At the edge of a village lay a clear, glassy pond — and from the pond, a narrow canal ran all the way to the river. In it lived three friends: Koi, Ilish and Potka the puffer. Every morning they played hide-and-seek — splish! splash! Who could touch the water-lily leaf first?
One evening two fishermen were walking home along the bank. One leaned over the water — “Brother, look, look — what fat fish!” The other nodded. “Tomorrow at dawn we'll come with the net. We won't leave a single one.” Under the lily leaves, the three friends heard every word.
That night Koi said, “You heard them! Come — let's swim down the canal to the river tonight, before the net comes.” Ilish flicked his tail. “What's the hurry, brother? If trouble comes, my wits will save me.” And Potka? He just laughed and laughed. “Pff! Leave the pond I was born in? Whatever will be, will be!”
Deep in the night, the moon's reflection trembled on the sleeping pond. Koi came alone to the mouth of the canal. He looked back once — this pond was where he was born, where he'd always played. His heart grew heavy. Still, slowly… slowly… he swam on toward the river.
At first light — SPLASH! The net fell across the pond. Water churned, mud swirled! “Potka, swim!” cried Ilish, darting away. Potka puffed himself round with fright — but the net was everywhere! The ropes drew closer… and closer… and both were caught. What now?
The moment the fisherman hauled up the net, Ilish went perfectly still — not a twitch, not a blink, stiff as wood! The fisherman wrinkled his nose. “Ugh! This one's dead — rotten!” — and tossed him onto the grass, right at the water's edge. One… two… three! Ilish flipped — SPLASH! — straight back into the pond!
But Potka? He stayed puffed up inside the net — sure that somehow, something would simply work itself out. Nothing did. Into the fisherman's basket went Potka, and the basket went up on a shoulder. With his two little eyes he took one last look at his beloved pond. Potka never came back.
When the monsoon came, Ilish too swam down the canal to the river — the pond didn't feel like home anymore. And there he found Koi! The two friends played again, but every evening they'd both go quiet — a game of three was now a game of two. Softly, Koi would say, “The one who thinks ahead of trouble, brother — that's the one who's saved.”