The Secret Word

The Secret Word

Once, a king had a son whom he loved dearly. The prince was curious and observant. He could listen to teachers for hours and then ask questions that made even old wise people think. When the prince grew older, the king said, “Anyone can wear a crown if it is set upon their head. But wisdom cannot be placed there from above. It must be earned.” So he sent his son to the far Country of Diamonds, where famous teachers lived. The son of the king’s chief adviser went with the prince. He was meant to study too, but he loved praise much more than learning. Years passed. The prince studied languages, numbers, history, the art of listening to people, and even a strange kind of knowledge that the teachers spoke about in quiet voices. “There is a language,” said an old lama one day, “that cannot be learned from a book. First you must learn to hear the world.” He took the prince into the garden. “What does the wind say?” “It rustles through the leaves.” “That is the sound you hear. What does it say?” The prince closed his eyes. “It says that rain may come soon.” “Good. And what does the crow say?” “It saw people on the road.” Thus began the hardest part of the prince’s studies. In time, he learned not the exact words of every bird and animal, but their signs, warnings, and the rich, picture-like language of nature. Meanwhile, his companion became more and more jealous. “When we return home, everyone will praise him,” he thought. “No one will even notice me.” After twelve years, the teachers said, “You may return.” The journey home was long. One day, the travelers lost their way on a dry plain. They had found no water for three days. The adviser’s son sat down weakly. “I cannot go any farther.” A crow flew over them and cawed loudly. The prince looked up. “We must walk south,” he said. “About five hundred steps.” “How do you know?” “The crow flew from water. It told me about a spring.” “A crow told you?” his companion asked doubtfully. “Sometimes you must do more than hear. You must understand.” They walked south and found a clear spring. Instead of feeling grateful, the adviser’s son became even more jealous. That evening, he suggested, “Let us not take the open road. We can save time through the forest.” The prince agreed. In the thick woods, his companion suddenly said, “There is an abandoned hunter’s cabin here. Let us sleep inside.” When the prince entered, the adviser’s son quietly locked the door from the outside. “What are you doing?” asked the prince. “What I should have done long ago. I will return home alone. I will say that you vanished in the mountains. All the knowledge you are so proud of will not help you here.” “Open the door!” But the other young man was already walking away. The prince understood that shouting would not help. He remembered the old lama’s lesson: “When you cannot say much, find the one word that carries what matters most.” A crow sat on a nearby branch. The prince whispered, “Abarashika.” It was a word from the secret language. It did not mean only one thing. It carried a whole picture: “My companion has deceived me, locked me in a cabin in the forest, and left alone. Whoever understands, please bring help.” The crow answered with a caw and flew away. Meanwhile, the adviser’s son reached the capital. The king came out to greet the travelers. When he did not see his son, his face went pale. “Where is the prince?” “He… disappeared on the road,” said the young man. “We were separated in a storm. I searched for him, but found nothing.” “Did he say anything before that?” The adviser’s son remembered the strange word. “Only ‘Abarashika.’” The king ordered the wise people to gather. “Who can tell me what this word means?” One person said it was the name of a star. Another thought it was a spell. A third searched for it in old books. One day passed. Then another. No one knew the answer. Among the scholars was a young helper named Samba. He did not think himself a great wise man, and because of that he listened more than he spoke. At night, Samba left the palace, sat beneath a tree, and heard birds talking. A little fledgling asked its mother, “Why are all the people so worried today?” “They are trying to understand a word brought by a crow,” said the mother bird. “Do you know it?” “I do. It is a word about a locked door in the forest, a betrayed traveler, and the road that leads to him.” Samba stood up quickly. “Show me the way,” he whispered. The birds flew from tree to tree, and Samba followed. By morning, he reached the same forest. There he heard knocking. “Is anyone there?” “Yes!” answered the prince. Samba found the bolt and opened the door. When the prince returned to the capital, the king could not speak for a long time. Then he embraced his son. “Now I understand what Abarashika meant.” The adviser’s son was summoned to the throne room. At first he denied everything. But when he saw the prince, he lowered his head. “I was afraid that beside him I would always be second,” he admitted. The prince said, “You did not become second because of what I learned. You made yourself smaller when you allowed envy to lead you.” The king did not order a harsh punishment. He removed the young man from his court position and sent him to work at a school, where he would help younger pupils and learn honesty again from the beginning. Samba was invited to study with the court’s wisest teachers. “Why me?” he asked. “I did not know the answer.” “You did something more important,” said the prince. “You listened when others wanted only to speak.” After that, the prince often told the children in the palace school, “A magical language is not always made of strange words. Sometimes its power lies in noticing a sign, hearing a quiet voice, and understanding what others walk past.” And people remembered the word Abarashika for a long time. It meant that truth can be hidden behind a locked door, but when someone listens carefully to the world, truth can still find its way out.

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨