Dhanraj - The Art of Giving

@ Illustrations by Dr.Ribhu Rajpal, Max Healthcare Patparganj

Once upon a time there was a great king Dhanraj. He was famous for his just ways, able administration and great leadership. He nurtured his subject with kindness, helped them in times of calamities, even among the neighboring kingdoms he was highly respected and honoured.  During times of hardships, he used to send relief to other kings unmindful of national boundaries, without expecting anything in return.

Vices he had none. He believed himself to be the biggest philanthropist of all times. Fortunately, more he gave away, more prosperous his kingdom became.  His wealth grew by leaps and bounds, and he gave away all of it, yet his wealth did not erode. Slowly but surely his ego could not take the praises he received from his beneficiaries, and he started measuring himself in larger than life terms. Soon he proclaimed himself as ‘Dhanraj the benevolent God’. When the news of his growing ego reached heaven,  God decided to correct the situation by teaching him a lesson.

One day, God disguised as a saint paid Dhanraj a visit.  Dhanraj received the saint at his palace gates and escorted him to his court. There preening himself, Dhanraj exclaimed, "Oh Great Saint, I am known as the most benevolent God on earth, I give everyone, anything that they ask for. Pray tell me, what is it that I could gift you". 

The saint smiled but remained silent.

“Oh Saint’, you seemed to be tired, first let us partake of a meal, perhaps, then you shall recover your strength, you can in the meanwhile decide what to take away from my kingdom”.  So saying Dhanraj ordered his staff to serve ‘The Saint’ a lavish lunch.

The royal cook immediately set about preparing a lavish spread for the Saint. Customarily the king himself, personally served food to sages who came visiting. This time also without eception, Dhanraj served exquisite dishes on a plantain leaf for the saint. ‘The Saint’ however, reached into his tattered bag, and pulled out a handful of roasted grams, ate them, drank from a water bag that he carried and issued a loud burp which could be heard right up to the palace gates.

This profanity angered Dhanraj, but he chose not to question the saint.  “’Oh great Saint’, it seems that you do not wish to have food from my kitchen, I wonder why. However if you happen to change your mind, please let me know, and my kitchen staff shall be at your service. You must now be very tired from your journey, my personal bedroom is the right place for you to spend the night, let me show you the way" said Dhanraj with pride. 

The saint smiled and accompanied the king to his bedroom, where the king offered him the royal bed, in which to spend the night. The royal bed stood on a pedestal, soft with satin, pearls and precious stones laid intricately on its frame.

The room was lighted by chandeliers, fountains of perfume casting an intoxicating aroma. The palace was built such that, the easterlies got channelized into the room through a complex maze of deflectors. None could imagine a more luxurious setting.

While Dhanraj was waiting for the saint to take his place on the royal bed, the saint smiled and silently pulled out a tattered sheet out of his motheaten bag, laid it on the ground, and went off to sleep.

By now Dhanraj was plainly irritated. Furious and deeply disappointed the way his offerings had been rejected. 

The next day the Saint prepared to leave, and Dhanraj, not yet wise from the events of the night again set to please the Saint.  He ordered his treasurer to lay out all the finest pieces of jewels and ornaments as offering to the saint.

“Oh Saint” Dhanraj the benevolent God, prays that you accept the gifts of a humble king, and provide me your blessings.

As soon as Dhanraj uttered these words, ‘The Saint’ started laughing out loud. He laughed and laughed and laughed, the court room stood astonished at the saint’s audacity. But the saint laughed on, he rocked on his heels laughing ....hahahahahahah . “Foolish king” he bellowed, “you are neither benevolent, nor are you God, what you give in the name of charity and gift is nothing compared to what other great kings across the desert, to the north of your kingdom give. What you give out in a life time they give out every minute of the day. If you travel alone through the desert for hundred days and hundred nights, you shall meet them and realise how less you give away”.

So saying the saint vanished into thin air.

Dharaj was now an upset man. He had come to believe that he was the greatest of all kings.  Now to even think that there were others as great was a shock indeed. Without wasting much time, he handed over the affairs of his kingdom to his trusted minister, and set out on a journey of hundred days and hundred nights.

The summer was at its worst that year when Dhanraj set out. As directed by the saint, he traveled alone. As he crossed the borders of his kingdom, the lush greenery gave way to a harsher terrain and became hotter and hotter as he progressed towards the waste lands.

He had traveled now for ten days and ten nights, his feet became heavier, as they dug deeper into the slippery sand, the heat became torturous, he could not bear the weight of his armour anymore, each step became a struggle, and in that struggle, he decided to take off his heavy crown and his armour.  No sooner he did so, a voice rang out from the sky “‘O King’ the first barrier towards your redemption was your crown, now that you have given away your crown you have created a path towards greatness, keep up the journey of a hundred days and hundred nights and you shall meet the kings who are greater than you” said the voice from heaven.

On he went, for a few weeks more, now his shoes were worn out, the water in his water bag already empty, the last watering hole he had encountered was around a week back, the little water he carried from there, now empty. Lips parched and legs blistered, he kept on, now in delirium. Suddenly in the horizon he could make out a hunched figure limping towards him, a man older than any that he had seen so far, zillions of lines crisscrossing his face, which seemed to be a hundred years of age, but an unusual energy gave him a halo, a brightness to his face more powerful than the glare of the sun in that blazing desert.  As the old man drew closer he did not seem to notice Dhanraj, was about to walk past Dhanraj. The first human he had set his eye on in almost a month of travel, Dhanraj, called out to the old man, “Hey you”. Hearing the voice, the old man turned towards Dhanraj. “Sir, good that you called out to me, because I am blind and I would surely have missed you, pray what can I do for you”, exclaimed the Old man.

“’Old Man’, I am on a journey of hundred days and hundred nights, I have been walking for twenty five days and twenty five nights, I look for kings greater than me, but I have run out of water, I am power less in this vast desert, so I beg of you to give me the bag, in which you carry water, said the king.  .  No sooner had he uttered these words, a voice spoke from heaven, “O King, by begging for water from that old blind man, frailer and needier than thou, you have finally overcome your ego. Greatness, comes by not carrying one’s ego along.  ‘O King’, this is another major victory, but you have a long journey yet, so keep walking”.

The old man seemed to be oblivious to the voice from heaven, “Oh great king”, said the old man,  I may be helpless and blind, but the bag I carry provides unending supply of water to those lost in the desert, my job is to look for such people and save their souls, so ‘O king’, partake of as much water as you can,  but don’t ask for the bag, said the Old Man, so saying the Old Man, emptied the contents of his water bag, into Dhanraj’s  open palms.

Now quenched of his thirst, Dhanraj set out on his journey again. 

It had been fifty days since he set out, and the seasons had changed, the sun cast its long shadow and soon it became dark. Nights in the deserts are very cold. Fatigue and hunger gnawed at Dhanraj, now shorn of his clothes and ornaments was a shadow of his royal self. Shivering in the freezing cold, the night seemed to stretch like a snake crawling out to devour Dhanraj. The shivering continued unabated, his learning’s from the long years of training in warfare, seemed to be useless in this long journey.  He looked in every direction, wanted to dig in deep inside the sand dunes, but they too seem to be cast in ice, till suddenly he noticed a fire burning in the distance. As he neared, he noticed a middle aged lady frozen in the darkness staring at the fire. As he stumbled into her vision, she realised how cold Dhanraj was and quickly ran up to him and gave him her shawl to cover himself up, took his hand and escorted him towards the fire,  the fire burned in all its fury,  and the lady made Dhanraj comfortable in its warmth.

When the heat from the fire seeped into his flesh, and he the fury of blood gushing through his veins resumed, he noticed that all was not well with the lady who seemed lost in trance,  a closer look revealed  a trail of tears down her cheeks. Hey woman! Why do you cry? Asked Dhanraj, 

“Sir, replied the woman, the fire that you see, is a pyre, in which my lone teenaged son burns, he perished in the King’s war, I am happy that he laid down his life for our benevolent king.  We learn from our king that giving away is a way of life.  My son has made me proud, even in his death, his funeral pyre gives you the warmth and made you live to see another day”, said the women.

One has to be really unfortunate to borrow warmth from a funeral pyre, but fate decides who gets what in this roulette. With a deep sense of pain, the king stood up to continue his journey; this was the second time in his journey he has been shown the path to selfless sharing. Charity done with millions in the vaults, indeed is virtuous, but comes easily to people, but the intent to give away, when there is nothing in hand is touching upon greatness and needs courage and conviction unmatched.

The journey was only half done. Two episodes, and Dhanraj, now really wanted to understand the true meaning of giving. This motivated him to get up and walk again.

Day seventieth of his journey he met a young man. “Where are you going young man” exclaimed Dhanraj. 

“Sir, replied the young man, across the oceans I go, to learn the art of teaching”.

 “Pray why”!  Asked Dhanraj

“So that I can remove ignorance from this kingdom” replied the young man.

“How will that help”? Enquired Dhanraj.

“Oh sir, have you heard of our foolish king Dhanraj”?  Asked the young man.

“Foolish?  But I have heard that he is a benevolent king”!  Exclaimed Dhanraj.

“No Sir”, replied the young man, “there is no man more foolish than our king”, replied the young man. “He believes giving away wealth creates wealth. But I believe teaching how to create and sustain wealth, is the true answer to prosperity. Our King believes in doles that keep his subject happy, not realising that they have got used to this life of well being and care, the day the King runs into troubled times, his subjects shall suffer along with him. That fateful day even the friendly neighbours that he has nurtured shall turn upon him” he continued.

“I shall learn and the share knowledge with my fellow men. Knowledge, is true wealth, not gold coins and precious stones”, declared the young man. “I shall empower my countrymen, not enslave them to others charity”, he added.

What better learning could Dhanraj get than these words of free wisdom? Unknowingly the young man had hit the nail where it hurt most and unsolicited knowledge worth a billion gold coins in an instant.

On went Dhanraj, until on the eightieth day he met a man who was carrying a basket of fruits. Hunger and fatigue gnawing him, Dhanraj approached the man for a few of those.

“Of course dear sir, these fruits come from the hard work of many in my village. From the bees who pollinated the flowers, to the rain which nourished them, to the men who toiled in the orchards to the women who picked them up with care, the benefit of these fruits belong to each one of them,  who am I then, to claim ownership on these, these are for the world to savor, I am but a means through which nature gives await its bounty, unlike my King Dhanraj, I dont lay my claim to greatness, by giving away that which is not mine!  Exclaimed the man.

If Dhanraj though that his educational sojourn was over, he was mistaken, there was more to come for there were twenty more days to go. So in their search he set out again, in search of the elusive kings who gave away more than he did.

The last twenty days of the journey went by in a daze, he kept counting the days remaining, looking for those elusive kings. The final day arrived, and he was sure that his journey would not go waste, he was sanguine that soon in a city nearby he would come across the palace. He was charged up in anticipation that come morning he would have completed the journey, already wiser from the lessons from the lessons he had learnt so far. In that excitement, he was on a day dream, when he fell asleep.  The desert had now given way to thick forests. He was woken up by the wild screams of a tribe of cannibals, prodding him with their spears.  They had stumbled upon him during their hunt, and were only too eager to scalp him. It was a full moon day and it was customary to sacrifice a warrior to the moon god. They dragged Dhanraj brutally through the bushes, and reaching their hutment, they tied him up to a pole in preparation for the sacrifice.

A few feet away stood another familiar figure also tied up to a mast. Dhanraj strained his eyes, and recognised Budhan a lieutenant from his personal guards.  Seeing Dhanraj in that condition, Bhudan was shocked.  “My lord, we are tied up to this post to be sacrificed at mid night” whispered Budhan, they have to choose between the two of us, Let me die, I leave behind my seven sisters and my blind parents, yet there shall be a meaning to my death if I manage to save you, for if you were to be killed, there will be a thousand Bhudan and their families who will perish, exclaimed Bhudan.

“I have a plan”, he whispered. The Cannibals sacrifice only person without a blemish, Oh King, pardon me, for I plan to hurt you a little. So saying Bhudan tugged with all his might, at the pole to which he was tied. Dhanraj, was wondering what Bhudan was up to. Bhudan heaved again with all his might, he roared and grunted, and finally the pole started shaking on its foundation. Before Dhanraj could guess as to what was happening, the pole was swinging dangerously with the might with which Bhudan pulled at it.  That was the last thing Dhanraj remembered, as the ten foot stake fell on his head.

When he came to, it was too late. He had a searing headache, and he could sense dried up blood, making his forehead taut. The stake must have fallen on him, he realised and  he would have been out for hours, for the morning sun was shining brightly and the birds chirping. He lifted up his head to look around, and could see blood all around.  As he shifted his vision, he saw the gory scene of young men in their teen pulling at dismembered human foot; one youngster was sucking at a bleeding hand. Dhanraj suddenly realised that the arm belonged to Bhudan. That was when reality dawned on him. Bhudan had made the stake fall on the King, thereby injuring him, so that the tribal’s would not sacrifice an injured human being. Bhudan had made the ultimate sacrifice for his king. Selfless in his concerned for thousands across the country, Bhudan had chosen to be scarified, thereby saving his King.

A moan escaped Dhanraj’s lips. He was now living a life owed to Bhudan. That instant, he realised that living on charity is by no means a pleasant experience.  He did not have an option; neither did those millions who live out of charity. One accepts what is given for free, but free does not remain the soul which owes to someone. It would be true to say that at that moment Dhanraj’s  ego dissolved as he burst out sobbing, waves of grief hit him one after the other, as he recounted his journey from being a kind considerate king, to a one consumed by ego, vanity.

As he lay there sobbing, a voice rang out. “Raise O benevolent God” said the familiar voice. As he looked up, he found ‘The saint’, who had sent him on the journey. The saint seemed to have acquired radiance, and a halo around his head. ”Raise my son; I am none other than God.  I sent you on this journey of many miles. You have completed your hundred day journey, and have come out of it baptised by fire.  What you went through was journey to show you the true essence of life, the essence ‘giving’. Of being a true leader, and caretaker, a patron, a King in a true sense of the word. I think you have learnt your lessons and shall strive in future to earn your redemption”, said God.

God! There are many a lessons that I learnt these hundred days, but where are the many Kings that you promised, I shall meet across the journey? Asked Dhanraj, I still need to meet them, to understand as to be a better king and patron

God Smiled, did you not remember meeting many kings on your journey! Asked God.

“Don’t you remember the blind old man who gave you water to drink when you needed it the most?  He has been roaming the desert, offering water to lost souls, because his son died of thirst, while crossing the desert”.

“Don’t you remember the young mother, who provided you warmth on her son’s pyre? He was her only son, who perished protecting your kingdom. She did not know that you were her King, when she offered you the warmth from her son’s pyre”.

Don’t you remember the young teacher who wanted to give free knowledge to all? His intent was not to earn a living, but to enlighten others to help themselves instead of living in charity.

Don’t you remember the man, with the basket of fruits? Who taught you that the fruits of labour are sweeter than charity?

Don’t your remember Bhudan? He gave up his life, to save you from death, so that you could live and look after the millions whose hopes rest on you. So what if in the process, he has left behind a family which is now orphaned.

Yes those were the kings I set you up to meet. They know how to give, they give what they could without expecting anything in return, and they give because they felt it was their duty to give.  

The old man taught you to selflessly serve others even during times of extreme hardship and disability.

The Young mother taught you how to sacrifice everything one has, and yet smilingly acknowledge the universe and pay back to the best of one’s might.  Even if that means providing warmth by burning ones dearest possession.

And Bhudan taught you to make the ultimate sacrifice. He had a family to protect, but considering the nation as a family, he saved you so that his country men are not at loss.

With a brimming cup, it’s easy to give, all wealthy men give with great pride, yes indeed they are good souls, but great are those who give all that they have, give something out of the last bit they have, borrow to give to others more in need, or give to others when their own needs are more pressing. Those are the times when charity gets transformed into worship, and gods smile down on their children from heaven.

So king rise, go back to your kingdom, you were a kind man, you shall be again restored to your former glory, with the learning’s that you have got on this journey. So saying God was about to walk away, when Dhanraj called out O God, can I have one wish from you...... he had hardly completed the sentence, that God smiled.  “I know what you are going to ask of me. You want me to bring back Budan to life. 


“He is already back home, and the memory of this episode, has now been erased from his memory.

  

So saying God disappeared.







Special Thanks to
Illustration by Dr.Ribhu Rajpal Max Healthcare Patparganj.