The Gardener's Wisdom

- Ravi Ila Bhatt

In a grand kingdom, nestled high in the hills, the ruler was the powerful Maharaja Raghuvir Singh. The Maharaja was known for his wise judgments but also his sudden, unpredictable moods. Within the walls of his magnificent fort lay a sprawling royal bagh (orchard), filled with every exotic and native fruit imaginable.

This bagh was tended by a simple, dedicated farmer named Kishan Lal, who worked alongside his family and was utterly devoted to his service.

One sunny morning, Kishan Lal noticed a bounty of fruits had ripened simultaneously—heavy coconuts hanging from tall palms, firm, aromatic guavas, the deep purple of Indian plums (jamun), and lush, sweet bunches of grapes.

He pondered, his hands resting on his spade, "What choice offering shall I present to the Maharaja today?"

After a brief moment of reflection, he gently cut a beautiful cluster of grapes. He arranged them carefully in a daali (a shallow basket) and carried them toward the royal palace.

When he arrived, Maharaja Raghuvir Singh was seated on his marble diwan (throne), his face darkened with anger from some frustrating court matter. He looked troubled and remote. Kishan Lal quietly placed the basket of grapes at the Maharaja’s feet and waited respectfully, his head bowed.

The Maharaja, deep in thought, absentmindedly picked a grape and popped it into his mouth. Then, without thinking or looking at Kishan Lal, he picked another and flicked it sharply at the farmer. The small, soft fruit struck Kishan Lal's forehead.

Kishan Lal did not flinch, nor did he show any sign of pain or resentment. He simply raised his hands in a gesture of humility and softly said:

"How merciful is the grace of God."

The King, still preoccupied and moody, continued this strange ritual. He would eat one grape, then thoughtlessly throw the next one at the farmer. Each time the grape hit him, Kishan Lal calmly and sincerely repeated the same words:

"How merciful is the grace of Bhagwan."

After many minutes, the Maharaja snapped out of his foul mood and realized how he had been treating the loyal farmer. Feeling a sudden pang of guilt, he stared at Kishan Lal and asked,

"Kishan Lal, I have been using you as a target, striking you with fruit, yet you keep thanking God! Why do you thank Bhagwan when I am treating you so unfairly?"

Kishan Lal bowed again and replied with gentle wisdom, "My King, the orchard held many ripe fruits this morning. We had heavy coconuts, solid guavas, and sharp-edged plums. Any of these would have been a worthy offering for my King."

He then looked up at the Maharaja with genuine serenity. "I could have chosen any of them. Imagine, my King, if instead of these tender, soft grapes, you had struck me with a hard, heavy coconut or a firm guava, what grievous injury would have befallen your humble servant? That is why, from the bottom of my heart, I say: 'How merciful is the grace of Bhagwan.'"

The Maharaja was instantly humbled and deeply moved by Kishan Lal's profound perspective. He immediately rewarded the farmer for his wisdom and learned a powerful lesson about finding gratitude even in moments of hardship.

The Moral of the Story : Gratitude is not merely the absence of suffering, but the perspective to recognize that things could always be worse.