Ekalavya

Told in English, Telugu.

Long, long ago, at the edge of a deep green forest, there lived a boy named Ekalavya. His father, Hiranyadhanus, was the chief of the Nishada people, the forest folk who knew every tree, every stream and every bird call by heart.

Ekalavya loved the forest. But more than anything else, he loved the bow and arrow. Every morning he would stand by the river and watch the kingfisher dive, quick as a flash. "One day," he whispered to himself, "my arrows will fly just like that."

Now, in those days, the greatest teacher of archery in all the land was Dronacharya. He lived in Hastinapura and taught the young princes of the royal family, the Kauravas and the Pandavas. Among them was a prince named Arjuna, who practised so hard that Drona had promised him, "Arjuna, I will make you the finest archer in the world."

One day Ekalavya packed a little food, picked up his simple bow, and walked a very long way to find Drona. When he reached the place where the princes were learning, he folded his hands and bowed low.

"Respected teacher," he said, "my name is Ekalavya. Please teach me archery. I will work hard every single day."

Drona looked at the forest boy. He looked at the princes standing nearby. Then he shook his head slowly. "I am sorry, child. I teach only the princes of this kingdom. I cannot take you as my student."

Ekalavya's heart felt heavy, like a stone dropped in a well. But he did not argue. He bowed once more, touched the dust near Drona's feet, and walked back into the forest.

Now, what do you think he did next? Did he give up? Did he throw away his bow?

No. Ekalavya went deep into the woods and found a quiet clearing. He gathered soft clay from the riverbank, and with patient hands he shaped it, little by little, until it looked just like Dronacharya. He set the clay figure under a big tree and placed fresh flowers in front of it.

"You will be my guru," he said softly. "I will practise in front of you every day, as if you are watching me."

And he did. When the sun rose, he practised. When the rain fell, he practised. When his arms ached, he rested a little and then practised again. Each time he shot an arrow, he looked at the clay figure and imagined his teacher nodding. Days became months, and months became years. His arrows grew faster and truer, until they could hit a falling leaf before it touched the ground.

One day, the princes came to that very forest for a hunt. A dog was trotting along with them. The dog wandered ahead, sniffing here and there, until it came upon a young man with long hair, dressed in deerskin, practising with his bow. The dog began to bark. Woof! Woof! Woof! It would not stop.

Ekalavya needed quiet to practise. So, quick as lightning, he shot seven arrows, one after another, so that they filled the dog's open mouth and gently held it shut. And here is the amazing part. Not one arrow hurt the dog. Not even a little scratch!

The surprised dog ran back to the princes. When they saw it, their eyes grew wide.

"Who could shoot like this?" asked Bhima.

"Seven arrows, so fast, and not one wound," said Arjuna quietly. "I cannot do this."

The princes followed the dog's trail and found Ekalavya standing in his clearing.

"Who are you?" they asked. "And who is your teacher?"

Ekalavya smiled proudly. "I am Ekalavya, son of Hiranyadhanus. And my teacher is the great Dronacharya."

Arjuna's face fell. He went straight back to Drona. "Gurudeva," he said, "you promised that no student of yours would be better than me. But in the forest there is a boy who says he is your student, and he shoots better than I do!"

Drona was puzzled. He walked with Arjuna into the forest. When Ekalavya saw his teacher, the real Drona, coming towards him, his face lit up like a lamp at Deepavali. He ran forward and bowed at Drona's feet.

"Gurudeva! You have come! I learned everything by practising in front of your image. Please, accept me as your student."

Drona was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, "If you are truly my student, then you must give me guru dakshina, a thank-you gift for your teacher."

"Anything, Gurudeva," said Ekalavya at once. "Ask, and it is yours."

Drona said slowly, "Give me the thumb of your right hand."

The whole forest seemed to go still. Even the birds stopped singing. Without the right thumb, an archer cannot pull the bowstring the same way. Ekalavya knew this. And yet, he did not cry out. He did not run away. With a calm face and a steady heart, he gave his teacher what he had asked for, and bowed.

After that day, Ekalavya still practised with his bow, using his fingers. His arrows still flew, but no longer as swiftly as before. And Arjuna went on to become the great archer Drona had promised.

Many children, when they hear this story, feel that it was not fair. Maybe you feel that way too, and that is perfectly all right. It is good to have a kind heart that cares about fairness.

But here is something wonderful to remember. Thousands of years have passed, and people everywhere still speak Ekalavya's name with love. They remember a boy who wanted to learn so much that he made a teacher from clay. They remember how hard he worked when no one was watching. And they remember how big his heart was, so big that he gave his most precious gift without a single complaint.

So, the next time something feels hard to learn, think of Ekalavya, practising under his big tree, day after day. Can you be as steady as he was? I think you can.