I
It was a cold and bitter winter. How awful it was for the fish in the pond! The ice was thin when first it formed, but with each passing day had grown thicker, till it loomed fairly above their heads. So the koi and the carp and the loaches all held a meeting to try to come up with a solution. But nothing, it seemed, could be done, for the ice was assailing them from above. In the end, the fish adjourned the meeting, clinging fast to the hope that it would soon be spring, and each swam home with a heavy heart.
Now there lived in the pond a family of carps—a husband and his wife and their son, whose name was Little Carp.
On the night of the meeting, Little Carp could not sleep at all.
“It’s cold! It’s cold!” he wept again and again.
Ah! But there are no fireplaces or stoves at the bottom of ponds, nor are there warm blankets to crawl under, or thick pajamas to bundle up in.
His mother was sick with worry, there was nothing that she could do to comfort him.
“Hush, my darling,” she cooed, and cradled him between her fins, “Soon it will be spring.”
“When?” sobbed Little Carp, looking up at her.
“Soon,” murmured his mother.
“Really?” said Little Carp. “How do you know?”
“Because it comes every year.”
“What if it doesn’t come this year?”
“It will come . . .”
“How can you be sure?” asked Little Carp; but his mother did not answer, so he went on: “Old Mister Koi says that if spring doesn’t come, we shall die. Is that true?”
“Yes, my darling, it is true.”
“Mother, what is ‘death’?”
“Death is what happens when you fall asleep forever, when your body stops moving and you no longer feel hungry or cold. Then, your soul will depart for a faraway kingdom, to live in peace and happiness. In that kingdom, there is a big and beautiful pond, where no winter comes, and every day is as warm as a spring day.”
“Oh, Mother,” cried Little Carp, “is there really such a place?”
“Of course there is!”
“Then we should go there!”
“No,” said his mother. “Not while we are alive.”
“Why not?” asked Little Carp. “Don’t you know the way?”
“I do not,” answered his mother.
“Then we should look for it!”
“But that kingdom is for the dead.”
“Then we must die!”
“You mustn’t say that!”
“Oh, pooh!” shouted Little Carp at the top of his voice. “I don’t want to live in this pond!” And he threw a great tantrum right then and there.
So much noise did he make that Old Mister Koi, who lived next door and was a terribly poor sleeper, rushed over to see what was the matter.
“Ah!” he said finally, after the situation was explained to him. “If it is to heaven you wish to go, then you must keep the commandments of the Lord and swim in his ways.”
“And what are his commandments?” asked Little Carp.
“His commandments,” said the old koi, “are that you honor your parents and your elders; that you love your neighbors, be they in the pond or on land; and that you study hard, so that you might grow up to be a good and righteous fish. Do these things and the Lord will surely call on you to live in his glorious kingdom.”
So from that day forward, no matter how cold or tired he felt, Little Carp just smiled and waited for spring to arrive.
II
Well spring did arrive; and when it did, nowhere was there to be found a kinder, more intelligent fish than Little Carp—not in the pond, nor in the neighboring rivers. And no one was better loved, so that even the lusty koi and lovely loaches, who were older in years, took him wherever they went.
As it was spring, and small tributaries were flowing into the pond from every direction, the older fish thought it a good opportunity to introduce Little Carp to the distinguished masters of the surrounding area.
Among them was a long-eared monk, Master Rabbit, who practiced a strict vegetarian diet. Then there were the composers, maestros Bush Warbler and Cuckoo, who had just returned from their winter retreats, and whose feathers were as clear as crystal. These masters found Little Carp to be exceptionally bright and showered him with praise and filled his head with stories of life on land. And of all the stories that Little Carp heard, nothing gave him greater pleasure than those which were about human beings.
Everyone agreed that their brothers and sisters the humans were the most noble and intelligent creatures in the whole world, concluding that while foxes may make great politicians; monkeys, great entertainers; parrots, great linguists; crows, great sociologists; and owls, great astronomers—human beings outshone them all.
And while some remarked that humans were slower on foot than other land creatures, they nevertheless could ride horses and had invented many a curious device to help them move faster, such as cars, trains, and bicycles. Likewise, while humans were admittedly poor swimmers, and certainly couldn’t fly, they possessed fire-breathing fish and broad-winged birds that allowed them to move freely through water and air.
The humans were marvelous indeed!
Little Carp could listen to this talk forever, each new anecdote fanning the flames of his desire to make human contact.
III
It was a wonderful spring indeed. Every morning maestros Bush Warbler and Cuckoo traded solos over a choir of wasps and honeybees, while butterflies turned somersaults in the air; and every evening the frogs gathered for lively poetry readings and lectures that lasted long into the starry night. Sometimes Little Carp took part in these readings, and in his own innocent way spoke poetically on the kingdom of God.
“So love thy neighbor as thyself and be happy,” he often concluded, “and thee shall gain entrance to a greater, more beautiful kingdom: a kingdom without cold or hunger, or any inconvenience whatsoever, where a fish may walk upon the earth or fly across the sky, and a bird may swim beneath clear waters!”
Before long the kingdom of God and all that it represented was showing up as motifs in songs, dances, speeches, and poetry. Everyone quoted Little Carp’s sermons, even the creepy crawly things that generally lived apart from society.
And in the evening, when the faraway church-bell began to toll, the fish would rise up to the top of the water, and the frogs would sit down on their logs, and the butterflies would alight on the flowers, to listen, for it was said that the bell was being rung for the birds in the trees and the fish in the waters and the insects in the grass, and that the humans were praying for the peace and prosperity of all things. So the creatures in the pond prayed too: for the happiness of their human brothers and sisters; and their prayers, smelling of wildflowers, and glittering in the golden rays of the setting sun, rose silently to God in his kingdom.
Now the Pastor of the church had a son who, like Little Carp, was bright and well-behaved, and admired by everyone. He even had a little dog who spoke highly of him whenever he came down to the pond for to take a drink of water. And the more that Little Carp heard about this boy, the more desirous he grew to befriend him.
IV
One day there arose a commotion at the edge of the pond. When Little Carp swam over, he found some frogs engaging in what appeared to be a heated argument.
“Is everything all right?” he asked, and the frogs told him that the venerable Master Rabbit had been sitting in quiet meditation when the Pastor’s Son suddenly leapt out and, grabbing him by his two long ears, whisked him away.
Little Carp gasped. But before he could speak, Miss Swallow flew down to inform the group that Maestro Bush Warbler had been captured also. Apparently, he had been so engrossed in a composition that he was caught off-guard.
Nobody knew what to do or say.
Then, a few nights later, when the frogs were holding their monthly poetry workshop—there was a full-moon, and they agreed that in spite of the recent abductions, it would be wrong to go to sleep without paying tribute to the Moon Goddess—the Pastor’s Son appeared yet again, and carried off the most celebrated member of the group!
Rumors circulated till dawn. Nobody slept a wink. And in the morning, all the creatures assembled to discuss what was to be done about the human child who was wreaking havoc on their once peaceful community.
Little Carp attended the meeting with his parents. He felt that his world had been cast in shadow, and nothing at all made sense.
“Why does the Pastor’s Son torment us?” he asked.
“Human beings may be marvelous creatures,” answered his father; “but sometimes they get up to no good. And there is nothing more wicked than a human child. Soon enough, the banks of this pond may be lined with children bearing hooks and nets, each looking to cause us all a lot of grief with their pranks.”
“But if they do that,” cried Little Carp, “how will they get to the kingdom of God? There must be something that we can do to help them!”
But before he had finished speaking these words, Miss Butterfly arrived, fluttering here and there like a wind-blown leaf. She was dreadfully pale, and her golden wings and black antennae shook with abject fear.
A crowd formed beneath her, and everyone asked what on earth was the matter. After she had calmed down a little, she seated herself upon a flower petal, took a deep breath, and began to speak.
“It was a lovely morning,” she began. “The wasps, who had all the day to themselves, had made plans to visit the Pastor’s garden. All the garden was in bloom, awash with reds and whites and yellows. There were flowers everywhere, growing between the trees and in the flowerbeds, and all the insects seemed to be drunk on the sweet smell of nectar. So happy were the wasps that in their singing and dancing, nearly all of them had forgotten, if only for a moment, the troubles that had recently upended their world. Oh! But then the Pastor’s Son appeared with his net, and whisked a whole swarm of them away.”
The news of this most recent abduction agitated the crowd, but after much discussion, it was decided that as soon as the church-bell began to toll, Miss Butterfly should hasten to the church and ask the congregation to reign in the Pastor’s son.
Evening came, and tensions were high. None of the creatures who had gathered dared to return to their hole or nest. All that they could do was stare at each other in silence and wait for Miss Butterfly to return.
After a while, she came back, and looked to be on the verge of tears.
All at once did everyone feel their heart shrink to the width of a lotus-flower fiber.
“Lies, all lies!” cried Miss Butterfly as she landed on a flower. “We will never be welcomed into the kingdom of God.”
“Why not?” wondered the crowd.
“Because,” said Miss Butterfly, “we have no soul. Only human beings have souls, so only they will be welcomed into the kingdom of God.”
Panic-stricken voices rose up one after the other—
“You must be mistaken!”
“Perhaps you misheard them!”
“No,” answered Miss Butterfly; “for so it is written in the Book of the Lord.”
“Then where are we supposed to go?”
“It would appear,” said Miss Butterfly, “that we were put on this earth for no other reason than to bring delight to human beings and to nourish them with our flesh.” And she looked down on the crowd below, her big sad eyes full of pity and love; and awakening to the pain in her limbs, and to that of her broken heart, she fell down and died.
Put on this earth for no other reason than to nourish our human brothers and sisters!
The crowd bemoaned their fate.
Unable to contain their rage, the angry young koi yelled out, “Nonsense!” and leapt into the air as if to confront God himself, while the gentle loaches fainted, some of them sinking down to the very bottom of the pond.
Miss Butterfly had performed a selfless act, and now she was dead. Needless to say, her funeral was a solemn affair, and there was general weeping throughout. The wasps played a dirge, the warblers sang a threnody, and Mister Mole dug a small grave.
Everyone felt terribly lonely.
“How sad!” they all sighed to each other, “to live one’s life as the property of man!” and each went their own way home.
V
Once home the koi and the loaches and the frogs spent the rest of the night in tears. When day broke, no one came out to greet the sun.
Little Carp was overcome with grief. Having lost all faith in the world, he swam listlessly along a deserted edge of the pond, when all of a sudden the Pastor’s Son appeared and waded into the water with his net.
“So he’s come for more!” thought Little Carp, his body shaking with rage. He felt as though he were on fire, and began to thrash about in the water.
“Take me!” he cried, swimming into the net, “take me before you take the others, for I could not bear to watch you kill them, and would rather you kill me first!”
The Pastor’s Son ran home, laughing, and placed Little Carp on his desk.
Little Carp looked round the room. On the walls hung the skins of Maestro Bush Warbler and Master Rabbit, while on the desk lay their white bones. In a glass case were arranged rows of butterflies, old friends of his, pins piercing their hearts. And straight ahead, on a small tin tray, was the freshly dissected corpse of the celebrated frog poet who had been kidnapped the night before. His open heart twitched eagerly for Death.
In the face of these horrors, Little Carp found it impossible to breathe. He wanted to scream, but he couldn’t, his jaws were too stiff to open. All that he could do was flap himself against the desk again and again.
A short while later, the Pastor’s Son dissected Little Carp.
When he removed the heart, he saw that it was broken. He asked his parents as to how this could be, but received no answer.
How could they know that the fish was too sad?
Years went by, and the Pastor’s Son grew up to be a famous biologist. But by then the pond had become incredibly small. There were few frogs and fish left in it, and no flowers or grasses ever grew there again. In the evenings, when the faraway church-bell tolled, no creatures came out to listen.
As for myself, I have stopped going to church. And I do not care to pray to a god who has decreed that all things should serve to nourish and entertain the human race, nor do I believe that such a god even exists.
