The Strangest Army Ever

Monkeys, bears, a squirrel rolling in sand. Rama didn't care who you were. If you wanted to help, you were welcome.

Rama needed an army to cross the ocean and rescue Sita. He did not have soldiers. He did not have horses. He did not have a fleet of ships. What he had was monkeys, bears, and one tiny squirrel. He welcomed every single one of them. Together, they built a bridge across the sea, and the squirrel got the most beautiful gift of all.

A Prince With No Army

In the forest of Kishkindha, in the south of India, a prince was sitting by a small fire. He was tired. His feet were dusty. His clothes had been torn by thorns. His eyes were red from not sleeping. The prince was Rama.

He had walked for many, many days. He was looking for Sita, his wife, who had been kidnapped by the demon king Ravana and carried far across the ocean to a place called Lanka. Old Jatayu, the brave eagle from the last lesson, had given his life trying to stop the kidnapping. Now Rama had to finish what Jatayu had started.

There was just one small problem. Rama had no army.

He was not a king right now. He was a banished prince in a forest. He had no soldiers. He had no horses. He had no chariots. He did not even have a single boat to cross the ocean.

What he did have was his brother Lakshmana, his bow, and his determination.

And that, it turned out, was enough. Because help was about to come from the strangest places.

A Monkey Named Hanuman

The first to come was a monkey.

His name was Hanuman. He had a long tail, a kind face, and the strongest arms in the world. (You will hear all about him in the very next chapter, so do not worry.) Hanuman bowed to Rama and said, "My king Sugriva and our whole monkey kingdom will help you find Sita."

Rama looked at Hanuman. He did not say, "You are a monkey, what use are you?" He did not say, "I need humans, not animals."

He folded his hands and said, "Welcome, my friend."

That is the first thing you should know about Rama. He never asked who you were. He only asked if you wanted to help.

A Whole Army of Monkeys and Bears

Then the others came.

Sugriva, the monkey king, came with his whole monkey army. There were thousands of them. Some climbed trees. Some swung on branches. Some had tails curled like question marks. They jumped and shouted and somersaulted around the camp.

Jambavan, an old, wise bear, came with the bear army. The bears were big and slow and gentle, with thick brown fur and small eyes. They did not jump like the monkeys. They walked steadily. Jambavan was so old that he had seen many, many things, and the other animals listened to him because he was wise.

Angada, a young monkey prince, came too. He was small but very brave.

Nala and Neela, two clever monkey-engineers, came along with their tools. Nobody knew what they did exactly, but they kept measuring trees and rocks and writing things in the sand.

From every forest, animals kept coming. Eagles. Vultures. Fast deer. A few sleepy crocodiles wandered in from the rivers. Some squirrels. A snake or two. (The good kind. Ravana's snakes stayed in Lanka.)

It was the strangest army anyone had ever seen.

Lakshmana looked at the chaos and whispered, "Brother, are we really going to fight Ravana with this?"

Rama just smiled. "Yes. We are."

The Big Problem: The Ocean

The army marched south, and they marched, and they marched, until one day they reached the very tip of India. And then they stopped.

In front of them was the ocean.

The ocean was huge. It was blue and grey and angry, with white waves crashing on the rocks. On the other side, far, far away, was the island of Lanka. You could not even see it. You could only see water, water, water.

The monkeys looked at the ocean. The bears looked at the ocean. Even the brave Jambavan scratched his head.

Hanuman looked at the ocean and said, "I can fly across. I have already done it once. But I cannot carry the whole army."

Rama looked at the ocean too. For the first time, he looked a little worried.

He sat down on the beach. He folded his hands. "Lord of the ocean," he said politely, "please let us cross. We need to save Sita."

For three days he sat. The ocean did not answer. The waves just kept crashing.

On the third day, Rama lost his patience just a little bit. He picked up his bow. He fitted an arrow to the string. He aimed it at the ocean.

The ocean panicked. A huge wave rose up, and a watery old man with a crown of seaweed came out of the foam. He was the Sagara, the lord of the ocean.

"Forgive me, Rama," said the Sagara. "I cannot dry myself up for you. That is not my nature. But I have a better idea. Build a bridge across me. I will hold every stone steady. Not one will sink. I promise."

Rama lowered his bow. "A bridge?"

The two clever monkey-engineers, Nala and Neela, stepped forward, beaming. "We can build a bridge!" they said. "That is what we have been planning all along."

The Bridge of Stones

And so the strangest building project in the whole world began.

The monkeys ran into the forest and brought back rocks. Big rocks. Medium rocks. Small rocks. Trees. Boulders. Pieces of mountain.

The bears, who were stronger than they looked, lifted enormous stones in their thick brown arms.

Nala and Neela stood at the edge of the water and shouted instructions. "Bigger stone here! Smaller one there! Tilt that one a little more!"

One by one, the stones were placed in the ocean. And one by one, they did not sink. The Sagara was keeping his promise. He held every single stone gently in his salty hands.

The bridge began to grow. A foot. A metre. Five metres. Ten. Slowly, slowly, it stretched out across the water, like a long stone road.

The whole army worked. Monkeys carried stones on their heads. Bears carried boulders on their shoulders. Even the eagles brought small rocks in their claws and dropped them in the right place.

It was loud. It was dusty. It was the busiest, happiest, noisiest construction site you can imagine.

And then, in the middle of all of it, somebody noticed a tiny little thing.

The Smallest Helper

A little squirrel had appeared.

Nobody knew where she had come from. She was small. She had a brown stripe down her back, the way Indian squirrels do. (We will get back to that stripe in a minute.) Her eyes were bright black. Her tail was the size of a feather.

She was running back and forth between the beach and the bridge.

What was she doing? The monkeys could not figure it out at first.

They looked closer. The little squirrel was rolling in the sand. Yes, rolling. Like a small furry pencil. Then she would scamper to the bridge and shake her body, so that all the tiny grains of sand stuck in her fur would fall into the cracks between the big stones.

Then she would run back to the beach and roll in the sand again.

A big monkey saw her and laughed. "Hey, little squirrel," he shouted. "What are you doing? Get out of the way! We are building a bridge for Lord Rama!"

The squirrel paused for one second. "I am helping," she said. "I am filling the cracks with sand."

The monkey laughed again. "You? You are a tiny squirrel. Your sand is like nothing. We are carrying boulders. Get out of the way before someone steps on you."

The squirrel did not say anything. She just kept rolling.

The monkey was about to push her aside. And then.

What Rama Did

A hand reached down very gently.

It was Rama's hand.

He picked up the little squirrel carefully, the way you might pick up a baby. He held her in his palm. He looked at the monkey who had been about to push her.

"What did you say to her?" Rama asked, in a very quiet voice.

The big monkey suddenly looked embarrassed. "I, um, I said her sand was nothing, my lord. I said the boulders matter, not her sand."

Rama looked at the squirrel in his palm. He stroked her tiny back, very gently, with one finger.

"Look at this little one," he said, loud enough for the whole army to hear. "She has no boulders. She has no strength. She has no army behind her. All she has is her sand and her love. And she is rolling in the sand and running back and forth, just to help."

The army went quiet. The bears stopped lifting. The monkeys stopped chattering. Even the waves seemed to listen.

"Her sand," said Rama, "is just as important as your boulders. Maybe more. Because she is doing everything she can. That is all I have ever asked from anyone. Do everything you can. The size of what you bring does not matter. The fullness of your heart does."

The squirrel looked up at him with her bright black eyes.

And Rama, with the same finger that had stroked her back, gently traced three lines down her tiny brown body.

"From today," he said, "every squirrel in India will carry these three lines. To remind everyone, forever, that the smallest helper is just as welcome as the biggest. To remind everyone that I do not look at how strong you are. I look at how much of yourself you give."

The little squirrel had three white stripes down her brown back. They are still there.

The Bridge Is Finished

With the squirrel back at work and the army back at lifting, the bridge was finished in just five days. It stretched all the way from India to Lanka, a long stone road across the angry blue ocean. The Sagara held every stone, just as he had promised.

The army crossed. Monkeys, bears, eagles, the brothers Rama and Lakshmana, and one very small squirrel. The strangest army the world had ever seen, going to rescue one woman, because their leader had asked, and because every one of them, big or small, had a place.

And Sita waited, on the other side, in a garden under a sad tree, not knowing yet that help was on the way. But that is the story for another day.

In Your Life

The next time someone tells you that you are too small to help, or too young, or too quiet, or too anything, remember the little squirrel. She did not have boulders. She had sand and a heart full of love.

And the next time you see another kid who is smaller than you, or shyer than you, or who is trying their best with very little, do what Rama did. Reach down very gently. Pick them up. Tell them that what they are doing matters. Tell them, just like he told the squirrel, that you do not look at how big they are. You look at how much of themselves they are giving.

If you ever see a striped squirrel running across a wall, look closely at the three white lines on her back. Those are Rama's fingers. They have been there for a very, very long time.