It was a dark, moonless night. Occasional flashes of lightning lit up the sombre scene and caused an eerie dance of jerky and frightening shadows in the cremation ground. Occasionally, the spine-chilling howl of a jackal or the blood-curdling laughter of evil spirits cut into the silence that hung, shroud like over the area. Altogether, it was a scene that could strike terror into the bravest of hearts. But nothing could daunt the intrepid King Vikram. Once again, he made his way to the ancient gnarled tree where the corpse was hanging. A bone crunched under his feet and a screeching ghost rose from the dust in shuddering frenzy as he marched ahead.
Unperturbed, the king reached the tree and brought down the corpse. Slinging it astride his shoulder, he had just begun his return journey when the vampire that possessed the corpse said, “O King! I fail to understand why you are toiling like this. Is it for your own benefit, or to help someone else? If it is in the name of service that you are risking life and limb, it is an utterly foolish pursuit. To illustrate, let me tell you the story of Parmeshwar who ruined not only his own life but that of his son, all in the name of charity and service.” The vampire then narrated the following story.
There once lived, in a village named Jagannathpuri, a man named Parmeshwar. People knew him as a great philanthropist; he went out of his way to help others, even by selling off or mortgaging his property. Soon he became a pauper. On his deathbed, he told his son, Arjun, “I’ve done you a great injustice, my son. A father is expected to leave a good legacy for his son; but I’m leaving you a terrible legacy of debt! But don’t lose heart. Continue helping others, as I have done. If ever you find yourself in need of help or guidance, go to our village priest, Ramanand. It was he who introduced me to this way of life.” Those were his last words.
Soon after Parmeshwar’s death, his house was besieged by his creditors who stormed in and took away whatever they could lay their hands on. But all the debts could not be liquidated with this; Arjun found that he still had to repay a loan of a thousand gold coins; and he did not have a single paisa to pay up. He was in utter despair.
Suddenly, he remembered his father’s advice. He decided to call on Ramanand to see if he could help him. The priest welcomed him and said, “Your father performed many acts of charity. You will surely reap the benefits of his piety!”
Arjun, who by now was in depths of despair, bitterly retorted, “Sir, my father spent a whole lifetime helping others; but what did he gain? Nothing!”
“My boy, it appears that you don’t know how your father lived,” said Ramanand. “In his childhood, he was stricken by a terrible disease that caused its victims waste away until they died. The patient would also suffer excruciating pain, as if his body were being endlessly
pricked by needles. It was then that your father took to practising charity as a way of life, and it was this which cured him.”
