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Many years ago, a little boy named Krishna lived in a small village in India.
Every morning, the women of the village would milk the cows and churn the thick, sweet cream into a golden butter. Then they would place the butter into cool clay pots.
Krishna loved butter. One day, he sneaked into a neighbor's hut and stole the pot full of butter.
Sitting under a shady tree, Krishna shared the butter with some hungry monkeys. When they were all full, he threw the pot on the ground and broke it.
The next day, Krishna sneaked into another hut in the village. But the pot full of butter was sitting on a high shelf. Krishna could not reach it. He stacked some wooden boxes under the shelf. Then he climbed up the boxes and stole the pot full of butter.
Krishna shared the butter with his friend Balarama. They had fun smearing butter on each other's faces. When they were both full, Krishna threw the pot into some bushes.
The next day, Krishna sneaked into another hut in the village. But the pot full of butter was hanging from the ceiling. Krishna could not reach it. He could not find any wooden boxes to stand on. But in the corner of the hut, Krishna found a long wooden stick. He broke the pot with the stick and ate all the butter.
As Krishna was licking butter from his fingers, a young woman entered the hut.
"Krishna, why have you stolen all the butter?" she said.
"Why do you accuse me of stealing?" Krishna asked. "There is plenty of butter in the village."
The women of the village complained to Krishna's mother. She saw the butter on Krishna's face.
"Open your mouth and let me see," she said to Krishna.
Krishna opened his mouth. But instead of teeth, tongue, and tonsils, Krishna's mother saw the whole universe. She saw the sun, the moon, and all the planets. She saw all the stars in the Milky Way. She saw the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper. She saw comets shooting across the sky.
Krishna's mother was amazed at what she saw, but she thought it was all a dream. She scolded him for stealing the butter then held him on her lap.
The next morning, the women of the village found all their pots full of sweet golden butter. And they were never empty again.
Dawn Pisturino
2008
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