The Monkey King's Bridge

Told in English, Telugu.

Long, long ago, beside a wide and rushing river, there grew a giant mango tree. Its branches spread out like a green umbrella, and in the summer it was heavy with the sweetest mangoes in the whole world. They were golden and juicy, and they smelled like honey.

In that tree lived a big family of monkeys, thousands of them, and their leader was a wise and gentle monkey king. He was bigger and stronger than all the others, but he never used his strength to boss anyone around. He used it to look after them.

One day the monkey king called everyone together. "Listen, my dear ones," he said. "Some of our branches hang right over the river. If a mango falls into the water, it will float far away to where people live. And if people taste our mangoes, they will come looking for this tree. So please, every time the fruit grows on those river branches, pick it while it is still small."

"Yes, King!" all the monkeys called out. And they did as he asked, every single season.

But one year, a single mango grew hidden behind a thick bunch of leaves, and nobody saw it. It grew bigger and bigger, and riper and riper, until one evening, plop! It dropped into the river.

Away it floated, bobbing along on the water, past forests and fields, for days and days. At last it reached the great city of Varanasi, where the king of that land was bathing in the river. A fisherman spotted the golden fruit caught in his net and brought it to the king.

The king took one bite, and his eyes went wide. "I have never tasted anything so wonderful!" he cried. "Where does this mango come from? I must find that tree!"

So the king gathered his boats and his soldiers and his archers, and they sailed up the river, mile after mile. Finally, one night, under a bright moon, they found the giant mango tree. And there were the monkeys, happily eating mangoes in the moonlight.

The king frowned. "Those monkeys are eating my mangoes!" he said. "Archers, surround the tree. When the sun comes up, we will chase them all away for good."

The monkeys heard this, and they began to tremble. Little baby monkeys clung to their mothers. Old grandfather monkeys shook their grey heads. "Oh King, what will we do?" they cried. "Soldiers are on every side, and behind us is only the deep, wide river. We cannot swim across it, and it is far too wide to jump!"

The monkey king looked at his frightened family. Then he looked at the river. And he thought very hard.

"Do not be afraid," he said softly. "I will find a way."

He climbed to the very highest branch that reached over the water. He took a deep breath, and then, whoosh, he made the biggest leap of his life, all the way across the river to the other side. On that far bank he found a long, strong bamboo cane. He tied one end of it tightly to the trunk of a tree there, and he tied the other end around his own waist. Then he leapt back across the river toward the mango tree.

But, oh no! The bamboo was too short. Just a little too short. The monkey king could not quite reach the branch to tie it.

What do you think he did? Did he give up? No, he did not.

He reached out with both hands and grabbed the mango branch, and he held on tight. Now his own body was stretched out over the river, with the bamboo tied at his waist and his hands holding the tree. He had made himself into a bridge!

"Come, my children," he called. "Walk across my back. Go gently, one by one, and you will all be safe."

The monkeys could hardly believe it. One by one, they crept onto their king's back, ran along the bamboo, and jumped down onto the far side of the river. Mothers carried their babies. Young monkeys helped the old ones. On and on they came, hundreds and hundreds and thousands of little feet.

The monkey king's arms ached. His back hurt terribly. But he did not let go. Not once.

Now, the king of Varanasi had been watching the whole thing in the moonlight. At first he was cross. Then he was surprised. And then his heart grew quiet and soft, and tears came into his eyes.

When the very last little monkey had crossed safely, the monkey king was so tired and sore that he could not hold on any longer. The king quickly called his men. "Do not hurt him!" he ordered. "Spread out a soft blanket and help him down gently."

The soldiers did just that. They laid the brave monkey king on the soft blanket and gave him cool water to drink. The king sat down beside him.

"Great monkey," said the king, "why did you do this? You put yourself in pain for all of them."

The monkey king smiled a tired smile. "Because I am their king," he said. "They trusted me, and I love them. A king should not ask what his people can do for him. He should ask what he can do for his people. That is what being a leader means."

The king bowed his head. "I have ruled for many years," he said, "but tonight a monkey has taught me how to be a true king."

The king's healers looked after the brave monkey king all through the night with great care. And when the king went home to Varanasi, he never forgot that night by the river. From then on he looked after his people with all his heart, and they loved him for it.

So, my dear, the next time you see someone who needs a helping hand, remember the monkey king who became a bridge for the ones he loved.