THE DRAGON'S PEARL (REVISED)
Once upon a time in Shu province a widowed woman and her only
son lived in a thatched hut by the banks of the Min River. Now they were very
poor and since the mother was old and ailing the young boy from an early age
was burdened with the responsibility of providing for them both. As he loved
his mother very much, he worked very hard from dawn to dusk trying his best to
obtain a reasonable livelihood by cutting and selling grass. Many a night he
stayed awake worrying that this may not be enough to sustain them; should an
unforeseen calamity strike, it would surely mean certain ruin.
Then came a time when his worse fears were realized. That
summer a severe drought depleted their already scant reserves, and he was
forced to venture farther inland each morning in search of better grass. Even
this expanded effort had proved fruitless as what he harvested was not even
worth taking to market. Unrelenting, he ventured ever higher into the mountain,
following paths never before trod by human feet. Once more he’d scavenged most
of the morning and afternoon and being disappointed, with stooped shoulders he
resolved to head home when suddenly, over a small rise, he spotted a meadow of
verdant grass. In disbelief he rubbed his eyes and looked on anew. It still was
there. With bated breath he ran towards it. True enough, the thick luxuriant
grass, flourishing on a fertile earth was ripe for the picking. Halting for a
spell he breathed in the fragrance of this lush green treasure. Oh, how gently
they swayed, combed by the gentle breeze.
“What am I waiting for?” He quickly put an end to his daydream
and a moment later began cutting and bundling the grass. He worked well into
the afternoon, and it was only when the rays of the sun began to dim that he
reluctantly shouldered his heavy burden and made his journey home. Not before
making a mental note of the topography of the exact location however, so as to
claim the remainder on the morrow.
In the drought stricken land the proceeds from the sale of the
lush grass were far more than the weekly pay and that evening mother and son
were able to indulge for the first time ever in a more bountiful feast that
included fish, poultry and varied vegetables alongside a superior brand of
rice.
The subsequent day the boy retraced his steps joyfully
expecting to find the remainder of the patch. However, to his great amazement,
the meadow was once more fully overgrown with verdant grass. He did not stop to
wonder why but set to work at once with boundless energy and enthusiasm and
this time harvested the entire field. As he loaded up the last of his bundle
and headed home, he consoled himself by resolving to scour the area more
carefully on next occasion. There had to be a comparable field waiting to be
found somewhere adjacent to this one.
You can imagine his delight the next day in finding the same
patch re-grown so fully and perfectly he could swear it had never been touched
at all. “The field is enchanted; there is no need to look elsewhere!”
Once more he set to work, this time fearlessly harvesting all
the grass once more and returning home with his heavy burden. This he repeated
day after day as their circumstances became more comfortable, then luxuriant
and secure. They now lived happily. However, there was only one hitch; the
long, arduous, sometimes hazardous, trek had begun to wear the boy down.
Consulting with his mother on this matter the alternative suddenly presented
itself. If the patch was enchanted it could perhaps deliver the same abundance
if it was planted elsewhere, preferably at closer proximity.
With this in mind, he made the journey the following morning,
and instead of harvesting it he dug up each segment of the turf, roots, soil
and all and tied them into rolls. Midway through this toil he spotted a most
magnificent, luminescent pearl resting in a tangle of root and soil as he
rolled up the clod of turf. “Hah, what a pretty find. Mom will like this. ” He
stopped long enough to put it in his pocket then continued on with his work,
not giving it another thought.
Wrestling this heavier burden down the mountain he replanted
it at closer proximity to his home. And it wasn’t until all the patches
were laid down next to their cabin that he realized his fatigue and hunger. He
quickly got washed up and entered the home to sit at the table already laden
with food and satiate his hunger. Stomach quickly filled he leaned back for a
reprieve before they cleared the dishes. Then his hand, roaming in his pocket,
happened to touch the pearl. Elatedly he presented it at once to his
mother. Even with her failing sight she could tell its brilliance and
value, especially when it lit up the dim room with a warm glow. Fearing
losing it, his mother decided to store it in the unused old rice jar that she
kept as a memento from the lean years. It still contained those few grains of
rice they had left before their stroke of luck, just enough of them to cover
the pearl.
Following day at the crack of dawn the boy jumped out of bed
and wolfed down some bread and cheese then, careful not to wake his sleeping
mom, dashed outside to begin his harvest. What greeted him however,
wrenched his heart. There was no lush grass, just a dried withered bald patch
with a few dried brown stalks poking up from the dust. “I’ve ruined
everything.” His eyes brimming with tears he turned towards the house to relay
this terrible news to his mom. Just then a scream from the house hastened
his steps.
“What is it mama?” He shouted the moment he entered the
premise.
“Look,” She pointed at the old rice container, “See it for
yourself.”
Indeed, the moment he lifted the lid, a miracle that greeted
his eyes: the old rice container was full of fresh white, fragrant rice and, on
top, the large pearl glowed warmly.
Mother and son exchanged a knowing look. Later when the
son told his mom of his failure with the patch, it became crystal clear that
the pearl was the true source of magic. In order to be absolutely sure however,
they now placed the pearl in the money box that contained only few coins, then
carefully hid it under the bed.
The following morning, even before breakfasting the son was
asked to retrieve it, as it was too heavy and cumbersome for her to fetch. True
enough, it did feel heavier. It came as no surprise to both when, after
the lid was lifted, the bounty of cash was discovered, the pearl perched on
top.
This being proof positive they knew how to proceed from then
on. They used the magic pearl sparingly and wisely, reciprocating the
kindness of neighbours that had once aided them in their time of
need. Knowing what it is like to be poor their unstinting kindness
extended to those others, even strangers that happened to be caught in dire
straits. Despite all the goodwill, the mother and son’s apparent improved
fortunes, in time drew unwarranted attention, curiosity and some envy from
their neighbours in their small village.
The secret could no longer be contained. Through coercion and trickery,
the source of their wealth was eventually discovered. The word spread like
wildfire and soon after a mob of villagers, some friendly, a few not so
friendly, gathered by the house demanding in a loud uproar to see this phantom
pearl for themselves. Goaded to prove that the reasons for their recent
prosperity did not involve thievery, the boy foolishly fetched the pearl then
held it up for all to see. The glow at first mesmerized all the onlookers
but, far from being assuaged, the crowd grew restless and resentful.
Why should they be the sole possessors of such a gift from the
Heavens? Everyone wanted a turn at possessing it. Each coveted it; and some
demanded immediate ownership of the pearl for more righteous, personal
reasons. Tempers flared and faces became distorted with loathing, greed
and revulsion. The tumult grew increasingly uglier and the situation more
volatile.
Fearing the impending assault on himself, on his mother, or
the theft of the pearl, the boy impetuously popped the pearl into his mouth to
keep it safe. In that pandemonium, however, the boy was shoved to and for and,
giving in to reflex, the pearl dropped through his oesophagus. All at once he
was overwhelmed with the sensation of being scorched from inside the stomach;
an unbearable, searing fire consumed his innards.
“Water! Water!” Screaming, he dashed to the well at the
side of the house and, as fast as he could haul the buckets out, consuming the
water until the well ran dry. Still burning up, he ran in a frenzy to throw his
body down to the bank to the river and began to lap it up. He drank and drank,
but nothing could assuage the all-consuming sensation of burning. The
stunned villagers watched in horrified amazement as the once mighty river Min
was diminished to a trickle, then that too disappeared. As the last drop
flowed down the boy’s throat, a huge crack of thunder tore up the sky. The
Earth trembled as countless forks of lightning flashed across the sky heralding
the eruption of a violent storm and a deluge of rain that threatened to drown
them all.
“Now you’ve done it! Heaven is angered. Flee, flee for
your lives!” The shouts scattered most of the crowds. Others, with wobbling
legs, fell on their knees and covered their heads and faces in
terror. Amidst curses and lamentations, they bewailed their ill fate in
wavering voices.
Meanwhile the boy had begun to tremble uncontrollably as he
grew and grew. His desperate mother, forgetting her own terror, hung on to his
legs with all her strength, but he was beyond help. Horns sprouted on his
forehead and his eyes grew wider and larger their red glow emitting tendrils of
fire. His skin was also altered gradually but surely into scales. Now at
mammoth size, his dismayed mother watched in sad resignation, as her beloved
son transformed into a Dragon. Too late she remembered the legend of every
water dragon possessing a treasured magic pearl, and only then grasped that the
pearl had originally belonged to the dragon guarding this river.
The deluge meanwhile had filled the river once more and her
darling boy, now a dragon, started to glide towards it. With courage only
a mother has she clung onto his scaly foot but, with a gentle pull, he freed
himself. He slithered towards the torrent as his very motion threw up
mud-banks along the sides of the river. Love is a powerful bond and so,
each time that she cried out to him, the dragon did turn his mammoth body to
briefly gaze her. After an angst-ridden roar however, he slid beneath the
torrent of the river Min.
To this day the mud banks on the river Min are referred to as
the “Looking Back at Mother” banks, in memory of the boy who’d swallowed the
pearl and transformed into a mighty River Dragon. True to the boy’s generous
nature, the Dragon of the River fed and nourished the crops of the villages
along his banks from that day on, and there has never again been such a taxing
drought in that province.
The End
