Once A Donkey Always

Jeevansingh was a prosperous trader. He often went to the nearby town to fetch goods for his shop. He took his donkey along with him, though he would not ride on him. One day, he was on his way back to his village with the donkey following him. That day he had been unable to procure many of the items he wanted. As he had roamed the town for a long time, he felt tired and decided to rest for a while. He tied the donkey to a nearby tree and himself lay down beneath a big shaded tree and soon dozed off.

He suddenly woke up on hearing loud chanting by little children. Only then did he notice that a mullah was teaching some children at his home. Now and then he heard him shout at the children for not chanting the verses correctly. He seemed to have ultimately got frustrated when he told them, "What's the fun of my shouting at you? You are all donkeys! I'm trying to make you human beings, but you seem to have taken a vow not to understand me. Go away, all of you, and come back tomorrow after learning how to recite the verses."

Jeevansingh saw the children trooping out silently, but smiling at each other. He now remembered his own childhood when he never went to any school. His school was his father's shop where he learnt how to speak, read and write and understand the intricacies of mathematics. More than all that, his father taught him how to behave with his customers, how to deal with people. So, he had no difficulty in taking over the business when his father passed away and managing the affairs of his shop. But for the first time in his life, he thought, here was someone who was trying to convert donkeys into men! And he had a donkey who was good-for-nothing except to carry loads of whatever ware he bought in the market. Probably, the donkey did not need any intelligence to do that one job and obey his commands to walk in front or follow him. He decided to meet the mullah.

The mullah, with a venerable-looking beard which was neither black nor grey but mostly white with patches of red here and there, was amused when Jeevansingh made his request to turn his donkey into a man! He laughed aloud as the trader recounted all that he heard while he was resting under the tree. The mullah found him earnest in his plea and he did not wish to disappoint him. "All right," said he, "leave the animal here and give me money to feed him for three months. I shall try my best, and you may take him away after that."

Jeevansingh handed part of the money that he had not spent in the market, relieved the donkey of the load, heaved it on to his own back and left, thanking the mullah for agreeing to his request. The clever mullah's plan was to retain the donkey with him as the animal would be useful to him, till the trader came to claim it. After all, he would not have to spend any of his own money for his food.

At the end of three months, Jeevansingh promptly arrived at the mullah's residence with all expectations of finding a strong and sturdy youth waiting for him. The mullah greeted him with a beaming smile. "Your donkey was beyond my expectations. While he learnt to chant the verses of the Koran, he slowly turned into a handsome youth. The chieftain of the next village had died and they were looking for a person who could take his place. They could not find anyone in the village itself capable of holding that post. They came to seek my advice and I recommended the donkey-turned-young man, because I was very confident of his learning and ability. The elders of the village were grateful to me. They thanked me profusely and took the youth away. I'm sure you're happy to learn how lucky your donkey was."

Jeevansingh, of course, was very happy. However, he suddenly began missing his donkey. He realised he would have been happier if he himself had the services of an intelligent young man who could have helped him in his business. He then decided to go to the neighbouring village and meet him. He straight away went there and sought the chieftain's residence.

He was at that time holding a meeting with the elders in the village. Jeevansingh thought the chieftain was not that handsome nor young as the mullah had described. But he sure appeared intelligent from the way he decided the problems besetting the village. When the meeting came to an end, Jeevansingh approached him and greeted him. "Don't you remember me, you fellow? I'm your master; I had left you with the learned mullah!"

The chieftain, fortunately, did not take exception to the way this stranger had greeted him. He courteously said, "Sir, I'm the chieftain of this village. I don't understand what you're saying and how you were my master." He did not miss noticing how the elders of the villagers were looking at each other and alternatively at the stranger with curiosity.

Jeevansingh then narrated all that happened three months ago and his meeting with the mullah that very morning. The chieftain had a hearty laugh on hearing that according to the trader, he was once his donkey! He did not take it amiss; instead he thought he should take the joke further for the sake of the simpleton. "My good friend," he said taking Jeevansingh's hands into his, "the mullah was mistaken when he told you that he had sent your donkey to be the chieftain here. In fact, it is the fakir, who is the chief of the various religious groups. You
must go and see him."

The trader now went in search of the fakir. He saw him at his prayers on the banks of the river. Jeevansingh waited till he got up and walked up to him. "Don't you remember the mullah of the neighbouring village who taught you the verses in the holy book? He had thus converted you as a fakir. Before that you were a donkey–my donkey– and I was your master."

"I was a donkey? What's all this I hear!" protested the fakir. "I don't know any mullah, and I learnt the verses in the holy book in a madrasa. By the way, are you in your senses?" queried the fakir who had by now raised his voice. "I think you're under some hallucination. I've some magic powers and I may be able to cure you, but before that you must tell me all about your donkey!"

Jeevansingh, who at one time was expecting blows like the ones he might have given his donkey, stood pacified to see that the fakir had mellowed down. So, he began his narration and ensured that he did not leave out any details, lest the magic promised by the fakir proved not effective. He started hoping against hopes that the fakir's magic would ultimately result in himself turning a donkey, who would recognise him as his former master.

The fakir had by now sat down, eyes closed. Jeevansingh, too, sat down facing him, with bated breath. The fakir slowly opened his eyes and said, "My good friend, when someone shows signs of bravery, we call him a lion. When anyone appears clever, we sometimes call him a rogue. Why, we may even call him a fox! But we know very well that the brave one is not really a lion, nor is the clever one a fox. But when we express our feelings that way, people are able to understand us better. Similarly, when the mullah found the children slow in grasping what he taught, preferred to call them donkeys, though in the heart of his heart he wished he could convert the little ‘donkeys' into intelligent men. The mullah cannot be blamed. I'm also not blaming you for expecting him to convert your donkey into a man. Go back to the mullah, and I won't be surprised if you find the donkey in his backyard. You've my blessings!"

"Thank you, O revered one," said Jeevansingh as he got up. "Today I've learnt some lessons for the first time in my life. I shall straight away go to the mullah and claim my donkey. I can't spare my animal even though he might have a blank brain."

Just as the fakir had guessed, the donkey was in the backyard of the mullah's residence. There was no sign of the mullah; so Jeevansingh untied the donkey and led him back to his own residence. The trader, as was his practice, avoided riding his donkey that day though there was no load for him to carry.