In an ancient land,
a village stood
among the hills.
Far beyond the hills
flowed a hidden
spring of water.
The journey
to the spring
was difficult.
So the first people
who found it
left directions.
They marked trees,
stacked stones,
and recorded
the path.
The directions
were treasured.
Not because
they were valuable.
But because
they led to
something valuable.
And whenever
thirst came,
people followed them.
And drank.
Generations passed.
The spring remained.
The directions remained.
But fewer people
made the journey.
Eventually,
no one alive
had seen the spring.
Though everyone
had the directions.
They were
taught in schools.
Displayed in halls.
Studied by scholars.
Protected by guardians.
Admired by all.
Then came
a great drought.
The river shrank.
The wells fell low.
Fear spread
through the village.
The scholars interpreted.
The teachers explained.
The guardians reassured.
The villagers listened.
Yet the thirst remained.
One day, a boy
listening quietly asked,
\u201cHas anyone gone
to the spring?\u201d
The room fell silent.
At last,
a scholar replied,
\u201cThe directions tell us
everything we need to know.\u201d
The boy asked again.
\u201cYes. But has anyone
gone there?\u201d
No one answered.
The next morning,
he left alone.
At last,
he found the spring.
The water flowed
exactly where
it always had.
He knelt.
And drank.
When he returned
carrying water,
joy swept
through the village.
The spring was real.
The directions had been
true all along.
People began making
the journey again.
The drought no longer
frightened them.
Years passed.
The boy became
an old man.
Near the end
of his life,
the villagers asked
what wisdom
he had gained.
For a long while
he said nothing.
Then he spoke.
\u201cWhen I was young,
I thought
the greatest danger was
forgetting the spring.\u201d
The villagers nodded.
\u201cI was wrong.\u201d
He pointed toward
countless copies
of the directions.
Then toward paintings
of his journey.
Then toward a statue
of himself
standing in the heart
of the village.
\u201cWhen I returned,
people stopped arguing
about the directions.\u201d
A faint smile
crossed his face.
\u201cThey began arguing
about me.\u201d
The room grew still.
\u201cSome copied
my words.\u201d
\u201cSome copied
my footsteps.\u201d
\u201cSome copied
the container
I carried.\u201d
Then he looked
at the child
nearest him.
\u201cBut very few
copied the one thing
that mattered.\u201d
Then a child asked,
\u201cWhat was that?\u201d
The old man answered,
\u201cI drank.\u201d
The room was silent.
At last he said,
\u201cThe spring never asked
to be worshipped.\u201d
\u201cIt only asked
to be tasted.\u201d
Those were
his final words.
Years later,
a traveler passed
through the village.
He saw
books about the old man.
Paintings of the old man.
Statues of the old man.
And people debating
what the old man
truly meant.
Finally, he asked
a young girl,
\u201cDo people still go
to the spring?\u201d
The girl thought
for a moment.
\u201cSome do.\u201d
The traveler smiled.
\u201cThat is enough.\u201d
And he continued
on his way.
For the spring was
never in danger.
Only the thirsty were.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
In an ancient land,a village stoodamong the hills.Far beyond the hillsflowed a hiddenspring of water.The journeyto the springwas difficult.So the first peoplewho found itleft directions.They marked trees,stacked stones,and recordedthe path.The directionswere treasured.Not becausethey were valuable.But becausethey led tosomething valuable.And wheneverthirst came,people followed them.And drank.Generations passed.The spring remained.The directions remained.But fewer peoplemade the journey.Eventually,no one alivehad […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":3198,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[9],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3194","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-anagnorisis"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/manojsahi.com\/kumar\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3194","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/manojsahi.com\/kumar\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/manojsahi.com\/kumar\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/manojsahi.com\/kumar\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/manojsahi.com\/kumar\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3194"}],"version-history":[{"count":12,"href":"https:\/\/manojsahi.com\/kumar\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3194\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3714,"href":"https:\/\/manojsahi.com\/kumar\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3194\/revisions\/3714"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/manojsahi.com\/kumar\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/3198"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/manojsahi.com\/kumar\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3194"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/manojsahi.com\/kumar\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3194"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/manojsahi.com\/kumar\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3194"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}