In the great and glorious days of the Badshah Akbar (Emperor), he had a
very favourite minister of the name of Bīrbal. This minister was
without doubt the ablest statesman at the Court, and no State question
was decided without reference to him.
Some say he was also a general in the army, and that by his skill he
greatly assisted Akbar to extend his dominions. Bīrbal was, however, a
Hindu, a Brāhman of the tribe of Bhât, and his real name was Mahes Dās,
but so tolerant was “Akbar Badshah” to all religious sects that if a
man were wise and skilful he cared not of what faith he might happen to
be. Bīrbal was also full of wit and humour, and had such a pleasing way
of putting things, that he could talk to the Badshah in a manner that
other ministers would not dare to do.
It so happened, however, that one day he unwittingly gave offence to
the Badshah, and so enraged did Akbar become that Bīrbal, fearing his
wrath, fled the country. Disguising himself as a Fakir, he begged his
way from village to village, and at last settled down on the extreme
frontier of the Badshah’s empire.
[Illustration: AKBAR AND HIS MINISTER.]
Days and months passed by, and the Badshah began to feel more and more
the loss of his once favourite minister, and though himself searching
in the villages near at hand, and making diligent enquiries everywhere,
he failed to discover the slightest trace of him.
Crushed by grief and broken-hearted, he at last called a council of his
ministers, and stated to them how much he missed the presence about him
of his old attached friend Bīrbal. They, perhaps somewhat jealous of
his pre-eminence in the mind of the Badshah, seemed to be callous and
indifferent as to his fate. Whereupon the Badshah became as enraged
with them as he had before been with Bīrbal, and threatened to
decapitate them if his hiding-place were not soon discovered, and the
runaway brought back to him.
The ministers and nobles in their alarm, at last hit upon an expedient
which they submissively laid before the Badshah.
They said, “Oh Badshah! If an order is given throughout the Empire of
so senseless and foolish a nature that it will be impossible for any of
your Majesty’s subjects to comply with it, there is just a chance that
we may be able to find out the place of concealment of the ever terse
and humorous Bīrbal.”
The Badshah listened to their suggestion, told them to act up to it,
but under any circumstances, and at the cost of their heads if they
failed, Bīrbal must be brought ere long into the Presence.
Accordingly an edict went forth calling upon the “Headman” of every
village in the Dominions, on pain of death, to bring the principal
“well” of the village to do obeisance to the King’s “well” at the
Palace. The edict was entrusted to horsemen who conveyed it to every
village in the Empire.
The whole country was filled with lamentation and distress, for it was
seen to be impossible to conform to the order of the Badshah.
When the proclamation reached the village where Bīrbal was in hiding,
he shared in the sorrow around him, and bethought him of a way of
escape for the people, but he was known to them only as a Fakir.
At last he said to the Headman of his village, “Take with you some of
your principal tenants, and go to the outside of the Badshah’s Palace;
then send a messenger within the Palace, to say that in obedience to
the order of the Badshah you have brought your ‘well’ without the
walls, and that it is ready to do obeisance to the King’s ‘well.’ Say
also that as it is the custom of the country for the elder brother to
advance to meet the younger, that as soon as your ‘well’ sees the
King’s ‘well’ approaching to it through the gates of the city, it will
without delay rise to pay its respect, and accompany it back to the
Palace.”
This they did exactly as the disguised Fakir, Bīrbal, had told them.
Arriving at the outside of the city walls they deputed the most
intelligent man of their party to present himself before the Emperor.
The Emperor was seated on his “Peacock Throne,” or “Takht-e-Taoos,”
having on the right of the Throne a courtier carrying the “Golden Hand”
to keep off the Evil Eye, and known as “Punjah,” from its having five
fingers extended; and upon the left another courtier, bearing the
emblem of the Fish, termed in Arabic the “Mahee-Moorâtib,” the badge of
dignity and success.
The Messenger advanced to the Throne and stated his mission to the
Emperor, and ended by saying that the “well” of his village was without
the city walls, waiting to receive the King’s “well.”
The Emperor was baffled for the time, and then turning to one of his
ministers, he directed him to visit the delegates beyond the walls. The
minister went, and at once returned, saying that the reply to the
Badshah’s order and to the proclamation, given with such sagacity and
wit, could come, he thought, from no other than the absent minister.
This the Emperor was ready to credit, and a clue being thus obtained,
the ministers formed a party and proceeded to the village, where after
some little time, they succeeded in discovering Bīrbal in the austere
garb of a mendicant Fakir.
Surprised and powerless, he was conveyed back to the city, and to the
Royal Presence, and the Emperor came forward to receive him; and then
after a few formal greetings the Emperor ordered a robe of honour to be
brought and put upon him, and he was again promoted to his position and
rank at the Court.
It was not long after this that the country was at war again with the
Pathans and tribes in the “Bunēr” Mountains. Bīrbal was given the chief
command, and here in one of the first engagements he was unfortunately
killed, but his name still lives amongst us as the most able and witty
minister that the Badshah Akbar had ever called to his councils.
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