The Mysterious Boy

An Unfaithful Officer

“My lord! I have come to report to you about the unfaithful conduct of one of your officers. If you do not disclose to him that I am the informer, I will tell you all,” said a fellow to the Sultan of Bijapur.

“I assure you of your safety. Go on,” commanded the sultan.

“My lord, it is about the gentleman, Damaji, who is your collector over the Mangalwedha region. He had collected a large quantity of grain as taxes from the landowners, but he has distributed everything free to the people. Nothing remains for you,” reported the fellow.

A Question of Trust

“Who are you?” demanded the sultan.

“My lord! I am his clerk. I was pained to see him wasting your property. I thought it was my duty to bring his conduct to your notice,” explained the fellow.

“We should thank you. But we must admit that Damaji has been an honest and efficient officer. If he is squandering our grain without permission, he must have gone mad. Otherwise, you are a liar. You are to be detained here until the truth is found out,” announced the sultan.

“Detained, my lord?” the clerk asked in panic.

“Yes. But if your report is found to be true, you will be made the collector over Mangalwedha in place of Damaji,” assured the sultan.

The clerk’s face beamed with joy; that is exactly what he desired—to become the collector himself. As far as his allegation was concerned, nobody could prove it false, he was sure. The detention became a matter of joy for him.

The Arrival of the Boy

The sultan sent a messenger to Mangalwedha asking Damaji either to send the grain collected or its value in case the grain had been sold.

A few days after the messenger left, a boy appeared before the sultan and said, “I am a servant of Damaji. He has sent me to deposit the taxes collected, in cash, in your treasury.”

The boy emptied a bag before the sultan, revealing its contents: gold coins. They were counted by the sultan’s accountants, and the amount was found to be what was expected from Damaji.

The accountants handed a receipt to the boy, who accepted it with a smile. By then, the sultan’s attention had been focused on the boy. There was something fascinating about him; his glittering eyes radiated intelligence and innocence, and his smile was bewitching.

Reflections on Divine Help

At that moment, the sultan could think of nothing else except the mysterious boy. Every word the boy had spoken and every child-like gesture he had made haunted him.

“Damaji, tell me, did you ever confide your plight to anyone? Did you ever appeal to anyone for help, fearing punishment from me?” asked the sultan.

“Whom can I appeal to, my lord? Who can aid me if you decide to punish me for distributing your grain without your permission?” responded Damaji. Then, after a moment’s reflection, he said, “Yes, my lord, I had appealed to one—the Supreme One whom I worship in the form of Lord Vithal of Pandharpur.”

As he said this, he pulled out a picture of Vithal from his bag. No sooner had he unfolded the picture than a slip of paper fell from his bag. The minister picked it up; it was the receipt that had been given to the boy!

A Realization

The sultan leaned over the picture and exclaimed, “I cannot forget the eyes and the contour of the boy. Yes, it is your Lord Vithal who had come to your rescue! I was a fool to be trying to trace him through a hundred sepoys!”

“You are not a fool, my lord; you are among the luckiest of the Lord’s devotees. He would not have appeared before you in human form otherwise,” said Damaji.