There was a Peacock farmer and he had employed many hands for keeping the farm in good condition. He was fascinated by this bird, a bird that danced unfurling its tail feathers and made its way to the hearts of peahens. The farmer was fascinated by the different blues & greens that glimmered off the feathers of the peacocks. It was not merely the sight of the peacocks that fascinated him, but also their behaviour before the peahens that elicited his curiosity. The farmer would often wonder if he would still fan out his feathers and strut about if he were a peacock, merely because he wanted to attract a peahen!
The peahens would watch the peacocks in envy and wonder: why a peacock would be interested in a drab and ordinary tailed creature as a peahen. Yet when the peacocks danced they were all eyes and were consumed with passion for a union. Some had their passions reciprocated and some had it repulsed. But life went on as usual in the Peacock yard.
The farmer had employed farm-hands for collecting the fallen peacock feathers. Most of those had been tattered on the edges, uneven and sometimes they were like quills with merely a tuft left in the end. But the farmer was very careful to have all the feathers collected and would store them up, so that when people in the vicinity asked for peacock feathers, he never said no but handed over a feather. This left the people in the vicinity happy, as they could trust his generosity and reciprocally they did not look the gift horse in its mouth.
The farmer, after sundown would walk into the peacock yard and would watch the peacocks on full moon days. He was thrilled to see the peacocks dancing to the silvern orb and surely it was a sight to behold the feathers shimmering in the moonlight. The farmer would walk up to the brightest of the peacocks and pluck a feather and go down to the least attractive of the peacocks and pluck a feather. This was a ritual on a full moon day. He had plucked feathers and had stored them separately, for handing it over to persons who appreciated the beauty of the peacock feathers. The true sign of a person who appreciated anything is that, in exchange for what he is attracted to, he would be willing to part with what he himself values most.
The farmer used to hand over a bunch of these full-moon peacock feathers to the beauty appreciators. One of the friends of our farmer was a person by name Don Juan, who also upon receiving a bouquet of full-moon peacock feathers, saw the beauty of those feathers and wanted to be with the farmer and see him harvesting those feathers.
Don Juan spent the whole day, on a full moon day, with the farmer and saw that the feathers which were gathered by the farm hands were not of the quality or grade that he had received from the farmer.
So while at eventide, at supper with the farmer, Don Juan asked how the gifted feathers were far superior to the ones which were being gathered by the farm hands. The farmer gave a self-gratified smile and said, PAL, WHAT IS GLEANED, CANNOT COMPARE WITH WHAT IS PLUCKED!
ON his way back, Don Juan went thru the line like an obsessed person WHAT IS GLEANED, CANNOT COMPARE WITH WHAT IS PLUCKED!