The Destitutes

Our story takes us to a small village in Central India. It was a picturesque village, and though the inhabitants were mainly poor rural workers, they kept their humble abodes clean and in good repair.

On the outskirts of this village, was an old mission house and several years ago, a Buddhist monk took over the house and spent his time looking after the welfare of the village people.

Now right opposite the old mission house, were two small thatched cottages where two middle-aged widows lived. One of the widows was a cheerful woman, who always had a kind word for everyone. But the other widow had a mean and selfish disposition and seemed to spend her whole time grumbling about everyone and everything.

One stormy evening at the beginning of the monsoon, the selfish woman, who was just about to eat her evening meal, was surprised to hear a knock on her door. Quickly hiding her plate of food in the kitchen, for she had no intention of sharing her meal with anyone, she cautiously peered out of the window, and saw that it was the old Buddhist monk standing at her door.

Her first thoughts were that the monk might be calling to beg or borrow something, but then she thought he might be bringing some little gift. Opening the door, she feigned surprise at the sight of the monk. “Come in, father,” she said, eyeing him suspiciously. “It is a pity I have already eaten my evening meal, otherwise it would have been a pleasure to share it with you.”

“No, no my child,” replied the monk with a smile. “I have only come here on an errand of mercy. There are two destitute women who sorely need help, and I wondered if you had an old blanket or some old clothes you could spare.”

“How I wish I could help,” she said in a doleful tone, all the time thinking of the lovely blanket she had in the chest upstairs and the clothes she had stored away. “I am a poor woman, and have only one threadbare old blanket, and all the clothes I possess I am wearing. But I have a bundle of rags, which may help.”

Without waiting for the monk to reply, she bustled into her kitchen and returned with an armful of rags.

The old monk smiled as he took the bundle of rags. “Even these will be useful to a woman who has nothing.” The selfish woman was glad when the monk went on his way, and thankful that his visit had only cost her a bundle of useless rags.

Making his way to the cottage next door, the old monk knocked and the door was promptly opened and he was greeted with a broad smile and a welcome greeting, “Come on in, father,” said the cheerful woman. “It is going to be a stormy night, and you are just in time for a cup of coffee.”

As the monk sat enjoying his coffee, he told the woman his sorrowful tale of the two destitute women.

“How terrible,” said the woman in a sad voice. “Now I have a thick blanket that was given me as a wedding gift. You can have that, and I have some clothes I shall never wear, and I am sure I can spare some food and an old cooking pot.”

Cheerfully, the woman went round the cottage, gathering all the things she could spare, and the table was soon laden with clothes, food, and utensils. When it was all wrapped in her cherished blanket, it was certainly a hefty load.

“Do you think you can carry it?” asked the woman, looking at the huge parcel.

“I will manage,” replied the old monk kindly, “and my child, you will never regret your generosity.”

Later that night, the storm broke in all its fury. The thunder roared, and a great shaft of lightning struck the two cottages. The thatched roofs went up in a blaze of flames, which soon engulfed the two cottages. The two women managed to escape from the inferno, but were unable to save a solitary thing.

As the two women stood and watched their homes burning to the ground, the selfish woman wailed at her loss, but the cheerful woman took her by the arm. “Come along to the mission house,” she said. “The monk will give us shelter.”

When the women reached the mission house, the old monk was standing on the verandah watching the two burning cottages. “Hurry inside, my children,” he shouted, “My servant is preparing food and rooms for you to sleep.”

After the two women had eaten and rested after their ordeal, the old monk in a kindly voice said, “Now I can return to you all the things you gave me earlier this evening.”

“But what about your destitute women?” the cheerful woman asked.

“You are the destitute women,” replied the monk quietly.

At this, the selfish woman, thinking of her bundle of useless rags, burst into tears.