Chapter 2: Mushak – The Quick and Humble One
The next night, when the moon wore a thinner veil and the stars leaned in a little closer, the Listening Circle gathered again at the foot of the Tree of Timelessness.
Mushak scurried in first, whiskers twitching. He nibbled at the air the way others nibbled at food. Even before speaking, he paused to nibble gently at a dry root near the stone, his teeth clicking softly.
Paravani laughed gently. “Do you ever stop nibbling, little one?”
Mushak looked up, eyes bright. “No. To nibble is to live. My hunger is not only for grain, but for wisdom. And wisdom cannot be eaten in one bite—it must be taken in little pieces, chewed well, swallowed slowly. That is why I nibble. Always.”
Simha tilted his heavy head, listening. “And what is the story you promised, Mushak?”
The mouse leapt onto the smooth stone they had chosen as their seat of speaking. His voice was small, but it did not waver.
“My Master is Ganesha, Lord of beginnings, and remover of obstacles, gentle and wise. When He chose me as His vahana, the others laughed. ‘A mouse? Too small! Too weak!’ But He smiled and placed Himself upon my back. And I carried Him—not because I am strong, but because I am small.”
Bheema pricked his ears. “Smallness as strength? Explain.”
Mushak’s tail curled thoughtfully. “To be small is to fit where others cannot. To slip through cracks. To walk unseen across dangerous paths. My Master teaches: knowledge comes only to the one who becomes humble. A swollen head or banana stem cannot enter the doorway of wisdom. Only a bowed one can.”
Suka fluttered his wings. “So the lesson is not about size of body, but size of self?”
“Yes,” Mushak nodded eagerly. “To carry great wisdom, you must first become small. Small in ego. Small in pride. Small in the thought that you are greater than others. If you do not shrink these things, wisdom will not sit upon your back. It will slip away.”
Paravani’s feathers rustled like the wind clapping softly. “Ah, colorful indeed. And your nibbling—does it always remind you of this?”
“Always,” Mushak squeaked. “Knowledge is food, and food must be eaten in small bites. If you try to swallow it all at once, you will choke. My Master teaches patience. To learn is to nibble—bit by bit, day by day, until the mind grows strong enough to carry Him.”
Simha rumbled deep in his chest, not as thunder but as agreement. “Smallness, then, is not weakness. It is the way of learning. The mountain does not grow in one breath of the earth. It rises stone by stone, grain by grain.”
Mushak’s eyes shone. “Yes! To be small and humble is the first step to being full.”
The circle grew quiet. Even the night held still for the Mushaka’s words.
At last, Paravani lifted his feathers just enough to shimmer. “Tomorrow, I will tell my story—the tale of wings that fight with grace, and of battles that dance as much as they roar.”
Mushak twitched his whiskers happily. “Then I will listen, remembering that even the brightest plume can learn from a small nibble.”
The fireflies circled once, as if sealing the lesson. Small beings can carry great wisdom—and wisdom itself asks us to become small.
Just then, a low breeze stirred the Tree of Timelessness. Its roots seemed to pulse faintly, like a heartbeat hidden deep in the earth. Mushak froze, whiskers quivering. For a moment, he felt as though the tree itself was listening more closely, almost smiling. The warmth from its trunk was not wood, not leaf, but something older, something waiting.
None of them spoke of it, yet each felt it—the sense that their circle was leading toward a Presence beyond all their Masters. The Tree held the silence like a secret, whispering of a Mother whose story was still to come.
- By prateek bajpai Shisya of Gurudev Shri Praveen Radhakrishnan