My dear, once upon a time there was a kind old woman, alone and without a child, who wanted one very much. One day she put bread dough in the oven while a pot of chickpeas bubbled on the fire. Suddenly a tiny chickpea jumped out of the pot, spun and spun, and turned into a little girl.
The old woman hugged and kissed her and fussed over her. She sewed her a pretty dress, braided her hair, and named her Nokhodi, because she was only as tall as a chickpea. Little Nokhodi was quick, mischievous and happy.
One morning the village children went to the fields to gather ears of wheat, and Nokhodi ran after them. The sun was warm and the sky was blue, blue. The children sang and clapped while Nokhodi wriggled through the grass, laughing.
They gathered skirtfuls of wheat and played until the sun went behind the mountain. "Children, let's go home," said one. "Our mothers will worry," said another. They set off for the village, holding hands and running.
But oh dear. On the road a div appeared, big as a mountain, with yellow teeth sticking out of his mouth. The children clung to each other. "Ha ha ha, my supper has arrived," he roared. Some of the children began to cry.
But Nokhodi was not one bit afraid. She came forward, put her hands on her hips, lifted her head and sang: "I'm Nokhodi, little chickpea, I'm not scared of a big div, not at all."
The div lunged, but Nokhodi was so tiny that he lost her. He clawed at the air and kept hitting the ground while she giggled and ran between his feet. He got confused, then cross, then tired. The children quietly breathed again.
Then Nokhodi had a sly idea. "Hey, big div, we're thirsty. Take this sieve and bring us water from Crystal Mountain." She stamped her foot and sang again: "I'm Nokhodi, little chickpea, I'm not scared of a big div, not at all."
The stubborn div grabbed the sieve and ran all the way to far-off Crystal Mountain. He filled it to the brim, but the water dripped out through the holes. Empty again, and empty again. "Where did my water go?"
He poured and poured until morning, wet and tired, and forgot all about the children. Nokhodi beckoned: "Come quietly." On tiptoe the children slipped away across the fields.
They ran until they reached the village, where the mothers waited at their doors, worried. They flew to Nokhodi, hugged and kissed her, and she laughed and sang once more: "I'm Nokhodi, little chickpea, I'm not scared of a big div, not at all."
Night came and the moon rose. Nokhodi sat by the warm oven and the old woman brought her a piece of fresh bread. She took a bite and laughed. Then she yawned, her eyes grew heavy, and she fell asleep in the old woman's warm hand.