The Sparrow and the Two Chests

Far, far away, in a land where the bamboo groves rustle in the breeze, there lived an old grandpa and granny. Grandpa was as gentle as the morning sun, and Granny was as grumbly as an autumn downpour.

One morning Grandpa found a little sparrow under the fence. His wing was hurt, and the poor bird could only cheep very softly.

“Oh, you poor little thing,” said Grandpa, and he carried him home cupped in his hands.

He fed the sparrow grains of rice and gave him water from a teaspoon. Soon the wing healed. But the sparrow didn’t fly away. He perched on Grandpa’s shoulder, sang him little songs and hopped after him all around the house: hop-hop, hop-hop.

“Cheep-cheep!” he said every morning to say hello.

“Good morning, my little songbird,” Grandpa would say with a smile.

But Granny grumbled:

“One more mouth to feed. All he does is make a mess and a racket.”

One day Grandpa went up into the hills to gather firewood, and Granny cooked a big bowl of thick, sticky rice porridge. Not for eating, oh no! In that land, people spread porridge like that on their laundry to make the shirts nice and smooth and stiff. Granny set the bowl on the porch to cool and went off to fetch some water.

The sparrow looked at the bowl. The porridge was white and warm, and it smelled so good… He pecked once: gulp! He pecked twice: gulp! And before he knew it, there was nothing left but the bottom of the bowl.

Granny came back, and she stamped her feet in a fury:

“Why, you feathered little thief! Where’s my porridge? Out of my house, and don’t let me ever see you again!”

She flapped her apron at him, and the frightened sparrow fluttered out through the gate and flew far away, somewhere beyond the hills.

That evening Grandpa came home, but nobody landed on his shoulder.

“Where’s my little sparrow?”

Granny put her hands on her hips:

“I chased him off, and that’s that! That’ll teach him to eat other people’s porridge.”

Grandpa didn’t say a word. He just sat on the porch for a long, long time, gazing up at the evening sky.

The next morning he took his walking stick and went looking. He walked across the fields, he walked along the path, and he called:

“Little sparrow, little sparrow, where is your home?”

He asked the heron in the marsh, but she only shifted from one foot to the other:

“Haven’t seen him, Grandpa.”

He asked the frog in the pond, and she said:

“Ribbit! Haven’t heard a thing.”

Just as the sun was sinking low, Grandpa came to a bamboo grove. The tall green stalks whispered: shh-shh-shh. And Grandpa called out once more:

“Little sparrow, little sparrow, where is your home?”

“Cheep! Here, Grandpa, over here!”

Out from between the stalks popped the sparrow, safe and sound and merry as ever, and he landed on Grandpa’s shoulder, just like old times.

He led his guest to his home. And what a wonderful home it was: a tiny house made of bamboo, with paper lanterns beside the door. Inside was the whole sparrow family: mother, father, little sisters and little brothers.

“This is the kind grandpa who healed my wing!” chirped the sparrow.

The sparrows sat Grandpa down on a soft cushion and brought him rice, sweet little cakes and hot tea. Then the young sparrows lined up in a row and began to dance: hop-hop, wings flap-flap, tails wiggle-waggle this way and that. Grandpa laughed so hard that tears came to his eyes.

But it had grown dark outside, and Grandpa got to his feet:

“Thank you, my dears. It’s time I went home. Granny’s waiting for me.”

“Wait, Grandpa,” said the sparrow. “We’d like to give you a present.”

The sparrows brought out two chests. One was big, so big that four sparrows could barely roll it along. The other was small and light.

“Choose whichever one you like.”

Grandpa scratched the back of his head.

“I’m old, and it’s a long way home. I’ll take the little one. That’s plenty for me.”

He slung the little chest onto his back, said goodbye to everyone and set off for home.

The moment he got home, Granny pounced on him:

“Where on earth have you been? And what’s that you’ve got there?”

Grandpa told her all about the sparrow and the two chests. Then he lifted the lid, and the whole house lit up! Inside lay gold, pearls as bright as dewdrops, and rolls of silk: blue, red and golden.

Granny’s mouth fell wide open. And then her eyes began to glint slyly.

“So you’re telling me there was a big chest too? Oh, you silly old thing! There must be three times as much in that one!”

The next morning, without even stopping for breakfast, she hurried off to the bamboo grove with quick little steps.

“Sparrow!” she called. “Come out, it’s me!”

The sparrow came out, though a little shyly.

“Good day, Granny.”

“No time for chitchat,” she said, waving him away. “Give me the chest. The big one!”

The sparrow sighed and pointed his wing at the big chest. Granny grabbed it, grunted, heaved it onto her back and trudged off. She didn’t even say “thank you.”

The chest was heavy, so heavy that her shoulders sagged. Granny walked a little way and thought, “Why should I lug this all the way home before I see what’s inside? I’ll just take one little peek.”

She sat down under a tree and lifted the lid: creeeak! A cold draft crept out of the chest, chilly as a deep cellar. The sun slipped behind a cloud, and the birds fell silent.

And then the spooks began to climb out of the chest.

First to hop out was a tattered old umbrella with one big yellow eye. The eye blinked and stared straight at Granny. After it flew a paper lantern with a wide black mouth, and it howled: ooo-ooo! Next a pale head came creeping out on a long, long, very long neck. The neck stretched and stretched, winding between the branches, until the head was looking Granny right in the eye. And last of all came a red giant with horns and an iron club. He thumped his club on the ground so hard that the tree shook, and he rumbled:

“Who wanted to take it a-a-all?”

“Oh, help!” cried Granny.

She dropped the chest and ran as fast as her legs would carry her. And the spooks came after her! The umbrella hopped along on its one leg: thump-thump-thump. The lantern flew over her head, howling. The long neck wriggled along behind her like a snake, and the giant stomped so hard that the path shook: boom! boom! boom!

Granny ran across the meadow, over the little bridge, past the rice fields. She lost a sandal, she lost her comb, she tripped and landed in a puddle: splash! She scrambled up and ran even faster.

Only when she reached her own porch did Granny dare to look back. There was nobody behind her. No umbrella, no lantern, no giant. And the chest was nowhere to be seen, as if it had never been there at all.

She came into the house soaking wet, her hair all a mess, wearing just one sandal. No chest, no gold, no silk. Empty-handed.

Grandpa gave her dry clothes. Granny told him everything, and then she was quiet for a long time. At last she said softly to herself:

“Oh my. I’ve grown so old, and I still haven’t grown any wiser.”

From then on, Grandpa often went to the bamboo grove to visit the sparrow. But Granny stayed at home. Nobody ever offered her a chest again, and she never asked.