The Monkey King and the Mango Tree

In a time long, long ago, in the deep forests along the wide river Ganges, there lived eighty thousand monkeys. They leapt from branch to branch in the tall trees, ate wild fruits and berries, and slept in the soft treetops under the stars every night. They were happy and free, and the forest was their home. Their king was called Mahakapi, the great Monkey King. He was large and strong, wise and kind, and all the monkeys in the whole forest loved him with all their hearts.

In the forest there stood one tree unlike all the others. It was an ancient mango tree, as old as the mountain itself. The trunk was as thick as four grown monkeys could reach around, and its branches spread out in every direction, wide as an umbrella toward the sky. In summer the tree hung heavy with large, weighty mangoes. They were golden and orange, sweet as honey and fragrant as the finest flowers, and the monkeys loved them more than anything else in the whole forest. Every day they gathered in the tree to eat and play and sing.

But Mahakapi was wise, and he carried a secret worry inside him. Every year, when the fruits ripened and hung heavy and golden, he called his monkeys to him and spoke gravely. 'Listen carefully,' he said. 'We must pick every single mango that hangs over the river. Not one must we miss. If even one fruit falls into the water and floats down to the city where the humans live, their king will hear of this wonderful tree. And if he hears of it, he will want it.' The monkeys listened carefully and agreed with him. They understood that their freedom depended on this.

And every summer the monkeys obeyed their king. They climbed out onto every single branch and picked every mango that leaned even slightly toward the water. They were careful and diligent, and Mahakapi went around checking that nothing was left. For several years everything went well. But one year, just one single year, they missed a small fruit. It hid inside an old nest of twigs and leaves, high up near the top of the trunk, and no one had seen it. Quietly it ripened behind the nest, orange and fragrant, until one windy night it broke loose and fell with a soft splash into the black water.