GRANDMA’S BAG

Of STORIES

SUDHA MURTY

ILLUSTRATION BY
PRIYA KURIYAN
 The Beginning of the Stories

Summer holidays! Ajji smiled to herself as she waited for two

more of her grandchildren to arrive. Raghu and Meenu would
be here soon. Anand and Krishna had already arrived with
their mother the previous evening. They had been waiting
restlessly for their cousins to arrive since. Even though Ajji
told them Raghu and Meenu would be here the next
morning, these two kids just would not listen. They went to
the railway station with their grandfather, Ajja to receive
them. The train must have pulled into the tiny railway station
of Shiggaon by now, and their grandfather would have hired
a taxi to bring them home along with their mother and the
stacks of luggage.
Ajji hurried through her bath. She had finished cooking their
favourite dishes, and was now wearing a nice soft cotton sari
before going to the veranda to wait for them.
There! There they came! What a noise the children were
making! They all nearly tumbled out wanting to be the first to
be hugged by hugged by her, each one wanted to be closest
to Ajji.
Soon the children settled down. A visit to Ajji and Ajja’s
house meant first inspecting the garden to see how much the
plants had grown since they last came. Then they went to
check on the cows, calves, dog, pups, cats and kittens. Then
they all ate huge quantities of Ajji’s delicious food. Finally,
while their mothers went off to chat and rest, the children
gathered around their grandmother for the best part of the
holidays- listening to her wonderful stories, particularly in the
late afternoon.
Let us, too, gather under the fast revolving fan, on a mat
on the floor, fighting to be the nearest to her, and listen in.
 ‘Doctor, Doctor’

The first day, the children asked, ‘Ajji, how do you know so
many stories?’
Ajji smiled and answered, ‘My grandmother told me many
stories. Some I read in books. A few I learn from youngsters
like you, and the rest from Ajja.’ Then Ajji paused and said,’ I
see you all have grown a lot since the last time I saw you. So
before I start telling any stories, I want to know what each
one of you want to be when grown.’
Raghu who was eleven years old, and the oldest of all, said
immediately, ‘ I want to be an environment scientist.’ Meenu,
who was nine, said, ‘I have not decided, maybe a computer
person like my dad.’ Anand who was ten, said,’ I want to be
an astronaut,’ and his
twin sister Krishna firmly said, ‘I want to become a fashion
designer.’ Ajji smiled. ‘ I am glad all of you have thought
about this. We should always have some aim in life which we
must try to achieve while being of help to others. Now let me
tell you a story of a person who learnt just such a lesson.’
Shall we, too, join Ajji and her gang of young friends and
hear the story?

---------------

On a blazing hot summer afternoon, an old man came

walking down a narrow village path. He was tired and thirsty.
Right by the road, he spotted a tiny grocery store. It had a tin
roof and mud walls. The shopkeeper sat inside fanning
himself and shooing away the flies that were buzzing around
in the stifling heat. There was a little bench in front of the
store where the villagers met when evening came and the
land had cooled down. The old man flopped down on the
bench. He was so tired that for a while he could not speak.
Finally he opened his mouth and uttered one word, ‘Water!
Now, this village had been facing a horrible problem for a
long time. It was near a great desert and the rains came only
once a year to fill its ponds and wells.
But the rains had disappeared for the last two years, and the
villagers had been
making do with water from a faraway stream. Every morning
groups of men and women walked a long distance, filled their
pots from the little stream and used that whole day.
Naturally, no one wanted to waste even a drop of this
precious water.
Yet how do you say no to a thirsty, tired old man when he
asks for water? Without a second thought, the shopkeeper,
Ravi, who was very kind hearted, poured out a tumbler of
water from his pot and gave it to the old man. The man drank
it up greedily. Then he said one more word: ‘More!’ And
without waiting for Ravi to give it to him, he lunged for the
pot, picked it up and lifting it to his lips drank up Ravi’s entire
day’s supply of water!
Poor Ravi, what could he do? He just stared in dismay.
Then he told himself, ‘Never mind. After all, I did help
someone in need.’
The stranger, meanwhile, now seemed to feel better. He
handed the pot back to Ravi, gave a smile that filled Ravi’s
heart with warmth and said, ‘My son, always be kind like this.
Help everyone who comes to you like you helped me, and
you will be blessed.’ Then he picked up his stick and slowly
hobbled down the road. Ravi watched the strange old man
disappear into the distance, then returned to his shop.
The heat grew worse. After a while Ravi felt his head was
about to burst with a headache. His lips were parched and his
throat hurt, it was so dry. He really needed a drink of water.
But the visitor had finished it all up! Hoping to coax a drop or
two out of the pot, Ravi lifted it to his lips and tilted it.
Imagine his surprise when a gush of water ran down his face!
It was sweet, refreshing water which not only quenched his
thirst, but wiped out his headache too.
Ravi was staring at the water pot, trying to figure out what
had just happened, when Karim limped into his shop. Karim
was a young man who had hurt his leg in an accident many
years ago which had left him with a limp. When he was
unwell or tired, his limp became worse. Karim, too, flopped
down on the bench in front of the store and caught his
breath, like the old man. Then he fished out a shopping list
from his pocket and handed it to Ravi. As Ravi started packing
up the items listed on the paper, Karim opened a little bundle
of food and ate his lunch sitting on the bench. Finally, he
wiped his mouth on his scarf and pointed to Ravi’s pot of
water. ‘Mind if I take a little sip? It is so hot after all.’

Ravi was busy measuring out some dal. He said without

looking up, ‘I would be happy to offer you some, but
someone’s already had most of it. Then I was feeling unwell
and I think I finished the last of it.’
‘What are you saying, my friend? I can clearly see the pot
brimming over with water!’
Ravi looked up and started in disbelief. In front of his
eyes, Karim poured out a tumblerful of water and drank it.
Then he paid for all his groceries and left the store.
Did his limp look as if it was nearly gone? Ravi watched him
for a while trying to figure out, then decided the heat was
playing tricks on his mind and went back into cool comfort of
his shop and dozed off.
He woke with a start as someone was calling his name
urgently. He opened his eyes to find him back. This time he
was holding by the hand his little sister Fatima. ‘Brother wake
up. We need your help,’ Karim urged.
‘Wh-what? Is something wrong?
‘Fatima is burning up with fever!’
‘Then go to a doctor, why have you got her to a grocery
shop?’
Karim stared at him and said, ‘You mean you don’t know
how you just helped me? My let which has been

Troubling me for the last many years, healed up on its own as

soon as I drank the water from your magic pitcher! Give
Fatima a drink from it, too. I am sure her fever will disappear
in no time.’
Ravi was astounded. Magic pitcher? Healing water? What
was Karim going on about? Nonetheless he passed the pot to
Fatima. She drank a bit, then sat down to rest. Within
minutes she lifted her head and said, ‘It is true, brothers! I
am indeed cured of the fever!
Soon the news spread in the village like wildfire.
Ravi, the quiet, kind grocery storekeeper, was now the owner
of a magic pitcher, the waters from which could heal anyone
of any disease. Every night Ravi left the pitcher in the store,
and in the morning, it would be filled to the brim with sweet,
cool water. Daily, a queue of sick people and their relatives
collected in front of his shop. To each one Ravi gave a drink
of the water, and they went away saying they were now
better. The pot was never empty. Ravi realised the old man
he had helped must have given him this gift in gratitude. Ravi
understood what a great gift it was and thanked him daily in
his mind.
Soon his little store turned into a hospital. Ravi did not
charge a paisa for the water. People would leave some
money, some gifts for him, and others did not pay him
anything but he was still happy with that.
One day, a rich landlord’s servant appeared at his
doorstep and said, ‘My master is unwell. Come with me and
give him a drink of your water.’
 Ravi replied, ‘See the crowd of people behind you, waiting
for their turn. How can I leave without helping then and go to
your master? Do you think these sick people can stand in the
sun for long? Tell your master to come instead and I will give
him the water here.’
The servant said, ‘Ravi, what will you get by helping these
poor people? A few rupees? Some rice and dal? Come to my
master’s house. He will shower you with money and gifts.
Your worries about making ends meet will be over for at least
a month.’
Ravi was tempted. It was true, why not cure one rich man
and get some help in buying his daily needs? Ravi told the
people waiting outside to come back the next day and went
with the servant to the landlord.
Slowly, in this way, Ravi changed. Where once he could
not bear to see the pain and sadness of the sick and poor
people, he now started each day hoping he would get one
rich patient at least, who would pay him handsomely.
Days passed thus. Seasons changed and it was summer
once more. Ravi was in his old store, writing up his accounts,
when the voice of an old man quavered in his ear, ‘Son,
water!’
Startled, he looked up. Was it the same old man who
had given him the gift of the magic pitcher? But right behind
the visitor was none other than the king’s messenger. ‘Come
quickly! The messenger shouted. ‘The queen has been bitten
by a mosquito!’
 ‘Water!’ the old man repeated.
‘The queen is unwell!’ the messenger shouted again.
Ravi looked from one to the other. One was a grubby old
man who may or may not be the same person who gave him
the pitcher. On the other side a messenger from the king
himself! He pictured the gold coins showering down on him
once his healing water soothed the queen’s mosquito bites.
The choice was clear.
He picked up his pitcher and said to the stranger,
‘Wait right here, Uncle, I’ll be back soon.’
The king’s swift-footed horses took him to the palace.
There he rushed to the queen who was staring in dismay at
the mosquito bites on her arm. He tilted the pitcher to pour
some water into a tumbler, but nothing came! Again, and
again, he tilted the pitcher. He turned it upside down and
stared into its depths. It was dry as a bone.
‘You cheat! The king roared. ‘So, this is how you have been
fooling the people of my kingdom! Get out, and never let me
hear that you have acquired magical healing powers. If you
claim such a thing again, I will banish you forever from the
village.’ Then he turned to comfort his queen who was
splashing tears on the bump on her arm.
Ravi slowly walked back to his village. He went to his shop.
No one was there. He searched for the old man he had asked
for water. He was nowhere to be seen. He called out, ‘Uncle,
I am sorry. I made a mistake. Please do come. I will give you
water.’ But there was no reply. Now he realized this was the
same old man whom he met a year back.
He remembered the people he had healed once out of
kindness and compassion and how much they had blessed
and loved him in return. He remembers their little acts of
generosity, sparing him a few coins, a bundle of vegetables
from their garden in return for the water. When did he
become so selfish and greedy that he would neglect the
people who had needed him the most? The old man had
taken back his powers when he sensed Ravi had misused the
gift.
Never mind, Ravi smiled to himself. He would use the money
he had received for the water to help bring a real doctor to
the village, someone who would help the people with his
knowledge of medicines and diseases, so that they need not
wait for a magician to cure them of their illness.
From that day onwards Ravi his pitcher with ordinary
water from the stream and carried it back carefully to his
little store and waited for the old man. Maybe one day he
would be back, but till then, Ravi was determined to bring a
real medicine man to his village.

--------------

Ajji finished her story and looked around at the four little
faces around her. Raghu was deep in thought. Ajji smiled at
him. Then the children shouted, ‘Ajji, tell one more story!’
‘Ah ha,’ Ajji said, ‘too many stories a day are not good
either. One ladoo is very sweet, very delicious but if you eat
ladoos all the time its not fun. Go and play outside.
Tomorrow I will tell you another story.’ With that she got up
and went to the kitchen to supervise the dinner.
 Kavery and the Thief

The children had gone with their Ajja to the paddy fields that
morning. They were all city kids and did not know a thing
about farming! On the way, Anand was surprised to see a
bird’s nest on top of the tree. He said to Ajja, ‘I wonder how
birds decide where and how to make their nests!’Ajja said,
‘The straw in the nest is from the paddy field. Do you know,
farming helps human beings as well as birds?’ Krishna
replied, ‘Ajja, I thought wheat and rice can just be plucked
from trees, like mangoes. But today I realized there is so
much work in farming.’
That afternoon, after lunch, when they gathered around
Ajji for the day’s story, she looked sharply at the children.
They had enjoyed learning about farming activities like
cleaning seeds and separating the straw from paddy. In the
city everything came from the supermarket, but here they
had seen how things were really produced.
Ajji said, ‘Farming is very important. If farmers do not
grow any food, what will we all eat?’
Anand said thoughtfully, ‘If farmers do such important
work, why are they so poor?’
‘That’s true, my dear,’ Ajji sighed, fanning herself.
‘Of course, there are rich farmers too, people who own lots
of land. But many in our country till small pieces of land, and
so make less money.’
 Then seeing the kids’ crestfallen faces, she put down her
fan, sat up and said, ‘But I can tell you of a poor farmer
woman who did not remain very poor. All due to her sharp
wit!’
‘Tell Ajji! Do tell!’ the kids yelled. So Ajji started her story

-------------

Kavery’s lazy husband annoyed her no end. There she was

working like a donkey in the fields, ploughing and watering
and tending a hard, dry piece of land, while her husband
snored away happily at home! Why, once