It was that day of the year we had been eagerly waiting for. The King had sent his specialist to our master, a gentle shepherd.
As was the custom the specialist turns up once in a year or at the maximum twice a year to a few chosen shepherds in the country to pick the best of the sheep.
Three or four of the lucky ones are chosen from the large flock which the shepherds had been herding with utmost care. These chosen sheep are said to be taken to the exotic personal garden of the king to wander around freely with no boundaries to stop them and surrounded by pleasures no one has ever seen or heard the like of.
I always thought i was among the favorites of the shepherd, and why not as i had the best of skin and appearances and admirable manners. I even used to recommend a few names to the shepherd and the specialist to simplify the selection process.
This year the specialist had selected 5 sheep and to my surprise i was not among them, a couple of them were not even known among us and had very shabby appearances. Disappointed, I ran to the shepherd and questioned with much displeasure why i wasn’t picked even this year. He gave me the same answer as last year, ‘its not yet time’ and added ’empty the cup’ the meaning of which i couldn’t really understand.
Unable to hold my nerves i went an asked the specialist himself to give me a reason ,why do you always ignore me hinting to the fact that i deserved to be in the garden years back as I possessed much better qualities than all of them. He didn’t bother to console me, rather walked away with the selected sheep repeating these words to himself.
We don’t keep wolves in the King’s Garden.
We don’t keep wolves ..