Once upon a time, long before airplanes, cars and motored Rikshaws, a shepard was tending to his herd grazing in the green pastures of the Himalayan foothills. Evening fell, and a slow warm wind blew from the slopes of the hills, moving through the trees and branches surrounding the shepards hut.

As he was preparing for the night a wondrous melody sang from between the trees and he was entranced by the sweetness of its sound. Not knowing where the melody came from he set out to discover the source of the sound, thinking that the goddesses and gods were singing to him.

As he wandered around, his sheep slowly went to sleep gently embraced by the ever more enchanting melodies coming from all around. He came closer and closer and discovered the tunes coming from a bamboo. There were little holes in the reed, pecked by birds or carved by worms, through which the wind would play its mysterious song. The shepard listened for hours, deeply moved by what to him was the singing of the goddesses and gods. Eventually, he fell asleep under the bamboo.