One weaver, his two wives. Two daughters of two weavers, - happy and sad. Tanti, elder wife and elder daughter caress Sukhu more and more. The eldest wife does not tear apart the house and family; Just sit and eat. Dukhu and his mother cut the thread, the house is in Nico; He gets four rice in a day, and everyone eats it.
One day the weaver died. The big weaver hid all the weavers' belongings, took her daughter, and separated the sad and sad mother.
Sukhur's mother brings the big fish wrapper from the market today, brings the big lauta from the market tomorrow, cooks, grows, shows and eats Satin Satin's daughter.
Sad mother and sad day by cutting the thread at night, one day a towel, one day a towel, this is it. So he sells and gets one and a half, so he gives four meals to his mother.
One day the yarn is cut by the rat, the tulatuku is taken away. Dukhu is sitting with a cotton swab. At that time a gust of wind came and blew away the sad cotton! Even a little cotton could not bring back sorrow; At the end of the grief cried!
Then the wind said, "Don't cry, come with me, I will give you cotton." Dukhu wept and followed the wind.
On the way, a cow called out to Dukhu, "Dukhu, where are you going - will you break out of my barn?" Wiping away the tears of sorrow, the cow's barn was emptied, the straw gave water; Dia followed the wind again.
Going a little farther, a banana tree said, "Dukhu, where are you going? I am surrounded by big herbs. Will you drag them away?" Dukhu paused and tore off the banana leaves.
Going a little farther again, a Seora tree called out, "Dukhu, where are you going? Dukhu shook the trunk of Seora and picked up the leaves from the floor. After doing all the cracking, the sadness went away again.
A little distance away a horse said- "Dukhu, dukhu, where are you going, - will you give me four bunches of grass?" Dukhu gave the horse grass. Then he went home with a sad wind and went to the house in a hurry! There is no one else in the house; A splendid house, a splendid courtyard, just an old woman sitting on the dawa and cutting the yarn, in the twinkling of an eye.
Old woman and no one else, the mother of the moon is old! The wind said, "Dukhu, go to the old woman and ask for cotton, you will get it." Grief-stricken, he knelt at the old woman's feet and bowed down, saying, "Look, Ayima, the wind has taken away all my cotton.
Nice post