Dīpaka sneered. “Enough games, Raman.”
Dīpaka’s face reddened. “What would a village jester know of art? You carry mud pots while I design for kings!”
The King agreed. Dīpaka, humbled, swept the streets for seven days. On the eighth, he returned to Tenali and bowed.
The King understood. “Dīpaka, you mocked a man who teaches kings. And you left dung at his door? You are dismissed from royal service.”
The Vijayanagara palace shimmered like a peacock’s tail. King Sri Krishnadevaraya had ordered a grand celebration to welcome a neighboring king, and the task of decorating the royal court fell to the kingdom’s most arrogant artist—Dīpaka, the Royal Decorator.
At court, Dīpaka was presenting a golden peacock sculpture. “See, Majesty? This is real talent, not riddles and rhymes.”
Tenali smiled. “It is beautiful, Your Majesty. But beauty without truth is like a gilded cage—pretty to see, but empty inside.”
The King was pleased. But then he saw Tenali Raman walk in, barefoot, carrying nothing but a small clay pot.
But Tenali stepped forward. “Your Majesty, mercy is like water in a mud pot—plain on the outside, but precious within. Let him stay. But let him serve one week as a street sweeper. Let him learn that all work is sacred, and all people deserve respect.”
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