Arjun and the Hurry-Up Road
Arjun wants to reach the river before the best splashes are gone, but Ammi-Hathi keeps stopping. A warm, gently funny journey about the little wonders—and little kindnesses—we miss when we hurry.
✨ Make a Storybook FreeA MayaLili Original · ages 6-9 · free to read and print
“River, here we come!” shouted Arjun. His feet were quick, his wishes quicker. Today he wanted to make the biggest splash before lunchtime. But Ammi-Hathi, the old elephant carrying him, took six swaying steps along the village path. Then she stopped. “Already?” Arjun groaned. Ammi-Hathi lowered her trunk beside a beetle lying upside down, its legs scribbling in the air. “The river won’t run away,” she said. “It’s a river. Running is what it does!”
The whole story
“River, here we come!” shouted Arjun. His feet were quick, his wishes quicker. Today he wanted to make the biggest splash before lunchtime. But Ammi-Hathi, the old elephant carrying him, took six swaying steps along the village path. Then she stopped. “Already?” Arjun groaned. Ammi-Hathi lowered her trunk beside a beetle lying upside down, its legs scribbling in the air. “The river won’t run away,” she said. “It’s a river. Running is what it does!”
Ammi-Hathi nudged a leaf beneath the beetle. Flip! It toddled into the grass wearing a speck of dust like a hat. “Finished?” asked Arjun. “Here, yes.” Seven steps later, she stopped beneath a tree. A fallen nest lay among the roots. Above it, two little birds fluttered and peeped. “Oh, honestly,” Arjun grumbled. “Now we’re waiting for birds?” Ammi-Hathi gently gathered the empty nest in her trunk.
She tucked the nest into a sheltered fork, then threaded one loose twig through its side. “An elephant who sews,” muttered Arjun. “Wonderful. Perhaps the river needs a scarf.” Ammi-Hathi’s ears flapped softly. At the next bend stood a clay drinking pot. Drip. Drip. Water escaped through a crack. Ammi-Hathi stopped again. Arjun opened his mouth for a magnificent grumble. Then he noticed her trunk scooping soft clay from a damp patch.
She pressed the clay over the crack. Drip. Almost-drip. Nothing. A squirrel hurried down for a drink. “You weren’t just stopping,” Arjun said. “You were fixing things.” “Small things,” said Ammi-Hathi. Arjun looked back. Somewhere behind them, a beetle was walking, birds were settling, and water was staying where thirsty mouths could find it. At the river, Ammi-Hathi sprayed a sparkling fountain over herself. Arjun laughed. “You saved me a splash!”
Going home, they had barely taken four steps when Arjun called, “Stop!” Ammi-Hathi stopped. A snail was crossing the path, carrying a yellow petal on its shell. “Nothing broken?” she asked. “Nothing broken,” Arjun agreed. “But look at its umbrella.” They waited while the snail sailed slowly into the grass. Then Arjun patted Ammi-Hathi’s warm, wrinkled head. “Ready?” she asked. “In a minute,” said Arjun. “There’s another one.”