Telling Right from Wrong

Telling Right from Wrong

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Once upon a time there was an illustrious teacher who counselled young minds in a rather prestigious private school. His fame was such that pupils from all parts of the country and all walks of life came to be educated by him. Tuition was purposely kept low to allow anyone to apply, as character traits played a more important part in the selection process.

During the semester, when a pupil was caught stealing, the matter was immediately brought to the teacher’s attention along with the strong request from the outraged fellow students that the thief be promptly expelled. But the teacher simply ignored the matter.

After a passage of time the same pupil was again found guilty of the same misconduct but again the teacher abstained from taking any action.

Outraged students this time signed a petition strongly requesting the thief’s immediate dismissal, threatening to leave if this matter wasn’t satisfactorily resolved.

This time the teacher called the protesting body of students before him and said, “You may all leave if you must but he shall stay. You are all fortunate enough to know right from wrong. This unfortunate pupil however does not. Would you have me turn him out into the world when he is the one most in need of my guidance?”

The assembled students bowed their heads in shame while the thief burst into tears and repented. He never stole again and was a model student thereafter.

Fini

True Value (The Gift)

True Value (The Gift)

(Original Story)

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All of us at one time or other have come upon these wise words: “Don’t judge a book by its cover. “ Yet in our fast paced society, we often rush headlong into things, make erroneous judgements, form ill conceived opinions and then follow the wayward paths that lead us astray. We would fare far better if cool heads prevailed. Be open- minded, don’t rely so heavily on the first impressions and remember: a second opinion would help to determine the truth.

Once upon a time there was a wise young geologist named Leon who chanced upon a very rare find during excavation in high altitudes. The item was half buried in the riverbank alongside a rushing turbulent stream. To the untrained eye, the object resembled a huge chunk of ice with a slightly pinkish hue, only it was solid as a rock. But Leon having at once recognized its true value carefully stored it away until he could acquire a very elaborate box to contain it. This lacquer box had gold inlaid images depicting a court lady on her leisure time. Coral, pearl and other gems were carefully inlaid on the sides and back of the box so it looked brilliant every which way you turned it. Inside it was lined with the finest plush, soft velvet.

At the end of his carefree adventurous days, having grown rather opulent, Leon decided to settle down and remarry in order to provide his precious young boy Kori with a more stable home. A pretty young widow with a single child of her own appeared to be the most suitable candidate and so before long they were married in an elaborate ceremony. Unfortunately her true nature soon revealed itself and he discovered their underlying incompatibility. Struggling with his inner dissatisfaction over the years Leon suffered some setbacks and fell on hard times. At the urging of his second wife he parted with most of his precious possession in order to keep up with her and her daughter’s extravagant demands but always resisted the idea of selling his rare find.

Once on a quiet day alone in his study with his son, who also shared his interest in reading, Leon had allowed Kori to handle the pinkish stone. “You like it too, don’t you son?” He’d asked with bemused smile on his lips as he reached to retrieve the stone.

“Yes, papa, I do, it’s such an interesting rock. Tell me again how you found it.” In truth Kori loved the story more than the rock itself and never got tired of hearing it. His father equally enthused, always obliged him with such colorful elaboration. This day at the end of his narration however, his father looked grim and said, “I ‘m sorry you had to suffer such unwarranted hardships on my account but I could not bring myself to part with it. “ He looked up earnestly then and said the strangest thing. “Actually, I’ve been saving it for you. “ With a shrug he then arose and, after carefully placing it into that beautiful box again, walked over and promptly placed it in the safe concealed behind an obscure painting hanging above his desk.

When some years later Leon fell mysteriously ill and died intestate his holdings and the affairs of the entire estate were bestowed upon his wife. She lost no time in selling the property, the land and everything of value, including the precious box that, by the way, fetched a pretty handsome price. But as for the lump of stone inside, before selling the box, she’d simply taken it out and on the verge of throwing it away, after a second thought, thrust it into the palm of her stepson and said, “Now, don’t go complaining that I haven’t given you anything from your dad.”

The boy remembered well what his father had said that day long ago, though he’d never shared this with anyone. And so he graciously accepted this paltry gift from his stepmother and happily tucked it away in his pocket.

Predictably, she’d next sought to rid herself of the burden of Kori, and sent this poor orphan packing to a distant paternal relative. The boy grew up there modestly and without incident, till one day, when he was handling this rock in the classroom, it drew the attention of his Geography teacher.

The rest as they say is history. The piece of rock proved to be an uncut, priceless pink diamond that fetched a fortune at auction, affording the poor little boy comfort and riches beyond anyone’s imagination.



By Bo and Steve

The Haunted Pavilion

The Haunted Pavilion

(An old Chinese tale retold)

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The Haunted Pavilion Part 1

A long time ago it was a norm for scholars, ‘wandering with sword and lute’ as it was known then, to travel the countryside, seeking knowledge from ancient sites and attaining wisdom from men of learning.

It so happens, one such scholar was trekking along a road south of Anyang, en-route to the city. He’d arrived late at a village some twelve miles short of Anyang, and as night was closing in fast, he asked an old woman if there was an inn nearby.

Her response was that the nearest inn was some miles distant.

“That would not do.” The scholar hummed. “Oh well, I may as well stay the night at that pavilion I’ve just passed.”

Such pavilions were common in China at that time, used as resting places for weary travelers, and looked after by neighboring villagers. But hearing this old woman paled and at once barring his way, she cautioned, “You must not do that! The place is haunted by evil spirits and demons! No one who had stayed there had ever lived to tell the tale.”

The young scholar however dismissed her dire warnings with wave of a hand and smiling said that he was quite adept at taking care of himself. No amount of protestation from the gathered villagers would deter him and he set off for the pavilion.

When pitch darkness blanketed the earth, far from going to sleep, the scholar instead, lit a small lamp and, retrieving his book, began reading the passages out loud. Time passed and, for a long while, nothing stirred until, on the stroke of midnight, the scholar heard loud footsteps on the road outside. Peering out of the door he saw a man dressed in black. The man stopped and called for the master of the pavilion.

“Here I am,” ejected a petulant voice from just behind the scholar, startling him so that he jumped in surprise. He turned but there was no one there.

“What do you want?” The huffy voice, emerging from thin air, asked.

“Who is in the pavilion?’ the man in black demanded.

“A Scholar is in the pavilion, but he is reading his book and not yet asleep,” the voice replied.

At this the man in black sighed, and turned his steps towards the village.

The scholar shook his head and, with a slight grimace on his lips, he settled back on his makeshift bed and resumed his reading. Some while later he was again interrupted by loud footsteps and this time, as he peered out of the door, he saw a man in a red hat halting on the road outside the pavilion.

“Master of the Pavilion!” the man bellowed.

“Here I am,” again the grumbling voice came from just behind Scholar.

“Who is in the pavilion?” the man in the red hat with a fiery voice demanded.

“A scholar is in the pavilion, but he is reading his book and not yet asleep,” the voice responded.

At this the man in the red hat sighed too and turned towards the village.

“It looks like I’m not going to get any peace tonight.” The scholar put aside his book and waited for a few minutes until he was sure there was no one else coming down the road. After a time he crept out of the door and, standing on the road, called out, “Master of the Pavilion!”

”Here I am,” came the same response from within.

“Who is in the pavilion?” the scholar asked.

“A scholar is in the pavilion but he is reading his book and not yet asleep,” the voice responded.

The scholar sighed and then asked, “Who was the man in black?’

“That was the black swine of the North,” the voice answered.

“And who was the man in the red hat?”

“That was the Red Cock of the West.”

“And who are you?” the scholar then demanded.

“I am the Old Scorpion,” was the reply. At this the scholar quietly snickered then slipped back into the pavilion. He did not sleep however; instead, he stayed awake the rest of the night reading his book, undisturbed.

The Haunted Pavilion Part Two

The next morning the villagers who’d rushed to the pavilion to see if the scholar had survived the night were aghast to see him seated on the veranda with a calm composure and strumming his lute. As they gathered around him bombarding him with questions the scholar held up his hand for silence.

“Patience, soon all will be revealed.” He smiled and then rising, added, “Follow me; I shall venture to remove the curse from this building.” He quickly went back inside the pavilion with many of the villagers trailing him. He fetched his sword, unsheathed it then, turning, signaled for them to stay back. Advancing swiftly he pulled aside a rotting screen in the corner of the room. Many gasped as they witnessed a gigantic black scorpion behind it, poised to strike. With one sweep of his sword, the scholar split the creature from head to tail; the two parts collapsed lifeless to the floor. There was a hissing sound, then black coils of smoke rising from the ashes, it all simply evaporated into thin air.

Not in the least bit perturbed he next asked the villagers where they had kept a black pig.

“In the house north of the pavilion,’ those finding their voice answered, and then showed him the place.

Indeed, exactly where they had directed the scholar, he soon discovered a huge black pig. He looked up, its eyes glinting with demonic fury. Being daylight however, the possessed beast’s powers were greatly diminished. Before it could strike the scholar wielded his sword and struck a deadly blow dropping the pig stone dead at his feet.

“Now where do you keep a large red rooster?’ facing the quivering crowd, he asked.

“In a shed to the west of the pavilion,” some brave souls answered and pointed at the direction of the place.

Sure enough there was an enormous red cockerel there, with a huge red comb, and long, sharp talons. Once more, with another swift strike of the blade, the scholar decapitated the demon disguised as the bird. He too lay dead at scholar’s feet.

Later, at a feast given in honor of the hero, the scholar graciously explained to the bewildered villagers how he had discovered the identities of the demons.

And so from that day on, with the demons vanquished, no harm ever came to anyone wanting respite at the pavilion south of Anyang.

The End

Newly Elected Official

Newly Elected Official

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An official on taking up his new post, asked his predecessor: “For efficiency sake, how should I proceed?”

The retiring official sporting a big smile, begrudgingly replied: “In your first year in office, act honestly and with decorum. Act in a semi-upright way and somewhat cautiously during the second and third year. Then you can muddle along in the fourth and final year.”


The elected official heaved a deep sigh and shook his head. “How can I hold out until the fourth year?”

Fini

Forming a Government

Forming a Government

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Once upon a time in a land far, far away, there lived a very famous election pundit who was reported to have almost psychic abilities and could accurately predict the future. So renowned was his ability that reporters from the farthest reaches of the country came to seek him out for his counsel.

It so happened that a minority government in this fairly opulent country had caused several elections in a very short span of time. Now on the heels of yet another non- confidence vote, an election was being held. The incumbent was fearful of minority government and fearful still of a coalition that would force another election. Among the countless politicians vying for the coveted position the three frontrunners found themselves to be campaigning in the pundit’s riding and decided to seek out his wisdom. They scheduled separate appointments and at the appropriate time secretly called upon him to enquire which among them would be the successful candidate. They were surprised to see each other there at the same time. After exchanging wide- eyed glances the trio was met by an assistant and swiftly ushered into a musty, dimly lit room where a heavily carpeted floors, ancient tapestries and antique furniture along with wall-to-wall bookcases immediately intimidated any visitor.

The aged wise man seated by the cosy fire signalled for the trio to come forward and be seated before him.

The boldest one bowing his head slightly put the question forward in a respectful tone.

After a momentary pause he closed his eyes and silently pointed an index finger at the trio. The frontrunners were baffled by this gesture and exchanged quizzical looks. Then one of them, professing his ignorance, politely requested an explanation.

The pundit rose up in anger, “The will of the people cannot be any plainer.” He then exited the room in a huff.

Shaking their heads and somewhat miffed, the trio quietly left the premises.

That evening the assistant, no longer able to hold his query, asked, “Sir, which of the three will be the successful candidate?”

The pundit answered quietly: “The exact number is already known.”

“Does a single finger mean that only one of them will form the government?”

“Yes”

“But what if two of them are successful?”

“Then it means one of the three will fail.”

“And can all three of them be successful?”

“A single finger implies that all will succeed at one time or other.”

“And what if all of them fail to form a government?”

“My single finger means that not even one of them will be successful.”

The assistant quickly saw the point and said, “So this is Democratic Will!”


The End

Two Tigers Fighting

Two Tigers Fighting

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Once upon a time there were two powerful nations at war.

As each were equal in might the fierce, continuous engagement had lasted for over two years wasting away manpower, arms and draining the treasury with neither of them gaining an advantage.

The long drawn out war presented certain advantages to an adjoining kingdom. The Sovereign of this neighboring country was considering intervention to bolster his country’s prestige and might. He called a war counsel and asked his ministers for their opinion. The ministers were divided; some claimed this was an opportunity that should not be missed, others claimed it would only draw their country into this never ending conflict and the losses would far outweigh any advantages. Only one junior minister, Roltan, had remained quiet on the subject. After several hours of discussion the King, left with a serious quandary, dismissed the entire counsel, save for Roltan.

"You have abstained from voicing your opinion, any reason for that?" The King addressed Roltan when the chamber had emptied.

"Your Majesty is most discerning," Roltan begun with certain eloquence. "Your Highness, if I may be so bold as to relate a short story about what had happened to me once. When I was in my teens, to test my mettle, I undertook the task of hunting a pair of Tigers that were terrorizing a village."

"To lure the tigers to a trap, I first tied an ox to the trunk of an ancient tree in a clearing just outside of the village perimeter. When the tigers, as expected, descended upon the captive prey, I readied myself to strike. Fortunately I had with me a seasoned hunter, who quickly advised me to hold still. " Roltan exhaled thoughtfully.

"Wait,"  he said.  "If you confront them now they will both attack you in unison. The beasts are just beginning to devour the ox. When they are halfway through, finding the meat rather savory, they will fall into strife as they contend for the choicest parts. After the fray the smaller one will be bested while the big one will suffer injury. Then you will easily finish them both and win certain fame for killing two tigers at once."

Roltan paused, collecting his words before he again spoke. "Never before has our Kingdom been in a more advantageous position to reach its true potential."

The king eyed this young recruit with an appraising smile. It was in fact his secret ambition to ultimately subjugate these other kingdoms under one rule; his rule.

The End

The Snake in a Goblet

The Snake in a Goblet

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Once upon a time there was a very powerful Governor, honest but severe. Like so many astute officials he frowned on idle chatter; however his position required him to at least keep in touch with the local gentry. Even so he would quite often opt out of the many frivolous social obligations, seeing them as waste of his time. In those infrequent times spent away from his duties he much preferred solitary hunting trips. He only had one vice, if it could be called that, for he liked collecting finely crafted hunting weapons.

Squire Lee, who had an inflated sense of himself so common to that class of opulent gentry, could not accept being shunned by the Governor and so, after some coercion, had obtained a reluctantly proffered invitation to dinner.

Received graciously, he was ushered to a private hall where he was served a modest feast and some choice wine. Having proposed a toast, Lee raised the goblet to his lips and was about to take a sip when his eyes suddenly caught a coloured snake wriggling at the bottom of his cup. As it would have been rude to do otherwise, he restrained his fright and drank anyway. There was no sensation of the snake passing dawn his throat, therefore Lee deemed it to be a supernatural phenomenon, or some form of spell and from that moment on began to feel rather ill.

Seething with anger he returned home and at once called for the family physician. The physician, despite his extensive examination, could find absolutely nothing wrong with Lee. The Squire, nevertheless, still felt seriously ill and took to his bed from then on. Seeing his demise approaching ever nearer, he eventually decided to unburden the source of his grave trouble to his closest friend Ricker. “I’ve been wronged so needlessly. “ He exhaled in a whimper at the end of his fantastic accounts. “After my passing, I beseech you to avenge my death!”

Aggrieved at his friend’s condition, but being a more reasonable person, Ricker extracted a promise from Lee to hang on to life till his return.

After some finagling, Ricker acquired a private invitation from the Governor. He, too, was received graciously and ushered to the same hall. At the conclusion of their discussion of the supposed pressing matter of state, he was asked to stay on for some food and refreshments.

Seated in the same honoured seat as his friend, Ricker raised the goblet of wine to his lips. Lo and behold, he too saw the same vision as his friend at the bottom of the goblet. Hesitating for a second, he took a generous sip, and then discretely looked about him.

Hah, there was the culprit! Suppressing a bursting laugh, Ricker’s eyes remained fixed for a spell on the magnificent bow, hanging from the high ceiling.

The Governor, seeing the object of his attention at once volunteered, “I was most fortunate to have acquired that rare hunting bow from a Chief of the Gugeos tribe. Isn’t it magnificent?”

“Indeed it is. “ Ricker exclaimed, after sipping some more wine. “It looks decidedly deadly, carved with such meticulous detail to imitate a venomous snake.” He kept the rest to himself, deciding to spare his foolish friend any further humiliation.


The End