Long ago, when the world was still young, there was no fire in the heavens and no light upon the earth. The sky was cold and pale, and the land lay in darkness. The rivers flowed quietly, unable to glimmer, and the mountains stood like silent shadows.

In those distant days, the Lha, the Sky Beings, looked down from their bright realm and said to one another,

“Without fire there is no warmth. We have light but we need fire too. Someone must go to the human world and bring back the flame.”

They turned to the proud rooster, whose red crest glowed faintly even in the dim light.

“Rooster,” they said, “you have strong wings and a brave heart. Fly down to the world below. Ask the humans for fire and bring it back to us. But remember, do not crow while you are there. Until you return with the fire, your voice must remain silent.”

The rooster bowed his head and promised,

“I will obey, O Lha. I shall not crow until I bring you the fire.”

He spread his wings and flew down through the clouds, past the mountains, until his feet touched the dark soil of the earth. There he found the humans huddled near their hearths, guarding the little flames that kept them alive.

“Kind people,” the rooster said, “the Sky Beings have sent me. Lend me your fire so that I may carry its warmth to the heavens.”

The humans looked at one another. They had long heard tales of the celestial rooster who lived above the clouds.

“We will give you fire,” they said, “but first you must make us a promise.”

“What promise?” asked the rooster.

“Crow for us, just once. We have heard that when the heavenly rooster crows upon the earth, light will come. If you crow, our world will awaken from darkness.”

The rooster’s heart trembled.

“I cannot,” he said softly. “The Lha have forbidden me to crow until I return. If I disobey, I may never fly back to the heavens.”

But the humans pleaded,

“Then choose, Rooster of the Sky. Either return without fire, or crow and bring light to our world.”

The rooster stood in silence, torn between duty and compassion. At last, he whispered,

“If fire must rise and light must live, then so be it.”

He lifted his head, spread his wings, and let out a cry that pierced the dark.

The first crow echoed across the hills, and half the night melted away.
The second crow swept through the forests, and the wind began to stir.
The third crow rang out, and the first golden edge of dawn broke in the east.
The fourth crow burst forth, and the whole world blazed with light.

The humans cheered and danced. Their faces glowed with warmth for the first time. The rooster, his task complete, had given the heavens fire and day to the earth.

From that moment, as the Tamang elders say, night and day began to follow one another. And even now, the rooster still crows at dawn, calling back the memory of that first light when his voice broke the darkness.