Once upon a time, in a small village nestled between dry hills and thirsty fields, the skies had forgotten how to rain. The rivers were dry, the wells were empty, and hope was slowly fading from the eyes of the villagers. Every day, they gathered beneath the scorching sun, praying with folded hands and tearful eyes, begging the heavens for rain.
High above, in the vast sky where clouds drifted like dreams, lived a tiny, abandoned cloud named Lullu. When the gods heard the prayers of the villagers, they whispered gently to Lullu, urging her to float toward the barren village. With a hopeful heart, she drifted over the land.
The villagers looked up in joy. “Look! A cloud!” they cheered, dancing under Lullu’s shadow, believing rain was near. But one day passed. Then two. Then three. Still, not a single drop fell from Lullu.
Whispers turned into complaints. Smiles turned into frowns. “This cloud is useless,” some said. “She’s too small to help us,” others muttered. Lullu heard it all. Her heart, already small and soft, shattered with each harsh word. She felt defeated, forgotten, and floated quietly in a corner of the sky.
Still, every night, Lullu closed her eyes and prayed, not for herself—but for the village. “Dear God,” she whispered, “I want to help, but I’m too little. Please send me strength.”
One golden morning, a gentle breeze brought two majestic clouds named Megh and Mabbu. They were wise and kind, a loving couple who had traveled across lands, bringing rain and joy wherever they went. Spotting Lullu, they slowed down, curious about the lonely little cloud.
At first, Lullu avoided them, unsure if they too would mock her. But Megh and Mabbu spoke gently. “Why do you look so down, little one?”
Lullu sighed. “I want to help the village. I want to rain. But I’m too small. I’m afraid my drops won’t be enough to soak their soil or fill their wells. So I keep praying for a miracle.”
The couple smiled warmly. “Oh, dear Lullu,” Mabbu said, “you are not alone anymore.”
“Yes,” added Megh, “we are the miracle you prayed for. The God sent us to join you.”
Tears of joy filled Lullu’s eyes. With love and unity, the three clouds merged into a mighty, dark, rain-laden giant. For the first time, Lullu felt full, powerful, and ready.
The very next day was the village festival, but there was no celebration. Without water, there was no joy. People sat quietly in their homes, trying to remember better days.
Then—CRACK!—a thunderclap echoed across the sky. The villagers looked up to see a massive, deep-blue cloud hovering above. In moments, the heavens opened, and sweet, cool rain began to fall.
Children danced, elders wept with joy, and the fields drank eagerly. The village came alive with songs, laughter, and gratitude. “Thank you, God! Thank you, cloud!” they cried.
And high above, Lullu beamed with pride, no longer a tiny cloud, but a shining symbol of hope, faith, and unity.
Moral of the Story: No effort is ever too small when guided by faith. Believe in yourself, keep praying, and never give up—because miracles happen when hearts come together. Unity can turn the smallest of dreams into the biggest blessings
