- Miyan chuckled. "Run away? Me? The son of a soldier? Never have I run, and never will I."
- "Break your silence, Bhattji! The bundle's been found!"
- "But maybe, just like the turban flew away, the bundle will come flying to us!"
Jivram Joshi
T he story so far: A man goes to bathe on the riverbank and leaves his bundle - which contains a pistol - while Miyan Fooski and Tabha Bhatt are nearby. When they return, Tabha Bhatt's turban is gone and the man's bundle has vanished, and the man angrily suspects the two of stealing it. Bhattji is terrified because the man is a dangerous bandit, but Miyan remains unnervingly calm and tells Bhatt not to worry. Miyan uses bold, theatrical gestures - twisting the bandit's nose, pulling his ears and tapping his skull - and passes these off as an "astrology test." Through flattery and solemn-sounding, ominous "readings" based on those taps, Miyan convinces the bandit that he is powerful and truthful, so the bandit's anger melts away. The bandit demands to know who took his bundle; Miyan deflects and says Bhattji (the "master fortune-teller") must be consulted, so he runs to fetch him. Miyan and Bhattji then claim that whatever took the turban will also have taken the bundle, so they must first find the turban to locate the bundle. The three search together: they briefly find Bhattji's turban, but a kite snatches it away, proving Miyan's claim that strange forces are at work. Soon after, a pistol falls from a tree and then a monkey is seen with the bandit's torn bundle, so the bandit realizes a monkey must have stolen it while he was bathing. The bandit, now convinced Miyan's "readings" are real, recovers his possessions, rewards Miyan a small gift and invites them to his camp, but Miyan and Bhattji tactfully take their leave. The episodes show Miyan's clever theatricality and quick thinking: by mixing showmanship, flattery and just-enough coincidence, he turns a dangerous confrontation into a harmless - even profitable - outcome. What happens next? Read on….
The man with the bundle stood deep in thought.
Should he believe Miyan Fooski or not?
The way Miyan had spoken made it sound almost impossible not to believe him.
But this Bagman was no fool. He wasn't the sort of man who could be easily tricked. He was, in fact, a bandit from the caves near the Mahisagar River.
Miyan Fooski noticed his hesitation and said,
"Why, dear Bagman Sahib, why do you look so lost in thought?"
The Bagman frowned.
"Look here, Miyan," he said. "Don't try to fool me with your fancy astrology tricks. Maybe you can cheat simple villagers in the name of stars or goddesses-but not me! I'm not one of those naive bumpkins."
Miyan Fooski laughed gently.
"What are you saying, my good man? I'm the son of a soldier-I never cheat anyone for gain. Not a single dishonest coin have I ever touched. I'm not a politician, after all! Whatever I said, I said truthfully-one hundred percent true. You tell me yourself: my reading of your face, nose, and forehead wasn't wrong, was it?"
The Bagman smirked.
"In every five lies, two might come true by chance. That doesn't mean you're a real astrologer. If you're truly what you claim, tell me where my bundle went and who took it. Until you get that right, I won't let you go."
Miyan nodded seriously.
"Accepted! And I like your spirit. A true man demands proof. Those fake astrologers who read horoscopes or chant mantras are all frauds. Their talk is like those who, when a strike happens, declare, 'Peace will soon be restored!'-but nothing happens! Anyone could predict that-of course a fire will stop burning eventually! But me, Miyan Fooski, I don't talk like that."
The Bagman growled, "Fine, then. Find my bundle! Tell me who took it. If you can't, your little tricks will become the cause of your death!"
Miyan calmly replied,
"Dear Sahib, even if you think I'm bluffing, remember this-whatever I say comes true. That's how real astrologers work. You must have faith in the stars."
The Bagman said, "Alright, but first find my turban too."
Miyan nodded. "Yes, yes! Let's begin. I'll call Bhattji Maharaj to help."
"Just remember," warned the Bagman, "if you try to run, you're a dead man."
Miyan chuckled. "Run away? Me? The son of a soldier? Never have I run, and never will I."
With that, Miyan went to find Bhattji.
Bhattji stood still like a wooden puppet, lips tight, eyes cold.
Miyan said, "If you stand like that, puffed up with anger, you'll die without a wound! Such is the alignment of stars today."
Bhattji snapped, "And who told you to make such alignments, ha?"
Miyan replied, "Your turban did! The Bagman says we must find it first-only then can we search for his bundle. And if we don't, he'll chop our heads off."
Bhattji was furious. Grinding his teeth, he said,
"What foolish mess have you got me into? I don't care about that turban anymore!"
"But Bhattji," said Miyan, "you asked me to do this. Whether you want it or not, we must find the turban. The Bagman won't let us go without it."
"The turban is mine," Bhattji said, "and I don't need it. What's it to that thief?"
Miyan said slyly, "You're revealing our secret, Bhattji. The truth is, where your turban went, there too went the Bagman's bundle. Find the turban, and we'll find the bundle. That's what the stars say!"
Bhattji grumbled, "Enough of your nonsense, Miyan! You're no astrologer-you're a storyteller!"
Miyan replied, "Argue all you want, Bhattji, but that Bagman isn't an ordinary man-he's a bandit! There's no escaping him."
"Then go die!" Bhattji snapped. "I have nothing more to say."
Miyan grinned widely. "Ah, wonderful! Finally, wisdom dawns upon you. I'll tell our bandit friend that our Bhattji has taken a vow of silence. He can't speak, but by gestures he said the turban will be found-and then, so will the bundle."
Bhattji said, "If you keep talking like this, you'll land in deeper trouble. What if the turban doesn't turn up?"
"Dear Bhattji," Miyan smiled, "all astrologers talk like this. They keep people hopeful. We must do the same."
Just then, the Bagman shouted.
Miyan ran off quickly, calling over his shoulder, "Don't say a word, Bhattji!"
He arrived before the bandit, saluted him by lifting his cap halfway off, and rubbed his head as if to gather divine wisdom.
The bandit asked, "Well? What does your Bhattji say?"
Miyan replied solemnly, "That's the issue, Sahib. He's taken a vow of silence. Just as I reached him, his vow began. He won't speak for four days. But through gestures he told me that you are a very lucky man. Great fortune awaits you soon! Only one planet-Mercury-is troubling you. Because of that, your mind often tricks you-you think of profit, but loss comes instead. You plan to earn a lakh, but end up with a few thousand."
The bandit's eyes widened. "Exactly! Just recently I thought I'd loot ten thousand rupees, but got only five hundred! Another time, I expected five thousand, got only one!"
Miyan thought to himself, That's true for everyone. Nobody ever gets as much as they expect.
The bandit said, "So what now?"
"Now," Miyan replied, "we must find the turban. The Bhattji will rest-his vow forbids speech. We two will search together."
"Alright," said the bandit.
Both started searching. They walked here and there, turning stones, peeking behind bushes.
Suddenly the bandit exclaimed, "Hey! What's that?"
Miyan looked. "Aha!" he shouted, running toward it. He bent down, glanced carefully-and then spun around dramatically, shouting, "Come quickly! Run!"
The bandit dashed over.
"Look," said Miyan triumphantly, "behold the miracle of my astrology!"
The bandit asked, "What is it?"
"This," said Miyan proudly, "is our Bhattji's turban!"
"The turban?" the bandit asked, surprised.
"Yes indeed!" said Miyan. "Isn't it glorious-like Shivaji Maharaj's shield?"
The bandit scratched his head. "But how did it get here?"
Miyan smiled. "My astrology drew it here! You thought I was bluffing, didn't you?"
"Well," the bandit admitted, "I did think so."
They turned to call Bhattji. He was sulking in the distance, sitting cross-legged on the ground.
"Come quickly, Bhattji!" Miyan shouted. "Your turban has been found!"
At the sound of turban, Bhattji got up, irritated.
"Don't crawl like a baby elephant!" Miyan teased. "Run like a drunk donkey!"
Bhattji stomped toward them. Just then, a gust of wind whooshed past. They looked up-and gasped!
A kite swooped down, grabbed the turban in its claws, and flew up again.
The bandit screamed, "Hey! That kite took the turban!"
All three watched as the bird flew away.
Miyan turned to Bhattji. "See, Bhattji! There goes your turban!"
Bhattji looked up and realized what must have happened-the kite must have mistaken his bright red turban for a piece of meat while he was bathing.
The bandit said, "Fine, the turban's found. Now find my bundle. If you do that, I'll believe your astrology."
Miyan said confidently, "Just as the turban was found, the bundle will be too-one hundred percent certain. Maybe not today, maybe tomorrow, but surely by the day after."
"And if not even then?" the bandit asked.
"Then on the fourth day," said Miyan.
"And if not the fourth?"
"Then the fifth!"
"And if not the fifth?"
"Then surely the sixth!"
"And if not even the sixth?"
"That cannot happen," Miyan said gravely. "But if it does, then the bundle simply isn't written in your fate."
The bandit growled. "We'll see about that!"
"Of course," said Miyan. "You'll remember what Miyan Fooski said. Now, let's go-the turban wasn't meant to stay. It left because it wasn't in Bhattji's destiny."
"Not so fast," said the bandit sternly. "You can't leave yet."
"Why not?"
"Because you'll go only after I get my bundle. We bandits trust no one. Start searching!"
Miyan realized the bandit was sharp-he'd need a clever new move.
"Alright then," said Miyan cheerfully. "Let's waste no time. Let's search again."
The bandit nodded. "If the astrologer's turban turned up, my bundle will too."
"Yes, yes," said Miyan. "But maybe, just like the turban flew away, the bundle will come flying to us!"
"Ha!" said the bandit. "We'll see. Once I see it, no one will dare touch it again."
"Then come," said Miyan. "Let's find it."
They began searching again.
Meanwhile, Bhattji sat quietly under a tree, fuming at Miyan's endless talk. He feared that the bandit was too clever to be fooled for long.
Hours passed. The sun began to set.
The bandit, sweating and tired, said, "When will we ever find it? My legs are aching!"
"Don't lose hope," Miyan said calmly. "You'll find it soon."
"But when?" the bandit demanded.
"Ah, what a fine question!" Miyan said grandly. "If our Prime Minister Indira had asked me this, I'd have told her-'O Queen of India, fierce lioness of the land! The stars show a perfect bundle alignment! A few more blasts, and your lost prestige will rise again!'"
"Enough nonsense!" the bandit roared. "If you speak Indira's name again, I'll shoot you! Just tell me when I'll get my bundle. My feet hurt!"
Miyan looked around and pointed. "See that tree there?"
"Yes," said the bandit. "It's a tamarind tree."
"Excellent omen!" said Miyan. "Let's rest under it for a moment. Lucky are those who rest when the stars say so."
The bandit agreed. They sat down in the shade.
Just then-thump! Something fell from the tree.
"What's this?" shouted the bandit, jumping up. He leapt forward like a cat on a mouse, grabbed the fallen object, and looked at it with wide eyes.
"Miyan Fooski! Look! My pistol!"
Indeed-it was a pistol.
"That's the same pistol I tied inside my bundle!" said the bandit, thrilled.
Miyan clapped his hands. "See! My prediction was right-first the turban, now your pistol!"
"But where's the bundle?" asked the bandit.
"The bundle followed the turban," said Miyan lightly. "But your pistol has returned-that's a good sign!"
The bandit was overjoyed. "Call Bhattji! Once we reach my den, we'll celebrate. I'll feed you both sweets and give you a fine reward. And if your next prediction brings me a big loot-one or two lakhs-I'll fill a bundle for you myself with hundred-rupee notes!"
As they laughed, something else fell from the tamarind tree-a torn cloth.
The bandit stared. "Hey! That's my bundle!"
He ran, picked it up, and saw that its clothes had been pulled apart. Above them, a monkey was chattering on a branch.
"Now I see!" shouted the bandit. "When I was bathing, that monkey must've stolen my bundle!"
Miyan laughed. "See? I told you! The son of a soldier's prediction never fails!"
Just then Bhattji arrived.
Miyan embraced him joyfully. "Break your silence, Bhattji! The bundle's been found!"
"Found?" said Bhattji, seeing the pistol and bundle in the bandit's hands.
The bandit now fully believed in their "powers." He begged them to visit his camp, promising rewards.
But Miyan said, "The hour isn't lucky. We must go now."
The bandit took out a ten-rupee note and gave it as a gift to Miyan Fooski.
The two friends walked away.
Bhattji sighed in relief. "Thank goodness we survived. No more of your nonsense, please!"
Miyan Fooski chuckled.
"All astrologers speak like this, Bhattji. And sometimes-just sometimes-their talk turns out to be true… just like the turban and the bundle."
…And then Dadaji sighed with relief and said, "So that's it-the story ends here! Now off you go to bed, or you'll be late for school tomorrow."
Sonu and Monu, delighted by the tale of their favorite character, Miya Fooski, beamed with joy.
"Thank you, Dadaji… good night!" they said, kissing their grandparents affectionately on the cheeks before happily heading to bed.
