There was once upon a time a most beautiful and colourful parrot who lived in the branches of a fig tree. The parrot, whose feathers showed every colour of the rainbow, was very happy in the fig tree. Its large leaves sheltered him from the burning rays of the sun, and its tender fruit fed him when he was hungry. He loved to climb among the branches of the tree, and listen to the murmur of the breeze gently stirring its leaves.

One evening, as darkness was falling and the parrot was preparing to sleep, he said, “Dear fig tree, I love you with all my heart. I will never leave you.”

And by the direction of fate these words came to the ear of Shakra, the powerful lord of the Devas. “Is it true?” he said to himself. “Is this parrot really so faithful? I will test him and see.”

The next day, the leaves of the fig tree began to wither, and the fruit to fall away. One after another, they shrivelled and fell, leaving the branches bare.

The parrot was dismayed. “Dear fig tree,” he said, “what is happening to you? How can I help you?” But the fig tree had no voice to answer.

Soon the home of the parrot was no more than empty branches, from which the dry bark was peeling. Other birds, flying by, saw the parrot sitting in the fig tree, and called to him. “Foolish parrot, why are you staying there? Fly away and find some better home.”

“No,” replied the parrot, “does one leave a friend who is facing hardship? I am faithful, and I will not leave my friend the fig tree.”

Time passed, and the parrot suffered from the heat, and also from hunger, for there were no more figs to eat. Finally, the day came when he felt his end was near. Wedging himself into a cleft between a branch and the trunk, he whispered, “Dear fig tree, I promised I would not leave you and I have been true. When I am no more, my body will fall and feed your roots.”

Then Shakra, who had been watching all along, sent a gentle wind and a rain of tender golden light, and almost instantly the fig tree was restored to its former glory. Near the beak of the parrot lay a large, ripe fig.

“Little bird,” said Shakra, “your faithful heart has brought your friend to life. All the gods rejoice in the light of such sincerity.”

With a smile like the rising of the sun, Shakra then ascended into the blue heavens. And the little parrot felt supreme contentment to see his friend the fig tree once again alive.