The Melon on a String

The Melon on a String

In a Lao village, there lived a gardener who grew the sweetest melons in the whole district. He rose before dawn, carried water from the river, loosened the soil, and watched carefully so that the young plants would not dry beneath the sun. When the melons ripened, their scent could be noticed from the road. One evening, a man passed by the garden. People in the village said of him, “His hands are quick, but his conscience is sometimes late.” The man saw the largest melon, looked right and left, and thought, “The gardener will never notice one.” He climbed over the low fence and stretched out his hand. Then a voice behind him said, “And where does my melon think it is going?” The gardener stood by the gate with his arms folded. The man tried to smile. “I only wanted to check whether it was ripe.” “You do not need to hide it under your shirt to check that,” said the gardener. He decided to bring the man before the village head, who could settle the matter. But the gardener knew the clever fellow might throw away the melon on the way. So he took a strong cord, tied it around the fruit, and hung it around the man’s neck. “There,” he said. “Now the evidence will walk to the village head by itself.” “Very wise,” said the man obediently. But he was already thinking of how to get rid of the evidence. The village head’s house was far away. The road passed rice fields, a bamboo grove, and a small bridge over a stream. The sun was hot. The melon swung against the man’s chest, and the longer he walked, the more strongly he smelled its sweetness. At last he said, “May I cover my head with my scarf? The sun is so bright that my eyes are watering.” The gardener agreed. The clever fellow draped the wide scarf so that it covered both his head and the melon. As they walked, he quietly bit through the rind, then ate one piece, then another, and another. The gardener noticed nothing, because he was walking in front. By the time they reached the village, only a thin piece of rind remained from the large melon. Near the stream, the man slipped even that into the tall grass. Only the cord remained around his neck, hidden beneath his scarf. When they arrived at the village head’s house, the gardener said proudly, “This man took my melon. I even tied it to him so that he could not get rid of the proof.” The village head looked at the man. “Show me the melon.” The man spread his hands. “What melon? I have nothing.” The gardener stared. “But I myself… It was here!” He lifted the scarf. The melon was indeed gone. A few people in the yard began to giggle. “Perhaps your melon really did go for a walk,” someone joked. The gardener turned red. But the village head did not laugh. He looked closely at both men. “Being clever,” he said, “is not the same as being truthful.” He asked the man to hold out his hands. Sticky sweet juice shone on his fingers. “That is from mangoes,” the man said quickly. “Perhaps,” said the village head. “And what is this on your shoulder?” A small pale seed clung to the cloth of his scarf. “Perhaps the wind put it there.” The village head nodded. “And perhaps the wind tied a cord around your neck as well?” The people in the yard laughed again, but the village head raised his hand. “Do not laugh. Anyone can do something foolish. What matters is what a person does after it.” The man understood that there was no sense making more excuses. “All right,” he said. “I ate the melon on the way.” “Why did you not ask the gardener for one?” “Because I wanted it without working for it.” “And how much work did the gardener put into it?” The man lowered his eyes. “I do not know.” “Then you will learn,” said the village head. “Tomorrow, go to the garden. Work as long as it takes to repay one melon. Not as someone being punished, but as someone returning what he took.” The next morning, the man came to the gardener very unhappily. “What shall I do?” “First, bring water.” He soon discovered that one jar of water solved nothing. He had to walk to the river again and again. Then he weeded the beds. Then he repaired the fence. Then he tucked dry grass beneath the melons so they would not rest on damp ground. By evening, his back ached, his hands were dirty, and his shirt clung to his shoulders. The gardener cut a small melon in half. “Sit down,” he said. “Let us eat.” The man was surprised. “You will share with me after all?” “Today you worked honestly. There is no shame in sharing the fruit of honest work.” The man took a piece and chewed it slowly. “It is strange,” he said. “Yesterday’s melon was larger, but this one tastes better.” “Because this one was not stolen,” the gardener said with a smile. The next day, the man came back. “You have already repaid what you owed,” the gardener reminded him. “I know,” said the man. “But the fence on that side is leaning, too.” From then on, he sometimes helped in the garden. His quick hands proved useful for tying plants, gathering the harvest, and repairing baskets. And whenever someone in the village called him the cleverest person around, he said, “Cleverness is useful. But it is better not to spend it on things that take a whole day to put right.” The gardener always added, “And truth, however you hide it beneath a scarf, always leaves a few clues behind.”

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨