Light Makes Prosperity

There is a Tamil saying, dipam lakshmikaram, which means “light makes prosperity.” The following tale in Kingscote and Sastri’s collection explains it.

In the town of Govindapathi there lived a merchant named Pasupati Setti, who had a son called Vinita and a daughter called Garvi. When they were small and played together, the brother and sister made each other a promise. If they ever had children who could marry one another, they would make sure those marriages took place. Garvi grew up and married a very rich merchant, and in time she had three daughters, the youngest of whom was named Suguni. Vinita had three sons. But before the promise could be kept, something happened that clouded all their hopes.

Pasupati Setti died, and his many creditors began to press for their money. Everything he owned had to be sold to pay his debts, and within a couple of months Vinita had nothing at all. He was a sensible man, though, and he bore his misfortune patiently, living honestly on the little that was left.

Garvi, in her rich husband’s house, looked at her brother’s poverty and began to worry about her promise. Should she give her daughters to his penniless sons or not? She turned the question over for months and at last decided that her children would not have poor husbands. As luck would have it, two young merchants from good families asked for her two eldest daughters, and she happily agreed and held the weddings. Only the youngest, Suguni, was left unmarried.

Vinita was hurt to the heart. He had not imagined that his sister would look down on him for being poor. But he was a wise man, and he said nothing and did nothing about it. Everyone knew of the childhood promise, though. Some people came to comfort him, while others criticised Garvi for breaking her word just because her brother had fallen on bad luck through no fault of his own.

Their talk reached Suguni, who was clever and well educated. She found her uncle polite and respectful and her cousins kind and good, and it upset her deeply that her mother had forgotten such rare qualities for the sake of money, which comes and goes. In their community it was thought very improper for a girl to choose her own husband, but she went to her mother all the same. “Mother, I know about your promise to your brother, and I’m ashamed that you broke it when my sisters married. I can’t bear that shame. I won’t marry anyone except one of my three cousins. You must give me your consent.”

Garvi was astonished. “You want to marry a beggar? We will not agree. If you insist, we’ll hand you over to your pauper, but we won’t come to see you afterwards.”

Suguni would not give in, so her marriage to Vinita’s youngest son was arranged. Vinita had not said a word to his sister about it. He had waited until all her daughters were settled before choosing brides for his sons, and he was very pleased to hear that Suguni was set on his youngest boy. He soon found two girls from a poor family for his other sons and held all three weddings as well as his means allowed.

Suguni was as noble in the way she lived as she had been in choosing her poor cousin. She was not proud or rude because she came from a rich home, and she always treated her husband, his brothers and his father with respect. Every morning Vinita and his sons went out to gather dry leaves. The three daughters-in-law stitched them into leaf plates, and the men sold these in the market for a few small coins each, sometimes more and sometimes less. Whatever the father-in-law brought home, the daughters-in-law used for the day’s needs. Suguni managed the money so carefully that the men were fed well, and she happily shared whatever was left with her two sisters-in-law. The whole family thought of her as a model of goodness. Her own parents, as they had threatened, did not once come to see how she was getting on. So two years went by.

One day the king of the town was having an oil bath. He pulled a ring off his finger and left it in a niche in the open courtyard. A kite circling overhead saw the rubies sparkling and swooped down on the ring, thinking it was meat. When it found the ring was not food, it let it fall, right into the courtyard of Suguni’s husband’s house. Suguni happened to be working there alone, and she picked up the glittering ring and tucked it into her lap.

Soon afterwards a crier went through the streets announcing that the king had lost a valuable ring and that whoever returned it would receive a great reward. Suguni called her husband and his brothers. “I have the king’s ring. A kite dropped it in our courtyard at noon. We must all go to the king, and I’ll hand it over in front of you three and explain how I found it. When he asks me to name my reward, please don’t argue with what I ask for, even if it seems very small to you.”

The brothers agreed, for they respected her and expected good to come of it. At the palace Suguni returned the ring and explained what had happened. The king was charmed by her honesty and modesty and asked her to name her reward. “Gracious king, your humble servant asks only one small favour. On a Friday night, let every light in the town be put out, even in the palace. Only my house may be lit, with whatever lamps it can afford.” “Granted, modest lady,” said the king. “You may have this privilege next Friday.”

Suguni bowed joyfully and went home. There she pawned the last jewel she owned to raise some money. On Friday she fasted all day, and as dusk fell she called her two brothers-in-law. “Brothers, I have arranged for a thousand lamps to light our house tonight. One of you must guard the front door and the other the back, and neither of you may close your eyes for a moment. If a graceful, stately woman asks to come in, tell her she must first swear that she will stay for good. If she promises, let her in. And if any woman asks to go out, tell her she must swear that she will not come back as long as she lives.”

The brothers thought this was nonsense, but they let her have her way and waited to see what would happen.

That night the whole town was dark, by the king’s order, except for Suguni’s house. The Ashtalakshmis, the Eight Prosperities, came into the town and went from house to house and street to street. Every house was dark but one. When they tried to enter Suguni’s brightly lit house, the brother at the door stopped them and asked for their oath. They swore it, and when he realised that these ladies were the Eight Prosperities, he marvelled at how wise his brother’s wife was.

A moment after the eight ladies went in, a woman came out of the back of the house and asked to leave. The brother there would not let her go until she swore not to return. She swore solemnly, and then he learned that she was Mudevi, Adversity, the elder sister of Prosperity. “My sisters have come,” she said. “I can’t stay here a minute longer. Bless you and your people. I swear by everything sacred that I won’t come back.” And unable to breathe in that house any longer, Adversity fled.

By morning the Prosperities had settled into the house to stay. The rice bag was full, the money chest overflowed and the pot held milk. Suguni’s father-in-law and his sons were overjoyed that she had driven their poverty away, and even her parents were no longer too proud to come and ask their daughter’s forgiveness. She forgave them generously and lived a long, prosperous life with all her family. The collected tale ends by connecting this magical visit with the belief that household light brings prosperity.

Where this tale comes from

“Light makes Prosperity” is the seventeenth tale in Tales of the Sun; or, Folklore of Southern India, collected by Mrs. Howard Kingscote and Pandit Natesa Sastri (London: W. H. Allen & Co., 1890; Project Gutenberg #37002). The tale opens with a Tamil proverb, dipam lakshmikaram, “light makes prosperity,” and is told to explain it. It closes by noting the belief that light in a house brings prosperity and darkness brings adversity.

Kingscote and Sastri name the eight visitors as the Ashtalakshmis, the Eight Prosperities, and Adversity as Mudevi, their elder sister. A footnote says a panam, the coin the leaf plates sell for, is generally worth two annas.

Read the original: Mrs. Howard Kingscote and Pandit Natesa Sastri, Tales of the Sun; or, Folklore of Southern India (Project Gutenberg #37002)

Best for ages 9–12 — a South Indian tale of a broken promise, an honest young bride and a clever plan that brings good fortune home.

A closer reading

Suguni’s honesty and her plan do different work. Returning the ring establishes that she will not simply keep someone else’s wealth. Her unusual reward then turns one household’s light into a unique destination for the supernatural visitors. The tale makes a proverb visible through doors, lamps and promises rather than showing an ordinary economic cause of prosperity.

The two doorways reverse the family’s circumstances: prosperity enters on a promise to stay, while adversity leaves on a promise not to return. These carefully enforced promises contrast with Garvi’s earlier broken promise. Yet the children’s marriages should not be treated as debts their parents can settle for them; Suguni’s own expressed choice is the important distinction in her case.

The family is already working together before wealth arrives. Gathering leaves, stitching plates, selling them and budgeting all contribute to survival. Suguni’s sharing of leftovers is praised by the narrator, but readers can ask whether a fair household should first ensure that everyone has enough. Poverty here does not show laziness or moral failure, and the lamp miracle is not a guarantee that ritual or good conduct will make a household rich.

Try this with the story

Compare three promises: the childhood marriage agreement, Prosperity’s oath and Adversity’s oath. Record who makes each promise and whose life it affects. Then draw the front and back doors and explain how their opposite rules make the proverb into a plot.

Think about it

• Why does returning the ring matter before Suguni requests her reward?
• What distinguishes Suguni’s choice from her parents’ childhood agreement?
• How do the two doorway promises work differently?
• Which kinds of family work happen before the magical prosperity arrives?