Long ago, near a quiet village, stood a little hill covered with emerald trees and soft grass.
Every evening, the village children climbed the hill to play, while their elders rested under the banyan tree below.
On this hill lived a shy young peacock named Neelkanth.
His feathers shimmered like a rainbow after rain, yet he was so modest that he rarely opened his tail.
When the sun dipped and the world grew quiet, Neelkanth loved to dance alone, his feathers spreading like a giant fan of stars.
Among the children of the village was Ananya, a bright-eyed girl who loved animals.
She had often heard her grandmother say,
“Some nights, when the moon is silver, the peacocks dance a secret dance for the gods.”
Ananya longed to see it.
One evening, after the games were over, she lingered on the hilltop while her friends went home.
The breeze carried the scent of jasmine, and the first stars winked in the sky.
Suddenly, Ananya heard a soft rustle. From behind a cluster of bushes stepped Neelkanth.
He looked around, thinking he was alone. Then, as a thin cloud drifted from the moon, a silvery glow bathed the hill.
Neelkanth began to dance.
He spun and leapt, his feathers catching the moonlight like threads of sapphire and emerald. Each step seemed to tell a story—of rain, of forests, of hidden joy. Ananya’s eyes widened in wonder. She held her breath so as not to disturb the magic.
When the dance ended, Neelkanth finally noticed her. For a moment he froze, his feathers trembling. Ananya placed a hand on her heart and whispered, “Don’t worry, beautiful one. Your secret is safe with me.”
The peacock tilted his head, as if he understood. Then he gave a gentle call, like a soft flute, and disappeared into the moonlit trees.
The next morning, the villagers noticed that the hill looked brighter, as if the moonlight had left a blessing. Ananya kept her promise. She never told anyone about the secret dance. But every full moon, she returned quietly to the hill, carrying a few grains of rice as a gift for her feathered friend.
Years later, when Ananya was grown, she would tell the village children, “Respect the mysteries of nature. Some wonders are meant to be watched in silence, not captured.”
Moral:
True beauty shines brightest when we honor it with kindness and keep its secrets safe.