Why the Onion Became Bitter
In ancient times, sweet Onion and bitter Watermelon lived as neighbors. Back then, the onion was as large as the watermelon is today, and the watermelon was as small as the onion is now. Since the onion grew big and sweet, it was watered regularly. It didn’t have to worry about itself. Carefree, the onion grew plump and heavy. There was just one problem: it was bored.One day, behind the fence, the onion heard a rustling sound. It knew it wasn’t in any danger, but out of sheer boredom, it began to listen. The rustling turned into heavy breathing. The onion wanted to see who had appeared, but it was too lazy. Finally, it couldn’t resist and turned its bulky body. Behind the fence, from the clumps of earth, a frail Plantain was struggling to emerge, drenched in sweat. The onion was well-watered, so no matter how hard it tried, it couldn’t stay silent.
"Listen, you bare-bellied one," it said to the watermelon, "do you hear? The Plantain is panting again."
"It’s not easy for the poor thing," replied the skinny watermelon.
"What poor thing? Just a brazen intruder," the onion retorted indignantly. "No sooner had they thrown him off the bed than he clung to the clumps of earth."
"It’s hard for him," sighed the watermelon.
"You keep saying ‘hard, hard,’" the onion snapped angrily.
It regretted speaking to the watermelon. It turned away and fell silent. But boredom always plagues the well-fed, and the onion even stooped to conversation:
"How did you manage to break through the hard clumps of earth, Plantain?"
"I make do with little and work hard," whispered the Plantain faintly, as it was still buried up to its shoulders.
"They cut you here, and you sprout there. They uproot you, and you break through nearby. Where do you get so much strength of spirit that you don’t perish in endless persecution?"
"Strength of spirit grows from struggle," the Plantain replied a little louder, freeing its chest from the crushing clods.
"From struggle, you say? And what makes you strong?"
"Strong from my enemies!" the Plantain answered boldly.
The onion couldn’t stand loud tones—satiety craves contemplative peace. So it frowned and asked with a smirk:
"Tell me, Plantain, what is the hardest thing in the world: to die of thirst under the scorching sun, to be crushed by a hoof, uprooted, or cut down by relentless Iron?"
"The hardest thing is not to hurt another."
The onion, surprised, raised itself slightly and gasped: the Plantain was already raising its children. The onion grew frightened: "If its children grow, they’ll drink all the water people use to water me. Then I’ll have to fetch water from the hard, greedy, dark depths myself. No, no—not that!" Terrified, the onion shouted:
"I-ron! Come here!!!"
In vain, the watermelon tried to stop it. The onion shouted louder and louder.
Iron appeared and began to hack away at the rebel. It hacked for living... and on its own land.
"O Onion!" cried the dying Plantain. "Idleness and laziness bred envy in you and led you to betrayal! If there is justice in the world, may it make you as bitter as my fate! And may the watermelon, for its kindness, become as full as my hopes! And as sweet as Iron was sharp. Sharp, but blind. It felt it had destroyed the Plantain, but it didn’t see that it was sowing its children, watered not by moisture but by tears and the sap of the Plantain itself."
Soon, the Plantain’s children began to emerge near its grave. In the loosened and moist earth, they found it easier, and they grew faster. The onion saw them—bitterness burned it and began to dry it out. In helpless rage, it gnawed at itself, shrinking before everyone’s eyes.
The watermelon also saw the Plantain’s children—sweet joy filled its soul. And when the grandchildren broke through to the light, they saw the onion as it is now. And they saw the watermelon as it is today...
More fairy tales
