A.P.J. Abdul Kalam An Anecdote-3

In his childhood, Kalam was influenced by several people, one of them being Samsuddin, his first cousin. He was the sole distributor for newspapers in Rameswaram and catered to the reading needs of the 1,000-strong literate population of the town. Dr. Kalam recalls that the newspapers brought news pertaining to the national independence movement, astrology and bullion rates prevailing in Madras. Some people would discuss Hitler, Mahatma Gandhi and Jinnah as well as Periyar EV Ramaswamy. When the Second World War broke out in 1939, there was an unprecedented demand for tamarind seeds, which Kalam used to collect and sell to a local provision store. When India was forced to join the Allied Forces, there was something like a state of emergency, and its first casualty was in the form of the suspension of the train halt at Rameswaram station. Dr. Kalam recalls this much later in these words: "The newspapers now had to be bundled and thrown out from the moving train on the Rameswaram Road between Rameshwaram and Dhanuskodi. That forced Samsuddin to look for a helping hand to catch the bundles and, as if naturally, I filled the slot. Samsuddin helped me earn my first wages. Half a century later, I can still feel the surge of pride in earning my own money for the first time."

A.P.J. Abdul Kalam An Anecdote-2

In his childhood, Kalam was influenced by several people, one of them being Samsuddin, his first cousin. He was the sole distributor for newspapers in Rameswaram and catered to the reading needs of the 1,000-strong literate population of the town. Dr. Kalam recalls that the newspapers brought news pertaining to the national independence movement, astrology and bullion rates prevailing in Madras. Some people would discuss Hitler, Mahatma Gandhi and Jinnah as well as Periyar EV Ramaswamy. When the Second World War broke out in 1939, there was an unprecedented demand for tamarind seeds, which Kalam used to collect and sell to a local provision store. When India was forced to join the Allied Forces, there was something like a state of emergency, and its first casualty was in the form of the suspension of the train halt at Rameswaram station. Dr. Kalam recalls this much later in these words: "The newspapers now had to be bundled and thrown out from the moving train on the Rameswaram Road between Rameshwaram and Dhanuskodi. That forced Samsuddin to look for a helping hand to catch the bundles and, as if naturally, I filled the slot. Samsuddin helped me earn my first wages. Half a century later, I can still feel the surge of pride in earning my own money for the first time."

The Wild Friend : A Story

Shakti was on a jungle safari. Ever since his childhood, he had a great liking for the forests, as his house was located at the edge of the forest. His father was a village landlord, but he never allowed him to go into the forest. Once long back, when he had expressed his desire to go in the forest, his father had said, "I can allow you to go in the forest only when you have realized your dream."

So, he passed his childhood and adolescence looking at the forest from his fields and house. Whenever he wished to see wildlife, he was taken to the zoo in the city. The only exception was Bholu, a little bear cub, which was brought in the house by his father, a great hunter. When his father brought the bear cub in the house for the first time, he said, "I found this cub near its dead mother; I took pity on it and brought it with me, else it could have died there in the forest."

Shakti had read several stories and biographies in which experiences about the forest had been mentioned, but having a real experience was something different, so he was now in the middle of the forest; of course, only after he had realized his dream. He was now a lieutenant in the army. His military training also comprised a substantial part of jungle training, so he had practical experience of the forest, though not very elaborate.

Shakti was in the forest with his servant, Malu and had planned for a week-long safari. They had arrived just the previous day and had pitched the tent on a mound. His jeep was parked on the jungle track. The entire area was thickly covered with trees, vegetation and undergrowth. It was early in the morning. He was sitting on the folding chair cleaning his rifle. He never wanted to kill a wild animal, but you don’t know, when you might need a gun to scare away the wild animals. Malu was making tea. He had much experience of the forest as he had accompanied his father on several forest excursions.

By the time Malu brought tea, Shakti had already cleaned his rifle and kept it against the small table.

"Baba," said Malu addressing Shakti. He had been with his household for more than two decades and had seen Shakti grow from a toddler to a handsome young man. "Better load your rifle, you don’t know when you may need it. I've heard about a maneater leopard in this part of the forest."

"Yes, Kaka," said Shakti. 'Kaka' was a term of respect for the old servant. "I'll load the rifle before we start. Bring the cartridges, they are in the tent."

His military training had made him quite confident. He sat on the chair comfortably with the cup of tea in his hand. The forest was serene. He could hear some animal calls in the distance. Perhaps two groups of monkeys were fighting not very far chattering loudly.

Shakti sat lazily sipping tea while Malu was inside the tent gathering things that they needed to carry with them. Today they had planned for a ten-kilometre track on foot. And then the keen eyes of the trained military man turned to a side, in the same action, he kept down the cup and his hand moved to the rifle. The first thing a soldier does on perceiving a danger is to reach for his weapon, this was what Shakti had done precisely. He had heard the leaves rustle; he was sure there was something behind the bushes in the front. He breathed in deep; he could sense some strange smell. There is certainly a large animal around. The birds on the trees too were screaming by now. It confirmed there was a large animal around.

Shakti was now fully alerted, but his rifle was not yet loaded. He called Malu to bring cartridges. He sensed some danger somewhere very near.

As he looked around carefully, he found two eyes staring at him. It was the uninvited guest, it was the leopard. 'Is it the maneater that Malu was talking about?' this was the first question that lurked his mind. The problem with him was that his rifle was not yet loaded. He was trying to remember all the tricks that his military training had taught him how to face the enemy physically. An empty rifle was worse than a stick, he knew, so he threw it down.

Shakti was weighing his options, and Malu was yet inside the tent. Maybe he had not heard his call, so he called again, louder this time, "Bring cartridges, Kaka!"

Malu emerged from the tent carrying the whole box of cartridges. He said, "Its latch is entangled, it cannot be opened."

"There is a danger, I think we have the maneater right here," said Shakti pointing to the bushes with his glances.

"I'll bring the jungle knife," said Malu before entering the tent.

Just then the leopard sprang in the air and leapt on Shakti who had spotted it in the air. He ducked swiftly to a side; still, its paws rubbed against his back, but bruising him mildly, but it was not the time to look at his wounds. Before Shakti could turn, he found the leopard on his back. He fell face down shrieking loudly. He turned on the ground and found that the leopard was on him. He could feel the hot, stinking breath from its fearful mouth. He knew there was no rescue from the deadly paws. Death stared in his eyes.

The desire to live on reigned supreme in his mind, but the situation was terrible, he needed outside support to survive, and Malu, where was he?

The leopard looked here and there, and then opened its mouth showing its long, sharp teeth giving out an angry growl. In the leopard's open mouth, Shakti saw his opportunity to survive. Remembering the swift movement of catching snakes he was taught in his military training, he decided what he ought to do. Giving a jerk, he raised his shoulders and caught with his right hand the tongue of the beast as hard as he could and pulled it hard. The leopard was bewildered at this sudden movement; it tried to free itself with all its might, and in the process, the two rolled over and under each other.

Shakti felt that all his energy was deserting him, he was already bleeding from a couple of places. He knew he could not go on like this for long. He eyes were getting closed, he felt his hands squeezed of all energy, he knew he could not keep his consciousness for long; he was still holding on to the tongue, but not as strongly as before.

And then he saw some shadow leaping on the leopard from one side, and fell away taking it with it. Shakti was losing his senses. He thought it was Malu who had leapt upon the leopard. And then dark eclipsed his vision; he was unconscious now. He did not know what happened then. He did not know whether he was dead or alive, or whether he would die or live.

When Shakti regained his senses, he found himself lying on his cot in the tent and Malu was sitting near him, massaging his chest.

"Thank you, Malu, for saving my life," said Shakti with a feeble voice.

"Not me, Baba, I didn’t save your life, it was a bear," said Malu.

"Bear…?"

"When I came out of the tent and was thinking how to attack the leopard, a bear emerged from behind the grove," Malu narrated, "and it immediately attacked the leopard. It was so furious that the leopard was unable to face it. In a flash of a second, the bear caught it from the neck and shook it wildly. It left its neck only when the leopard fell dead. I had never seen a bear in such a frightful form."

"Then…!"

"What the bear did then is still more perplexing," said Malu. "It first ensured that the leopard was dead, and then it walked to you. You were lying senseless on the ground. I was scared that it could attack you. I was really frightened. But it walked to you, sniffed all around you, licked your face with its large red tongue, and then moved away disappearing behind the bushes."

"What…?" Shakti tried to sit up. He said in an excited tone, "I'm sure he was Bholu."

"Who…Bholu?" Malu was bewildered.

"Don’t you remember the bear cub that we had in the house?"

"O yes, that was a great friend of yours."

"I am sure it was he, he had come to repay the debt of our friendship," Shakti sat up and walked out of the tent. He could see the leopard lying dead on the ground. He could also see two shining eyes behind the bushes. He walked towards them.

"You must take your rifle with you, it is loaded now," called Malu from behind.

"I don’t need any weapon to meet my friend," said Shakti.

Seeing Shakti coming near, the bear rose to its great height and growled as if telling that he had done what a friend should, and then walked away. Soon, it disappeared into the dense forest.

"Good bye, friend!" said Shakti waving his hand from behind. He found Malu looking at him intently. He then said, "Friends will come and friends will go, but a friend like Bholu would never be found."

The Secret Bond : A Story

Manik played well today and made the highest score in the game, he had fielded well too taking two spectacular catches. After all the hard work he had put in, he felt hungry as he walked back home. He remembered he had a tenner in his pocket, so he decided to buy a bar of chocolate from the neighbourhood market. First he wanted to eat it, and then decided that he would eat it only after he washes his hands, so he headed home with quick steps.

As he climbed up the staircase to his apartment on the first floor, he found a small crowd standing in the lobby. He found his mother standing just outside the closed door with sweat on her forehead. He thought there was some thing wrong, so he dashed and was in no time before her. He grew cautious and asked, "What happened, Mummy?" He thought that he had got late, so she was worried about him.

"Thank God, you are here," said his mother.

"What is there to feel nervous about? I was in the ground playing cricket," Manik tried to pacify his mother. He noticed a letter in her hand.

"Is there something in this letter that worries you?" said Manik trying to take the letter.

"I am not worried about you or about this letter, son," she said. "Actually, the postman came and as I came out to take this letter from him, the door was accidentally closed and locked. This is the problem with automatic locks. I don’t have the key to open it."

"But you keep a key tied to your saree all the time, where is that?"

"I left it in the bathroom when I was bathing."

"Where is Grandpa?"

"He is right in the house, and he must be sleeping now. You know he is hard of hearing. I have pressed the bell and knocked at the door several times, but to no avail. I am trying to draw his attention for the last half an hour," his mother said wiping sweat from her forehead with her saree.

"Mummy, it must be half past five, Grandpa must be awake by now," said Manik.

"I can't say for sure, he is not very well today."

Manik looked around the building what he could do, and then he noticed the old neem tree near the kitchen window.

"I can climb up the tree to look into the house; I am sure Grandpa will see me," said Manik.

"No, you can fall down," his mother said anxiously.

"Don’t worry, Mummy," assured Manik. "I have climbed up this tree several times."

As Manik came down the stairs and started climbing up the tree, there were many people to draw his attention.

"Be careful."

"Hold that thin branch."

"That twig is weak, don’t hold that."

"Keep your foot on that hole."

Manik laughed in his heart about all these instructions. In no time, he was sitting at the branch from which he could see across the kitchen window.

"Can you see Grandpa?" his mother called from below.

"No, maybe he is asleep in his room," said Manik. "Let me wait here."

Manik was already feeling hungry, so he slipped his two fingers into his pocket and took out the bar he had bought while coming back. He removed the wrapper and ensured that he did not touch the chocolate inside, and as he took the first bite, his eyes saw something that amazed him. He could see Grandpa entering the kitchen. He hurriedly swallowed the bite and was about to call him, when he saw that Grandpa opened the refrigerator and took a bowl full of sweet pudding from the casserole. And now he was standing right there, quickly eating one spoon after another.
Manik held himself. He observed that Grandpa would eat from the bowl and also keep an eye on the entrance. He was taking sweet stealthily. The doctor had forbidden Grandpa to eat any sweets as he was suffering from diabetes, so his mother kept a strict eye on him; but today, he had found an opportunity to gulp down as much sweet as he could. Mice enjoy when the cat is away.

At first, Manik wanted to call, but then he remembered the favour that Grandpa had done to him just the previous day. He could not help suppress his smile, but covered his mouth because all his movements were being observed from below. He wanted to give Grandpa an opportunity to enjoy himself, and thus repay the debt.

Yesterday, Manik had got his monthly progress report in which he had scored very low marks in science. He knew that both Father and Mother would shout at him, so he told this fact to Grandpa first. He had said, "Grandpa, I am scared that I may be thrashed." At this, Grandpa had said, "Don’t worry, I'll ensure that nothing happens." In the evening, he had said to Father, "Manik is a good student, but he is a little weak in science, so there is nothing to be surprised when he scores low marks in science. I have decided to teach him science now. I am sure he will score nice marks in the final exams." This was an indication for Manik to show his progress card. Grandpa's warning had ensured that he would not be rebuked or thrashed. And now the time had come when he could repay the debt. After all, none can be a better friend than a grandfather.

Sitting on the branch, Manik decided that he should allow Grandpa to eat as much sweet as he wanted. He kept munching the chocolate showing as if he could see nothing inside the kitchen. He was enjoying Grandpa's expressions because he loved so much what he was forbidden to eat.

And suddenly, Grandpa happened to look outside the window. He had never expected to see Manik there on the tree, looking at him intently. A long line of terror appeared on his face. He hurriedly kept down the plate, joined both hands and put his finger on the mouth as if requesting to keep mum. Manik slowly nodded his head. Grandpa came near the window and whispered, "Before your mother enters, let me wash the plate and set the house in order. Just wait a little."

Mother called from below, "Manik, could you see Grandpa?"

"No…yes…I can see him coming from the room. I am trying to draw his attention," said Manik as he broke a twig or two to wave. "Yes, Mummy, he has seen me, let me call his attention."

After some time, the door was opened. Manik entered with Mother and said, "I want to have pudding today."

"You don’t like pudding I suppose," Mother looked at him. "Here is good news for you that I have cooked pudding today."

A little later, Mother served Manik a small bowl of pudding, which he pushed towards Grandpa, saying, "You too love pudding greatly."

"No, Manik, I don’t want, you know I have diabetes. The doctor has forbidden me to eat any sweets," said Grandpa meaningfully.

Mother intervened, "No problem, you can take a little. He is offering you the pudding with all the love of the world."

Mother found Grandpa and Manik smiling very softly. She could not understand the cause of it. She too joined them smiling. The secret bond between grandfather and grandson was growing stronger.

                                                                        --based on a story by Neela Subramaniam

Knocked Thirty in a Blow : A Story

As the little tailor heard a honey-seller in the street, he craned out his neck from the window, and finding the honey of good quality, purchased two spoonfuls. The poor honey-seller went away as he had never sold so little honey before, but he could not refuse him – he being the first customer of the day.

The tailor cut himself a slice of bread and spread it with honey and deciding to eat it after having finished with the shirt in hand, placed it on the table.

Having finished with the job in hand he decided to have his breakfast. He saw that many flies had swarmed feasting on the slice. He cried, “You little naughty things! How dare you do that!” And picking up the shirt he had just sewed, blew away the flies violently. He noted that many flies had fallen dead. He counted them. They were thirty in all.

“Wow! Thirty in one blow! How strong I am!” pleased at his feat, the little tailor said to himself. “The world must know how strong I am!” And he sat down to make a belt for himself and embroidered on it in bold words, ‘KNOCKED THIRTY IN ONE BLOW’. And taking a piece of cheese which he might need on the journey and the bird he had in the cage, he set out on his journey.

Going through the streets with his head held high in a cocksure manner, he reached a forest. Seeing his feat recorded on his belt, a terrible giant appeared before him and said, “So you think you’re so mighty.” And he picked up a stone and pressed it so hard that it powdered. “Try and do it if you’re that strong,” cried the giant.

Controlling his perplexity, the little tailor took out the cheese from his satchel and squeezed and whey dropped from it, and he triumphantly said, “And what do you think of that? Was my squeeze better than yours?”

“Well done!” cried the giant in his astonished voice and picked up another stone and flung it away, and it fell a great distance away. “Beat that, O tiny warrior!”

“No doubt it was a great throw, but you look up. I’ll throw the stone which would never land,” said the little tailor and he freed the bird into the air. Finding herself at liberty, the bird flew away out of sight, never to be seen again.

“Well, O little warrior!” said the puzzled giant at his defeat, “Your stature defies your might, and you’ve earned my invitation. Come to my cave and I’ll treat you like my honoured guest.”

At the giant’s cave they had had a nice dinner and the little tailor got a fine bed to sleep on, but he was ill at ease, for he was not very convinced of the giant’s intentions of having come to terms with him, so he placed the pillow in the middle of the bed, and curled up himself under the bed having a sound sleep.

The little tailor was right. At dead of night, the giant came into the room and hit the bed hard with a thick iron rod, crying, “So you’re finally off to a perennial rest, you little creature!”

Having saved himself from the savage power of the giant, the tailor knew that the best course for him was to flee, so he sneaked out of the cave and ran and ran all night until he arrived at the king’s palace in the town. The dawn had already broken and he was dead tired, and seeing the soft green grass in the garden, fell asleep snoring loudly.

He had not slept for long that he was awakened by the king’s men who seeing the inscription on his belt, woke him up and led him to the king. The king was much impressed by the inscription he had on his belt, and said, “If you’re brave enough, go to the forest and kill the two giants there. They keep terrifying my subjects and steal away the pets.”

“As you wish,” the little tailor could only speak.

“And if you do, you can have half of my kingdom and my daughter in marriage,” the king proclaimed.

The little tailor bowed knee deep little considering how he could deal with the giants and wondering if he would ever be able to accomplish it. In the forest, he spotted two enormous giants fast asleep under a tree. How to kill them, the question lurked. Shall I throw stones at them, thought he. But one such stone would hardly injure them and they would awake only to make mincemeat of me, thought he. And an idea flashed his mind.

The little tailor came behind the tree and judged if he could do what he wanted. Then he slapped one of the giants on the face and hid behind the tree. The giant awoke and looked first at the other giant and finding him fast asleep thundering in snores, he looked around, and finding no one around once again lay down to sleep.

The little tailor once again came out from behind the tree and slapped hard the other giant. Now he awoke. Finding the first giant asleep, he too once again slept. Now the tailor hit the first giant again. He had hardly slept by then. He looked at the other giant. Not finding him asleep as fast as he was earlier, punched awoke him crying, “Hey you! It’s too much.”

The other giant sat up and finding his companion raging in fury cried, “It’s you who are hitting me.”

“Don’t tell me,” roared the first.

The two giants argued and quarrelled, hit each other with punches and slaps, and threw rocks and trees, and at last both of them fell dead.

The little tailor walked into the king’s palace and said proudly, “It’s all over. It was difficult indeed, but I finished them off. They threw trees at me and I returned with rocks, and the poor giants could hardly stand my fierce attacks.”

Having told the cooked up story, the tailor bowed his head anticipating for the reward the king had announced, but the king had never really thought to give half his kingdom and his daughter to the funny-looking man, so he said, “You’ve done a great job indeed, but to earn your reward, you need to get rid of the unicorn plaguing the kingdom.”

Once again the little tailor set off to the forest. The unicorn was a horse-like fierce animal with a strong horn on its forehead. As soon as it saw him, it began chasing him, making him to run for his life. Little did he know how he was to take on the dreaded animal, so he ran helter-skelter in the woods. When he saw the unicorn had caught up and was just behind him, he jumped behind a huge tree. In its flow of great speed, the unicorn could neither stop nor divert and thrust hard its horn into the trunk of the tree. Presently, it was no more in a position to move and all the little the little tailor had to do was to severe its head with his little sword.

The little tailor, having accomplished the job entrusted to him, returned to the king with his head held high boosting about his adventure. However, the king was least pleased with him and was perturbed at the thought of loosing half of his land and daughter in marriage, so he thought out another way, “The princess desires that you must spend a night with the bear in the palace cellar, and if you can do that, you’ll have your reward at once.” The king thought that he’d get rid of the tailor in this way, for the bear was very frightening and no one had ever escaped from his sharp claws.

“That’s not a great problem,” said the tailor.

In the evening the tailor was left in the cellar and locked from outside. As the bear got ready to make mincemeat of him, the little tailor took out some walnuts from his satchel, cracked open one and ate the inside. He then asked the bear, “Would you like to eat them? They are so tasty.”

The bear nodded. The little tailor gave him a walnut. The bear crack opened with his teeth and found it very tasty to eat. “Yes, it’s really good!” said the bear. “Give me some more.”

The little tailor this time gave him small brown pebbles. The bear wanting to taste the dainty inside, tried his best to crack open them, but little knowing that he was trying on pebbles, broke all his sharp teeth.

The bear was tired, but unable to sleep owing to pain in the teeth. The little tailor knew this, so he brought out the wooden flute and played. The bear liked the music and said, “Can you teach me how to play the flute?”

“Of course, I can, but your sharp long nails will come in the way,” said the little tailor. “If you’re so sure to learn it, you may have to undergo a little pain.”

“That I can, for I want to learn it. I can play whenever I want to entertain myself,” the bear replied.

“That’s the spirit,” said the tailor whipping out his needle. “I’d need to sew up your nails, agreed?”

“Yea,” said the bear. The tailor sewed down the nails of the bear and said, “See, I’m quite tired now. I’ll teach you how to play flute on the morrow.” And he lay down on the bear’s soft straw and fell asleep, snoring and muttering in sleep as he was used to. The bear wanted to learn music right then, but he was able to do nothing without his claws and teeth and growling helplessly he too slept down.

In the morning, the king had no more ideas to get rid of the little tailor and he married his daughter with him. The little tailor, now the king of half the kingdom, began to lead a comfortable life. One night, as was his habit, he muttered in sleep, “I’ll sew your shirt next week.”

Listening to these words, his wife felt strange and went to her father and repeated the words The king now knew the reality and said, “Your husband is nothing but a poor tailor.”

The princess too no more wanted to live with her husband, so the king said, “Tonight I’ll send some men to deal with him. All that you’ve to do is to keep the window of the bedroom open.’’

As the little tailor lay down on his bed, he heard some hushed voices from the window. Blinking he looked in that direction. He saw some soldiers stealthily sneaking into the room. He knew he could not fight them, so pretending fast asleep, he murmured, this time loud enough to be heard by the soldiers in the window, “I knocked thirty in one blow and killed the two enormous giants and a fierce unicorn and clapped the claws of the mighty bear, so why should I be afraid of the men in the window? I can kill them all in one blow.”

Listening to his words, the soldiers ran away as fast as they could. But the tailor realized that he might not be able to survive long, so he gathered a bagful of gold and fled from the kingdom the same night.

The Jar of Greed : A Story

Once upon a time, there lived a potter in a village. He was an expert craftsman. His pots were beautiful and sold at a good price. His earnings were enough to look after his day-to-day needs but there was hardly anything he could save. The potter wanted his wife to look like a rich lady wearing expensive and gaudy jewellery, but he was not able to save even a penny out of his earnings. His inability to save made him desperate. So one day, he said to his wife, “I want you to have gold ornaments, so you must save as much as you can.”

As you might know, the women are fond of jewellery, so she began to save as much as possible. Thus passed many weeks but their saving was not at all enough to buy a ring even, let alone other costly necklaces and bangles. As the potter’s desire became harder to realize, he had an idea up his mind. He said to his wife. “Cut on food expenses as much as you can. We can do without one meal a day.”

Now they began to have only two meals a day instead of three. It had an adverse impact on their health. They were now weaker than ever before. With every passing day, they became thinner and weaker. Even then the potter’s desire to have gold did not subside.

They went without one meal for many months and at last were able to save enough for a necklace, though not very heavy and thick. But the potter was not content with it. He wanted his wife to have more gold ornaments. But there was no more possibility of cutting down any more of his expenditures. He pondered over the situation for long for a way out so that he could hasten the process of accumulating gold ornaments. The idea that struck his mind was to increase the price of his pots. He doubled the rates. It made it possible to earn more but was not yet enough to fulfil his desire. Thus passed a few more weeks.

The potter, as was his wont, used to have a long walk in the morning to keep good health. One day, he was out on a stroll in the woods. His mind was, as usual, deep sunk in thoughts about gold ornaments. Just then he heard a voice. It seemed to emanate from a tree. The voice said, “O potter! Is it that you want gold?”

“Yes, I want,” cried back the potter in desperation. “I want to be rich.”

“Will it satisfy your desire if you get five jars of gold?” came the voice.

“Yes, it should,” said the astonished potter.

“Well, now you run back to your cottage. You’ll find five jars of gold,” said the voice before it fell silent.

For a moment the potter stood his ground stunned and startled, but the very next moment he began to run towards his cottage, praying all the while that he might get those five jars of gold as promised by the voice. It had not told a lie. There were indeed five jars of gold. They all were covered with lids. His wife sat down near the jars while the potter kept standing bewildered. He told his wife what the voice had told him. His wife removed the lid of the first jar. She exclaimed, “Yes, it is full of gold!”

The potter too stooped over the jar to see what lay inside it. It was molten gold full to the brim. Then she removed the lid of the second jar. Yes, it was full of gold too. The third and the fourth ones were full of gold as well. Their happiness knew no bounds. Only one pot remained to be seen. “Let’s keep these pots in safe custody,” said the potter.

“Yes, we ought to, but we must first see the fifth pot too if it’s full of gold,” suggested his wife.

“Sure, we ought to do it,” said the potter removing the lid. But no! The pot was half-full, or say, half-empty as the potter perceived it.

“You opened it so only it is half-full,” shouted the potter’s wife.

“Oh, yes! I should have let you open it. But you need not worry it. We’ll fill it with gold and make it as full as the other pots are,” said the potter.

The potter took the necklace and the ring that his wife had, and got them melted at the village jeweller. But alas! It was hardly sufficient to fill it to the brim. The fifth jar remained half-empty as it was before. The potter sold all the utensils and exchanged them for gold, but the jar remained half-empty.  He sold the little furniture he had, but the level of gold in the fifth jar refused to rise. His wife and he further reduced their meals from two to one, but it failed to raise the level of the gold in weeks. It drove him to extreme desperation. Physically too, he was famished, frail and feeble.

One day as the potter passed by the landlord’s place, the latter called him and said, “What’s the matter? You’ve grown quite thin and weak, haven’t you? Are you ill?

 “No, I am not ill,” replied the potter.

“Then there must be something very sad troubling you, for your face is very gloomy these days,” inquired the landlord.

“There’s nothing serious. It’s money that I’m worried about,” said the potter.

“Money! But you should be having a lot of it because you’ve almost doubled the prices of your wares,” said the landlord.

The potter contemplated in his mind whether he should tell the landlord that he was worried about gold and more gold. He had not told anyone about the five jars. The landlord was a helpful, kind-hearted man. So the potter decided to reveal the secret. He told everything and added, “It’s the fifth jar that I’ve miserably failed to fill up to the brim. It’s what has driven me crazy.”

Listening to this, the landlord laughed loudly and for long. The potter looked at him with wide open eyes without understanding what made him laugh. The landlord said, “So you’re fixed up in a trap!”

“What trap?” said the potter still bewildered at the sudden change of behaviour of the landlord.

The landlord said, “It was I who was offered those jars. I too found the fifth jar half full, but instead of filling it with my gold, I went to the tree and asked why it was half-full.”

“Then?” said the potter.

“I asked why the fifth jar was half-full. The voice said that the fifth jar would always remain half-empty,” the landlord said.

“What happened next?” the potter asked anxiously.

“The voice fell silent even though I tried my best to get more answers from it. But I understood that it was a trap. The voice meant that the jar always remains empty however hard I might try to fill it. It meant that this jar was the jar of greed which is never fulfilled,” explained the landlord.

“Then how did you get rid of the trap?” asked the potter.

“It was not at all difficult,” said the landlord. “I asked the tree to take back its five jars. When I went home, all the jars had disappeared.”

“Are you sure what you said,” asked the potter.

“There is not an iota of doubt in it,” replied the landlord.

The potter straightaway went to the tree and requested it to take back the five jars of gold which had made his life miserable. When the potter reached back home, the jars had all vanished and with it had also vanished the gold that he had put into it. Awakened from his greed, he found that had lost even his own utensils and furniture which he would have to work hard to earn once again.  However, he was feeling very relaxed and happy.

The Twin Trouble : A Story

The entire house was in a shocked, silent state; only some sobs could be heard at some intervals. Nikhil had received a couple of slaps from his father; his cries had by now transformed into mild sobs. Father's anger had burst out because his monthly progress report had the unsavoury remark : 'There is little possibility of his passing.'

Nikhil was lying on the floor, while Father had already gone to his room, still murmuring angrily. Mother sat down on the floor taking Nikhil's head in her lap. And there, Nitin stood blankly with his report card in his hand. He was hungry; in excitement for his result, he had not taken breakfast; so, he needed food immediately. Once again he glanced at his report card, which said : 'Excellent, keep it up!' He had stood first in his class and was among the highest scorers in all school, but nobody seemed to bother. What all others had seen was that Nikhil had failed in three subjects, and no more.

Nitin saw that Mother was still busy caressing and tapping Nikhil's head, and saw little opportunity of her paying any interest to him. He wanted kudos for his accomplishment, so he went to his father. "Here is my progress report."

His father took it, glanced at it cursorily and then gave it back, saying in an indifferent tone, "Good."

Nitin was dissatisfied with only this much appreciation. He wanted more of his parents' attention, but all that was diverted to Nikhil. His father said, "Go, show it to your stupid brother."

'Here too Nikhil,' Nitin said to himself. He almost sobbed within himself, his eyes getting moist, he silently looked at his father and murmured to himself, 'Don’t you pride in me and my accomplishments?' But he was sure that his sentiments would not be taken care of. He was dying to hear words of commendation from his parents, but they all seemed to be focussed more on the failure than on the success.

Nitin was growing hungry. He needed food immediately, so he went back to his mother. She still sat on the floor caressing Nikhil. He blurted out, "Ma, I'm hungry."

"Can't you see that lunch has been set on the table? Go and help yourself," said she in a little raised tone.

Nitin went to the dining table. He removed the lids to see what all was cooked. Oh no! Golden fried eggs, lady's finger and paranthas, exactly what Nikhil likes. His like was not at all taken care of. None of all those dishes was there that he liked so ardently. 'Is this the reward for his good performance?' Trying to suppress his anguish, he served himself food. Everything was cooked what Nikhil liked. Why doesn’t she cook at least one dish that he likes? He sat down, but could not eat well, but what he did was strange. He emptied the casserole of all lady's finger, ate only a little, and discarded the rest in the garbage bin. He was gradually growing defiant, wishing to have his parents' attention.

The reaction had to come sooner or later. After some time, Nikhil's feelings were assuaged and he was brought to the dining table. There was another shock. Nitin had already emptied out one dish that Nikhil liked best. Mother was furious, she screamed, "Are you a mindless creature? What will Nikhil eat now?"

His brother's name seemed to prick him. He cried, "Let him eat what there is. Let him starve, only then will he learn to pass."

"You don’t have to advise me how to punish him," admonished his mother. "Your father is thrashing him and you want him to die of hunger." Then she darted to the kitchen to cook more lady's fingers.

Nitin looked at Nikhil before heading to his room, mumbling to himself, 'He is quite stupid! When I am studying, he would go out to play. And Mother, she would run after him lest he should get tired. And when I ask for some help, she would simply ask me to do it myself. Am I not her son? She forgets about me all the time. She says that she can't run after me every now and then, and she exactly does this for Nikhil. She neglects me for Nikhil's sake. I hate him.'

Nitin decided that he would not do so well in the next unit tests; he was quite angry with all attention being paid to Nikhil. This time he secured a tenth position in the class, but Nikhil had improved greatly, he had attained passing marks in all subjects. As Nitin walked back home with the report card, he was excited that his parents would now pay attention to him and ask him to study well. He was a little scared that his father could hit him as well. But he was sure that Mother would cook his favourite dishes and would run after him.

As Nikhil and Nitin stood before Father with their report cards, he took Nikhil's report card first, and expressed elation. He said, "You are improving, Good." And then he took Nitin's report card and said lightly, "When we are satisfied with Nikhil's progress, you have come with this kind of report. Can't you both give me happy news together?"

'Again Nikhil!' Nitin grumbled. He said miserably, "I have still scored better than him."

"Don’t compare with him, compare with your past performance," his father said indifferently. He was still looking at Nikhil's report card feeling happy.

Nikhil stomped to his room. He did not wish to have lunch that day. He was thinking how he could draw his parents' love and attention. His trick to score less had not succeeded. And then he decided to fail in the next test. 'Only then they would realize my importance. They would love me and praise me.' To him, getting failed seemed to be the only answer. He was sunk in inner conflict. He was not studying well these days. He was angry that all their attention was fixed on Nikhil, who was not doing good, and he was deprived of all their love despite his good performance.

Days ticked by and the next unit tests started. The first test was that of mathematics. He had left for school with a firm resolve that he would not solve even a single question, or do them all wrongly.

As the question paper was given, he read it from beginning to end. He wanted to first attempt a question that he did not know. 'Ah! I know all the questions well. How can I do them wrongly?' Nitin was undergoing a great upheaval within him. 'If I did well this time too, my parents would never care for me.'

He picked up his pen and wrote on the test book, 'Question No. 1'. But then he kept down his pen. He could not think to do a question wrongly that he knew so well. He sat blankly and then burst out crying. Tears rolled down his cheeks.

All eyes diverted to him. He hid his face in his palms and cried inconsolably. His teacher came to him promptly and said, "Are you not well, Nitin? What's the matter? Is the question paper too tough?"

Nitin was crying uncontrollably. He could not utter even a single word. He had been suffering from his parents' neglect for some time, and it had become unbearable now. The class too was shocked at his behaviour. Normally, he was the first to solve all questions, but today, he was crying with the question paper before his eyes.

The teacher took Nitin to the principal who offered him water to drink. When he pacified a little, he asked, "Nitin, you are a brilliant school. The whole school prides in you. What's the matter today? Don’t you know the questions?"

"I know them all, but I don’t want to do them correctly," Nitin said with trembling lips.

"But why?"

Nitin was crying again now. The principal rang up his father, who came immediately thinking that there was some problem with Nikhil. When he found Nitin sitting in the principal's chamber, he was surprised. He asked, "What is it?"

Nitin was still overflowing with sentiments, he could not speak for a while. The principal said, "Your son knows all the questions, but quite strangely refuses to solve them. Do you know what the matter is with him?"

His father was bewildered at this. He said, "He is a brilliant boy and my lovely son. He doesn’t need any care or warning. He studies of his own, never does he fail to be a good boy. We are never worried about him, so good he is."

"I want you to be worried about me," blurted out Nitin. "Nikhil fails, still you love him. The more he fails, the more you love him. So I thought that I should fail to get your love. You don’t otherwise love me. You don’t want me. But how can I fail? I know all the answers."

Dumbfounded, his father looked at him. The principal said, "For any child, the greatest burden on his psyche is his parents' love. It is your shortcoming that you let him feel biased against."

His father could not decide for some time what to say. Then he started in a low voice, "Nitin and Nikhil are twins. Nikhil has been weak since his birth, he also has a lower resistance, he is prone to fall sick any time, so it is natural for us to pay more attention to him. Maybe due to this we have grown more anxious about him. We ardently wish that he too should become like Nitin. He is not like Nitin, this pains me, and sometimes it is so distressing that I even thrash him."

"You haven’t been justified in this," the principal said in a firm tone.

"I promise that all this would no more recur."

Nitin was looking at his father's face. He could clearly notice his wet eyes. His father pulled him and took him in his tight embrace and said, "You're the star of my eyes, so is Nikhil. I want both of you to succeed. In my effort to see him at par with you, I have perhaps made you feel bad. I am sorry for that."

Nitin too was weeping, "I have been too selfish, Father." He knew that he was loved greatly, only Nikhil needed a little more attention. He too promised that he would help him come up.

As the two walked out, the principal said, "I'll get today's paper arranged for you on another day."

Father and son thanked him before closing the door behind them.

                                                                                    --based on a story by Ajila Girija Kumar

Cycling Adventure : A Story

Read my new story and enjoy :

Uncle Dev was my best friend despite he being twelve years older than me. It was he who taught me several things including flying kite and riding bicycle; he even taught me playing gilli-danda, but we had to abandon this adventurous game after a misadventure in which I happened to hit the gilli at a window pane, shortly followed by it crash landing on the head of the very lady who was the owner of the house whose window pane I had broken.

"No more of gilli-danda!" commanded my mother shouting as loud as she could, which made this command of the first degree, that is, it had to be followed whatever the situation.

I dared not disobey her commands, so did Uncle Dev.

And then flying kite too was forbidden one fine sunny day. It had rained for two days, and the sun was out that day. The roof of our old house was muddy, and it had grown slippery. We cared little for the slippery roof when we decided to fly the kite as Basant was round the corner and several kites dotted the skyline inviting us to try our hands too. Leave alone flying the kite, we had not even threaded the kite when Uncle Dev tripped and hit his head on the side wall. He bled profusely, crying loud enough to attract Mummy's attention. She cared for his wound later, but first forbade us to go on to the roof and ever make any effort to fly kites.

Three days later, when Uncle Dev had recovered from his wound, I said, "The only sport we have at our disposal in this dusty town is cycling. God forbid if we are forbidden from riding too."

"Don’t worry, buddy," said Uncle Dev. He addressed me 'buddy', and I loved this term.

Uncle Dev was unemployed; he had tried his hand at numerous jobs, but bad luck accompanied him whichever job he chose to do. After his twelfth, he joined a departmental store as a salesman and this job lasted until the store caught fire and was destroyed. Then he joined a clinic as a nursing assistant and worked here until the clinic was torched by the family members of a patient who had died out of medical negligence. Then he joined a hotel and served here until it was closed down following the discovery of a lizard in its vegetable. And now no businessman in town dared to employ him…and I think all this was unfortunate; I don’t think he had ever done any mischief; but he was certainly unlucky and bad things happened of themselves.

Cycling was what we both loved. It provides the rider a great amount of freedom. It affords you the freedom to look around as you ride, though in the increasing traffic, it has become increasingly difficult to deviate your eyes from the road, still a bicycle is far better than a motorcycle. When you are riding a motorcycle, or a scooter for that matter, you don’t think about anything else but the destination; on the other hand, when you are on a bicycle, you can stop at any place. If you are on the motorcycle, a helmet with a glass cover is a must, else you can't open your eyes, but nothing of the sort with a bicycle. The gusts of wind that you feel on the face eliminate all your fatigue; the more you ride, the more you like to ride, so fun it is to ride a bicycle. You see the world as you ride by, and give the world a chance to see you as well. Yet another great disadvantage with a motorcycle is that even a small touch with another vehicle can dislodge you from the seat and bring you crashing down on the road with the vehicle right upon you. But a bicycle is another thing. Even if you topple over, there is little chance of getting seriously hurt, chiefly owing to slower speed.

Uncle Dev and I rode bicycle through the city often times, especially in our vacations. I can vividly remember our riding on the long cycle track that the government built two years ago, and I also saw how soon it was rendered useless within a year owing to below standard material used in it. Riding through Mall Road was fun as greenery pervades the landscape there, and it is fun to ride the bicycle on the cycle track in the stadium, where our ordinary bicycles were not allowed, but we always succeeded to sneak in.

We had ridden so much on the city roads that we were looking for a new adventure, and then we decided to have an exhilarating long bicycle ride on the outskirts of the town.

It was eight in the morning of the month of June. We wanted to have adventure before my summer vacations would be over. It was quite warm, but we were little worried. I set out bidding good-bye to Mummy and followed Uncle Dev, who always liked to be the harbinger. We first headed for the big round-about and then turned to the road leading to the old fort. We rode and rode, and crossed a couple of dusty villages on the way. We must have ridden for well over an hour. I was feeling a little hungry, but more thirsty than hungry. I caught up with Uncle Dev and said, "Uncle, I think we should stop for a while."

"Yes, sure, buddy, we have been riding for quite a while," said he looking at the watch. "Look, there is a little greenery, we can stop there."

We stopped our bicycles. Only then we noticed that we had not brought our water bottles. We always carried them with us, but today we seemed to have missed such an important point.

"What can we do?" asked I.

"I think we can drink from one of the hand-pumps that we find in some village," suggested Uncle Dev.

"No, why not buy bottled water," said I.

"Do you think we are going to get bottled water on this road?" said he. "All the villages we have come across on this road are very poor."

"What harm is it to try? At least we will get some cold drink there."

Uncle Dev shook his head and then we rode again only to stop at the next village. Luckily, perhaps not luckily, we found a shop selling bottled water.

"How much is this bottle?" asked Uncle Dev slipping his hand into his trousers pocket, which came out empty. When I saw him, I found him scratching his head with two fingers. He was looking to me with perplexing eyes.

"What happened?" asked I.

"I think I have forgotten my purse at home," said he.

"What should we do?" I was angry with him. Then I decided to try with the shopkeeper if he would give the bottle for free. "Bhaiya, we are very thirsty. Give me a bottle and I shall pay on my next visit here."

"Sorry, little friend, I am yet to make any sale today, and if you are so thirsty, why don’t you try that hand-pump?" said the shopkeeper in his rough voice pointing to the hand-pump.

"I can't say if the water is safe there," said Uncle Dev. "Let's try at some restaurant, I'm sure we can get clean water there."

We started to ride again. Not far had we gone when we spotted an impressive building. We braked our bicycles right in the front and looked for any signboards, there was none, in one corner of the outside wall, was written, "Wellness of the mind is what we care about." The building appeared to be some hotel or hostel, or may be a spa.

We looked into each other's eyes, and then straightaway rode into the porch. Leaving our bicycles there, we went in. We spotted a water-cooler near the reception. This was what we were looking for. We drank to our delight and felt fresh.

Just then, a lady in a white saree approached us. She said in a sweet voice, "Sir, please take a seat there, Sir will be right here in a few minutes."

"Thank you for the water, but we aren’t here to meet any one," said Uncle Dev. "We would better go."

"You cannot go without meeting Sir," said the lady, but this time her tone was firm.

"We have come far this time and we are getting late," said I. "Mummy will be waiting for us."

"You can go, but he needs to meet Sir," said the lady stressing every syllable.

"How can you force him to meet Sir?" said I.

"We are going," said Uncle Dev rudely. "That is too high a price for some water that we took here."

"You mean you are not going to behave well," said the lady in a threatening voice. "Guards!" she called in a loud voice.

And in no time, three well-built guards appeared on the scene. They surrounded Uncle Dev. "This patient refuses to see Sir, take him in."

"I am no patient," cried Uncle Dev hoarsely.

We were completely bewildered, Uncle Dev was being taken for some patient, and then I gathered my courage to ask, "What type of patient do you think he is?"

"He is a lunatic and he is now at the right place, it is the best lunatic asylum in the region," said the lady.

"I am not mentally ill," cried Uncle Dev in desperation.

"He is not mentally ill," I too screamed realizing the gravity of the situation.

"We entered here by mistake, we came here only for water," said Uncle Dev.

"You can see our bicycles outside," said I.

But no one seemed to hear us seriously.

Two guards linked Uncle Dev's arms and took him to the office, while I trailed behind. I was undecided whether I should remain there or rush back home to tell Mummy what terrible thing had happened to Uncle Dev.

Uncle Dev was forced to lie down in the doctor's cabin, while I was asked to wait outside. I could hear Uncle Dev shrieking desperately, but no one seemed to be interested in what all he was telling.

Just then an ambulance arrived, and from it appeared two sturdy nursing assistants linking arms to a man and marching towards the doctor's office. All along, he was raising his legs in the air and shouting, "I am perfectly sane, why are you carrying me?"

And soon the dark cloud of doubts dispersed. In a couple of minutes, the doctor was begging sorry. "We took him to be our patient, we're sorry, extremely sorry," said he.

And when he heard that we were thirsty and hungry, he fed us a rich banquet of snacks. When we left, he did not forget to give us a bottle of water, and bid us farewell with the parting words, "I'm sure this bottle will keep you safe from any untoward entry in any building where you shouldn’t be."

My story in Reader's Digest

It is based on a personal experience.

My Article in the Janwani to be Published on 5/7/14

xzkej Iok;aV

ge jpuk ds vk/kkj ij pkj izdkj ds okD; cuk ldrs gSaA ;fn bUgsa vki lh[k ysas rks vki fdlh Hkh fopkj dks vklkuh ls O;Dr dj ldrs gSa &

1-     Subject + Intransitive Verb : ,sls okD;ksa esa ;gh nks eq[; Hkkx gksrs gSaA Intransitive Verb esa Object dh vko';drk ugha gksrh %

A child danced.

Two crows were cawing.

Some boys will run.

If you speak, you will be turned out.

2-     Subject + Intransitive Verb + Adverbial Complement : buesas mijksDr izdkj ds okD;ksa esa ,d vkSj rF; tksM+ fn;k tkrk gS] mijksDr mnkgj.kksa dks ,d ckj vkSj ns[ksa %

A child danced on the stage.

Two crows were cawing harshly.

Some boys will run together.

If you speak here, you will be turned out.

/;ku nsa fd js[kkafdr 'kCn Object ugha gSaA vU; nks izdkj ds okD;ksas dks ge vxys lIrkg le>k,axsA

vkt ds 'kCn

vusd 'kCn vkidks ijs'kku djrs gSa] mudk iz;ksx /;ku ls djus dh vko';drk gksrh gS %

innings : bldk Singular/Plural ;gh gksrk gS] dqN yksx blds Singular ds :i esas inning dk iz;ksx djrs gSa tks xyr gS %

The first innings of the match is over.

There are two innings in this match.

vanj dh ckr

fuEu okD;ksa dks /;ku ls ns[ksas %

He called Father from behind.

He called his father from behind.

tc ge igys okD; ds js[kkafdr 'kCn ;kfu dsoy Father dk iz;ksx djrs gSas rks ;g Proper Noun gksrk gS] ;g fdlh uke ds cjkcj gksrk gS] tSls eksfgr] js[kk vkfnA ;g iz;ksx vkidk ml O;fDr ds lkFk fudV laca/k Hkh fn[kkrk gSA ysfdu tc ge blds lkFk fdlh Article (a, an, the) ;k Determiner (my, his, her, your vkfn) dk iz;ksx djrs gSa rks ;g Common Noun gks tkrk gSA Proper Noun ds :i esa blds fy, Capital Letter dk gh iz;ksx gksrk gSA vc ;g vkids Åij fuHkZj gS fd vki fdlh fj'rsnkj ;k fe= dks fdl :i esa cqykuk pkgrs gSa %

Friend went to see Mala in the hospital.

I have a friend who is very frolicsome.

His brother is my friend.

Some young people came to see Brother.

jkspd Kku

fo'o dh dqN jktuhfrd ikfVZ;ksa ds jkspd uke gSa & gaxjh dh The Two-tailed Dog Party ¼nks iwNksa okys dqRrs dh ikVhZ½ o vesfjdk dh The Rent Is Too Damn High Party ¼fdjk;k cgqr vf/kd gS ikVhZ½A gka] ;g etkd ugha gSA

Wonderful Meerut

Meerut is a district located in Uttar Pradesh, India. It is a wonderful place if you want to look history of any period - prehistoric, ancient, medieval or modern. Of many prehistoric sites, we visited one today - Lakshagraha. It is a Mahabharata-period site, where the Pandava brothers dug out an underground tunnel to escape from the palace of wax that was meant to burn them. That tunnel is still there, which opens on the confluence of two rivers - Hindan and Krishna rivers. And there is also a stone tomb, with beautiful carvings, still intact on the top of the hill. A beautiful sight indeed.

Kejriwal and Rahul

Kejriwal and Rahul are seeking people's opinion on everything, and what can be the consequences? Read this story and enjoy yourself. I have abridged and adapted it a little :
The Great Bell

"My people," the king begins when the people have gathered, "We greet you!"

"Great king of ours, we greet you!" the people respond.

"My loyal and beloved people, we greet you!"

"Great king, we greet you! We greet you!! We greet you!!!"

"The Great Bell has been finished," he proclaims.

"Yeeaah!!!" the people cheer. "Long live the king!"

"But," he cautions, "the bell is not yet working properly."

Well-disposed to their king, the short-sighted and stunted people are quick in offering suggestions.

"Set more engineers on it!"

"Hire some foreign engineers!"

"No! Consult the Oracle!"

"Yes! Consult the Oracle!"

The cries go on and on until the old king raises his hand.

"My loyal and beloved people," His Majesty says, "We appreciate your concern and interest in our Great Bell. However, we doubt if this is a matter for the Oracle. Besides, the engineers know what the problem is. But they have not been able to solve it. That is why we are gathered here today."

The people can barely wait for His Majesty to finish.

"Why can't the engineers solve it?"

"What sort of engineers are they, fake ones?"

"They should be caned!"

"I say they should be hanged!"

The passionate short-sighted and stunted people shout on until the royal hand goes up again. "My loyal people," His Majesty coaxes, "We doubt if this is a hanging matter. The engineers have done a great job. Why should we hang them for a problem they can't solve? Remember they are a part of us too. Indeed, we think they should be highly rewarded for their work!"

"Yes, I agree. Let's reward them!"

"A cow with a bell for each!"

"No! A white bicycle is better!"

"But that is the king's official vehicle!"

"A black one then. A black bicycle for each man!"

"Agreed. One man; one bicycle!"

"But the Great Bell is not yet working properly!"

The king smiles and strokes his curly grey beard as he muses over his subjects. One minute they want a hanging, the next they want to hand out rewards. He is still smiling as his hand goes up.

"My beloved people, we believe the first thing we should do is find out what the problem is. Why is the Great Bell not working properly?"

"Yes, yes, yes," the people agree, "why?"

"The answer to that," His Majesty declares, "can best be provided by the Chief of Engineers."

"Summon the Chief of Engineers!"

"My beloved people," His Majesty says, "we give you the Chief of Engineers. He will tell you what is wrong with our Great Bell."

A lanky monocled man with wire-brush grey beards appears on the dais where the king sits with his entourage. He presses his monocle lightly as he executes a slight bow before the king. Then he whips a sheaf of papers out of his pocket.

"Great king I salute you. With your kind permission, Your Majesty..."

The Monarch acknowledges the salutation and motions for the Chief of Engineers to proceed. The latter faces the people. "Great people, I greet you!"

"Chief of Engineers, we greet you!"

"The problem with the Great Bell is that it fails to strike at hourly intervals as it had been designed to do."

The short-sighted and stunted people, a great talkative lot if there has ever been one, display their vaunted mettle of the tongue.

"Hey you! Don't we know that already?"

"Did they say this man is the Chief of Engineers?"

"Speak, man speak!"

"He is speaking! But until you shut up you will never hear him!"

His Majesty's hand goes up. "People, people, control yourselves. Chief of Engineers, please continue."

The Chief of Engineers continues. "The Great Bell won't strike because a big spring restrains the hammerhead."

The people are incensed.

"Well then, take the damned spring off!"

"This man should be caned, I say!"

"Is this the Chief of Engineers?"

"I doubt if he can engineer a pot of soup!"

"Oh, what a shame!"

Again, His Majesty's hand institutes silence.

"My beloved people," he teases, "stop heaping abuse on the Chief of Engineers. Allow him to explain things to you. After all, he is the Chief of Engineers."

The Chief of Engineers thanks His Majesty and directs a gaze of long-suffering at the people. "The spring holding back the hammerhead cannot be removed because its removal will cause the hammerhead to fall and wreck the Great Bell. We cannot allow that to happen. It will be a grave calamity."

"So what is the solution?" comes the retort from the people.

His Majesty gives a royal throat-clearing. "My beloved people, it is you who must offer suggestions to be considered by the engineers."

Elated at the chance to show their problem-solving prowess, the short-sighted and stunted people fall over themselves.

"Put a screw through the hammerhead to hold it in place then remove the spring."

"Nonsense! Add more steel to the hammerhead to--"

"Rubbish! Place the hammerhead in a vice-like grip so--"

"You're dumb! That hammerhead is not strong enough--"

"And you need to hang a bell around your neck so people will know a cow is coming! The hammerhead is not the problem! The problem is the spring--"

"Are you the only one here? Please let me say something--"

"No it's my turn--"

The wise old king raises his hand. "People, people, control yourselves! Everyone shall have a say. But first let's hear what the Chief of Engineers think of the ideas we have heard so far."

The Chief of Engineers, looking up briefly from the paper he has been busy scribbling in, clears his throat. "Thank you, Your Majesty. Eh, we can't put a screw through the hammerhead because it will cease to be moveable and we can't compromise with that. Adding more steel will totally destroy the design function of the hammerhead. A vice just won't work; we already tried. I should add that the hammerhead is strong enough so that isn't the problem. Finally, removing the spring as I have already explained is not an option."

"Thank you, Chief of Engineers," His Majesty says. "Now we will hear more suggestions. We urge you to be orderly and respectful."

Chastened by the king's words, the people are momentarily shy. But they are not known for being able to keep mum.

"Perhaps we should redesign the Great Bell."

"I disagree. A bracket is what's needed."

"Perhaps we should use another spring to counter the action of the first spring."

"I wanted to say that!"

"A spring might work."

"But it would have to be a stronger spring."

"Yes! Make for us another spring!"

"Indeed! Set a spring to tame a spring!"

Up goes the king's hand again. He motions to the Chief of Engineers to comment on the spring issue.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," the Chief of Engineers begins, scratching his eagle head. "I must confess that we did think of another spring initially. But we discarded the idea because it's a likely two-edged sword. It may work, but it may also fail, causing a design nonperformance and possible malfunction that could lead to the destruction of the Great Bell. In fact the original design called for a reversing spring. But we abandoned it because of the inherent danger."

"But there's a good chance it might work, not so?" someone queries from the front ranks.

"Yes," says the Chief of Engineers. "There is a good chance. Indeed, synchronising the clock flywheel with the hammerhead and bell mechanism will be much easier with a second spring. But it will involve very extensive calculations to establish a reasonable margin of safety. This is because the addition of a second spring will automatically draw us closer to unacceptable uncertainty. What that means is that we may succeed in activating the bell mechanism to function as per its original design concept, but we would also unwittingly trigger a disparity in the displacement. The slightest error could be very dangerous. "

"Please! Please! Spare us!"

"Ah! My head is getting heavy!"

"Is he speaking English?"

"You engineers should work out all the calculations you need to work out--"

"Yes! We only want to hear the Great Bell toll at every hour, to the proper count!"

"But," the Chief of Engineers strains to be heard, "but the safety margin is so miserably low that the slightest--"

"Damn your safety margin!"

"Aren't you the Chief of Engineers?"

"I wonder! Go deal with your safety margin!"

"Make for us a spring!"

"Oh yes, a spring!"

"A spring then," comes the concluding remark of His Majesty, throwing his royal weight behind his people.

 And so the engineers do their calculations, worrying crazily over safety factors. Eventually they build the spring and instal it. The king then sets a date to unveil the Great Bell. On the appointed day, the entire country gathers at the centre of the country under the Great Bell.

 "My loyal people, we greet you!" His Majesty begins the greeting protocol. The king then delivers his speech. "My truly loyal and dearly beloved people," he declares in royal tones, "it is with great joy that we welcome you to this historic unveiling ceremony of our Great Bell."

He continues, "During the course of the year, we have all laboured greatly to build this Great Bell. With its completion, the Great Bell shall serve eternally as a testimony of our greatness in purpose and unity. Our great engineers who designed and executed this Great Bell have done us all a great service. They are our great pride. As such, it is with great happiness that we announce the royal gift of a great cow, with a bell, to each member of the design and building team."

"Yeeaah!" the people cry, clapping and stamping their feet.

"In addition," the king continues, "they shall also receive a black, 3-speed bicycle!"

"Yeeaah!!" the people cheer again.

"And since we all had a hand in this monumental endeavour," the king goes on, "we shall not only wine and dine together at our great palace after this, there will be great gifts of all sorts for everyone!"

"Yeeaah!!!" the people scream.

"With this great endeavour," His Majesty, now really in his royal element continues, "we announce our coming of age to the world. Henceforth, we shall be known by all as a great people, led by a great king, and achievers of great things!"

"Yeeaah!!!!" the people roar.

"Therefore," the great king pauses for a great royal effect, "as I pull this lever, that we might all enjoy the first tones from our Great Bell, I urge you to raise a mighty shout to our greatness!"

His Majesty duly pulls the lever.

BANG!

The Great Bell tolls.

"Yeeeeaaaahh!!!!!" the people thunder.

CRACK! CRACKER-CRACK! CRASH! TWANG! YAKATA! SPLIT! GBOA! WHOOM! GBISH! POOF!

"Ooooh--!"

"Aaargh--!"

"Oh noo--!"

"My good--!"

"What--!"

"Oh my--!"

"Help--!"

"Please--!"

From the land beyond the cliffs, deep in the hinterland, comes word of the total demise of the momentarily great short-sighted and stunted people, on the day of their great achievement.

                                                            --Crispin Oduobuk