Tales from India

by Bali Rai

  But there remained one more problem for Harisarman. The prime minister of the kingdom was called Devaj. He grew jealous of Harisarman’s new wealth and status. He found Harisarman’s old village, and went there to find out about his past. As he spoke to Harisarman’s old neighbours, Devaj’s suspicions grew. On his return to the palace, he rushed to find the rajah.

  ‘Your Majesty,’ Devaj said. ‘I am certain that Harisarman is a fraud. I went to his village, and none of his old neighbours believe his tale. They say he was penniless and dim-witted when he left for the city. They have never heard of his magic.’

  ‘Yet he proved himself,’ the rajah replied. ‘Where you and your fellow advisors failed, this man succeeded. I will not allow you to dishonour him!’

  ‘But, sir,’ Devaj pleaded. ‘He has no education and can barely read. How, then, could he study books of magic and astrology?’

  Gradually, Devaj fed the rajah’s suspicions, day after day, until shortly the rajah’s patience snapped.

  ‘Very well then!’ the rajah bellowed. ‘Send for Harisarman. I will set him a new challenge!’

  When Harisarman arrived, baffled and nervous, he stood before the entire court.

  ‘Your Majesty?’ he enquired.

  ‘My prime minister, Devaj, has called you a fraud,’ the rajah said. ‘So to help you prove your innocence, I have devised a new test.’

  Harisarman felt his palms grow sticky and his heart start to flutter. Was he so close to being unmasked?

  ‘But this gift is not like a well,’ he replied. ‘You can’t just draw water when you like. My gifts are precious.’

  ‘Pah!’ cried Devaj, to murmurs from the court. ‘He makes excuses because he’s a liar!’

  ‘I’m sorry, dear sage,’ the rajah said. ‘Your honour is being questioned. And because I have supported you, my honour is at stake too.’

  ‘But I …’ began Harisarman.

  ‘You have no choice,’ the rajah told him. ‘You must complete the challenge or face the consequences.’

  The rajah’s groom came forward with a covered jug.

  ‘I have hidden something inside this pitcher,’ explained the rajah. ‘To prove your gifts, you must tell me what it is.’

  Frightened and distressed, Harisarman fell to his knees. What now for his wife and his two fine children? He recalled his childhood, and how people had taunted him. The shame his own father had felt, because Harisarman had been a whingeing and worthless failure. Had they all been right when they disrespected him? He remembered the nickname his father had given him, and he cried out.

  ‘Oh, brainless Frog!’ he wailed. ‘How wretched your life has been, you who could never run properly!’

  The rajah was astonished. He rose and kicked the pitcher over.

  ‘There!’ he cried.

  As applause erupted all around court, Harisarman opened an eye. And there, amongst the broken clay fragments sat a frog. It croaked just once before hopping away.

  ‘Oh, great wise man!’ said the rajah. ‘Your honour is saved! No one must ever doubt you again. Anyone who challenges you will pay! You are truly gifted.’

  As Harisarman basked in yet another wonderful twist of fate, the rajah sacked his prime minister.

  ‘Harisarman,’ the rajah declared. ‘You shall be my first minister. And all land, property and money Devaj had is now yours!’

  So Harisarman the hapless and dim-witted fool, prospered for the rest of his life. And each night, as he relaxed in his own palace, having eaten the finest food, he thanked the stars for his most curious good fortune.

  The Farmer and the Giant

  One afternoon, a farmer called Lal Ram was digging a hole. Suddenly his spade hit something solid with a loud thud. Peering down, Lal spotted an earthen jar. He knelt to pull the jar from the ground, and saw that it had been sealed. Curious, he gave it a shake, but heard nothing inside. He set it aside and continued his task.

  Later, as he was lying in bed, he began to wonder about the jar again. Perhaps it held something magical, he thought. Or, better still, something very precious? Lal got dressed and went out to his yard, where the jar sat by a well. Lal picked it up and studied it carefully. It was made of brown clay and someone had taken great care to seal the opening. Taking a knife, he began to prise it open.

  Suddenly, a cloud of white smoke escaped the jar and rose upwards into the humid air. The smoke swirled in a cyclone, faster and faster until Lal saw a flash of green light. He fell backwards, landing on his behind, and gasped. Standing before him was a giant …

  ‘MASTER!!!!’ the giant bellowed. ‘You have released me and now I am your slave!’

  Lal scrambled away in shock. The giant wore an evil grin and clothes made of fine silk. On his head was a scarlet turban, and his ears were heavy with golden rings.

  ‘Don’t hurt me, oh mighty demon!’ Lal cried.

  ‘I WILL NOT HURT YOU!’ the giant replied. ‘I MUST SERVE YOU!’

  Lal was confused. ‘You will serve me?’ he asked.

  ‘YES!’ the giant replied. ‘ASK ME TO COMPLETE ANY TASK AND I WILL OBEY!’

  Lal stood and dusted off his clothes. He edged closer to the giant, amazed and more curious than ever.

  ‘What if I ask you to lower your voice?’ he asked.

  ‘Done,’ said the giant. ‘What else?’

  ‘Draw me a bucket of water from the well,’ said Lal.

  Within seconds, the giant did as asked.

  ‘Can it be true?’ asked Lal. ‘Have I really been so fortunate?’

  The giant began to laugh. ‘You have,’ he eventually said. ‘But you must agree to one condition.’

  Lal nodded. ‘What is it?’ he asked.

  ‘You must keep me busy,’ the giant explained. ‘When I am busy, I do not get hungry.’

  ‘What happens if you get hungry?’ asked Lal.

  ‘Then I eat people,’ the giant told him.

  Lal shuddered at the thought but did not run. He had a large farm and there were many tasks the giant might do.

  ‘I understand,’ said Lal. ‘Now, let me get some sleep and we’ll continue in the morning.’

  But the giant shook his head.

  ‘No,’ he replied. ‘You must keep me busy at all times …’

  ‘But it’s dark,’ said Lal, ‘and I’m tired.’

  ‘YOU MUST KEEP ME BUSY!’ the giant hollered.

  Lal sighed and asked the giant to tidy his yard. The giant lunged to the left in a flash, and then to the right. All around Lal, his yard grew tidier and within minutes the giant had finished.

  ‘Done,’ said the giant. ‘Another task …’

  Lal groaned. ‘Fetch me ten more buckets of water,’ he said.

  Again, the giant completed the job in minutes. Lal shook his head and began to wonder if his fortune was really so great.

  ‘I must sleep,’ he moaned. ‘Can’t you take a rest?’

  ‘No, master,’ the giant replied. ‘If I rest, I grow hungry. And then I must eat you …’

  Lal began to think up more tasks for the giant, but each one was completed far too quickly. Soon Lal grew so exhausted that his eyelids drooped and his legs felt like jelly. Yet still the giant demanded more tasks.

  ‘My land is full of rocks and stones,’ Lal said through a yawn. ‘Sift every grain of soil and remove them.’

  The giant nodded and off he went. Lal was confident that the latest task would take much longer. He dropped to the ground and fell fast asleep. However, the giant returned just twenty minutes later and woke Lal up.

  ‘It is done!’ he proclaimed. ‘Give me another job!’

  Lal shook his head in sorrow. Rather than being a gift, the giant had become a curse. Soon he would run out of jobs to do and devour him. Lal sat down and wondered how to save himself. After a few minutes, he had an idea.

  ‘I could do with a new house,’ he told the giant. ‘But it must be made of newly-cut timber from the rarest of trees.’

  ‘Of course!’ said the
giant. ‘Anything else?’

  Lal began to imagine every room, and described them slowly. The giant listened carefully to every detail.

  ‘This may take a while,’ he said when Lal was finished.

  ‘No problem,’ the farmer replied in relief. ‘Take your time.’

  But barely an hour later, Lal’s magnificent new house was ready, and the giant was bored again. Growing desperate, Lal suddenly thought of something else. Something far cleverer …

  ‘So,’ he said to the giant. ‘You must do anything I ask?’

  ‘Yes,’ said the giant.

  ‘And I must make sure you’re always busy?’

  ‘Yes, master.’

  ‘Or you will eat me?’

  ‘I’m afraid so, master,’ the giant replied.

  Lal nodded and pointed to the field behind his brand-new house. ‘I want you to create a stone pillar, at least a hundred feet tall,’ he said.

  ‘No problem,’ the giant replied.

  ‘Wait!’ Lal ordered. ‘There’s more. Once the pillar is ready, I want you to climb it.’

  ‘As you wish.’

  ‘Then,’ Lal added, ‘when you reach the top, you must climb down again …’

  The giant nodded. It sounded very straightforward, and he was certain to complete the task quickly.

  ‘What happens when I climb down?’ he asked his master.

  Lal smiled. ‘Once you get down, you will climb up again. You will continue to climb up and down until I tell you to stop.’

  The giant agreed.

  ‘It’s a very odd request,’ he said. ‘But I must do as you ask …’

  The giant whooshed off to a stone quarry and very quickly the pillar was hewn from solid rock. He picked it up and flew back to Lal’s farm. There he secured the pillar in the field, and began to climb up and down at great speed. Lal stood at the bottom and applauded the giant.

  ‘Well done!’ he shouted. ‘Now just keep going!’

  As the giant climbed up and down, up and down, Lal began to chuckle.

  ‘When do I stop, master?’ the giant eventually asked.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry,’ replied Lal. ‘Just keep going and I’ll let you know when …’

  Lal chuckled and went off to his magnificent new house to get some sleep.

  The Farmer and the Moneylender

  When Kishan’s father passed away, he was left with nothing but a plot of land. He had no cows, no water buffalo, and no ploughs or spades. Kishan was clever and strong, but had no way of growing any crops. His only choice was to sell his ancestral land and become a beggar.

  One day, a devious moneylender arrived in Kishan’s village. The man, Nilesh, told people he would give them loans. Desperate, Kishan went to see him, and explained his clever ideas. Nilesh was taken by the boy’s plans and gave him the money he needed immediately.

  Kishan bought ploughs and two water buffalo, seed and much more, and soon began to reap the rewards. After his first golden harvest, the wily Nilesh returned and heard of Kishan’s good fortune.

  ‘Your harvest has been generous,’ Nilesh said. ‘I will have to have a bigger repayment.’

  Kishan, eager to start on his next crop, agreed without complaint and paid Nilesh more money. But the second crop was much harder work, and the weather played tricks on Kishan. When he needed sunshine, it would rain, and when he needed water, the sun would shine for weeks on end. When a long drought struck harvest time, Kishan’s crops were almost ruined.

  Nilesh returned soon afterwards, ready for his next payment. When he asked Kishan for his money, the boy looked glum.

  ‘My harvest has failed, so may I pay less?’ he asked.

  ‘No, no,’ said Nilesh. ‘You will pay exactly what you owe …’

  ‘But last harvest, you took more,’ Kishan reminded him.

  ‘Times change,’ said Nilesh. ‘Now, where is my money?’

  The dry weather continued and each harvest was worse than the last. However, Nilesh returned for his money regardless. Soon Kishan was penniless and desperate once more, but Nilesh did not care. Eventually Kishan lost everything but a few rupees and the clothes on his back. Sad and angry, and determined to find a way to rebuild his fortune, Kishan went to see the moneylender again.

  ‘You have taken everything I own,’ he said. ‘But you can’t squeeze blood from a stone, sir. I have nothing left to give you.’

  Nilesh, who had grown rich from the misery of other people, grinned. ‘I only took what you owed,’ he replied. ‘No more, no less. In life, some people win and others lose …’

  ‘Well, now that I’ve lost,’ Kishan replied, ‘perhaps you would tell me the secret to your riches?’

  The moneylender laughed. ‘Perhaps the mighty god, Ram, gave it to me?’ he replied, his tone sarcastic and mocking. ‘Maybe you should ask him!’

  Even though Kishan knew the moneylender was teasing him, he had nothing to lose, and so he decided to find Ram. Using his last rupees to buy food for his journey, he packed his few belongings and set off.

  Kishan walked all day long, until he met a Brahmin on the road.

  ‘Dear priest,’ said Kishan. ‘If you could point the way to Lord Ram, I would be forever in your debt.’

  He offered the Brahmin a rice cake. The priest eagerly accepted and wolfed it down. Then, without a word, he walked away, leaving Kishan confused and surprised.

  Further on, he came across a wise man sitting by a spring.

  ‘Oh, wise man,’ said Kishan. ‘You must have great knowledge. Please tell me where I can find Lord Ram.’

  The wise man did not reply until Kishan gave him a mango.

  ‘Why, how kind of you,’ the wise man replied. ‘This is delicious.’

  ‘And what of Lord Ram?’ Kishan asked again, making the man grin.

  ‘You can’t just find Lord Ram,’ he explained in amusement. ‘Why would I have travelled for many years, if Lord Ram was easy to find? Are you a fool?’

  ‘No,’ said Kishan. ‘I am just a simple farmer seeking answers.’

  ‘There is another beggar just like you,’ said the wise man. ‘He’s sitting under a banyan tree, further down this road. Like you, he’s awaiting a miracle – you’d make good friends.’

  The wise man bellowed in laughter and dismissed Kishan with a wave of his hand.

  ‘Idiot!’ he called out as Kishan walked on.

  After another hour, Kishan found the banyan tree. Taking shelter beneath it was the beggar. He wore a ragged cloak and was shoeless and dirty. Kishan sat beside him and unwrapped the last of his food.

  ‘My belly aches with hunger,’ the beggar said. ‘Perhaps I could have some of your food?’

  Though Kishan’s own belly grumbled, he realized that the beggar was far hungrier.

  ‘I am young and strong,’ said Kishan. ‘Here, sir, take it all.’

  He offered the coconut dosa pancake – the last of his provisions.

  ‘But you have nothing left,’ said the beggar. ‘Why give it to me?’

  Kishan gave a weary smile.

  ‘Because you asked,’ he replied. ‘And your need is greater than mine.’

  The beggar nodded and took a bite. ‘How delicious,’ he said. ‘Where are you going, friend?’

  Kishan sat back and told his tale, and the beggar listened keenly.

  ‘Do you know where I may find Lord Ram?’ he finally asked.

  ‘Oh yes!’ said the beggar with a grin wider than the River Ganges. ‘I know exactly where Lord Ram is.’

  ‘Where, oh where?’ Kishan cried, standing up to look around him.

  ‘Why, he sits under a banyan tree, eating coconut dosa!’

  Suddenly the beggar’s rags were transformed. There, before Kishan, sat Lord Ram in fine silken robes. He wore a golden crown, and held his golden bow. A garland of crimson roses hung round his neck.

  ‘Oh, mighty Lord Ram!’ said Kishan, falling to his knees.

  ‘Stand up, boy,’ Ram replied, ‘and tell me what you want of
me.’

  ‘Only your blessing,’ said Kishan. ‘I wish to rebuild my life.’

  Ram reached into his garments and produced a conch shell.

  ‘Take this conch,’ said Ram. ‘Blow into it and you will have whatever you wish. But you and only you will be able to use it.’

  ‘Oh, mighty Ram!’ said Kishan. ‘Surely I should pass some test before you bless me with this gift?’

  When Ram smiled, the birds broke into song and previously wilted flowers sprang into bloom. He held up the pancake and took another bite.

  ‘I was hungry and you gave me your last crumbs,’ Ram reminded him. ‘Now, your kindness is repaid. But be wary of tricksters, boy. The greed of some people knows no end …’

  And with that, Lord Ram melted away into a sapphire mist and was gone.

  Kishan returned to his village, and set about rebuilding his fortune. He bought back his father’s land and planted new crops, but always stayed honest, never taking advantage of the conch’s power. Each evening, he slept peacefully, knowing that he had been very fortunate. He had more than enough and his life was wonderful.

  However, Nilesh the moneylender soon heard of Kishan’s return. When he saw how the boy had prospered, he grew envious. And when he offered Kishan more loans, the boy refused. Shocked, furious and full of jealousy, Nilesh vowed he would bankrupt Kishan a second time.

  He must have some help, thought Nilesh. How else did he grow so rich so quickly?

  Nilesh decided to spy on Kishan and discover his secrets. He watched from behind a large hibiscus bush, for days on end. Then, one evening, he saw Kishan blow into the conch. And at once a brand-new plough appeared.

  What a treasure that is! the astounded moneylender thought. I must make it mine!

  The next day, as Kishan toiled in his fields, Nilesh stole into his house and took the magical conch. He hurried home and wondered what he should ask for. As he was unmarried and lonely, he decided to ask for a beautiful wife. He held the conch to his lips and blew into it. But nothing happened. No matter how hard he tried, the conch would not make a sound. After many failed attempts, he gave up, throwing the shell to the floor in disgust.