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The Mountain of Rice

Little Timmy was assigned

A task too high

A mountain of rice

To rest on his back

As he set to deliver

To villages atop

Three distinct hills

Each higher than the other


A mountain of rice

And little Timmy



It was light when he started

For the rice was hoisted

By villagers nearby

Down from the granary

Till the village gate

Where he would start

Start to ascend


A mountain of rice

A dozen hands

And little Timmy





He started from the gate

He was all alone

Huffing and puffing

He began the ascent

As up he went

He was met

By an old wise man

In need of help

“Help me dear child,

For my knees too weak

Cannot help my eyes

To see from the peak”

“Well hop in” said Tim

And the old man sat

Atop the rice

Adding to the burden

As they climbed atop

The old man imparted

Wisdom in stories

Of dragons and knights

Of snakes and wights

And of scorpions.

Old man’s debt was paid

In knowledge shared

Timmy’s sweat rewarded

As from the peak they stared


At the first village

Where he had to deliver

The first shipment of rice

From his mountain

A mountain of rice

An old man wise

And little Timmy


As he entered the gate

The villagers stared

“You’re late, you’re late,

We’re famished, our state

You made us wait”


The old man thanked

In one last advice

“Time waits for no man”

As Timmy began

To ascend the next hill.



The village second

Was higher than the first

The road steeper

The weather harsh

And yet the mountain

Of rice had weighed

Much less than before

That gave him hope

He started from the gate

He was all alone

Huffing and puffing

He began the ascent

As up he went

He was met

By a mouse in pain

It’s efforts in vain

To climb atop

As tiny feet

Could not tread well

As they would swell

When climbing the hill

As it was meant for boots

“Well I have boots,

So hop in will you”

said Timmy in glee

As he was happy

To be of help

The cute little mouse

Deserved some rest



“Thank you master Tim,

But as you see,

My family needs

They need to come

Would you be so kind

To let them in

Along with me

They’re not much you see”

Hesitant at first

Tim finally agreed

How much could a mouse weigh

To add to his problems


And as they climbed

Tim’s caravan was joined

By tiny mice

Every step of the way

Three hundred cousins

Four dozen wives

Two hundred grandparents

And a thousand little kids



But Tim’s mountain

Got no heavier

For the mice were hungry

They dug into the rice

And ate their weight’s worth


“It’s the least we can do”

They said in unison

Little Timmy thought it fair

As he reached atop

The second hill


A mountain of rice

A mountain of mice

And little Timmy


As he entered the gate

The villagers complained

“Where is the rice,

Oh no, not the mice

There’s no food to eat”

Now they would suffer

And Tim was to blame



“But the old man said,

To help others in need

Should the day ever come

You find yourself

In trouble deep

That they would come

Would come to help

To lighten your feet”

The villagers wailed

“Of course he would preach

To help others, that leech

For he was himself

In need for help

So he shaped your mind

To believe in kind

So that his kind

Can flourish”


Tim now confused

His beliefs shattered

He questioned things

And then decided

That all that mattered

Was the last shipment of rice

Atop the third hill

He would embark

Though now it was dark



The village third

Was higher than the second

The road steeper

The weather harsh

And yet the mountain

Of rice had weighed

Much less than before

That gave him hope


He started from the gate

He was all alone

Huffing and puffing

He began the ascent

As up he went

He was met

Why it was Jenna

Who was also assigned

To deliver rice

Just like Timmy

“Oh dear Timmy,

Please help me do

For my legs cannot walk

As they have been stung…”



Timmy wanted to hear

No more from her

His lack of trust

And innocence faded

A grown up lad

His self now jaded


He repeated to her

What the villagers told him

“I’m sorry dear Jenna

To each their own

I can sympathise much

But can’t help you as such

You’re own your own”


“But Tim be warned..”

He cut her short,

“I have to go

The hill is waiting

The village will not

feed itself”



As he was walking

Up the hill

He was met

By a man suave,

All charm and no talk

He offered his hand

To shake with Tim’s

He reached his hand

To shake the man’s

It was too late

When he realised

A scorpion move

Under his sleeve

Crawled up to Tim

And stung his hand

Leaving him senseless



And as he fell

He could see

The charming man

Dig his hand

Into Tim’s mountain

His mountain of rice


When hope was lost

He suddenly heard

Tiny footsteps

Storm the hill



The mice you see

Had met the old man

Who bitterly taught

That they had brought

Only sorrow to Tim

Even though they thought

That they had helped

By eating his rice


Now fuelled by guilt

And the strength of rice

The mice swarmed the man

They flung his hat

Only to reveal

Two sharp horns

They bit him

Here and there

Till he bled

And made his way

Down the hill

As fast as he could



They bit Tim too

Dug their teeth

Into his skin

Tim squealed in pain

But it was needed

For the mice

Had to suck the venom

Before it hurt Tim more.

Tim bore the pain

And as he stood

He thought of Jenna

Guilty and ashamed

He descended to her



She was lying pale

The old man by her side

“I will take her to the village

She will be fine

But that would mean

Her shipment of rice

Would not be seen

By the village atop.”

“Worry not old man,

For I will take

Her shipment of rice

For friendship’s sake.”

said Tim as he

Picked up the rice

Two mountains on his back

He thanked the mice.


He made his way

Huffing and puffing

Puffing and sweating

Two mountains of rice

Nested on his back

Each step he took

Took him closer

And yet the top

Seemed so far away



Till at last he reached

Atop the hill

He looked at the gate

He managed a smile

He was finally done


A mountain of rice

And a mountain of rice

And little Timmy

As he entered the gate

The villagers rejoiced

They would not be hungry

For when the winter came


They cared not

To ask about Jenna

Tim expected nothing less.


Some did complain

About how he was late

About how it was less

But he did not care

For he was done

He turned around

And hurried down

Down the hill

To meet Jenna



Poem by Prawigya Pariyar

AI generated Images by Dalle 3


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