King Bheema hesitated for a moment and then nodded. “Of course,” he said. “We would be delighted.”
Veera looked at Suku and mouthed, “This is not good.” But what could he do? His father had to respect the wishes of his uncle. That was an unwritten rule for all nephews.
Raja Apoorva wasted no time. He addressed the poor man in front of him. “Dear man, Omkar,” he said. “What would you do to earn money for your family?”
“Anything, Your Highness,” said Omkar.
“How about an unpleasant job?”
“Nothing is more unpleasant for me than to listen to my baby crying with hunger, Your Majesty,” said Omkar. “I’m prepared to do anything.”
“How do I know you’re not just saying that?” asked Raja Apoorva. “I wish to test your words.”
“I’ll do anything, Your Majesty,” repeated Omkar.
The man’s suffering moved Veera and Suku. Families should not go hungry. Many times people had come asking for money and King Bheema would send them to the stables or the kitchens or the garden to get work. Perhaps Raja Apoorva would find the man a job that would provide him with a livelihood.
Raja Apoorva said, “This is what I want you to do. I want you to stand by the royal lake all night wearing nothing except your dhoti.”
The courtiers gasped. Summer was retreating. The night would be chilly and windy.
But Omkar was desperate. He agreed to the king’s test.
“If you succeed,” said Raja Apoorva, “I will take you with me to my kingdom and give you a job in the palace.”
The court was dismissed in silence. Many people were worried for Omkar. Prince Veera and Suku knocked on King Bheema’s door.
“Father, this is unfair,” said Veera. “You’ve got to do something about it.”
“We cannot interfere,” said King Bheema. “Omkar agreed, didn’t he? If he had hesitated, I would have stepped in somehow.”
“Your father is right,” said Suku. “You’ve got to let Omkar prove to the world that he would do anything for his family.”
“But if he dies?”
“The guards won’t let that happen,” said the king. “The royal doctor will be on hand.”
Prince Veera wasn’t convinced. But his father and Suku were right. They had to let Omkar try and win his fight with Granduncle, just as his father had let them count the crows.
That night, the boys watched from the palace windows.
Omkar arrived with no shirt and no coat. He was wearing just a tattered dhoti. He stood on the banks of the lake, watched by two guards.
The moon climbed the sky and the oil lamps in the corridors and rooms were blown out. The palace slowly went to sleep.
Omkar was shivering in the cold, but he was determined to survive the night. He tried to distract himself by counting the columns in the palace corridors. Then he counted the fireflies.
The poor man was so cold that he was shaking. He tried to keep warm by rubbing his hands. He moved up and down the garden path surrounding the lake. Nothing helped.
Omkar hugged himself tight and looked at the sky. Even the moon was reluctant to watch him suffer. It hid behind the clouds. It was dark except for the light that flickered on the palace tower.
Omkar fixed his sight on the lamp. He imagined the flickering flame to be a raging fire. He imagined sitting before the fire and warming himself. He imagined roasting corn for his children.
As the guards rubbed their hands in the cold, Omkar was smiling. He was lost in his own imagination. He forgot about the cold wind and the mist that fell around him. All he could think about was the flame on top of the tower.
Slowly the moon moved away and let the sun return. At the crack of dawn, the guards took Omkar to the kitchen and gave him a warm drink and a blanket.
Soon it was time to go to the court. Omkar was confident that the king would give him a job and his family’s suffering would be over. He was smiling even though he was still shaking from the cold.The courtiers had gathered early. Prince Veera and Suku had taken their places, too. Everyone eagerly awaited the kings’ arrival.
Raja Apoorva was surprised to see Omkar in the court.
“So you didn’t run away?” asked the king.
“Why would I, Maharaj?” asked Omkar. “I need the job.”
“Did he have help to keep warm?” the king asked a guard.
“No, sir,” said the guard. “He stood there all night in his dhoti with a smile on his face.”
“Why were you smiling?” asked Raja Apoorva.
“I was gazing at the tower lamp, Your Majesty,” said Omkar. “And imagined it to be a raging fire. In my imagination I was happily roasting corn in the fire for my children.”
“Aha!” said Raja Apoorva. “You’ve had help. You were warmed by the tower lamp. You didn’t complete this challenge as per the conditions I set out.”
Omkar was stunned. How could the tower lamp warm him? It was so far away.
King Bheema bristled in anger. He had assigned this case to his uncle and couldn’t interfere without insulting him. But it troubled him that one of his own citizens was not getting a fair hearing in his court.
Prince Veera and Suku, too, were outraged. How could Raja Apoorva treat the man with such callousness? Whoever heard of a lamp so far up in the tower warming a man by the lake? They had to do something. King Bheema shook his head slightly, warning them not to challenge Raja Apoorva.
Omkar was sent away from the court with nothing. King Bheema retired to his chambers, sullen and angry. As soon as the court was adjourned, the boys left the palace, too.
“What about Omkar?” asked Suku.
“I’m sure Father will help him after Granduncle has gone,” said Veera.
“But we have to show Raja Apoorva that this is not fair,” said Suku. “We cannot let him leave without a lesson.”
“I agree,” said Prince Veera. “I’ve been thinking the same thing.”
That afternoon King Bheema didn’t want to see Raja Apoorva. He wanted to eat with the boys. But the guards told him that Prince Veera was having lunch at Suku’s house.
Raja Apoorva, too, was on his own. He gloated to his guards that he had saved himself a bundle of money because Omkar was a cheat. He was proud of his judgment, and proud that Prince Veera had learned a lesson in running a court.
It was the final evening of Raja Apoorva’s visit. The kings met in the garden for a stroll.
“Where is Veera?” asked King Bheema.
“He hasn’t returned from Suku’s house, Your Majesty,” said the guard.
“Why don’t we go for a ride, Uncle?” asked King Bheema. “Veera must say good-bye to you.”
“Why don’t you summon him here?” asked Raja Apoorva.
“I thought you might like to see the city at night.”
Raja Apoorva agreed, and the kings set off toward Suku’s house.
As they dismounted their horses, Suku’s father came out to greet them. “Welcome, Your Highnesses,” he said. “I welcome both of you.”
“Where is Veera?” asked King Bheema. “I want to see him right now.”
“He’s been cooking lunch all day, Your Majesty,” said Suku’s father.
“Cooking all day?” asked Raja Apoorva. “It’s almost nightfall now. What kind of food is so special that he must cook all day?”
“He’s just cooking rice, Your Majesty,” said Suku’s father. “Do come in.”
The kings were curious. Why was Prince Veera cooking in Suku’s house when a big pot of rice was always ready in the royal kitchens?
When they entered the kitchen, Raja Apoorva burst out laughing.
A stove was lit on the floor. A pot hung from the ceiling, far away from the heat.
“What are you doing, dear prince?” asked Raja Apoorva. “Surely you know how to cook rice? If not, do come to my palace and I will teach you personally.”
“But I’ve learned this from you,” said Prince Veera.
Suku gigg
led.
Raja Apoorva wasn’t smiling, however. “What do you mean?” he demanded.
“You’re a great monarch, Your Majesty,” said Prince Veera. “For you even a tower lamp could warm a man by the lakeside. But I’m just a prince. I thought the blazing fire in the stove would heat the pot hanging just above it. That’s not too much to ask, is it?”
King Bheema chuckled.
Raja Apoorva understood the prince’s subtle message. The lamp in the tower was indeed too far away to warm the man by the lakeside. Omkar wasn’t trying to cheat him. The poor man was desperate, and he had been turned away.
“You’re very wise,” said Raja Apoorva. “I’m humbled by the lesson you’ve taught me. I was wrong to dismiss Omkar for imagining the warmth from the lamp.”
King Bheema hugged Prince Veera and Suku. “I’m proud of you both,” he said. “I was so troubled by the judgment all day. You’ve indeed brought me joy.”
That night Raja Apoorva summoned Omkar and his family. They were all fed and clothed and asked to accompany the king back to his kingdom. Omkar was given a job at Raja Apoorva’s palace. Omkar and his family would never go hungry again.
“I bid you farewell, King Bheema,” said Raja Apoorva. “You must bring your son and his friend to my palace next summer.”
“As long as we don’t have to count crows or cook rice,” said Prince Veera, “we’d be delighted.”
It was a busy morning for Suku. He had agreed to help out in the fields before going to his classes with Prince Veera.
Suku’s cousins and some neighbors were working alongside him. Everyone usually joked and laughed as they worked. Sometimes they sang, too. But this morning they were talking about the guard who stood outside the king’s court. Suku inched closer to listen.
“He will take half of everything you would get,” said one woman.
“Really? Does the king know?” asked the other.
“No one dares to complain about the king’s guard to the king,” said the first woman.
“How do you know it’s true?” asked the second.
“My brother went to see the king and was given ten silver pieces to build a new hut,” said the first woman. “The guard took five of those. My brother has hardly anything left to finish the hut now.”
“That’s terrible,” said the second woman.
Suku agreed. It was terrible. How could a king’s guard be dishonest and corrupt? He had to tell Veera at once.
That day, after classes, as they munched on spicy puffed rice, Suku told Veera about the conversation he had overheard. Veera, too, was upset. It was his father’s court, after all. He had to do something about it.
“That’s the new guard,” said Veera. “He was appointed only a few days ago.”
“New or old,” said Suku, “he’s not supposed to take anything from the people.”
“Maybe we should tell Father,” said Veera.
“We’ve no proof,” said Suku.
“Then what should we do?” asked Veera. “We need to put this right.”
“Maybe we should catch him red-handed.” Suku paused and thought for a moment. “I’ve got a plan.”
Veera listened as Suku outlined his idea. “That might work,” said Veera. “Let’s hope Father doesn’t give the game away.”
Veera quickly changed out of his expensive clothes and put on ordinary ones. He did this often when he and Suku visited markets and the village square. This time they were going to the royal court, pretending to be poor.
At the entrance there was a line. They watched the guard as he talked to each person before they entered the big hall where the court was held.
“Do you think he’s discussing his share?” asked Veera.
“Maybe,” said Suku. “Or talking about the weather.”
Veera chuckled. “For his sake, let’s hope it is the weather.”
The line moved slowly. Finally it was Veera’s turn.
“What do you want?” asked the guard. As he was new, he hadn’t recognized the prince and he didn’t know Suku.
“We’ve come to see the king regarding a job,” said Suku.
“If you want me to let you in,” said the guard, “you must promise to give me half of what the king gives you.”
“But . . .” said Veera. “That’s unfair.”
“Standing here all day is unfair,” said the guard. “You give me my share or I won’t let you in.”
“Please let us in,” said Suku. “We promise to give you half of everything we get.”
“Clever boy,” said the guard as he opened the door.
King Bheema sat up in his throne in surprise when he saw Veera and Suku enter. But he didn’t say anything. Veera always had a reason for doing the things he did.
“State your case,” said the usher.
“Your Majesty,” said Veera, “we want to learn horseback riding and become soldiers. But we cannot afford to pay for riding lessons.”
Veera can ride like the wind and so can Suku, thought the king. What are the boys playing at?
“We want to train in your stables, Your Majesty,” said Suku.
“You want to train at the royal stables?” asked the king, playing along. “My stable is not a free school.”
“But we don’t have any money,” said Veera. “And no one else would teach us.”
“Nothing comes for free,” said the king. “If you want to train in the stables, first you have to prove worthy of it.”
“We’ll do anything, Your Majesty,” said Suku.
“You must work hard collecting the dung and cleaning the stables,” said the king. “Then I’ll let you train with my men.”
“That’s so kind of you, Your Majesty,” said Veera. “There is just one more request.”
“What’s that?” asked the king. This was getting stranger by the minute.
“You have to let your guard come with us, too,” said Veera.
“Why?”
“We promised to give him half of everything we got, Your Highness,” said Suku.
“Why would you do that?” asked the king.
“If we didn’t promise him half of what we got from you,” said Veera, “the guard wouldn’t let us in, Your Majesty.”
“Summon the guard!” shouted King Bheema to his minister. How dare someone demand a bribe for letting people into the court?
The guard was brought before the king.
“Thank you, Veera and Suku,” said the king. “You’ve indeed saved me from disgrace.”
The court cheered for the boys, crying “Long live Prince Veera! Long live Suku!”
The guard realized his greed had landed him in big trouble. The king decreed that the guard would be sent to work in the stables. Stripped of his guard duty and all of his ill-gotten wealth, the guard would have to collect horse dung for a long time.
“It’s good of you to take the farm gossip seriously,” said Suku.
Veera shrugged. “Listening to what everyone says is part of the job,” he said. “But now I want to play in the streets with you.”
Suku was the king of street games — especially gilli-danda, the game of stick and stone. The boys set out to play near Suku’s house. They rode their horses through the market square and past the village temple.
As always Veera’s guards followed him at a discreet distance.
“Wait!” called out Suku.
“What?”
“Someone is sleeping on the temple steps,” said Suku.
“He must be waiting for the temple to open,” said Veera.
“I want to check,” said Suku. “Maybe he’s hungry or lost.”
Veera followed him. The man had a tattered shawl draped over him and a dirty yellow cloth bag under his head.
“I think he’s homeless,” said Suku.
“But . . .” Veera hesitated. “I thought we provided homes to all homeless people.”
“Perhaps he has come from another town, looking for work.”
“Wake him up,
” said Veera. “Let’s get him to a choultry. All travelers get food and shelter there, don’t they?”
The guards woke the sleeping man. As soon as he opened his eyes and saw the guards, he tried to bolt.
“Don’t be afraid,” said Prince Veera. “We mean no harm. We just want to help.”
“No one can help me,” said the man, covering his face with a towel. “Please let me go.”
Prince Veera gestured to his guards to wait on the street.
“Now that it’s just the two of us boys,” said Suku, “tell us why you’re sleeping on the temple steps.”
“My name is Kalu,” said the man. “I’ve been running from one place to another ever since I escaped.”
“Escaped from where?” asked Veera.
“From Sheetalpur,” said Kalu. “From King Athi’s men.”
“Why?” asked Suku. “Did you commit any crime?”
“My crime was my tickly nose,” said Kalu. “All I did was sneeze at the wrong time.”
Prince Veera was intrigued. What was this man’s problem? How could a sneeze incur the wrath of King Athi?
Suku signaled to Veera to step aside.
“If he’s running away from a royal punishment,” said Suku, “your duty is to return him to King Athi of Sheetalpur.”
“But —”
“King Athi could invade your kingdom if you give shelter to one of his prisoners,” said Suku.
“But—”
“Veera, this is not gilli-danda,” warned Suku. “You have to follow the royal charters of all the kingdoms around you, otherwise you’ll put your own kingdom in danger.”
But Veera wanted to find out more. How could sneezing be a crime?
“My dear Kalu,” said Veera. “Tell us what happened.”
“I worked for King Athi, looking after his royal attire and his chambers,” explained Kalu. “We were all invited to his wedding.”
“Did you steal anything?” asked Suku.
“Of course not,” said Kalu. “I did the one thing that King Athi couldn’t forgive.”
“Did you eat his wedding cake?”
Kalu smiled sadly. “Maybe even that would not have caused my troubles,” he said. “I sneezed just at the moment King Athi tied the sacred knot of marriage.”
Mangoes, Mischief, and Tales of Friendship Page 5
