My name is Manan, and I am in the sixth grade. Of all the festivals, Diwal—a Hindu festival that is celebrated in autumn—is my favorite because I can set off fireworks during the festival.

One day, I went shopping for fireworks with my grandfather. I was looking at the brightly colored fireworks when suddenly I bumped into a little boy. All my fireworks scattered out of the bag.

I quickly bent down to pick them up. Then I noticed the boy's face was full of wonder and amazement as he stared at my fireworks. It appeared as though he had never seen any this closely. When he bent down to pick them up, I snatched them from him and quickly put them back in my bag. As I stood there looking at him, I found that his clothes were old and torn; he looked as though he had not eaten for a few days.

On reaching home, I ran out to set off the fireworks. I was fascinated by the gorgeous colors, but my wonder was short—lived. I noticed that my grandfather had gone inside the house coughing. I looked around and noticed all the smoke that may have been irritating his throat. Feeling bad for only a second, I continued lighting the fireworks one after another.

I could feel my conscience pricking me, “Manan! How can you do this? It just takes a few minutes for all the money to disappear in smoke, but the boy you met today looked like he did not even have the basic necessities of life. The children in orphanages also need love and help. Didn’t you see how your fireworks have affected Grandpa too?” Realizing the worthlessness of this temporary pleasure, I really wanted to use the money in a more rewarding way. I started thinking about my own way to celebrate Diwali.

I went up to my grandfather and told him about my plan.

Soon enough, the orphanage was filled with laughter, joy and celebration.

Hunger

When I was a young boy, my mother would place spoonfuls of vegetables onto my plate whether I wanted them or not and the rule in our family was that we always had to clean our plates. However, I rarely saw my mother eat the vegetables herself. She always served us first. She seemed never hungry.

She worked for a rich lady in town, and I always assumed that the reason why she didn’t have our tasteless meals was that she had eaten meats and sweets in the rich lady’s kitchen. Our meals were boring, and there was never enough since there were ten of us — my parents plus eight children.

One afternoon my older sisters were sick, so they couldn’t take care of me. Therefore, my mother had no choice but to bring me with her. It was a long winter day and as my father hadn’t had much work, we had even less food than usual. So I was very excited to go to the rich woman’s house.

My mother placed me in a corner while she rolled out pie crust (饼皮). Then she cooked some meat, and by the afternoon, the pleasant smell filled the kitchen and was making its way into my empty stomach. Then, a bell rang in the kitchen and my mother told me, “Don’t move” and then left.

I tried to do as told, but then I thought it wouldn’t matter if I ate just one blackberry. So I put a single blackberry into my mouth. What an explosion of flavor! The wonderful taste hitting my empty stomach was more than I could handle! Soon I was throwing blackberries into my mouth with two hands! It wasn’t until I was staring at the empty bowl that I noticed the empty, unbaked pie crust sitting on the table waiting for the berries. I looked around for more berries, but there was none. Suddenly, I heard footsteps approaching, so I quickly hid into the cupboard (碗柜).

Just at the moment, my mother entered the kitchen, following a well-dressed lady.

After the lady left, I crept(爬) out of the cupboard with tears streaming down my face.

There was once a king who often thought, “Nothing good can come to a nation whose people only complain and expect others to solve their problems.” One day, he had an idea.

Early one morning, the king disguised himself and went to a local village. He placed a largest one in the middle of the main street with gold coins under the stone. Then he hid behind a huge maple tree and watched.

The first person down the street was a milkman with his cart. He crashed into the stone, pilling the milk everywhere, “What fool put this stone here?” he shouted. He picked himself up and angrily went away.

Then a group of women came along, each balancing a pot of water on her head. One woman tripped over the stone and her water pot went crashing to the ground. She picked herself up and limped away in tears. Neither she nor her friends thought about moving the stone away.

The king watched all day as many people complained about the stone with nobody making an attempt to move it. The king was in despair. “does no one in this village feel any responsibility to keep their neighbours from harm?”

Just then, the king saw a young girl coming along. She was the daughter of a local farmer. She had been working all day and was very tired. But when she saw the stone, she said to herself, “This stone is a danger to anyone who comes down the street after dark. I’ll move it out of the way.”

After a great deal of effort, the girl pushed the stone with all her might. Imagine her surprise when she saw the gold coins where the stone had been! The king then stepped out from behind the tree.

“Oh sir,” the girl said, “does this gold belong to you? If not, we surely must find the owner, for he will certainly miss it.

The king said, “My dear, the gold is mine. I put it in the road and moved the stone over it. Now the gold is yours, because you are the only person who has learnt the lesson I wanted to teach my people.”