Grandma's Bag of Stories Read online

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

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

  ‘That’s true, Meenu,’ Ajji agreed. ‘Kings did need intelligent ministers to show them the right path sometimes. Remember Akbar had Birbal, and Krishnadevaraya had Tenali Rama? Why just kings, we all need someone to tell us if what we are doing is wrong. It could be our parents, grandparents, teachers or even our best friend. The important thing is to listen to them and change our ways when needed.’

  The Enchanted Scorpions

  What an exciting morning the children had had that day! Ajja had asked for their help in cleaning up his old storeroom. Ajja loved to keep all kinds of old things in that room, much to Ajji’s annoyance. She firmly believed the room was the principle attraction for all the cockroaches, mice, termites and other such bugs in the house. Every summer holiday the children spent a day clearing out the room, exclaiming over all the treasures they had unearthed. Ajja even let them keep some of the odds and ends they found. That didn’t please their mothers too much though!

  Today they had found an old wooden box. It was a big box, beautifully carved all over with flowers, and vines and leaves. Inside, it had little compartments to keep all manner of things. Now these compartments were empty, but Raghu, who had been reading Treasure Island, imagined that once these were full of gold and silver coins, gems as big as eggs and all kinds of fantastic jewels.

  After examining the box thoroughly, the children decided that the day’s story had to be about lost treasure. Ajji, who knew a story about anything under the sun, started right away.

  Siddharth was a young, good-natured merchant. Looking for work, he arrived in a village. He liked the people of the village so much that he decided to use all his savings, buy a house and live there forever. While searching for a house, he met Uday.

  Uday was a poor man. His family had once been extremely wealthy landowners but were now not so well off. Uday was looking to sell his old family mansion in order to pay off his family’s loans.

  Siddharth loved the house Uday showed him and bought it immediately. Then he set about repairing the mansion, which was in ruins. As he dug out the old flooring, he found a sealed box buried underground. When he opened it, to his surprise, he saw it was filled with scorpions. He flung the box away in fright.

  That evening, he went to visit the wisest man in the village and asked him about the box of scorpions. The wise man thought for a while, then said, ‘Perhaps Uday’s ancestors hid some money in that box and buried it, to be used when someone in the family needed the money. Over the years they must have forgotten about the existence of the box.’

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

  The old man smiled. ‘The box is protected by an old spell. If it is opened by anyone other than a family member, it will appear as if it is swarming with scorpions. Only a true family member will be able to see that the box contains money.’

  Siddharth was sad to hear this story. He remembered the tears that had sprung up in Uday’s eyes as he had looked back at his ancestral house for one last time before leaving the village. If only he had known about the hidden treasure, he would not have had to sell the house. When Siddharth reached home, he decided to keep the box safely till someone from Uday’s family came to claim it. To make sure that the box was taken only by a true descendant of Uday’s family, he took four scorpions from the box and hung them in four corners of his newly opened shop.

  All his customers would comment when they entered the shop. ‘Siddharth, are you mad? Why have you hung dangerous insects in your shop? Do you want to scare away shoppers?’

  Siddharth would only smile. He knew his goods were the best for miles around, and people would come to shop at his store, scorpions or not. Gradually the shop came to be known as the Scorpion Shop and the villagers laughed at him behind his back. But Siddharth did not care.

  Many years passed. Siddharth was now a middle-aged man with a wife and children and enough money. But he had one regret. No one had come to claim that box.

  One day, a young boy walked into the shop and said, ‘Sir, I have heard from many people in the village that you are wealthy and often help those in need. I had to stop going to school because I could no longer pay my fees. Could you please lend me some money so I can finish my studies?’

  Siddharth shook his head sadly. ‘The villagers have exaggerated about my wealth,’ he said. ‘Yes, I am earning enough, but not so much that I can help you or lend you money, though I would have loved to do so.’

  The boy flared up in anger when he heard this. ‘Sir, if you do not want to help me, please say so openly. Why do you lie? You have so much money that you don’t know what to do with it. Why else have you hung gold coins in the four corners of your shop? Surely you can spare some coins to help a poor student like me.’

  Siddharth stared at him in astonishment. ‘Wh-what? What did you just say?’ he asked, his eyes bulging in excitement.

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

  ‘Yes, yes, I heard that,’ Siddharth cut him short. ‘But what did you say after that, about the gold coins in my shop?’

  The boy now looked at Siddharth doubtfully, afraid that perhaps this excited old man was a bit mad. ‘I said you are so wealthy that you have hung gold coins in the four corners of the shop. There they are, for the world to see!’ And the boy pointed to what appeared to Siddharth as four writhing scorpions.

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

  ‘Are you related to Uday Kamalakar? Did your family ever live in this village?’ he nearly shouted into the boy’s ears.

  The young man stepped back in alarm. Perhaps this rich man was mad and dangerous after all. ‘Y-yes, my name is Uday. I was named after my grandfather. His family lived here for many generations. Then, when they fell on hard times, my grandfather sold his old house and moved. He never recovered from the grief of having to sell his ancestral property and died heartbroken.’

  Siddharth wiped away the tears from his eyes. ‘Wait here, my son,’ he said. Rushing to his house, he came back with the old box and gave it to the young boy. ‘Go on, open it and tell me what you see,’ he chuckled.

  The boy opened the box and his eyes nearly fell out of his head. For he held in his hands more treasure than he could dream about in his wildest fantasies. The box was filled with gold and silver coins and jewels!

  He looked up in astonishment at Siddharth, who was grinning broadly. ‘Yes, it belongs to you,’ Siddharth explained. ‘I have held it safe for many years, hoping someone from Uday’s family will come to claim it. Your troubles are now over. Go home, use the wealth of your ancestors judiciously and do well in life.’

  Then he told the boy the story of how he had found the box which appeared to be filled with scorpions to anyone who did not belong to Uday’s family.

  Uday was amazed when he heard the story. He offered Siddharth half his wealth in gratitude. But Siddharth would hear none of it. ‘This is yours,’ he insisted. ‘Go, enjoy your life.’

  Uday went away with the box, and all his life he remembered the funny, honest old man who had kept his wealth safely for him.

  ‘How lovely, Ajji!’ Krishna gasped. ‘If only we had such a shopkeeper in this town!’ All the children agreed that that would have been such fun. Ajji laughed at their dreamy faces. Then she shooed them out to play in the garden. And do you know what they played till late in the evening? Treasure hunt, of course!

  The Horse Trap

  The next day, there was a surprise summer shower. The land smelled beautiful. The thirsty earth had soaked in every drop of rainwater. The children had been very busy shifting the puppies and kittens, who were roaming in the back and front yards, into the house so that they did not get drenched in the rain. Their respective mothers were very busy shifting the pappadams left to d