The disciples who forgot to count themselves

Told in English, Telugu.

Long ago, in a quiet village beside a green paddy field, there lived a wise old teacher named Paramanandayya. He had a long white beard, a gentle smile, and twelve disciples who lived with him in his little ashram. The disciples were kind boys. They swept the yard, fetched water, and sang their lessons every morning. But oh, how silly they could be sometimes!

One morning, Paramanandayya called them all together.

"My dear boys," he said, "my old friend in the next village is having a festival for Sankranti. Please go and give him my good wishes. Take this basket of sweet ariselu for his family. And come back safely before dark."

"Yes, Guruvu garu!" said all twelve together. They tied their dhotis, put the basket on Ramudu's head, and set off down the mud road.

The sun was warm and the birds were singing. Soon they came to a little river. There was no bridge and no ferry, but the water was shallow, only up to their knees.

"Let us hold hands and walk across slowly," said Ramudu, who was the oldest.

So they did. Splish, splash, splish, splash. The water tickled their legs and little fish darted past their toes. Soon everyone was standing on the other bank, dripping and laughing.

Then Ramudu stopped laughing. "Wait!" he said. "Guruvu garu told us to come back safely. We must make sure nobody was carried away by the water. Let me count."

He stood in front of the others and pointed with his finger. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven."

His face went pale. "Eleven! We were twelve when we left. One of us is missing!"

"Impossible!" cried Somudu. "Let me count." He stepped out in front and counted carefully. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven."

Eleven again!

Now every disciple wanted a turn. Each boy stood in front of the others and counted. And each boy got the very same answer. Eleven. Eleven. Eleven.

Can you guess what was happening? Think... think... Each boy was counting all his friends, but he was forgetting to count himself!

But the disciples did not know that. They sat down on the riverbank, very worried.

"Our poor brother," sniffed little Gopi. "The river must have taken him."

"But who is it?" asked Somudu. "Who is missing?"

They all looked at each other. Everyone seemed to be there, and yet the number said eleven. They were so puzzled that their heads began to ache. A few of them started to cry softly, and the basket of ariselu sat forgotten on the grass.

Just then, a farmer named Venkayya came walking along the bank with his two white bullocks. He heard the crying and stopped.

"Ayyo, children, what is the matter?" he asked kindly. "Why are you all sitting here with such long faces?"

"Sir," said Ramudu, wiping his eyes, "we were twelve disciples when we left our ashram. We crossed this river, and now we are only eleven. We have counted again and again. One of our brothers is gone."

Venkayya looked at the boys. He counted them quietly in his head. Twelve. All twelve were sitting right there in front of him! He pressed his lips together so he would not laugh, because he could see they were truly upset.

"Hmm," he said, stroking his chin. "This is a serious problem. But I think I can find your lost brother. Will you do exactly as I say?"

"Yes, yes, anything!" they cried.

"Then stand up and make one straight line."

The disciples jumped up and stood in a row.

"Now," said Venkayya, "I will walk along the line and tap each of you on the shoulder. When I tap you, you must say your number out loud. Ready?"

He tapped the first boy. "One!" said Ramudu.

Tap. "Two!" said Somudu.

Tap. "Three!" Tap. "Four!" Tap. "Five!"

Can you count with them? Six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven...

Venkayya tapped the very last boy, little Gopi.

"Twelve!" shouted Gopi. Then his eyes grew wide. "Twelve? Did you say twelve? I said twelve!"

"Twelve!" cried all the disciples. "We are twelve! Our brother has come back!"

They hugged each other and danced in a circle on the riverbank. Then they ran to Venkayya and bowed to him.

"Thank you, sir!" said Ramudu. "You must have magic powers. You brought our brother back from the river!"

Venkayya laughed a big, warm laugh. "No magic, my boys. Your brother never went anywhere. When each of you counted, you counted everybody except yourself. Next time, remember to put your own name in the count too."

The disciples looked at one another. Then, slowly, they began to giggle. "Each of us forgot himself!" said Somudu. "How silly we were!"

They gave Venkayya a handful of ariselu to thank him, and went happily on to the next village. That evening, when they returned to the ashram, they told Paramanandayya the whole story.

The old teacher laughed so hard that his beard shook. "My dear boys," he said at last, "you have learned two lessons today. When you are worried, stop and check carefully before you start to cry. And never forget that you count too."

And from that day on, whenever the twelve disciples counted, each one always remembered to point to himself and say his number with a smile.

So the next time you count the people at your dinner table, what will you remember to do? That's right. Count yourself too! Good night.