by Bali Rai
The crane, spotting an easy meal, settled on the branches of the pear tree.
‘My, what tasty fish,’ it said. ‘I wonder how many I can eat?’
After watching the pond for a while, the crane flew down to the water’s edge. When the fish saw him, they grew frightened. A few brave ones swam to the surface, but kept their distance.
‘Go away, cruel crane,’ the bravest fish said. ‘We won’t be your lunch today.’
The crane sighed. ‘I would never take advantage of you,’ it lied. ‘Not when you are in danger.’
‘What danger?’ the fish asked.
‘The sun is drying out your pond,’ the crane said, pretending to be sad. ‘Within days, the water will be gone and you will be dead.’
‘Why do you care?’ said the fish. ‘You would eat us anyway.’
‘Exactly,’ the crane replied. ‘But I don’t want to eat rotten fish. If you die, I will go hungry. My only choice is to save you all, and take you somewhere safer. That way, I’ll have a chance to catch a few of you, and you won’t be putrid.’
The fish considered the crane’s words. The pond was drying out. Perhaps it made sense to accept help from the crane?
‘What if we accept your kind offer?’ the fish asked.
The crane gave a smile. ‘Why, brother fish, there’s an enormous pond very close by. It’s teeming with life. I will take you there.’
‘But how will you do that?’ asked the fish.
‘In my beak, of course!’ the crane replied.
‘Pah!’ the fish cried. ‘You will just eat me!’
‘No, no!’ the crane protested. ‘I swear you will be safe. Upon my honour!’
‘Prove it,’ the fish replied.
‘Fair enough,’ the crane agreed. ‘Let me take one fish with me, to see the great pond. When I come back with your friend, you’ll believe my word.’
The bravest fish took the crane’s offer to the others. They discussed the situation for a while, and then agreed to accept help. When the crane heard their decision, it held back a sly grin.
‘No time to lose,’ it said, opening its beak. And into its mouth the bravest fish popped.
The crane soared away, and flew for a mile before landing at the great pond. It let the fish out, watching as it explored the waters.
‘This is a wonderful place!’ said the fish when it returned. ‘Amazing. I can’t wait to live here.’
‘See?’ said the crane. ‘I am a bird of my word, brother fish.’
Back at home, the brave fish told the others what it had seen. Instantly, every fish grew eager to leave. The great pond sounded like heaven. When the crane heard the news, it nearly laughed out loud.
‘Excellent,’ it said. ‘I’ll take all of you, but one by one. There’s only so much space in my beak.’
The brave fish went first, and the crane set off. Only this time it settled on a tree overlooking the pond.
‘You silly little thing,’ it sneered. ‘Now, I believe it’s my lunchtime.’ He released the fish from its mouth and laid it on the wide branch.
Using its beak, it speared the fish and gobbled it up. All that remained were its bones, which fell to the ground. The crane smiled and flew back for more.
‘Who’s next?’ it asked the other fish.
‘Me, me, me!!!’ came a chorus of voices …
And so, one by one, each fish went happily to its end. Soon the cruel crane was stuffed, and a huge pile of fish bones sat beneath the tree. But the crane had spied another creature whilst tricking the fish. It was a crusty old crab with giant black pincers. The cruel bird salivated at the thought of sweet crabmeat and flew back.
‘Brother crab,’ the crane called out on arrival. ‘I have taken the fish to a great pond, full of water. Won’t you join them?’
‘I see,’ the crab replied. ‘I suppose I should leave too.’
‘Then hurry,’ said the crane. ‘I am tired and this will be my last trip.’
The crab thought for a moment before replying. ‘But I’m too big for your beak,’ it said.
The crane nodded. ‘Yes,’ it said, feeling another pang of greed. ‘You are quite large, aren’t you?’
‘Maybe I’ll just stay here, then,’ said the crab.
‘No, no,’ the crane replied. ‘I’m sure there’s a way to carry you.’
‘I can think of one,’ the crab replied. ‘Why don’t I hold on to your neck? My pincers are very strong …’
‘Very well,’ said the crane, looking forward to more feasting.
The crane bent down low and the crab took hold. Although its new passenger was heavy, the crane’s wings were powerful, and away it went. As they approached the great pond, the crab spotted the mound of fish bones, and smiled to itself.
Ridiculous crane, it thought. As if I’m as brainless as those fish.
As the crane circled, the crab spoke up. ‘Why are we circling this great tree?’ it asked. ‘The pond is just there …’
The crane cackled in delight. ‘Because you have been fooled!’ it boasted.
It swooped down to the branch.
‘Now, loosen your grip,’ the crane demanded.
‘Hmmmm …’ the crab replied. ‘Maybe not.’
The crane sighed. ‘Look,’ it said. ‘You have been outwitted. Now let go …’
‘I think you might be confused,’ the crab told the crane. ‘Who tricked who this time?’
Suddenly, the crab tightened its grip, and the crane grew scared.
‘I’m sorry, dear crab!’ it cried. ‘Please forgive me and I will take you down to the pond!’
The crab smiled. ‘That seems fair,’ it said. ‘But hurry, otherwise I might get angry.’
The terrified crane flew down to the pond’s edge and settled in the mud.
‘There, brother crab!’ it said. ‘Now, let go!’
But the crab didn’t listen. With a sharp snip, it cut through the cruel crane’s neck, and the devious bird fell dead.
‘Oops!’ said the crab, before sliding into the cool, clear water of its new home.
The Curious Good Fortune of Harisarman the Hapless
Once there lived a hapless and unremarkable man called Harisarman. His life was filled with bad luck, failure and misery. When other men were starting families and making fortunes, Harisarman found himself without work and often insulted by his own wife.
‘Useless man!’ she would frequently say. ‘What did I do wrong, to end up with you? Were my stars so ill-fated?’
Whilst his wife worked day and night to make ends meet, Harisarman just sat in their hut, complaining about how awful his life had become. Even as a child, he had been unfortunate. Smaller and weaker than the other boys in his village, he couldn’t even run properly. Instead, Harisarman resembled a toad when he ran, and his own father would call him ‘Frog’ and chuckle hurtfully.
The people of his village showed Harisarman little respect, teasing and insulting him. The old women would scowl and shoo him away, and in children’s games he was always the joke. Indeed, some children had even created a rhyme with which to dishonour him.
‘Harisarman the Lazy, Harisarman the Fool,
Harisarman the dim-witted and useless old tool.’
But one day, thanks to a curious run of good fortune, Harisarman’s life began to change …
Realizing that the people in his village would never help him, Harisarman left. He walked to a nearby city, hoping to find work. He wandered the streets telling anyone he met of his awful life. With no jobs to be found, he decided to start begging. A passing merchant heard his desperate pleas and introduced himself.
‘My name is Datta,’ he said. ‘I am a wealthy man, and I need a servant couple. If you have a wife, I can give you work and a place to live.’
‘Oh, kind sir!’ Harisarman cried. ‘You have saved me!’
He fell to his knees and touched Datta’s feet, a sign of respect. ‘May you live for a thousand years!’ he said.
‘Yes, yes,’ sai
d Datta. ‘Bring your wife to my house in the morning. I will be waiting.’
When Harisarman asked where the merchant lived, Datta pointed out the grandest house in the city, sitting high on a hill and surrounded by beautiful gardens. Thanking Datta once more, Harisarman hurried home in excitement.
‘Woman, woman!’ he yelled on arrival. ‘Come quickly – I have secured our future!’
His wife, unaccustomed to seeing her wretched husband so happy, asked why he was shouting.
‘I have found work in the city,’ he explained. ‘A wealthy merchant has asked me to become his servant.’
‘A merchant?’
‘Yes!’ Harisarman replied. ‘And he is rich, dear wife – as rich as can be! We are saved!’
And so Harisarman and his wife left their village and began a new life in the city. The work was hard but it paid well, and Harisarman’s wife grew cheerful at the change in their fortunes.
‘Perhaps now,’ she said one evening, ‘we can be like ordinary folk. We have money and food, and our future is secure. We could even have children …’
Datta was very satisfied with Harisarman and his wife. They were very loyal and worked hard, and with good humour. Harisarman was content at last. As weeks became months, and months became years, his wife gave birth to two children, much to Harisarman’s joy. Soon he was made head servant, and his pride began to grow.
Yet, despite all of this, Harisarman still felt unfulfilled. Even though he was working and had raised a family, he remained a servant. Datta provided work and food, and shelter and wages, but he had little respect for Harisarman. Then, on the wedding day of Datta’s daughter, Harisarman learnt a lesson about his true standing in life.
Having planned and prepared a great feast for the numerous guests, Harisarman sat with his wife and their two young sons. Exhausted and hungry, he talked excitedly of the wonderful fare they would scoff that day. ‘How blessed we are!’ he said to his wife. ‘Tonight we shall gorge on tender lamb and tandoor-roasted chicken, saffron-infused rice and delicious curry!’
But when evening arrived, and the noble guests had eaten and drunk until they collapsed, Harisarman and his family were forgotten. As he wearily cleared the mess left behind, his master’s wife approached.
‘Well done,’ said his mistress. ‘The guests were delighted with our efforts. Make sure to keep any untouched food, and tomorrow we shall feast once more.’
‘Yes, mistress,’ Harisarman replied. ‘I will take some for my own family, if you would let me?’
His mistress smiled. ‘Yes, yes,’ she replied, waving her hand. ‘There are plenty of leftovers on the dirty plates. Scrape off anything you like and enjoy it with my blessing …’
As she strode away, Harisarman felt his anger grow. Were his family so lowly, that they should eat unclean food? Sinking to his knees, a familiar depression took hold of Harisarman, and he wept.
Later, when he returned to his family, his wife was excited to see what wonderful food he had brought them. But when Harisarman shook his head and explained, she grew puzzled.
‘But I thought …’ she began.
‘Today, I have learnt my true status,’ he said with sorrow. ‘I was foolish to think Datta and his wife would treat us as equals. We work hard and obey their every wish, yet to them we are nothing but animals. Is this our only destiny?’
For two more days, Harisarman brooded. Then, on the third, he had a splendid idea. That night, he told his wife. ‘I am stupid and poor, and have never shown any ambition,’ he said. ‘That is why people disrespect me. But no more!’
‘What will you do?’ his wife asked, growing anxious.
‘I will gain my master’s respect,’ Harisarman replied. ‘But to achieve this, I need your help …’
He whispered his plan, and his wife’s eyes grew wide in surprise.
The following evening, an important nobleman came to stay. Harisarman said nothing, and carried out his duties as usual. As Datta’s noble guests ate and drank, Harisarman stood patiently, watching everything. Soon everyone went to bed, and Harisarman saw his chance. Sure that they slept, he crept softly from the house. Taking a lamp, he went to his master’s stables, where the nobleman had tethered his magnificent horse. Harisarman quickly untied the great creature and rode off into the night. On the outskirts of the city, he found an abandoned yard, and there he hid the horse, before returning at speed so that he would not get caught.
When the sun rose next morning, Harisarman was already awake. Taking his wife aside, he whispered, ‘There will be lots of fuss this morning. I won’t say any more, in case my plan goes wrong, but please remember what I said.’
‘When our master asks,’ said Harisarman’s wife, ‘I must tell him that you are gifted.’
‘Yes,’ said Harisarman.
‘But what if it doesn’t work?’ she asked.
‘It will,’ Harisarman told her. ‘Trust me.’
When news of the missing horse reached Datta and his wife, they were furious. They called for the stable hands and grew angry with them.
‘Go and find the horse at once!’ Datta ordered.
‘We cannot be embarrassed like this,’ Datta’s wife added. ‘We will lose all respect if the horse isn’t found!’
The stable hands left at once, and were gone all morning. When they returned empty-handed, Datta and his wife were sick with worry. Harisarman watched silently, waiting for the perfect moment. When Datta called every servant to the kitchens, to discuss the matter in secret, Harisarman called to his wife.
‘Come quickly, my love.’
Datta raged and shouted but it did no good. The horse was gone, and soon the nobleman would discover it missing too. Harisarman cleared his throat. ‘Master,’ he said. ‘I have a gift, which might help us.’
‘A gift?’ Datta asked.
‘Yes,’ Harisarman replied. ‘Since childhood, I have been able to read the stars and do certain acts of magic.’
‘Preposterous!’ said Datta. ‘You’ve never mentioned this before.’
Harisarman’s wife spoke up. ‘My husband is indeed a wise man,’ she said. ‘He might be able to help you, master.’
Datta and his wife, desperate to save their honour, agreed.
‘Yesterday, my family were allowed only scraps from used plates,’ Harisarman said. ‘Yet today, you need my skills.’
Datta’s wife grew ashamed and lowered her eyes.
‘Dear Harisarman,’ she pleaded. ‘Please forgive my shameful act yesterday. If you can help us, I promise to show you the respect you deserve.’
Harisarman nodded. ‘Very well,’ he replied. ‘But I must have complete privacy. Otherwise my gifts won’t work.’
Harisarman locked himself away with paper and pencils, and began to draw. He drew circles and stars, and stick-images of animals, and wrote a few words here and there. None of it made sense, but that didn’t matter. Harisarman’s plan was working perfectly.
Some while later, he emerged from his room, carrying his diagram with him.
‘There is an abandoned yard, east of the city,’ Harisarman proclaimed. ‘There, the thieves have hidden the horse. You’ll have to be quick, master, because they will move it tonight.’
Datta set off at once, taking some men with him. He returned barely an hour later with the nobleman’s horse.
‘Oh, Harisarman!’ he said. ‘Today you have saved my family’s honour. From this day forth, you will have a fine apartment and be paid double what you earn now!’
And so Harisarman grew richer and happier, and his family lived a fine life.
All was well, until the day came when Harisarman’s gifts were needed again. The rajah was a close friend of Datta’s, and one day he asked his friend’s advice. For weeks, gold and jewels had been taken from the rajah’s palace, but no thief had been caught.
‘Dear friend,’ the rajah said to Datta, ‘What can I do? My palace should be safe and secure. What will people think of me, if they discover that my belongings a
re stolen so easily?’
Datta at once thought of Harisarman’s gifts. ‘Dear Rajah,’ he said, ‘I have the answer – my head servant, Harisarman. He is gifted and will discover your thief!’
Harisarman was immediately summoned to the palace. When he found out why, his knees began to tremble. Anxious and ashamed, Harisarman cursed his foolish lies. Now his secret would be exposed and the rajah would have him thrown in jail, or worse.
‘My gifts don’t work this way,’ he said, attempting to cover his tracks. ‘They don’t just appear. I will require both time and privacy to solve this puzzle.’
On hearing this, the rajah had a room prepared for Harisarman. ‘You shall have anything you need,’ he said. ‘But I beg you, oh wise sage, find me my thief!’
Placed in the guarded room, Harisarman wept. He thought of the shame his wife and children would suffer. Once his dishonesty was revealed, he would face terrible consequences. As he sat crying, however, his curious good fortune continued. Unseen by Harisarman, a maid called Jihva quietly entered the chamber. As she began to clean, Harisarman cursed his lying tongue, completely ignorant of the maid’s presence.
‘Oh, deceitful Tongue!’ he said, ‘What terrible lies you have told because of greed. Oh, wicked Tongue, soon you will pay for your crimes!’
When Jihva heard Harisarman’s words, she fell to her knees before him.
‘Oh, gifted sage!’ she cried, ‘I beg mercy! You have caught me. I stole those things, with my brother!’
Harisarman, shocked and surprised, asked the woman her name.
‘Why, it is Jihva,’ said the maid, ‘Just as you said.’
Harisarman smiled and shook his head in disbelief. The maid’s name, Jihva, meant tongue! He was saved yet again.
‘GUARD!’ he bellowed. ‘I have found the thief! Send for the rajah.’
Harisarman was rewarded with a large house and bags of gold. Once penniless and ridiculed, he was now a very wealthy man. Oh, how he wished that his old neighbours might see him now. Happy and relaxed, Harisarman hurried home to tell his wife the wonderful news. No longer would they work as servants. Now they were rich and had a house of their own. Life was finally perfect.