The Squirrel and the Bridge

When Lord Rama set out to cross the great wide ocean to rescue Sita, his whole army of mighty monkeys and bears began to build an enormous bridge across the sea. Oh, they were strong. They lifted huge boulders the size of houses and hurled them splashing into the water, building the bridge stone by giant stone, closer and closer to the far shore.

Now, watching all this from the beach was one very small squirrel. And the little squirrel wanted, more than anything, to help too.

So it had an idea. The squirrel scampered down to the sand and rolled in it, this way and that, until its whole little body was coated in grains of sand. Then it raced up onto the bridge and shook itself hard, so the sand sprinkled down into the gaps between the great rocks. Then back it ran for more. Roll in the sand, race to the bridge, shake, and back again. Over and over, the tiny squirrel did its tiny part, filling the little cracks the big stones left behind.

The great monkeys saw it darting about underfoot and laughed. “What use is your little pinch of sand?” they jeered. “Get out of the way before you are squashed!” And one big monkey even flicked the squirrel aside.

But Rama saw. He reached down and gently caught the little squirrel in his hand, before it could be hurt. “Do not laugh at this small one,” he said softly to the others. “Look. This squirrel is giving everything it has, with all its heart. Its handful of sand is no smaller a gift than your mountains of stone, for both of you are giving all you can.” And Rama tenderly stroked the squirrel’s back with three of his fingers, in love and in thanks.

And they say that is why, to this very day, the little squirrels of India carry three pale stripes down their backs, soft marks left by the fingers of Rama, who knew that no kindness is ever too small to matter.