by Soham Saha
Without a tail the elephant roams,
He told the tree and its leaves shrivelled,
The dove went blind before it drivelled,
To the cow herd, his stick his finger twined,
The pan stuck to the maid’s hand and this plate to mine.”
And instantly, the king got stuck to the mat.
But it was time for him to go to his courtroom. His servants lifted him with the mat, and put him on to the throne.
All the men in the courtroom were amazed, but nobody asked the king about his strange condition, fearing for their lives. There was an awkward silence in the court. Eventually, the king said,
“I bet all of you want to know what happened to me.”
The courtmen nodded in unison.
The king said, “If I tell you, all of you will be stuck to your seats.”
The courtmen agreed, and the king said,
“The louse lady burnt to death,
The crane fasted for seven days,
The river’s water turned to foam,
Without a tail the elephant roams,
He told the tree and its leaves shrivelled,
The dove went blind before it drivelled,
To the cow herd, his stick his finger twined,
A pan stuck to the maid and a plate to the queen.
I thought it was all superstition,
Now I can’t move from the mat I sat on.”
And immediately, all the noblemen got stuck to their respective seats.
Luckily, there was a very clever jester in the court, and he called in a carpenter, to cut the men loose from their seats, and also the king. A little wood that was stuck to their behinds was chiselled off.
The plate on the queen’s hand, the maid’s pan, and the cow herder’s stick were also removed. And everyone learned to mind their own business.
The Brahmin, the Tiger and the Fox
In front of the gate to the king’s palace, there was a large cage enclosing a tiger. The king’s tiger. Every day people stared at the tiger when passing by, and the tiger asked them, “Brother, please open the door to my cage.”
And the people smirked and replied, “Yeah, we do that, and you break our neck. Not gonna happen.”
One day, there was a big feast at the king’s palace. So a lot of people were flooding in. A very gullible Brahmin was also among the guests. It was early morning, and the Brahmin had come to rest under a tree, when he spotted the tiger. Seeing the Brahmin, the tiger fell to its knees, and began to salute him again and again.
The Brahmin thought, “Bah, what a nice tiger.”
The tiger said, “Please, Mr Brahmin, I am begging you. Please open the door to my cage.”
The Brahmin obliged, and the tiger came out laughing, and said, “Brahmin. I am going to eat you now.”
If it were someone else, he would have run for it. But the Brahmin was not a good runner. He said, “Huh? I just saved your life, and you want to eat me? Who does something like that?”
“Why, everyone does it.”
The Brahmin said, “Fine. Let’s ask three witnesses. If they agree to you, you will eat me. If they agree to me, I go away.”
The tiger said, “Fine by me.”
They went to a field to find witnesses. There was a small path separating two rice fields. The Brahmin came to the path, and said, “This path is my first witness.”
The Brahmin asked the path, “Path, do tell me. If I do someone good, will he do something bad to me?”
The path replied, “Of course he will. Look at me! I let people walk over me. I keep their farms separated. I stop one man’s irrigation from entering another’s. But what do they do? They cut me with their ploughs to increase their farmlands.”
The tiger said, “See? I was right. If someone does you good, you have to harm them.”
The Brahmin said, “Wait. I still have two witnesses left.”
The tiger said, “So be it.”
They went along a little bit far, and came across a banyan tree. The Brahmin said, “This is my second witness.”
The tiger said, “Ask him. See what he has to say.”
“Oh banyan tree,” said the Brahmin. “You are old and wise. You tell us. If I do someone good, will he harm me?”
“Well, people do that all the time. Look at those people over there. They rested under me at night. In the morning, they poked me to get my sap. They tore my leaves to take the sap with them, and one of them broke a branch from me for no good reason.”
The tiger said, “See? What did I tell you?”
Now the Brahmin was in trouble. He was worried he would not get a third witness who could support him. Luckily, a fox was passing by. The Brahmin said, “That is my last witness.”
He called the fox, “Clever fox, wait up. You are my witness.”
The fox was startled and asked, “What? How did I become your witness, and to what?”
The Brahmin said, “Okay, tell me this. If I do someone good, will he harm me?”
The fox thought for a while and said, “I have to know in detail before answering. Who helped whom, and who harmed whom?’
The Brahmin pointed to the tiger and said, “This tiger was trapped in a cage, and I was walking by, when…”
The fox interrupted, “It’s too complicated. I need to see the cage and the path to get a clear picture.”
And they walked all the way back to the cage. The fox walked around the cage, and up and down the path, and said, “Okay, I see the path and the cage. So, what happened?”
So, the Brahmin said, “The tiger was in the cage, and I, the Brahmin, was walking down the path…”
The fox stopped him again, “Wow there! It’s too complicated. Go slowly. So, the tiger was a Brahmin, and the path was walking inside the cage, right?”
The tiger laughed at this, and said, “No you idiot. I was trapped inside the cage, and the Brahmin was walking by, in the path.”
The fox shook his head and blinked. “Wait. I got it now. The Brahmin was trapped inside the cage, and the path was walking by the tiger, right?”
The tiger said impatiently, “No. the tiger was in the cage, and the Brahmin was on the path.”
The fox said, “It’s too confusing. The tiger was inside the Brahmin, and the path was walking along the cage?”
The tiger roared out in frustration now, “No, you idiot! I was in the cage, and the Brahmin was in the cage… no… the path. You are getting me confused now. I was in the cage, and the Brahmin on the path. Got it?”
The fox sighed, shaking his head, and sat down. “It’s too complicated. I don’t think I can help you here.”
The tiger was furious now. “No, you have to understand. I was inside the cage. See? Like this.” He jumped into the cage.
Immediately, the fox locked the cage door. Then he said, “Now I understand. Mr Brahmin, I am with the tiger on this one. You should not help a wicked person. Now go to the feast and enjoy yourself.”
And the Brahmin went to the feast and the fox to his own business. And the tiger foolishly stared at them, his mouth open.
The Story that Never Ends
Once upon a time, in a land just beyond the horizon, there lived a king. He had a son and a daughter, he had a beautiful wife. The land was prospering. No enemy king was plotting against him. He had no reason not to be content. So he invented one.
He set out word, that if a storyteller could tell him a story, that would go on and on, until he got tired, he would make the storyteller rich beyond dreams. But if the storyteller ever stopped before the king urged, he would be thrown into the dungeons.
The demand seemed simple at first, so hundreds of storytellers began to flock in from nations all over the world. They had stories of kings and kingdoms, ghouls and ghosts, thieves and plunderers, fairies and mermaids, and everything else that lived under the sun. There was one problem, though. None of the stories were long enough.
On a typical day, a storyteller would start – “On
ce upon a time, in a land far far away, there lived a king and a queen.”
“And then?” the king would ask.
“The citizens loved their king, enemies feared the king, and the kingdom prospered. But the king was not happy.”
“Go on.” The king would urge.
“The king did not have an heir, you see.”
“Then what happened.”
The story would continue, with its twists and turns, and eventually, the long repeated line would appear,
“And then they lived happily ever after.”
“And then what happened?”
After this point, it was a test of stamina. The storyteller would continue the story, adding lines after lines of whatever he could cook up. But eventually, his stock would end. His throat would be perched, and he would stop at one point, exhausted. And then, he would be thrown into prison.
After a while, the flocks of storytellers flooding into town dispersed, and eventually, it stopped.
One day, a weary traveller came to the kingdom. He asked the men around, “Is this the kingdom where storytellers enter but never leave?”
The people said yes.
“Tell your king I ask for an audience.”
The king was carrying out his daily duties in his courtroom. After the never ending rush of stories, everyday life seemed dull and trivial.
And everyone was quite startled when a tall, bearded man in a dirty old robe came bursting into the king’s hall.
“I demand an audience with the king.”
“And you have been granted your demand,” said the king, curious.
“Is it true that you have been jailing storytellers from all over the world in your dungeons?”
“Yes, and what of it?”
“Nothing of it.” He said, stroking his beard.” Tell me king, what did the men do to be thrown into the dark cells?”
“Their stories ended before I got tired,” said the king.
“And what did they wish to win?” the man asked.
“A large sum of money,” was the reply.
“Can I have a go at this game of yours?”
The king thought for a while. Then he said, “Well, what do I have to lose? Go on.”
“But I have a condition.” said the man. “If at any point of the story, you ask me to stop or to rush to the end, you would have to grant me anything I ask for.”
“You are raising the stakes,” said the king, “So be it, but if you stop before I tell you to, off with your head.”
The old man agreed.
And then, he began his story.
“Just last year, in a country over yonder, the people were preparing for a great harvest.”
“This is new,” said the king, “Now go on.”
“But the country had a little problem. After every harvest, a huge swarm of locusts would fly into the fields, covering the sky, and eating all the grain. The farmers all gathered together, and devised a plan to save their crop.”
“And…”
“They divided into two groups. One was doing the harvest, and the other group weaved together layer upon layer of fibre to make a giant drum with no holes in them, so that no locust could go in.”
“And then?”
“After several weeks of hard work, the drum was completed. It was two miles in circumference, and over a mile in height. Grain was poured upon it, until it filled to the brim. Then the farmers tied the drum up real good, and went to sleep.”
“What happened next?”
“No sooner than the farmers had gone to sleep did the locusts appear. They swarmed over the sky, and covered every inch of the drum. But they could not go in, because the drum was weaved so neatly.”
“And then?”
“But the locusts were not so keen on giving up. They looked all over the surface, hoping for the tiniest hole, so that they could get the grains out. The search went on for hours, and finally, one of the locusts found the tiniest of holes where the fibres were crisscrossed. But the hole was so small, only one locust could go in at a time. So the first locust got in.”
“And then?”
“He picked up the grain, squirmed out of the hole, and flew away.”
“And then?”
“The next locust got in, took a grain, and flew away.”
“And then?”
“The next one.”
“And then?”
“Another one.”
“And then?”
“Another one.”
And this went on and on. The king could not ask the man to stop, or ask him to skip to the end of the story.”
This went on for days, and weeks, and just when everyone thought they would go mad, the king said,
“Fine, I yield. Take whatever you want. I can’t listen to this stupid story anymore.”
Then the man said, “Very well. Release all the storytellers from your dungeons. The world is churning out good stories, and people are needed to capture them.”
Once the last man was released, the storyteller said his goodbye, and told the king, “Farewell, king, but it’s a pity you did not listen till the end of the story. It has such a nice ending.”
“Just get out of my sight,” yelled the king.
The man swirled his robe, and disappeared. He was never seen in the kingdom again.
Epilogue
In the grassy plains in the morning shine
A cow once chewed on an eggplant vine
It pulled and pulled till the eggplant bent
And thus my story comes to an end.