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THE LITTLE STREETLAMP

FOR SAROJANI

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Once there was a little streetlamp which stood at the corner of a nice neighbourhood. The streetlamp shone its light every night when the sun went down, and helped all of the people on their way home. The grown-us would walk carefully in the light of the streetlamp, and not bump into anything. The children would ride their bicycles and skateboards safely, and avoid the cracks and potholes. Everybody was happy and so was the streetlamp. He felt very important and useful.

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One night, there was a full moon in the sky.

"Oh, Look!" said the grown-ups "it is beautiful."

"Yes," said the children "and so bright."

"We've never seen anything so bright and beautiful in the sky," said the grown-ups and the children.

And they all stood around and admired the full moon.

The little streetlight grew jealous. No-one had ever called him beautiful. No-one had ever said that he was bright. And no-one had ever stood around and admired him. He grew very jealous indeed. He grew so jealous that he turned his light off. But the moon was so big and bright that the grown-ups and the children never noticed that the streetlamp had gone out!

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The next night, the moon was big and bright again, but not quite as big and bright. And the night after that, it was even smaller and dimmer.


And every night the moon grew smaller . . .


and dimmer . . .


until it was just a sliver in the sky.

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With no streetlamp and only a sliver of a moon, the street was very dark. The grown-ups bumped into the fences, and the trash cans, and even into each other. And the children hit the cracks and the potholes with their bicycles and skateboards, and fell over. And everyone was sad, and they began to cry. But they did not cry for the moon.

"Where is our streetlamp?" they cried. "Why isn't he shining? Why doesn't he help us?"

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The little streetlamp felt very sad. Because he was jealous he had not done his job. And because he had not done his job, the children and grown-ups had been hurt. He was so ashamed, he wanted to cry. But streetlamps do not cry. Instead, he turned his light back on and lit up the street.



The children and the grown-ups were very happy.



"Oh look," they said. "Here is our streetlamp. We can see now. We won't have any more accidents".



The little streetlamp was pleased and proud. He knew how important he was, and he never turned his light out again. And when people praised the full moon, he was no longer jealous.



"You may be admired for one night," he whispered to the moon "but I am needed every night."

According to Oscar Wilde, "it is the duty of every father to write fairy tales for his children". With that encouragement, I wrote this for my first daughter when she was only 2. It is not in the league of "The Happy Prince" nor "The Selfish Giant", but she loved it. Today she has completed her Bachelor's Degree at MIT, and is preparing to take her studies further.