Outsmarted!

Shambu sat contentedly cross-legged on a cot and contemplated on the rosy present. Today was his son's marriage! Throughout the house people were busy making arrangements for the evening's ceremony. The hustle and bustle of activity was clearly audible to Shambu from where he sat. Suddenly, the door of his room swung open and a servant rushed in.

"Master, the cook says that our big cauldron is not sufficient!" cried the servant. "We'll need another one!"

Shambu frowned. "The shops are closed today," he said thoughfully. "I'll have to borrow a cauldron!" He scratched his head. "Hmm...let's see now...perhaps Girdhari Lal might give me his..."

But Girdhari Lal proved to be a tough lender. "Ordinarily, I wouldn't have minded giving you my cauldron," he told Shambu when when the latter approached him. "But, now, there's a complication."

"What complication, my friend?" asked Shambu puzzled.

Girdhari Lal cleared his throat in a self-conscious manner, as we all tend to do when about to tell a story that is patently false. "Er...well, you see," he began, averting his eyes from Shambu, "my cauldron will be giving birth to a baby any moment now. You can take it if you promise to return its baby pot along with it."

For a moment, Shambu did not understand. "What are you saying, my friend?" he asked amazed. "How can a cauldron give birth to a baby?"

Girdhari Lal looked Shambu straight in the eyes. "It is as I say," he replied.

Then realisation dawned on Shambu. Girdhari Lal was trying to take advantage of his difficulty! Knowing how badly he needed a cauldron, Girdhari Lal was trying to extract a free pot in return for lending him one!

For a moment, Shambu debated with himself. The marriage function was only a few hours away - and the cook would need all that time to cook the various dishes that were to be served. There was no time to try his luck elsewhere!

Shambu shrugged his shoulders helplessly. "Very well, then, Girdhari Lal," he said. "I'll accept your condition! Please give me your cauldron."

A few days later, Shambu met Girdhari Lal again and handed over to him a small gleaming pot. "Here's the baby pot which your cauldron gave birth to, Girdhari Lal!" he declared. "But I'll need your cauldron for a few more days."

Girdhari Lal looked greedily at the shining pot in his hands. He gave a pleased smile. "It's all right, my friend Shambu! You can return the cauldron later."

A month went by but Girdhari Lal heard nothing further from Shambu. Finally, his patience wore out. Thinking dark thoughts about his neighbour, Girdhari Lal one day set off for Shambu's house. Shambu was standing on the verandah of his house.

Girdhari lal came straight to the point. "My friend, you've had my cauldron for a month, now. Why don't you return it?"

Shambu looked downcast. He gave a big sigh. "I'm really very sorry, Girdhari Lal," he replied in the manner of a prophet of doom. "You'll be sad to know that, unfortunately, your cauldron has died!"

Girdhari lal could not believe his ears. His eyes shot out like a snail's and his face grew purple. "Died?" he shouted. "A cauldron cannot die!"

Shambu's eyes widened. He looked very surprised. "Come, come, don't be ridiculous!" he exclaimed, a triumphant note in his voice. "You believed that your cauldron could give birth. Why will you not believe that it can die?"

Girdhari Lal's mouth fell open. He could only stare dumbly as Shambu, without a backward glance, walked into his house and shut the door behind him. He, Girdhari Lal, had been completely outsmarted!