Born Lucky
Pitambar was the local pawn-broker, and although he greeted every customer with a cheery word and a broad smile, he could wring blood out of a stone. Consequently, he was extremely rich, and his miserly instinct saw to it that not even the smallest coin was ever wasted or squandered.
It came about that the community centre in the village was organising a musical performance, at which a great Bhagavathar would deliver a discourse on the glory of the gods. When Pitambar was asked to buy tickets, he could hardly believe his ears, “Waste money on a thing like that,” he fairly shouted. “I prefer to go to bed early and save my money.”
But Pitambar’s wife was keen to go and argued and pleaded with her stubborn husband. In the end, she said, “Look, if you go and listen to just the first three sentences of what is said, you would realise how good it is.”
Pitambar, tired of listening to his wife, grumpily agreed to attend the performance.
On the evening of the show, it seemed as though the whole village was there, jostling and pushing in order to get the best seats. Pitambar and his wife managed to find two seats, and he sat there, determined to have a miserable evening.
In the midst of all the babbling noise, the village headman stood up and shouted at the top of his voice, “Friends, I welcome you here tonight.”
“That’s the first sentence,” Pitambar said, giving his wife a nudge.
Just then, the Bhagavathar entered the hall, and practically everyone stood up in order to get a better view. At this, the headman jumped up and shouted, “Will you all please sit down.”
Pitambar gave his wife a dig in the ribs and muttered, “That’s the second sentence.”
Minutes went by, and everyone was fidgeting with impatience, and the air was blue with tobacco smoke. Then the headman stood up and announced, “The police inspector is here and says everyone must stop smoking.”
“Well, that’s the third sentence, and I have had enough,” Pitambar growled. And with that, he got up and pushed his way along the row, hurrying out of the hall. By the time he reached home, he was in such a towering temper, he forgot to close the front door, let alone lock it.
Soon Pitambar was in bed snoring his head off. With nearly everyone at the musical show, three robbers from a neighbouring village were prowling around, hoping to find something to steal. When they saw Pitambar’s door was ajar, they decided they were on a good thing and quietly tiptoed into the house.
Eventually, they found their way into Pitambar’s bedroom, but no sooner were they in the room when Pitambar, in his sleep, muttered, “Friends, I welcome you here tonight.”
The three robbers looked at each other in astonishment and then at the sleeping figure, who suddenly turned over and muttered, “Will you please sit down.”
The robbers were sure that Pitambar must be awake, and they started to tiptoe to the door. Then Pitambar grunted in his sleep and said, “The police inspector is here…”
The robbers didn’t wait to hear anymore and were off like scared rabbits, never stopping running until they were back in their own village.