Once upon a time there lived two friends of a poor man - Asan and Khasen. Asan cultivated a piece of land, Khasen tended his small herd, and this is how they obtained their meager food. Both friends were widowers, but Asan had a beautiful and affectionate daughter - his consolation, and Khasen had a strong and obedient son - his hope.
One spring, when Asan was preparing to go out to his field, trouble befell Khasen: jute struck the steppe, and all the poor man’s sheep died.
Full of tears, leaning on his son’s shoulder, Khasen wandered to his friend and said:
- Asan, I came to say goodbye to you. My herd has perished, and without it I will soon perish too. Hearing these words, Asan also began to cry and, pressing Khasen to his chest, said:
“My friend, half of my heart belongs to you.” Don’t refuse, accept half of my field. Comfort yourself, take the ketmen and get to work with a song.
From that time on, Khasen became a farmer. Days passed, months passed, years passed. One day Khasen was digging up his field and suddenly heard some strange ringing from under the ketmen. He hastily began to dig the ground in this place, and soon an old cauldron filled to the brim with gold coins opened before his eyes. Overwhelmed with joy, Khasen grabbed the cauldron and rushed headlong to his friend’s dugout.
“Have fun, Asan,” he shouted as he ran, “have fun, happiness has come to you!” I dug a cauldron full of gold on your land. Now you are free from need!
Asan greeted him with a friendly smile and answered:
“I know your selflessness, Khasen, but this is your gold, not mine.” After all, you found a treasure on your own land.
“I know your generosity, Asan,” objected Khasen, “but when you gave the land, you did not give me what is hidden in its depths.”
“Dear friend,” said Asan, “everything that the earth is rich in should belong to the one who watered this land with sweat.”
They argued for a long time. Finally Asan said:
- Let's end this, Khasen! You have a groom-son, I have a bride-daughter. They have loved each other for a long time. Let's get them married and give them this gold. Let our children never know poverty.
When the friends announced their decision to the children, they almost died of happiness. On the same day a cheerful wedding was celebrated. The young man and the girl settled in Khasen’s dugout, and Khasen moved to Asan. The next day, as soon as it began to get light, the newlyweds came to their father’s dugout. Their faces were preoccupied, and in their hands they held a cauldron of gold.
- What happened, children? - Asan and Khasen exclaimed anxiously. “What trouble woke you up so early?”
“We came to tell you,” the young people answered, “that it is not right for children to own what their parents neglected.” We are rich without this gold. Our love is more precious than all the treasures in the world.
And they placed a cauldron in the middle of the dugout. Then a dispute began again about who should dispose of the treasure, and it lasted until all four decided to go with the gold to a famous sage who lived far in the steppe. They walked through the steppe for many days and then came to the sage's tent. The wagon stood alone in the middle of the steppe, it was black and miserable. The travelers entered the wagon and bowed before the sage. The sage was sitting on an old felt. Next to him, two on each side, sat four of his students.
“What need brought you to me, good people?” - the sage asked those who came.
And they told him about their dispute. After listening to them, the sage sat in silence for a long time, and then, turning to the senior student, asked:
- Tell me, how would you resolve the litigation of these people in my place?
The senior student replied:
“I would order the gold to be taken to the khan, for he is the lord of all the treasures on earth.”
The sage frowned and asked the second student:
- Well, what decision would you make if you were me?
The second student replied:
“I would take the gold for myself, because what the litigants refuse rightfully goes to the judge.”
The sage frowned even more, but still calmly asked the question to the third student:
- Tell us now, how would you get out of the difficulty?
The third student answered:
“Since this gold belongs to no one and everyone refuses it, I would order it to be buried in the ground again.”
The sage became completely gloomy and asked the fourth, youngest student:
- What do you say, my child?
- Oh my teacher! - answered the younger student. - Forgive me for my simplicity, but here is my decision: with this gold, I would grow a large and shady garden in the empty steppe, so that all the tired poor people could rest and enjoy the fruits in it.
At these words, the sage rose from his seat and hugged the young man with tears in his eyes.
“Those are truly right,” he said, “who say: “Consider yourself older than yourself and the younger one, if he is smart.” Your judgment is fair, my child. Take this gold, go to the khan’s capital, buy the best seeds there and, returning, grow the garden you spoke about. And may the memory of you and these generous people who brought gold live forever among the poor.
The young man immediately put the treasure in a bag and, throwing it on his shoulders, set off. He wandered through the steppe for a long time and finally safely reached the capital of the Khanate. Arriving in the city, he immediately went to the market and began to wander among the noisy crowd in search of fruit seed traders. He wandered for a long time, looking at the strange objects and bright fabrics displayed near the shops. Suddenly, behind him, the ringing of caravan bells was heard and piercing screams were heard. The young man turned around and saw: an endless caravan loaded with amazing luggage was passing through the market square. Instead of bales of goods, the camels were loaded with live birds, thousands of birds that nest in the mountains, forests, steppes and deserts. They were tied by the paws, their wings, crumpled and frayed, dangled like rags, clouds of multi-colored feathers hovered over the caravan. With every movement of the caravan, the birds banged their heads against the camel's sides, and pitiful cries burst out from their open beaks. The young man’s heart sank at the sight of such a sight. Having pushed his way through the crowd of curious people, he approached the caravan bashi and, bowing respectfully, asked:
- Sir, who doomed these beautiful birds to such terrible torment and where are you going with them?
Caravan Bashi replied:
“We are on our way to the Khan’s palace.” These birds are intended for the Khan's table.
Khan will pay us five hundred chervonets for them.
“Will you release them if I give you twice as much gold?” - asked the young man.
The caravan bashi looked at him mockingly and continued on his way. Then the young man threw off the leather bag from his shoulders and opened it in front of the caravan bashi. The caravan-bashi stopped, not believing his eyes, but realizing what wealth was being offered to him, he immediately ordered the caravan leaders to untie the birds. As soon as they felt freedom, the birds immediately soared into the sky. There were so many of them that in an instant day turned into night, and from the flapping of their wings a hurricane swept across the earth. The young man watched the retreating birds for a long time. When they disappeared, he picked up an empty leather bag from the ground and set off on the way back. His heart rejoiced, his legs moved easily, a cheerful song flowed from his lips by itself. But the closer he came to his native place, the more bitter thoughts took possession of him and the more repentance oppressed his chest.
- Who gave me the right to dispose of other people's wealth at my whim? Was it not I who volunteered to plant a garden for the poor? What will I say now to the teacher and those simple-minded people who are waiting for my return with the seeds?
This is how the young man complained about himself. Little by little, despair completely took possession of him, and he, falling to the ground, began to cry, calling death on his head. In the end, grief exhausted him so much that he fell sound asleep. And he had a dream: out of nowhere, a lovely motley bird flew onto his chest and suddenly sang in a wonderful voice:
“Oh, good young man! Forget, forget your sadness! The free birds cannot return your gold, but they will reward you in a different way for your mercy. Wake up quickly - and you will see something that will immediately dry your tears.”
Having sung like this, the bird fluttered and flew away. The young man opened his eyes and froze in surprise: the entire wide steppe was covered with marvelous birds, busy with an incomprehensible task. The birds raked holes in the ground with their paws, dropped white seeds into them from their beaks and swept them again with their wings. The young man moved, and at the same moment the birds took off from the ground and rushed to the sky. And again the day turned into night, and from the flapping of the wings a hurricane swept across the earth. But after that, an even greater miracle happened: green shoots suddenly appeared from every hole dug by the birds. They grew higher and higher and soon turned into mighty branchy trees, luxuriously decorated with shiny leaves. Not even a moment had passed before the branches of the trees were already covered with unprecedented lush flowers, filling the air with a sweet fragrance. Then the flowers flew around, and instead of them, magnificent golden apples swayed on the branches. The majestic apple trees, covered with bark as if made of amber, were countless and countless. Between the slender trunks, lush vineyards, thickets of jida and bright lawns, covered with lush grass and bright tulips, could be seen everywhere. The shady paths were lined with delicate flower petals that had just fallen from the trees. On the sides of the paths, icy ditches lined with multi-colored precious stones gurgled loudly. And birds constantly fluttered and chirped overhead, just as beautiful and vocal as the one the young man saw in his dream. The young man looked around in amazement and still could not believe that he was seeing the garden in reality. To test himself, he shouted loudly and clearly heard his voice echoed many times. The vision did not disappear. Then he rushed with all his might to the sage’s tent and told there about everything that had happened to him.
After listening to his story, the sage, his three disciples, Asan and Khasen, and their children wished to immediately see the garden. Soon rumors about the wonderful garden spread throughout the steppe. The first to gallop to the garden were the white bone riders on their greyhound pacers. But as soon as they reached the edge, a high fence with iron gates with seven locks rose in front of them. Then they stood on carved saddles and tried to reach the golden apples through the fence. But each of them who touched the fruit immediately lost strength and fell to the ground dead. Seeing this, the white bone riders turned their horses in fear and horror and rushed off to their villages. Following them, crowds of poor people flocked to the garden from all sides. As they approached, the locks fell from the iron gates and the gates swung wide open. The garden was filled with people - men and women, old people and children. They walked along the paths, trampling the petals, and the petals did not fade; they drank water from irrigation ditches, and the water did not become cloudy; They plucked fruit from the trees, but the fruit did not decrease. All day long the sounds of dombra, cheerful songs, and loud laughter did not stop in the garden.
When the time of night came and darkness descended on the earth, a soft blue light suddenly streamed from the apples and the birds sang a quiet and sweet song. Then the poor people lay down on the fragrant grass under the trees and fell into a deep sleep, contented and happy for the first time in their entire lives.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru