SUDHA MURTY GRANDMA BAGS OF STORIES

Episode 1

The Beginning of the Stories

Summer holidays! Ajji smiled to herself as she waited for two more of her

grandchildren to arrive. Raghu and Meenu would be here soon. Anand and

Krishna had already arrived with their mother the previous evening. They had

been waiting restlessly for their cousins to arrive ever since. Even though Ajji

told them Raghu and Meenu would be here the next morning, these two kids

just would not listen. They went to the railway station with their grandfather,

Ajja, to receive them. The train must have pulled into the tiny railway station

of Shiggaon by now, and their grandfather would have hired a taxi to bring

them home along with their mother and the stacks of luggage.

Ajji hurried through her bath. She had finished cooking their favourite

dishes, and was now wearing a nice, soft cotton sari before going to the

veranda to wait for them.

There! There they came! What a noise the children were making! They all

nearly tumbled out of the car and came leaping and shouting to her, each

wanting to be the first to be hugged by her. Each one wanted to be closest to

Ajji.

Soon the children settled down. A visit to Ajji and Ajja’s house meant first

inspecting the garden to see how much the plants had grown since they last

came. Then they went to check on the cows, calves, dog, pups, cats and

kittens. Then they all ate huge quantities of Ajji’s delicious food. Finally,

while their mothers went off to chat and rest, the children gathered around

their grandmother for the best part of the holidays—listening to her wonderful

stories, particularly in the late afternoon.

Let us, too, gather under the fast revolving fan, on a mat on the floor,

fighting to be nearest to her, and listen in.

The first day, the children asked, ‘Ajji, how do you know so many stories?’

Ajji smiled and answered, ‘My grandmother told me many stories. Some I

read in books. A few I learnt from youngsters like you, and the rest from your

Ajja.’ Then Ajji paused and said, ‘I see all of you have grown a lot since the

last time I saw you. So before I start telling a*********s, I want to know what

each of you want to be when you grow up.’

Raghu, who was eleven years old, and the oldest of all, said immediately, ‘I

want to be an environment scientist.’ Meenu, who was nine, said, ‘I have not

decided, maybe a computer person like my dad.’ Anand, who was ten, said, ‘I

want to be an astronaut,’ and his twin sister Krishna firmly said, ‘I want to

become a fashion designer.’ Ajji smiled. ‘I am glad all of you have thought

about this. We should always have some aim in life which we must try to

achieve while being of help to others. Now let me tell you a story of a person

who learnt just such a lesson.’

Shall we, too, join Ajji and her gang of young friends and hear the story?

On a blazing hot summer afternoon, an old man came walking down a narrow

village path. He was tired and thirsty. Right by the road, he spotted a tiny

grocery store. It had a tin roof and mud walls. The shopkeeper sat inside

fanning himself and shooing away the flies that were buzzing around in the

stifling heat. There was a little bench in front of the store where the villagers

met when evening came and the land had cooled down. The old man flopped down on the bench. He was so tired that for a while he could not speak.

Finally, he opened his mouth and uttered one word, ‘Water!’

Now, this village had been facing a horrible problem for a long time. It was

near a great desert and the rains came only once a year to fill its ponds and

wells. But the rains had disappeared for the last two years, and the villagers

had been making do with water from a faraway stream. Every morning groups

of men and women walked a long distance, filled their pots from the little

stream and used that the whole day. Naturally, no one wanted to waste even a

drop of this precious water.

Yet how do you say no to a thirsty, tired old man when he asks for water?

Without a second thought, the shopkeeper, Ravi, who was very kindhearted,

poured out a tumbler of water from his pot and gave it to the old man. The

man drank it up greedily. Then he said one more word: ‘More!’ And without

waiting for Ravi to give it to him, he lunged for the pot, picked it up and

lifting it to his lips drank up Ravi’s entire day’s supply of water!

Poor Ravi, what could he do? He just stared in dismay. Then he told

himself, ‘Never mind. After all, I did help someone in need.’

The stranger, meanwhile, now seemed to feel better. He handed the pot

back to Ravi, gave a smile that filled Ravi’s heart with warmth and said, ‘My

son, always be kind like this. Help everyone who comes to you like you

helped me, and you will be blessed.’ Then he picked up his stick and slowly

hobbled down the road. Ravi watched the strange old man disappear into the

distance, then returned to his shop.

The afternoon heat grew worse. After a while Ravi felt his head was about

to burst with a headache. His lips were parched and his throat hurt, it was so

dry. He really needed a drink of water. But the visitor had finished it all up!

Hoping to coax a drop or two out of the pot, Ravi lifted it to his lips and tilted

it. Imagine his surprise when a gush of water ran down his face! It was sweet,

refreshing water which not only quenched his thirst, but wiped out his

headache too.

Ravi was staring at the water pot, trying to figure out what had just

happened, when Karim limped into his shop. Karim was a young man who

had hurt his leg in an accident many years ago which had left him with a limp.

When he was unwell or tired, his limp became worse. Karim, too, flopped

down on the bench in front of the store and caught his breath, like the old

man. Then he fished out a shopping list from his pocket and handed it to Ravi.

As Ravi started packing up the items listed on the paper, Karim opened a little

bundle of food and ate his lunch sitting on the bench. Finally he wiped his

mouth on his scarf and pointed to Ravi’s pot of water. ‘Mind if I take a little

sip? It is so hot after all.’

Ravi was busy measuring out some dal. He said without looking up, ‘I

would be happy to offer you some, but someone’s already had most of it.

Then I was feeling unwell and I think I finished the last of it.’

‘What are you saying, my friend? I can clearly see the pot brimming over

with water!’

Ravi looked up and stared in disbelief. In front of his eyes, Karim poured

out a tumblerful of water and drank it. Then he paid for all his groceries and

left the store.

Did his limp look as if it was nearly gone? Ravi watched him for a while

trying to figure out, then decided the heat was playing tricks on his mind and

went back into the cool comfort of his shop and dozed off.

He woke with a start as someone was calling his name urgently. He opened

his eyes to find Karim back. This time he was holding by the hand his little

sister Fatima. ‘Brother, wake up. We need your help,’ Karim urged.

‘Wh-what? Is something wrong?’

‘Fatima is burning up with fever!’

‘Then go to a doctor, why have you got her to a grocery shop?’

Karim stared at him and said, ‘You mean you don’t know how you just

helped me? My leg, which has been troubling me for the last many years,

healed up on its own as soon as I drank the water from your magic pitcher!

Give Fatima a drink from it, too. I am sure her fever will disappear in no

time.’

Ravi was astounded. Magic pitcher? Healing water? What was Karim

going on about? Nonetheless he passed the pot to Fatima. She drank a bit,

then sat down to rest. Within minutes she lifted her head and said, ‘It is true,

brothers! I am indeed cured of the fever!’

Soon the news spread in the village like wildfire. Ravi, the quiet, kind

grocery storekeeper, was now the owner of a magic pitcher, the waters from

which could heal anyone of any disease. Every night Ravi left the pitcher in

the store, and in the morning it would be filled to the brim with sweet, cool

water. Daily, a queue of sick people and their relatives collected in front of his

shop. To each one Ravi gave a drink of the water, and they went away saying

they were now better. The pot was never empty. Ravi realized the old man he

had helped must have given him this gift in gratitude. Ravi understood what a

great gift it was and thanked him daily in his mind.

Soon his little store turned into a hospital. Ravi did not charge a paisa for

the water. People would leave some money, some gifts for him, and others did

not pay him anything but he was still happy with that.

One day, a rich landlord’s servant appeared at his doorstep and said, ‘My

master is unwell. Come with me and give him a drink of your water.’

Ravi replied, ‘See the crowd of people behind you, waiting for their turn.

How can I leave without helping them and go to your master? Do you think

these sick people can stand in the sun for long? Tell your master to come to

me instead and I will give him the water here.’

The servant said, ‘Ravi, what will you get by helping these poor people? A

few rupees? Some rice and dal? Come to my master’s house. He will shower

you with money and gifts. Your worries about making ends meet will be over

for at least a month.’

Ravi was tempted. It was true, why not cure one rich man and get some

help in buying his daily needs? Ravi told the people waiting outside to come

back the next day and went with the servant to the landlord.

Slowly, in this way, Ravi changed. Where once he could not bear to see the

pain and sadness of the sick and poor people, he now started each day hoping

he would get one rich patient at least, who would pay him handsomely.

Days passed thus. Seasons changed and it was summer once more. Ravi

was in his old store, writing up his accounts, when the voice of an old man

quavered in his ear, ‘Son, water!’

Startled, he looked up. Was it the same old man who had given him the gift

of the magic pitcher? But right behind the visitor was none other than the

king’s messenger. ‘Come quickly!’ the messenger shouted. ‘The queen has

been bitten by a mosquito!’

‘Water!’ the old man repeated.

‘The queen is unwell!’ the messenger shouted again.

Ravi looked from one to the other. One was a grubby old man who may or

may not be the same person who gave him the pitcher. On the other side a

messenger from the king himself! He pictured the gold coins showering down

on him once his healing water soothed the queen’s mosquito bites. The choice

was clear.

He picked up his pitcher and said to the stranger, ‘Wait right here, Uncle,

I’ll be back soon.’

The king’s swift-footed horses took him to the palace. There he rushed to

the queen who was staring in dismay at the mosquito bites on her arm. He tilted the pitcher to pour some water into a tumbler, but nothing came! Again

and again he tilted the pitcher. He turned it upside down and stared into its

depths. It was dry as a bone.

‘You cheat!’ the king roared. ‘So this is how you have been fooling the

people of my kingdom! Get out, and never let me hear that you have acquired

magical healing powers. If you claim such a thing again I will banish you

forever from the village.’ Then he turned to comfort his queen who was

splashing tears on the bump on her arm.

Ravi slowly walked back to his village. He went to his shop. No one was

there. He searched for the old man who had asked for water. He was nowhere

to be seen. He called out, ‘Uncle, I am sorry. I made a mistake. Please do

come. I will give you water.’ But there was no reply. Now he realized this was

the same old man whom he met a year back.

He remembered the people he had healed once out of kindness and

compassion and how much they had blessed and loved him in return. He

remembered their little acts of generosity, sparing him a few coins, a bundle

of vegetables from their garden in return for the water. When did he become

so selfish and greedy that he would neglect the people who had needed him

the most? The old man had taken back his powers when he sensed Ravi had

misused the gift.

Never mind, Ravi smiled to himself. He would use the money he had

received for the water to help bring a real doctor to the village, someone who

would help the people with his knowledge of medicines and diseases, so that

they need not wait for a magician to cure them of their illnesses.

From that day onwards Ravi filled his pitcher with ordinary water from the

stream and carried it back carefully to his little store and waited for the old

man. Maybe one day he would be back, but till then, Ravi was determined to

bring a real medicine man to his village.

Ajji finished her story and looked around at the four little faces around her.

Raghu was deep in thought. Ajji smiled at him. Then the children shouted,

‘Ajji, tell one more story!’

‘Ah ha,’ Ajji said, ‘too many stories a day are not good either. One laddoo is

very sweet, very delicious but if you eat laddoos all the time it’s no fun. Go and play outside. Tomorrow I will tell you another story.’ With that she got up

and went to the kitchen to supervise the dinner.

Kavery and the Thief

The children had gone with their Ajja to the paddy fields that morning. They

were all city kids and did not know a thing about farming! On the way, Anand

was surprised to see a bird’s nest on top of the tree. He said to Ajja, ‘I wonder

how birds decide where and how to make their nests!’ Ajja said, ‘The straw in

the nest is from the paddy field. Do you know, farming helps human beings as

well as birds?’ Krishna replied, ‘Ajja, I thought wheat and rice can be just

plucked from trees, like mangoes. But today I realized there is so much work

in farming.’

That afternoon, after lunch, when they gathered around Ajji for the day’s

story, she looked sharply at the children. They had enjoyed learning about

farming activities like cleaning seeds and separating the straw from paddy. In

the city everything came from the supermarket, but here they had seen how

things were really produced.

Ajji said, ‘Farming is very important. If farmers do not grow any food,

what will we all eat?’

Anand said thoughtfully, ‘If farmers do such important work, why are they

so poor?’

‘That’s true, my dear,’ Ajji sighed, fanning herself. ‘Of course there are rich

farmers too, people who own lots of land. But many in our country till small

pieces of land, and so make less money.’

Then seeing the kids’ crestfallen faces, she put down her fan, sat up and

said, ‘But I can tell you of a poor farmer woman who did not remain very

poor. All due to her sharp wit!’

‘Tell Ajji! Do tell!’ the kids yelled. So Ajji started her story.

Kavery’s lazy husband annoyed her no end. There she was working like a

donkey in the fields, ploughing and watering and tending a hard, dry piece of

land, while her husband snored away happily at home! Why, once when a

stranger came asking for some food and water, he just pointed towards the

kitchen and went back to sleep. The stranger, thankfully, was an honest man

and took only enough for himself and his horse. Not that there was much to

steal in Kavery’s little house. They were poor farmers with only a patch of

land where nothing seemed to grow. Somehow Kavery tilled the land, did

some odd jobs in the neighbourhood, and made ends meet.

The land was right next to a temple. On some days her husband would

come along with her on the pretext of helping her, but no sooner would her

back be turned than she would find him stretched out near the temple

courtyard gossiping with passing villagers.

One day, as she was working in the field, trying to dig up the ground so she

could sow some seeds, a thin man with a big moustache appeared beside her.

He was a thief, and up to no good. Kavery, of course, did not know this. She

greeted him politely and went back to her work. Now the thief wanted to steal

the coins that were given as offerings in the temple and perhaps even the

ornaments on the idol. The only way into the temple was by digging his way

in from Kavery’s land. But how could he do anything there, with this tough,

no-nonsense woman working away?

Guessing Kavery was hard up for money, he whispered to her, ‘Sister, why

are you working so hard on this barren land? I will give you one thousand

rupees, sell it to me.’

Kavery raised her eyebrows; why did he want to buy the land for so much

money? Surely something was wrong . . .

The thief sensed she was not about to sell it to him, so he raised his price:

‘A thousand and fifty? No? Two thousand? No again? FIVE THOUSAND?

No?’

Kavery kept shaking her head. She did not like this odd-looking man who

was offering her so much money for the field. Clearly he had some evil plans.

Finally, to keep him quiet, she made up a story. ‘I will never sell this land.

You see, it belonged to my ancestors. Now we are poor, but I am told that

once our family was very rich. Though we lost a lot of our money, much of it was also buried here, in this field by one ancestor, to keep it safe from

robbers. Then people forgot about it for years and years. My husband found a

clue to the location of the hidden treasure just a few days back. Why do you

think I am digging this hard earth? Not to sow seeds, oh no, that’s just what

everyone thinks. I am actually looking for hidden treasure!’

The thief was stunned. He felt this woman was really innocent, giving such

important information to a stranger. He thought, why should I not take

advantage of this situation? Here he was, hoping to steal a few coins from the

temple, and this woman was telling him about hidden treasure! He replied in a

very humble way, ‘Yes sister, I understand; after all it is your family treasure.

Only you should get it.’ He pretended to walk away, and went and hid himself

a little way down the road.

Night fell; Kavery packed up her tools and headed home. The temple, too,

emptied out and the priest locked it up for the night. Then at midnight, when

all was quiet and the night creatures were coming out of their homes, the thief

crept into the field.

All night he dug and dug, looking for treasure, but of course there was no

sign of it as there never had been any treasure to begin with! By the time

dawn broke he realized Kavery had made a fool of him and all he could do

now was get away from the field fast.

When Kavery reached the field she grinned to herself. Just as she had

expected, the thief had spent the night digging up the land nicely for her. All

she needed to do now was sow the seeds. She worked hard in the field for the

next few months and managed to grow a good crop. She sold those and finally

they had some money. With a part of this money Kavery bought some

jewellery.

Many months later, the thief decided to show his face in the village again.

He was careful to disguise himself, though. He trimmed his long moustaches,

tied a colourful turban and pretended to be a travelling salesman. No sooner

had he stepped into the village than he saw Kavery going about her work. But

what is this . . . Instead of the simple, unadorned lady he saw last year, she

was now wearing jewellery which looked as though it had been in the family

for years! Surely she must have located that missing treasure finally! He was

determined to look in her house and find the rest of her money and treasure.

That night, he appeared at Kavery’s house and said to her husband, ‘I am a

traveller and don’t have a place to spend the night. Please give me shelter for

the night.’

Kavery’s husband agreed immediately. Kavery, however, glimpsed the man

from inside the house and saw through his disguise. She knew he must be

planning some robbery, so she said in a loud voice, making sure the visitor

heard her, ‘Oh dear, your dear aunt is all alone at night and has asked us to

come stay with her. You know how the dark scares her when your uncle is not

there. Come, let us go there for the night.’ Then lowering her voice a bit, yet

making sure she was heard clearly, she continued, ‘Don’t worry about the

jewels. I have hidden them in little holes in the house walls. No one will

suspect the hiding spot.’ Then she came out and in her normal voice told the

thief, ‘Brother, you can sleep in the veranda. The house will be locked. Here

is some food and water for you. We will come tomorrow morning.’ The thief

smiled to himself at Kavery’s foolishness.

Her husband, meanwhile, stared at her with an open mouth, wondering

which aunt and what jewels she was talking about. When she firmly walked

off, he followed obediently.

The thief could not believe his luck. He had the entire night to comb

through the house, tap all the walls and look for the hidden stash of gold

ornaments. So he started. Tap tap tap. Kick, punch and shove. He prowled and

he tapped, he kicked and he pushed the walls, hoping to spot the jewels.

Finally he tore down all the walls. But, of course, there was nothing he could

find. Exhausted he fell asleep and woke only with the crowing of the c**k as

the sun rose. Quickly he found his little bundle of things and ran off. Within

minutes Kavery and her husband returned.

‘Oh Kavery, see what the bad man has done to our house! You gave him

food and shelter and made me come with you leaving the man alone in the

night,’ her husband wailed. But Kavery was smiling! Then she broke into peals of laughter and said, ‘Don’t worry. I had planned this all along. You see,

I saved money from our last crop to rebuild the house. I needed to call in

some labourers to help tear it down, but our guest has done it for us! Now we

can make a larger house for ourselves, just the way we always wanted.’

The whole village heard the story and started marvelling at her intelligence.

Many months flew by. The thief was burning to take revenge. How dare that

village woman trick him, that too not once but twice! He realized that she was

very clever.

One day, he dressed up as a bangle seller and started wandering in the

village. Kavery spotted him and knew who he was at once. She said to her

friends who were crowding around the bangle seller, ‘Oh dear, I would have

loved to get some for myself. But ever since that good-for-nothing thief tried

to steal all our money by tearing down our house, I have hidden everything in

a little hole in a tree in the woods.’

‘Which tree?’ her friends asked.

‘Oh no, I am not saying which tree, but it is at last safe and sound out in the

forest.’

The thief looked at her. Yes Kavery was wearing an ordinary sari with no

ornaments at all.

Her friends turned around in astonishment at the crash with which the

bangle seller flung down his collection of bangles and made off for the forest.

Only Kavery watched with a grin on her face.

Out in the forest, the thief searched high and low for the jewels. He

climbed trees, poked around in bushes, got bitten, scratched and growled at,

but he would not give up. The jewels were there somewhere and he had to

find them.

So that is where we will leave him, prowling around in the forest, looking

for money and gold that don’t belong to him. Everyone praised Kavery for

her quick wit in ridding the village of the thief. She continued to work hard

and made more money from her farming and became a rich old lady. Even her

husband was shamed into giving up his lazy ways and helping her. As for the

thief, who knows, perhaps he is still in that forest, looking for what was never

his. Now if only he had learnt to work hard like Kavery—he would have been

as rich!

The children laughed and laughed when the story was over. ‘The poor thief!’

Meenu and Krishna giggled. ‘Maybe he got eaten by a tiger!’

Ajji grinned. ‘See,’she told Anand, ‘sometimes with a bit of luck and lots

of pluck, people can change any situation in which they find themselves!’

Who Was the Happiest of Them All?

Meenu was upset. She pouted and sulked and would not talk to Ajji. But

how can any child be angry with Ajji for very long? Their grandmother was

just too loving and affectionate for anyone to not tell her what was wrong.

‘Ajji, it’s been three days, and you have not told a story about a king yet!’

Meenu grumbled.

Ajji nodded. ‘It’s true, Meenu. That was my fault; I should have told you a

story about a king right away!’

‘And I want a good, nice king, who does good, nice things for his people—

not horrible things like punishing them and jailing them,’ Meenu sat straight

and demanded.

‘All right, dear. Here’s a king, just as you wanted . . .’

And Ajji began her story.

King Amrit loved his people and looked after the affairs of his kingdom well.

His minister, Chandan, was a wise man who helped the king in his work

tirelessly.

One day, King Amrit and Chandan were taking a walk on the terrace of the

palace. The terrace offered beautiful views of the surroundings, and they

could see far into the distance. They spotted the weekly market from up there,

with people in colourful clothes buying and selling all kinds of things. There

was plenty to buy and people had money to buy, too. There were no poor

people to be seen anywhere. The king watched with a smile on his face. He was delighted to see the prosperity of his kingdom. Like any good ruler he

was happy when his people were happy.

He turned to Chandan and said, ‘See how contented my people are. But I

want to check this first-hand by talking to them. Tomorrow, summon people

from all walks of life to the court, and I will ask them myself how they are

doing.’ Chandan was used to the king’s strange requests, so he nodded and

went off to carry out this order.

The next day, the king arrived in court humming a happy tune to himself.

Seeing all the people gathered there waiting for him, he was even more

pleased. He cleared his throat and said in a loud voice, ‘I have called you here

to ask you a very important question. As your king, I need to know if all of

you are contented. Do you have enough for your needs? Do you know anyone

who is not happy about anything?’

The citizens looked at each other, thought for a while and slowly one by

one they came forward to answer. One after the other they all said how happy

they were their kitchens had enough food, their trades and businesses.....

To be continued.........