(A COVID-19 story for children)
F ar from the world, deep in the jungles at the foot of the Himalayas, there lived an old hermit. His skinny body was covered in a yellow robe. He had a grey moustache and a grey, long beard, falling like a cataract. He was seated, cross legged, underneath a huge tree with roots hanging from the boughs down to the ground. He had been seated there years after years, his eyes closed.
It was a quiet morning. Dark clouds flew in the eastern sky. No birds sang. Flowers dropped their heads in sorrow.
The old Hermit woke up from his dream. In his dream he saw large swarms of invisible, bright and dark particles gathering in the air. The invincible bright particles were deadly. Freely, hungrily, they were flying in the streets of towns and cities. They rested on the heads, hands and parts of the human bodies of the people in the streets, in the marketplaces, in crowds, everywhere. Then they somehow got into the bodies, and choked and ate up the lungs of the people.
And so many people died. So many others were dying, dying, dying!
The old Hermit sighed. He stood up, with an earthen urn in his left hand. He took one or two steps forward. Then he soared into the wide, wide sky.
He flew over the deep forests, the winding rivers, and then over the high buildings of towns and cities. There he saw large swarms of invisible, deadly bright particles entering the bodies of the people. He stopped in the air, holding his urn open, and waved his hand. Surprisingly, the huge swarms of invisible, deadly bright particles all flew into the urn. Then the old Hermit closed the lid.
“Stay at home for a while,” his voice roared. “Clean your hands. Clean your body. Eat good food. Sleep well. Take care of yourself. And the world will take care of itself. Now!”
Amazed, the people, young and old, looked up, clasping their hands in respect. Gladly they went inside their houses.
On and on the old Hermit flew over the deep forests, the winding rivers, and then over the high buildings of towns and cities.
He saw a marketplace crowded with ugly-looking, smoked bats, and bats, and bats! Smoked scorpions and snakes, eels wriggling in plastic bowls. Little rats, dogs, and cats in cages. And some wild animals, too. Little rabbits and looked very timid in cages. Little ducks in the cages looked so sad.
The old Hermit stood in the air. Once again, he waved his hand. All the invisible, deadly bright particles flew into his open urn. Then he closed the lid.
“Be kind to animals,” his voice roared. He closed his eyes, muttered a prayer to himself, and waved his hand.
Surprisingly, smoked bats, then, came back to life, and flew away to the deep forests. Now all the cages broke open, and scorpions, snakes, eels, little rats, dogs and cats, little rabbits and ducks, and wild animals, too, they all were free and happy!
On and on the old Hermit flew over the deep forests, the winding rivers, and then over the high buildings of towns and cities.
On and on he flew over the countries under heavy threat: China, Spain, Italy, Germany, France, the United Kingdom, Belgium, Netherlands, Iran, the United States of America, and many others. There he stood in the air over the skyscrapers soaring into the sky. He waved his hand, and huge swarms of invisible, deadly, bright particles all flew into his open urn. He closed the lid.
“Stay at home,” his voice roared. “Clean your hands. Eat good food. Have a good rest. Take care of yourself. Then the world will take care of yourself.”
Then the old Hermit came to a wide, rippling river named the Ganges. He stood at the edge of the Great River. He closed his eyes, and said a prayer.
Slowly he walked into the river, holding the urn in his hand. Slowly he disappeared into the river, so did the urn in his hand.
Once again, the world was filled with fresh, clean air. Flowers came into bloom. Birds sang and twittered everywhere. Once again, people were out in the open air. They sang songs and danced merrily.
