The Mango Seed That Could Not Wait

Arjun ate the sweetest mango of the summer and decided, right there, to grow a mango tree. He pushed the seed into the soil behind the house, poured a mug of water on it and sat down to watch.

Nothing happened.

The next morning he ran out before brushing his teeth. No tree. He dug up the seed to check on it. It looked the same, so he buried it again.

On the third day he dug it up again. And on the fourth. "This seed is lazy," he told his grandmother.

Nani was shelling peas in the courtyard. "Come here," she said. "When you were a baby, you could not walk. Did I pull your legs every day to make them longer?"

Arjun giggled. "No."

"I fed you, kept you warm and waited. One day you stood up on your own. A seed is the same. It is working in the dark, where you cannot see. Each time you dig it up, it has to start again."

So Arjun made a promise. He would water the seed every morning and keep his hands in his pockets.

One week passed. Then two. It was the hardest thing he had ever done. Some mornings he sat on his hands.

On the nineteenth day, a tiny, curled, reddish leaf stood where the soil had been bare. Arjun shouted so loudly that the crows flew off the wall.

Nani came out, wiping her hands. "See?" she said. "It was never lazy. It was only busy."

The tree is taller than Arjun now. He still waters it every morning, and he has never dug anything up again.