Birbal: Make the line shorter without touching it

Told in English, Telugu.

Long, long ago, in a grand palace in the north of India, there lived a great emperor named Akbar. His court was full of ministers, poets and wise men. But the cleverest and the funniest of them all was a man named Birbal.

Emperor Akbar loved puzzles. Whenever his heart felt playful, he would think of a tricky question and test his courtiers. And very often, it was Birbal who found the answer, with a twinkle in his eye.

One bright morning, the court was full. Sunlight danced on the shining marble floor. Everyone was waiting to hear what the Emperor would say.

Akbar stood up from his throne. In his hand was a small piece of white chalk. He walked to the middle of the hall, bent down, and drew a long, straight line on the floor. Swish!

Then he looked around at all his courtiers and smiled.

"Listen carefully, all of you," he said. "Here is today's puzzle. You must make this line shorter."

The courtiers nodded. That sounded easy.

"But," said the Emperor, raising one finger, "you must not touch it. You must not rub it. You must not wipe away even a tiny bit from either end. The line must stay exactly as it is, and still become shorter."

Oh! Now the courtiers looked at each other. A buzz of whispers went around the hall.

A minister with a big curly moustache stepped forward. He walked all around the line. He bent down and looked at it from this side. He bent down and looked at it from that side. He even measured it with his fingers, one, two, three, four, five.

"Jahanpanah," he said at last, scratching his head, "how can a line become shorter if nobody may rub out a piece of it? This cannot be done!"

Another courtier, a round little man, had an idea. He leaned very close to the line and blew on it. Phooo! Phooo! But of course, the chalk line stayed just where it was. Everyone tried not to laugh, and the round little man went back to his place with very red cheeks.

A third courtier stared at the line so hard that his eyes became tiny slits. He stared and stared, as if the line might shrink just because he was looking at it so fiercely. Nothing happened.

The Emperor folded his arms. "So," he said, "is there nobody in my whole court who can solve this little puzzle?"

The hall became very quiet. Nobody wanted to say no. Nobody knew how to say yes.

All this time, at the back of the hall, one man had been standing calmly, stroking his beard and smiling to himself. Can you guess who it was?

Yes, it was Birbal!

Akbar's eyes found him. "Birbal," he said, "you have been very silent today. Have you nothing to say?"

Birbal bowed. "Jahanpanah, may I borrow your chalk?"

The Emperor handed it to him. Everyone held their breath. Would Birbal break the rule? Would he rub out the line? The courtiers leaned forward to watch.

Birbal knelt down on the marble floor, close to the Emperor's line. Very close, but not touching it at all. Then, right beside it, he began to draw a new line of his own. He drew, and he drew, and he drew. His line went on and on, far past the start of the Emperor's line and far past its end. It was a long, long line, almost twice as long!

Then Birbal stood up, dusted the chalk from his fingers, and stepped back.

"Jahanpanah," he said gently, "please look at your line now. Is it long, or is it short?"

Everyone looked. And do you know what they saw? Next to Birbal's great long line, the Emperor's line looked small. It looked short! Nobody had touched it, nobody had rubbed it, and yet it had become the shorter line.

For a moment, the whole court was silent. Then the curly moustached minister slapped his forehead. The round little man burst out laughing. And Emperor Akbar threw back his head and laughed the loudest of all.

"Marvellous, Birbal, marvellous!" said the Emperor. "You did not cut my line at all. You simply drew a bigger one!"

Birbal smiled. "Jahanpanah, there is a little lesson hidden in this puzzle. Sometimes, when we see someone else doing very well, we feel like pulling them down, like rubbing out their line. But there is a better way. We can draw our own line longer. We can learn more, work harder and be kinder. Then we grow bigger, and nobody has to become smaller."

The Emperor nodded slowly. "That is wisdom worth more than gold," he said. And that day, Birbal went home with a fine gift from the Emperor, and a big smile on his face.

So, my dear, here is something you can try. Tomorrow morning, when Amma is drawing the muggu in front of the house, ask her for a little piece of chalk. Draw a line on the floor. Then ask your Nanna or your Ammamma to make it shorter without touching it. Watch them scratch their heads! And then you can show them Birbal's clever trick.

And remember, whenever you want to be better, you do not need to make anyone else small. Just draw your own line a little longer, every single day.

Now close your eyes, my clever one. Good night.