Whose Mango Tree?

Two neighbours named Kishan and Mohan came to the court, arguing loudly. Between their two gardens stood a tall mango tree, heavy with ripe golden fruit, and each of them swore that it was his.

“I planted that tree with my own hands, Your Majesty!” said Kishan.

“He’s lying! My father planted it when I was a boy, and I’ve looked after it ever since,” said Mohan.

Nobody had seen the tree being planted, and it stood exactly on the line between the two gardens. The Emperor turned to Birbal.

“Come back tomorrow,” Birbal told the two men. “I will have an answer then.”

That night Birbal sent two of his servants out. One went to Kishan’s house, and one went to Mohan’s house, and each servant knocked on the door with the same message.

“Quick! There are thieves in the mango tree. They are stripping it of all its fruit right now!”

Birbal’s servants hid nearby and watched what each man did.

At Mohan’s house, the door flew open. Mohan came running out in his nightclothes, grabbed a stick, and raced towards the tree shouting, “Thieves! Get away from my mangoes!”

At Kishan’s house, the door opened slowly. Kishan yawned and scratched his head. “Mangoes? At this time of night? Oh well, there’ll be more next year,” he said, and he went back to bed.

The next morning both men stood before the Emperor again, and Birbal’s servants told what they had seen.

“There is your answer, Your Majesty,” said Birbal. “A man who has cared for a tree for years will run out in the dark to protect it. A man who only wants the fruit for free will not bother to get out of bed.”

Kishan’s face turned red. He admitted that he had never planted the tree. He had only hoped to take the mangoes.

The tree was given to Mohan, and Kishan was ordered to pay him for the trouble. But Mohan was a kind man. That summer, when the mangoes were ripe, he left a basket of them on Kishan’s doorstep anyway.