SUDHA MURTY GRANDMA BAGS OF STORIES

Episode 7

....... they clamoured.

But Ajji shook her head. ‘If you eat only pickles and laddoos will you be

healthy? Stories are like that. You can’t spend all your time listening to

stories. Then it will be boring. Like the unending story that a king once had to

hear.’

‘I want a story! And that’s an order!’shouted King Pratap Singh of

Mayanagar. King Pratap was only fifteen years old, and still a boy at heart. He didn’t like being a king much, because he was supposed to be doing serious

things like keeping the law, listening to his people’s problems and all kinds of

dreary things like that. The only part he liked about being a ruler was that

everyone had to obey him! How he loved giving orders and making all kinds

of demands. And what he loved the most was listening to stories! Every day,

he insisted on listening to at least ten stories. All the storytellers in his

kingdom lined up at his court. They told him funny stories, scary stories,

magical stories and anything else that came to their mind. King Pratap

listened to all with rapt attention.

He loved stories and storytellers so much that whenever he heard a good

tale he would shower the teller with gold, silver and all kinds of wonderful

presents. His ministers sighed and shook their heads and tried to explain,

‘Your Majesty, stories are all very well, but you should be listening to them

after your work is done! Your people need you to do so many things for them.

If you spend all your time wrapped up in fantasies, how will the land

prosper?’

But King Pratap paid no attention. It was stories he wanted, and stories he

would get. But how long could the people provide him with stories? Soon the

tales began to dry out. Some tried to cleverly tell him ones they had related

long back, but Pratap was sharp as a needle. ‘I’ve heard that one! Off with his

head for repeating a story!’

Oh, how his ministers had to plead with him to pardon the culprits!

Finally, disgusted with all the storytellers in his land, the king announced,

‘I want someone to tell me a story that will go on and on, till I ask him to

stop. Anyone who can do this will get half my kingdom as a prize!’

His ministers were even more horrified at this. Half the kingdom to some

woolly-headed writer and teller of stories! How horrible! They all tried to

show the king the foolishness of his ways, but he was adamant. A story that

lasted for days, even weeks, was what he wanted and that was that!

Soon a long line of men and women appeared at his court. Each one wanted

to win the big prize. But none of their stories were good enough for King

Pratap.

‘Boring!’ he shouted at some.

‘Rubbish!’ he yelled at others.

‘c**k and bull!’ he bellowed at yet others.

Meanwhile work on the kingdom’s affairs had come to a stop. All the

ministers were sitting wringing their hands and wondering how to bring back their king to solving all the important issues. Finally the chief minister, who

was wise and clever, had an idea.

The next day, a scruffy, crazy-looking man turned up at the court. His hair

was in a mess, his clothes were half torn and on his feet he wore torn shoes

from which his toes stuck out. He marched up to the palace and demanded to

be given an audience with the king. The guards sighed and let him in. They

were used to having all kinds of characters turning up at the gates wanting to

tell stories to the king.

The old man was admitted into the king’s chamber. There he made himself

comfortable, drank a huge jug of water, and without introducing himself,

started his story:

‘This story begins in a humble farmer’s field. The farmer had toiled days

and weeks and months and grown a bumper crop of sugar cane. He sold the

sugar cane to the nearby sugar factory and they made sacks and sacks of sugar

out of it. Everyone was so happy. All this sugar would be sold in the markets

and make everyone very rich! That year their children would get nice new

clothes, their stores would be full of food and their wives would be very

happy with them!

‘Now all that sugar had to be stored and kept carefully till the sacks could

be taken to the market to sell. The factory people poured the sugar into many

sacks and lugged them into a storeroom. In the storeroom who would you

find, but a colony of ants. They had decided that building their house near

such a ready supply of their favourite food was a very good idea, and were

always on the lookout for new batches of sugar to be stored there.

‘No sooner had the sacks been kept than the lines of ants marched up to

them. They found little holes to make their way in and the first ant went into

the first bag of sugar, took one sugar crystal and went back.

‘The next ant went into the bag and took a crystal and returned home.

‘Another went into the bag and took a crystal and returned home.

‘Yet another went into the bag and took a crystal and returned home . . .’

So on and on the storyteller droned. King Pratap found he had nearly dozed

off, the day had passed by and he was still listening to the same story.

‘Stop! Stop!’ he ordered. ‘I will listen to the rest of the story tomorrow.’

The next morning the old man turned up as usual and started from where he

had left off the previous day. ‘Yesterday I was telling you how the ants came

and picked up the sugar crystals. Now the next ant went towards the bag of sugar and took a crystal and went back home. Another went and took a sugar

crystal and returned home. Another ant . . .’

The story went on and on like this. Lunch and dinner passed by but nothing

new happened. By now King Pratap was bursting with rage. How dare anyone

tell him such a boring story? ‘What kind of a story is this?’ he complained.

‘What will happen next? What happened to the farmer?’

But the old man only smiled and said, ‘Have patience, Your Majesty. That

year the yield was very good and there were thousands of bags of sugar. I

have to tell you how the ants collected all the sugar.’

‘Oh stop! Stop!’ Pratap shouted. ‘Stop this boring story at once!’

The man now stood up and said, ‘Fine, if you are ordering me to stop, I

have won the prize. Give me half your kingdom!’

The king was in a dilemma now. He had announced a competition and

prize no doubt, but could he honestly give away half the kingdom to this

crazy-looking storyteller with his boring tales?

As he sat pondering, the man grinned even wider, and took off his dirty

robe, rubbed off the dirt from his face and shook back his shaggy white hair.

Everyone was astonished. Why, this was the chief minister himself!

‘Don’t worry, Your Majesty,’ the minister told his overjoyed king. ‘I did not

want half your kingdom. I only wanted to show you how you were wrong to

neglect your work and listen to stories night and day. Your people deserve a

good king, someone who will work hard to look after them; someone who

will think of his own happiness only once his people are happy. That’s what

good kings do, you know. Not just giving orders and enjoying yourself.’

Poor Pratap looked ashamed at this. Yes, he had been an extremely selfish

king. From now on, story time was only at night, after all his work was done.

So that was how the summer holidays ended. Everyone packed their bags and

reached the station. Their mothers had come to take them back home. Ajja,

Ajji, Vishnu Kaka, Damu, Rehmat Chacha—everyone had come to see them

off. No one felt like leaving Ajji’s side and Meenu kept hugging her till she

had to board the train.

Soon the train puffed out of the station. The children leaned out to wave

their goodbyes. Slowly Shiggaon got left behind. But the children would

continue to remember their Ajja and Ajji and everyone else, and all the

stories, which would remain with them forever. And they would be back,

during the next summer holidays, when they would hear so many more . . .

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First published in Puffin by Penguin Books India 2012

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Text copyright © Sudha Murty 2012

Illustration copyright © Priya Kuriyan 2015

Cover illustration by Priya Kuriyan

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THE HAPPY ENDING