The Musical Donkey

In a dusty village, there lived a Washerman’s Donkey named Uddhata. During the day, he carried heavy loads of clothes. But at night, he was free to roam. One night, while wandering, he met a Jackal. They became instant friends. “I know a farm,” whispered the Jackal, “where the cucumbers are sweet as honey.” “Lead the way!” said the Donkey. They sneaked into the farmer’s field under the light of the moon. Crunch, crunch. The cucumbers were indeed delicious. Every night, they would meet and have a feast.

One full moon night, the Donkey was feeling particularly happy. His belly was full, the air was cool, and the moonlight was silver. “Ah!” sighed the Donkey. “What a beautiful night! The moon, the stars, the food… it makes me want to sing! I feel a song coming on.” The Jackal’s ears stood up in alarm. “Sing?” he whispered. “Friend, please don’t. We are thieves here. If you make noise, the farmers will wake up.” “You don’t understand art,” scoffed the Donkey. “Music is the language of the soul. You are just a wild animal with no taste.” “But friend,” pleaded the Jackal, “your voice is… how do I say this… very loud. It carries far.” “You are just jealous,” said the Donkey. “Listen to the melody!”

The Jackal knew it was useless to argue. “Okay,” he said. “But let me go and keep watch near the gate first. You enter your ‘concert’ after I leave.” The Jackal ran to the safe side of the fence and hid behind a bush. The Donkey took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and let it out. “HEEE-HAAAAW! HEEE-HAAAAW!” The sound shattered the silence of the night. It sounded like a rusty gate crashing down a hill. Dogs started barking. Birds flew out of trees in terror. The sleeping farmers jumped out of their beds. “What is that awful noise?” cried one. “It’s a donkey in our cucumber field!” shouted another.

The farmers grabbed buckets of water and brooms. They ran to the field. The Donkey was so lost in his song that he didn’t see them coming. “HEEE… HAAAW…” Splash! A bucket of cold water hit him right in the face. “Get out of here!” yelled the farmers, waving their brooms. The Donkey was shocked. He stopped singing and ran for his life. He jumped over the fence, wet and miserable.

The Jackal was waiting for him outside. “Well,” said the Jackal, trying not to laugh. “That was quite a performance. The audience seemed very… moved.” The Donkey hung his head. “You were right,” he admitted. “I should have kept my mouth shut.” “Come on,” said the Jackal. “Let’s go home. And maybe stick to humming next time?”

Moral of the Story: There is a time and place for everything. Listen to good advice.