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The Angry King

By: Belinder Dhanoa; Illustration by Aneesh Jaisinghani: A folktale from the Philippines retold in "The Broken Wing and other Asian Tales", Published by National Book Trust, India.

In the mountains of southern Luzon, there is a land of tobacco-growers. Many, many years ago, this land was ruled by a king named Hari Ka Buskid. He was a wise king, and during his reign the people of his kingdom were rich and prosperous.

The king did not scorn to go among the tobacco-growers and advise them on the best methods of tending their crops. It was not surprising, therefore, that this kingdom was known to have the best and largest crop in the land. From miles around, the people of neighbouring kingdoms would come to barter their goods in exchange for the rich, golden tobacco of King Hari Ka Buskid’s kingdom.

One day, the king called a meeting of all the elders of his kingdom. I am off on a long voyage, he told them. I do not know when I will return, for my journey is a long one as I have much work with the kings of neighbouring and far-off kingdoms.

All the men present expressed sincere regret that their king would not be present at the great occasion of the tobacco harvest. I regret too, said the king, that I cannot be here for the harvest celebrations. But I am sure that I can depend upon all present here to see that everything goes well. If I do not return soon, you must see to the planting of the next crop. It must be done, as always, in a way that will ensure a healthy crop, so that our land remains known for its good tobacco.

The very next day the king set off. Everyone wondered where the king’s travels would take him.

He is going to the other side of the mountain," said some. No, said others. His path carries him across the seas to lands that lie further than the eyes of an eagle can see. But nobody could say exactly where the king had gone, for he had told no one of his plans.

Harvest time came and the crop was beyond the expectations of the people. Our good king has taught us well, they said. That year, the tobacco was greatly praised by everyone, and the good folk of King Hari Ka Buskid’s kingdom became richer than ever before.

This is excellent, said the elders. But we must not forget the king’s instructions.

At once they began working on the mountainside so that a new crop could be planted. If the king could have seen them then, he would have been proud of their diligence and labour.

For ten years the people worked hard, and each year the crop was better than it had been the previous year. But the king still had not returned from his journey. Slowly he became no more than a memory to the people.

If the king returned to his kingdom then, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he didn’t recognise it at all. For it was ten times richer than when he left. What had been small cottages, were big houses now. And the people dressed in finer clothes.

Perhaps this is what changed the course of events. For now the tobacco-growers began to scorn working in the fields.

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