Mangoes at Command
In a small village in a hilly area lived an old man who knew a strange hymn. Every day, early in the morning, he would go over to a lonely nook of the valley and stand before a mango tree. Then, touching the tree, he would recite the hymn. Lo and behold, a hundred mangoes would pop up in the tree. As he would look on, the fruits would ripen and fall down. He would collect them in a sack. Back at home, the old man kept a few mangoes for his own family, the rest he distributed among the poor folk of the village. A very few people knew about his miracle. Those who knew did not speak about it to anybody The old man had forbidden them to talk about it. A brahmin young man was passing through the valley. He had been a student of a renowned scholar. But he failed to learn anything. The scholar told him, "My boy, no use wasting time here. Better go back home and help your father in his work." So the young man was returning home.
He had no guide. He strayed into the nook of the valley and passed the night in a cave. In the morning, unknown to the old man, he saw him performing the miracle. The young man sprang out of the cave and fell flat at the old man's feet. The old man was taken aback. He took a step backward and said, "How are you doing such a thing, young man? You seem to be a Brahmin. I am a man of low caste. I would become a sinner if I let you touch my feet!" But the young man wouldn't even lift up his head. He mumbled on, his forehead still touching the ground, "O great man, kindly teach me the hymn that yielded you the instant mangoes!" "I'm no great man, my boy, but a poor illiterate villager. It was through the compassion of a rishi that I learned the hymn. He has not permitted me to teach the hymn to may, but to only one, before my death," explained the old villager. "Let that one be me. Kindly accept me as your disciple," the young man pleaded with the villager. He had got up, but he stood with his hands folded. "Young man, I'm not sure if you are fit enough to learn the hymn. One who would practice it must observe two rules. He must not make any profit out of the fruits. Secondly, he must not utter a lie," said the old villager. "I agree to abide by the rules, O great man, Please do not disappoint me," insisted the young man. The old man was kind-hearted. He still tried to avoid the young man, but the latter fell on the ground again and threatened to clutch at his feet.
Now, the old man who did not wish to be a sinner by allowing a Brahmin to do that. He had to teach the hymn to the young man. The young man thanked the villager profusely. The next morning he tried the hymn on a mango tree. It worked. He ate up as many mangoes as he could - sweeter ones than them he had never known - and he carried the rest home. "We never expected you before a year!" exclaimed the young man's parents when they saw him. "I hope, you learned your lessons well?" asked his father. "Haha! I have learned much more than any chap you know could have learned," boasted the young man. His father kept quiet, not quite sure of the talent his boy claimed for himself. But when the boy performed the miracle the next morning he was wonderstruck. The family consumed all the hundred mangoes on the first day. On the second day, they ate half and distributed the other half. On the third day, there was the sitting of the weekly market near the village. The boy and his father sold the mangoes there. From the next day onward they were not required to carry the mangoes anywhere. People who had tasted them crowded before their house to buy them. The fame of the mangoes grew. Along with that, the young man grew rich. By and by people learned about the miracle by which the mangoes were born. They took the young man to be a yogi. They showed him great respect. He quite relished his new status. The people consulted him on their problems and he advised them like one who knew everything!
Two years passed. One early morning two royal officers got off their horses in front of the young man's house and greeted him. "We are from the king. You are invited to the court," they said. "Is the king having any problem?" the young man asked proudly. "We don't think so. He would perhaps like to know a gifted man like you better," answered the officers. "Very well." The young man put on his best clothes and rode a nice horse he had lately purchased and galloped forth, escorted by the two officers. The king received him with courtesy and asked, "Young man, we are proud to have a subject who can produce mangoes all year-round. Will you tell us how you got such power?" "My lord," replied the young man, coughing and assuming seriousness, "I got it from a great yogi high in the Himalaya, after a strenuous meditation lasting five years at a stretch!" "Indeed," muttered the king, as if impressed by the young man's claim. "Now let us see you perform the miracle." The king walked towards the garden, holding the young man by the hand. That meant a great favor. The ministers and courtiers followed. The gardener brought a casket knit out of silver wires to collect the mangoes. The young man touched the mango tree that looked most healthy and recited his hymn. He did so twice, thrice, a dozen times, his eyes bulging with despair, but not a single fruit came out. "What's the matter, young man?" asked the king.
"My lord, I don't understand why the hymn does not work," the young man stammered out. "I had a hunch that you were lying. You don't look like one who meditated in the Himalaya for five years. Were you doing some black magic? speak out or you die!" roared the king. The young man broke into tears and confessed that he had learned the hymn from a poor old villager - by chance! He narrated how it happened. "Your guru had asked you to observe two rules: not to make a profit and not to utter a lie. Providence excused you your violating the first rule. But when you proved ungrateful to your guru, that was too much. Go and beg your guru his pardon. Maybe, the hymn will work again," observed the king. The young man went to the old villager of the valley and sought his mercy. The old man was sorry, but he excused his unlucky disciple. Even then the hymn did not work for the young man ever again and there is not much he could do about it.
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