Marma Folktale — The Lazy Boy

In a small village surrounded by lush greenery, a river flowed quietly by. In that village lived an orphan boy whom everyone called the “Lazy Boy.”

Soon after the boy was born, a grave illness claimed the lives of his parents. He was raised by his maternal uncle and aunt. Though his uncle treated him kindly, his aunt saw him as nothing more than a burden. Each day, as soon as the uncle left for work, his aunt would begin to mistreat him. All the household chores fell on the boy’s small shoulders.

One afternoon, after releasing the cattle into the fields, the boy sat beneath a tree to rest. He thought, “I do so much work—yet I’m still called the lazy one? Why would my aunt name me that after everything I do?” His thoughts were interrupted by his aunt’s angry voice:
“Are you going to sit around all day? I told you this morning to cut logs and gather firewood. Are my words wasted on you, you good-for-nothing?”

Sighing, the boy picked up his axe and got to work. He didn’t enjoy thinking much; his only thought was how to avoid his aunt’s scolding by doing everything she ordered. It was only natural. Since childhood, he had never known affection—only anger and harsh words.

Time passed like this. Now, he was nineteen. The previous year, his uncle had died, and the responsibility of earning for the household had fallen entirely on him. So, he went to the town in search of work and found a job at a farmer’s house. He returned home cheerfully in the evening with his wages in hand.

But trouble struck on the way—he lost the money before reaching home. Upon hearing this, his aunt exploded in rage.
“Have you lost all your sense? You’re supposed to keep money in your pocket so it doesn’t fall out! Do that from now on, understand?”

“You’re right, Aunt. I won’t make that mistake again,” the boy replied.

The truth is, when someone grows up constantly hearing scolding or fearing it, their ability to think clearly often fades.

The next day, he got a job at a town dairy. Pleased with his work, the milkman paid him with a large jug of milk. Following his aunt’s earlier advice, he tried to carry the milk jug in his pocket—and of course, spilled it all.

Hearing this, his aunt shouted again, “You fool! You’re supposed to carry a milk jug on your head! Can’t you use your brain even once?”

“You’re right, Aunt,” said the boy. “Next time I’ll be careful.”

Then he took a job at a Christian farm. After work, he was paid with a big block of cheese. He placed it on his head, as he had with the milk, but under the hot sun, the cheese melted and ran down his body.

His furious aunt hit him several times.
“Will you never learn?” she shouted. “You should have carried the cheese carefully in your hands, idiot! Get out of my sight.”

“I understand now,” the boy mumbled. “I’ll follow your instructions better next time.”

The following day, he got a job at a hotel. His pay this time was two plump little chicks. Fearing more scolding, he tried to carry them home in his palms. But, of course, the chicks escaped the moment they got a chance and ran away.

Worried, the boy knew trouble was coming.

Upon hearing about the lost chicks, his aunt pinched and twisted his ears and screamed,
“Why didn’t you bring them in a sack slung over your shoulder? Then they wouldn’t have escaped. Useless boy! I could’ve made a fine curry with those!”

“It was my fault,” he said quietly. “It won’t happen again.”

He next found work with a wealthy town farmer and was given a healthy young calf as payment. Remembering his aunt’s advice, he tried to carry the calf on his shoulder. But the calf jumped off and bounded into the jungle. Though he searched and searched, he couldn’t find it. Evening fell, and jungle sounds—growls and howls—grew louder. Terrified, he ran home.

“What happened? Why are you panting like that?” his aunt asked.

“The calf ran off into the woods. I couldn’t find it,” he replied, breathless.

“I told you to carry a calf on your shoulders? Get out of my house, you idiot!” she yelled and beat him before throwing him out.

Tears filled his eyes, and sorrow filled his heart. “Where will I go at this hour? Why couldn’t my aunt try to understand me?” he wondered.

With no other option, he gathered courage and began walking toward the town. After a while, he sat beneath a roadside tree and fell asleep from sheer exhaustion and hunger.

A woodcutter from a nearby village was walking home when he noticed the boy sleeping. Seeing his innocent face, the childless woodcutter felt a pang in his heart. Gently waking him, he asked,
“Why are you sleeping here, my child? What happened?”

The boy told him everything. After hearing it all, the woodcutter laughed kindly, then stroked the boy’s head with affection.
“You have nothing more to worry about. From today, you’ll stay with me. You’ll be my son. In our home, you’ll have food, love, and care—everything you need.”

Tears welled up in the boy’s eyes as he whispered, “Father…”
The woodcutter took him to his village. His wife embraced the boy as her own. The villagers welcomed him warmly.

The “lazy boy” soon became a skilled woodcutter. He sold the wood he chopped and gave half the money to his new parents. With the rest, he helped the poor and needy. He never turned away anyone who sought help and would risk his life to save others in trouble. He became known across the land for his kindness.

One evening, on his way home from selling wood, he heard a frightened cry from the forest. He found a deer caught in a hunter’s trap. Gently, he freed the animal and brought it home, fed it, and let it rest. Then, taking it back to the forest, he said,
“You’re safe now. Go back to your own kind.”
The deer looked back once, then disappeared into the evening mist.

The next day, he saw an old woman hobbling with a cane. She looked exhausted. He brought her under the shade of a tree and asked,
“Granny, why are you out in the afternoon heat? You look so tired.”

“I haven’t eaten in two days, son,” she said in a weak voice.
Without hesitation, the boy gave her his entire meal. She ate with deep gratitude. Before leaving, she didn’t say a word, just smiled softly at him. The boy forgot his own hunger and fatigue—he had never before met someone who had gone two days without food.

The day after, he heard flapping wings near a marsh and found a beautiful bird pierced by an arrow. He brought it home, gently removed the arrow, applied herbal medicine, and fed it well. Once recovered, he released it into the sky.

But the deer, the old woman, and the bird were not what they seemed. They were all disguises of the forest deity, sent to test the boy’s heart. Needless to say, he passed each test with compassion and grace.

That night, he dreamt of a radiant prince who said,
“You’ve proven your kind heart. You’ll suffer no more. Beneath the roots of the only teak tree in the eastern forest lies a reward worthy of your good soul.”

The next morning, the boy went to the forest, found the tree, and dug at its base. There, he discovered three jars filled with gold coins.

He stood stunned, speechless for a while. When he came to his senses, he carried the jars home with great effort.

The first thing he did with the treasure was to rebuild the village’s old, worn-down “Kyang” (temple). He decorated it with such beauty that in sunlight or moonlight, its gem-studded walls sparkled and dazzled the eyes. Even in darkness, the temple glowed. Its interior too became heavenly and serene.

Thanks to the gold, the village and his family flourished. No one lived in poverty anymore. Every house sang with joy, peace, and prosperity.

And when he heard of his cruel aunt’s misfortune, his grateful heart didn’t hesitate. He went to her and offered help.

The aunt could only stare at him—speechless, eyes wide open.