The Beetle and the Silken Thread
# The Beetle and the Silken Thread
*Adapted from Hindu Tales from the Sanskrit, translated by S. M. Mitra (1919)*
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In the sacred city of Allahabad—”the City of God”—situated near the meeting point of India’s holy rivers, the Ganges and the Jumna, there once lived a powerful ruler named Surya Pratap, meaning “Powerful as the Sun.” He was a hot-tempered and selfish Raja who demanded immediate obedience from everyone and punished hesitation with cruel severity. He never listened to explanations or admitted mistakes, even when he knew he was wrong.
The Raja had a chief vizier named Dhairya-Sila, “the Patient One,” who never lost his temper regardless of provocation. The vizier lived in a beautiful house with much wealth, fine carriages, noble horses, and many servants—all gifts from his master. But what he treasured most was his faithful wife, Buddhi-Mati, “the Sensible One,” whom he had chosen himself and who would have died for him.
Many of the Raja’s subjects envied Dhairya-Sila and frequently accused him of wrongdoing. The Raja ignored these accusations and punished those who tried to turn him against his favorite. It seemed nothing could harm Dhairya-Sila, though he often warned his wife that such good fortune couldn’t last forever.
His prediction proved correct when one day Surya Pratap ordered him to do something he considered shameful. The vizier refused, telling his master that the action was wrong and that his conscience would never let him rest if he proceeded. Hearing these brave words, the Raja flew into a terrible rage. He summoned his guards and ordered them to take Dhairya-Sila to a very tall tower outside the city, leaving him at the top with no shelter from the sun and nothing to eat or drink.
The guards hesitated at first, remembering how others had been punished merely for speaking against the vizier. Seeing their reluctance, the Raja grew even angrier. But Dhairya-Sila remained calm and said to the soldiers, “I go with you gladly. It is for the master to command and for me to obey.”
The guards were relieved they wouldn’t have to drag him away, as they admired his courage and suspected the Raja would soon realize he couldn’t manage without him. So they simply surrounded him, and Dhairya-Sila walked to the tower as if he were quite content to go, though he knew he would need all his cleverness to escape with his life.
When her husband didn’t return home that night, Buddhi-Mati became very distressed. Guessing something had gone wrong, she set out to discover what had happened. This proved easy enough—as she crept along with her veil drawn close to avoid recognition, she overheard groups of people discussing the terrible fate that had befallen the favorite. She decided to wait until midnight when the streets would be deserted before approaching the tower.
In the dim starlight, she made out her beloved husband’s form leaning over the railing at the top of the tower.
“Is my dear lord still alive?” she whispered. “Is there anything I can do to help him?”
“You can do everything needed to help me,” Dhairya-Sila replied calmly, “if you follow my directions exactly. Do not think for a moment that I am in despair. I am more powerful even now than my master, who has only revealed his weakness by trying to harm me. Now listen carefully. Come tomorrow night at this same hour, bringing these items: first, a beetle; secondly, sixty yards of the finest silk thread, as thin as a spider’s web; thirdly, sixty yards of thin but strong cotton thread; fourthly, sixty yards of good stout twine; fifthly, sixty yards of rope strong enough to bear my weight; and lastly, one drop of the purest bees’ honey.”
Buddhi-Mati listened attentively to these strange instructions and began asking questions about them. “Why do you want the beetle? Why do you want the honey?” But her husband stopped her.
“I have no strength to waste on explanations,” he said. “Go home in peace, sleep well, and dream of me.”
The anxious wife went away obediently. Early the next day, she began gathering the required items. She struggled to find silk thread fine enough—it needed to be as thin as a spider’s web—but easily purchased the cotton, twine, and rope. Surprisingly, no one asked why she wanted these things.
Choosing the beetle took her longest. Though she vaguely understood that the silk, cotton, twine, and rope might help her husband descend from the tower, she couldn’t imagine what role the beetle and honey would play. Eventually, she selected a handsome, strong-looking, brightly colored beetle from her garden, one she knew enjoyed honey.
All day as Buddhi-Mati worked, she thought of her husband and looked forward to his return home. She had such faith in him that she never doubted he would escape, though she worried about the future, certain the Raja would never forgive Dhairya-Sila for being wiser than himself.
Exactly at the appointed time, the faithful wife appeared at the foot of the tower with everything she had been instructed to bring.
“Is all well with my lord?” she whispered, gazing upward through the darkness. “I have the silken thread as fine as gossamer, the cotton thread, the twine, the rope, the beetle, and the honey.”
“Yes,” answered Dhairya-Sila, “all is still well with me. I have slept well, confident that my dear one would bring everything needed for my safety. But I dread another day’s intense heat, so we must waste no time in escaping from this terrible tower. Now listen carefully to my instructions, and remember to speak quietly so the nearby sentries won’t hear and drive you away.”
“First, tie the end of the silken thread around the beetle’s middle, leaving its legs completely free. Then place the drop of honey on its nose and set the creature on the wall with its nose pointing upward toward me. It will smell the honey but won’t realize it’s carrying the scent itself, and will crawl upward hoping to find the hive from which the honey came. Hold the rest of the silk firmly and gradually unwind it as the beetle climbs. Be careful not to let it slip, for my very life depends on that slender connection with you.”
Despite her trembling hands and racing heart, Buddhi-Mati kept the silk from tangling. When it was nearly all unwound, she heard her husband say, “Now tie the cotton thread to the end of the silk you’re holding, and let it gradually unwind.” She obeyed, now fully understanding the purpose of these preparations.
When the tiny messenger of life reached the top of the tower, Dhairya-Sila gently took it in his hand and carefully unfastened the silken thread from its body. He placed the beetle safely in a fold of his turban and began pulling up the silken thread very slowly, knowing that if it broke, his ingenious plan would fail. Soon he had the cotton thread in his fingers. He broke off the silk, wound it up, and tucked it into his turban, unwilling to discard something that had served him so well.
“Half the work is done now,” he whispered to his faithful wife. “You have all but saved me. Now take the twine and tie it to the end of the cotton thread.”
Happily, Buddhi-Mati obeyed once more. Soon the cotton thread and twine were set aside, and the strong rope tied to the end was being quickly pulled up by the clever vizier, who knew that all danger of death from sunstroke or hunger was now past. When he had all the rope on the tower, he fastened one end to the iron railing surrounding the platform and quickly slid down to the bottom, where his trembling, joyful wife awaited him.
After embracing his wife and thanking her for saving him, the vizier said, “Before we return home, let us thank the great God who helped me by putting this escape plan into my mind.” The happy couple prostrated themselves on the ground and expressed their gratitude in fervent words. “And now,” said Dhairya-Sila, “we must return this dear little beetle, the instrument of my rescue, to its home.” Removing his turban, he showed his wife the tiny creature nestled in its soft folds.
Buddhi-Mati led her husband to the garden where she had found the beetle. Dhairya-Sila placed it gently on the ground, brought some of its favorite food, and left it to resume its normal life. The rest of the day he spent quietly at home with his wife, staying out of sight of the servants lest they report his return to the Raja.
“You must never tell anyone how I escaped,” Dhairya-Sila instructed, and his wife promised she never would.
All this time, the Raja was feeling very unhappy, believing he had caused the death of the one man he could trust. Too proud to admit he missed Dhairya-Sila, he secretly longed to summon him from the tower before it was too late. Imagine his relief and surprise when a message arrived that the vizier was at the palace door requesting an audience.
“Bring him in at once,” cried Surya Pratap. The next moment, Dhairya-Sila stood before his master, hands folded across his chest and head bowed in submission. The attendants looked on eagerly, wondering how he had escaped from the tower, some of them not at all pleased to see him back.
The Raja carefully concealed his delight at seeing the vizier. Pretending anger, he demanded, “How dare you come into my presence, and which of my subjects helped you escape the death you so richly deserved?”
“None of your subjects, great and just and glorious ruler,” replied Dhairya-Sila, “but the God who created us both, making you my master and me your humble servant. It was that God who saved me, knowing I was innocent of any crime against you. I had not been long on the tower when help came in the form of a great and noble eagle, which appeared above me with outspread wings as if about to tear me limb from limb. I trembled greatly, but needlessly—for instead of harming me, the bird lifted me in its talons and, flying rapidly through the air, deposited me on the balcony of my home before disappearing. Great was my wife’s joy at my rescue from what seemed certain death, but I tore myself from her embraces to come tell my lord how heaven intervened to prove my innocence.”
Fully believing a miracle had occurred, Surya Pratap asked no further questions. He immediately restored Dhairya-Sila to his former position as vizier, taking care never again to mistreat someone he now believed was under God’s special protection. Though he scarcely deserved it, the vizier prospered greatly for the rest of his life. As time passed, he became the kingdom’s true ruler, as the Raja depended on his advice for everything.
He grew increasingly wealthy, but was never truly happy again, haunted by the lie he had told the master to whom he owed so much. Buddhi-Mati could never understand why he invented the eagle story. She thought it far more remarkable that a tiny beetle had facilitated his rescue than that a powerful bird had done so, and she wanted everyone to know how clever her husband was. She kept her promise never to reveal what really happened, but somehow the secret eventually came out. By then, however, Dhairya-Sila was so powerful that no one could harm him, and when he died, his son succeeded him as vizier.
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*This ancient tale reminds us of the power of patience, ingenuity, and faithful partnership in overcoming seemingly impossible challenges. Through Dhairya-Sila and Buddhi-Mati’s story, we see how even the smallest creatures can play crucial roles in our lives when we approach problems with creativity and calm determination. The story also warns against the corrupting influence of power and the burden that even a single lie can place on our conscience, no matter how successful we appear to others.*
