THE DIMINUTIVE FLUTE PLAYER

Once, a poor woman gave birth to a son, who was no bigger than her thumb, and he fell through a hole in the flooring. “Where is my child? Where is my child?” the mother cried and looked everywhere. “Here I am,” replied the child, climbing up a post and reappearing through the hole in the flooring. He had a flute in his hands and he played a melodious tune on it, which delighted the mother. “Mother, I have played you a tune,” he said, “so please cook me a basket of rice?” And when it was cooked, he gulped it down in no time.
Every day the diminutive flute player did nothing but play upon his flute and eat a basket of rice. The father, who was a poor cultivator, felt that he would soon be ruined by this glutton of a son. So he decided to kill the diminutive flute player, and asked the consent of his wife. But the woman loved her son dearly, and would not agree for a long time. In the end, as the man was so persistent in asking for her consent, she agreed. However, she stipulated that the killing should be done indirectly and as if accidentally and that, if the child should remain alive' after four attempts, no further attempt should be made on the child's life.

The next day, the father asked his diminutive son to accompany him to the forest. When they arrived at the forest the father started to cut down a big tree and, just as the tree was about to fall, he asked his son to stand where the tree would fall. The child took his place, and the tree fell. The father thought that the boy had been killed and went home quickly. Soon after, the diminutive flute player arrived carrying the tree on his shoulder and shouting “Where shall I put the tree, father? I caught it on my shoulder and brought it here myself for firewood.” So the first attempt to kill the flute player failed.

The next day the father took the son for a walk on the high road, and when a herd of elephants approached the father said to the flute player, “Stand in the middle of the road, and do not go away until I come back.” The child obeyed and stood in the middle of the road, playing on his flute. The elephant-drivers could not see the flute player as he was small, but heard the flute. “Make way, make way,” they shouted, looking up and down the road, but as they could not see anybody they drove the elephants forward. When the elephants were nearly on top of him the diminutive flute player jumped inside the hoof-mark of a cow, and the heavy feet of the elephants passed above his head harmlessly, The father came back, and was sorely disappointed to find, his son alive and playing on his flute as usual.

The next morning the father asked the flute player to come fishing with him, and father and son went off in a boat. When the boat was some distance from the shore the father gave a push and the flute player felt into the water. The father rowed swiftly back to the shore thinking that his son was drowned, but he found the flute player waiting for him on a sandbank near the shore, astride a crocodile. “Father,” greeted the son cheerfully, “I have caught a big water lizard for you.” He stepped onto the boat, and the crocodile swam away. Thus, the father's third attempt to kill his son also ended in failure.

The next morning the father took the diminutive flute player to the thickest part of the forest, and slipped behind some trees. The flute player thought that his father had lost him, and wandered about the jungle crying “Father, I am here!” The father went home, swiftly. At last the flute player decided to go home by himself. As he passed by a tiger's den the animal, smelling human flesh, rushed out but it stood stock still when it heard the flute player's music. The tiger was frightened of the little man who could make such a lot of loud noises. The flute player jumped on to the tiger's back and drove it towards his house, still playing on his flute.

When he reached his home the child shouted cheerfully, “Father, I have brought a big cat for you.” He jumped down and the tiger ran back to the forest. The mother took the diminutive flute player in her arms in great joy, and the father had to admit that he was a wonderful little fellow after all.

The End.

Photo Credit: Google Image
Author: Maung Htin Aung
Steemed by: Henry Aung (Kachin)