When I was a school girl, my mother used to tell me stories while she prepared our evening meal. Of all the stories she told me I do remember one, which I try to keep in mind for all the lessons one may draw  out of it.

It is called The Cicada And The Ant.

It was a gorgeous, hot summer. Trees grew leafy and exuberant. The river seemed to giggle as it passed under the tree where the cicada was posted. The ant was down below carrying bits of food she found on the ground to transport it into her nest. She worked hard -way too hard for a hot summer day. But she didn’t stop. Here this and there that. All went into her hole.

‘Hello, hello’, the cicada cried out in a singsong, ‘aren’t you working way too hard? It’s so hot today!’

The ant looked up to the branch where the cicada was posted.

‘I Know, but we’ve to store up food. The good days don’t last long.’

She went on picking this and that to store it.

‘Ho, ho!’ The cicade chuckled and went on chanting on the tree branch.

Days passed. The cicada enjoyed watching the people laying on the grass. They had picnics. They played around and swam in the river and she entertained them with her permanent chants. The ant was down below dragging pieces of everything. ‘Oh, it’s hot today!’

The countryside started to change slowly. The green of the trees turned into the varied, autumnal hues. Few people strolled about and children had gone back to school.

The cicada laid on the branch of her tree watching the changing landscape. ‘Oh, it’s cool today!’

Until one day, she woke up to a frozen countryside and as she laid on the branch, she felt a white flake on her.

It started to snow heavily.

‘Oh, it’s cold today!’

She jumped out of her branch and went to knock at the ant’s nest.

‘Hello, hello.’ She cried out, weeping.

There was no answer. She knocked again.

She went back to her branch. Oh, it was so cold and she didn’t have anything to eat. There were no children playing around or birds chirping.

She wrapped up with one of the remaining leaves until she slowly fell asleep.

I am writing this on April 23. On such a day, two masters of world literature such as Miguel de Cervantes and William Shakespeare died. It was on April 23, 1616. On their behalf, we celebrate Book Day installing stalls of books in many of the streets of the city centre.