Once, in a village in ancient India, lived a very old woman. She had no close relatives. However, the villagers were extremely affectionate and looked after her like family. They’d take turns feeding her and even helping her with her chores. She had long settled into this life until her mind played a game with her like it invariably does.
One day, while she thanked a benefactor for bringing her breakfast, the latter—in jest—told her that the old lady should be thanked in return since the cawing of her rooster in the morning helped them wake up. This got the woman thinking. And she was amused at her observation. She wondered how she had missed it all along. The sequence of events made it amply clear: the rooster cawed, the sun rose, the villagers woke up, they went to work in the fields, they sold the crops, made money, and lived a happy life. When she worked backwards, she realised that all this happiness was because of her rooster cawing in the morning.
Now everything fell into place. No longer did the villagers seem like benefactors. As a matter of fact, they were taking advantage of her. After all, what they offered her was a pittance compared to what she contributed to their overall well-being, nay, existence.
The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. She felt she was being given a raw deal. And it soon spilled over into her behaviour. She started rebuking them at the slightest pretext: bringing the lunch late or not repairing her hut. Soon, the villagers started avoiding her. This maddened the woman. She swore revenge on the villagers and decided to settle in another village.
One night, when darkness descended upon the horizon, the old woman took her meagre belongings—along with the rooster—and left the village.
The next morning, when the rooster cawed, the woman was smug as she laughed and exclaimed, ‘Without me, there won’t be any rooster, and without it cawing, the sun won’t rise. Now let’s see how those ungrateful villagers survive.
May we acknowledge this bitter truth that most of us strut around carrying such roosters in our heads, thinking the sun won’t rise till the rooster cawed? The story is a divine joke! And it’s on us!