The Unusual Carter
Once upon a time, there lived a poet named Seshacharya in Venkatpur. One day, while returning home from a distant village, he boarded a cart. The carter agreed to carry him to Venkatpur for a fee of five rupees.
A Curious Conversation
To break the monotony of the journey, the carter asked Seshacharya, “Do you belong to Venkatpur?”
“Yes, but my forefathers were residents of Siddhapur. My father moved to Venkatpur,” replied the poet.
“Siddhapur?” repeated the carter, a note of amazement in his voice.
“Yes, once we belonged to Siddhapur. Do you know anyone there?” asked the poet.
The carter did not answer the question. He seemed lost in thought.
Poetic Heritage
After a few minutes, the carter abruptly looked back at the poet and asked, “What is your occupation, sir?”
“Well, I am a scholar and a poet. I have written several volumes of poetry,” replied Seshacharya.
“Excellent. I hold scholars and poets in high esteem. I feel proud to carry you in my cart. Was your father a poet too?” asked the carter.
“He was. And so was my grandfather,” replied the poet.
“I see. If you don’t mind me asking, do you earn enough from writing poetry?” the carter inquired.
The poet let out a sad laugh. “No,” he admitted. “I hardly earn anything. The days of appreciating good poetry in the courts of kings are long gone. The Raja of Siddhapur was so impressed by my grandfather’s compositions that he awarded him high titles, honor scrolls, and even a lakh of rupees in cash. I live off the property my grandfather earned with that reward. My father left Siddhapur when the rajas fell on hard times; no royal family member resides there anymore.”
A Generous Act
Falling into silence, the carter seemed lost in thought again.
“Will you please stop for a moment? I would like to go into the village ahead and quench my thirst,” said the poet.
The carter stopped the cart, jumped down, and said, “You need not trouble yourself. I will take care of it.”
In a few bounds, he entered the village. Shortly after, he returned with a Brahmin boy carrying a tender coconut. The poet quenched his thirst and thanked the carter, wishing to pay for the coconut. However, neither the Brahmin boy nor the carter would accept any payment.
The Unexpected Revelation
As they reached Venkatpur at sunset, Seshacharya entered his house and came out with the carter’s fee. To his surprise, he saw the cart moving away and called out to his servant to stop it.
“You forgot your fee!” he called to the carter as they stood face to face.
“I have not forgotten, but I cannot accept anything from you,” was the carter’s reply.
“But why?” asked the amazed poet.
“Must I tell you why? Do you take back a gift you have bestowed on someone?” was the carter’s puzzling question.
“No, certainly not. But what do you mean by such a question?” asked the poet.
A Thread of Connection
The carter turned his head slightly and gazed absentmindedly at the distant green fields, as if hesitating to answer. Finally, he glanced back at the poet.
“Well, you know that the rajas of Siddhapur fell into hard times. The children of the dynasty are scattered everywhere. I am the great-grandson of the raja who rewarded your grandfather. You live off your grandfather’s property. How can I take back a part of the gift my great-grandfather gave to your grandfather?” asked the carter, not waiting for a reply.
The poet looked on until the cart disappeared from his sight.