How does one know a man for what he truly is? How does one recognize his real virtues? Who is it who can? Who really knows? And even if one knows, how does one know for certain? Because of this uncertainty, in our country it is the robes of the man which are worshipped, not the man himself. People bow down before these robes. Prostrate themselves. For these robes hide a man’s worst sins. These robes are a certificate of virtue that even the illiterate can recognize. Usually it’s the laziest, most worthless idlers who are drawn to these saffron robes – their begging bowls fill up without an ounce of work. Some commit outright thuggery in the name of the saffron cloth. Surely, there’s no easier way to make a living. As long as there are people to worship these saffron threads, they will always provide a vocation with great scope. You’ll find plenty of those who indulge all their wildest fantasies under cover of such cloth. Many use it as a refuge from their troubles and suffering. Such robes offer them the cool shade of peace and happiness. Some get caught in the subtle warp and woof of the various religious sects and don such robes in the name of faith. Which teaches us that one should not trust herbs just because they have been pounded, or a man just because he has taken a vow. Those who are discerning are not taken in by a man’s holy robes.

Once years ago, a mahatma in saffron robes set up camp in a certain village. He had with him a group of robust-looking disciples. The villagers there were illiterate, simple-minded rustics who had utmost reverence for Bhagwan, the Supreme Atma, moksha, etc. Where else would you find a crowd riper for thuggery? It doesn’t take a lot to con someone who’s already bowing low before the guru without a clue as to who and what. It doesn’t matter how many times the lamp shakes its head and tells the moths to stay away, they keep diving into the flame. And so it was that this saffron-robed mahatma developed a certain penchant for the trappings of dharma. The more he would insist that people were wasting their time coming to him, the more they would come. So many times he had refused to take on more disciples, and still there would be a line of them gathered at his feet.

He would say to them, “I am not an enlightened man. I like the colour of these robes, that is all. Believe me, it’s nothing more than that. I am a wandering yogi. My astrological signs show I am destined to wander from place to place. You do your work in this world and I will do mine. I don’t interfere in your life, why do you interfere in mine?” What kind of devotees wouldn’t follow a guru like this? More gathered to be his disciples. They felt blessed to be in the presence of such a worshipworthy mahatma. This mahatma had another claim to fame – before taking on a disciple, he would have him renounce something. Someone gave up eggplant. Another, onions. Someone gave up touri root, another kaddu squash, and a third cucumber. Many took vows to abstain from having milk, yoghurt, or amchur. Someone said he would not eat at night. Another vowed not to eat with anyone else. One gave up savouries, another gave up sweets, but very few gave up tobacco, hash, ganja, opium or liquor.

Now there was a thief in this village who was quite famous. He worked at night and slept during the day. When the din of so many people taking vows of renunciation reached his ears, he felt as if ants were crawling up his legs he became so antsy. Lying on his cot, he thought of a way to test the mahatma. At exactly noon he got up, rubbed his eyes awake and marched straight down to the mahatma’s camp. The throngs of disciples were fewer at this hour. He touched the mahatma’s feet and said, “Make me your disciple too.”

The mahatma said, “You must know that this involves taking a vow. I don’t take anyone as a disciple unless he is ready to renounce something.”

“If I vow never to take anyone else as my guru, then will you make me your disciple?”

The mahatma had seen thousands of disciples through this process, but he had never had to contend with such a mind-twister. It felt as if someone had slapped him across the face with a dried-out shoe. But he wasn’t one to come up blank when it came to the cleverness department. He had encountered plenty of clever so-and-sos like this in his life. So he pulled himself up, put on his best smile and said, “Son, what need is there for you to become a disciple?”

“The need is there, I know. Everyone else comes before you and renounces just one thing, but I am ready to renounce four. First, I will never climb into a queen’s bed. Second, I will never eat from a platter of gold. Third, I will never ride on an elephant in a golden litter. And fourth and biggest of all, I vow that I will never become king in this lifetime. Now if you would please do the honours.”

The mahatma’s temper flashed so hot it turned to ash. But what could he do? Even the most violent and willful water buffalo stays in place once fettered. No, he could not stray from the path to which he was bound. But he had to teach this one a lesson. If he got angry now, he’d be the one to suffer the consequences. So the mahatma forced himself to smile once more and said, “I have never in all my years encountered a disciple like you. I would be proud to be your guru. Since you have already offered to renounce four things of your own accord, I wonder if you’d consider one more at my behest.”

“How could I not? Your slightest whim is my obligation. If you should order me to stop breathing, by your good grace I still would not die.”

This disciple was certainly one of a kind! The mahatma’s brow furrowed in consternation. He was so furious he was ready to make this chandaal take that very oath! But what would people think? Now this charade would go on for years. How much had he suffered anyway? Till now, all he’d ever done was sit before the penitential fires. He thought, what oath can I make him take that will make him drop all his bravado in a few days? It had been years since he’d taken his vows. He’d met all the big mahatmas, but never seen anyone that could live without lying. How could an ordinary householder ever manage to fulfill an oath like that? It wouldn’t be long before this upstart would be ruing his fate. The mahatma said, “If, in addition to the four vows you have already taken, you also agree to renounce telling any form of lie for the rest of your life, to me it would be like making gold smell sweet.”

But that thief was quite something, I tell you! He agreed as soon as the words were out of the guru’s mouth. He said, “Only you would know if this would make gold smell sweet, but I promise you that I will never again tell a lie.”

“Look, if you don’t live up to this oath, it won’t just reflect badly on you but on me as well. You must watch your words when you make any such promise or oath. Renouncing lies is no joke.”

The thief thumped his chest and said, “Don’t worry. If you have any other reason to be concerned about your reputation, then that responsibility is yours, but your good name will certainly not be tarnished on my account. Thieves like myself never risk losing our good name, because we don’t have one. We’ve given up all thought of honour even before we left our mothers’ wombs. I’ve been lying ever since I learnt to talk. I must have told as many lies as a thousand men put together, but it hasn’t made me happy. Before now, whatever I uttered has been lies, and whatever I haven’t has been the truth. It won’t be hard to do the opposite – from now on, whatever I say will be the truth, and whatever I don’t say will be a lie. You are only asking for me not to lie with my tongue. That I can agree to.”

So, even though the mahatma didn’t want to take on this disciple, he had to. He tied a sacred thread onto the thief ’s left wrist and the thief gave him a coconut. It was certainly not much of a hardship – becoming a disciple for the price of a coconut!

Now a merchant can hardly ply his trade without lying, and here this man was an outright thief. But he had to support himself somehow. If big folks could travel to distant lands for business, then so could he to ply his trade. So in tattered clothing and worn out shoes he set out for distant lands. He walked and walked and walked, and finally arrived in a new kingdom. The dark cloak of evening had just descended. He heard the sound of the evening aarti bell from a nearby temple and joined the crowd of devotees. When the aarti finished, the other devotees left for their homes, but he kept standing before the image. Where else could he spend the night but here in this clean, beautiful temple? It wasn’t just an image of stone but one imbedded with diamonds and pearls. To the Impartial Lord, these diamonds were as pebbles. It was only in the eyes of man they appeared so precious.

The temple pujari looked the new devotee over. Torn clothes. Worn shoes. Immersed deep in devotion, drinking in the Lord’s image. He asked, “Who are you, brother? Where have you come from?”

Startled, he looked up at the pujari, then answered, “I am a thief. I have just arrived today.”

The pujari laughed and asked, “What brings a thief to a temple?”

“Thieving. What else would a thief do in a temple?”

“You fool, lying straight to my face?! I have been the pujari here for fifty years. A man’s soul only the Supreme Being can fathom. But I can at least glean something from a man’s appearance. Thieves never tell the truth even if you beat them for all they are worth. You must be some sort of aghori devotee. And you have come to test me. But I have no fear. I’ll emerge pure. Look, the good Lord who resides within us all is smiling just to hear you.”

The thief stared intently at the pujari. White hair. White beard. Toothless mouth. A tilak of sandalwood paste down the middle of his brow. A rudraksh string of beads around his neck. He told him, “I am a thief. Whether you believe it or not, it’s up to you. If Bhagwan smiled at what I said, that’s his choice. I want to spend the night here. Do you mind?”

The pujari came over and embraced him. His eyes started to spill over with tears. He kept his arms wrapped around him and said, “O Dinbandhu, Friend of the Poor, today my long years of devotion have been rewarded. And it is in this guise that you manifest Yourself to me? What does it matter if my eyes have grown old and shrivelled, my inner eyes are still quite keen. Oh how could I not recognize You?!”

The thief had a hard time stifling his laughter. The pujari, believing him to be Bhagwan incarnate, left the temple in his care and went to the back room to sleep. The devotees had offered priceless diamonds and pearls. And Bhagwan himself had come to take them! Now that these offerings had been received by Bhagwan himself, would their future offerings increase or decrease?

This thief was so adept he could steal people’s clothes right off them while they slept. How could he have left anything behind here? It wasn’t the most thrilling as far as thieving went, but then never before had such riches fallen into his hands. Diamonds. Pearls. A parasol of solid gold. He’d certainly done well by not lying! He’d spent his whole life telling more lies than he could count, and what had he got? Nothing but suffering. Even stale roti was a luxury. People had beaten him to pulp, but he wouldn’t admit to a single theft.

If people always tasted such sweet success in foreign lands, rich folk would soon start abandoning their ancestral estates faster than a heartbeat. At four in the morning he left the temple, the god, and the pujari to their own devices, and went on his way.

When he got back to the village, he melted down the parasol of gold with his own two hands. He put the diamonds and pearls in a container and buried it deep in a field somewhere, carefully noted the bushes and shrubs nearby, then went straight to the goldsmith. He gave the goldsmith his due share of the gold, then had him make a gem necklace of seven strands, earrings, diamond rings and a bracelet. Next he went to the tailor to have a splendid outfit sewn. Then he bought an Arabian horse from the local thakur for five thousand rupees.

The leelas of wealth are certainly most unusual. At the slightest hint of anything fancy, people would usually start asking what horrible deed he had done to get this. They knew very well he would die before he ever told them the truth. So they’d go ahead and make pulp out of him anyway. And now that he was ready to tell the truth to one and all, no one so much as asked from where he had got all these fine things! Gold that sparkled so bright even the sun was dazzled. What kind of heist would ever bring in such riches? Must have dealt a major hand, or made some big business deal.

After a few days had dragged by, he saddled his windswift horse and set off once more towards distant lands, gold bracelet on wrist. How long does such a journey take when you have a fine, spirited mount? He set himself up in a big city the very next day. He whiled away the afternoon in a garden and arrived at a haveli owned by one of the city’s big seths just as darkness was setting in. Why bother looting places you couldn’t even mention? If you wanted a big heist, you had to go to a big house.

The merchant had finished his evening meal and returned to his sitting room before it grew dark. He was huffing and heaving and so lay down to steady his breath. When he heard an unfamiliar cough he called out, “Who’s there?”

“A thief.”

Just hearing the word made his spirit fly away. He sat up in panic. He was so short of breath he couldn’t even yell for help. But as soon as he saw the thief, the seth calmed down. Even he didn’t have so much jewelry! And a gold cane nonetheless. He smiled and said, “My good man, why did you frighten me calling yourself a thief? Anyone can recognize a thief even by his shadow. Do you take me for such a fool? I can spot in a second who’s a thief and who a man of means.”

The thief laughed heartily and said, “Well then, Sethji, your eyes must be completely misguided. I’m telling you quite clearly that I am a thief and I’ve come to rob your haveli. If you don’t believe me, it’s up to you. Well then, why don’t you tell me who you think I am?”

The seth grabbed his hand and pulled the thief closer, saying, “Come sit near me. I’m only meeting you for the first time today, but I’ve heard your name enough to recognize you as soon as I laid eyes on you. It’s true, my sight is a bit weak, which is why it took me this long. Please don’t misconstrue.”

The seth looked him up and down. Appraised his jewellery. What use was there in touching such gold to test its purity? He laughed, “Yes, it is you – Ujjain’s biggest jeweller. My good man, what sin have I committed that you haven’t graced this lowly hearth before? Oh well, today you have done me the honour, and that’s enough. I’m going to show you such priceless diamonds and pearls, rubies, sapphires, emeralds and gems that you will remember them for a lifetime! You can search this whole wide world for Shesh Nag’s true jewels – you won’t find them anywhere else but here.”

The wealthy merchant then grabbed the famous Ujjain jeweller by the hand and despite his protests dragged him to his haveli at once. He opened up three safes and by the light of his torch, began showing the jeweller each of the extraordinary jewels in them one by one. “For now, just glance through them. Tomorrow you’ll be able to inspect them in the good light of day. I don’t need to tell you their value. Simply put whatever amount you deem appropriate into your scarf and hand it to me. You know their value better than I do. Who dares hold a lamp to the sun? Perhaps you’re worried you don’t have enough to pay me right now. But I’m not such a barbarian. Just make the payment within six months. Please take with you any jewels that find favour with you.”

“How can stolen merchandise be weighed in terms of favour or disfavour? You shouldn’t say such things. I won’t leave a single one behind. You took the trouble to show them to me so I won’t have trouble finding them. I am greatly obliged to you for going out of your way.”

The seth burst out laughing and kept chuckling as he said, “I’d only heard about your penchant for jokes and pulling pranks. But today I am seeing it for myself.”

The seth begged the jeweller from Ujjain to spend the night in his haveli. He had a thirty-two dish feast prepared, which he himself served on silver platters. For his part, the jeweller was paying close attention to where the silver eating table, silver platters, and gold dishes were stored. The seth awoke early. But the jeweller had been up a good two hours before, saddled up his horse and ridden off. When the seth went to wake his guest up, he saw the bed was empty. He called out loud and louder, but all he heard in response was the clattering of hooves. He waited, thinking he’d gone to relieve himself and would return any minute. But return he didn’t, and wasn’t meant to. In the morning when the sun rose over the town, the seth’s haveli was shrouded in darkness. The seth complained to the king, a plaint punctuated with plenty of “Hai! Hai!” and “Tauba! Tauba!” But after the king had heard the whole story, he made a clear judgement against chasing the thief. Instead, he lashed out at the seth: “When the poor thief told you again and again that he was a thief, why didn’t you believe him? Such an honest thief should be rewarded!” When the seth heard such nonsense, his well-maintained composure dropped. The chandaal didn’t leave so much as a trace of gold behind! The seth was in a bad way after losing all his riches.

And meanwhile the thief was in a bad way after coming into all these riches. He kept thinking, What am I going to do with all this? He could spend day and night pouring it down the drain, and still it wouldn’t run out. How much does one man need after all? He had a three-storey haveli built for himself. Bought a few cows so he could have fresh milk and curds every day. Five or seven purebred horses for his stable. Clothes, pots, pans and beds, he had all that from before. In good times and bad, happy times or sad, he helped out the poor. Whoever came to his haveli asking would always receive a reply in kind, never in mere words. He donated a sizeable sum for setting up public drinking facilities and rest houses. But he didn’t really want to do anything other than what his family had done for generations. What could possibly compare to a job like this? Before this, he hadn’t had the right touch. All he knew was how to get his bones broken. He had a hard time even getting two meals a day. He was in the very same profession as before, but how people respected and revered him now! They acted like the greatest of sycophants. No one even asked him where all his riches had come from. Now he understood that stealing and thieving weren’t crimes, only being poor was. Poverty was the biggest crime of all. The leelas of wealth are certainly most unusual. You could hide every last crime, sin and injustice under these parasols of power.

Now if he could only loot the royal treasury, he’d be content. He didn’t need any more riches of course, but how could he just sit there doing nothing? How could he throw away his talent just like that? So he donned the same splendid outfit, carried the same cane of gold, and rode the same windswift horse. At the ramparts of the fort the royal guards halted him, “Who are you and what brings your grace here?”

He didn’t bother dismounting from his horse as he replied, “I am a thief and I have come to rob the royal treasury. Stop me if you can.”

The guards recognized him at once, and so conducted themselves with utmost decorum. A thief, and so distinguished? If he had really been a thief, he would have arrived in stealth. And this man didn’t even dismount from his horse! Such regal robes. Expensive jewellery. A magnificent Arabian steed. He must be royalty. They humbly folded their hands and implored, “Huzur, what right have we to dare stop you? Your wish is our command.”

He entered the fort and reached the principal gateway. The guards prostrated themselves before him and murmured, “Khamaghani.” He proceeded on. The guard at the seventh gate was the most adamant of all. He folded his hands and explained, “It is absolutely forbidden to go further without permission from Rajaji. If you would like to make a petition, I will present it to his Highness. May I enquire as to who you are and how is it that you grace us?”

“I am a thief and I have come to rob the royal treasury. Stop me if you and your Rajaji can. Do what you must.”

Inside, the guards worried that this visitor was angry at being stopped and questioned. They’d heard there was a new minister; perhaps this was him. Otherwise who else could afford to be so pompous? They folded their hands right up to their elbows and said, “Lord, there must have been a mistake, we beg your forgiveness. What an outrage, daring to stop you this way.”

He smiled and proceeded on. The guards assumed this meant they had been forgiven.

He went from the gate directly to the treasury where he drew his horse to a halt and dismounted. The treasurer heard the whinnying of the horse and came outside, and with folded hands said, “I didn’t recognize Huzur!”

He replied at once, “What opportunity can there be to recognize someone you have never laid eyes on before? I am a thief and I have come to rob the royal treasury.”

The treasurer realized this must be the new minister. He had come to inspect the treasury and it annoyed him not to be recognized. That’s why he was being so harsh. Now the treasurer was sure to lose his job. He stuttered and trembled as he said, “O Protector of the Poor, blindness is as good as ignorance. My eyesight is a little weak on account of my advanced years.”

Then the treasurer undid the keys from his waist and presented them to the new minister. It all happened just as the thief would have wished. He took the keys and walked straight in, leaving the treasurer trembling at the door. He didn’t need the money. He just had to be able to say that he had robbed the royal treasury. So he pocketed five pearls and returned the keys to the treasurer.

No one stopped him on his way out. As soon as he stepped outside the last gate, he escaped on his windswift horse. One moment the guards were watching the clouds of dust kicked up by the horse, and the next instant it had disappeared right before their eyes.

Before signing out the new minister with an official stamp, the treasurer checked the treasury once more. Five pearls missing! Surely he had made a mistake in counting. He counted again. Then counted a third time. Five pearls missing. How could this be? Arey! It must have really been a thief! Bhagwan only knows how Rajaji would punish him. He felt like screaming when suddenly a clever idea struck him. He thought, there has been a robbery. The entire blame is going to fall on the thief. Who is going to believe a word a thief says? So the treasurer tucked five more pearls into the folds at his waist. Then he began to shout as loud as he could, “Thief! Thief! Thief!”

The guards and the soldiers of the fort spend all their time waiting just for something like this to happen. As soon as they heard the cry they came running from wherever they stood. Before long they were raising a real racket in the treasury. They banded together and went before the king. The treasurer narrated the whole story and then cried, “O Annadaata, if thieves are going to dress like noblemen and come down to the kingdom’s treasury in broad daylight, striding about chests puffed out, even Bhagwan himself couldn’t guard it from them. Much less someone like me!”

All the guards corroborated the treasurer’s story. They folded their hands and pleaded, “O Protector, we are no longer able to do our jobs. If big, important folk start going around thieving, who will take responsibility of keeping watch? And besides, if they say straight out, We are thieves and have come to rob the royal treasury, then who can stop them? Annadaata, this is a whole new method of thievery. Thieves are meant to be poor. If big, important people steal, who would ever call them thieves? Huzur, the biggest swindlers and dacoits are the ones called kings. But who would ever call them dacoits? And anyone who does, why we’d lop off his head right away!”

Now this particular king could do little more than decorate the throne. His understanding of the intricacies of rule and law, justice, injustice were limited. He just sat there silently listening to all this talk, looking vacant as a cow, unable to reply. The queen was the one who looked after all matters of rule and law. She was infinitely shrewd. After hearing everything she said, “The fault is not yours. Even if a minister had been in your place, he would no doubt have done the same. Well, what has passed has passed. But it is necessary to apprehend the thief, otherwise who will respect our rule? It was the beneficence of this thief that even though he had the entire treasury at his disposal, he only took ten pearls. If he had hauled everything away, who was there to stop him? Go, find him wherever he is and bring him back to me. Even if it means going to the seventh mountain of hell. The prestige of the kingdom is at stake.”

At the queen’s orders the soldiers scrambled. They followed the horse’s footprints and came straight to the thief ’s haveli. He was sleeping in his rooftop meri. He heard all the commotion downstairs and came out. The soldiers immediately recognized him as the man who had come riding in on his fine steed the day before. But his face was completely free of any anxiety or apprehension. How unheard of! When they asked, he readily admitted to his crime. He laughed, “My good men, what need was there for you to inconvenience yourselves like this? I’d already told you that I was a thief and that I had come to rob the royal treasury.”

They took him into custody, and he mounted his horse calm as can be and rode away with them. No one had ever seen or heard of such a thief before.

As they entered the fort, there rose an uproar: The thief had been caught! The thief had been caught! The queen ordered them to come to the darbar.

The hall was completely packed with people wanting to see this famous and most unusual thief. At last the king came and sat down without a word on his throne next to the queen. He was quite surprised to see such a big crowd. It was so packed there wasn’t room to fit a single sesame seed more. He looked over at the queen and said, “Such a big crowd has gathered just to see a thief? Not even a quarter of these many people ever come to see me. He should be king, not me.”

The queen rolled her eyes in horror, and the king swiftly swallowed his words right up to his lips and looked around instead – at the thief, his subjects, his courtiers – smiling all the while.

The queen paid special attention to the thief, and noticed that there was no one in the entire court who could compare with him in looks. Despite the fact that he had been arrested, there was not a crease of worry on his face. She couldn’t believe her eyes. So she demanded, “Tell me the truth and all your crimes will be forgiven: who are you?”

He became exasperated having to reply to the same question over and over. He waved his cane of gold wildly and screamed, “How many times do I have to tell you? I am a thief, a thief! I informed everyone before robbing the treasury.”

“How many pearls did you steal?”

“Five.”

Then the queen addressed the royal treasurer, “You said ten pearls had been stolen.”

The treasurer folded his hands together and pleaded, “Great Provider, how can you trust the words of a thief? He is lying.”

The thief said, “Whatever I have told you is the absolute truth. I may commit thefts, but I have taken an oath never to lie. I didn’t so much as lay my finger on the sixth pearl.”

The queen trusted the thief sixteen annas out of sixteen. She cast a quick close look at the treasurer and realized what was going on. “The treasurer is lying!” she roared, “Minister, take four soldiers and go at once to the treasurer’s house to conduct a search.”

On what strength does a thief ’s word stand? Who would have believed an ordinary thief could hold such sway? The colour flew from the treasurer’s face. He confessed the very next moment, brought the pearls from his house and surrendered them to the minister with trembling hands.

People couldn’t contain their astonishment. These big, important, powerful men outdone by a common thief! The thief ’s guru was sitting in the audience. His chest swelled with pride to see his disciple’s boldness. He rose and announced haughtily, “Huzur, this man before you is my disciple, and I am his guru. I am the one who made him take the oath never to lie. True enough, that day I didn’t believe that he would keep his word so well. May all disciples be like him!”

When she heard this, the queen’s pleasure only grew. She said to the minister, “I am very pleased with this thief ’s honesty. Bestow on him those five pearls as a reward.”

But the thief would not accept the queen’s favour. “I am not some brahmin holding out my palms for alms,” he said.

A hush fell on the hall. No one in the entire assembly could ever have imagined that a worthless thief like this would kick away a favour granted by the queen! When the queen became enraged, even a lion wouldn’t dare meet her eyes. It wasn’t rare for her to give someone the noose instead of alms when the mood struck. The fool probably wasn’t aware of the queen’s ways.

She was so furious she could have had his head lopped off right then and there. But a moment later, she cooled her boiling rage enough to smile thinly and say, “I knew I’d get an answer like this from one who has his head screwed on backwards.”

She then ordered the minister, “Give these ten pearls to his guru. After all, he was the one who made him vow never to lie.”

It was true – this thief ’s head really was screwed on backwards! Without missing a beat, he called out: “Five of those pearls are mine. I earned them myself, so I’ll be the one to say if they should be given away and to whom.”

This time the minister had trouble restraining himself. “This chandaal’s tongue has grown too long for his own head! He is taking advantage of Her Highness’s benevolence, spouting all this impertinence. He’s not just a thief, but an arrogant one at that! He robs the royal treasury in broad daylight and then shamelessly claims that he has earned the stolen goods!”

The thief smiled and gently said, “Mantriji, why are you all worked up over nothing? We come into this life empty-handed, and we leave empty-handed. We can’t even call our bodies our own. Everyone amasses as much wealth as he can according to his means. Some are petty crooks and others big ones. The big crooks always punish the petty ones. Just stop and think: where has all the wealth in the royal treasury come from? When someone spits, be it a king or a pauper, what comes out of the mouth is still just spit. Everyone grabs as much loot as he can. But they say that an empty hand cannot loot. If one has wealth, land and a sword, then one has the might to steal more. There’s only one difference between the petty crook and the big crook. Take me for instance. Before, I uttered nothing but lies, and the whole world thought everything I said was a lie. That was the time when having even a stale roti to eat was special. Now I speak nothing but the truth, and still the whole world thinks everything I say is a lie. No one has the courage to see the truth. But I have benefitted greatly from this strange quirk of human nature and have come into wealth beyond count.”

Everyone was astonished to hear him. The effect on the queen was like magic. And the king was lost, just the same as before, smiling to himself.

The treasurer was punished to receive one hundred shoe lashes in public. The thief ’s guru was rewarded five pearls, which he accepted – head bowed – quite happily. After all, if he hadn’t taken him on as his disciple that day in his anger, and if that disciple hadn’t lived up to such a difficult oath, how would he have ever received this royal bakshish?

The thief was kept bound in chains in the depths of the dungeon and sat submerged in thought. It was so dark down there that no one would ever believe it was broad daylight outside. Those tyrants were so cruel they kept even sunlight and air from the powerless when they could. So why would they ever let them near land or property!

The darkness gradually began to thicken. It seemed as if the sun had set. Darkness wherever you looked, darkness black as pitch. Today he wouldn’t even get his share of a bit of starlight. Suddenly, the leaves from the peepal trees at the cremation ground began rustling before his eyes. A full moon appeared in the sky, spreading an intense white moonlight. Without beginning, without end. The wind began to whistle. He could hear the windsong of the trees as the moonlight danced and tripped along their leaves with a shm-shm-shm. If he were offered all the wealth in the world in exchange for this wonderful sight, why would he accept? The scene was right before his eyes, and yet it was inconceivable, ineffable. It was right there but seemed as if it didn’t really exist. It was in this moment of complete darkness that for the first time he understood the power of such a sight.

When all of a sudden the door began to slowly creak open. A sliver of light fell in. Then a girl walked towards him carrying a lamp. This was the queen’s special, most loyal, most trusted maidservant. She said, “Her Highness has called for you.”

“Why?” The question popped out of the thief ’s mouth on its own.

The girl suppressed a smile and said, “You know, the matter of the stolen pearls is yet to be resolved.”

She put the lamp on the ground and unlocked his chains. The clatter echoed throughout the dungeon. He went quietly with her. As soon as he came outside he looked up. The dazzling light of a near full moon radiated in every direction. Stars too numerous to count twinkled sleepily in the moon’s delicate veil. As if their eyes were half closed. A soft breeze blew sweet as honey. As if it were humming a lullaby for the stars. If he hadn’t suffered the punishment of that blinding darkness, how would he have gained these riches of nature – so priceless, so fathomless, so limitless? Was there a jeweller who could eye the sky’s million diamonds and emeralds and appraise their value? And was there any among them who could afford the price of a single gem? Today he was the swami of all of nature’s treasures. And he didn’t even have to tunnel through walls to get it.

He followed the servant up the stairs and arrived at the queen’s Rang Mahal. Lamps of gold glimmered everywhere he looked. The queen had taken every care to adorn herself. She was redolent with perfume. A golden platter sat on a silver table on which were served thirty-two delicacies in dishes of gold. As soon as the maidservant entered the Rang Mahal, she began whisking away the flies off the golden platter.

The queen said, “I cannot tell you how much pleasure it gave me to hear the way you spoke today. To punish such a virtuous man would surely be one of the greatest crimes. Such an injustice shall not take place under my reign. And yet, you would not accept the reward I offered. If your guruji had not accepted those pearls just then, I might as well have drowned myself in a fistful of water. He restored my prestige. With a disciple like you, why should the guru be any less worthy? When you rejected my offering, I could scarcely control my rage. But now you cannot refuse me. How splendid it would be to rule over the state with a minister as virtuous and wise and true as you!”

The thief said, “You have such a clean-hearted raja, why dirty your hands with the mud of statecraft? I saw his smile and knew right away that such a radiant unblemished mind could not belong to a king of this world. It’s not possible that a raja could be so pure and wise. That smile of his is more valuable than all the riches of the kingdom.”

The queen smiled. She said, “You two are plates of the same mould. He’s singing your praises, and you are singing his. No one could ever have guessed what he said when he saw you. You’d laugh too if you heard it. If I hadn’t signalled him to keep quiet, Bhagwan only knows what kind of nonsense he’d have gone on spouting. He even thought of making you the raja! If it were in his power, he’d make you king before he took another breath. I know all too well that there hasn’t been such a huge gathering of people in the history of this raj. But what’s the use of just drawing out a crowd? Still, seeing so many people gathered here today, he whispered into my ear that if the king cannot draw a crowd even a quarter of this one, how can he grace the throne he sits on? The man who is able to bring so many people together just to stand in his presence should be the one to become king. As they say, the sample of grain in your fist stands for the whole cartload. This is how our raja’s mind works. He’s as innocent and unspoilt as a child.”

The thief said, “No, I don’t agree with what you say. It’s not so hard to sit on the throne of such a vast empire. But a raja like this is truly rare. You are fortunate to be the queen of such a ruler.” Then he looked down at the dishes of gold in astonishment and exclaimed, “It’s the middle of the night, and still Huzur hasn’t touched his plate?”

The maidservant smiled and said, “This plate has been laid for you.”

The thief at once responded, “For me? I’ve taken an oath never to eat off plates of gold. But what is the need for such hospitality for the likes of me? I can’t believe that such a generous welcome has been extended to a humble thief. I’m the sort who’s used to eating handouts of stale roti. I wouldn’t be able to stomach rich food like this. How can a thief accustomed to swallowing curses his whole life accept such an honour? If you had only sent down a few leftovers to the dungeon, for me that would have been far better than a thirty-two dish platter.”

The queen was infinitely shrewd. She tried pacifying him, “Only a jeweller knows the value of a jewel. How would a poor stone mason know the difference between a diamond and any other rock? It’s an outrage not to afford a man the respect he’s due. When it comes to virtue, you are the kingdom’s most precious jewel. It would be unseemly for the queen not to pay one as virtuous as yourself the proper respect. Tomorrow morning I’m going to venerate you in a public procession, the way we venerate Thakurji our Lord Krishna on the festival day of Dev-Jhoolni. I will have you seated on an elephant in a golden litter and will see to it that you are fanned and pampered as you are paraded through all the lanes of the city.”

This made the thief laugh so loud it made the queen grow quiet. Finally he stopped laughing and said, “If you don’t believe what I say then you may ask my guruji. I have taken an oath not to ride on an elephant in a golden litter. Such is my destiny! To have dissociated myself from such impossible luxuries that day with scarcely a thought, only to have them presented to me these many days later. And so a worthless thief like me is put in the singular position of having to turn you down to your face, o queen! It was only to amuse the mahatma that I took on these impossible oaths. If I could only have imagined such good fortune coming my way, I would never have let myself be snared in such oaths that day. But what is the point of such regrets? Now I cannot break that promise even on the point of death. I beg your forgiveness. You are the only one I have ever seen who truly appreciates the qualities of others. Such a virtue is rare even among the gods. You have certainly paid due respect to my efforts at being honest. I shall be obliged to you all my years. Thievery may be my calling, but I would never wish to be accused of looting virtue.” 

Hearing him, a thousand lotuses bloomed in the queen’s heart. She looked at the maidservant and the maidservant looked at the queen. She could see waves of happiness tossing in the queen’s eyes, and so left the room without being told. The queen closed the door and approached the thief. She gazed into his eyes and said, “Thieves know how to pry out the very dreams from those who sleep. And here you are so clueless you don’t understand what I’m trying to say even when I state it outright. Why do you think I did all this, do you even have an inkling? Just now you said that you were not one to loot virtue. When will there be a better opportunity? Don’t waste any more time stirring up this nuptial bed. How long will we keep it waiting?”

She hadn’t even finished speaking when she caught his hand. He felt as if a she-cobra had wound herself around his wrist. He felt tremors running down every hair on his body. He pulled his hand free and said, “You will get angry if I laugh now, which is why I’m struggling not to, but I have to tell you the truth. The fact is I have taken an oath not to lie with a queen upon her cot.”

The distraught she-cobra hissed, “Fool, this isn’t a cot, it’s a bed made of gold!”

“But it’s one and the same.”

It was as if an arrow had pierced the queen’s heart. What could she say to someone as dull as a rock? Actually, if he were a rock she would have understood. But here was a man whose feelings had turned to stone. What could she do? She turned so pale it was as if all the blood in her veins had drained out.

There was no weakness in man that could be kept hidden from the queen. She shot her final arrow, “Just now you said that the king was not an ordinary mortal but a god. Such a god shouldn’t live on earth but must make his kingdom in heaven. So it’s my responsibility to deliver him to heaven, and to make you king here on earth. I’m going to have to ask you to take the trouble of sitting on the throne. Other than that, you won’t have to endure any other hardships. As the queen, I beg of you now, do not make me burn any longer.”

Though he had heard each word distinctly, he still couldn’t believe his ears. Was he dreaming as he lay in the darkness of the dungeon? He rubbed his eyes and looked around him intently. No. Truly, here he was in the queen’s Rang Mahal. Lamps of gold glimmered in every corner. A bed of gold. And the queen sitting there clasping his feet. He shrank back and released her grasp. He lifted her up gently and sat her down on the bed. Then he said, “You are the queen of this kingdom! What kind of foolishness is this you’re falling prey to! I will not breathe one false word until my dying breath. I also took an oath that I would not become a king in this lifetime. Even Lord Brahma can’t change one’s fate, if it be the most tattered, wretched garment ever.”

Today the queen of the kingdom had been reduced to the state of a beggar. She sobbed, “Even after thousands upon thousands of attempts, your fate hasn’t changed. And neither has mine. I’ve made every effort conceivable. If you don’t go along with it, what else can I do? If you had, there’d be none to blame. But now everyone will think that it was all my doing. If anyone asks you, do not under any circumstances tell them what happened here tonight. My reputation will lie safe only if your lips are sealed.”

“But my guruji made me take an oath not to lie,” the thief countered. “How can I lie like that?”

The queen flushed and then leapt up from the bed so quick it looked as if she had stepped on a she-cobra’s tail. She charged at him as if she were going to tear him to shreds. If such a truth were to come out, it would taint her forever. The dam would burst. They say the truth fears no fire. But who could watch the royal throne go up in flames? She started shouting loudly – “Thief! Thief! Thief!”

Now guards and soldiers live in wait for just such an opportunity. And the cries were coming from the Rang Mahal! From the queen’s own lips! The soldiers ran in from every direction with swords unsheathed. And so the sword brought this oath against untruths to an end. How long could the power of truth stand up to the power of the state? They sliced that truth-telling thief to pieces right before the queen’s eyes. He never had the chance to clarify what was truth and what a lie.

The story should have come to an end here, but how could it end with that wily queen’s trickery? It sticks its foot in between every step of the tale and trips it up. The sun rose on another day and night came when the day set. A moonlit night even more radiant than the last. The same Rang Mahal as before. The same platter of gold. The same maidservant carrying a lamp to fetch the disciple’s guru in the middle of the night and bringing him to the Rang Mahal the same way. For the guru, there was no trouble over this business of oaths and such. He did as the queen told him. The guru always has more weight than the disciple. After that priceless night together in the Rang Mahal, the day dawned and at the auspicious hour deemed to be a sacred astrological juncture, the king himself applied a tilak to the brow of the sumptuously robed and bedecked mahatma to install him ceremoniously as the Rajguru… And this is how the story should end, with much pomp and the beating of drums and songs praising the glory and courage of the king. Who likes a story tainted with the blood of a humble thief?

*

From Chouboli & Other Stories, Vol I, by Vijaydan Detha. Translated from the Rajasthani by Christi A Merrill, with Kailash Kabir. Copyright © Katha, 2010, New Delhi.

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