The Root of the Rasagulla
The king wakes up craving rasagullas, but a courtier tells him the plant they grow on is out of season. Tenali goes to find the root. By Pagehush Retellings (2026). A traditional tale from the court of King Krishnadevaraya of Vijayanagara, retold in our own words.
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One evening, after a long day of meetings, King Krishnadevaraya sat back in his chair and sighed. “Do you know what I would love right now? A rasagulla. A soft, white rasagulla, full of syrup.”
A courtier who didn’t want to go out and fetch one said quickly, “Alas, Your Majesty, rasagullas are out of season. The rasagulla plants won’t give fruit until next spring.”
The king was not a cook, and he had never thought about where rasagullas came from. He looked disappointed but believed it. Tenali Raman, sitting nearby, raised one eyebrow.
“Then I wonder,” said the king, “what the root of a rasagulla plant looks like. It must be a remarkable thing.”
“I can bring you one, Your Majesty,” said Tenali. “Give me until tomorrow.”
The next day Tenali came to court carrying something wrapped in a silk cloth, holding it very carefully, as if it were precious.
“Here it is, Your Majesty. The root of the rasagulla.”
He unwrapped the cloth. Inside was a long, knobbly stick of sugarcane.
The king picked it up and turned it over. “This is a stick of sugarcane.”
“Exactly, Your Majesty. The sweetness of every rasagulla starts here. The juice of the cane is boiled down into sugar. The sugar is made into syrup. And the rasagullas are soaked in the syrup. So this is the true root of every rasagulla in Vijayanagara.” He bowed. “And it is never out of season.”
The courtiers laughed, all except the one who had made up the rasagulla plant, who wished the floor would open and swallow him.
The king laughed too, and then he looked over at that courtier. “Not in season, you said?”
The courtier stammered something about having been misinformed.
“Then today,” said the king, “you may go to the sweet shop in the bazaar and fetch rasagullas for everybody in this court. And pay for them yourself.”
That afternoon the whole court ate rasagullas, sticky and sweet and swimming in syrup. The king saved the stick of sugarcane on his desk, and whenever someone gave him an excuse that sounded too convenient, he would tap it and say, “Remember the rasagulla tree.”
