The Sandy Road

The Sandy Road

Once a merchant gathered a great caravan. His carts were laden with cloth, dishes, spices, and other goods that he hoped to sell in a distant city.

But between him and that city stretched a wide desert of sand.

By day the sun heated the sand so fiercely that it was almost impossible to travel over it. So caravans journeyed at night, when the air was cooler.

The merchant had prepared well. The carts carried jars of water, sacks of rice, and a supply of firewood. With the caravan travelled an experienced guide who knew how to find the way by the stars.

As soon as the sun went down, they set out.

All night long the wheels creaked softly over the sand, and a sky full of stars shone above them.

At dawn the caravan stopped. The people watered the oxen, cooked rice, stretched a large awning, and rested in the shade until evening.

Several days passed in this way.

One morning the guide said, “Only one night remains. By dawn we shall be on the far side of the desert.”

Everyone was glad.

Before the last crossing, the merchant decided to lighten the carts.

“We are nearly there,” he said. “There is no need to drag along all this extra firewood and water.”

So they left part of their supplies behind.

That evening the caravan set out again.

The guide sat in the first cart and watched the stars. But for many nights he had scarcely slept. His eyelids grew heavier and heavier.

“I will only close my eyes for a moment,” he thought.

And he fell asleep.

The oxen followed the familiar tracks. When no one guided them onward, they slowly turned aside and then turned back.

All night the caravan travelled.

Before dawn the guide woke, looked at the stars, and suddenly went pale.

“Stop!”

The carts halted.

“What has happened?” asked the merchant.

The guide looked around him in silence.

“We have come back to the place we left yesterday.”

The people could hardly believe their eyes.

There were the same tracks.

There was the place of their old camp.

And there was almost no water left.

The oxen were tired and thirsty. So were the people.

“We are lost,” someone said.

“We cannot cross the desert without water.”

“We should never have thrown away the supplies.”

One man sat down on the sand and lowered his head.

The merchant too was exhausted. He understood very well how serious their trouble was.

But he said to himself, “If I sit down now and decide that all is lost, no one will lead us out of here.”

He walked around the camp and began to study the ground carefully.

Sand.

More sand.

Stones.

And then, all at once, he saw a tiny green tuft of grass.

The merchant stopped.

“Grass does not grow without water,” he whispered. “There must be moisture somewhere beneath us.”

He called the others.

“Bring the shovels!”

They began to dig.

Sand slid back into the hole, their hands grew weary, but the pit became deeper and deeper.

At last a shovel struck stone.

Thunk!

“That is the end,” sighed one man. “A rock. We cannot go any farther.”

The merchant climbed down into the pit, pressed his ear against the stone, and stood still.

Somewhere deep below it, something seemed to murmur softly.

“I hear water!”

The people came to life again.

They brought a heavy hammer. One man tried to strike the stone, but it was useless. Another tried too.

Then the merchant’s young helper said, “Let me try.”

He stood in the pit, gripped the hammer with both hands, and struck.

Once.

The stone did not yield.

Twice.

A thin crack appeared on its surface.

“One more time!” the people cried from above.

The young man gathered his last strength and struck a third blow.

The stone split open.

Cool water rushed out from beneath it.

“Water!”

The people laughed and shouted as they filled their jars. They gave the oxen water, washed their faces, and cooked food.

Before they left, the merchant set a tall marker beside the new well so that other travellers could find water there too.

That evening the caravan set out once more.

This time the guide had rested well and did not take his eyes from the sky.

And at dawn, trees and the houses of the distant city finally appeared ahead.

The merchant looked back at the desert and said, “The greatest danger was not the sand, nor even the thirst.”

“What was it?” asked the young helper.

“The moment when everyone decided there was no point in looking for a way out.”

From then on, the people in the caravan often repeated: if you see even one green blade of grass among the sand, do not be too quick to give up. Sometimes water is already flowing beneath the hardest stone.

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨