The Beetle and the Silken Thread

The story is set in the city called Allahabad in the 1919 book, standing where two holy rivers meet: the Ganges, which Hindus lovingly call Mother Ganga, and the Jumna.

The ruler of Allahabad was a selfish, hot-tempered raja named Surya Pratap, which means “Powerful as the Sun.” He expected everyone to obey him instantly and punished anyone who hesitated. He never listened to explanations, and he never admitted he was wrong, even when he knew perfectly well that he was. His chief minister, his vizier, was a man he trusted and seemed truly fond of, for he liked to keep him close by. The vizier’s name was Dhairya-Sila, “the Patient One,” because nothing ever made him lose his temper. The raja had given him a beautiful house, plenty of money and jewels, carriages and fine horses and many servants. But what Dhairya-Sila loved best of all was his faithful wife, Buddhi-Mati, “the Sensible One,” who would have died for him.

Many people were jealous of the vizier and kept making accusations against him. The raja ignored them all, and punished the people who tried to turn him against his favourite. It seemed that nothing could ever harm Dhairya-Sila. But he often told his wife that such good luck could not last, and that she must be ready for a change.

He was right. One day the raja ordered him to do something he believed was shameful. Dhairya-Sila refused. He told his master that he was wrong even to think of it and begged him to give up the idea. “If you do this,” he said, “you will wish all your life that you had listened to me, because your conscience will never let you rest.”

At these brave words, the raja flew into a terrible rage. He called his guards and ordered them to take Dhairya-Sila outside the city to a very tall tower and leave him at the top, with no shelter from the sun and nothing to eat or drink. At first the guards were afraid to touch the vizier, remembering what had happened to others who had spoken against him. The raja grew angrier and angrier, but Dhairya-Sila stayed perfectly calm. “I will come with you gladly,” he told the soldiers. “It is for the master to give orders and for me to obey.”

The guards were relieved. They admired his courage, and they felt sure the raja would soon find he could not manage without him, so they did not want him harmed by their hands. They simply walked around him, and Dhairya-Sila, holding himself very straight, walked to the tower as if he were glad to go. But in his heart he knew it would take all his cleverness to escape with his life.

When her husband did not come home that night, Buddhi-Mati was very worried. She guessed at once that something had gone wrong and went out to find out what. That was easy. As she crept along with her veil pulled close so that no one would know her, she passed groups of people talking about the terrible thing that had happened to the raja’s favourite. She waited until midnight, when the streets were empty, and slipped out to the tower. In the faint starlight she could just make out the man she loved more than herself, leaning over the railing at the top.

“Is my dear husband still alive?” she called softly. “Is there anything I can do to help him?”

“You can do everything I need,” Dhairya-Sila answered quietly, “if you follow my directions exactly. Don’t imagine for a moment that I have given up hope. Even now I am more powerful than my master, who has only shown how weak he is by trying to harm me. Now listen. Come back tomorrow night at this same time, and bring these things: first, a beetle; second, sixty yards of the finest silk thread, as thin as a spider’s web; third, sixty yards of cotton thread, as thin as you can find but very strong; fourth, sixty yards of good strong string; fifth, sixty yards of rope, strong enough to hold my weight; and last but not least, one drop of pure honey.”

Buddhi-Mati listened carefully and began to ask questions. “Why do you want the beetle? Why the honey?” But her husband stopped her. “I have no strength to waste on explaining,” he said. “Go home in peace, sleep well, and dream of me.”

So she went home, and early the next day she set to work. It was hard to find silk thin enough, as fine as a spider’s web, but the cotton, the string and the rope were easy to buy, and to her surprise no one asked what she wanted them for. Choosing the beetle took her a long time. She had a feeling that the threads and the rope were meant to help her husband climb down, but she could not imagine what the beetle and the honey were for. In the end she chose a handsome, strong-looking beetle with brilliant colours that lived in her own garden and that she knew was fond of honey.

At exactly the right time, she was back at the foot of the tower with everything she had been asked to bring. “Is all well with you?” she whispered into the darkness. “I have the silk thread as fine as gossamer, the cotton thread, the string, the rope, the beetle and the honey.”

“Yes, all is still well,” answered Dhairya-Sila. “I slept well, because I was sure you would bring everything I need. But I dread the heat of another day, so we must get away from this terrible tower quickly. Now listen carefully to everything I say, and don’t speak loudly, or the guards nearby will hear and drive you away. First, tie the end of the silk thread around the middle of the beetle, leaving its legs free. Then rub the drop of honey on its nose and set it on the wall with its head pointing up towards me. It will smell the honey, but it won’t know it is carrying the honey itself. It will climb upwards, hoping to find the hive the honey came from. Hold the rest of the silk tightly and let it out little by little as the beetle climbs. Don’t let it slip, because my life depends on that thin thread.”

Buddhi-Mati’s hands shook and her heart pounded as she understood how much depended on her. But she kept the silk from tangling, and when it was nearly all let out, she heard her husband say, “Now tie the cotton thread to the end of the silk, and let it out slowly.” She did, and now she understood what all these things were for.

When the little beetle reached the top of the tower, Dhairya-Sila picked it up and gently untied the silk thread from its body. He tucked the beetle carefully into a fold of his turban. Then he began to pull up the silk very, very slowly, for if it broke, his clever plan would be finished. Soon he had the cotton thread in his fingers. He broke off the silk, wound it up and put it in his turban too. It had done its job well, and he would not throw it away.

“Half the work is done,” he whispered to his wife. “You have almost saved me. Now tie the string to the end of the cotton.”

Joyfully, Buddhi-Mati obeyed. Soon the cotton and the string were pulled up too, and then the strong rope tied to the string. Now the clever vizier knew he would not die of heat or hunger. When he had the whole rope at the top, he tied one end to the iron railing around the platform and slid quickly down to the bottom, where his wife stood waiting for him, trembling with happiness.

He hugged his wife and thanked her for saving him. Then he said, “Before we go home, let us give thanks to God, who helped me by putting this idea into my head.” The happy couple knelt down and gave thanks together.

“And now,” said Dhairya-Sila, “we must take the dear little beetle that rescued me back to where it came from.” He took off his turban and showed his wife the tiny creature lying in its soft folds. Buddhi-Mati led him to the garden where she had found it. He laid the beetle gently on the ground, brought it some of the food he knew it loved, and left it to go back to its old life.

He spent the rest of the day quietly at home, keeping out of sight of the servants in case they told the raja he was back. “You must never tell anyone how I escaped,” he said to his wife, and she promised she never would.

All this time the raja was miserable. He thought he had caused the death of the one man he could trust. He was too proud to let anyone see that he missed Dhairya-Sila, but he longed to send for him before it was too late. So imagine his relief and surprise when he was told that the vizier was at the palace door asking to see him.

“Bring him in at once!” cried the raja. A moment later Dhairya-Sila stood in front of him, his hands folded on his chest and his head bowed. The courtiers watched eagerly, wondering how he had got down from the tower, and some of them were far from pleased to see him. The raja hid his delight and pretended to be angry. “How dare you come before me? Which of my people dared to help you escape the death you deserved?”

“None of your people, great and glorious ruler,” replied Dhairya-Sila, “but God, who made us both, you as my master and me as your humble servant. God saved me, knowing that I had done nothing against you. I had not been long on the tower when a great eagle appeared above me, hovering with its wings spread wide. I was terrified that it would swoop down and tear me apart. But instead it picked me up in its claws, flew swiftly through the air, set me down on the balcony of my house, and vanished. My wife was overjoyed, but I tore myself away from her to come and tell you how heaven had stepped in to prove that I am innocent.”

The raja believed that a miracle had happened. He asked no more questions and gave Dhairya-Sila back his old place as vizier, and he was careful never to mistreat him after that, believing that God was watching over him. Although the source narrator condemns his lie, the vizier did very well for the rest of his life. In time he became the real ruler of the kingdom, because the raja relied on his advice in everything.

He grew richer and richer, but he was never truly happy, because he could not forget the lie he had told the master who had given him so much. Buddhi-Mati never understood why he had made up the story about the eagle, and she kept begging him to tell the truth. She thought it was far more wonderful that a little beetle had saved him than a great strong bird, and she wanted everyone to know how clever her husband was. She kept her promise and never told, but the secret came out all the same. By then Dhairya-Sila was so powerful that no one could harm him, and when he died, his son took his place as vizier.

About this tale

This tale comes from Hindu Tales from the Sanskrit (1919), translated by Siddha Mohana Mitra and adapted for young readers by Mrs. Arthur Bell (Nancy Bell, who also wrote as N. D’Anvers). In the original book each chapter ends with questions for children to think about.

The trick of sending a creature up a wall with a thread tied to it, then pulling up thicker and thicker lines, appears in stories from many parts of the world.

Read the original: S. M. Mitra, trans., adapted by Mrs. Arthur Bell, Hindu Tales from the Sanskrit (Project Gutenberg #11310)

Reading guidance: For ages 9–12 with an adult. The ruler threatens death by exposure and starvation, and the ending raises a difficult question about honesty under coercion.

A closer reading

The rescue moves from what can travel lightly to what can bear a person’s weight: silk, cotton, string and rope. No single strand could perform every stage. Buddhi-Mati’s careful gathering, timing and handling are as necessary as her husband’s design, and returning the beetle recognizes the smallest participant rather than discarding it after use.

The ending asks for a harder judgment than the escape. The raja has tried to kill a minister who refused a wrongful order, and still threatens whoever helped him. Concealing the method can protect Buddhi-Mati, even though the narrator treats the lie chiefly as ingratitude toward a generous master. A ruler’s earlier gifts do not justify attempted killing or create a duty to expose a rescuer.

The honey-led beetle is a story mechanism, not a dependable account of insect behavior or a safe climbing system. The useful idea to explore is the sequence of progressively stronger connections; it does not require tying anything to a living insect or trying to climb.

Try this with the story

Use paper cards for beetle, silk, cotton, string and rope. Arrange them in the order needed and explain why reversing two stages would fail in the tale. Then compare the raja’s question about who helped with the vizier’s eagle story: what risk does the invented explanation conceal?

Talk about it

• Why did Dhairya-Sila need so many different kinds of thread and rope?
• Why do you think he lied to the raja about the eagle?
• Buddhi-Mati thought the true story was more wonderful than the lie. Do you agree?

More stories like this

• The Cat, the Mouse, the Lizard, and the Owl — another tale from Hindu Tales from the Sanskrit
• The King Who Would See Paradise — another tale about a king and the price of his choices
• The Brahmarakshas And The Hair — another story where a clever wife saves her husband