Peasie and Beansie

Peasie and Beansie

Once there were two sisters named Peasie and Beansie. They were very different.

Peasie loved to help. If she saw grain scattered on the ground, she gathered it. If she heard that someone was having a hard time, she stopped and asked whether help was needed.

Beansie was not unkind, but she was always hurrying somewhere. It seemed to her that other people’s troubles only delayed her on the road.

One day Peasie said, “Let us visit Father. It is harvest time, everyone is working in the fields, and he may be lonely at home.”

“Go if you want,” Beansie replied. “I am not going to waste a whole day on a long walk.”

Peasie took a little water and set off alone.

Soon she saw a plum tree beside the path. Dry thorny twigs lay around its roots.

“Peasie,” rustled the tree, “will you clear them away? They are troubling my young shoots.”

“Of course,” said the girl.

She carried the dry twigs aside, smoothed the earth, and went on.

A little farther along, a fire crackled in an old hearth beside the road.

“Help me,” it asked. “Ash has covered my embers, and I can hardly breathe.”

Peasie carefully cleared the hearth with a long twig. The flame became even and bright again.

Farther on stood a great peepal tree. One of its young branches had broken and hung down to the ground.

“Do not leave me like this,” rustled the tree.

Peasie tore a narrow strip from her old scarf and carefully tied the branch up.

Still farther on, a stream crossed the road. Its narrow bed was blocked with leaves and sand.

“I can scarcely flow,” murmured the stream.

Peasie moved away the stones, scooped out the leaves, and the water ran merrily onward.

She reached her father’s home tired but very happy. Her father was happy to see her too.

“How good that you came,” he said. “Sit with me and tell me how you are.”

They talked for a long time. Before she started home, her father gave his daughter a few useful things for the house and asked her to take care of herself.

As Peasie walked back, the stream shone in the sun.

“Thank you for clearing my way,” it gurgled. “Take this lovely cloth that the water brought to my bank.”

On the peepal tree, a string of beads gleamed from the branch she had tied.

“This is for your care,” rustled the tree.

By the hearth, a warm sweet flatbread smelled delicious.

“Help yourself,” crackled the fire.

Peasie broke it in half.

“I will eat one half on the road and take the other to my sister.”

And the plum tree bent toward her with branches full of ripe fruit.

“Take as much as you can carry.”

Peasie gathered plums and saved some of them for Beansie too.

When she came home with her gifts, Beansie was surprised.

“Where did you get all this?”

Peasie told her about the road, the trees, the fire, and the stream.

“Well!” said Beansie. “Then I shall go tomorrow too.”

In the morning she hurried to Father’s house. At the plum tree she heard, “Beansie, will you clear away the dry twigs?”

“No time,” she tossed back. “I am in a hurry.”

The peepal tree asked her to tie up its branch.

“Let someone else do it.”

The fire asked her to clear the ash.

“You can manage by yourself.”

The stream asked her to move the leaves.

“I did not come here to work.”

Beansie reached her father quickly, but instead of greeting him, she immediately asked, “What will you give me? You gave Peasie something!”

Her father was sad.

“I am glad to see you not because of gifts. Sit with me. Tell me how you are.”

But Beansie fidgeted impatiently and soon started back.

At the stream she saw a beautiful cloth floating on the water.

“Oh, that must be for me!”

She reached out, but the current caught the cloth and carried it away.

Something gleamed on the peepal branch. Beansie jumped, but the broken branch swayed and dry leaves showered down on her head.

By the fire, a flatbread smelled warm and sweet. Beansie hurried toward it, but the round bread rolled from its stone and stopped so far away that a bird carried it off.

And the plum tree still stood full of golden fruit. Beansie stretched toward the finest plum and caught her sleeve on a thorn.

“Why am I so unlucky?” she cried.

Beansie came home angry and hungry.

Peasie said nothing. She only placed her half of the flatbread and a plate of plums before her sister.

“Eat. You are tired.”

Beansie sat beside her in silence.

“Why do you share with me?” she finally asked. “I did not help anyone today.”

“That is exactly why,” Peasie smiled. “You can begin tomorrow.”

The next morning Beansie went down the same road again. This time she did not hurry.

She cleared the leaves from the stream, carefully tied up the peepal branch, swept the ash from the hearth, and carried away the dry thorns under the plum tree.

And do you know what? No one showered her with jewels. But the stream gurgled more clearly, the tree raised its branch, the fire crackled cosily, and the path beneath the plum tree became easy to walk.

Beansie looked around and suddenly felt happy.

Then she understood: kindness is not a bargain and not a way to earn presents. It makes the road brighter all by itself.

And if a ripe plum or a warm flatbread happens to come with it, that is even nicer.

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨