SUDHA MURTY GRANDMA BAGS OF STORIES

Episode 3

Ramu smiled and hugged his wife. ‘We’ll go back to our village, and to our

old ways. We will work hard like we did once, and we will help everyone

around us. Maybe that will make Lakshmi come back to us one day. And even

if she doesn’t, we will try and be happy with what we have.’

So Ramu and his family went back to their old home. And do you know

what? They did live happily ever after!

The gods watched what was happening with Ramu and Rani from the heavens

as Lakshmi entered and then left their house. They had to agree with her—if

the people of the house she entered became nasty, then what could she do

except leave, and hope they saw the error of their ways?

The Donkey and the Stick

Ajji was on an outing with her daughter and daughter-in-law, Sumati and

Subhadra. One lived in Bangalore and the other in Mumbai. They were

returning the next day as they had used up all the leaves their offices had

given. The children would remain at Shiggaon though, with their

grandparents. Everyone was looking forward to this stage of the holidays. The

children because there would be no parents telling them what to do, to Ajji’s

delicious food and to fun outings with Ajja. The grandparents, too, were

looking forward to having the children to themselves. The rest of the year it

was only the two of them in the house.

As Ajji walked with the two younger women, they talked about how

difficult it was for them to manage their office work and the children. Ajji

listened silently. Then Sumati said, ‘But they are so good when they are with

you, Amma. How do you manage them so well?’ Subhadra nodded. ‘I have

read so many books and articles to find out about this, but nothing works the

way it is written in books.’

Now Ajji said, ‘Do not always go by what you read in books. Learn to use

your life’s experiences, read between the lines.’ Then she grinned and said,

‘Otherwise you will become like the people in the story about the donkey and

the stick!’

Sumati and Subhadra forgot they were at the temple and clamoured

together, ‘What is this story? Tell us!’ Ajji shook her head. ‘Now you are

behaving like children. But you are my children after all. All right, come join

us at night when I tell today’s story.’

That night the two mothers were the first to appear to listen to the stories.

The children were surprised to see their mums, and Ajji started her story.

Aruna Marg was a busy road. It connected a number of villages to each other

and many people, animals and carts used it every day. Walking along that

road, a group of students discovered a rock which no one had bothered to look

at in many years. ‘Look!’ they told each other in excitement, ‘there is

something written on the rock. What can it mean?’

They called out to their teacher. When they examined the rock carefully,

they found the markings were actually little drawings. One showed a stick,

and the other a donkey.

By now a large crowd had gathered. Everyone was puzzled. What could

these strange drawings mean, they asked, scratching their heads. They

decided to go to the ashram of a wise sage nearby and ask him. But when they

trooped into the ashram, they found to their disappointment that the sage had

gone on a long pilgrimage. Only his young disciple was there, looking after

the cows and calves.

They asked the disciple if he could throw some light on the strange

drawings. Now this young man was not very bright. But like many foolish

people he loved to put on an air of learning and pretend to be very clever. He

examined the drawings carefully and minutely. Then he proclaimed, ‘It is

very simple. This is the drawing of a magic stick. The man with the stick is

the hero of this place. He died protecting this village centuries back. Each

person using this road must worship the rock and make an offering to it. The

one who ignores it will become a donkey!’

The villagers were astonished to hear this strange explanation. But they

were devout people and on that very day they set up a shrine around the rock.

They installed the foolish disciple as head priest in charge of taking offerings

from passing travellers. The disciple was pleased with his brainwave. Of

course he did not know what the silly drawings meant, but he no longer had to

run after calves and get kicked by angry cows in the ashram! He could sit by

the rock the whole day, taking his pick of the offerings to the rock and mutter

a few mumbo-jumbo prayers.

His happiness lasted a few months—till the wise old sage returned to the

ashram. The old sage was annoyed to find his disciple missing and his

beloved animals roaming around, uncared for. Then he looked into the

distance and saw a large crowd gathered by the road. He went to investigate,

and found his missing disciple there, looking happy and well fed, busy

accepting offerings for a rock. He stood watching for a while. Then he walked

up to the rock and closely examined the pictures. Without saying a word, he

picked up a stout iron rod and, to the astonishment of the gathered crowd,

started moving the rock. Many came forward to help him and when they had

been able to move the rock, they found a pot of gold under it!

The sage said to the people gathered around him: ‘The pictures meant you

had to move the rock with an iron rod and find the hidden money. If you

didn’t, you were all like donkeys. You should not follow rituals and the words

of others blindly. Think for yourselves and understand why you are doing

what you do. If you had given this some thought, you would have recovered

this treasure many months ago. Instead, you wasted your time and money

making offerings to a rock and helping this greedy disciple of mine become

fat and make fools of you. This treasure belongs to all of us. Let’s use it to

keep this road in good repair so everyone can use it and go about their work

in peace.’

The villagers hung their heads in shame for they realized how foolish they

had been. As for the disciple, he had to clean the cowsheds for many months

to atone for his greed.

‘What’s in It for Me?’

Ajja told Anand, ‘Will you go fetch my clothes from the dhobi?’ Anand was

reading a book, and said without looking up, ‘Then what will you give me?’

Ajja smiled and said, ‘I will give you nothing. Why should I give you

anything? You are a part of the family.’ Anand looked up now. ‘Oh! But that

is not true in our house,’ he declared. ‘Whenever my dad tells me to do some

work, I ask for a reward and he gives it to me.’ Ajja was surprised. ‘Let me

talk to your father. The joy of helping someone itself is a reward. This is not

right.’

‘Dad is a big officer in a bank. Can he make mistakes?’ asked Krishna with

great surprise.

‘He may be an officer in the bank but at home he is your father and my son,

and I will talk to him. If you go on like this you will become like “Mushika”.’

‘What’s a “Mushika”?’ asked Sharan.

Ajja looked around. There was no sign of Ajji. Probably churning out some

last-minute masala powder for the mothers to take back with them. He looked

pleased. ‘Today I will tell you a story. Of a Mushika and what happens if you

want to be paid for every little thing.’

Mushika the mouse walked jauntily down the road, whistling a happy tune to

himself. There had been a storm earlier in the day which had got rid of the

summer heat. He had just eaten a big, juicy mango that had fallen in the

storm, so his tummy was full and he was as pleased as Punch. On the road, he saw a twig, also fallen from the tree above in the storm. Now a mouse will

store and keep anything, hoping it will be of use one day. So Mushika picked

up the twig in his mouth and set off.

A little ahead he met a potter. The potter was sitting with his head in his

hands. Why? Because his oven had been drenched in the rain and now he did

not have enough dry wood to light it again. How would he bake his pots and

sell them?

As the potter sat wailing in front of his house, Mushika walked up and

watched him for some time. ‘Wossh up, brother?’ he asked with the twig still

clutched in his mouth.

At first the potter paid no attention to the strange talking mouse. Then

when Mushika asked him again and again, he told the little creature why he

was crying. Mushika nodded, kept the twig aside and said, ‘See, this twig has

dried in the wind and can be used to light your kiln. I’ll happily give it you,

Brother Potter, but what’s in it for me?’

The potter thought hard and, deciding that a little mouse could not ask for

much, said, ‘I will give whatever you ask for.’

In a flash Mushika replied, ‘Then give me that large pumpkin that is lying

in the corner of the room.’

The potter was astonished—how can a mouse carry a pumpkin? Besides,

he had been looking forward to the lovely pumpkin curry his wife would

make for him that night. ‘Choose something else, little mouse,’ he urged. But

Mushika was stubborn—the pumpkin for the twig or nothing.

So the potter gave Mushika the pumpkin. The mouse was delighted. He had

made a mighty human do what he wanted! He left the pumpkin near the

potter’s house saying he would collect it soon and set off down the road

again.

Further ahead, a milkman was sitting by his cows, shaking his head.

‘What’s up, Brother Milkman?’ asked a tiny voice. To his astonishment the

man saw a mouse with bright eyes peeping up at him.

Sadly he shook his head some more, then said, ‘The storm scared my cows

and they are refusing to give me milk. What will I sell today and what will my

family eat?’

‘Spicy pumpkin curry—if you want!’

‘Surely you are joking, my friend. I have ten people at home. Where will I

get a pumpkin large enough to feed everyone?’

‘Just walk back the way I came. You will reach a potter’s house. Right

beside that I have left a pumpkin. That’s mine, and you can have it. But

what’s in it for me, Brother?’

The milkman shrugged and said, ‘Whatever you want.’ Like the potter he

thought, what can a mouse want?

Mushika said, ‘Then give me a cow.’

‘Are you mad? A pumpkin for a cow? Whoever has heard such a thing?’

‘It’s that or nothing, my friend,’ replied Mushika firmly. So the milkman

went and got the large pumpkin and gave one cow to the mouse.

A big cow with large horns that listened to what he commanded! Mushika

the mouse could not believe his luck. Off he went, seated on the cow,

whistling another happy tune, when he stopped in front of a marriage hall.

Why were people standing around looking sad and worried? They should be

busy preparing for the marriage feast! Even the bride and groom were

standing, with long faces.

‘What’s up, Brother Groom?’ called Mushika, sitting atop his cow.

The groom replied gloomily, ‘There’s no milk to prepare the wedding

kheer. How will the wedding feast be complete without the dessert?’

Mushika grinned. ‘Worry not. Here, take this cow, she is now happy and

will give you milk. But what’s in it for me, Brother?’

The groom was very happy and said, ‘Why, you can have whatever you

want! You can eat your fill of the feast—sweets, pulao, fruits, whatever your

heart desires.’ The mouse kept quiet and gave the cow to the wedding party.

They milked the cow and had plenty of milk. There was a great wedding

feast. After the party was over, the mouse replied in a flash, ‘Give me your

bride!’

The groom and everyone in the marriage party were astonished at the

mouse’s cheek. The groom was about to give him a good whack, when his

newly wedded bride stopped him. ‘You had given him your word that he

could have whatever he wants. Let me go with him. I’ll teach him such a

lesson that he will never try to carry off another human bride again!’

Her husband agreed, so off she went with the mouse.

Mushika scampered ahead, eager to show the bride his home. But what was

this, why was she walking so slowly?

‘Hurry up, Bride,’ he called. ‘It’s about to rain again.’

The bride replied, ‘I am a human, I can’t run as fast as you.’

So Mushika had to slow down. By the time they reached his home, which

was a little hole under a tree, he was very hungry.

‘Cook me a nice meal with lots of grain,’ he commanded.

The bride nodded and said, ‘Of course, but where is the kitchen, the spices,

the oil and the vessels? I am a human after all. I can’t cook only grains.’

The mouse realized he was in a real fix having got this useless human back

with him. ‘Never mind,’ he sighed. ‘At least come inside the house.’

‘Oh, but how will I do that?’ wailed the bride. ‘I cannot set even a toe

inside that hole, it is so small. Where will I sleep tonight?’

‘Err, how about under that tree?’ Mushika suggested, pointing to another

big tree nearby.

‘No way,’sniffed the bride. ‘It will rain and I will get wet and I will catch a

cold, then a fever, and I will need a doctor, who will give me bitter medicines

. . .’ Now she started wailing even louder.

‘Shush shush,’ Mushika comforted her, thinking he should have agreed to

eat his fill of the wedding feast instead of bringing this strange whiny woman

back home with him. ‘How about you stay in that temple veranda for the

night?’ he suggested, pointing to a big temple across the road.

‘Oh, but thieves and robbers will come there, and try to snatch away my

lovely jewels,’ cried the woman. Then suddenly she dried her tears and said,

‘What if I call my friends Ram and Shyam to protect me?’

Before Mushika could say anything, she whistled loudly and called, ‘Ramu,

Shyamu!’

From nowhere a big dog and cat appeared next to her and made as if to eat

up Mushika. Oh, how he ran and saved his life by jumping into the safety of

his hole.

The bride grinned and went back to her wedding feast with her faithful

pets. As for Mushika, he had to go to sleep on an empty stomach that night.

‘Tomorrow,’ he sighed, ‘perhaps there will be another storm,’ and went off to

sleep.

The Princess’s New Clothes

After their mothers went back, Ajji took all the children on a shopping spree.

They went to the biggest clothes store in the town. Ajji had filled her purse

with notes and told all the seven children, ‘Each of you can buy one dress. It

is our gift to you. Remember, I have Rs 500 for each of you to buy one dress.’

At the store she chose a nice comfortable chair. The children were allowed

to decide which clothes they wanted and in which colour. They could go into

the trial room and try them out before buying. After an hour, everybody had

whatever they wanted, except Krishna. She had tried on many many dresses

but found fault with all of them. She told Ajii, ‘This store does not have

anything nice for me. Shall we go to another one?’

‘What is wrong with this one? It is a well-known store,’ Ajji remarked. But

Krishna pouted and complained that she already had the colours and cuts

available here, so everyone trooped off to the next shop. There, too, after a lot

of thought, finally, Krishna chose her dress. Ajji had been watching all this

with her typical soft smile. On the way back, as they piled into the taxi, she

whispered to Krishna, ‘It’s good you chose a dress finally. But beware, or else

you may turn out to be like that princess . . .’

‘Which princess, Ajji?’ the children asked.

‘The one in the story.’ Ajji was now looking out of the window.

‘Tell us, oh tell us!’

So Ajji told them the story of the princess who never liked any of her

clothes.

The king and queen of Ullas were very sad. No one was attacking them, the

subjects were happy, the farmers had grown a bumper crop . . . then why were

they so sad? Because they longed for a child and did not have one.

One day, they learnt of a place in the forests in the kingdom, where if you

prayed hard and well, you were granted your wish. They went there and for

many days prayed to the goddess of the forest. Finally their prayers were

heard and the goddess appeared before them and asked what they wished for.

The king and queen bowed low and said, ‘We wish to have a child.’

‘So be it, you will soon have a little girl,’said the goddess, shimmering in

the greenery. ‘But remember, though she will be a loving child, she will have

one flaw. She will love new clothes too much and it will make life difficult for

you. Do you still want such a child?’

The king and queen wanted a baby so much they would have agreed to

anything. So the goddess granted them their wish and vanished back among

the trees.

Soon, as had been said, the queen gave birth to a lovely baby girl. Oh, what

a beauty the little thing was, with her jet-black hair and thick eyelashes and

long toes and fingers. They named her Beena. The kingdom rejoiced in their

king’s happiness and for a while there was complete joy everywhere.

Beena grew up a child loved by everyone. She became prettier by the day,

and with her charming manners and ready laughter, she filled everyone’s

hearts with joy. But, as the goddess had said, she did have one flaw—she

loved new clothes! She loved clothes so much she had to have a new outfit

every day. She would refuse to wear the same clothes twice! Tailors from all

over the kingdom and even outside created beautiful, extraordinary clothes for

her. Silk, cotton, wool, you name it, and Beena had a dress or sari of that

material. Blues, greens, reds, pinks, every colour in nature was present in her

wardrobe.

For a while the king and queen were happy to let her have new clothes

every day. But soon they realized they were spending all their money and

time in finding new tailors and clothes for their daughter! This had to stop.

They coaxed and cajoled and pleaded and scolded, but Beena remained

unmoved. Her parents understood this was the flaw the goddess had warned

them about, and finally decided to send Beena to the goddess to find a

solution.

Beena entered the dark, green forest and waited for the goddess to appear.

She came in a flash of green light, which lit up everything around her. Folding her hands, Beena told the goddess why she had come.

‘I know your problem, my child. I will send you a new outfit every day. It

will be unique, its colours and design will delight you. But you should

remember one thing: you cannot wear anything else, or exchange these

clothes with anyone else. If you ever do that, your life will be miserable.’

Happily Beena agreed to this. After all, why would she be unhappy if she

got a new dress every day?

From then on, Beena woke up each morning to find an extraordinary new

sari or dress lying by her bed, ready to be worn. It was a dream come true for

her! She enjoyed herself no end, choosing matching earrings and bangles and

shoes, and everyone kept telling her how pretty she looked.

Yet after some months the excitement died down. No one remarked when

Beena sashayed in wearing another fantastic dress. ‘Oh, it’s the goddess’s

gift,’ they all said. ‘It’s not something you or I can ever have,’ all her friends

said and shrugged and went their way.

Beena grew sad. Then one festival day, while walking near the river, she

noticed a girl wearing a simple cotton sari. There was something about the

way the girl walked and how attractive she looked which made everyone turn

and stare. Beena noticed how the people were admiring the girl. She became

jealous because no one noticed her beautiful clothes any longer, yet they had

such praise for this simply dressed girl. She forgot all about the goddess’s

warning and went up to the girl and said, ‘Will you take my dress and give me

your sari in return? It is so lovely that people can’t take their eyes off it.’

The girl was astonished. The famous Princess Beena was offering to take

her sari, and was giving her a marvellous outfit in exchange! She could not

believe her luck and happily gave her sari to Beena. She then wore Beena’s

dress and went away. No sooner had Beena worn the girl’s sari than there was

a flash and a bang. Her surroundings changed, and she found herself

transported deep inside the forest, in front of the goddess.

‘Beena,’ the goddess called. ‘I had told you that you cannot give away or

exchange the clothes I gave you. But you have done just that! I am afraid

there is a punishment for not listening to me. I will have to take you away

from the world of humans forever.’

Beena looked down in sadness. She thought of her parents’ tear-stained

faces, the grief of the people in her kingdom who had loved her dearly. Then

she spoke aloud, ‘I will go away, but do grant me one last wish. Turn me into

something that will remind everyone about their beloved princess, something

they may even find useful.’

The goddess smiled and turned Beena into a plant. Do you know what plant

Beena became? An onion! Have you noticed how the onion has so many

layers? Those are all the dresses that Beena once wore. And have you noticed

your mother’s eyes water while she cuts onions? That is because unknown to

ourselves, like all the people in Beena’s kingdom, we still shed tears the

beautiful, kind-hearted princess!

After listening to this story, Krishna wailed, ‘Ajji, I don’t want to be like

Beena. I don’t want to get turned into an onion! I promise not to fuss over my

clothes from now on!’

The Story of Paan

Vishnu Kaka had invited the entire family for dinner. It was a lavish meal

with many courses. Everyone ate their fill, enjoying each dish. After it was

over, the children gathered around Kaka as he brought out his big box of

paan. They loved watching Kaka choose and mix his ingredients to make

delicious paans which the grown-ups then ate with blissful looks on their

faces.

He explained to the children, ‘A paan contains betel leaf, betel nut and

lime. But we should use only so much of each ingredient. Only then will it

taste good.’ All seven children wanted to try this experiment on their own.

Some of them chewed on only the leaf, some on the nut, and others on the nut

and leaf, or the leaf and only lime. It was true, when the three were not put

together, the paan tasted horrible! In fact, Sharan vomited when he added

more lime than necessary! Everyone made a beeline for the mirror to check if

their tongues were red or not.

Ajji was sitting and chatting with Sharan’s mom and watching their antics.

Then she called out to them and said, ‘Children, by this time you must all

know that the leaf, nut or lime on their own taste very bad. Even if you put

just two together it is no good. Only when you add the three in a perfect

combination can a paan be eaten. And that’s when you get that red colour in

the mouth!’

‘Why is that, Ajji? Is there any special meaning?’

‘Yes there is a special meaning and I’ll tell you the story, which I first heard

from my grandmother.’

Once upon a time, there were two brothers, Bhanu and Veer. Their parents

died when they were young and Bhanu brought up his younger brother with a

lot of love and care. When Bhanu was old enough, he married Bharati. She

was a gentle, loving person and looked after Veer with as much love as her

husband.

When Veer was about twenty years of age, he heard that their king was

looking for soldiers to join his army, as there was going to be a war. Veer

decided to join the army. Oh, how much his brother and sister-in-law cried

and pleaded, telling him to remain at home with them. They could not bear

the thought of the boy they had brought up with so much affection going so

far away from them. But Veer insisted on becoming a soldier, so they let him

go away, with a heavy heart and tears in their eyes.

For many days there was no news of Veer. The king went to war,

vanquished his enemy and returned. The soldiers who went with him also

came back home. But of Veer there was no sign. Day after day his brother and

sister-in-law watched out for him, hoping to see him come walking down the

road, back home. But there was no one. Then, one day, a group of soldiers

passed through their village, returning home from the war. Bhanu called out

to them and asked about his brother.

‘Veeru, oh yes, so sad, he died, you know, in the battlefield,’said one,

shaking his head.

‘No no. He was injured, and he recovered. Did he not come home?’said

another.

‘He was on his way home when he fell ill,’ informed a third.

On hearing these awful tidings, Bhanu was deeply saddened. He decided he

could not live at home waiting for his dear little brother to return. He would

go and look for him. When he told his wife, Bharati too decided to go with

him. Together, they set off one day to look for the missing Veer and bring him

home.

They decided to go to the site of the king’s big battle, where Veer was last

seen by his companions. This place was far away and they had to travel

through forests and valleys and mountains and deserts. The two walked and

walked, over many miles, but poor Bharati was not strong enough. One day,

after travelling through a thick forest, they reached a little hamlet. Bharati sat

down, exhausted. Then to Bhanu’s great horror she died out of sheer

exhaustion. Unable to bear his grief, Bhanu too died immediately.

Over many years at the place where the couple had died, two trees grew.

One was a tall tree and the other a creeper that hugged the tree. It was as if

Bharati and Bhanu were together even in death.

Meanwhile, Veer, the brother they had loved so deeply, was not really dead.

He had got terribly wounded in the war and spent many years recovering from

his injuries in a little village far away from home. When he finally recovered,

he came back as fast as he could to his old house, knowing how anxious his

family would be for him.

But imagine his surprise when he found the house locked and bolted,

abandoned for many years. Slowly the neighbours gathered around and told

him how Bhanu had decided to go looking for his lost brother.

That night Veer cried many bitter tears. How would he find his beloved

brother and sister-in-law now? Where were they? By the time morning

dawned he had made up his mind. He would try and go the way they had

travelled and find them. Immediately he set off.

Veer was a soldier, but he had only lately recovered from many wounds and

was not too strong. It took him many days to walk across the difficult land

Bhanu and his wife had crossed. Then one day, near a forest, he came across a

little shrine. The villagers told him the sad story of how the shrine came to be.

Years ago a couple had arrived at the spot, tired from days of walking. Legend

had it that they were on the way......

To be continued....