The Golden Mangoes
The king’s mother dies wishing for a mango, and greedy priests tell the king he must give them mangoes made of gold. Tenali Raman has a remedy of his own. By Pagehush Retellings (2026). A traditional tale from the court of King Krishnadevaraya of Vijayanagara, retold in our own words.
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हिन्दी में पढ़ेंसोने के आम · वही कहानीThe old mother of King Krishnadevaraya fell ill. In her last days she longed for a mango, sweet and ripe. But it was not the season, and none could be found anywhere in the kingdom. She died without tasting one, and the king was heartbroken.
A group of greedy priests came to him. “Your Majesty,” they said solemnly, “your mother’s soul cannot rest in peace while her last wish is unfulfilled. You must give mangoes to Brahmins in her memory. But ordinary mangoes are not enough. They must be mangoes made of pure gold.”
The king, in his grief, agreed at once. A hundred golden mangoes were made by the royal goldsmiths and given to the priests, who carried them home rubbing their hands.
When Tenali Raman heard about it, he was angry. The king was being cheated in his sorrow. So he sent a message to the same priests.
“My own dear mother died last year,” it said, “and she too had a last wish that was never granted. I need your help to give her peace. Please come to my house tomorrow, and I will reward you.”
The priests, expecting more gold, hurried over the next morning. They found Tenali Raman standing beside a fire, with long iron rods heating in the flames until their tips glowed red.
“Welcome, welcome,” he said. “You see, in her last days my mother suffered terribly from pains in her legs, and she wished that someone would cure them with hot iron, as the old healers did. She died before it could be done. So, according to your own teaching, I must now touch each of you with a hot iron rod, in her memory, so that her soul can rest.”
The priests went pale. “That is madness!”
“Is it?” said Tenali. “You told the king that because his mother wished for a mango, you must have golden mangoes. Surely, because my mother wished for hot iron, you must have hot iron?” And he lifted one of the glowing rods.
The priests turned and ran. That same afternoon they brought back every one of the golden mangoes to the king and begged his pardon.
When the king learned what had happened, he was furious with Tenali at first for frightening holy men. But then he understood what the priests had done, and what Tenali had done for him.
The golden mangoes were melted down, and the gold was used to feed the poor of Vijayanagara in the queen mother’s memory. And that, said everyone, would surely have made her happier than any mango.
