Venu - Once I was a bamboo

In a quiet green forest near the Yamuna riverbank,

lived a slender bamboo named Venu,

He wasn’t wide like the neem tree,

He wasn’t tall like the sal tree,

He didn’t have a loud voice like the banyan.

Venu was gentle,

He bent with the breeze,

He listened to the wind and sang soft songs only the wind could hear, But the other trees didn’t see that.

They laughed at him.

“You’re too thin!”

“You bend too easily!”

“No one will ever choose you.”

Yet, Venu said nothing, He just smiled.

One day, a man with a big axe came to the forest.

The trees grew stiff with fear,

“He’ll cut us,” the banyan trembled,

“We are strong, He’ll want us!” said the oak,

But the man walked past the tall trees,

past the proud ones,

and stopped in front of Venu.

“This one is perfect” he said.

He cut Venu down, softly,

Wrapped him in cloth,

And took him away.

The forest fell silent.

The trees whispered, “We were right. The weak always fall.”

Far away in the cart,

Venu closed his eyes,

He didn’t cry,

He didn’t hold anger,

He simply hoped. “May I become something meaningful.”

The woodcutter took Venu home,

He didn’t turn him into firewood,

He didn’t throw him away,

Instead, he carved him, shaped him,

hollowed him gently, like he was holding a prayer.

Then he wrapped him in soft red and golden cloth,

tied a peacock feather at the top, and whispered,

“You are ready… for Him.”

He walked to a village,

where cows roamed freely,

where laughter flowed like rivers,

and joy danced in the dust.

There, waiting with a smile as wide as the sky,

stood a boy in yellow clothes:

Little Sri Krishna.

Krishna’s eyes lit up when he saw the flute,

He held it gently, staring at it silently,

Then said,

“You’ve been waiting for Me.”

He placed Venu on His lips,

And in that very moment

Venu felt alive and music was born.

Not just any ordinary music. But Mohana Gaana.

Music that made birds cry soft tears of joy,

Music that made rivers pause mid-flow,

Music that made even the proudest trees bow without wind.

Children stopped playing,

Cows stopped grazing,

Even the clouds stood still.

And the trees,

the same ones who once mocked Venu,

now swayed with the song, silent and amazed.

“Is that… him?”

“Venu? That thin bamboo?”

“The one we called weak?”

“Yes.”, said banyan

The one who bent.

Who forgave.

Who left.

Venu had no pride,

No anger,

Only peace.

He was no longer just a stick of bamboo.

He is Krishna’s voice.

The world’s first melody.

A flute that carried the music of love.

Moral:

The world may not realise your worth,

But if you stay gentle,

if you stay kind and forgive,

one day, the divine will choose you,

to carry the purpose that changes everything.