Birbal's Trip to Paradise

Emperor Akbar valued his wisest minister, Birbal, above all others. But not everyone in the royal court was happy about this. The Royal Barber, who trimmed the Emperor’s beard every morning, was extremely jealous. He wanted to be the Emperor’s favorite.

One day, the Barber hatched a cunning plan with some other envious courtiers. While he was carefully snipping the Emperor’s beard, he sighed deeply.

“What is the matter?” asked Akbar.

“Your Majesty,” said the Barber, putting on a sad face, “I had a dream last night about your great father, the late Emperor. He looked well, but his beard was very long and untidy. He asked me to send him a good barber.”

Akbar, who loved his father very much, sat up straight. “My father? But how can I send a barber to heaven?”

“There is a way,” lied the cunning Barber. “Through a special magical ceremony involving a great fire, we can send a wise and brave man to the spirit world. The smoke will carry him up. And since Birbal is the cleverest man in the kingdom, surely he can find a way to return after delivering the message—and giving your father a haircut, of course!”

The Barber knew that no one could survive a fire. He wanted Birbal gone forever.

Akbar, blinded by love for his father, called for Birbal. “Birbal,” he said, “you must go to heaven to check on my ancestors. The Barber says you are the only one wise enough for the journey.”

Birbal immediately realized it was a trick. The Barber wanted to trap him in a burning pyre! But Birbal remained calm. “I would be honored, Your Majesty,” he said. “But I need a month to settle my affairs and say goodbye to my family. And I request that the ceremony take place in the large field near my house.”

Akbar agreed.

For one month, Birbal worked day and night. But he wasn’t saying goodbyes. Instead, he hired trusted workers to dig a long, secret tunnel from the center of the field straight into the safety of his own home.

On the day of the ceremony, a huge pile of wood was arranged in the field. Birbal arrived, looking calm. He sat in the middle of the wood pile. As the Barber lit the fire, thick smoke began to rise. Hidden by the smoke, Birbal quickly slipped open a trapdoor he had prepared and slid down into his cool, dark tunnel. He crawled safely back to his house while the fire blazed above.

The Barber and his friends cheered silently. “Finally!” they thought. “Birbal is gone!”

But Birbal was very much alive. He hid inside his house for three whole weeks. He let his hair and beard grow long and wild until he looked like a completely different person.

After three weeks, Birbal marched into the royal court. Everyone gasped!

“Birbal!” shouted Akbar, rushing down from his throne. “You have returned! Tell me, how is my father?”

“He is very happy, Your Majesty,” Birbal said, stroking his long, messy beard. “Paradise is a wonderful place. But there is one small problem.”

“What is it?” asked Akbar.

“There are no barbers in heaven!” Birbal exclaimed. “Look at me! My hair and beard have grown so long in just a few weeks. Your father looks the same. He specifically asked me to request that you send your own Royal Barber to him immediately. He is in desperate need of a trim!”

Akbar turned to the Barber, whose face had gone pale with fear. “Of course!” Akbar declared. “My father needs you. Guards! Prepare the ceremony for the Barber at once!”

The Barber fell to his knees. “Mercy, Your Majesty!” he cried. “I lied! There is no way to go to heaven and come back! It was a trick to get rid of Birbal!”

Akbar was furious at the deception, but Birbal chuckled. “He has learned his lesson, my Lord. Let us banish him from the court instead.”

The Barber was sent away, and Birbal remained the Emperor’s favorite, proving once again that wit can defeat even the hottest fire.

Moral of the Story: Those who dig pits for others often fall into them themselves.