High in the snowy Himalayan village, fluffy white clouds floated so low they seemed to kiss the mountains. Here lived a friendly herd of woolly yaks, big and small, with thick coats that kept them warm even when icy winds howled. Among them was a young yak named Tenzu. He was curious and playful, always skipping over frozen streams and poking his nose into snowdrifts.
But when the elders spoke of the Winter Festival, Tenzu would sigh. “It sounds boring,” he told his friend Lumo, another young yak. “Why sit in a circle and share food? I’d rather race down the slopes!”
As the days grew colder, the villagers began their preparations.
They stacked dry wood for bonfires, churned butter tea, and wove bright prayer flags that danced in the wind. The yaks also had work to do. Each family brushed and decorated their animals with colourful scarves. The elders explained, “The festival is not just for fun. It is the time we thank the mountains for shelter and share our blessings with neighbours.”
Tenzu only half-listened. He dreamt of playing in the fresh powder instead. On the eve of the festival, dark clouds rolled over the peaks. A fierce snowstorm swept through the valley, covering paths and shutting doors. The villagers huddled indoors, worried about food and firewood.
Tenzu peeked outside and saw tiny bluebirds shivering on a bare branch. The sight tugged at his heart. “They must be hungry,” he thought. He remembered the storehouse of dried grass and grain the yaks had gathered for the festival feast.
Without waiting, Tenzu called to Lumo. “Let’s share our food with the little ones. They need it more than we do.”
The two young yaks pushed open the barn door and nudged out small bundles of hay.
The birds fluttered down gratefully.
Soon, other animals—rabbits, mountain goats, even a timid red panda—came to nibble.
When the storm finally passed, the villagers stepped out and saw the peaceful gathering:
animals of every kind eating together, the yaks standing guard like gentle hosts.
The village elder smiled warmly. “This,” he said, “is the true Winter Festival—when we share what we have, even in the hardest times.”
That night, under a sky glittering with stars, the villagers lit the bonfires. They offered butter tea and warm bread to every guest—human or animal. Tenzu felt a glow in his chest stronger than any game or race.
He whispered to Lumo, “Now I understand. The festival isn’t only about food or music.
It’s about caring for everyone around us.”
Lumo nodded, his breath making small clouds in the cold air.
Moral:
Celebrations are most meaningful when we share our warmth and kindness, especially during difficult times.