Vinay, the poet, was passing by the grocery shop of Jeewandas. He heard Jeewandas telling a customer, “All my life I’m buying and selling!”
Back at home, the poet composed a poem that began like this:
All my life I have bought and sold,
But what have I stored? filth or gold?
Whatever I have, how can I carry?
To the world beyond life on what kind of ferry?
He read his poem before the village landlord. The landlord was charmed. He rewarded the poet with a hundred gold coins.
While returning from the landlord’s house, the poet showed his reward to Jeewandas and said, “Believe me, it is a
statement ‘made by you which put the idea of the poem into my mind.”
“Is that so? I keep on speaking. Some understand my words in one way and others understand in another way,” observed the shopkeeper.
That inspired the poet to compose yet another poem which began like this:
How mysterious are the sounds we hear
How different to the ear!
As thunder they breed fear
As music, they joy inspire!
This time Vinay carried his poem to the king’s representative who lived in the town. The officer was so happy that he gave him a hundred gold coins.
All in the village heard about the poet’s good fortune. They came to congratulate him. Among them was Jeewandas.
The poet embraced him and said, “Believe it or not, again it is your utterance that gave me the idea for this poem.”
“You know how to pick up the right words!” observed the shopkeeper.
The shopkeeper’s words kept raising echoes in the poet’s ears. He wrote another poem in the same evening, to the effect:
As I walk over the stretched lands
I find them covered with stones and sands
The wind whispers in my ear
There are gems hidden here and there!
This time Vinay went to the capital and recited the poem before the king. The king was delighted. He requested the poet to remain in the royal guest house till a reception had been arranged in his honour.
The news of the proposed reception spread throughout the kingdom. Jeewandas too heard about it. He proceeded to the capital and congratulated the poet. “My friend,” the poet told Jeewandas, “this poem too came to my mind from a word uttered by you!”
“Is that so?” Jeewandas grew very thoughtful.
The next day he sought an audience with the king. When it was granted, he told the king, “My lord, all the poems recently written by Vinay owe their origin to me!”
“How is that?” asked the surprised king.
Vinay was summoned. He frankly narrated to the king how the shopkeeper’s words had provided him with the themes for three of his latest poems.
Jeewandas looked encouraged. He said, “My lord, don’t you think that I deserve a share in the reward the poet is to
receive?”
“The question has to be answered by yourself,” said the king. He then asked one of his officers to bring a sugarcane.
“To what does this sugarcane owe its origin?” the king asked Jeewandas.
“To the earth, my lord,” he replied. ;
“Can you chew and relish this sugarcane?” asked the king.
“Of course, my lord, I can!” replied Jeewandas.
“Can you chew and relish a handful of earth?” asked the king.
Jeewandas kept quiet. Then he smiled and said, “I have got the answer to my question, my lord. I don’t have any claim to the poet’s reward.”
“Good that you understood. Everything is important in its proper place. The earth is the most precious. So is your knowledge. But the sugarcane is a different thing. So also is poetry. If Vinaybhushan were not a poet, he could not have written poetry by simply listening to your words. Right?” asked the king.
“Right, my lord,” agreed Jeewandas.
Everything is important at its proper place.
