Honesty

We would gather around him one evening on the stone platform. He sat at the head of the place while tranquility encompassed the house. We would listen to him and enjoy immensely with his tale that was never forgotten—Mansūr the young merchant in his shop at the beginning of the market would face you with his handsome face, his calm smile, and his clear eyes, displaying his wares before you: “This fabric from India, that from Syria, and this natural silk from China.” The intelligent merchant was known for truthfulness, honesty, and excellent goods. The name Mansūr in the market was on all tongues. ...

Rohan was a greedy and selfish man, never satisfied with the money he had and always coveting more. He never hesitated to deceive others to obtain money. Above all this, he was stingy and gave nothing to the poor and needy. His selfishness was so great that he wanted to own everything for himself, regardless of what others possessed. He counted every cent, large and small. Because of his stinginess toward others, he had abundant money with which he bought many lands and employed many workers. Despite his great wealth, he paid them very small amounts and was ready to lie at any time and at all times in order to increase his money. ...

In a certain land, there lived two woodcutters: one was lazy, and the other was hardworking. Both worked cutting logs in the same forest. One day, the two set out to begin a new day of work, but the weather was scorching and the sun was intensely hot. The lazy woodcutter said, “It is far too hot; let us rest for a while. We cannot possibly work in this heat.” The hardworking woodcutter replied, “What are you saying? You just rested a short while ago.” He picked up his axe and continued felling trees, while the lazy woodcutter sat beneath the shade of a tree and abandoned his work. ...

It is a story from Indian heritage, titled The Crop Belongs to the Owner of the Field. It is a heritage story that encourages honesty in work and the fruit of working with honesty. Story Events: There was a village called Kosumbur. There lived a farmer named Shankar with his wife Maya. They had some agricultural land sufficient for their livelihood. There was no means of irrigation in that village. Instead, they had to rely on rain for farming purposes, as every year they waited for rain to fall at a specific time on their farms, the lands would be watered and the crop would grow. ...