The sun was scorching and the heat unbearable. There was not a trace of any clouds that could hide the sun and provide any relief, momentary though it may be, on the burning body of Uttamacharya as he trod haggardly on the sand in the midst of a desert praying to God for help. He was trying to remember every good deed he had done in his life to implore God to help him survive.
Uttamacharya was a renowned priest in the town of Swarnapuri and was respected for his profound erudition of scriptures and religion. Any pooja that was performed in Swarnapuri had Uttamacharya in attendance, and in most occasions, as the chief priest. His fame had spread far and wide and in due course of time with a generous grant from the King himself, Uttamacharya had grown considerably in affluence. As Uttamacharya gained more acclaim, invitations from kingdoms far away were sent out for him. On one such journey to a foreign kingdom, his caravan was trapped in a sand storm at the end of which Uttamacharya found himself alone in the middle of nowhere. With no instruments to guide him in the right direction, and with minuscule knowledge of the desert, he started off at the direction he deemed to be the most likely to take him to a civilization.
It had been three days of wandering without any water to quench his thirst in the desert and he was beginning to wonder if his prayers might end up being in vain after all. Add to this, the trauma of discerning a water pool at regular intervals only to discover it as a mirage was proving to be excruciating for him. Soon enough his courage failed him and he fell on his knees having pivoted all his hopes on a miracle from God.
It was dark when he opened his eyes. He did not know how long he had been lying there, but when he came around he saw that he was on the floor at the centre of a thatched hut. His throat was parched and he longed for some water to quench his thirst. At one corner was a man puffing into his choolha with all his might to get the embers to turn into a flame. Uttamacharya gave out a little dry cough and the man turned around. He smiled at the scholar and took a glass full of water out of a nearby pitcher and humbly offered it to him. Uttamacharya looked at him and a certain resemblance to someone he could not place became apparent to him. Nevertheless, he took the glass with gratitude and drank the water in gulps.
After satiating himself, he thanked his host profusely and introduced himself. The host having accepted Uttamacharya's gratitude paid respects to the scholar and inquired after his health. Uttamacharya could not overcome the nagging thought in his mind that he had met this person somewhere sometime earlier. Unable to contain his curiosity anymore, he inquired, "Oh kind soul! Have we met before? I ask this as I perceive a certain familiarity in your face."
"Yes, sir! We have. At the doorstep of your house in Swarnapuri."
"Then how is that I do not remember anything about our meeting."
"Because I was a child then and had come with my father. The similarity that you allude to is probably due to my resemblance to my father. My mother had fainted on the street in front of your house and my father had come to you asking for some water."
Uttamacharya still could not recollect the incident being narrated to him. However, having found himself in many such occasions of generosity, he considered this to be one such trivial incident which would not have found a place in his memory owing to lack of any significance attached to it. He however did not let that prevent him from acknowledging this and he continued,
"It must have been a brief acquaintence then, and I am happy to see that a glass of water offered in generosity goes as far as etching a permanent place in your memory. I am really flattered."
"Yes, sir! It is a glass of water that has enabled me to remember your face distinctly. It is unimaginable that an untouchable like me would ever find an occasion to serve a noble soul like you but it is God's grace that He has provided me with an opportunity to pay you back. For it is now that you shall learn the ultimate lesson of humanity."
Uttamacharya winced a little. Drinking water at the hands of an untouchable was not something his pride would have allowed, yet there was nothing he could do about it now. He was not sure whether he understood exactly what his host was trying to convey. Whether it was a comment in his praise or criticism, he could not say, but there was something in the man's eyes that betrayed a sinister feeling. As these thoughts started creeping into his mind, his head went in a swim.
"I am not sure if I understand you correctly, young man. Have I offended you in some way?"
"You will not understand. You did not understand even on that day. My father pleaded with you invoking all the pity in you to help my mother. It was just a glass of water that all he asked for, but you did not relent and my mother died right in front of your house. It is the glass of water which you did not provide that made me resolve to take a revenge on you one day. And it is a glass of water that will make you realize and repent your mistake today."
Uttamacharya's eyes widened on hearing this. His face went pale and the limbs trembled with trepidation. It dawned on him what had transpired. Realizing that there was little time left for him, he said a silent prayer to God, and addressed the man with much difficulty,
"Young man, I have sinned by not helping another human being. I am happy that God has chosen the most appropriate way to make me realize my mistake. Please forgive me for my sins. May God bless you!"
With these words, Uttamacharya's head jerked back, his body fell back on the floor, and after a heave, his lungs perished. The glass tumbled out of his hands and out trickled the last few drops of the poison.
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