The Line That Got Shorter

One morning the Emperor Akbar came into court with a piece of chalk in his hand and a gleam in his eye. Without a word he knelt down and drew a straight line across the marble floor.

“Here is a little test,” he announced. “Who can make this line shorter, without rubbing out any part of it, and without touching it at all?”

The courtiers crowded round. One of them squinted at the line from the left. Another studied it from the right. A third lay down on the floor to look at it closely, and then got up again feeling foolish.

“Rub out the end of it,” suggested someone.

“That is touching it,” said the Emperor.

“Cut the floor?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

The courtiers argued and shook their heads. Some said it couldn’t be done, and that the Emperor was only teasing them. Finally Akbar turned to Birbal, who had been watching quietly with his arms folded.

“Well, Birbal? Can you make my line shorter?”

“I think so, Your Majesty. May I borrow your chalk?”

Birbal knelt down. Right beside the Emperor’s line, without touching it, he drew a second line, a long one, nearly twice as long as the first. Then he stood up and dusted off his hands.

“There, Your Majesty. Your line is now the shorter one.”

The court burst into laughter and applause. Akbar clapped Birbal on the shoulder.

“Exactly right. You didn’t touch my line at all. You simply made something greater beside it.”

Then he turned to the courtiers, and his voice became more serious. “Remember this, all of you. You will never become bigger by cutting other people down. Draw your own line longer, and you will have no need to rub out anyone else’s.”

Some of the courtiers looked at their feet, because they had spent a great deal of time trying to rub out Birbal’s line. But Birbal only smiled and handed the chalk back to the Emperor.