SUDHA MURTY GRANDMA BAGS OF STORIES

Episode 2

.......... were

doing well, the king had made them feel safe. The farmers had grown good

crops and the rivers and ponds were full of fish. What more could they ask

for?

The king became more and more pleased as he heard this. Only Chandan,

his minister, watched and heard everything with a frown on his face. Why?

What was wrong? Soon he walked up to the king and whispered something in

his ear. King Amrit’s eyebrows rose up in astonishment. Surely, Chandan

could not be serious! But he looked at the minister’s face and found no trace

of this being a joke.

He turned back to the court and made a most unusual announcement. ‘I am

delighted that all of you have said you are happy. But I want to test this.

Tomorrow, I want all the happy people of this kingdom to come and meet me

in the royal gardens. But I have a condition. All of you will have to enter the

garden from the main gate, walk across and meet me by the gate at the rear of

the garden. I will wait for you there. When you enter the garden you will be

given a sack each and you can pick whatever fruits or flowers your heart

desires.’

An excited buzz broke out among the crowd. It sounded like a lot of fun.

No one was usually allowed to enter the king’s special garden. He had planted

trees from all over the world in that garden and it was said to be filled with all

kinds of beautiful and strange plants.

Right on time the next day, everyone gathered at the gate of the garden. At

the time the king had told them, the guards opened the gates and handed out

the sacks. Men, women and children started roaming around the beautiful

garden. They spotted juicy apples and plump mangoes hanging from trees.

They picked these till they saw ripe pomegranates bursting with juice, grapes

and colourful flowers no one had seen before. People went about picking

whatever they wished for and filling their sacks with them.

But as they walked further into the garden it became wilder, more like a

forest, and there they saw trees laden with apples of gold, mangoes of silver

and flowers studded with gems and jewels!

Everyone emptied their sacks of the fruits they had collected earlier and

started madly filling them up with these precious fruits and flowers. They all

forgot that they had said they had more than enough for their needs at home.

Greed took over, their minds and all they could think about was adding more

and more valuables to their sacks. The fruits which they had picked earlier,

and had tasted to be as sweet as nectar, now lay in heaps around the garden—

forgotten and left to rot.

Then with their sacks filled right to the top, the citizens made their way to

the rear gate of the garden where the king was waiting. But what was this? To

their astonishment they found a raging stream stopping their way. Water

gushed down from behind some rocks and rushed over pebbles and big

boulders through the garden. The stream was narrow, but the current was

strong. There were no boats to take the people across. Clearly, the only way

was to swim. But how could they swim with such heavy sacks filled with gold

and silver fruits?

The people stood by the stream for a long time scratching their heads. Then

one young man did what they all knew needed to be done. He simply

abandoned his sack by the stream, waded into the water, then swam across to

the other side. Slowly the others, too, followed suit. Sadly, some wailing in

distress, they left their sacks filled with what they had thought was the riches

of a lifetime, and dived into the stream. Then they walked up to their king—

wet, unhappy and angry.

King Amrit and Chandan watched them trudge up in their soaking clothes.

Chandan had a small smile on his lips, while the king looked sad. When they

had assembled in front of him, he said, ‘When I asked you yesterday if you

were happy with your lives, all of you said you were contented and did not

need anything more. Yet, today I can see the sadness in your faces when you

had to leave behind the riches you had gathered in my garden. If you were

really happy with your lives, why did you gather the jewel fruits, and why are

you so sad now?’

Everyone looked down, ashamed at their behaviour. Only the young man

who was the first to cross the stream after leaving his sack behind seemed to

be unconcerned. Chandan spotted his cheerful face in the crowd and

beckoned him forward. Then he asked, ‘Tell me, are you not sad you had to

leave behind so much of wealth that suddenly came your way?’

The man said, ‘I didn’t pick the jewelled fruits and flowers. I had picked

some of the lovely, tasty fruits and had eaten my fill of them. In my sack I had

kept some others for my little daughter who is at home. I had thought she

would enjoy these tasty apples and mangoes. But when I saw there was no

other way to go across the stream, I did not think twice about leaving my sack

by the river. My little girl can get tasty fruits from some other garden, too!

But I am so happy the king let us all wander around his garden, looking at the

trees and plants and animals. He is a great king for having created this place

of beauty, and it was a pleasure walking around there.’

Finally a smile appeared on King Amrit’s face. Chandan turned to him and

said, ‘Your Majesty, I hope you now realize that people’s contentment does

not end with having enough food or money. They also need to be truly happy

inside. Only then will they not be swayed when they gain or lose wealth. That

is a lesson that everyone—whether a king or a commoner—needs to

remember.’

The king nodded, as did his subjects. This was a lesson they would not

forget in a hurry!

‘Did you like the story, Meenu?’ Raghu asked.

‘Oh yes,’ Meenu nodded. ‘But I liked the minister more than the king!’

‘That’s true, Meenu,’ Ajji agreed. ‘Kings did need intelligent ministers to

show them the right path sometimes. Remember Akbar had Birbal, and

Krishnadevaraya had Tenali Rama? Why just kings, we all need someone to

tell us if what we are doing is wrong. It could be our parents, grandparents,

teachers or even our best friend. The important thing is to listen to them and

change our ways when needed.’

The Enchanted Scorpions

What an exciting morning the children had had that day! Ajja had asked for

their help in cleaning up his old storeroom. Ajja loved to keep all kinds of old

things in that room, much to Ajji’s annoyance. She firmly believed the room

was the principle attraction for all the cockroaches, mice, termites and other

such bugs in the house. Every summer holiday the children spent a day

clearing out the room, exclaiming over all the treasures they had unearthed.

Ajja even let them keep some of the odds and ends they found. That didn’t

please their mothers too much though!

Today they had found an old wooden box. It was a big box, beautifully

carved all over with flowers, and vines and leaves. Inside, it had little

compartments to keep all manner of things. Now these compartments were

empty, but Raghu, who had been reading Treasure Island, imagined that once

these were full of gold and silver coins, gems as big as eggs and all kinds of

fantastic jewels.

After examining the box thoroughly, the children decided that the day’s

story had to be about lost treasure. Ajji, who knew a story about anything

under the sun, started right away.

Siddharth was a young, good-natured merchant. Looking for work, he arrived

in a village. He liked the people of the village so much that he decided to use

all his savings, buy a house and live there forever. While searching for a

house, he met Uday.

Uday was a poor man. His family had once been extremely wealthy

landowners but were now not so well off. Uday was looking to sell his old

family mansion in order to pay off his family’s loans.

Siddharth loved the house Uday showed him and bought it immediately.

Then he set about repairing the mansion, which was in ruins. As he dug out

the old flooring, he found a sealed box buried underground. When he opened

it, to his surprise, he saw it was filled with scorpions. He flung the box away

in fright.

That evening, he went to visit the wisest man in the village and asked him

about the box of scorpions. The wise man thought for a while, then said,

‘Perhaps Uday’s ancestors hid some money in that box and buried it, to be

used when someone in the family needed the money. Over the years they

must have forgotten about the existence of the box.’

Siddharth was still puzzled. ‘But the box contained scorpions,’ he said, ‘not

money.’

The old man smiled. ‘The box is protected by an old spell. If it is opened

by anyone other than a family member, it will appear as if it is swarming with

scorpions. Only a true family member will be able to see that the box contains

money.’

Siddharth was sad to hear this story. He remembered the tears that had

sprung up in Uday’s eyes as he had looked back at his ancestral house for one

last time before leaving the village. If only he had known about the hidden

treasure, he would not have had to sell the house. When Siddharth reached

home, he decided to keep the box safely till someone from Uday’s family

came to claim it. To make sure that the box was taken only by a true

descendant of Uday’s family, he took four scorpions from the box and hung

them in four corners of his newly opened shop.

All his customers would comment when they entered the shop. ‘Siddharth,

are you mad? Why have you hung dangerous insects in your shop? Do you

want to scare away shoppers?’

Siddharth would only smile. He knew his goods were the best for miles

around, and people would come to shop at his store, scorpions or not.

Gradually the shop came to be known as the Scorpion Shop and the villagers

laughed at him behind his back. But Siddharth did not care.

Many years passed. Siddharth was now a middle-aged man with a wife and

children and enough money. But he had one regret. No one had come to claim

that box.

One day, a young boy walked into the shop and said, ‘Sir, I have heard

from many people in the village that you are wealthy and often help those in

need. I had to stop going to school because I could no longer pay my fees.

Could you please lend me some money so I can finish my studies?’

Siddharth shook his head sadly. ‘The villagers have exaggerated about my

wealth,’ he said. ‘Yes, I am earning enough, but not so much that I can help

you or lend you money, though I would have loved to do so.’

The boy flared up in anger when he heard this. ‘Sir, if you do not want to

help me, please say so openly. Why do you lie? You have so much money that

you don’t know what to do with it. Why else have you hung gold coins in the

four corners of your shop? Surely you can spare some coins to help a poor

student like me.’

Siddharth stared at him in astonishment. ‘Wh-what? What did you just

say?’ he asked, his eyes bulging in excitement.

‘I said if you don’t want to help . . .’ the boy repeated.

‘Yes, yes, I heard that,’ Siddharth cut him short. ‘But what did you say after

that, about the gold coins in my shop?’

The boy now looked at Siddharth doubtfully, afraid that perhaps this

excited old man was a bit mad. ‘I said you are so wealthy that you have hung

gold coins in the four corners of the shop. There they are, for the world to

see!’ And the boy pointed to what appeared to Siddharth as four writhing

scorpions.

Siddharth gave a happy whoop of laughter. He rushed forward and hugged

the boy.

‘Are you related to Uday Kamalakar? Did your family ever live in this

village?’ he nearly shouted into the boy’s ears.

The young man stepped back in alarm. Perhaps this rich man was mad and

dangerous after all. ‘Y-yes, my name is Uday. I was named after my

grandfather. His family lived here for many generations. Then, when they fell

on hard times, my grandfather sold his old house and moved. He never

recovered from the grief of having to sell his ancestral property and died

heartbroken.’

Siddharth wiped away the tears from his eyes. ‘Wait here, my son,’ he said.

Rushing to his house, he came back with the old box and gave it to the young

boy. ‘Go on, open it and tell me what you see,’ he chuckled.

The boy opened the box and his eyes nearly fell out of his head. For he held

in his hands more treasure than he could dream about in his wildest fantasies.

The box was filled with gold and silver coins and jewels!

He looked up in astonishment at Siddharth, who was grinning broadly.

‘Yes, it belongs to you,’ Siddharth explained. ‘I have held it safe for many

years, hoping someone from Uday’s family will come to claim it. Your

troubles are now over. Go home, use the wealth of your ancestors judiciously

and do well in life.’

Then he told the boy the story of how he had found the box which appeared

to be filled with scorpions to anyone who did not belong to Uday’s family.

Uday was amazed when he heard the story. He offered Siddharth half his

wealth in gratitude. But Siddharth would hear none of it. ‘This is yours,’ he

insisted. ‘Go, enjoy your life.’

Uday went away with the box, and all his life he remembered the funny,

honest old man who had kept his wealth safely for him.

‘How lovely, Ajji!’ Krishna gasped. ‘If only we had such a shopkeeper in this

town!’ All the children agreed that that would have been such fun. Ajji

laughed at their dreamy faces. Then she shooed them out to play in the

garden. And do you know what they played till late in the evening? Treasure hunt, of course!

The Horse Trap

The next day, there was a surprise summer shower. The land smelled

beautiful. The thirsty earth had soaked in every drop of rainwater. The

children had been very busy shifting the puppies and kittens, who were

roaming in the back and front yards, into the house so that they did not get

drenched in the rain. Their respective mothers were very busy shifting the

pappadams left to dry on the terrace. Summer is the season when, under Ajji’s

leadership, pickles and pappadams were made.

Meenu started a calculation. ‘Everyone needs at least five pappadams per

day. For the next one month 600 pappadams will be needed. Tomorrow our

neighbour Vishnu Kaka’s three grandchildren are coming. They will also eat

with us these tasty pappadams. We may have to keep five per head . . . That

means Ajji has to prepare 600 + 50 pappadams.’ When Ajji listened to

Meenu’s mathematics, she laughed and said, ‘Don’t calculate that way. It may

be true today that we will all eat five pappadams a day, but this may not be

true for every day. After eating pappadams for three days, one may get bored.

There is a wedding in my brother’s house and we all might go there. So we

may not eat any pappadam those days. The way you are calculating, reminds

me of the man who calculated the number of horses, once in England . . .’

All the children immediately gathered around her. ‘Oh Ajji, you must tell

us this story of how the horses were counted.’

So Ajji had to stop what she was doing right there and tell them the story.

Many many years ago, in England, there lived a great thinker and scholar

called George Smith. He thought a lot about how it would be in the future,

and advised the prime minister about many things. He researched how many

people would live in the country in twenty years’ time, he calculated how

many schools, hospitals and roads needed to be built, or how much food

needed to be grown or bought from other places to feed all these people.

His calculations helped the government immensely in planning for the

future.

George often needed to visit the prime minister’s office to talk to him about

some new project and advise him. One day, the prime minister had invited

him for a meeting, so he hopped into his horse carriage and set off for the

office. Now George was always deep in thought and rarely noticed what was

happening around him. Today, too, he sat in his carriage thinking about farms

and ships and houses. But suddenly his carriage stopped with a jolt and he

was shaken out of his thoughts. There was some commotion on the road and

all carriages had stopped around him. Normally George would have just sunk

back into his thoughts again, but today something stopped him. A horrible,

strong smell. A smell that hung in the air and made you cover your nose with

a hanky if you were not a scholar wrapped up in your own world.

Today, somehow, George was not able to disconnect himself from what was

going on around him. The smell kept wafting into his nose and taking his

mind away from the problem he was tackling. He called out to his coachman,

‘Hi John, what is this extraordinary smell?’

John the coachman was used to his master’s absent-minded ways, and he

replied briefly, ‘Horse dung.’

Horse dung! Now that was something George had never given a thought to.

Somehow, he could now think of nothing else. Soon his carriage pulled up in

front of the prime minister’s office. But George kept sitting inside, lost in

thought. Finally John tapped on the window to tell his master that they had

reached their destination.

George walked to the visitor’s room still thinking. He was sitting there,

reflecting on horses and their dung, when the prime minister’s secretary came

to meet him. Now Adam, the secretary, was not as learned as George, but he

was very sharp and intelligent. He greeted George and said to him

apologetically, ‘The PM had to make time for another important meeting, and

will be late in seeing you. I hope you don’t mind waiting.’

George kept staring out of the window, watching yet more horse-drawn

carriages rushing up and down the road. Thinking he had perhaps not heard

him, Adam cleared his throat and repeated loudly, ‘Mr Smith, the PM . . .’

‘Yes, I heard you, Adam,’ George mumbled.

Worried that this great thinker of the country was in some trouble, Adam

asked gingerly, ‘Is something bothering you? Perhaps I could help . . .?’

George looked at him excitedly, ‘You know, I just looked into the future

and realized we will all die in about a hundred years. Our country will be

destroyed, our way of life gone forever. And do you know why? All because

of horses . . . and their dung!’

Adam stared at George, puzzled. Surely he could not be serious?

George continued, ‘See, now we use horses as the principal mode of

transport in the country. They are used to draw carriages, in the king’s stables,

even in the farms.’

Adam nodded. This was true.

‘So how many horses are there now? Let’s assume that there are 500 rich

families who can afford to own a horse carriage. If each family has at least

two children and all of them are rich enough to own carriages, that will mean

a minimum of two more carriages in a few years. Each carriage would require

two horses. So, each rich family would be using four horses at the least. So

then there will be 2,000 horses. If you add our king’s cavalry, and the number

of horses in the farms, the numbers increase substantially.’

Adam nodded. Yes, this sounded true enough, but what was George’s

point?

‘How do we get rid of the dung they generate now?’

Adam answered patiently, ‘We dig pits and empty the dung into them.’

George nodded, ‘Now that’s my point. Imagine the scene a hundred years

from now. 2,000 horses would have increased to 400,000, given the way the

population is increasing. This will mean more dung! And what will we do

with all this dung? Humans will need more space and houses and farming to

sustain themselves. Where will we find open land to dig up and bury the

dung? It will lie unattended everywhere and cause horrible diseases. If they

make their way into the water sources it will be even worse. We will end up

poisoning ourselves and our environment. We will become sick, and our

country will become poor just by tending to so many sick people, and finally

our way of life will just die out—as we all will. All because of horses!’

Adam sat and thought about this for some time. George’s thoughts and the

grim picture he had painted of the future was scary indeed. But . . . here

Adam’s practical thinking kicked in; what if things did not work exactly the

way George was seeing it? He turned to his friend and said, ‘Mr Smith, you

are not taking into account one very important bit into your calculations—the

ability humans have to innovate and adapt. Many years ago there were no

carts or carriages, we went everywhere by foot. Then once we started

domesticating animals we realized we could use them for transport too. But

do you think humans will rest with this achievement? Who knows, in a

hundred years what other modes of transport we would have invented so that

we may not require horse for transport at all. Perhaps we will even be able to

fly like birds!’

George never solved this problem in his lifetime. Neither did Adam live to

see how true his thoughts about the future had been. Man went on to invent so

many new ways of moving from place to place that horses are no longer used

in the numbers they once were. James Watt invented the steam engine, which

led to the invention of railways. Then cars were invented by Karl F. Benz and

became widely used in cities for transport. Finally the Wright brothers

showed that humans could fly—in aeroplanes! With all these great inventions,

the horse and other animal-drawn carts and carriages are now a thing of the

past.

Truly, if man did not innovate and experiment, our species would have died

out—just like George had predicted!

Everyone was very happy this story. They all teased Meenu. ‘You are the

George Smith of our house. Who knows one day nobody will eat pappadams

and Amma may not prepare that many pappadams. We may even buy directly

from the shops if it is a small number.’

Meenu felt very embarrassed. She hid her face with a pillow. Ajji said,

‘Don’t make fun of her. Foresight is very important. If you don’t have

foresight, then you will land up in trouble like Ramu.’

‘Who is Ramu?’ the children immediately asked Ajji.

‘I will tell the story of Ramu only tomorrow.’ And Ajji bustled off. The

children knew she would tell only one story a day, so they eagerly waited for

the next day to hear Ramu’s story.

A Treasure for Ramu

Vishnu Kaka’s grandchildren had come to visit him. Vishnu Kaka was a very

good friend of Ajja’s. They had lived next door to each other for years.

Unfortunately, his wife Vasanthi Kaki had died a few years back. Though

there was a cook, his grandchildren—Sharan, Suma and Divya—always

preferred to eat in Ajji’s house, which Ajji also welcomed.

With seven hungry children to feed, Ajji realized telling a story would be a

good way to keep them quiet till the food got cooked. Ajji started the story

while peeling the cucumbers.

Did you know that sometimes even the gods in heaven can get into an

argument? That’s what happened once when Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth,

found herself cornered by all the other gods. Together, they accused her of

one thing—that she never stayed in one place for too long! ‘No sooner are

you comfortably settled in one house, do you decide to leave it, and off you

go elsewhere!’ they said to her.

Lakshmi sniffed and said, ‘That’s not true. I stay in a house as long as I am

welcome. If people think ahead, work sincerely and spend money wisely, I

stay with them forever. Unfortunately often when I am in one place for a

while, people behave strangely, and I have no choice but to leave.’

The other gods pooh-poohed this and refused to believe her. Poor Lakshmi

decided she needed to show them proof of what she had just said. Here is

what she did to show that she was correct. Remember, many human years.

make only a second in god years. So what took years to happen on earth, the

gods could see in only a few minutes.

Ramu and Rani were farmers. They worked hard in their fields and earned

enough money to feed their children and meet their other needs. They were

not rich and sometimes had to make do with fewer new clothes and not very

nice food.

One day, Rani was digging a corner of her garden in order to plant a tree.

As she dug deeper, there was a loud clang! Her shovel had hit something

metallic hidden underground. Excited, she dug faster, till she pulled out a

large metal box. When she opened it she could not believe her eyes. It was

filled with gold and silver jewels! For a while Rani stood dumbstruck. Then

she did a happy whoop and ran home with the box under her arm.

‘Ramu, Ramu, see what I found buried in our garden!’she yelled.

Ramu was writing up the accounts for the month, and for a while paid no

attention to his wife. Only when she came up to him and did a happy jig

around him did he look up. Imagine how his mouth fell open in surprise when

he saw the box of jewels.

Soon Ramu and Rani were the richest people in the village. They stopped

going to work—after all, what was the need, they told each other. Why work

in the hot sun when they had piles of money at home? They left their small

cottage and moved into the biggest house in the village. They had servants

who worked day and night doing every small job, so the two did not need to

lift even a finger. There was a cook who cooked delicious meals, a person to

serve it, another just to clean shoes and one person to even fan Ramu as he sat

on his bed the whole day and gossiped with his newfound friends.

Then Ramu decided village life was too boring and they moved to the big

city. There they had another big house, more servants and lots of fun at

various parties. Slowly they forgot the good things that had once made them a

well-loved family. They forgot to work hard, to help others in their need, or to

just be nice people. They thought that with money they could buy anything,

including respect. They behaved rudely to others. They spent more and more

money on clothes and parties, and as they did no work at all, the money

started dwindling. They started borrowing from others which they soon could

not pay back.

One day, Ramu looked sadly at his account book. It was now filled with

numbers that showed he only needed to pay others; there was hardly anything

left for himself. In a heavy voice he called out to his wife, ‘Rani dear, the

good days are over. I think we forgot to be the kind of people Goddess

Lakshmi likes. She has gone elsewhere, and we are left with nothing.’

Rani stood silently for a while, then replied, ‘Never mind, Ramu. We have

learnt our lesson. I now think of the days when I would work all day long and

go to sleep a tired person and sleep soundly. I would fall into a deep slumber

as soon as I Iay down on the bed. Now I lie awake all night, wondering which

sari to wear the next day and what to do with our money. I am too fat to even

dig, like I did when I found the treasure!’

To be continued in Part3