Once, there was a man. A few years ago, he traveled to a far flung village on foot to recover a loan he had given to a friend but who was delaying the payment.
In route, he saw a blind beggar who would start pleading for alms whenever he heard footsteps close by. This man felt pity but had nothing on him and so told the beggar that he was off to recover a loan and if he returned successful, he would give him one silver rupee (a great sum in those days).
As luck would have it, his friend not only gave him a bagful of 100 coins, he also acted the wonderful host and fed him well. Therefore, on the way back, he stopped by the beggar and gave him the promised one silver rupee. The beggar thanked him but requested that if he just be allowed to handle a hundred rupees since he had never experienced how so much money felt in the hand (there were no paper notes currency at those times).
The man obliged and the beggar played with it for a while. But when the man asked for the bag, since he was getting late, the beggar started wailing that a blind man was being deprived of his money. A crowd got around them and despite the man's explanation, sided with the beggar and shoed this man away. A plan occurred to him... He made a detour and came back and hid in a patch of sugarcanes and waited to see the beggar's next move.
As evening approached, the beggar groped his way to a concealed tree trunk, dug a little earth that revealed an earthenware vessel and having dropped the bag in it, covered it again with the displaced earth. He then left for his thatched hut in the close vicinity. At nightfall, the man went to the spot, dug out the vessel and made for home.
There he counted the total money, which came to Rupees 180, an extra 80 Rupees. He decided to keep the extra illegal money. But a problem arose... He started getting dreadful dreams, the beggar figuring in each and demanding his money. When he could no longer stand it, he took off one day for the place where he had met the beggar. There, he was told that the beggar had become mad shouting 'My money, my money,' and had died.
So this man did the next best thing that occurred to him. He again waited for the night, opened the grave and sprinkled the shrouded body with Rupees 80 and marched back home after restoring the grave. Days went uneventfully by, till bad luck struck our man again. His animals began to die, his crop did not bear fruit and he was literally starving. He thought why not tide over the bad time by using those 80 rupees and return them when better days arrive.
He justified it to himself that the dead beggar could do without them since he was in no hurry to shop around with his money. Thus he made another trip and re-opened the grave and found the silver coins sparkle in the moonlight. But as he picked the first coin, it felt to him as if he had caught a burning red-hot coal in the finger and the thumb and ever since that day, his finger and thumb got burnt very badly...
Having read this I remembered a story my teacher had told me when I was in Madrassah: In ancient Sindh there was a legendry figure called Devta Faqir.
One day Devta's mother asked him to bring fire from the neighbours or anybody in the village to cook food (there were no matches then). He went all over but as luck would have it, he couldn't find a single live ember. So he told his mother that he shall go and bring it from the hell. When he went there, the gate-keeper of hell chided him and said, 'Who told you we have fire here? We have none... Everybody coming here brings his own.'
Having read this, I am thinking. How much fire do we all collect for ourselves during our lifetimes? The eighty coins on the stiff. The single coin that gave the man an incurable burn. The millions,the billions, the politicians, the generals, the bureaucrats and the businessmen rob off the people! How much fire will that be...?
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