The Old Man, the Donkey, and the Pack Saddles

 Once upon a time, in a small village near the edge of a great forest, there lived an old man who 

owned a donkey. The old man was not very rich. He worked hard every day, carrying goods 

from one place to another with the help of his donkey. The donkey was strong, but he was also 

stubborn and had a mind of his own.

One morning, the old man led his donkey out to a grassy field so that the animal could eat fresh 

grass and rest. The sun was shining brightly, and the air was warm and pleasant. The old man 

sat on a rock nearby, watching his donkey graze peacefully. He sighed as he thought about how 

hard life had always been for him. No matter who ruled the land, the poor people like him always had to work just as hard. Suddenly, the peaceful morning was disturbed by the sound of shouting and the clatter of 

horses’ hooves. The old man stood up in fear, his heart pounding in his chest. He could see a 

group of soldiers riding toward the village, their flags waving in the wind. The village was 

about to be attacked! The old man knew that if he and his donkey were caught, they would be 

forced to work for the new rulers, or worse, they could be taken as prisoners. Terrified, the old man turned to his donkey and said, “Hurry! We must run away before the 

soldiers arrive! If they catch us, they will take everything we have and make our lives even 

harder!”

But the donkey did not move. He kept chewing his grass, as if nothing was happening. He flicked his tail lazily and looked at the old man with his big, calm eyes. The donkey then spoke, “Tell me something, master. If these soldiers win and take over the 

village, will they make me carry two pack saddles instead of one?”

The old man was puzzled by this strange question, but he answered honestly, “No, I don’t think 

so. A donkey is always given only one pack saddle to carry.”

The donkey nodded wisely. “Then why should I care who my master is? If I always have to 

carry the same load, it does not matter to me who is in charge.”

The old man was surprised by the donkey’s words. He thought about them carefully. It was 

true—no matter who ruled the land, the poor and the hardworking people like him always had 

to do the same work. Their struggles did not change, only the name of the person in power did.

The old man sighed and shook his head. “You are wiser than I thought, my dear donkey,” he 

said. “You have shown me a great truth today.”

And so, instead of running away, the old man and his donkey continued with their day, 

accepting whatever fate would bring. The enemy soldiers arrived, and a new ruler took over the village, but for the poor folk, life remained the same. The old man still worked hard, and 

the donkey still carried his pack, just as they always had.

Days turned into weeks, and the village slowly adjusted to its new rulers. The taxes increased 

slightly, and some laws changed, but the daily life of the villagers remained the same. The old 

man continued to wake up early, gather his goods, and set out on his journey to sell them in the 

marketplace. The donkey carried the load just as he had before, never complaining, never 

questioning the authority of those who ruled.

One day, as they made their way along a dusty road, they met another traveler. This traveler was a young merchant, well-dressed and riding a fine horse. He looked down at the old man and his donkey and asked, “Good sir, how do you fare under the new rule? Are things better or 

worse than before?”

The old man thought for a moment and then replied, “I cannot say that much has changed. I 

still wake up before dawn, I still walk these same roads, and I still sell the same goods. The 

only difference is the name of the one who collects the taxes.”

The merchant smiled. “Ah, you are wise, old man. People often worry about who rules over 

them, but for those who must work to survive, life does not change much.”

As the merchant rode away, the old man turned to his donkey and patted him gently on the 

head. “You were right, my friend. No matter who sits on the throne, we must still do our work.” The donkey flicked his ears and kept walking, steady and strong, carrying the same load he 

always had. The old man smiled, feeling a little wiser than before. And so, life went on in the 

village, just as it always had, with the people working, the rulers changing, and the donkey 

carrying his load, one step at a time.

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