The Miser

Told in English, Telugu.

Once upon a time, in a little village near Guntur, there lived a cloth merchant called Dhanayya Seth. He had a big house with a strong iron box, and inside that box were more coins than anyone in the village could count. But do you know what? Dhanayya Seth never wanted to spend even one of them.

He wore the same old faded dhoti every single day. He walked barefoot so his slippers would not wear out. And at night he ate only plain white rice with a little salt, because, he said, "Dal costs money, pickle costs money, ghee costs a great deal of money. Salt is almost free!"

Next door to his house lived Sitamma and her little son Raju. Sitamma was not rich at all. Every evening she made hot, crispy garelu to sell at the village market the next morning. And oh, the smell! The fragrance of those garelu, with green chillies and curry leaves sizzling in the oil, floated over the wall and right into Seth's courtyard.

One evening, Raju climbed up to look over the wall, and he saw something funny. Dhanayya Seth was sitting on his doorstep with his plate of plain rice. With every mouthful, he lifted his nose high in the air and sniffed. Sniff, sniff, gobble. Sniff, sniff, gobble.

Raju ran inside. "Amma! Amma! Seth garu is eating your garelu!"

Sitamma looked at her basket. "Not one is missing, Raju. What do you mean?"

"He is eating the smell, Amma! He sniffs your garelu and swallows his rice. He says it tastes like a feast!"

Sitamma laughed, but she also shook her head a little. She knew Seth was the richest man in the village, and yet he had never once bought a single gare from her, not even at Sankranti.

The next evening, Sitamma leaned over the wall. "Seth garu," she said sweetly, "I hear you enjoy my garelu every night."

Seth nearly dropped his plate. "Enjoy? Me? I have not eaten even one!"

"No," said Sitamma, "but you eat the smell. Every night for a whole month. So I think you should pay me for it."

"Pay?" cried Seth, and his face went red as a tomato. "Pay for a smell? A smell is air! Air belongs to everyone! I will not give you a single paisa!"

"Then let us ask the village elder," said Sitamma calmly.

Well, by the next morning, the whole village had heard about it. When Seth and Sitamma came to the big banyan tree where the elder sat, there were farmers, washermen, children and grandmothers all crowded around to watch.

The elder was an old man with a white beard and twinkling eyes. He listened to Sitamma. Then he listened to Seth, who waved his arms and shouted that smells were free and he was being cheated.

The elder stroked his beard for a long time. Everyone waited. Raju held his breath. Seth's heart went thump, thump, thump. Would he have to open his precious iron box?

At last the elder spoke. "Seth garu, go home and bring your bag of coins."

"My coins?" Seth's voice came out as a squeak. "All of them?"

"All of them," said the elder.

Poor Seth walked home very, very slowly, and came back hugging a heavy cloth bag to his chest as if it were a baby.

"Now," said the elder, "hold the bag up near Sitamma's ear, and shake it."

Seth blinked. Then he shook the bag. Jingle, jangle, jingle!

"Sitamma," asked the elder, "did you hear the coins?"

"Yes, I heard them," said Sitamma, smiling.

"Then you are paid," said the elder. "Seth garu ate only the smell of your garelu. So you may have only the sound of his money. A smell for a sound. That is fair."

For a moment there was silence. Then the whole village burst out laughing. The washermen laughed, the farmers laughed, and the little children rolled about in the dust laughing. Even Sitamma laughed until tears came to her eyes.

Dhanayya Seth stood there holding his bag. He had won. He had not lost a single coin. But somehow he did not feel happy at all. He looked at all the laughing faces, and for the first time he felt how silly he must look, a rich man in a torn dhoti, sniffing his neighbour's cooking over a wall.

That night, Seth could not sleep. He lay on his mat and thought, "I have a box full of coins, and not one friend. Sitamma has almost nothing, and her house is full of laughter."

A few days later it was Sankranti. The village was bright with rangoli, and the air smelled of pongal and sweets. Sitamma was frying garelu when there was a knock at her door.

It was Dhanayya Seth, in a brand new white dhoti.

"Sitamma," he said, a little shyly, "how many garelu do you have?"

"About a hundred, Seth garu."

Seth took a deep breath. He opened his bag, and this time he did not just shake it. He counted out real coins and put them in her hand. "I will buy them all," he said. "Please give them to every child in the village. And Raju gets the first one."

Raju's eyes grew as big as the moon. Sitamma smiled the warmest smile.

That Sankranti, the children ran from house to house with crispy garelu in their hands, and in the middle of them all sat Dhanayya Seth, eating a real gare for the very first time in his life. He took a big crunchy bite and closed his eyes.

"Hmm," he said happily. "It tastes even better than the smell!"

And from that day on, people in the village did not call him the miser anymore. They called him their friend.

Can you guess what Raju said when he grew up? He said, "Money that jingles in a bag only makes noise. Money that is shared makes people smile."