A Clever Thief
A Clever Thief
Adapted from Hindu Tales from the Sanskrit, translated by S. M. Mitra (1919)
In a small Indian village where no one was wealthy and everyone worked hard for their daily bread, lived a man named Hari-Sarman. Unlike his hardworking neighbors, Hari-Sarman was extraordinarily lazy, as was his wife Vidya. They had a large family but made no effort to teach their children how to earn an honest living. Instead, they sent their children out to beg or steal while they stayed home doing nothing. If not for the kindness of their neighbors, the family would have starved.
One day, tired of their difficult life, Hari-Sarman said to his wife, “Let’s leave this place and go to a big city where we can find an easier way to live. I’ll pretend to be a wise man who can discover secrets, and you can claim to be an expert on children, having raised so many.”
Vidya readily agreed, and the family set out, carrying their few possessions. Eventually, they reached a large town where Hari-Sarman boldly approached the grandest house while his family waited outside. He asked to see the master and was brought before a wealthy merchant who owned extensive estates in the countryside.
The merchant, not particularly discerning, believed Hari-Sarman’s story completely. He offered work for both Hari-Sarman and Vidya, and said the children could be sent to his farm in the country where they could be useful. Overjoyed, Hari-Sarman hurried out to tell his wife the good news. They were given a small room in the grand house, while their children were taken to the farm, delighted by this change from their previous miserable existence.
Soon after their arrival, an important event took place—the merchant’s eldest daughter was getting married. The preparations were extensive, and Vidya eagerly participated, helping in the kitchen to prepare delicious dishes while enjoying the luxury of the wealthy household. With plenty to do and plenty to eat, Vidya became happier than she had ever been and began to regret not being a better mother to her children. She thought, “After the wedding, I’ll go see how they’re doing.” However, she rarely thought about her husband and seldom saw him.
For Hari-Sarman, the situation was entirely different. He had no specific duties, and nobody seemed to want him around. When he went to the kitchen, the busy servants ordered him to get out of their way. Neither the owner of the house nor his guests made him feel welcome. Even the merchant who had hired him seemed to have forgotten his existence. Lonely and miserable, Hari-Sarman had been looking forward to enjoying the delicious wedding feast, but now he began to grumble.
“I’m starving in the midst of plenty,” he complained to himself. “Something must be done to change this terrible situation.”
While wedding preparations continued, Vidya never came to see her husband. He lay awake at night thinking, “What can I do to make the master send for me?” Suddenly, an idea came to him. “I’ll steal something valuable and hide it. Then, when everyone is being questioned about the loss, the merchant will remember the man who can reveal secrets. But what should I take that will definitely be missed?”
After some thought, he decided on his target. The merchant owned many beautiful horses kept in splendid stables and cared for meticulously. Among them was a lovely little Arab mare, the special favorite of the bride, who often visited to pet it and give it sugar.
“I’ll steal that mare and hide it in the forest,” Hari-Sarman thought wickedly. “Then, when everyone is searching for it, the master will remember the man who can reveal secrets and will send for me.”
He knew the stablemen and grooms would be feasting, as he had seen them when trying to find his wife. He could easily climb through a window that was always left open. His plan worked perfectly—he met no one on his way to the deserted stables, got in easily, opened the door from inside, and led out the little mare, which offered no resistance, having always been treated kindly.
He took the beautiful animal deep into the forest, tied her up securely, and returned to his room without being seen.
Early the next morning, the merchant’s daughter, accompanied by her attendants, went to visit her beloved mare with an extra supply of sugar. She was distraught to find the stall empty! Immediately guessing that a thief had entered during the night, she hurried to tell her father, who was furious with the stablemen who had abandoned their posts and threatened to have them all flogged.
“But the first priority is to recover the mare,” the merchant declared, and ordered messengers to be sent in every direction, promising a substantial reward to anyone who provided information about the mare’s whereabouts.
Vidya heard all the commotion and immediately suspected her husband’s involvement. “He probably hid the mare himself and plans to claim the reward for finding it,” she thought. She requested an audience with the master of the house, and when granted, she said:
“Why not send for my husband, the man who can reveal secrets? He has a remarkable gift for seeing what is hidden from others. Many times he has amazed me with his abilities.”
Hearing this, the merchant immediately told her to fetch her husband. To her surprise, Hari-Sarman refused to come. “You can tell the master whatever you want,” he said angrily. “Everyone forgot about me yesterday, and now that you need my help, you suddenly remember I exist. I won’t be at anyone’s beck and call.”
Vidya begged him to be reasonable, but he wouldn’t listen. She had to return and tell the merchant that he refused to come. Instead of becoming angry, however, the master surprised her by saying, “Your husband is right. I’ve treated him poorly. Go tell him I apologize and will reward him generously if he’ll help me.”
Vidya returned to her husband, and this time she was more successful, though Hari-Sarman remained sullen and wouldn’t answer any of her questions. She couldn’t understand his behavior and regretted leaving him alone for so long.
When they met with the merchant, who received him kindly and acknowledged his wisdom and cleverness, Hari-Sarman continued his sulky behavior. “You didn’t think much of me yesterday,” he grumbled. “Nobody paid any attention to me then, but now that you need something from me, you suddenly discover I’m wise and clever. I’m exactly the same person I was yesterday.”
“I know, I know,” said the merchant, “and I apologize for neglecting you. But when a man’s daughter is getting married, it’s not surprising that someone gets overlooked.”
Deciding it was time to change his approach, Hari-Sarman reached into his pocket and pulled out a map he had prepared while waiting to be summoned. He spread it before the merchant and pointed to a dark spot amid a confusing network of intersecting lines, which he explained were pathways through the forest.
“Under a tree, where that dark spot is, you will find the mare,” he declared.
Overjoyed at this news, the merchant immediately sent a trusted servant to verify the information. When the mare was brought back, nothing seemed too good for the man who had led to her recovery. At the wedding festivities, Hari-Sarman was treated as an honored guest and no longer had to complain about not having enough food. His wife naturally expected him to forgive her for neglecting him, but he continued to sulk, and she could never be certain what really happened with the mare.
All went well for Hari-Sarman for quite some time. But then something occurred that threatened to cause him serious trouble. A quantity of gold and valuable jewels disappeared from the palace of the country’s king, and when the thief couldn’t be found, someone told the king about the stolen mare and how a man called Hari-Sarman, living in a rich merchant’s house in the main city, had found it when everyone else had failed.
“Bring that man here immediately,” ordered the king, and very soon Hari-Sarman was standing before him.
“I hear you’re so wise you can reveal all secrets,” said the king. “Now tell me at once who has stolen the gold and jewels and where they can be found.”
Poor Hari-Sarman didn’t know what to say or do. “Give me until tomorrow,” he replied in a trembling voice. “I need some time to think.”
“I won’t give you a single hour,” answered the king. Seeing the man’s fear, he began to suspect deception. “If you don’t tell me immediately where the gold and jewels are, I’ll have you flogged until you find your tongue.”
Hearing this, Hari-Sarman, though more terrified than ever, realized his only chance of gaining time to invent a story was to convince the king of his abilities. So he drew himself up and answered, “Even the wisest magicians need to employ methods to discover the truth. Give me twenty-four hours, and I will name the thieves.”
“You’re not much of a magician if you can’t find out something as simple as what I’m asking,” said the king. Turning to the guards, he ordered them to take Hari-Sarman to prison and lock him up without food or drink until he came to his senses.
The man was dragged away and soon found himself alone in a dark, gloomy room from which he saw no hope of escape. He was in despair and paced back and forth, trying vainly to think of some way out. “I’ll die of starvation here unless my wife finds a way to free me,” he lamented. “I wish I had treated her better instead of being so sulky.” He tried the window bars, but they were very strong and couldn’t be moved. He beat against the door, but no one responded.
When darkness fell in the prison, Hari-Sarman began talking to himself aloud. “Oh,” he cried, “I wish I had bitten my tongue out before telling that lie about the mare. It’s all because of my foolish tongue that I’m in this trouble. Tongue! Tongue! It’s all your fault.”
Now a very strange thing happened. The money and jewels had been stolen by a man who had been told where they were by a young servant girl in the palace whose name was Jihva, which is the Sanskrit word for “tongue.” This girl was terrified when she heard that a revealer of secrets had been brought before the king. “He’ll expose my role in the theft,” she thought, “and I’ll be in serious trouble.”
As it happened, the guard at the prison door was fond of her, as was the thief who had stolen the valuables. So when all was quiet in the palace, Jihva slipped away to see if she could persuade the guard to let her speak with the prisoner. “If I promise him some of the money,” she thought, “he’ll agree not to betray me.”
The guard was pleased when Jihva came to talk to him, and he allowed her to listen at the keyhole to what Hari-Sarman was saying. Imagine her astonishment when she heard him repeating her name over and over! “Jihva! Jihva!” he cried. “You are the cause of this suffering. Why did you behave so foolishly, just for material gain? I can never forgive you, Jihva, you wicked, wicked one!”
“Oh! Oh!” exclaimed Jihva in terror. “He knows the truth! He knows I helped the thief!” She begged the guard to let her into the prison so she could plead with Hari-Sarman not to tell the king what she had done. The man hesitated at first but eventually agreed when she promised him a large reward.
When the key turned in the lock, Hari-Sarman stopped talking aloud, wondering if the guard had overheard him and half hoping his wife had been allowed to visit. As the door opened and he saw a woman entering by the light of the guard’s lantern, he cried, “Vidya, my beloved!” But he quickly realized it was a stranger.
He was indeed surprised and relieved when Jihva suddenly threw herself at his feet and, clinging to his knees, began to weep and plead. “Oh, most holy man,” she sobbed, “who knows the very secrets of the heart, I have come to confess that it was indeed I, Jihva, your humble servant, who helped the thief take the jewels and gold and hide them beneath the large pomegranate tree behind the palace.”
“Rise,” replied Hari-Sarman, overjoyed at this revelation. “You have told me nothing I didn’t already know, for no secret is hidden from me. What reward will you give me if I save you from the king’s wrath?”
“I will give you all the money I have,” said Jihva, “and it’s not a small amount.”
“That too I knew,” said Hari-Sarman. “For you earn good wages, and many times you have stolen money that wasn’t yours. Go now and fetch it all, and have no fear that I will betray you.”
Without delay, Jihva hurried away to get the money. But when she returned with it, the guard, who had heard everything that passed between her and Hari-Sarman, wouldn’t let her back into the prison until she gave him ten gold pieces. Thinking that Hari-Sarman truly knew exactly how much money she had, Jihva feared he would be angry when he noticed some missing. Again she revealed the truth, which he might never have guessed.
“I brought all I had,” she explained immediately, “but the man at the door took ten pieces.” This delighted Hari-Sarman, who now knew how much to ask for. “I know that also,” he replied. “For nothing is hidden from me. Fear not; I will not betray you or the guard. But now listen to me. You must go to the king and tell him that a holy man has been wrongfully imprisoned, a man who knows all secrets but keeps them to himself unless compelled to reveal them. Tell him that you have learnt from this man that the gold and jewels he lost are buried beneath the big pomegranate tree behind the palace.”
Jihva promised to do as she was told and hurried away, determined to win the king’s favor by helping him recover his lost treasures. The king was overjoyed when she led him to the exact spot where the gold and jewels were buried, and he ordered Hari-Sarman to be released immediately and brought before him.
When Hari-Sarman arrived, the king treated him with the greatest honor and heaped rewards upon him. The supposed revealer of secrets accepted everything without any sign of surprise, behaving as if it were only what he had expected. The king was so impressed that he appointed him as his special adviser, giving him rooms in the palace next to his own.
For a time, all went well with Hari-Sarman. Vidya was sent for to join her husband at court, and she was as proud as he was of the change in their fortunes. The king constantly consulted Hari-Sarman, and everyone believed he could reveal all secrets. But the thief who had stolen the gold and jewels, and who had been helped by Jihva, was afraid that Hari-Sarman would sooner or later tell who had taken the treasures and get him into trouble. So he decided to kill the revealer of secrets.
One night, he climbed up a tree overlooking Hari-Sarman’s bedroom and waited, thinking, “When all is still, I will creep in and drive my dagger through his heart.”
But what the thief didn’t know was that the king had ordered two guards to keep watch outside Hari-Sarman’s window, because he was afraid someone might try to harm his new adviser. When Hari-Sarman went to bed that night, he couldn’t sleep. Again and again, he thought, “My luck will surely turn. The king will find out I’m not what he thinks I am, and then I’ll be punished as I deserve.”
He lay tossing and turning, and at midnight he rose from his bed with a deep sigh and exclaimed, “The first is here, but where are the second and third?”
He was counting the watches of the night, but the thief thought he was speaking of him and his two accomplices, the guard and Jihva. Terrified that his secret was discovered, he fell from the tree, right at the feet of the two guards, who at once seized him and dragged him before the king.
When the wretched thief was questioned, he confessed everything, thinking that Hari-Sarman had revealed his guilt and that it was useless to deny it. He was condemned to death, and Hari-Sarman’s reputation as a revealer of secrets was established more firmly than ever.
The king heaped more and more riches upon his favorite, and Vidya lived in luxury for the rest of her life. Her husband also had everything that heart could wish for, but he never felt really happy or at ease. He was always dreading that something would happen to prove that he couldn’t reveal secrets, and then he would lose all he had gained.
This ancient tale reminds us that deception, even when it brings temporary success, carries with it the burden of constant fear and the threat of eventual discovery. Through Hari-Sarman’s story, we see how a series of lucky coincidences can be mistaken for wisdom, but such false reputation brings little true happiness. The story also illustrates how our words, even when spoken without knowledge of their significance, can have unexpected consequences in ways we could never imagine.
