Nisha B. Thakur's Blog, page 9

Indian Moral Fairy Tale | The Kind Apsara

Image Source: Pinterest
Once upon a time, there lived a poor beggar. He had no one- no family, no friends. Alone he used to walk miles and reach new villages he could. He seldom stayed there for a week. Collect alms to survive. He disliked begging but he had no choice. He was malnourished and was a misfit for any kind of physical work. 

To collect alms without any work was a thing he hated to his core. Thus, he decided to sing and get alms. Whenever he sang pedestrians seldom stop and laugh at him. After a week he embarked to another village. This was the way his life was going on. 
Once he reached a temple on the outskirts of the village. He hadn’t managed to get decent food fora week. He drank water from the nearby river and sat on the temple premises.
He looked outside at the sunset and realized the temple was located in a very beautiful spot. He shut his eyes and started taking Lord’s name. He started singing hymns, very passionately, engrossed.

Apsara Urvashi regularly visited this temple. The beggar was so engrossed in his singing that he didn’t notice Apsara’s arrival. Apsara offered prayers in the shrine. Beggar’s singing was so enchanting that it created a rush of spirituality and divinity within her. Finding solace in his singing, she came to main premises to see the singer. She spotted the beggar and stood beside him.
After beggar’s hymns got over, he opened his eyes. Surprised to see an Apsara standing in front of him. He couldn’t speak a word. He was so fascinated by her beauty.
Apsara offered him a gold coin, but he refused, ‘All day I beg for food, but I don’t want to a beggar in a sacredplace like this temple.’

Impressed by his humility she asked him to sing for her. They walked to the riverside. Beggar started singing and she danced. She gave the beggara gold coin as a token of appreciation. Beggar accepted it and bought a small house in the village. Every full moon night beggar came to visit Apsara, sing for her and receive a gold coin. 
Soon beggar could afford a good life. Beggar gave himself a name- Bhima. He made friends in the village. He married a merchant’s daughter. He started enjoying life and continued meeting Apsara. No one knew his source of income. All villagers could see that he is becoming richer and richer. Bhima’s wife never asked him about his source of income. She trusted him completely. Soon he was blessed with a son. He named him Surya. 
After 20 years, living a good life, Bhima was lying on deathbed. Fearing how to maintain family’s lavish lifestyle he confided in his son. Bhima told Surya about Apsara. He asked Surya to meet him on a full moon night. Bhima was unwell from past six months and hadn’t met Apsara since then. After offering payers Apsara use to wait for him in the riverside and leave disappointed. Surya reached the riversideand was so enthralled seeing Apsara that he could speak a word. Numbed by her presence, he could only regain his senses when she was gone. After reaching home he told his father about the happening. Bhima asked him to go early next full moon night. Next full moon night Surya reached on time. Apsara arrived and she asked, ‘Who are you?’
‘I am Bhima’s son. Father is not well. I am here...’
Even before he could finish, Apsara interrupted him.
‘Oh, so you are here collect gold coin from me,’ said Apsara.
‘No, I am here to present you something,’ said Surya giving her a big piece of cloth.
She opened it and saw her beautiful painting.
‘I was here last full moon night, I saw you but I couldn’t meet you,’ said Surya sheepishly.
‘It is so beautiful,’ said Apsara and gave him a gold coin.
She asked him to get her painting every full moon night. Surya accepted the deal.
Surya too started enjoying his life and continued meeting Apsara. No one knew his source of income too. All villagers could see that he too was becoming richer and richer like his father.
Moral of the short story: Believe in your talents, nurture it well. God has his mysterious way to reward you.

Happy Reading!

About the writer: Nisha is the author of two highly appreciated novels- First You Plz & The Blue Jinx.

Indian Moral Fairy Tales | The Kind Apsara

Image Source: Pinterest
Once upon a time, there lived a poor beggar. He had no one- no family, no friends. Alone he used to walk miles and reach new villages he could. He seldom stayed there for a week. Collect alms to survive. He disliked begging but he had no choice. He was malnourished and was a misfit for any kind of physical work. 

To collect alms without any work was a thing he hated to his core. Thus, he decided to sing and get alms. Whenever he sang pedestrians seldom stop and laugh at him. After a week he embarked to another village. This was the way his life was going on. 
Once he reached a temple on the outskirts of the village. He hadn’t managed to get decent food fora week. He drank water from the nearby river and sat on the temple premises.
He looked outside at the sunset and realized the temple was located in a very beautiful spot. He shut his eyes and started taking Lord’s name. He started singing hymns, very passionately, engrossed.

Apsara Urvashi regularly visited this temple. The beggar was so engrossed in his singing that he didn’t notice Apsara’s arrival. Apsara offered prayers in the shrine. Beggar’s singing was so enchanting that it created a rush of spirituality and divinity within her. Finding solace in his singing, she came to main premises to see the singer. She spotted the beggar and stood beside him.
After beggar’s hymns got over, he opened his eyes. Surprised to see an Apsara standing in front of him. He couldn’t speak a word. He was so fascinated by her beauty.
Apsara offered him a gold coin, but he refused, ‘All day I beg for food, but I don’t want to a beggar in a sacredplace like this temple.’

Impressed by his humility she asked him to sing for her. They walked to the riverside. Beggar started singing and she danced. She gave the beggara gold coin as a token of appreciation. Beggar accepted it and bought a small house in the village. Every full moon night beggar came to visit Apsara, sing for her and receive a gold coin. 
Soon beggar could afford a good life. Beggar gave himself a name- Bhima. He made friends in the village. He married a merchant’s daughter. He started enjoying life and continued meeting Apsara. No one knew his source of income. All villagers could see that he is becoming richer and richer. Bhima’s wife never asked him about his source of income. She trusted him completely. Soon he was blessed with a son. He named him Surya. 
After 20 years, living a good life, Bhima was lying on deathbed. Fearing how to maintain family’s lavish lifestyle he confided in his son. Bhima told Surya about Apsara. He asked Surya to meet him on a full moon night. Bhima was unwell from past six months and hadn’t met Apsara since then. After offering payers Apsara use to wait for him in the riverside and leave disappointed. Surya reached the riversideand was so enthralled seeing Apsara that he could speak a word. Numbed by her presence, he could only regain his senses when she was gone. After reaching home he told his father about the happening. Bhima asked him to go early next full moon night. Next full moon night Surya reached on time. Apsara arrived and she asked, ‘Who are you?’
‘I am Bhima’s son. Father is not well. I am here...’
Even before he could finish, Apsara interrupted him.
‘Oh, so you are here collect gold coin from me,’ said Apsara.
‘No, I am here to present you something,’ said Surya giving her a big piece of cloth.
She opened it and saw her beautiful painting.
‘I was here last full moon night, I saw you but I couldn’t meet you,’ said Surya sheepishly.
‘It is so beautiful,’ said Apsara and gave him a gold coin.
She asked him to get her painting every full moon night. Surya accepted the deal.
Surya too started enjoying his life and continued meeting Apsara. No one knew his source of income too. All villagers could see that he too was becoming richer and richer like his father.
Moral of the short story: Believe in your talents, nurture it well. God has his mysterious way to reward you.

Happy Reading!

About the writer: Nisha is the author of two highly appreciated 

novels- First You Plz & The Blue Jinx.

Psychological Thriller Short Story | She is Wow!

An ordinary day became the best day of his life when he saw her for the first time. He wondered what was attracting him to a not-so-attractive girl. Perhaps her girl-next-door demeanor. He followed her, walking, matching her footsteps on the curvy roads of Parsik Hills near Navi Mumbai. He deliberately maintained a distance to pass easily as a stroller or an ardent nature admirer. Clicking photos using camera phone. Intermittently posing like he is enjoying the scenic beauty around him, just to come across as natural as possible.
She was too busy to notice- her newly found stalker. Or she was used to stalkers. Soon curvy roads found its way to the top of the hill. She looked around to make sure no one was there. He concealed himself behind trees. It was hot summer day in April. It was unusual for anyone to climb up the hill. She removed a blood-stained knife from her tote jute bag. Savoring the knife with her eyes she smiled. Suddenly the clam smile turned into a hysterical laughter. He removed his mobile and started recording it. She was about to throw the knife deep into the valley.  Suddenly she stooped.  Realizing she hasn’t wiped fingerprints off the knife. She calmed herself and removed a napkin from her bag and cleaned the knife. She threw knife away deep into the valley and stood their patiently.
A car arrived to pick her up and drove her away. He ran down the hill and reached the police station. He ran inside premises and reached a desk. He hurriedly switched ON the computer. He browsed the criminal database and found the girl. He was right about this girl, he thought. If he catches the girl, promotion would easily descent on his lap. He grinned ear to ear.
Her appearance on the file photo was bit different. She sported a short length hair and had crocked teeth. Although when he saw her today, she had long hair and straight teeth. But appearance can be easily managed. He thought. She was filed in the category of- serial killers. He quickly called a hawaldar.
‘Note this car number and collect every detail of this car owner,’ he said. Hawaldar took the orders and left. Determined to coach her at any cost. He started planning his steps ahead. He knew a chance to catch a rare criminal like her come very rarely. After thirty minutes Hawaldar appeared again and gave him file. He pounced on the report file like an animal seizing on its prey. With each detail he was reading, he realized that he could easily catch her this time. He smiled.
He was a senior inspector of Crime Branch Mumbai.
Moral of the Story- A stalker can also be an inspector.

Happy Reading!
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Short Thriller Story | The Blue Jinx

This supernatural episode began in Mumbai. I had been living here with my mom, dad, younger sister and younger brother since my childhood. My entire family unloved me, excluding my mother. I hated them too, excluding my mother. It was not exactly hatred. It was dissatisfaction! The reason of their dissatisfaction was my profession. My reason of dissatisfaction was their attitude towards my profession.
They disliked me for being an interior consultant. They could not accept that their merit holder son chose to be an interior consultant. They felt I could easily be a doctor or an engineer. They could not digest my career choice. But I wanted to be, what I settle on. So, after finishing my studies I started working as an interior consultant with a realty company. I worked there for 6 years. My profession paid me less. Soon, my younger sister started earning more than me. My family’s loathing grew with it. But I was happy in my life. I knew being in a creative profession was different from a regular job. You got to struggle till you create goodwill. While I was struggling to create a name, my brother bought himself a house and a car. This made my father very happy. Unlike a normal parent’s behavior, he was not happy for my younger brother. But he was happy for the earned opportunity to taunt me. He taunted me for being a failure. But I ignored him. His disgust increased when he started searching a girl for my marriage. Even girls he intended to bring home as his daughter in law were earning more than me. This made my father hate me more than ever. He criticized me at every juncture. It became difficult for me to live with my family. However, in my salary I knew I wouldn’t be able to afford a rented flat in Mumbai. So, I continued living with them. But I had to do something to prove my profession’s worth.
I decided to quit my job and start my interior consultancy business.  I borrowed money from my mother. She gave me money without telling my father. With my mother’s blessings and support, I started my business. I bought a rented office and got a few employees on board. I hired inexperienced people so that I can pay them less. But getting a client on board was not an easy task. Mother’s money was finished paying rent, paying employees and miscellaneous stuff. Finally, after six months of misfortune, I managed to get my first client.

My first client was Mr. Sharma, a banker. He was a chaste miser. He offered me barter: If I agree to revamp his house for free and he would get me rich clients. I had to agree. I had no choice. Offending a rich client was certainly not working in my favor. To my surprise Mr. Sharma turned out to be a man of his words. Or maybe it was my good luck. Soon after revamp he hosted a party at his house and introduced me to each and every guest (my potential, would-be clients). I managed to get just one client and made a little money; not enough to pay bills and salary. I upgraded my website which exaggerated my works.
I felt my career too needed a revamp like my client’s nest. I needed a big break in my career. I needed a launch stage. Soon, I was bestowed with one opportunity via my beloved Mr. Sharma. This opportunity became the first priority of my life because of many reasons. This opportunity provided me with the desired launch stage. It involved working with a big name. It was a high paying project. It was perfect, as I needed money to maintain my consultancy business. I needed money to give it back to my mother before the borrowed money story reached my father’s knowledge. And the most important reason: I intended to make it an evidence of my profession’s value.
With my eyes set on my goal to deliver my best. I simultaneously numbered my priorities as I was driving my rented car. Things which I wanted to do first and subsequently, after successful completion of my launch stage project. I also imagined myself as a successful interior consultant, that I made lots of money, that I got a bigger house than my brother; my family (especially my father) accepted their defeat. I smiled merrily thinking about my luxurious future as I turned my car (rented car) inside the lane. I saw my two friends waiting for me outside the night club. I parked my rented car and enthusiastically ran to meet them. I hugged them, Mohit and Sahil. Today we met after a long time.
“How are you, Nikhil?” Sahil asked me.
“I am good,” I answered.
“It is so obvious you must be good. After all, you got such a nice project. Soon you will be one among India’s top Interior consultants,” said Mohit.
“I hope so,” I replied.
It was an occasion to celebrate. Sahil and Mohit were in a mood to party. We entered the night club in bursting mood. It was the weekend so the nightclub was jam-packed. We managed to get a side table. Mohit looked around for the girls. The girl in short green dress smiled at me. I looked at her and smiled. I hurriedly shifted my eyes to menu card kept on the table before my smiling act reached anybody’s knowledge. But I failed to save this brief smiling act from Mohit’s eyes.
“Let’s dance Nikhil. That green skirt girl seems to be interested in you. We will dance around her group,” said Mohit.
“Not now. Let’s eat something. I am hungry,” I answered, scanning the menu card in my hand.
“Come on Nikhil. Nightclubs are not meant for eating.  They are meant for alcohol,” said Sahil disagreeing.
Mohit too was in Sahil’s favor.
“But you guys know I don’t drink alcohol.”
“At least today you can drink for us. As this celebration is for your achievement,” said Mohit.
“That I understand, but you know, I don’t drink and I don’t smoke,” I replied.
Sahil came to my rescue and said, “We both know Nikhil since school days. Have you ever seen him consuming alcohol?” “No, never,” replied Mohit.
“Then let’s not waste time in forcing him. Let’s have a beer. What say?” asked Sahil.
“You guys drink instead of me,” I said. Mohit and Sahil laughed and our revelry truly started. We danced. We laughed. We chatted and then we moved out the nightclub to the beach. It was a full moon night. The moon looked beautiful at the backdrop of the beach. Mohit and Sahil shared a bottle of beer and I drank bottled orange juice. We talked about general things.

“The green dress girl we met was very friendly and sensible too,” I said.
“Don’t tell me you were analyzing her character. I was reading through her profile,” said amused Mohit.
“Yes, I agree she was good looking,” said Sahil.
“I too agree and she was a decent girl,” I said.
“Nikhil she was trying to impress you and you too looked impressed, why don’t you propose to her?” asked Sahil.After drinking so many bottles of beer Sahil was still in his consciousness. But Mohit was high.
“No, she is mine!” said drunken Mohit.
To calm him down I said, “Yes, she is yours.”
“Yes buddy,” shouted Mohit and fell unconscious on the beach as he fumbled his last few words.
Sahil laughed and said, “Mohit is inebriated. Anyways, Nikhil so when are you getting married?”
“You guys are too much! I am just 30 years old. At least for the next two years I don’t want a girlfriend. I don’t want wife either. I want to work. My new project is the most important goal of my life. Once I finish this one, then I will have lots of money and other assignments. I want to work very hard on this project.”
“Great. This sounds good for three of us. You work hard, earn good money and give us parties like this,” said Sahil.
I agreed.
Then alcohol caught Sahil too, and he went into a philosophical frame of mind.
“But one doesn’t plan love. It just happens. You know love comes unannounced,” he said.
“This won’t happen to me as there is no space for love in my life at the moment,” I said looking at the full moon. There was no response from Sahil for a while. That was quite awkward. So, I turned back to see him. He too had fallen unconscious on the beach. I laughed and clicked their photographs as reminiscence.
********I was waiting for Mr. Hemant Saxena in his office cabin. Hemant Saxena, a reputed name in Hotel and Construction industry. Hemant and Mr. Sharma were good friends. Hemant appreciated Mr. Sharma’s house interior. On the reference of Mr. Sharma, I was hired as an interior consultant for a few of Hemant’s projects. Today I was meeting him for the third time. He was going to give me details of my first project under his company. I was very excited. After a few minutes he entered his cabin.
“Sorry you had to wait. I was in a meeting,” said Hemant.Hemant was a 65-year-old self-made businessman. Considering his dressing style and mannerism any he could easily be mistaken as a retired army officer.
“It is okay, Sir,” I replied.
“I want to give details of your first project and I hope you give your best,” he said.
“Yes, I won’t let you down.”
“I trust you. But this project is different,” he said.
I was expecting this line. Every client of mine considered his project different. But for me they all were same. But I was wrong and this project was actually very different. I realized this much later. I was not aware of what was coming to me then. Then Hemant asked me a question which was completely off-track of our discussion.
“What do you know about me?”
“Sir, you are one of the top entrepreneurs of India,” I replied simultaneously thinking about the relevance of the question. Further straining my memory and copying the same words from his website, I continued, “You are a self-made man and you struggled a lot to build this empire.”
Hemant didn’t look impressed and he dismissed my answer, “Everyone knows this fact about me. Now, I am going to tell you few things no one knows. No newspaper will ever tell you these things about me.”
I wondered what his biography had got to do with this project.“And all these things very well relate to your project,” said Hemant as if he just read my thought.
I felt an ease on hearing this, “Yes, sure.”
He said that he belonged to a very poor family. His parents died when he was very young. He completed education on his own. After education he got first job in Nasik where he met his wife Shanipriya. They liked each other, they became friends and then they got married. They bought a small house in Nasik. He started his business which was well received. They shifted to Mumbai. Occasionally they used to visit their Nasik house. Two years back his wife died. His wife loved that house. Now he wanted to redecorate that house. He gave me the responsibility. This was my first project with him.
“Do you plan to live there?” I asked.
“This year-end I shall retire from my business. I want to spend the rest of my life in that house.”
“I think we should renovate that house according to your wife’s like and dislikes,” I suggested him.
“Good.”
“Colors, patterns, furniture, interior should be as per her taste. Her presence should be felt in every corner of the house.”
“Yeah, that’s what I wanted,” he beamed, “but I didn’t know how to describe it, name it.”
“Something we call a memory house.”
“Yes,” said Hemant and his happiness knew no limits. He looked relieved. In his happiness I would see my happiness: money, fame and victory.
I wanted to check the property. Hemant invited me to live in the Nasik house till I am satisfied with my designs. We decided to go to Nasik the following day.
I was happy and relieved to work in the direction of my goal.
********The next day we started our road travel to Nasik in Hemant’s car. He was working on his laptop. I had to pretend reading a book on interior designing. Typically, I hated reading during travel. But with a reputed client like Hemant, you got to elevate your standards. A day before travel, I had deliberately selected a book which had lots of photos and less of text.
“When you see Singh’s Dhaba then please stop the car,” said Hemant to his driver.
Driver replied to him very respectfully. After a while he stopped the car and said, “Sir, we reached Singh’s Dhaba.”
“Come Nikhil let’s eat,” said Hemant.
I was not in a favor of eating from a Dhaba. Considering hygienic factors, I suggested him that we should eat in restaurant. But he refused to listen and I had to concur.
The eatery owner Mr. Singh welcomed Hemant affectionately. They met like long lost brothers. Mr. Singh was a muscular, classic Punjabi man. He hugged Hemant tightly.
“How is everyone in your family?” Mr. Singh asked Hemant.
“All are doing well. How are you doing?”
“As usual, I am good.”
Punjabis are full of life and so was Mr. Singh. Mr. Singh’s gaze fell on me. Before he inquired, Hemant answered for me.“This is Nikhil. He works with me,” said Hemant turning to me, “Nikhil. This is Mr. Singh.”
We exchanged pleasantries. We occupied a table.
“Get us Chicken biryani, chicken tandoori, chicken tikka masala. What’s special dish in today’s menu?” asked Hemant.“Chicken sahi masala,” replied Mr. Singh.
“Okay. Get us two plates of each,” said Hemant eagerly.“Who is going to eat so much? Is Mr. Singh joining us too?” I asked.
Hemant laughed and said that this food is only for two of us.“Sir, I won’t be able to eat,” I said.
“Why are you a vegetarian?”
“No, Sir. I have a habit of eating in portions.”
“Once you eat food here. You will forget about eating in portions. You will come here again and again,” said Mr. Singh in full confidence. Hemant too agreed with his words.
“What would you like for drinks?” asked Mr. Singh.
“For me get my regular,” said Hemant. Mr. Singh smiled at him in accord.
“What would you like for drinks?” Hemant asked me.
“I don’t drink.”
Hemant asked me with surprise, “What you don’t drink?”
I repeated my answer that I don’t drink alcohol.
Hemant clarified that they were not talking about alcohol. They were talking about lassi. Hemant and Mr. Singh laughed loudly. They looked quite amused with the conversation. I too had to look amused, so I grinned and joined them. But frankly, I was annoyed. “Get us our order,” said Hemant. “And get me my regular drink and buttermilk for Nikhil.”
“And please get food in clean plates,” I said cleaning glass with a tissue paper.
Hemant and Mr. Singh giggled at full volume.
********Post lunch we commenced our road trip. I thanked God for it. Hemant and Mr. Singh’s so-called funny stories were not at all hilarious. In fact, they were a torture. I was extremely glad when we left. I learnt from the driver that the journey ahead was only for a few hours. The panorama outside was breathtaking: green mountains, long empty roads, reddish sky. It was picture perfect. The landscape and the quite climate outside strained out my saintly side. Suddenly I felt very spiritual.
Then we reached at the end part of the road journey. Hemant’s house was only twenty minutes away. But the way was very creepy. It was very dark. Only area around the car’s light was visible. I was not able to see the path beyond the car’s lights. There was forest around. I heard loud sounds of trees swinging along with harsh winds. That made a very frightening sound. The silence of the night and its typical noise further added to my fear. Abruptly a black cat crossed our path. I saw a dead body being taken for funeral. I saw a funeral ground.  I prayed to God that we soon reach Hemant’s house. Hemant looked quite comfortable. Obviously, he was habitual of these spine-chilling surroundings.
We finally reached his bungalow and our journey ended. It was small, very quiet and attractive bungalow.
“Sir your bungalow is quite attractive,” I said, looking at the bungalow.
“Bungalow? This is not my bungalow. This is my home. Bungalows, I have in Mumbai and other cities,” said Hemant. I understood how deeply associated he was, with this house. I felt I smacked a jackpot. I felt if I gave my best to this project, which I clearly would. Then all my problems would be automatically solved.
********We entered the bungalow. Hemant’s personal secretary Murli Sharma and house help Ramu were there in the living room. “Good evening Sir,” said Murli and then he looked at me and said, “Welcome Nikhil.”
I too greeted him. Hemant asked Murli if he had arranged for my stay. Murli replied positively. Ramu touched Hemant’s feet. Ramu seemed to be a dutiful servant. He was full of respect for his master. He was a short, fat man. He seemed to be in his forties, I assumed. Hemant asked Ramu to take me to my room. Hemant said he would see me at dinner time. He said post dinner; he would give me the house’s tour. He left the room and Murli followed him. “Let me take you to your room,” said Ramu.
I followed him. We entered a room at the far end of the gallery. The room was quite big. It had a big sized bed. It had a sofa in one corner of the room. It had attached bathroom. It had a study table. It had a small balcony. I liked the room instantly. “Would you like tea before dinner?” asked Ramu. I badly needed one and happily agreed.
Ramu left and I threw my bag on the floor and jumped on the bed. I was much tried. I wanted to sleep badly.Ramu’s tea and good shower took away my day’s tiredness. After some time, I met Hemant and Murli at the dining table. Ramu was serving soup.
“We have seven rooms here,” said Hemant as he sipped a spoon of soup, “post dinner I will show you around.”
“Yes, sure,” I replied, “interiors would touch your heart and you will feel her presence around.”
As I completed my statement, the bowl of curry slipped from Ramu’s hand and he started trembling. Hemant looked at him angrily and he left without finishing his food. Murli followed him. I found this incident very awkward. Murli came back.“Sir is calling you in the library,” he said.
I went to the library. Hemant was flipping pages of a photo album. He asked me to sit.
“These are old photos of my wife Shanipriya. The blue color was her favorite. She liked staying in this house as she appreciated peace and quiet surroundings.”
I saw her photograph. She was very beautiful. The blue color was indeed her favorite. I noticed in most of her photographs she had put on blue colored cloths. As promised, then Hemant took me for a house tour. He spoke about Shanipriya’s interest. I saw a romantic twinkle in his eyes when he spoke about her. Hemant truly loved his wife. After seeing the entire house, we entered my room. I mean the room in which I was staying.
“This room was our lounge because of the view from balcony. It is simply beautiful,” said Hemant.
I completely approved his words as the view from the room was indeed beautiful with a stunning mountain at the backdrop. “This room was Shanipriya’s favorite one. She liked staying here the most.”
After spending some time in the room Hemant left and I decided to go to the garden.
In the garden I met Bhima, watchmen. He was hefty and he had enormous muscles.
“Sir, what are you doing here at this hour?” asked Bhima.
“I am not able to sleep. So, I am here to pass the time,” I replied.
“Sir, you are here to renovate this house, right?”
“Yes. How do you know about this?”
“Sir, I stay in this house. So, I know what’s happening around. Sir, Shanipriya madam was a very nice lady.”
“So, tell me something about her.”
“Sir, she was a very kind lady. I was not here on the day she died.”
“Oh, I am really sorry.”
I heard a noise of loud howling.
“Who is this crying at this hour?” I asked.
“That’s witch.”
“What?” I asked.
“Sir, in our area there is a small funeral home and whole night the witch cries there.”
I could not control my laughter hearing Bhima’s comments.
“Why are you laughing, Sir? Even in the room you are staying, there is a ghost.”
“What?”
“Yes, Shanipriya madam’s ghost stays in that room. We all have seen her.”
I could not believe what Bhima had just said. In addition, even I had no desire to believe him.
********I entered my room and I went to sleep. After a few hours I woke up abruptly. I felt a strange uneasiness. This made me tensed. Bhima’s words came to mind and I dismissed his thoughts. I opened the door and decided to sleep with the door open. Then I heard footsteps sound coming from the far end of the corridor. I followed the footsteps sound to the living room. There I saw a lady in a blue colored dress, facing towards the other side of the room. I went near her and she turned, revealing her face. I got the horrendous shock of my life.
Initially I struggled for words and then I gathered my courage and I shouted, “Shanipriya!”
I lost my breath because of fear. She came towards me. I shouted in full force, “Help me!”
I fainted in fear.

Chapter - 2 Shanipriya
I felt a splash of water on my face. I was coming back to life. After a while I could sense my breath which ran properly. I saw Ramu, Bhima and Murli had encircled me.
“Are you okay?” asked Murli.
For once I felt I lost my voice. But it was very much there.
“Sir, I saw Shanipriya madam,” my words fumbled.
“She is not Shanipriya madam. She is Samara, madam’s daughter,” said Murli assuring me. I looked at him with reservations.
“Yes Nikhil. Samara looks exactly like Shanipriya madam,” said Ramu.
Bhima seemed to have enjoyed my terror.


Sample Chapter of my Psychological Thriller Novel- The Blue Jinx
Available for Free on Amazon & Google Play
Moral of the Story: The more you think, the more you fear.
Happy Reading!


Recommended Posts For You:

The Clever Wife  | Indian Short StoriesNamaste  | Indian Short Stories

Short Thriller Stories | The Blue Jinx

This supernatural episode began in Mumbai. I had been living here with my mom, dad, younger sister and younger brother since my childhood. My entire family unloved me, excluding my mother. I hated them too, excluding my mother. It was not exactly hatred. It was dissatisfaction! The reason of their dissatisfaction was my profession. My reason of dissatisfaction was their attitude towards my profession.
They disliked me for being an interior consultant. They could not accept that their merit holder son chose to be an interior consultant. They felt I could easily be a doctor or an engineer. They could not digest my career choice. But I wanted to be, what I settle on. So, after finishing my studies I started working as an interior consultant with a realty company. I worked there for 6 years. My profession paid me less. Soon, my younger sister started earning more than me. My family’s loathing grew with it. But I was happy in my life. I knew being in a creative profession was different from a regular job. You got to struggle till you create goodwill. While I was struggling to create a name, my brother bought himself a house and a car. This made my father very happy. Unlike a normal parent’s behavior, he was not happy for my younger brother. But he was happy for the earned opportunity to taunt me. He taunted me for being a failure. But I ignored him. His disgust increased when he started searching a girl for my marriage. Even girls he intended to bring home as his daughter in law were earning more than me. This made my father hate me more than ever. He criticized me at every juncture. It became difficult for me to live with my family. However, in my salary I knew I wouldn’t be able to afford a rented flat in Mumbai. So, I continued living with them. But I had to do something to prove my profession’s worth.
I decided to quit my job and start my interior consultancy business.  I borrowed money from my mother. She gave me money without telling my father. With my mother’s blessings and support, I started my business. I bought a rented office and got a few employees on board. I hired inexperienced people so that I can pay them less. But getting a client on board was not an easy task. Mother’s money was finished paying rent, paying employees and miscellaneous stuff. Finally, after six months of misfortune, I managed to get my first client.

My first client was Mr. Sharma, a banker. He was a chaste miser. He offered me barter: If I agree to revamp his house for free and he would get me rich clients. I had to agree. I had no choice. Offending a rich client was certainly not working in my favor. To my surprise Mr. Sharma turned out to be a man of his words. Or maybe it was my good luck. Soon after revamp he hosted a party at his house and introduced me to each and every guest (my potential, would-be clients). I managed to get just one client and made a little money; not enough to pay bills and salary. I upgraded my website which exaggerated my works.
I felt my career too needed a revamp like my client’s nest. I needed a big break in my career. I needed a launch stage. Soon, I was bestowed with one opportunity via my beloved Mr. Sharma. This opportunity became the first priority of my life because of many reasons. This opportunity provided me with the desired launch stage. It involved working with a big name. It was a high paying project. It was perfect, as I needed money to maintain my consultancy business. I needed money to give it back to my mother before the borrowed money story reached my father’s knowledge. And the most important reason: I intended to make it an evidence of my profession’s value.
With my eyes set on my goal to deliver my best. I simultaneously numbered my priorities as I was driving my rented car. Things which I wanted to do first and subsequently, after successful completion of my launch stage project. I also imagined myself as a successful interior consultant, that I made lots of money, that I got a bigger house than my brother; my family (especially my father) accepted their defeat. I smiled merrily thinking about my luxurious future as I turned my car (rented car) inside the lane. I saw my two friends waiting for me outside the night club. I parked my rented car and enthusiastically ran to meet them. I hugged them, Mohit and Sahil. Today we met after a long time.
“How are you, Nikhil?” Sahil asked me.
“I am good,” I answered.
“It is so obvious you must be good. After all, you got such a nice project. Soon you will be one among India’s top Interior consultants,” said Mohit.
“I hope so,” I replied.
It was an occasion to celebrate. Sahil and Mohit were in a mood to party. We entered the night club in bursting mood. It was the weekend so the nightclub was jam-packed. We managed to get a side table. Mohit looked around for the girls. The girl in short green dress smiled at me. I looked at her and smiled. I hurriedly shifted my eyes to menu card kept on the table before my smiling act reached anybody’s knowledge. But I failed to save this brief smiling act from Mohit’s eyes.
“Let’s dance Nikhil. That green skirt girl seems to be interested in you. We will dance around her group,” said Mohit.
“Not now. Let’s eat something. I am hungry,” I answered, scanning the menu card in my hand.
“Come on Nikhil. Nightclubs are not meant for eating.  They are meant for alcohol,” said Sahil disagreeing.
Mohit too was in Sahil’s favor.
“But you guys know I don’t drink alcohol.”
“At least today you can drink for us. As this celebration is for your achievement,” said Mohit.
“That I understand, but you know, I don’t drink and I don’t smoke,” I replied.
Sahil came to my rescue and said, “We both know Nikhil since school days. Have you ever seen him consuming alcohol?” “No, never,” replied Mohit.
“Then let’s not waste time in forcing him. Let’s have a beer. What say?” asked Sahil.
“You guys drink instead of me,” I said. Mohit and Sahil laughed and our revelry truly started. We danced. We laughed. We chatted and then we moved out the nightclub to the beach. It was a full moon night. The moon looked beautiful at the backdrop of the beach. Mohit and Sahil shared a bottle of beer and I drank bottled orange juice. We talked about general things.

“The green dress girl we met was very friendly and sensible too,” I said.
“Don’t tell me you were analyzing her character. I was reading through her profile,” said amused Mohit.
“Yes, I agree she was good looking,” said Sahil.
“I too agree and she was a decent girl,” I said.
“Nikhil she was trying to impress you and you too looked impressed, why don’t you propose to her?” asked Sahil.After drinking so many bottles of beer Sahil was still in his consciousness. But Mohit was high.
“No, she is mine!” said drunken Mohit.
To calm him down I said, “Yes, she is yours.”
“Yes buddy,” shouted Mohit and fell unconscious on the beach as he fumbled his last few words.
Sahil laughed and said, “Mohit is inebriated. Anyways, Nikhil so when are you getting married?”
“You guys are too much! I am just 30 years old. At least for the next two years I don’t want a girlfriend. I don’t want wife either. I want to work. My new project is the most important goal of my life. Once I finish this one, then I will have lots of money and other assignments. I want to work very hard on this project.”
“Great. This sounds good for three of us. You work hard, earn good money and give us parties like this,” said Sahil.
I agreed.
Then alcohol caught Sahil too, and he went into a philosophical frame of mind.
“But one doesn’t plan love. It just happens. You know love comes unannounced,” he said.
“This won’t happen to me as there is no space for love in my life at the moment,” I said looking at the full moon. There was no response from Sahil for a while. That was quite awkward. So, I turned back to see him. He too had fallen unconscious on the beach. I laughed and clicked their photographs as reminiscence.
********I was waiting for Mr. Hemant Saxena in his office cabin. Hemant Saxena, a reputed name in Hotel and Construction industry. Hemant and Mr. Sharma were good friends. Hemant appreciated Mr. Sharma’s house interior. On the reference of Mr. Sharma, I was hired as an interior consultant for a few of Hemant’s projects. Today I was meeting him for the third time. He was going to give me details of my first project under his company. I was very excited. After a few minutes he entered his cabin.
“Sorry you had to wait. I was in a meeting,” said Hemant.Hemant was a 65-year-old self-made businessman. Considering his dressing style and mannerism any he could easily be mistaken as a retired army officer.
“It is okay, Sir,” I replied.
“I want to give details of your first project and I hope you give your best,” he said.
“Yes, I won’t let you down.”
“I trust you. But this project is different,” he said.
I was expecting this line. Every client of mine considered his project different. But for me they all were same. But I was wrong and this project was actually very different. I realized this much later. I was not aware of what was coming to me then. Then Hemant asked me a question which was completely off-track of our discussion.
“What do you know about me?”
“Sir, you are one of the top entrepreneurs of India,” I replied simultaneously thinking about the relevance of the question. Further straining my memory and copying the same words from his website, I continued, “You are a self-made man and you struggled a lot to build this empire.”
Hemant didn’t look impressed and he dismissed my answer, “Everyone knows this fact about me. Now, I am going to tell you few things no one knows. No newspaper will ever tell you these things about me.”
I wondered what his biography had got to do with this project.“And all these things very well relate to your project,” said Hemant as if he just read my thought.
I felt an ease on hearing this, “Yes, sure.”
He said that he belonged to a very poor family. His parents died when he was very young. He completed education on his own. After education he got first job in Nasik where he met his wife Shanipriya. They liked each other, they became friends and then they got married. They bought a small house in Nasik. He started his business which was well received. They shifted to Mumbai. Occasionally they used to visit their Nasik house. Two years back his wife died. His wife loved that house. Now he wanted to redecorate that house. He gave me the responsibility. This was my first project with him.
“Do you plan to live there?” I asked.
“This year-end I shall retire from my business. I want to spend the rest of my life in that house.”
“I think we should renovate that house according to your wife’s like and dislikes,” I suggested him.
“Good.”
“Colors, patterns, furniture, interior should be as per her taste. Her presence should be felt in every corner of the house.”
“Yeah, that’s what I wanted,” he beamed, “but I didn’t know how to describe it, name it.”
“Something we call a memory house.”
“Yes,” said Hemant and his happiness knew no limits. He looked relieved. In his happiness I would see my happiness: money, fame and victory.
I wanted to check the property. Hemant invited me to live in the Nasik house till I am satisfied with my designs. We decided to go to Nasik the following day.
I was happy and relieved to work in the direction of my goal.
********The next day we started our road travel to Nasik in Hemant’s car. He was working on his laptop. I had to pretend reading a book on interior designing. Typically, I hated reading during travel. But with a reputed client like Hemant, you got to elevate your standards. A day before travel, I had deliberately selected a book which had lots of photos and less of text.
“When you see Singh’s Dhaba then please stop the car,” said Hemant to his driver.
Driver replied to him very respectfully. After a while he stopped the car and said, “Sir, we reached Singh’s Dhaba.”
“Come Nikhil let’s eat,” said Hemant.
I was not in a favor of eating from a Dhaba. Considering hygienic factors, I suggested him that we should eat in restaurant. But he refused to listen and I had to concur.
The eatery owner Mr. Singh welcomed Hemant affectionately. They met like long lost brothers. Mr. Singh was a muscular, classic Punjabi man. He hugged Hemant tightly.
“How is everyone in your family?” Mr. Singh asked Hemant.
“All are doing well. How are you doing?”
“As usual, I am good.”
Punjabis are full of life and so was Mr. Singh. Mr. Singh’s gaze fell on me. Before he inquired, Hemant answered for me.“This is Nikhil. He works with me,” said Hemant turning to me, “Nikhil. This is Mr. Singh.”
We exchanged pleasantries. We occupied a table.
“Get us Chicken biryani, chicken tandoori, chicken tikka masala. What’s special dish in today’s menu?” asked Hemant.“Chicken sahi masala,” replied Mr. Singh.
“Okay. Get us two plates of each,” said Hemant eagerly.“Who is going to eat so much? Is Mr. Singh joining us too?” I asked.
Hemant laughed and said that this food is only for two of us.“Sir, I won’t be able to eat,” I said.
“Why are you a vegetarian?”
“No, Sir. I have a habit of eating in portions.”
“Once you eat food here. You will forget about eating in portions. You will come here again and again,” said Mr. Singh in full confidence. Hemant too agreed with his words.
“What would you like for drinks?” asked Mr. Singh.
“For me get my regular,” said Hemant. Mr. Singh smiled at him in accord.
“What would you like for drinks?” Hemant asked me.
“I don’t drink.”
Hemant asked me with surprise, “What you don’t drink?”
I repeated my answer that I don’t drink alcohol.
Hemant clarified that they were not talking about alcohol. They were talking about lassi. Hemant and Mr. Singh laughed loudly. They looked quite amused with the conversation. I too had to look amused, so I grinned and joined them. But frankly, I was annoyed. “Get us our order,” said Hemant. “And get me my regular drink and buttermilk for Nikhil.”
“And please get food in clean plates,” I said cleaning glass with a tissue paper.
Hemant and Mr. Singh giggled at full volume.
********Post lunch we commenced our road trip. I thanked God for it. Hemant and Mr. Singh’s so-called funny stories were not at all hilarious. In fact, they were a torture. I was extremely glad when we left. I learnt from the driver that the journey ahead was only for a few hours. The panorama outside was breathtaking: green mountains, long empty roads, reddish sky. It was picture perfect. The landscape and the quite climate outside strained out my saintly side. Suddenly I felt very spiritual.
Then we reached at the end part of the road journey. Hemant’s house was only twenty minutes away. But the way was very creepy. It was very dark. Only area around the car’s light was visible. I was not able to see the path beyond the car’s lights. There was forest around. I heard loud sounds of trees swinging along with harsh winds. That made a very frightening sound. The silence of the night and its typical noise further added to my fear. Abruptly a black cat crossed our path. I saw a dead body being taken for funeral. I saw a funeral ground.  I prayed to God that we soon reach Hemant’s house. Hemant looked quite comfortable. Obviously, he was habitual of these spine-chilling surroundings.
We finally reached his bungalow and our journey ended. It was small, very quiet and attractive bungalow.
“Sir your bungalow is quite attractive,” I said, looking at the bungalow.
“Bungalow? This is not my bungalow. This is my home. Bungalows, I have in Mumbai and other cities,” said Hemant. I understood how deeply associated he was, with this house. I felt I smacked a jackpot. I felt if I gave my best to this project, which I clearly would. Then all my problems would be automatically solved.
********We entered the bungalow. Hemant’s personal secretary Murli Sharma and house help Ramu were there in the living room. “Good evening Sir,” said Murli and then he looked at me and said, “Welcome Nikhil.”
I too greeted him. Hemant asked Murli if he had arranged for my stay. Murli replied positively. Ramu touched Hemant’s feet. Ramu seemed to be a dutiful servant. He was full of respect for his master. He was a short, fat man. He seemed to be in his forties, I assumed. Hemant asked Ramu to take me to my room. Hemant said he would see me at dinner time. He said post dinner; he would give me the house’s tour. He left the room and Murli followed him. “Let me take you to your room,” said Ramu.
I followed him. We entered a room at the far end of the gallery. The room was quite big. It had a big sized bed. It had a sofa in one corner of the room. It had attached bathroom. It had a study table. It had a small balcony. I liked the room instantly. “Would you like tea before dinner?” asked Ramu. I badly needed one and happily agreed.
Ramu left and I threw my bag on the floor and jumped on the bed. I was much tried. I wanted to sleep badly.Ramu’s tea and good shower took away my day’s tiredness. After some time, I met Hemant and Murli at the dining table. Ramu was serving soup.
“We have seven rooms here,” said Hemant as he sipped a spoon of soup, “post dinner I will show you around.”
“Yes, sure,” I replied, “interiors would touch your heart and you will feel her presence around.”
As I completed my statement, the bowl of curry slipped from Ramu’s hand and he started trembling. Hemant looked at him angrily and he left without finishing his food. Murli followed him. I found this incident very awkward. Murli came back.“Sir is calling you in the library,” he said.
I went to the library. Hemant was flipping pages of a photo album. He asked me to sit.
“These are old photos of my wife Shanipriya. The blue color was her favorite. She liked staying in this house as she appreciated peace and quiet surroundings.”
I saw her photograph. She was very beautiful. The blue color was indeed her favorite. I noticed in most of her photographs she had put on blue colored cloths. As promised, then Hemant took me for a house tour. He spoke about Shanipriya’s interest. I saw a romantic twinkle in his eyes when he spoke about her. Hemant truly loved his wife. After seeing the entire house, we entered my room. I mean the room in which I was staying.
“This room was our lounge because of the view from balcony. It is simply beautiful,” said Hemant.
I completely approved his words as the view from the room was indeed beautiful with a stunning mountain at the backdrop. “This room was Shanipriya’s favorite one. She liked staying here the most.”
After spending some time in the room Hemant left and I decided to go to the garden.
In the garden I met Bhima, watchmen. He was hefty and he had enormous muscles.
“Sir, what are you doing here at this hour?” asked Bhima.
“I am not able to sleep. So, I am here to pass the time,” I replied.
“Sir, you are here to renovate this house, right?”
“Yes. How do you know about this?”
“Sir, I stay in this house. So, I know what’s happening around. Sir, Shanipriya madam was a very nice lady.”
“So, tell me something about her.”
“Sir, she was a very kind lady. I was not here on the day she died.”
“Oh, I am really sorry.”
I heard a noise of loud howling.
“Who is this crying at this hour?” I asked.
“That’s witch.”
“What?” I asked.
“Sir, in our area there is a small funeral home and whole night the witch cries there.”
I could not control my laughter hearing Bhima’s comments.
“Why are you laughing, Sir? Even in the room you are staying, there is a ghost.”
“What?”
“Yes, Shanipriya madam’s ghost stays in that room. We all have seen her.”
I could not believe what Bhima had just said. In addition, even I had no desire to believe him.
********I entered my room and I went to sleep. After a few hours I woke up abruptly. I felt a strange uneasiness. This made me tensed. Bhima’s words came to mind and I dismissed his thoughts. I opened the door and decided to sleep with the door open. Then I heard footsteps sound coming from the far end of the corridor. I followed the footsteps sound to the living room. There I saw a lady in a blue colored dress, facing towards the other side of the room. I went near her and she turned, revealing her face. I got the horrendous shock of my life.
Initially I struggled for words and then I gathered my courage and I shouted, “Shanipriya!”
I lost my breath because of fear. She came towards me. I shouted in full force, “Help me!”
I fainted in fear.

Chapter - 2 Shanipriya
I felt a splash of water on my face. I was coming back to life. After a while I could sense my breath which ran properly. I saw Ramu, Bhima and Murli had encircled me.
“Are you okay?” asked Murli.
For once I felt I lost my voice. But it was very much there.
“Sir, I saw Shanipriya madam,” my words fumbled.
“She is not Shanipriya madam. She is Samara, madam’s daughter,” said Murli assuring me. I looked at him with reservations.
“Yes Nikhil. Samara looks exactly like Shanipriya madam,” said Ramu.
Bhima seemed to have enjoyed my terror.


Sample Chapter of my Psychological Thriller Novel- The Blue Jinx
Available for Free on Amazon & Google Play
Moral of the Story: The more you think, the more you fear.
Happy Reading!


Recommended Posts For You:

The Clever Wife  | Indian Short StoriesNamaste  | Indian Short Stories

Indian Folktale for Kids | King Yayati & Golden Egg

King Yayati, a brave and just king of ancient India. He loved traveling and exploring unknown destinations around his kingdom. He loved staying close to nature and often went for long trips on his horse. He considered his horse a perfect companion for these trips. These trips gave him much-needed break and time to think things otherwise he wouldn’t have bothered to notice. He often pursued these trips in disguise of a village man.‘Dear Queen this was a very clever way of naming me,’ said King Yayati.
Queen Damyanti accepted the appreciation but then she started complaining.
‘You never take me along with you on these trips,’ said Queen Damyanti.
‘I travel in disguise. Will you be able to live like a common village girl?’ Asked King Yayati.
He knew Queen Damyanti would never leave the comfort of a royal palace for a trip. Thus, he stopped Queen Damyanti’s complains forever.
Once he wandered off to a nearby place known and famous for beautiful hills. He reached the peak of the mountain, a place seen by very few people. There he saw something glittering behind a huge stone. He followed the glitter and saw a golden egg. He picked it up and took along with him. Once he reached his kingdom, he narrated the whole incident to Queen Damyanti. Mesmerised she asked him to show it to her. Golden egg’s glitter was unique. A gold like diamond’s glitter. She expressed her desire to make four bangles from it. King Yayati ordered Royal Jeweller to cut a small piece from a golden egg and make four bangles for Queen Damyanti.
After few months, Queen Damyanti’s younger brother marriage day was approaching. She ordered to make four bangles from a golden egg. King Yayati was upset with the shrunk size of the golden egg, but he was happy for Queen.
After few months, Queen Damyanti expressed her desire to create a big dormitory for patients who come from a far land to consult Vaidya (royal physician) in their kingdom.
‘Very good suggestion, Queen Damyanti,’ he said.

‘Your Highness, I suggest you should sell a small piece of a golden egg and use the money to make it, you will get a higher price for its unique glitter. We can use all the money from it for charity purpose,’ said Queen Damyanti.
King Yayati ordered Minister to sell a small piece of a golden egg.King Yayati couldn’t control his grief on the shrinking size of the golden egg and went to treasure hall to see it. He was surprised to see a golden egg in its original shape.
He realized initially he used golden egg for his personal use, while this time he had used it for charity and hence the golden egg assumed its original shape. He happily returned to his palace.
Moral of the Story: Humility has its magical perks for ones who practice it.
Happy Reading!


Recommended Posts For You:
The Clever Wife  | Indian Short StoriesNamaste  | Indian Short StoriesAbout the writer: Nisha is the author of two highly appreciated novels- First You Plz & The Blue Jinx.

Indian Folk Tale for Kids | King Yayati & Golden Egg

King Yayati, a brave and just king of ancient India. He loved traveling and exploring unknown destinations around his kingdom. He loved staying close to nature and often went for long trips on his horse. He considered his horse a perfect companion for these trips. These trips gave him much-needed break and time to think things otherwise he wouldn’t have bothered to notice. He often pursued these trips in disguise of a village man.
He asked his Queen Damyanti to give him pseudonym for his village man avatar. After thinking a lot Queen Damyanti gave him name Surya as King Yayati’s face was bright like a Sun.
‘Dear Queen this was a very clever way of naming me,’ said King Yayati.
Queen Damyanti accepted the appreciation but then she started complaining.
‘You never take me along with you on these trips,’ said Queen Damyanti.
‘I travel in disguise. Will you be able to live like a common village girl?’ Asked King Yayati.
He knew Queen Damyanti would never leave the comfort of a royal palace for a trip. Thus, he stopped Queen Damyanti’s complains forever.
Once he wandered off to a nearby place known and famous for beautiful hills. He reached the peak of the mountain, a place seen by very few people. There he saw something glittering behind a huge stone. He followed the glitter and saw a golden egg. He picked it up and took along with him. Once he reached his kingdom, he narrated the whole incident to Queen Damyanti. Mesmerised she asked him to show it to her. Golden egg’s glitter was unique. A gold like diamond’s glitter. She expressed her desire to make four bangles from it. King Yayati ordered Royal Jeweller to cut a small piece from a golden egg and make four bangles for Queen Damyanti.
After few months, Queen Damyanti’s younger brother marriage day was approaching. She ordered to make four bangles from a golden egg. King Yayati was upset with the shrunk size of the golden egg, but he was happy for Queen.
After few months, Queen Damyanti expressed her desire to create a big dormitory for patients who come from a far land to consult Vaidya (royal physician) in their kingdom.
‘Very good suggestion, Queen Damyanti,’ he said.

‘Your Highness, I suggest you should sell a small piece of a golden egg and use the money to make it, you will get a higher price for its unique glitter. We can use all the money from it for charity purpose,’ said Queen Damyanti.
King Yayati ordered Minister to sell a small piece of a golden egg.King Yayati couldn’t control his grief on the shrinking size of the golden egg and went to treasure hall to see it. He was surprised to see a golden egg in its original shape.
He realized initially he used golden egg for his personal use, while this time he had used it for charity and hence the golden egg assumed its original shape. He happily returned to his palace.
Moral of the Story: Humility has its magical perks for ones who practice it.
Happy Reading!


Recommended Posts For You:
The Clever Wife  | Indian Short StoriesNamaste  | Indian Short Stories

Indian Folk Tales for Kids | King Yayati & Golden Egg

King Yayati, a brave and just king of ancient India. He loved traveling and exploring unknown destinations around his kingdom. He loved staying close to nature and often went for long trips on his horse. He considered his horse a perfect companion for these trips. These trips gave him much-needed break and time to think things otherwise he wouldn’t have bothered to notice. He often pursued these trips in disguise of a village man.
He asked his Queen Damyanti to give him pseudonym for his village man avatar. After thinking a lot Queen Damyanti gave him name Surya as King Yayati’s face was bright like a Sun.
‘Dear Queen this was a very clever way of naming me,’ said King Yayati.
Queen Damyanti accepted the appreciation but then she started complaining.
‘You never take me along with you on these trips,’ said Queen Damyanti.
‘I travel in disguise. Will you be able to live like a common village girl?’ Asked King Yayati.
He knew Queen Damyanti would never leave the comfort of a royal palace for a trip. Thus, he stopped Queen Damyanti’s complains forever.
Once he wandered off to a nearby place known and famous for beautiful hills. He reached the peak of the mountain, a place seen by very few people. There he saw something glittering behind a huge stone. He followed the glitter and saw a golden egg. He picked it up and took along with him. Once he reached his kingdom, he narrated the whole incident to Queen Damyanti. Mesmerised she asked him to show it to her. Golden egg’s glitter was unique. A gold like diamond’s glitter. She expressed her desire to make four bangles from it. King Yayati ordered Royal Jeweller to cut a small piece from a golden egg and make four bangles for Queen Damyanti.
After few months, Queen Damyanti’s younger brother marriage day was approaching. She ordered to make four bangles from a golden egg. King Yayati was upset with the shrunk size of the golden egg, but he was happy for Queen.
After few months, Queen Damyanti expressed her desire to create a big dormitory for patients who come from a far land to consult Vaidya (royal physician) in their kingdom.
‘Very good suggestion, Queen Damyanti,’ he said.

‘Your Highness, I suggest you should sell a small piece of a golden egg and use the money to make it, you will get a higher price for its unique glitter. We can use all the money from it for charity purpose,’ said Queen Damyanti.
King Yayati ordered Minister to sell a small piece of a golden egg.King Yayati couldn’t control his grief on the shrinking size of the golden egg and went to treasure hall to see it. He was surprised to see a golden egg in its original shape.
He realized initially he used golden egg for his personal use, while this time he had used it for charity and hence the golden egg assumed its original shape. He happily returned to his palace.
Moral of the Story: Humility has its magical perks for ones who practice it.
Happy Reading!


Recommended Posts For You:
The Clever Wife  | Indian Short StoriesNamaste  | Indian Short Stories

Indian Folktale with Moral | King Yayati and Saint

Once upon a time there lived a King called King Yayati. Apart from inheriting a prosperous kingdom, beautiful crown and respect of his people. He also inherited a special gemstone – a royal blue sapphire. Stories of good luck being associated with this blue shiny stone were passed on from King’s previous generations. 
It was believed to be a harbinger of prosperity. Blue sapphire stone was named Shanipriya by one of his ancestors. Just, brave and righteous King Yayati was determined to protect Shanipriya at any cost. Having Shanipriya also gave him an immense sense of security and peace of mind. For this peace of mind and solace, he was ready to fight any evil. He felt it was a blessing of his ancestors and valued Shanipriya more than his life. Shanipriya gemstone was nothing less than family’s pride was one of his major responsibilities. Ministers too knew several thieves and even enemy kingdoms have laid their eyes on King Yayati’s special belonging.

King Yayati was lucky to have loyal officials. But his favorite was Minister Suryasen. Minister Suryasen was a kind and noble man and King Yayati trusted him unconditionally. Minister Suryasen too wanted to relieve his master from the burden of protecting gemstone Shanipriya. He too couldn’t sleep for nights devising a plan to protect Shanipriya forever and make his master happy.
One day Minister Suryasen recommended him, ‘Your Highness, a saint is staying near the river on the outskirts of our kingdom. Many families in nearby villages seem to have been benefited from visiting him.’
This aroused King’s interest. King Yayati nurtured a great respect for godmen and saints. He was very religious and knew the importance of having a mentor in life. His kingdom was famous for treating godmen and saints extremely well, who traveled from a far land.

‘Why don’t you visit him and ask him for a solution to protect gemstone?’ continued Minister Suryasen.

King agreed to go to the jungle. Minister Suryasen too accompanied him.
Saint heard Yayati’s plight and closed his eyes for long. All of a sudden, he opened his eyes and asked Yayati to come tomorrow morning along with the Shanipriya gemstone. Yayati agreed.

Next morning Yayati gave saint the stone. Saint inspected it closely.‘Your gemstone is cracked. Don’t keep it near you, part away from it as soon as possible,’ said Saint.
Disheartened Yayati said, ‘Give it to me I will throw it in the river.’ He threw the gemstone into the river and left with his Minister.As soon as the king left saint ran to the river and jumped into the river. He started looking for gemstone but he couldn’t find it.
Disappointed he came out of the river and saw Yayati and Minister standing in front of him. Yayati told him that gemstone was fake, he only wanted to test him. 
He ordered Minister Suryasen to take saint along with them to punish him.
Moral of the Story: For a successful stint always join forces with people who are honest and loyal.
Happy Reading!


Recommended posts for you:
The Clever Wife  | Indian Short StoriesNamaste  | Indian Short StoriesAbout the writer: Nisha is the author of two highly appreciated novels- First You Plz & The Blue Jinx.

Indian Folk Tale with Moral | King Yayati and Saint

Once upon a time there lived a King called King Yayati. Apart from inheriting a prosperous kingdom, beautiful crown and respect of his people. He also inherited a special gemstone – a royal blue sapphire. Stories of good luck being associated with this blue shiny stone were passed on from King’s previous generations. Thus, it was believed that gemstone protects his family and kingdom from the evil. 
It was believed to be a harbinger of prosperity. Blue sapphire stone was named Shanipriya by one of his ancestors. Just, brave and righteous King Yayati was determined to protect Shanipriya at any cost. Having Shanipriya also gave him an immense sense of security and peace of mind. For this peace of mind and solace, he was ready to fight any evil. He felt it was a blessing of his ancestors and valued Shanipriya more than his life. Shanipriya gemstone was nothing less than family’s pride was one of his major responsibilities. Ministers too knew several thieves and even enemy kingdoms have laid their eyes on King Yayati’s special belonging.

King Yayati was lucky to have loyal officials. But his favorite was Minister Suryasen. Minister Suryasen was a kind and noble man and King Yayati trusted him unconditionally. Minister Suryasen too wanted to relieve his master from the burden of protecting gemstone Shanipriya. He too couldn’t sleep for nights devising a plan to protect Shanipriya forever and make his master happy.
One day Minister Suryasen recommended him, ‘Your Highness, a saint is staying near the river on the outskirts of our kingdom. Many families in nearby villages seem to have been benefited from visiting him.’
This aroused King’s interest. King Yayati nurtured a great respect for godmen and saints. He was very religious and knew the importance of having a mentor in life. His kingdom was famous for treating godmen and saints extremely well, who traveled from a far land.

‘Why don’t you visit him and ask him for a solution to protect gemstone?’ continued Minister Suryasen.

King agreed to go to the jungle. Minister Suryasen too accompanied him.
Saint heard Yayati’s plight and closed his eyes for long. All of a sudden, he opened his eyes and asked Yayati to come tomorrow morning along with the Shanipriya gemstone. Yayati agreed.

Next morning Yayati gave saint the stone. Saint inspected it closely.‘Your gemstone is cracked. Don’t keep it near you, part away from it as soon as possible,’ said Saint.
Disheartened Yayati said, ‘Give it to me I will throw it in the river.’ He threw the gemstone into the river and left with his Minister.As soon as the king left saint ran to the river and jumped into the river. He started looking for gemstone but he couldn’t find it.
Disappointed he came out of the river and saw Yayati and Minister standing in front of him. Yayati told him that gemstone was fake, he only wanted to test him. 
He ordered Minister Suryasen to take saint along with them to punish him.
Moral of the Story: For a successful stint always join forces with people who are honest and loyal.
Happy Reading!


Recommended posts for you:
The Clever Wife  | Indian Short StoriesNamaste  | Indian Short Stories