Once upon a time in the quiet village of Anura, nestled between lush green hills and silver streams, there lived a young boy named Ravi. He was known for being clever, curious, and a little too proud of his intelligence. Ravi believed he was better than others because he always came first in school, solved puzzles quickly, and could answer any question the elders asked.
His parents often warned him, “Pride comes before a fall, son,” but Ravi only smiled and said, “If I’m the best, why shouldn’t I be proud?”
One summer, news spread through the village about a mysterious mirror hidden deep in the old forest. They said it wasn’t an ordinary mirror—it could show people who they truly were on the inside. Some believed it was cursed; others thought it was magical. But nobody dared go near it, fearing what they might see.
When Ravi heard about it, he was immediately intrigued. “I’m not afraid,” he declared confidently. “I’ll find this mirror and prove there’s nothing to fear if your heart is clean.”
The next morning, Ravi packed some food, water, and a lantern, and set off alone into the forest. The trees whispered secrets as the wind danced through their leaves, and birds paused mid-song to watch him pass. After hours of walking, Ravi reached a clearing where sunlight poured down like golden syrup through the tree canopy.
There, standing silently, was the mirror.
It was taller than a man, framed in vines and moss, and its glass shimmered like moonlight on a river. Ravi stepped closer, heart pounding—not with fear, but excitement.
He stood before the mirror and looked into it.
At first, he saw only his reflection: a slim boy with sharp eyes and a confident grin. But slowly, the image began to change. His grin twisted into a sneer. His eyes became cold, mocking. The reflection started laughing at him—not kindly, but cruelly.
“You think you’re better than everyone else,” it said. “You mock others for their mistakes, boast about your victories, and care more about being praised than being kind.”
Ravi’s smile faded. “That’s not true!” he protested.
“Isn’t it?” the mirror whispered.
Images flashed before him—how he had laughed when his friend stumbled while reading in class, how he rolled his eyes when his sister asked for help with her homework, how he ignored his grandmother when she tried to share a story, calling it “boring.”
Ravi stepped back, shaken.
“I didn’t know I looked like that on the inside,” he murmured.
The mirror didn’t answer. It didn’t need to. Ravi sat down on a rock nearby, thinking deeply. He realized that being smart wasn’t everything. What mattered more was how you treated others, how you used your gifts—not for pride, but for good.
After a long while, he stood up, bowed respectfully to the mirror, and said, “Thank you.”
When he returned to the village, he was quieter, humbler. He apologized to those he had hurt, helped his classmates without showing off, and listened when others spoke, no matter how long their stories were.
Over time, people noticed the change in him. Ravi was still clever, still curious—but now, he was also kind and generous. He became someone others admired not just for his brains, but for his heart.
Years later, when Ravi had grown into a wise man, he became a teacher. He would often take his students on walks through the forest and pause at the edge of the clearing. “There’s a mirror in there,” he’d say softly, “but it doesn’t show your face. It shows your soul. Be sure you’re ready before you look into it.”
Some went to see it. Others didn’t. But the legend of the mirror lived on, not just as a tale of magic, but as a reminder.
Moral of the Story: True wisdom is not just knowing things, but knowing yourself. Kindness, humility, and self-awareness are greater than pride.
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