Honest Woodcutter
Once, in a quiet Indian village, a humble woodcutter lived by the forest's edge.
One day, while chopping wood by the river, his axe slipped and sank deep.
He sat down, sighing, “How shall I earn my bread now?”
The river rippled, and a radiant spirit appeared, holding a golden axe.
“Is this your axe?” she asked gently.
The man shook his head, “No, mine is old and iron.”
She dived again and came up with a silver axe.
Again, he refused, saying honestly, “That’s not mine either.”
Finally, she rose with his battered axe.
He grinned, “Yes! That’s the one!”
The spirit smiled, and gave him all three.
Word spread fast, and a sly neighbor rushed to try his luck.
He tossed his axe in and waited.
The spirit appeared with the golden axe.
Before she could ask, he cried, “That’s mine!”
The spirit frowned and vanished—no axe, no reward.
He went home empty-handed and embarrassed.
The woodcutter, meanwhile, shared his new fortune humbly.
The village children loved his tale, told under banyan trees.
✨Moral: Honesty builds bridges; greed burns them.