Laugh With Ray

Becky: Do you love me with all your heart and soul?

Dave: Uh-huh!

Becky: Do you think I’m the most beautiful girl in the world?

Dave: Uh-huh!

Becky: Do you think my lips are like rose pedals?

Dave: Uh-huh!

Becky: Oh, you say the sweetest things!

**

It’s amazing that the amount of news that happens in the world every day always just exactly fits the newspaper.

Jerry Seinfeld

**

A Jewish man was in St. Vincent’s Hospital recovering from an emergency operation when a nun walked into his room. She was there to cheer up the sick and ailing. The man and nun started talking and the nun asked about the man’s life. The man talked about his wife and 13 children.

“My, my,” said the nun, “13 children . . . You’re a good, proper Catholic family man. God is very proud of you!”

“I’m sorry, Sister,” the man said, “I am not Catholic. I’m Jewish.”

“Jewish!?” she replies and immediately gets up to leave.

“Sister, why are you leaving?”

“I didn’t realize I was talking to a sex maniac!”

**

“Take a bunch of flowers home for your wife, sir,” urged the  

street vendor.  

“I haven’t got a wife,” replied the young man.  

“Then buy a bunch for your sweetheart.”  

“I don’t have a sweetheart, either.”  

“Well then, buy a couple of bunches to celebrate your luck.”  

**

A friend and I were shopping for dresses for her three-year-old girls to wear to a wedding.  In the store, another girl staring intently at Sarah and Becky asked, “Are those girls twins?”

“Actually they’re triplets,” I explained. “They have a brother at home.”

“Wow,” she replied. “They sure look like twins to me.”

**

We were driving our three-year-old son to his Grandma’s home when we stopped at a store.  Once inside, our son decided he wanted one of those large gumballs. I told him he couldn’t have one, and he began to pout.  I leaned over to him and said, “This is a fact of life:  You don’t always get everything you want.”

“I know,” he replied.  “Just don’t tell Gramma.”

**

Scratch a dog and you’ll find a permanent job.

**

My wife treats me like GOD..!

She takes no notice of my existence.. Until she wants something.

**

On the bottom of an office memo:  “If you have any questions, please read again.”

**

Two old ladies sat on a bench talking. One said to the other, “Good heavens! Who did your hair? It looks like a wig!”

The second lady replied, “It is a wig.”

“Really?” exclaimed the first lady, “You could never tell!”

**

End

Source: Ray Mitchell

A Fisherman’s Net And Wit – A (Very) Short Story For Children

King Khusro of Persia was very fond of fish. One morning he was sitting on a terrace with his wife Shirin when a fisherman came in and presented a fish to him. It was large and of a rare kind. The king was quite pleased. He summoned his servants and ordered them to pay a hundred silver pieces to the fisherman.

Shirin was annoyed that the king was gifting away so lavishly. As soon as the man went out of sight and hearing, she said, ‘Look, a hundred silver coins for a fish? Ridiculous. You’re setting up a precedent – you’ll be expected to pay on this scale for all time to come. Now call this man and return the fish to him on some pretext and take the money back.’

‘But dear, it doesn’t become of a king to ask for the money back. Let this pass for now.’

‘This shall not pass. There’s a way to deal with it without appearing to be mean. Call him and ask if this fish is a male or a female. If he says it’s a male, ask for a female and if it’s a female, ask for a male, and cancel the payment.’

Not wanting to displease his dear lady, the king acting upon her counsel called the fisherman back and asked him the question.

The fisherman bowed before the king and said, ‘This fish, my lord, is both male and female, lays eggs all by itself.’

The king burst out laughing. And quite instinctively ordered another hundred silver coins to be given to the fisherman.

As he walked out with the bounty, the man dropped a silver coin that fell and rolled out of sight.

The man stooped down searching high and low for the missing coin. Quite a while later, he managed to find it which he put away safely with great care.

All this happened in full view of the royalty reposing on the terrace.

‘What a mean guy? See how he goes down looking for one measly coin instead of letting it go for some poor man to find it!’ Shirin observed.

The king called the fisherman back and berated him for his meanness:’…with all those coins from me, yet you were not generous enough to let some miserable chap find one…’

The man bowed before the king: ’My lord, if my king picks up from dust a fisherman like me worth nothing, is it any wonder I pick up a coin fallen to the ground? Also, the coin on one side has my king’s image engraved and his name inscribed on another.  How could I abandon the coin to be found god know when if ever. And what is to prevent someone carelessly step on it?’

Amused by his cleverness and wit, the king offered him another hundred silver coins!

The lady had no further counsel to offer in the matter.

End

Source: A story in Chandamama, August, 1955, lightly edited. Image from financialexpress.com

The Story Of Lost Gold, Wild-Cucumber And A Wise King – For Children

Part 1

He was a marginal farmer tilling a small piece of land, never getting enough for living off it. One day he decided enough was enough, he must try something else. So he set out on the road to the capital city of the kingdom.  

In the city he picked up the job of a helper with an old grocer. Over the years he impressed the owner with his hard work, honesty and helpful disposition. So much so, the childless grocer was happy to will the shop to him on his death.

Before long he took over as the shop, expanded his business and made more money.

With the money he had, he would buy gold. He thought it was unsafe to keep the gold at home. From time to time he would go to a near-by forest. Ensuring no one followed him or watched him, he would go to a certain spot amidst the trees, dig up a pot. He would carefully check if the contents were intact and then top it with the newly brought gold, put the pot back in its place and cover it with earth and dried leaves above so well no one would ever give the spot a second look.

He followed the practice for years without any hitch adding more pots over time.

And then…

On one of his visits, the unexpected happened…he found the ground disturbed at that spot. Frantically he dug up; and as he had feared there were no pots and no gold.

At one shot he had lost all his life’s earnings. And there was little he could do. He was absolutely positive no one ever followed him to this place or watched him dig up. It left him with no suspects to chase down.

He sank to the depths of despair. The only course now available to him, he thought, was to end his life.

He went up to the near-by river, waded to its deeper parts and then jumped head-long into its waters, looking neither to the right nor to the left.

It so happened the king of the land was also taking his bath at the same place. He observed what had happened and signalled his men to rescue the man immediately and bring him up.

The king asked him why did he want to end his life.

The man between his sobs narrated the story to the king.

The king was pensive for a while and then asked him how did he mark the place where the pots were hidden.

He said a lone wild-cucumber plant grew on the soil over the pots – he always dug out the pots taking care the plant was not harmed. He added the plant also went missing along with the gold.

A hint of a smile appeared on the king’s face. He assured the grocer he would try his utmost to recover his lost gold. If he did not succeed in his efforts, he would give him some gold from his treasury!

The king’s assurance did not do much to lift up his spirits. How in the world was the king going to find out who took the gold? There were no clues at all. Did the king have some magic mirror that revealed whereabouts of missing things? What would it amount to – the gold to be given by the king, if he did? Would it cover all that he had lost?

He returned home feeling not too sanguine about what was in store for him.

Kids, pause here before you read further. Would you believe if I tell you, all the facts are with you at this point to crack the case open! So think…what would be your tip to the king?

Part 2

Next day, the king complained to his minister about a certain vague tummy ache he felt. And asked him to get all the medical practioners (doctors) in the city to meet up with him. He would like to personally verify if they had treated anyone with symptoms like his.

The doctors were quickly rounded up and sent one by one to meet the king.

To each, the king would ask about the patients they had treated recently, what were their ailments and what were the medicines given as part of the treatment.

After several hours with numerous doctors, the king finally hit pay dirt. This doctor had a patient recently suffering from stomach related problems accompanied by general weakness, just like the king claimed to be going through. And how did he treat him? With the juice made from wild-cucumber, a vine/weed rarely seen in the land. So how did he get it? Well, his servant brought it for him from somewhere.

The servant was summoned. Upon questioning, he admitted to finding pots of gold in the forest. He defended himself – he did not think he was thieving someone else’s gold. It was not in anyone’s possession. He just found it and he took it.

He was persuaded to return the gold to its rightful owner. And was compensated adequately by the king.

Everyone was impressed with the king’s smart sleuthing.

What made the king follow this line of investigation, the minister asked him privately.

The king explained: Since the victim was very confident no one had ever seen him go to the spot or watched him dig, it was clear finder of the gold had not gone to the spot specifically in search for gold. He had no way of knowing gold being hidden there. So the only reason that brought him to the spot was the wild-cucumber plant. The plant is often used by medical practioners to treat stomach related ailments. While fetching the plant, by sheer chance the servant discovered the pots! And you know how he found the servant!

The grocer gave part of the gold to the king’s treasury and some to the servant as a gesture of appreciation.

Did you see it coming?

End

Source: Adapted from a story in Chandamama (July, 1955)

Images: Daily Mail, Toutube, Free Press Journal, facebook and eBay

When Stooping Low Is Fine!

This is based on a snippet that appeared years, rather decades, ago in Reader’s Digest:

Scene: In a shopping aisle of a retail store

A cute old lady sighted a cheaper box of detergent, a brand sourced locally by the store and hence stocked on the top shelf – it was the industry practice. These local brands introduced at the initiative of the store managers usually do not have the budget for more favourable spots.

Not the lady in the anecdote though. See her in the clip below:-)

She went right up and pressing herself against the shelf, taking care not to topple merchandise off the lower shelves, and put out her hands. No luck, she was still many inches short. Raising her heels a little also did not help.

She stepped back in disappointment and stood there wondering what next.

Just then another customer, a tall man, seeing her brief struggle, walked down the aisle to her.

Looking at where her gaze went, he easily reached and pulled out the box from its high perch and handed it over. It was she needed just one.

The lady thanked him gratefully. Feeling compelled to do more, she turned to him:

“Would you be needing anything from here?”

She was pointing at the bottom shelves for him.

**

While some encounters go like this:

or here.

End

Source: vidmo.com

Impossible Made ‘Possible’ – A Tenali Rama Story Never Told Before (For Children)

Part 1

On a lazy afternoon, Raya was relaxing, taking in the sight and the smell of blooming roses and jasmine wafting in from the gardens beyond with Rama in attendance at his bidding. There were no pressing matters of state to keep him engaged.

Rama knew there was trouble just round the bend.

Well, he wasn’t wrong.

‘Rama, you know we have had some difficult times and luckily, it’s all behind us now. Things are rather quiet, like a bunch of trees standing still without a wind to stir up things. The ennui is becoming increasingly unbearable…killing. I would love for you to kick up some excitement…’

So, there it was…not long in coming, trouble in an alluring disguise!

‘Surely, my lord, if you could share with me what you have in mind…I can then take it from there.’

Leaving the field so wide open for Raya’s whims was absolutely foolhardy…but then there little else he could come up with in the instant.

‘I was thinking about it…mmm…how about this? I would like to see something unthinkable, impossible- to happen before me in real. No magic or tricks, please. Can you have something like that presented to me?’

Rama stood without a word like a naked pole waiting mournfully for the storm to pass.

‘I want to be reasonable…’

Reasonable, eh?

‘Yes, take a week’s time and come back with something interesting…am sure it’s not beyond you…’

When he said it, was it a fleeting smirk on Raya’s face? Saying ‘Son, it’ll do you a lot of good to take a fall  once in a while.’?

Rama put on a false bravado and withdrew himself with due courtesies.

Part 2

Four days had passed, yet he was no nearer to a solution. The real kicker was ‘no magic, no tricks.’

He looked suddenly aged.

Try he did – racking his much-vaunted grey cells, pulling hair off his pate – no luck.

The food lost its taste, sleep a distant memory.

He locked himself up in the house, turning away visitors…

On the fifth day…

It was the day of the week for the maid to come in and clean up.

She was shocked to see a disheveled man far from the sprightly person she had known her master to be. The house was turned upside down…things strewn all over the place. Whatever happened? She was hard put to guess. And it would be impertinent to ask.

Maybe it was from his search for ideas that had eluded him so far?

She took time dutifully returning things to their place. Finally, when she was ready to leave, she turned to him and cautioned:

‘Master, keep the back-door locked even during the day as far as possible till it gets warmer. These are days snakes sneak in for warmth, especially to the kitchens, where they curl up near the hearth. Two days ago, in one of those houses in the East Car Street, they found a large snake…something like fifteen feet long from head to tail…luckily, they found it before anyone stepped on it.  Had to be killed…it was poisonous.’

Given the state of his mind, Rama threw a look of incredulity mixed in equal parts with disinterest. Nonetheless…such a large snake? He abhorred snakes, small or big.  Under the circumstances, he would have bolted from the house as far and fast as his legs could carry him.

The maid offered further proof: ‘If you don’t believe…you know the book-keeper’s house, fourth on our left, the blue one? The girl working there is my friend…she told me.  You may check with her if you wish.’

Rama assured her he’ll and he’ll not – he’ll lock the door to keep away unwelcome guests and he’ll not be checking with the girl. He thanked her for her concern.

After a frugal lunch, he rested on the string-cot and fell asleep almost immediately from mental exhaustion.

It was a fitful sleep dreaming of frightful snakes of all shapes and sizes, slithering, hissing, dancing…with the hoods raised in full glory.

When he woke up sweating, he was happy to find himself in safer surroundings. Why did he have these nightmarish dreams? He abhorred snakes, small or big. Then he remembered – it was all the maid’s doing injecting them into his hitherto-snake-free thoughts.

That was also when a seed of an idea insinuated itself into his mind, no more than a straw for a drowning man.

Part 3

It was the day of reckoning:

Rama reached the palace early busying himself with off-stage arrangements – it needed some.

Close to the appointed hour, the host and the guests had gathered.

Raya was excited like a child at a fair. The royal court, filled to capacity, too was agog with anticipation – what kind of a ‘rabbit’ Rama was going to pull off the ‘hat’? Only ‘rabbits’ and ‘hats’ were expressly forbidden.

When everyone settled down to a quiet, Raya stood up to briefly address the audience:

‘I had asked our resourceful Rama to arrange for our viewing pleasure something we know as impossible, contrary to the laws of nature and yet it’ll happen right before us. No magic or tricks, I had said. So, not an easy task. And here we’re for Rama to show us.’

And signaled for the show to commence without further ado.

A veteran of many trials, Rama got down to business, looking his usual self. He called for Lakshmi to appear in their midst, introducing her as his maid who keeps his house in order.

Lakshmi was both surprised looking at a restored Rama and also visibly nervous standing before the august assembly.

Not wanting to prolong her agony,

‘Lakshmi, please tell everyone here what you know about the snake – remember the one you mentioned it to me in your last visit?’

After a few seconds seemingly to gain control of herself and recall the conversation alluded to, the words came out slowly:

‘Yes, master, I warned you about snakes. I told you how a huge snake had entered one of the houses and was killed before anyone got hurt.’

‘Where did this happen?’

‘In a house on the East Car Street.’

‘Oh, the short street with three or four houses…and when did this happen?’

‘Last Tuesday.’

‘You said it was huge, Lakshmi, how large…’

‘Master, it was about fifteen feet long, measured before it was buried.’

‘And how did you come to know about it?’

‘From my friend Padmini…she knew…’

‘Thank you, Lakshmi, what you shared with us was helpful. You may leave now.’

The audience shifted in their seats still clueless what was this business about snakes. Where was Rama headed?

Next, he summoned Padmini who waited in the wings not aware of her friend’s deposition before her.

Her story matched Lakshmi’s – the house was the same one on the East Car Street, the day was last Tuesday – in all details except one. The snake was ten feet long.

Savitri, her friend, followed.  It was a five feet long snake.

And finally, by the time Saraswati from the house on the East Car Street, the scene of ‘crime’, ground zero, stood before them, the audience kind of knew where Rama was going with it.

The hapless reptile was no more than two feet, she averred.

While chuckles rippled in the audience, something was still missing – after all, exaggeration in any cascaded communication was a social phenomenon not entirely unknown.  They were not sated.

Until Rama supplied them the perspective of ‘the impossible’:

‘My lord and gentlemen of the court, now we know it’s ‘possible’ even for the dead to grow!!’

And, took a bow.

Dead silence in the court for a short while and then commotion, albeit muted. It was mighty clever of Rama to put it to them in the way he did, they reluctantly conceded.

It would be another day, if ever, for them to see what they had hoped for – Rama flat on the mat.

Raya was filled with rage when he heard a voice telling him Rama had actually trivialized his wish.  Then another voice in his head said, ‘Be reasonable, did you really expect a miracle to happen?  What else save a miracle would make an ‘impossible’ happen before you? Rama did the next best thing. Thank your stars he’s on your side.’

Raya got up from his seat and walked slowly to Rama with arms open.

End

 

 

 

Source: Inspired by a post from Elango Velur Thiruturaipoondi [facebook.com/profile.php?id=100008754017771]  and image from storyplanets.com

Paranting

After a rough day spent corralling my rowdy kids, I’d had enough.
“I think I’m going to sell them,” I hissed to my sister.
“You’re crazy,” she said.
“For thinking of selling them?”

“For thinking someone would buy them.”

End

 

 

Source: AJokeADay.com (srg) and image from The Odyssey Online

Across The Waters Sans Boat Or Bridge – A Children’s Story Of Tenali Raman’s Wit And Wisdom

The pehalwan from the north was an instant hit. People dropped their jaws watching his amazing acts of physical prowess – he would have a couple of heavy-built locals stand on his out-stretched arm, pull a tree clean off the ground with bare hands or bend iron bars.

It was only a matter of time before he drew the attention of Krishna Deva Raya’s court where he was invited for a display of his strengths before the royalty, senior officials of the court and special invitees. A part of the beautiful palace garden was set up for the show. As a standard courtesy extended to all artistes, on arrival important dignitaries ere personally introduced by Raya to the pehalwan with a few words on who they were. When it was Tenali Raman’s turn Raya went overboard waxing eloquently about his wit. Not given to sharing the stage with anyone else, the pehalwan looked at Raman’s unremarkable presence in a traditional attire, his body language making no secret of where he stood on brawn vis-a-vis brain.  Raya noticed it right away and made light of it cautioning  the pehalwan not to get on the wrong side of Raman.

Introductions concluded, Raya went back to his seat and the pehalwan to his position for commencement of the show. In his opening act he came out cradling a baby, a little large-sized, in his arms; his audience amused at this light-hearted start – a L or XL bear mad with buzzing wasps held in an embrace would have been a more satisfying sight! Soon he was handling the baby like it was a soft-toy, tossing it from here to there, standing it up on his little finger in a ‘Krishna’s Govardhana’ pose, tossing it up overhead and catching it quite nonchalantly. It was in fact a toy for all to see setting everyone at ease – there was no danger to any life. Just when people began to wonder where it was going a wooden table was brought in; and a few of his people joining from the sidelines climbed atop and jumped up and down like they were standing on hot bricks, no one knew why. Were they trying hard to crash the table and failing? The pehalwan holding the baby effortlessly in one hand walked up casually gesturing them to get off. Once the table was clear, he dusted the top with his towel and showing great care and concern laid the baby on its back on the table, seemingly ending the frivolous miming act that no one really understood or even cared.

And perhaps readying himself for his second act, the pehalwan stood a little to the front of the table, taking time to wipe copious sweat streaming off his body. For the first time a few of the onlookers were intrigued – all that sweat in playing with a toy?

Suddenly there was sound like something was crumbling. Next moment they all saw the table crashing down and the baby landing with a thud bringing in a rush the people  who had earlier stomped on the table. They struggled to lift the baby out of the pile of splintered wood. They could not. They devised a rope around its waist and tried to pull with more men joining in to help. The baby wouldn’t budge. All this while the pehalwan stood unperturbed, his face slowly breaking into a hint of a smile.  Finally he stepped forward and shoving aside his men grabbed the baby by its crown and held it aloft on his palm for all to see like it was no more than a soft-toy.

When the penny dropped – this was no ordinary baby to defy the utmost exertions of many and neither was the pehalwan’s feat – he earned a generous round of applause.
And so followed many acts of sheer physical strength that left his audience awe-struck. Like carrying a human pyramid on his shoulders, holding back Raya’s chariot pulled by his prized horses…More than once Raya was seen to be enjoying himself visibly conveying his appreciation. And, so were his guests.

A great show-man he was, the pehalwan played out his acts knowing well how to ratchet up the tempo to a crescendo in a cycle only to be followed by another cycle more challenging, and another, keeping his audience right through on the edge of their seats.
In a final act, he lifted a massive cannon ball of iron and heaved it straight off the palace gardens (of course, landing safely).

As the ovation died down, it was time for Raya to honor the performer suitably and reward the pehalwan with gifts.

Just then, Tenali Raman got up from his seat.

‘My lord, I’ve a small request to make of our esteemed guest. I’m sure it would be easily accomplished compared to the awesome display we saw today.’

The pehalwan confusedly looked at Raya.

Raya gave his nod.

‘Thank you, my lord, for your kind indulgence,’ Raman bowed.

‘It’s like this. Here it is, no cannon ball, only a small piece of cloth. I would like to see it thrown across this stream only a few feet wide. That’s all,’ Raman offered it to the pehalwan with insincere deference.

It was an artificial stream arranged to flow through the garden, fed from the fountains.

Too full of himself with the adulation showered on him, the pehalwan, seemingly exasperated  at the ridiculousness of the exercise, snatched the piece of cloth without a thought from Raman’s hand, made a mock show of bending down under its weight and then, crushing it in his hand, threw it across the stream with all his might as it were. He felt it was quite beneath him to even turn around to check on the outcome. Alas, for him, the piece of cloth, as it would, sailed through the air no further than a couple of feet  before being blown adrift by the mild breeze and dropping down in a crazy swirl into the stream.

Raman was at hand giving the stunned pehalwan another piece of cloth. Again, the result was no different. It was then the pehalwan realized the impossibility of the situation and his own folly in making the attempts.

When a third piece was offered, he shoved it back into Raman’s hands with a gesture that said: ‘All right, Smarty, I got suckered in.  It’s now your turn; try getting out of it, eh?’

Raman was clumsy dropping  the piece of cloth to the ground. He then picked it up, rolled it into a ball, muttered some mantra’s and sent it across the stream. And lo, there it sailed all the way like a cannon ball landing on the far side almost going out of sight.

How did he do it? When and from whom did he learn mantra’s? Raya was dazed as everyone was. The pehalwan fared the worst looking like someone punched him hard in his gut knocking him out of breath.

But first things first. A large-hearted and wise Raya did not allow Raman’s side-show to take the shine off the pehalwan’s hitherto awesome display of muscle power, bestowing on him the honors, words of praise and gifts rightly due to him. A mortified pehalwan made his peace with Raman – no use crossing swords with a guy who pulls potent mantra’s from his scabbard.

It was then Raman leaked out the secret of his mantra’s – there was no mantra’s, no secret. The ball of cloth that he threw across the stream had a pebble inside making the flight perfectly possible. He had picked it up along with the cloth that he had dropped on purpose.

Why did Raman let the cat out of the bag?

If it were not debunked at the earlies, he feared, people including Raya would want him on occasions to invoke those and other mantra’s for causes right or wrong. He would be held up to ridicule for failures, much worse, his loyalty questioned, despite his protestations of innocence and ignorance.

At this the pehalwan could not help laughing over his own imbecility and Raman’s wit. Preparing to leave the town, he gifted his emblematic silver bracelet to Raman and invited him to his home-land to learn from him some real mantra’s.

End 

Source: www, animationxpress.com

When Vidakandan Meets Kodakandan…A Story For Children

Kodakandan was known for not giving away while Vidakandan, his perfect foil, for not giving up.

A number of tales hang around the two just as with Akbar and Birbal, Tenali Raman and Krishnadeva Raya….

This one is about one of their earliest encounters before they teamed up in activities that never did their mothers proud:

The annual fair attracted large number of visitors as always, mainly farmers, from neighboring villages.

The business was brisk for the traders in stalls peddling their wares – clothes, toys, utensils, appliances, groceries…And there were other attractions too – fancy photo-shoots, games and rides and eateries.

Like dog attracts fleas, so these fairs pulled both the Kandan’s prospecting for easy meal.

This time, Kodakandan set himself up like a vaidya (medical practitioner) offering rare herbs and medicines to cure a variety of ailments from common cold to terminal cancer.  He put up a sign outside that said: “Baba from the Himalaya’s: Get your treatment for Rs 50, and if not cured, get back Rs 100!” The lure was risk-free for him  simply because he usually prescribed a treatment that would run for several months to show while the fare wound up within ten days; whence he would ostensibly ‘return’ to his habitat in the Himalaya’s to continue with his research and meditation.

On the second day of the fair, by a quirk of fate, Vidakandan found himself standing in front of Kodakandan’s table and tent, reading the sign. This was god-sent it seemed after an unusually prolonged dry spell of no ‘fish’.

He went in seizing the chance with two hands: ‘Anna, I’ve lost all taste in my mouth. Can you please help me?’

‘Not after you’ve come to me, Thambi (little brother). Kutta, please bring medicine from the green bottle and put three drops in his mouth.’

‘Aaagh!! — This is kerosene!’

‘Congratulations!  I told you – you’ve got your taste back. That will be fifty rupees.’

An annoyed Vidakandan went back the next day after a sleepless night figuring to recover his money.

‘I’ve lost my memory, Anna. I can’t remember much.’

‘Kutta, please bring medicine from the blue bottle and put three drops in the patient’s mouth.’

‘Oh, no, you don’t, that’s kerosene!’

‘Congratulations! You’ve got your memory back! That will be fifty rupees.’

Vidakandan left angrily and came back after a couple of days, more determined than ever to settle scores with Kodakandan.

‘Anna, your medicines are a miracle. My eyesight has become weak – I can hardly see anything! I’m sure I can get it back with your help.’

‘As long as you have a fifty on you, Thambi, there isn’t much this Anna cannot handle. Kutta, bring medicine from the red bottle and put three drops in his eyes.’

‘I still can’t see anything, Anna, Please do something.’

‘Just hold. Kutta, bring medicine from the yellow bottle and put three drops into his eyes.’

‘Anna, it’s no better…’

This went on for two more rounds apparently doing little to improve Vidakandan’s eye sight.

A crest fallen Kodakandan finally admitted: ‘Well, I don’t seem to have the right medicine for your eyes presently. As promised, here are your hundred rupees.’

‘But this is only a fiver…’

‘I knew the medicine was right. Only you were getting a little impatient. Congratulations! You can see now.  That will be fifty rupees.’

Vidakandan knew he was licked. He would rather wait for his day.

End

 

 

 

 

 

 

Source: Inspired by Jerry Lambert

A Cure For Baldness (A Children’s Story)

One day as he stood before the mirror, the Raja of Rangapuram was dismayed to find hair on his head thinning rather rapidly. At this pace he would go completely bald in a matter of a few months. Would his subjects then look at his stately presence with the same awe? This was serious.

He immediately called the Royal Vaidhya (the medicine man) for consultation. The Vaidya ingenuously advised the Raja there was no real cure for recovering the lost ground. The Raja would not take no for an answer. He instructed the Vaidhya to assemble all the medicine men of standing in the kingdom and find a solution. Else the Vaidhya would spend time with them in jail.

So very discreetly the message went out to all parts of Rangapuram calling seasoned medicine men to report at the Vaidhya’s house.

And when they did assemble, the Vaidhya explained the predicament.

Within minutes they all agreed with the Vaidhya’s assessment. But the mulish Raja would not be convinced. The threat of being jailed preyed on their mind. They even took breaks to see if any fresh ideas emerged on possible line of treatment.

No help.

Now their main worry was how to escape incarceration much less find a cure the Raja’s ‘affliction’. They scratched their heads to no avail.

At this time, a young man stood up. Who let him in? He seemed too raw to be amidst them. And not just that – he even claimed quite preposterously he had a solution.

He drew a round derisive laughter and a cynical ‘Is that so?’

Not ready to be put down, he continued: ’I’m quite serious. I can bail us all out of trouble.’

A resigned voice perfunctorily inquired: ’Mind telling us how?’

‘I’m sorry it can’t be any other way. I can share my cure only with the Raja himself in person.’

Not even a ripple. Despair induced weariness all around.

‘Believe me, it’ll work. Take me to the Raja and see for yourself. You’ll thank me for it.’

More silence.

Finally the Vaidhya spoke: ‘I say, let’s do like he says. What have got to lose? It can’t get any worse.’

‘Oh, it can. When the Raja figures out we got a rookie to treat him, there’ll be heads to pay.’

The medicine men did not warm up the Vaidhya’s suggestion.

Finally it was decided the Vaidhya would by himself take the young man to the Raja on the following day and others would stay back at the Vaidhya’s house and await their fate that presently appeared far from sanguine.

The Vaidhya sought and obtained a private audience with the Raja and introduced the young man with whatever little enthusiasm he could muster.

One look at the young man and the Raja was not pleased. Only the Vaidhya’s fervent plea for his continued indulgence saved the young man from being thrown out right away.

The cold reception did nothing to disconcert the young man.

On cue he spoke up: ‘My Lord, I’m certain I’ve a solution to your agony.’

It elicited a low-key disinterested grunt. A bee buzzing a rose in the garden hogged the Raja’s attention.

‘Sir, I’ve this potion made of rare herbs’ extracts. This must be applied every morning on the head an hour before bath. This imposition, agreeably inconvenient, would not be for more than four weeks. For some even ten days were good enough. Why, my own grandfather would vouch for it if he was here. He used it on his mirror-shine dome for only two weeks and…’

‘And what…’ the Raja leaned forward, mildly piqued. The bee was out of sight.

‘Sir, unfortunately, he died fracturing his skull…he tripped on the lush locks of hair that cascaded down from his crown like Ganges from Lord Shiva’s’.

The young man then turned to the Vaidhya: ‘Sir, you may want to recall the royal barber and ask him to be ready with his blades and scissors.’

His bravado finally found its mark.

What was he prattling? It was all unbelievable, almost like magic, the Raja thought. And he also claimed there was even someone to vouch for all of it, never mind the beneficiary wasn’t presently available…Well, the young man looked innocent and so incapable of lying. There must be something in it…The boy dare not pull a scam on the Raja for he would certainly know what the consequences would be, if he did…No harm in giving it a try.

The Raja not entirely without apprehension took the proffered potion, issued a stern warning against charlatanry and dismissed the audience of two with an agenda to review the situation after two weeks.

As he was being shown out, the young man turned to the Raja: ‘I’m sorry I missed telling you this, Sir. A condition for the potion to be effective. Trivial, so trivial I find it embarrassing to even mention it. But I must. You would find the results gratifying only if you do not do not think of a monkey when applying it on your head. Really, a cinch for you, Sir. Calls for far less effort than shooing away a fly that dares to sit on the royal nose.’

Somber mood prevailing, his flippancy was roundly ignored.

Next morning, the Raja took out the potion like some jewel from a secret cache. As he began applying on his head, he remembered the young man’s injunction. And with it a monkey entered his mind. This wasn’t going to work, he was warned. He decided to break off distracting himself for a while with the affairs of his kingdom. When he returned after an hour to his potion, the monkey too returned. He didn’t know if it was the same one, they’ll looked so much alike.

Try as he might, the monkey was equally stubborn. And when it did go away for a moment, its place was taken by one of its brethren.

What was to be a child’s play now turned into a monkey sport, certainly not the entertaining kind.

So much so it was threatening to become an obsession with the Raja even at other times, adversely and often hilariously affecting his public and personal image and life, the monkey becoming the sole tenant of his mind. Within a few days, the officials at the royal court were quite worried the Raja may soon become unhinged. Should they call in exorcists? The risk was word may get around.

The Royal Vaidhya was one who could think through clearly yet. He summoned the young man and angrily asked him if he had cast a spell on their Raja. If the monkey was not taken out at the earliest, he would personally arrange for the young man to be hanged in public, nay, in private.

‘And leave the monkey with the Raja forever? Don’t be foolish. Take me to the Raja,’ the young man wasn’t perturbed. His demeanor hinted the proceedings were not entirely unexpected.

He saw the Raja, a barely recognizable shadow of his old stately self, desperately in need of help.

‘Dear Sir, there’s nothing wrong with you at all, I assure you. I’ll get you all right in a moment. All you’ve to do is to throw away the potion and say, standing in front of the mirror, ‘I don’t need you at all now or ever. I’m good and happy as is.’ ‘

So the monkey was drawn out finally and laid to rest.

Everyone in the know sighed in relief the medicine men included.

The Vaidhya arranged a job for the young man in the palace just in case…

End  

 

 

Source: Adapted from tamil-kutti-kathaikal.blogspot.in, thanks to N Udayakumar.

PS: Some new words are thrown in for children’s vocabulary enrichment.

 

Tenali Raman And The Vidooshak (A Story For Children)

Once hearing about Tenali Raman’s wit and wisdom, a neighboring king requested Krishna Deva Raya to send Raman to his royal court for some days. Raya could not refuse.

Raman was received warmly on his arrival and given a seat of honor with a generous introduction at the court by his host. Predictably it aroused envy in the hearts of the native officers. They bided their time for the right opportunity to pull Raman down from his high pedestal. At the same time they had to be cautious not to offend their king as Raman was a guest of the state.

Their wait was not long. An evening of entertainment was arranged at the court to greet the arrival of Spring. The officers planned to use the court vidooshak (jester) for their purpose. It suited them well for a vidooshak’s acts were never considered seriously and there was no risk of earning the king’s ire

That day the program was well underway with a rich fare of songs, dances, skits, acrobatics, mimicry and magic show. When it was his turn, a roar of expectation from the audience greeted the vidooshak for the last act of the evening. He quickly launched himself with practiced virtuosity of a seasoned artiste.  The contemporary events provided him with ample scope for topical humor interspersed with fun moments around stereotypes at home, at the shop, on the street and even at the court. No doubt the crowd was immensely enjoying it as was the king, seen more than once laughing aloud. Raman too was appreciative of the jester’s antics.

In the final moments of his act, without warning, the vidooshak invited or rather pulled a surprised Raman to the center stage.

A sweeping look at the king, the audience and finally resting on Raman, ‘Dear Sir, you don’t mind helping me with this small act?’

A rhetoric that needed no reply.

‘Sir, I seek your indulgence for the next few minutes. Kindly do the opposite of what I’m doing. Won’t you, please?’

‘Here I stand, please sit.’

A dazed Raman obliged.

‘I open my eyes, kindly close yours.’

Followed by ‘I laugh, would you cry for us, Sir.’

By now Raman recovered his wit; deciding to play along, he gave out a feisty howl that caused the vidooshak to miss his steps.

‘Thank you, Sir,’ the vidooshak said in a mock bow, not betraying his surprise at Raman’s ready and rather animated participation. ‘Now you’ve warmed up, Sir, let’s move to more interesting stuff.’

The vidooshak brought in two picture stands and placed them in full view. The first one had a portrait of a man who had a remarkable resemblance to the king. The other portrait showed a  man looking generally annoyed at life.

‘Sir, these men are real, present here in their portraits.’

He spoke about the first portrait: ‘This man as one may guess is of noble birth and immense wealth, a man in god’s own mold…,’ waxing eloquently on his virtues particularly on his generosity towards the less fortunate.

And pointing to the second, pillorying him at length: ‘Well, a man without anyone to call his own, still amassing wealth through usurious lending, he is everything what the other man is not. It’s said there isn’t a crow, a pigeon or a field mouse in this land that has till date taken a grain off him…’

When he was done, on cue, two rose-garlands were brought. With elaborate ceremony, he took one and garlanded the first portrait.

‘Sir, it’s your turn,’ in mock deference.

Did he have a choice? Do or don’t, either way he was damned, it seemed.

Without hesitation, Raman picked up the second garland and arranged it neatly over the second portrait. And, stood there casting a mischievous glance all around.

A gleeful vidooshak saw Raman fair and square in his trap: ‘Honestly, Sir, we’re shocked – I’m sure our majesty too joins me when I say this. Perhaps you saw some merit in him that remained completely indiscernible to one and all in this august assembly. Could you kindly enlighten us on the same?’

‘Oh, that’s simple,’ Raman paused for effect.

All necks craned forward in hushed silence to catch his words.

‘Well, this man of noble birth of course had shared his wealth with others – a very laudable gesture.’ Raman sneaked a glance at the king nodding in approval.

‘But look at the other guy. He denied himself his own wealth living a miserly life unlike the man of noble birth who did enjoy his besides being generous; and the miserable fellow is destined to leave everything he has for others after his time with none to bequeath to;.again, quite unlike the man you garlanded with offspring’s to enjoy their inheritance thereafter.’

A few moments of silence for the words to sink in followed by a long burst of applause from the audience lead by the king himself, thrilled to see the legendary Raman best his poor adversary.

End

Source: Inspired by a story from bhagavatam-katha.com and image from dailymotion.com