This tale has evolved in meaning for me over the years I have been telling it. In my first tellings I saw it simply as a tale of 'exchanges' advocating that we all have something to exchange with each other. A few years later I described it thus; ' A chain tale with variants throughout the world. In this version the child wishes for a drum and through his own generosity initiates a process of exchanges and eventually has his wish granted. The drum is a metaphor for the folktale. Only when we freely give it away through the act of telling do we unleash its power to serve and transform our lives.'
Now I see this tale also as a metaphor for letting go of attachments. If we are to move on and experience all that the moment has to offer, we must be prepared to release whatever we are holding on to.
Every 'thing' has a purpose, but what many of us tend to do is horde 'things' for a time when we think it may be useful. But if we are honest, these 'things' often clutter our space and clog up our lives.
It is the same with storytelling: the clangor of critical words, both real and imagined, clutter our minds and the fear of failure, ridicule and dismissal, clog our channels of communication. Tell the tale, release your fear and receive love. The rewards far outweigh the risks.
THE DRUM
There was once a boy who wanted a drum. He would walk around pretending to play a drum and singing,
'Tum de dum, I want a drum te dum, tum te dum, I want a drum.'
One day his mother said that she was going to market and asked the boy if there was something she could bring back for him.
He replied,
'Tum de dum, I want a drum te dum, tum te dum, I want a drum.'
His mother smiled and went on her way.
After she had sold her wares she had a few coins left to buy rice and spices, but no money to buy a gift for her son. She looked around until she found a a straight, strong stick. She picked it up and took it home.
When the boy saw his mother his eyes lit up.
'I have brought you something from the market,' she said.
The boy was excited. His mother held out her hand and gave him the stick.
'Thank you,' he said, knowing that his mother could not afford to buy him a drum.
But he immediately began to tap the stick against his side and sing.
'Tum de dum, I want a drum te dum, tum te dum, I want a drum.'
He walked down the lane out of his village and soon came to an old woman sitting by her cook fire coughing and spluttering in a swirl of smoke.
'What are you doing Grandmother?' he asked.
'Can't you see I'm trying to light my fire but I have no dry wood and that's why its smoking enough to choke me.' she replied between coughs.
'I have a dry stick,' he said, 'take it.'
The boy handed the old woman the stick and she lay it on her fire. The flames immediately danced around it and the smoke soon disappeared. The old woman was delighted.
'Thank you boy,' she said, 'in return for your kindness have this chapati I made yesterday.'
She took the Indian flatbread from beside the fire and gave it to the boy, who smiled and continued on his way singing.
'Tum de dum, I want a drum te dum, tum te dum, I want a drum.'
Soon he came to a woman making a pot out of clay. Beside her a baby wailed loudly.
'Why is your baby crying?' he asked.
'Because he's hungry,' said the woman, 'but I can't get him any food until I finish making this pot.'
'I've got this chapati, he can have that,' said the boy, passing it to the baby, who took it and immediately stopping crying as he shoved it into his mouth and began to chew.
'Thank you,' said the mother, 'now I can work in peace. Please boy take that pot standing by the big one. I have no use for it.'
The boy took the pot and went on his way singing,
'Tum de dum, I want a drum te dum, tum te dum, I want a drum.'
It wasn't long before he found himself beside the banks of the river watching a washerman and a woman fighting.
'Why are you fighting?' demanded the boy.
'Its all her fault,' accused the washerman, 'she broke my best washing pot for all the silks.'
'But if you hadn't left it standing around, I wouldn't have tripped over it,' countered the woman.
'I have a pot,' said the boy, 'why don't you use it?'
The boy handed the pot to the washerman who took it and thanked the boy.
'You have helped me out of a predicament boy, and I want to give you this coat as a way of saying thank you,' he said.
The washerman left and quickly returned with a large coat and hand it to the boy who took it and continued on his way singing,
'Tum de dum, I want a drum te dum, tum te dum, I want a drum.'
He was at the foot of the hills when he saw a naked man standing by a tree.
'Why haven't you got any clothes?' asked the boy.
'Because I've been robbed,' answered the man, 'and I'm freezing.'
'Then have my coat,' said the boy.
The man took the coat and put it on. It was then the boy noticed the horse tied up to the tree.
'I don't need that old horse now,' said the man, 'I've missed my appointment so I'll just walk back home. You may as well have him.'
The boy took the horse and continued on his way back towards his village. As he walked he sang,
'Tum de dum, I want a drum te dum, tum te dum, I want a drum.'
When he arrived back at the village he saw a great number of people all gathered in the centre, wearing their finest clothes. And yet there was none of the gaiety and excitement that accompanies such a celebration. Surely it was a happy event that the people had come to, but there was an aura of doom and gloom upon them.
'What is wrong,' asked the boy of one of the people.
The man threw up his hands in despair.
'This is supposed to be a wedding we are celebrating, but the man with the horse has not come. The bridegroom must attend the wedding on horseback and if this does not happen the best time to be married will be past and the bride and groom will not be blessed with good fortune.'
'Oh,' said the boy. 'I have a horse. The bridegroom can ride him.'
The man noticing the horse for the first time was filled with joy.
'Yes, I will take him straight away, and you boy, he said, looking around the gathering, 'you can have anything you want. Just ask.'
In the midst of the guests were the musicians, and in the centre of them were the drummers. the boy spotted the drum he wanted and turned to the man who had given the horse to the bridegroom.
'I want that drum,' said the boy.
The man paid the musician for his drum and handed it to the boy, who took it and made his way home singing,
'Tum de dum, I got a drum te dum, tum te dum, I got a drum.'
As he neared his house, the boy's mother cam outside to hear what the thumping sound was.
She stood and stared in amazement as her son came toward her.
'Where did you get that drum,?' she asked.
The boy smiled at his mother and replied.
'Don't you remember that you went to market this morning mother and you brought it back for me?'
The mother was puzzled, and never did work out how a stick could turn into a drum.
But you know and I know and now we can tell the world.
Source:
Ramanujan, A. K. (1991) A Drum. Folktales from India: A selection of oral tales
from 22 languages selected and edited by A K Ramanujan, Pantheon Books
New York.
The Way Photograph © Roman W. Schatz 2009
