Once upon a time when the world was young, the Sun, the Moon and the Wind went to dine with their uncle and aunt. Thunder and Lightning. Their mother, the Sky, blessed them, and wishing them a merry party, waited for their return.
Now, both the Sun and the Wind were very greedy and selfish little boys. They ate all the rich food that was given to them by their uncle and aunt. They did not think of their poor hungry mother, who was sitting at home praying that they be happy and enjoy themselves at the party. The gentle little moon alone did not forget her mother. Of every dainty dish that was put before her, she kept a little to take away to her mother.
‘Well children, what have you brought for me?’ said the mother of the Sun, the Moon and the Wind, when they returned home at night.
‘What do you mean woman?’ asked the Sun, who was her eldest child, insolently. ‘What do you expect me to bring for you? I went to dinner to eat and enjoy myself. Not to bring food for you! Besides, you cannot appreciate such delicacies as we were given – with your coarse ways of eating!’
‘To be sure!’ echoed the little brat Wind. ‘You don’t know how to eat!
Nor can you grind, because you have no teeth in your mouth! And how could you expect us to spoil our silk clothes by stuffing up our pockets with food for you! It is rude to fill our hankies with food. It is not done in good houses. But how should you know of manners, good or bad?
‘Don’t be so rude, brutes! interrupted the docile Moon. ‘It seems you don’t know manners, talking to our mother like that! Then, consoling the old woman, she said, ‘Mother, taste this dinner I have brought for you. It is a little of everything we were given.’
‘May you live long, my Moonchild!’ said the old woman. And she turned indignantly to her sons: ‘The curses of Heaven shall fall on your two heads. You, my eldest, you went out to feast and never thought of your old mother, though she slaves for you all day! You shall roast in eternal fire!
Your rays shall be scorching hot! You will burn all that you touch. And men will hate you when you appear in your pride! . And you, my little scamp Wind! Greedy and selfish! You will always blow in dry weather and shall parch or shrivel all you touch. Men shall detest you when you are about!. ..And you, my sweet daughter, you who thought of your mother, you shall flourish always! You will be cool! Calm! Soft! Beautiful! Men and women will be full of love when they see you. And they will sing to you and call you blessed!
This is why the Sun is hated when it shines too hotly. The Wind is despised when it blows strongly. And the Moon is loved by all.
A Folktale sourced by Nikita Sud from ‘Indian Folk Tales’ by Anand Mulk Raj
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