The Milk of an Ox

Emperor Akbar loved to test his witty minister, Birbal. Sometimes, he would ask very strange questions just to see if Birbal could answer them. One evening, the Emperor was in a teasing mood. He called the royal court to order and looked at Birbal with a mischievous smile. “Birbal,” said the Emperor, “I am feeling weak. The royal doctor says I must drink a special kind of milk.” “What kind of milk, Jahanpanah?” asked Birbal respectfully. “Ox’s milk,” said Akbar. “Yes, I need a pot of fresh Ox’s milk. Bring it to me by tomorrow morning, or you will be punished for failing your Emperor.” The entire court went silent. The ministers looked at each other. Everyone knew that cows give milk, buffaloes give milk, goats give milk… but an Ox? An Ox is a male cow! It is impossible for an Ox to give milk! The jealous courtiers smiled. “Finally,” they thought, “Birbal will fail. He cannot do the impossible.”

Birbal bowed. “As you wish, Your Majesty,” he said calmly, though his mind was racing. He went home looking worried. His clever daughter, seeing his frown, asked, “Father, what is wrong?” Birbal explained the Emperor’s impossible demand. To his surprise, his daughter laughed. “Is that all? Eat your dinner and sleep peacefully, Father. I will handle this.”

Later that night, when the moon was high, Birbal’s daughter took a bundle of clothes and walked to the riverbank which was just below the Emperor’s bedroom window. She started washing the clothes. Thump! Splash! Thump! She beat the clothes against the rocks loudly. She sang loudly and made as much noise as possible. It was midnight! The noise drifted up to the palace window. Emperor Akbar woke up with a start. He was grumpy. “Who is making that racket at this hour?” he roared. He sent his guards to bring the noisy person to him. The guards brought the young girl to the royal chamber. She was holding her bundle of wet clothes. “Who are you?” shouted Akbar. “Don’t you know people are sleeping? Why are you washing clothes in the middle of the night?”

The girl bowed respectfully. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. I had no choice. My father gave birth to a baby boy late this evening. We were all so busy attending to him that I didn’t have time to wash his dirty clothes until now.” Akbar stared at her. He blinked. “Your… father… gave birth?” “Yes, My Lord,” she said innocently. Akbar laughed. “Are you mad, girl? Since when do men give birth to babies? That is impossible! Only women have babies!”

The girl smiled. A spark of intelligence shone in her eyes. “Just as impossible as an Ox giving milk, Your Majesty?” she asked softly. Akbar stopped laughing. He looked at the girl, then he remembered his command to Birbal. He realized this must be Birbal’s daughter. “Ah,” said Akbar, a smile spreading across his face. “You are truly your father’s daughter. You have answered my trick with a trick.” He accepted his defeat and sent the girl home with gifts for her “newborn brother” (which was just a joke) and a reward for Birbal.

Moral of the Story: A foolish question deserves a clever answer. Wit can solve even impossible problems.

Moral of the Story: A foolish question deserves a clever answer.