In a remote mountain village nestled among the clouds of the Himalayas, there lived an old couple who had no children. Each day, the old woman would light a butter lamp for Tara, the goddess of compassion, and pray, “May a child brighten our hearth before we leave this world.”
One spring morning, after mixing water from the sacred river with red mountain clay to repair a cracked oven, the old woman found herself shaping a small figure, a boy with round cheeks and folded arms. She gave him eyes of black lentils and drew a smile with a blade of straw. “If only you were real,” she whispered with a sigh.
Clay Boy lives
That night, as the prayer flags fluttered in the wind and a full moon rose over the snowcaps, a strange warmth filled the kitchen. The clay figure blinked.
“I’m hungry,” said the boy, stepping down from the hearth.
The old couple woke to the smell of roasted barley flour and butter tea being spilled all over the floor. There, standing and munching greedily, was the boy they had sculpted.
“By the gods!” the old man gasped.
They named him Tsering, which means “long life.” The old woman wrapped him in a wool shawl and fed him yak milk. Tsering grew quickly, faster than any normal child, and so did his appetite. He would eat all the tsampa, drink all the milk, chew through apples, radishes, even the leather soles of shoes when bored.
Still, they loved him dearly.
Hungry Clay Boy
But one day, the old woman said gently, “Tsering, stop eating so much. There must be balance. Even the mountain cannot keep growing forever.”
Tsering pouted, then glared. “If you won’t feed me, I’ll find food myself.”
And with that, he ran out the door, stomping down the stony path, his clay feet leaving soft prints in the dirt.
He visited neighbors and ate their food. He gobbled farmers’ barley, frightened chickens, even tried to eat a yak’s horn. Everyone complained, but Tsering shouted, “I didn’t ask to be made hungry! You made me!”
Word reached the village lama, who meditated by a frozen lake far above. He whispered to the wind, and the wind carried a lesson to Tsering’s ears:
“Even clay, when it forgets its place, must return to earth.”
But Tsering ignored the wind. He climbed higher and higher, searching for more, chasing smoke from every chimney. Eventually, he reached the king’s palace in the capital valley.
He stormed into the royal kitchen and roared, “Feed me or I’ll eat your gold!”
Tsering Eats more
The frightened cooks brought heaps of dumplings, yak butter cakes, and rice. But it wasn’t enough. The king ordered his guards to stop him, but Tsering’s clay fists knocked them aside.
Then, from the corner of the palace garden, a soft voice called, “Tsering.”
It was an old nun, holding a mirror.
“You’ve come far, child,” she said.
Tsering puffed his chest. “I will eat everything. No one can stop me.”
The nun nodded, then held up the mirror. “Then see what you’ve become.”
Food to Clay
Tsering looked, and saw not a child, but a lumpy figure of cracked clay, with hollow eyes and a mouth dark as a cave.
He fell to his knees. “I didn’t want this. I only wanted… more.”
The nun whispered, “You were born from longing, but never taught restraint. Go back. Return what you’ve taken.”
Tsering stood slowly. He walked back through the valley, leaving behind food at every doorstep, giving water to the yaks, bowing to the farmers, and weeping at his parents’ door.
The old couple embraced him, their tears soaking into his chest.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
In the morning, Tsering was gone. In his place stood a small clay figure on the hearth, arms folded, eyes of black lentils, a smile of straw.
They kept him there until the end of their days, and even long after, the villagers would tell their children:
“Clay must know when to hold, and when to yield, lest it crack beneath its own hunger.”
Moral of the Story
The tale of The Clay Boy Who Ran Away teaches a timeless lesson from Himalayan wisdom: Desire without discipline leads to self-destruction. It reminds us that love must be paired with guidance, and that unchecked longing, even if born from loneliness, can harm others and ourselves. True growth comes not from having more, but from knowing when enough is enough
Knowledge Check
1. What is the moral of the folktale “The Clay Boy Who Ran Away”?
The story teaches a lesson about restraint and consequences, showing how unchecked desire can lead to harm and how returning to balance restores harmony.
2. What cultural group does the tale “The Clay Boy Who Ran Away” come from?
This folktale originates from the Himalayan (particularly Tibetan or Nepali) storytelling tradition in Asia.
3. Why did Tsering, the clay boy, run away?
In the tale, Tsering ran away out of hunger and frustration, which sets the story into motion and reflects his unchecked nature.
4. How does the folktale “The Clay Boy Who Ran Away” explain a cultural or symbolic trait?
The story reflects how clay represents both creation and fragility in Himalayan cultures, symbolizing the importance of balance and humility.
5. Is “The Clay Boy Who Ran Away” considered a trickster tale, ghost story, or moral fable?
“The Clay Boy Who Ran Away” is a moral fable that reflects Himalayan values about discipline, community, and self-awareness.
6. How is this folktale relevant to modern readers?
The message of “The Clay Boy Who Ran Away” remains relevant as it teaches timeless truths about controlling desire, being mindful of others, and finding fulfillment through balance.
Origin: This folktale comes from the Himalayan (Tibetan/Nepali) tradition in Asia.
