Tenali Rama: The red peacock

Told in English, Telugu.

Long, long ago, in the great city of Vijayanagara, there lived a wise and kind king named Krishnadevaraya. His court was full of poets, ministers and courtiers. And the cleverest of them all was a man with twinkling eyes and a quick tongue. His name was Tenali Ramakrishna, but everyone called him Tenali Rama.

The king loved beautiful things. He loved music, he loved poems, and most of all, he loved birds. In the palace garden there were parrots and mynas, swans and cranes, and many, many peacocks with shining blue necks.

One bright morning, a courtier came hurrying into the hall. He was carrying a big cage covered with a silk cloth. His chest was puffed out like a proud rooster.

"Maharaja," he said, bowing low, "I have brought you something no king in the whole world has ever seen."

He pulled away the cloth. Everyone gasped. Inside the cage stood a peacock. But it was not blue and green. It was red! Red from its head to the tip of its long tail, as red as a ripe pomegranate.

"A red peacock!" cried the king, rising from his throne. "How wonderful! Where did you find it?"

"Oh, Maharaja," said the courtier, waving his hands, "I travelled far, far away, into a deep forest in the south. I walked for many days. I crossed rivers and climbed hills. And there, at last, I found this rare bird."

The king was so happy. "You have done well," he said. "Take these gold coins. And take more. Go back to that forest and bring me more red peacocks for my garden."

The courtier bowed again and smiled a wide smile. He carried away a heavy bag of gold that went clink, clink, clink.

But one person in the hall was not smiling. Tenali Rama was looking very closely at the peacock. He leaned near the cage. He sniffed once. He sniffed twice. Hmm.

That red looked a little too bright, he thought. And there was a funny smell. Not the smell of a forest. The smell of something else.

Tenali Rama said nothing in the court. But that evening he slipped out into the city. He walked through the busy streets, past the flower sellers and the bangle shops, until he reached the small lanes where the artists lived. He asked here and he asked there.

"Is there a painter who is very good with colours? Someone who can paint so well that it looks real?"

At last an old woman selling jasmine pointed down a narrow lane. "Go to the house with the blue door," she said. "The painter there can make anything look real."

Tenali Rama knocked on the blue door. A thin man with paint on his fingers opened it.

"Namaskaram," said Tenali Rama kindly. "Tell me, my friend, did someone ask you to paint a peacock red?"

The painter's face went pale. "Sir, I did not mean any harm," he said softly. "A rich man from the palace came to me. He brought a peacock and asked me to colour its feathers red with a gentle paint that would not hurt the bird. He promised to pay me well. But he has not paid me even one coin."

Tenali Rama smiled. "Do not worry. You have done nothing wrong. You are an honest worker. Now, could you paint four more peacocks for me? Just as beautifully?"

The painter nodded. "Of course, sir."

A few days later, the courtier came back to the court. He looked tired, as if he had walked a very long way.

"Maharaja," he sighed, "I searched and searched. But I could not find any more red peacocks. That one was the only one in the whole world."

Just then Tenali Rama stepped forward. "Maharaja," he said, "I think I can help. I have found four more red peacocks!"

Servants carried in four cages. Inside each one stood a peacock, red as fire. The whole court buzzed with surprise. The courtier's mouth fell open, and his face turned whiter than milk.

The king clapped his hands with joy. "Rama! You are amazing! Where did you find them? You must have the reward!"

"Maharaja," said Tenali Rama, "I did not find these birds. The real reward belongs to someone else." He turned and called, "Come in, my friend."

The painter walked in slowly, holding his cap in his hands.

"This is the man who made these peacocks red," said Tenali Rama. "And he made the first one too. He used a soft paint that does not hurt the birds. Let me show you."

Tenali Rama took a bowl of water. Gently, very gently, he sprinkled a little on one peacock's wing and wiped it with a soft cloth. Can you guess what happened?

The red came away on the cloth! And underneath, the feathers were shining blue and green, just like every other peacock in the garden.

The king's eyebrows rose up high. He turned slowly toward the courtier. "So," said the king, "your long journey to the faraway forest was only a short walk to a painter's house?"

The courtier hung his head. "Forgive me, Maharaja," he mumbled. "I wanted the gold."

The king was angry, but he was also fair. "You will give back every coin I gave you," he said. "And you will pay this painter what you promised him. Then you will think hard about the difference between being clever and being honest."

Then the king smiled at the painter. "Your hands are truly gifted. To make a bird look so real, that is great skill. You shall have a reward from me too."

The painter bowed, his eyes shining with happy tears.

And the peacocks? They were taken to the palace garden, where the gardeners gave them a nice cool bath. Soon all five were blue and green again, dancing with their tails spread wide, as if nothing had ever happened.

The king laughed and patted Tenali Rama on the shoulder. "Rama, how did you know?"

Tenali Rama tapped his nose and grinned. "Maharaja, God makes peacocks blue and green. When a peacock smells of paint, it is good to ask who held the brush!"

And the whole court laughed and laughed.

So remember, little one. A trick may shine bright for a while, like red paint on a peacock. But a little water of truth washes it all away.