How Spitting Saved A Life

Emperor Akbar stood on the balcony of the palace enjoying a cool breeze, laden with the fragrance of flowers. The fragrance lured him to go close to the flowers. He walked down the steps, running down from the balcony to the garden. Touching ground, he slowly moved along the footpath that ran across the bed of flowers. The flowers were in full bloom. Bees buzzed around, flitting from flower to flower. The rays of the sun filtered through the leaves and formed patterns on the green grass. Emperor Akbar lost his heart to the scene.

He strolled as if in a trance. He was so lost in the beauty of the flowers and the power of their fragrance that he did not notice a stone protruding on the footpath. The emperor tripped. A shooting pain hit him. At the same time, he lost his balance, stumbled, threw up his hands and made frantic efforts to avoid a fall. He succeeded in the effort. But it left him in a state of shock and anger. He sat on a bench under a canopy of creepers over a bamboo arch, and checked the toe of his right foot. It was cherry red and throbbed with pain.
The more he examined the toe, the angrier he felt. “Where are you, you wretch? Why are you not tending the garden? Where have you vanished?” he screamed for the gardener. He got no answer. The gardener had gone to his hut to get garden scissors. Akbar gnashed his teeth in fury. ‘That man deserves death!’ the emperor muttered to himself while he hurried back to the palace.
He stomped into the durbar hall and clapped. An aide rushed in. “Go, get the gardener. Keep him in prison till tomorrow. Tomorrow, he dies.” shouted the emperor. The aide left with a couple of soldiers and proceeded towards the gardener’s hut. He cuffed the gardener and told the protesting gardener the reason behind his arrest. Hearing that her husband would die the next day, the gardener’s wife fell at the official’s feet. “Leave my poor man alone. He has not done any harm,” she wailed. “I can’t let him off. I’m only carrying out the orders of Alampana (emperor),” said the aide. Then he added, “But you have time till tomorrow morning to save your husband. And there is only one man who can help you — Birbal”.
The woman ran to Birbal, fell at his feet, and narrated her story.  Birbal took pity on the lady and instructed the aide to take him to the prison. Birbal found the gardener sitting huddled in a corner, gaping at the ceiling. He asked the aide to leave and asked the gardener to come close to him.