A Silent Exchange
Long ago there lived a king. One day, as he held his court, a messenger was ushered in. He was the envoy of another king. The stranger bowed to the king, walked up to the throne, and drew a line around it with a piece of charcoal. He did not speak a single word. "What does this mean?" asked the king. But the stranger made no reply. The ruler was greatly perplexed. He ordered his ministers and councillors to explain the meaning of the line around him. But alas, they only gave him a blank look. The four wise men of the realm were then summoned but they, too, failed to interpret the message. "Is there none in the whole of my land who is clever enough to read the meaning behind this mysterious line?" cried the king. He was indeed very angry. He gave the four men of wisdom just three days to find someone who could explain the meaning of the line. If they failed, their heads would be chopped off, he warned them. They looked at the messenger to get some clue. But he remained silent and stood still as a stone.
Helpless, the four wise men set out to do the king's bidding. They knocked at every door and, on the third day, came to a house on the outskirts of the kingdom. They did not have a knock-on its door, for, it was wide open. They entered and as they did so, there was a soft tinkling of bells. "What could this mean?" they wondered. Suddenly, they saw in the room a pestle suspended from the roof and pounding wheat in a mortar all by itself. No one was there. Surprised, they moved into the second chamber. It was quite empty, save for a hanging cradle that was rocking again all by itself. Their hearts began to beat faster. They went out and looked at the roof. To their amazement, they saw corn laid out on it to dry. Birds were wheeling over it but could not peck it, for a fan of palm leaves fixed onto the roof was swaying over it from side to side. There was no wind, not a leaf stirred on the trees, and yet the fan swayed and kept the winged creatures away. "Are we in a land of magic?" they marvelled and hurried once again into the house. The little bells softly tinkled once more and the faint sound of clickety clack-clackety click came from inside, which they had failed to observe during their first entry. It led them to the last and the innermost chamber. There they saw a poor man working at his loom. "Good evening, friends," he greeted them with a smile. "What enchantment is there in this house? The pestle is pounding, the cradle is rocking, and the fan is swaying, all by themselves!" exclaimed the wise lot.
"It's most simple. I'm doing all that myself!" replied the weaver, in a casual way. "How can you do all that when you're sitting here and weaving? Please don't oke with us; we're on a serious mission," said the bewildered men. "All three things are attached to the loom by strings. As I weave, the strings move and set the pestle, the cradle, and the fan in motion. Simple isn't it?" explained the weaver. "But as we enter and come out little bells tinkle softly!" observed the four. "Yes, they do," replied the weaver with a smile. "For, under the wooden board at the threshold are again a series of strings which are attached to these bells hanging here in front of me. As you step on the plank, the strings move and bells tinkle telling me that someone has entered." The wise men marvelled at the ingenuity of the simple weaver. A sense of humility came over them. For, they themselves were not really as wise as they appeared to be, after all! They saluted him and explained the purpose of their wandering. The weaver fell into a deep reverie. He then picked up some toys his grandson loved to play with, caught hold of a chicken from the backyard, and dropped them all into a bag hung over his shoulder.
The wise men were indeed surprised. But they hastened to the palace without a word, accompanied by the weaver. They must present themselves before the king by morning the next day. In the morning, the whole court awaited in pin-drop silence. The weaver closely looked at the line drawn around the throne and at the messenger. Taking the toys out of the bag he threw them at his feet. The envoy, in response, brought out from his pocket a handful of corn and flung it on the floor. The king twitched his moustache, but could not understand what was going on. The weaver only smiled and, taking out the chicken, placed it right in front of the scattered grains. In no time the hungry bird pecked them all; not a grain did it leave behind. The envoy bowed to the king, ran out of the palace, mounted on his horse, and sped away. The king and his courtiers looked on in amazement. "What is all this?" he asked impatiently. "Your Majesty," replied the weaver, "The messenger was only trying to convey that his king had declared war on us and his soldiers will soon surround this city. That is what he meant by encircling your throne with a line." "But," interrupted one of the wise men, "why did you throw the toys at this feet?" "I did so to tell him that our army is far stronger than theirs and they can never defeat us. In fact, they are mere children compared to us and it would do them good if they stayed at home and played with toys instead of waging war," replied the weaver very plainly.
"Bravo!Bravo! That makes sense!" exclaimed the king excitedly. "But what had the grains and the chicken got to do in this silent tussle?" "Well," replied the weaver, "by throwing the grains he wanted to impress that their army is very large indeed, their soldiers as numerous as grains. I at once had the chicken peck them to the very last grain. This was a warning that if they dared to attack us, not a single soldier of theirs will go back alive." "I'm sure he got the message, for didn't you all see how he fled the palace at once," added the king. "Yes, Your Majesty," replied the weaver. "Stay with me in the palace, O good wise man, and be my minister," proposed the king. "Your Highness, I'm happy where I am, by the side of my loom," replied the poor weaver and he took leave of the king, of course, with all the precious gifts showered on him. The king and his ministers wondered for long whether the strange messenger was really dumb or he came from a land where everyone kept mum! Perhaps the wise weaver could have answered that too if asked.
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