A Royal Thief-Catcher
A Royal Thief-Catcher
Adapted from Hindu Tales from the Sanskrit, translated by S. M. Mitra (1919)
In the small city of Sravasti, a crowd gathered one scorching day to observe a weary stranger who had just entered their town. The man walked with great difficulty, his feet sore from traveling long distances on rough roads. He was a Brahman—a holy man who had devoted his life to prayer and renounced worldly comforts.
The Brahman carried only a staff to support his journey and a bowl for receiving offerings. He wore nothing but a simple cloth around his loins, and his long hair was matted from lack of care. Making his way slowly through the curious onlookers, he found a shady corner where he sank down exhausted, holding out his bowl.
The people of Sravasti were eager to help this holy visitor. Though the Brahman would accept only unhusked rice to eat and pure water to drink, he willingly took money. When the townspeople discovered this, they brought him silver and gold coins. Those without money offered jewels and other valuable items that could be sold.
As time passed, the Brahman became well-known throughout Sravasti and beyond. People traveled from distant places to seek his wisdom, paying generously for his advice. Soon, the holy man accumulated considerable wealth. Yet instead of using this money to help those in need, he developed an unhealthy attachment to it.
At night, when no one would discover his secret, the Brahman would steal away into the forest. There, beneath a great tree, he had dug a deep hole where he hid all his money and jewels. During the afternoon siesta, when everyone else rested to escape the intense heat, the Brahman would often skip his own rest to visit his treasure. He would bend down, clear away the concealing earth and leaves, and delight in letting the coins slip through his fingers and holding the jewels up to catch the light.
The Brahman was never happier than during these solitary moments with his riches. He found it increasingly difficult to tear himself away when the time came to return to his place beneath the tree in town. What had begun as a life of spiritual devotion was transforming into one of miserly obsession, though none of the townspeople suspected the truth.
For many months, the Brahman led this double life—appearing as a poor holy man by day while secretly hoarding wealth. Then one day, when he went to his hiding place, he immediately sensed something was wrong. Despite all his care in concealing the hole, it was completely empty.
At first, the Brahman couldn’t believe what he saw. He rubbed his eyes, thinking they must be deceiving him. He felt around the hole, hoping he was mistaken. When finally forced to accept the terrible truth that his treasure was gone, he nearly lost his mind with grief.
He ran frantically from tree to tree, searching their roots. Finding nothing, he returned to his empty hole to look again. He wept, tore at his hair, stamped about, and cried out to the gods, making desperate promises if only they would return his treasures.
When no divine intervention came, the Brahman began to wonder who could have committed such a terrible act. He convinced himself it must have been someone from Sravasti, remembering how many townspeople had looked longingly at the money and jewels in his bowl. “What horrible, wicked people,” he thought bitterly. “I hate them. I wish I could hurt them as they have hurt me.” His anger grew until he was completely exhausted by his own rage.
After wandering the forest for hours, the Brahman returned to the home in Sravasti where kind people had provided him a room. He was certain these particular hosts were innocent, as they had shown many proofs of their goodness and honesty. He poured out his grief to them, and they tried to comfort him, assuring him he would soon have plenty more money and jewels.
However, they gently suggested it had been selfish of him to hide away his riches instead of using them to help those in need. This criticism only fueled his despair. “It is not worth living any longer,” he declared. “I will go to a holy place of pilgrimage by the river and starve myself to death.”
News of the Brahman’s loss spread quickly through Sravasti, growing more distorted with each telling. The townspeople were distressed, both because they were proud to have such a supposedly holy man living among them and because they were ashamed he had been robbed while under their protection. When they heard of his plan to starve himself, they were horrified and determined to prevent it.
The leading citizens came one after another to reason with him. Some thought he was overreacting and criticized his attachment to material wealth. One particularly wise elder gave him a lengthy lecture on the wrongness of taking the life that God had given him to prepare for the next world. “Forget this idea of starving yourself,” the old man advised. “While we search for your treasure, continue as before. And next time you have money and jewels, use them for good rather than hoarding them.”
Despite all these arguments, the Brahman remained determined to end his life. He set off toward his chosen pilgrimage site, ignoring everyone he met. Though many followed him at first, they gradually turned back, and soon he walked alone.
Then the Brahman noticed a distinguished figure approaching from ahead. This was no ordinary man but Prasnajit, the king of the entire country. Tall, handsome, and dignified, the king commanded universal respect. Behind him, at a distance, waited his attendants.
Everyone, including the Brahman, loved King Prasnajit because he took such genuine interest in his people’s welfare. The king had heard about the stolen treasure and was troubled that such a crime had occurred in his land. He was even more distressed by the Brahman’s suicide plan, which he considered both wicked and terrible.
The king positioned himself directly in the Brahman’s path, making it impossible to pass without acknowledgment. The unhappy man stood still, head bowed in misery. Without hesitation, Prasnajit spoke: “Do not grieve anymore. I will find your treasure and return it to you. If I fail, I will pay you its full value from my own purse. I cannot bear the thought of you taking your life. Now, tell me exactly where you hid your gold and jewels, and everything about the place to help me find it.”
The Brahman was overjoyed, knowing the king would keep his word. Even if his own treasure was never recovered, the king would compensate him fully. He immediately described the hiding place and offered to show the king personally. Prasnajit agreed, and they went directly to the empty hole in the forest, with the attendants following at a distance.
After examining the hole and noting its exact location and the nearest route from town, the king returned to his palace. He instructed the Brahman to go back to his lodgings and wait for a message. The king promised to ensure all his needs were met and sent an attendant to order a wealthy merchant to provide for the holy man. Relieved that he would not die after all, the Brahman willingly obeyed and was well cared for by the merchant over the following days.
Back at the palace, King Prasnajit pretended to fall suddenly ill, complaining of a severe headache. He ordered a proclamation sent throughout the town, summoning all doctors to the palace. The physicians hurried to obey, each hoping to cure the king and earn a substantial reward.
So many doctors arrived that the reception room was filled to capacity, with attendants keeping careful watch to prevent quarrels among the rivals. One by one, they were escorted to the king’s private chamber, where they found, to their surprise, that Prasnajit appeared perfectly healthy. Instead of discussing his own condition, the king questioned each doctor about their patients in town and what treatments they were prescribing.
After brief interviews, most doctors were dismissed with a simple wave of the royal hand. Finally, a famous healer arrived who mentioned something that caught the king’s attention. This doctor had saved many lives in the kingdom and told the king about a merchant named Matri-Datta who was seriously ill. The physician hoped to cure him with the juice of a plant called nagaballa.
Upon hearing this, the king exclaimed, “No more doctors need come to see me!” He dismissed the physician and ordered that Matri-Datta be brought to the palace immediately.
Despite his illness and suffering, Matri-Datta dared not disobey the royal summons. When he arrived, Prasnajit expressed concern for his health and apologized for requiring his presence during his illness, explaining that the matter was extremely important. Then the king suddenly asked, “When your doctor ordered you to take the juice of the nagaballa plant, whom did you send to find it?”
Trembling with fear, Matri-Datta replied, “My servant, O king, sought it in the forest and brought it to me.”
“Go back and send that servant to me immediately,” the king commanded. The merchant hurried away, wondering why the king wanted to see his servant and hoping he himself wasn’t in trouble.
When the servant arrived, the king questioned him closely about exactly where he had found the nagaballa plant. The man explained that he had discovered it growing near the roots of a large tree deep in the forest—the very same tree beneath which the Brahman had buried his treasure.
Through this clever investigation, King Prasnajit identified the thief and recovered the stolen wealth. The Brahman received his treasure back, having learned valuable lessons about attachment and the true purpose of wealth. The king’s wisdom and justice were celebrated throughout the kingdom, and the people of Sravasti once again felt secure under his rule.
This ancient tale reminds us that wisdom often lies not in what we possess, but in how we use our gifts. The Brahman’s journey from spiritual seeker to miser—and back again—shows how easily we can become attached to material things. Meanwhile, King Prasnajit demonstrates that true leadership combines compassion with clever problem-solving, serving the needs of all people, even those who have lost their way.
