Indian mythology: Death

a long time ago, in a small village, a poor farmer lived.

the food he had harvested from the ground was not enough to sustain his family.

later, their harvests declined year by year, while the number of family members increased, making life more difficult.

extreme poverty forced the farmer to steal a chicken one day and to find a place far from the village to eat himself.

so nobody can see.

no one will ask him to share his food.

the farmer grabbed a small pot and ran to a very far hillside, where he found a suitable ground, raised a pile of fire, cleaned the chicken, picked up a few vanillas and put them in the pot, and started cooking chicken soup.

chicken soup is ready.

hungry man brought the pot down from the fire, waiting for it to cool down some.

just as he was about to get hungry, he saw a stranger coming to him.

hungry hands and feet kept their pots in the bushes and scolded themselves, saying, "this is bad luck!" if you are afraid of anything, you can't escape the eyes of a human being." "good morning, friend." "devil...

oh, no, god bless you!" the hungry man replied.

"what are you doing here? "i just want to rest here.

where are you going?" hungry people keep murmuring: go, go!

"can i ask you for something to eat while i'm here?" i thought so, but he said to the man whenever he wanted to: "look at me, i have nothing but a broken shirt.

listen, i'm so hungry in my belly! "well, why are you on fire?" "it's just soaking and warm!" didn't you hide a little pot in the little bushes behind your back? there's a cooked chicken in the pot, and i smell it in it." "yes, i have a chick, but i can't give it to you, not even my own wife and children.

i came here secretly for a meal, even once, and i was satisfied.

i can't give you this chick."