The Brave Mountain Goat and Her Kid – A Folktale from Gilgit-Baltistan

 Once upon a time, in the high mountains of Gilgit-Baltistan, there lived a mother goat and her little kid. They were part of a happy herd that roamed freely across the steep cliffs and grassy meadows.

One bright morning, while the herd was grazing peacefully, a hunter from a nearby village appeared, climbing toward the goats. The mother goat noticed him from afar, and so did her little one. 

The kid, frightened, spoke to his mother in a sing-song way, as passed down through generations:

Kid: “Aali mama fatu mushak wato…”
(“Oh mother, a man is coming behind us!”)

Mother: “Palai nazer payaye payaloo hanu…”
(“My lovely child, that is just a shepherd from the village.”)

But the kid looked again and said:

Kid: “Aali mama, shaky ja tumak hanu…”
(“Oh mother, he has a gun on his shoulder!”)

Mother: “Palai nazer kotai kunali hanu…”
(“My dear, it is only his walking stick.”)

The kid grew more worried and pointed:

Kid: “Aali mama, pity ja koto hanu…”
(“Oh mother, he carries a bag on his back!”)

Mother: “Palai nazer baliyeye fatao hanu…”
(“My sweet child, that bag only holds his food.”)

But before she could say more—BANG!—a gunshot echoed through the valley. The herd scattered in panic. The bullet struck the mother goat, and she stumbled.

The little kid rushed to her side, crying:

Kid: “Aali mama, mukhy ja lail hanu…”
(“Oh mother, there is blood on your face!”)

Mother: “Palai nazer, chopirai chop hanu…”
(“My dear, it is nothing—just herbs I put on my face.”)

Though she tried to hide her pain, the kid saw she could no longer stand. He wept and asked again:

Kid: “Aali mama, ma tainy ja bojum…”
(“Oh mother, where will I go now?”)

Mother: “Palai nazer, badai ayo kachi bo…”
(“My dear, go to the elder goats of the herd.”)

But the kid shook his head in fear:

Kid: “Aali mama, wisi ma shing jo shing ty thena…”
(“Oh mother, they will toss me from horn to horn!”)

Weakly, the mother whispered:

Mother: “Palai nazer, chuny chalo kachi bo…”
(“My lovely one, go to the young kids of the herd—they will keep you safe.”)

With these last words, the mother fainted. The little kid cried bitterly, his voice echoing through the mountains: “Cha… cha… cha…” until he finally ran to join the other young goats. There he lived with them, safe and sound.

Read another kids’ story: The Tale of Kanguli and the Clever Duck