Fruits of Patience

A great poet of ancient India, Bharavi was living the last days of his life. He called his son and said – 

“Being a poet, I do not have any possessions or wealth. I’m not going to live long so before I die, I want to give a sloka. Whenever you are in dire need, you can sell this sloka for one hundred thousand rupees. But remember, don’t sell it a penny less than that.” 

Poetry and literature of Sanskrit and Prakrit languages fetched good value in those days. Kings and the rich bought them by paying a good price. 

Days passed, Poet’s son was going through a difficult phase of his life. His economic condition had deteriorated and he did not know what to do. He remembered the Sloka his father had given but was not sure whom to sell it to. Who would pay such a large sum of money for a Sloka?

There used to be a weekly trade fair in the town. Merchants and sellers came and sold a variety of goods. The trade fair would start in the morning and go on till the sunset. 

There was a merchant in the town who had a custom that by the evening before the market closed if there were any unsold items with the sellers, he would buy them out. Bharvi’s son also went to the trade fair to sell his father’s Sloka with the hope of finding a good buyer. He sat the whole day and tried selling the Sloka. People would come, look at the Sloka, and ask for the price. Hearing the price, they would turn away. 

It was evening, he could not sell the Sloka. As per the custom, the merchant bought the Sloka. He got it framed and hung it on the wall of his bedroom.

A few years passed. The Merchant faced losses in his business. He had to find other means to earn money. He decided to go to another country far off to try his luck. After a decade when he had enough savings, he decided to return home. 

He reached his town late at night. It was dark and visibility was low. He asked the watchman to open the gate. The merchant entered his house and came across his room. What he saw made his face turn red. He saw two persons sleeping on his bed. One was his wife which he could recognize and the other one looked like a youth whom he could not. He lost his cool as he thought, 

“My wife has taken advantage of my long absence. She has somebody else in her life. Such a characterless, dissolute woman! How could she do this…?”

He was fuming with anger. He took out his sword to kill both of them. As he entered the room, his attention went on the Sloka that was hanging on the wall. It read – 

सहसा विदधीत न क्रियाम् 

आविवेक: परमापदां पदम्  |

(You should not do any work in a hurry, Imprudence is the root of all the troubles)

He thought for a moment and lowered his sword. He yelled and called his wife. The wife woke up and saw her husband. She was delighted to see him but she also got scared seeing the sword and anger on his face. Before she could say anything, the merchant in his raging voice asked – 

“Who is this person sleeping with you?”

“Oh, that is why you are angry? He is your son! Who else can it be? When you went away, he was five years old and now he is fifteen,” answered his wife.

After listening to his wife, the merchant’s anger vaporized. He looked at the Sloka again and said –

“This Sloka has saved me from making a big blunder today. It is worth more than millions, not just a hundred thousand. If there is one thing that can save a person in this world, it is Patience!”