Once upon a time in the heart of Orissa, in a humble village dotted with palm and mango trees, lived a kind-hearted yet impoverished woodcutter named Birsa. His life was as straightforward as his heart — sincere in his endeavors and brimming with integrity. Day in and day out, he ventured into the surrounding forest, returning with a bounty of timber which he sold to a local merchant. His earnings were modest, barely enough to sustain his simple life. But contentment was a treasured friend of his, making him wealthier than kings in his own unique way.
One sweltering afternoon, while chopping trees near a serene river, his solitary axe slipped from his calloused hands and plunged into the river’s abyss. The river was notoriously deep, its depths impenetrable to the ordinary man. His one means of livelihood was lost, swallowed by the silent river. Despair encased him, as he wondered how he would continue to provide for his humble existence. His heart heavy with worry, he beseeched the Goddess, his plea sincere and resolute.
Touched by his devotion, the Goddess materialized before him, her ethereal presence illuminating the surroundings. “What troubles you, my child?” she asked, her voice resonating with motherly affection. The woodcutter narrated his predicament, humbly requesting her aid to retrieve his lost axe.
With a graceful motion, the Goddess reached deep into the river. She emerged holding a silver axe, its gleam rivaling that of the moon. “Is this your axe?” she asked. The woodcutter glanced at the silver spectacle and gently denied. Undeterred, the Goddess delved into the river again, this time retrieving a golden axe that shimmered with an uncanny brilliance. “Could this be your axe?” she inquired, highlighting its high value. But the woodcutter, true to his honest nature, denied again. “I cannot hew trees with a golden axe. It holds no utility for me,” he stated firmly.
A smile played upon the Goddess’ lips as she admired his unwavering honesty. Once more, she plunged her hand into the river and this time, presented him with his familiar iron axe. “Could this be the axe you lost?” she asked, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Yes! This is mine! Thank you!” the woodcutter exclaimed, relief washing over him.
Moved by his sincerity, the Goddess gifted him all three axes as a reward for his truthfulness. Thus, the humble woodcutter’s honesty bore fruit, and his tale became an age-old testament to the power of truth, echoing throughout the village, inspiring generations to come.
