The Most Generous

King Vikramaditya tramped through the jungle, the vampire Betal hanging upside down on his shoulder. “You are stubborn, O King,” cackled Betal. “Let me tell you a story. If you can answer my question at the end, you must speak, or your head will shatter!”

In the beautiful city of Pataliputra, there lived a merchant’s daughter named Rupwati. She was as radiant as the moon and as gentle as a dove. Three young men loved her dearly. The first was Gyan, a scholar who knew the holy scriptures. The second was Bal, a warrior of great strength. The third was Tej, a young man with a kind heart but no special skills. Before Rupwati could choose a husband, a terrible tragedy struck. A wicked sorceress, jealous of her beauty, cast a dark spell on her. Rupwati fell into a deep, frozen sleep. Her breath stopped. She looked as cold as marble. The healers shook their heads. “She is gone,” they said. “This is a magic sleep from which no one wakes.” Her parents placed her body in a garden shrine, weeping.

The three suitors were heartbroken. Gyan, the scholar, took her favorite scarf. “I will go to the Himalayas,” he vowed. “I will pray to the Gods and seek a cure.” He left on a long pilgrimage. Bal, the warrior, took her necklace. “I will travel to the ends of the earth,” he promised. “I will find the sorceress and force her to break the spell.” Tej, the kind one, could not bear to leave her. He built a small hut next to the shrine. Day and night, he guarded her sleeping form. He cleaned the shrine, lit incense, and whispered stories to her, hoping she might hear. He protected her from wild animals and storms.

Months passed. Just as Tej was losing hope, Gyan returned. He had learned a powerful mantra from a great Sage. Bal also returned. He had found a magical herb after fighting many demons. “I can wake her!” shouted Gyan. “My mantra is powerful.” “I can wake her!” shouted Bal. “This herb is the antidote.” Tej said nothing but looked at Rupwati with love.

Gyan chanted his mantra. Bal applied the herb. Suddenly, color returned to Rupwati’s cheeks. Her eyelids fluttered. She took a deep breath and sat up, alive and well! She looked at the three men. “She is mine!” claimed Gyan. “I learned the mantra that gave her breath.” “She is mine!” claimed Bal. “I brought the herb that broke the spell.” “She is mine!” said Tej softly. “I never left her side.”

Betal asked, “Now, King Vikram, tell me. Who has the right to marry her? The one who gave her magic, the one who brought the cure, or the one who stayed? Answer!”

King Vikramaditya replied, “The answer is clear. Gyan, who gave her breath with his mantra, is like a creator or a father. He gave her life, so he cannot marry her. Bal, who brought the herb to heal her, is like a doctor or a brother. He saved her body, so he cannot marry her. But Tej… Tej gave her his time, his patience, and his constant care. He stayed by her when there was no hope. He served her without asking for anything. That is the true duty of a husband. Therefore, Tej is the rightful husband.”

“Brave King!” shrieked Betal. “You are wise! But you opened your mouth!” Whoosh! The vampire flew back to his peepul tree, laughing in the night.

Moral of the Story: True love is not just about grand gestures, but about constant, quiet devotion.