The Tale of Two Sisters of Lazoon
A story of kindness, cruelty, and the destiny that shapes two sisters’ lives.
By Ubaid Published 4 months ago • 3 min read
The Tale of Two Sisters of Lazoon- BY:Ubaid
Once upon a time, in a lush green valley filled with sparkling lakes, there lived a humble fisherman with his two daughters, Mangita and Larina. Their small village was called Lazoon, a place where nature’s beauty thrived and the waters provided both food and livelihood.
Mangita, the elder daughter, was known for her kind and gentle heart. She was compassionate toward everyone, always speaking with respect, and carrying out the household chores with love. Ever since their mother’s passing, she had taken the responsibility of the home upon her shoulders—cooking meals, maintaining order, and ensuring her father had warm food ready when he returned, tired, from the lake.
Larina, the younger sister, was the complete opposite. Though she was beautiful, she lacked kindness. She cared little for others, often speaking rudely to her elder sister. While Mangita worked tirelessly, Larina wasted her days at the lake, staring at her reflection in the water, brushing her long hair, and admiring her beauty. She would catch butterflies and trap them in bottles, laughing at their struggles, never considering the pain she caused.
One day, tragedy struck. Their father fell gravely ill and passed away. Mangita wept endlessly, mourning the man who had worked tirelessly to provide for them. Yet, after days of grief, she realized the heavy truth: the survival of their household now depended entirely on her. With courage, she approached Larina at the lake.
“Sister, I must speak with you,” Mangita said softly.
“Can’t you see I’m busy?” Larina snapped, still gazing at her reflection.
“It won’t take long. With Father gone, there’s no one to provide for us. I’ve decided to take up his work. I will catch fish and sell them in the market, though I don’t know if it will be enough. Still, I will try with all my strength.”
Larina rolled her eyes. “Do as you wish. Just leave me alone. My destiny is not to be a fisherwoman. One day a prince will come for me. I will be queen, and I will leave this miserable little town far behind.”
Mangita sighed deeply, but with love still in her heart, she whispered, “May happiness come to you, sister. That is all I wish.”
From that day on, Mangita carried her father’s burden. She rose early to fish, sold her catch in the market, and struggled to keep food on the table. But the earnings were never enough. One evening, returning home with only a few coins, she pleaded with Larina:
“Please, help me. If we both sell fish, perhaps we can survive.”
Larina laughed mockingly. “Do you think a future queen should dirty her hands with such labor? Never!” And with that, she stormed out toward the lake.
At the door, she found an old woman, frail and trembling.
“Dear child,” the woman begged, “I am hungry and thirsty. I have walked miles. Please, give me something to eat.”
Larina’s eyes hardened. “Do I look like your servant? Go away!” She shoved the woman aside and walked away.
Moments later, Mangita stepped outside and saw the old woman lying on the ground. Alarmed, she rushed to her aid, lifting her gently.
“Forgive my sister,” Mangita said softly. “She can be harsh at times. Come inside, please.”
She shared the little food she had—the portion meant for her own dinner. The old woman ate gratefully and blessed Mangita: “You are a kind soul. May goodness follow you.” Then she disappeared into the night.
That evening, Mangita went to bed hungry, giving the next morning’s bread to her sister. But exhaustion and endless toil soon took their toll. Within weeks, Mangita fell gravely ill.
As she lay weak, she pleaded once more: “Sister, there is no money left. Please, go sell the fish for just one day. Help us survive.”
But Larina’s heart was unmoved. “I told you, I will not. Do not ask again.” And she left for the lake.
At the door, she once again encountered the same old woman.
“I heard Mangita is ill,” the woman said. “I have brought magical seeds. If she eats them, she will recover by morning. Let me stay with her and give her a seed each hour. You will see, she will be well again.”
Larina clenched her jaw. Deep inside, she did not want her sister to recover. For if Mangita remained weak, Larina would never be overshadowed by her kindness.
With a false smile, she said, “Oh, dear mother, why trouble yourself? Give me the seeds. I will take care of my sister myself.”
The old woman hesitated but finally handed her the seeds. Larina accepted them with a sly grin, hiding her true intentions.
What she planned to do with the seeds… no one yet knew.
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My dear friend Nancy had dreams of being a writer after commanding a classroom forever. She figured it would finally give her a creative outlet instead of taking up knitting afghans or cultivating orchids. She hated grading papers and wanted to expand her opportunities. As we met at Panera, she shared that she wanted people to read her thoughts and allow her personal legacy to live on. “Grand idea,” I said. “I want the same.”
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