Indian Children's Favorite Stories Read online

  That is how Tenali Raman, as the young boy came to be known, found his place at the court of the king of Vijayanagara. Perhaps it is because of the blessing of goddess Kali that people continue to enjoy his jokes to this very day!

  Journey to Heaven

  Emperor Akbar’s court was famous for its poets, musicians, philosophers and wise men of all sorts—and wisest of them all was Birbal. Birbal was Akbar’s chief minister and closest friend.

  But some in the court were jealous of the special place that Birbal held in the emperor’s heart. They secretly plotted against Akbar and tried their best to get rid of Birbal.

  These courtiers knew even if Akbar did not see through their plans, certainly Birbal was shrewd enough to do so. For this reason, they looked around for a stooge—someone foolish who could be tricked into doing the dirty work for them. Someone who would take the blame should anything go wrong. They found the royal barber—a vain, lazy and rather greedy man who lacked judgment and discretion.

  They set to work on him. They pretended to bump into the barber accidentally in the courtyard, and as they passed him, one of them would say,

  “Salutations Sahib! Greetings! How are you today? Oh, you are a lucky man indeed. I have been trying to meet with the emperor for over a month and haven’t succeeded yet. But you, you are guaranteed an audience with the emperor every day! You…and Birbal.”

  The barber was surprised and pleased. He realized it was true. He did get to see the emperor every day to groom his hair.

  And on another day they would greet him saying, “Salaams Sahib! How goes it with you today? Ha! You smile, but what secrets do you carry in that well-groomed head of yours? You are fortunate indeed! You have a special place in the emperor’s heart. You…and Birbal.”

  And they poked him in the back, friendly-like, and joked, “You are special indeed. The emperor must trust you. He allows you to come so close to him, and with a razor in your hand too! Ho, ho! You better watch out, people will become jealous of your power!”

  The barber tried to laugh it off.

  But then, they whispered in his ear. “Jokes aside, do you know that they say Birbal is jealous of you? You better be careful!”

  And again, “I don’t know how you look so calm. I wouldn’t be able to sleep, or even close my eyes, if I knew that Birbal was jealous of me.”

  And finally they warned, “I hear Birbal is plotting against you. Watch out! Birbal is a dangerous man. A very dangerous man indeed!”

  When they had frightened him enough, they persuaded him to try and get rid of Birbal. They whispered in his ear, “With Birbal out of the way, your future will be secure. In fact, you might never have to do another day of work. You could live like a prince yourself! Ha! Ha!”

  Finally, the barber decided to do something.

  The next morning, while shaving Emperor Akbar, the barber said, “Your Majesty, do you ever wonder how your father is doing in heaven?”

  Akbar, who was a very practical man, answered, “What would be the point of that? Neither you, nor I, nor anybody else can ever know what is happening in heaven.”

  “Well, Your Highness,” suggested the barber, “perhaps, you could send someone to find out.”

  “Yes, I could,” laughed the emperor. “But the man would have to be dead to do that, wouldn’t he? So how could he come back to report to me what he sees?”

  “Well, Your Majesty,” said the barber, carefully, “I have heard that there is a holy man—a sadhu, who lives deep in the jungle and has learnt how to send people to heaven.”

  “And how does he do that?” asked the emperor.

  “The sadhu recites special prayers, and when the man is placed on a burning pyre, he rises with the ashes to heaven,” answered the barber.

  Akbar was now getting impatient with the barber. “Yes, but do they come back?”

  “Oh yes, Your Majesty!” declared the barber confidently. “All the sadhu does is say the prayers backwards and he is able to bring them back.”

  “Whom should I send?” wondered the emperor aloud, looking meaningfully at the barber.

  “Someone worthy of the task!” said the barber quickly. “The wisest man in the land—except for Your Majesty, of course. Someone like…Birbal!”

  The emperor now knew that this was another plot against him, but he was curious to see how Birbal would deal with the challenge, so he summoned him.

  “Birbal, listen carefully now. You are to go on an important journey—a journey to heaven. The barber has suggested that you go and see how my father is doing.”

  Akbar explained about the sadhu’s special skill. Birbal was no fool. He agreed to go immediately, but asked for a little time to get ready. “It will be a great honor, Your Majesty. However, for a journey of such importance, there are preparations to be made, gifts to be bought, rites and rituals to be observed.”

  The emperor agreed to his request.

  A few weeks later, Birbal told the emperor he was ready. The royal procession set off from the palace to a lonely spot in the jungle. The barber was there, disguised as a holy man. The barber instructed that Birbal be laid on the pyre, which had been piled high with incense and fragrant sandalwood.

  Then the barber, chanting loud prayers he had made up for the occasion, lit the fire. As the flames began to crackle and rise, the barber’s accomplices began to chant loudly with him.

  In the confusion of the prayers, chanting and smoke, clever Birbal escaped into a tunnel he had dug under the pyre. The tunnel led all the way through the jungle, back to his house.

  Safe at home, Birbal was careful to stay indoors and let no one see him.

  One day passed. Two days. A week. A month, and still Birbal had not returned.

  The emperor was worried. Birbal had been his best friend!

  Then, suddenly, Birbal appeared in the court. His long hair and beard looked untidy, but otherwise he seemed in good health and spirits.

  The emperor was delighted. “Birbal, you are back! How is my father? What news do you bring?”

  “Your father is well, Your Majesty,” said Birbal, bowing low, “and delighted by the concern you show for his welfare.”

  “Is he happy? Does he need anything?” enquired the emperor.

  “Your father is quite comfortable, Your Majesty. He lacks nothing except…”

  “Except what?” demanded the emperor.

  “Well, Your Majesty,” replied Birbal, “as you can see from my long hair and beard, there isn’t a single good barber in heaven. Your father wonders—if it is not too much trouble—whether you could send him one.”

  “My father should lack nothing!” declared the emperor promptly.

  The barber was quickly summoned, put on a similar pyre and sent on his journey to heaven.

  And that was the end of the barber.

  The Foolish Man

  Guruswami and his wife lived in the village. Oh, they were foolish! And, oh, were they stubborn! So foolish and stubborn, in fact, that they would argue all night over which one of them was the bigger fool.

  A neighbor could not bear the noise they made any longer. He went up to them to try and settle the argument once and for all.

  “Aiyoh, Swami! Neither of you is the biggest fool in the world. There are much bigger fools out there! If you don’t believe me, go and see for yourselves.”

  Guruswami’s wife, being perhaps the more stubborn of the two, did not believe their neighbor and so saw no reason to find out. But Guruswami thought all night about what the man had said.

  The next morning, tying his turban firmly on his head, he set out to see the world. He wanted to find out for himself if what their neighbor had said was true.

  He wandered around from village to village asking about the fools who lived there. Finally, someone told him about an
entire village of idiots. When he went there, he found the villagers running around, carrying empty baskets in and out of their houses.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Oh,” explained one villager, wearily mopping his brow, “it is a nice hot day, and the sun is shining bright. But our houses are dark, even at midday. So, we are trying to gather the sunlight in baskets to light up our homes. But it does not seem to be working very well.”

  Guruswami looked at their houses and thought quickly.

  “Oh, that’s easy,” he said. “If you pay me, I will fill your houses with light.”

  The tired villagers quickly agreed. They paid him a hundred rupees.

  Guruswami went into their houses and opened all the doors and windows.

  Light soon poured into the houses. The villagers bowed down and touched his feet in respect.

  As he walked on, Guruswami came to another curious sight. Several men— all of whom were tall, hefty and bulging with muscles—were trying to get the trunk of a tree into a house through a doorway that was far too small for it. They pushed and shoved, twisted and turned, but the trunk just would not go through. Finally they picked it up and ran into the doorway so hard that the entire house was in danger of falling down.

  Guruswami offered to help—if they were willing to pay him. They agreed. Guruswami found that the tree trunk was to be used to make a wooden altar and furniture for the house. He arranged for the trunk to be sawed into smaller pieces, which were then carried into the house easily.

  As he walked further, he came upon an even stranger sight. An old woman was tugging and pulling at a buffalo, trying to coax it to climb up onto the roof of her house. She even beat it, but the buffalo refused to budge. “Amma,” Guruswami addressed the old woman respectfully. “Why do you want the buffalo to climb up onto the roof?” “Over the years, sand has collected on the roof and now a tuft of fresh grass is growing there.

  But this stupid buffalo will not move, and so cannot eat it,” replied the woman in exasperation.

  “I will arrange to feed it for a few rupees,” said Guruswami, smiling broadly.

  The woman agreed. Guruswami climbed up onto the roof, cut the grass and gave it to the cow to eat. The grateful woman gave him some money.

  It was now evening. As Guruswami passed an open doorway, he heard voices rising in anger.

  A husband and his wife were arguing about whose turn it was to shut the door.

  “It’s your turn!” shouted the husband.

  “No, it isn’t!” responded the wife furiously. “You opened it, so you shut it!”

  This went on till both husband and wife were quite hoarse. Finally the husband said, “Well, neither of us can sleep unless we end this argument. So, let’s settle on another way.

  The first one who moves or speaks will have to shut the door. Do you agree?”

  “Yes!” said the wife firmly. And then there was complete silence.

  Guruswami waited for a while before tiptoeing through the doorway and entering the house. He found the couple in bed with their arms crossed, glaring at each other.

  Through the corner of their eyes, they saw him but they did not speak a word. Instead they continued to challenge each other with their stares.

  Guruswami walked around the room, examining everything in it. Neither husband nor wife said a word or moved.

  Guruswami found a beautifully carved box in a drawer. It looked valuable. He opened it, and found that it was full of money—their life savings.

  “Fate must have led me here for a reason,” said Guruswami to the couple. “If neither of you has any objection, perhaps I should take this home with me? What do you say?”

  Still, the husband and wife neither moved nor spoke.

  Guruswami picked up the box and carried it out. The quarrelsome couple, not wanting to lose the argument, let him walk out of their home without saying a word!

  But a moment later, he heard them shouting at each other, “You spoke first, so you shut the door!”

  By this time, Guruswami had realized that he was certainly much smarter than he had thought. And that, he realized too, was a good thing.

  He went home quite pleased with his newfound wealth and wisdom, stopped arguing with his wife, and lived happily for the rest of his life.

  Glossary

  Aiyoh, Rama, Ramaaa!: an exclamation for frustration which calls to God for help.

  asura: the demons or titans who war against the devas in Hindu mythology. In the Vedic age, the asuras and devas were both considered classes of gods, but gradually they came to oppose each other.

  auspicious: a time that is forecast to be favorable, often based on astrology. cremation ground: the grounds where dead bodies are burnt to ashes. gandharas: mythical beings, such as nature spirits who may be heavenly singers and musicians.

  ghee: clarified butter, often used in traditional Indian sweets.

  Kali: the female counterpart to Siva, God of Destruction. Often fearsome, she is a very complex deity and embodies many contrasts.

  pyre: a large pile of wood on which a dead body is placed and burnt in funeral rites.

  rakshasa: male demons who are among the most feared of all creatures in Hindu mythology. They are powerful creatures that can change to the forms of animals or humans. Rakshasas are fond of torturing human beings and have even been known to feast on them.

  Salaams Sahib!: a respectful salutation, accompanied by a bow and a gesture of the hands.

  swami: This word has many meanings including god. However, it is often used to refer to a teacher, especially a spiritual teacher such as a guru. In this story it is also a casual diminutive or short-form of the full name, Guruswami—which can be ironical, considering his foolishness.