There was a king who was very fond of stories. Remarkable story tellers came to his court and told him many stories. One day, the king demanded that the next story teller tell him a long, story — a never ending story.

“If the story ends, the story teller will pay with his life.”

Now, no story teller came to the court to tell him stories. The king grew desperate. He was missing his stories. He announced a huge cash reward for the next story teller.

A few days later, a traveler arrived at the king’s court. He said he would entertain the king with a story.

“Do you know what fate awaits you if your story ends?” asked the worried prime minister.

The king gave the minister an angry look.

“Yes, respected minister. I am willing to tell the story,” said the traveller.

So, the story session began.

“There lived a great king ruling over a vast kingdom,” said the story teller. “He built a huge granary to store grains grown in his land. Farmers brought cartloads of grains and soon the granary was full.”

“The mason who built the huge granary had made tiny openings for air and sunlight to pass through.”

“One day a tiny sparrow came flying. It passed through the tiny opening, picked up one little grain and flew out. It dropped the grain in its nest and came back. Then it flew back into the granary through the hole, picked up a grain, flew out, and dropped the grain in its nest.”

“What happened next?” asked the king asked impatiently.

“You will not believe what happened next. Maharaj, the sparrow flew back to the granary, picked up a grain and flew to the nest where it dropped the grain.”

“And then?” asked the king.

“And then Maharaj, it flew right back to the granary, picked up a grain…”

“No” yelled the king who was by then sick of the little bird, the granary, the grains, and above all, the story teller.

“I’ll tell you what happened,” said the king sternly. “The king ordered the mason to close the openings. The mason closed the openings. Then the bird was back, looking for grains…”

The king paused giving the story teller an angry look. “Now continue the story,” he commanded.

“Pardon me, Maharaj,” said the story teller. “You have changed the story teller. It is only fair the story be continued by the new story teller. I mean you.”

The king was tongue tied. He had to send away the story teller with the cash reward.

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