൻ കരയാൻ തുടങ്ങി. 


കരച്ചില്‍ ശബ്ദം കേട്ട് കണ്ണൻറെ അമ്മ കരടി ഓടി വന്നപ്പോൾ കൈ ഭരണിയിൽ കുടുങ്ങിയ മിട്ടു കരടിയേയാണ് കണ്ടത്.

മിട്ടു കരടി: "ക്ഷമിക്കണം അമ്മേ.... കുറച്ചു തേൻമിഠായി തിന്നാമെന്നു  വെച്ച് ഞാൻ കൈ ഭരണിക്കുളളിൽ ഇട്ടതാ, എൻറെ കൈ കുടുങ്ങിപ്പോയി.... ഇനിയിപ്പൊ... ഞാൻ എന്താ ചെയ്യ

കരഞ്ഞുകൊണ്ടവന്‍   അവൻ പറഞ്ഞു


കരടി അമ്മ: "അതെങ്ങനെയാ.... നിൻറെ കൈ ഭരണിയെക്കാൾ ചെറുതാണല്ലോ?.... പിന്നെങ്ങനെ കുടുങ്ങി....." 

കരടി അമ്മക്ക് കാര്യം പിടികിട്ടി.

കരടി അമ്മ: "നീയിപ്പോഴും തേൻമിഠായികള്‍ കൈയ്യിൽ മുറുക്കിപിടിച്ചിട്ടുണ്ടല്ലേ? അതിൽ പകുതി തിരിച്ചിട്ടിട്ട് കൈ എടുക്കാൻ നോക്കൂ"


മിട്ടു കരടി അനുസരിച്ചു. അപ്പൊ ദേ കൈ പുറത്തേക്കു വന്നു. കരടി അമ്മ ചിരിച്ചുകൊണ്ട് പറഞ്ഞു

കരടി അമ്മ: "കൊക്കിലൊതുങ്ങുന്നതേ കൊത്താവൂ മോനേ."


കരടി അമ്മ അവനു വേണ്ടുവോളം തേൻമിഠായി കൊടുത്തു ഏതായാലും പിന്നെ അവൻ ആഹാരം കട്ട് തിന്നാൻ നോക്കിയിട്ടേ ഇല്ല. 


Watch the Animation on YouTube


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