The Brahman Priest Who Became an Amildar

In the land of Karnataka there once ruled a famous king named Chamunda. His household priest, Gundappa, knew every ritual by heart and performed them all perfectly.

One day, as the king sat chewing betel leaves, he said to Gundappa, “Most holy priest, I am very pleased with how faithfully you carry out your sacred duties. Ask me for anything you like, and I will give it to you.”

Gundappa was thrilled. “I have always wanted to be the Amildar of a district,” he said, “and to be in charge of lots of people. If Your Majesty would grant me that, my dream would come true.” Here an Amildar is a district revenue official serving the king.

“Agreed,” said the king. As it happened, the post of Amildar of Nanjangod was empty, so the king gave it to his priest at once. Gundappa was clever at his rituals, the king thought, so surely he would do well. Before he sent him off, though, the king gave him three pieces of advice:

“First, always keep a black face. Second, when you discuss the business of the state, speak biting the ear. Third, keep everyone’s hair in your hand.”

What the king meant was this: always look stern; talk about state business quietly, close to a person’s ear; and keep everyone under your control. Gundappa listened so carefully that the king was sure he had taken the advice to heart. Smiling, the king handed him the letter of appointment, and Gundappa went home in high spirits.

Messengers were sent ahead to tell the officials of Nanjangod that their new Amildar was coming, and they all gathered at the town gate to welcome him.

Gundappa set off the very next morning, walking, with a bundle of clean clothes balanced on his head. Poor priest! Every time he saw fresh kusa grass beside the road, the sacred grass he used in his rituals, he could not resist gathering it. He would have no use for it as an Amildar, but he loved it too much to pass it by. So with his bundle on his head and his hands full of grass, he reached Nanjangod late in the afternoon.

It was very late, but none of the officials had gone home to eat. They were all still waiting at the gate. When Gundappa came along, nobody thought he was anything but a priest, for his bundle and his green grass gave him away. But since he had come along the road the Amildar would take, perhaps he had news. So the second most important official went up to him and asked whether he had seen the new Amildar on the road.

Gundappa put down his bundle and took out the letter of his appointment, holding it with a handful of grass so as not to spoil his clean clothes with his bare hands. “I am the Amildar,” he said.

Everyone was astonished that such a shabby priest had been given such an important job. But once they knew who he was, the band struck up and he was led into the town with all the proper ceremony. He had eaten nothing all day, so a grand feast was laid out for him at the house of his chief assistant. Gundappa announced that he would be at the office that evening. He gave the order so firmly that everyone thought he must be a very able man who had come dressed as a simple priest to find out what was really going on in his district. So they all hurried home, bathed, gulped down their meals and went to the office.

Meanwhile Gundappa was enjoying his dinner. He approached the meal as he would a feast offered after his priestly work. He ate and ate, while his host secretly laughed at him. When he finally got up and washed his hands, he asked for betel leaves, which his host considered improper before an offer had been made. His assistant took it as an order and brought a tray with betel leaves, nutmeg, mace, betel nut and lime.

“Where is my gift?” asked Gundappa. He expected the dakshina, a payment or gift associated with the ceremonies he usually performed. The assistant was not sure whether the new Amildar was joking. Before he could make up his mind, Gundappa asked again: “Where is my gift?”

The assistant decided that his new master was hinting at a bribe. So he brought a bag holding five hundred gold coins and set it on the tray. Gundappa had never seen such a gift in his life. He opened the bag at once, counted every coin, and tied them all up carefully in his bundle. Then he chewed his betel and swallowed every bit of the nutmeg and mace on the tray in one gulp. By now his assistant had strong doubts about the new Amildar. But the king’s order had to be obeyed. Gundappa sent him on ahead to the office and promised to follow soon.

Now Gundappa remembered the king’s three pieces of advice. The first was to keep a black face at work. He did not understand that this meant “look stern.” He thought it meant that his face should actually be black. So he went into the kitchen, asked for a lump of charcoal paste, and smeared it all over his face. Then, feeling rather embarrassed, he covered his face with a cloth and went to the office and took his seat. Every now and then he lifted the cloth to see how his officers were working, while the clerks tried hard not to laugh.

Towards the end of the evening, the assistant came up with some orders that needed signing and stood politely a little distance away. “Come nearer,” said Gundappa. The assistant came nearer. “Nearer still,” said Gundappa. Now he remembered the second piece of advice, about biting the ear when discussing state business. Once again he took the words exactly as they were said. He opened his mouth, took hold of his assistant’s ear with his teeth, and asked in a muffled voice whether all the people in the district were prosperous.

“Yes! Everyone is very prosperous!” howled the frightened assistant. But Gundappa would not let go until he had howled the answer more than twenty times. The poor man’s ear swelled up enormously. Disgusted, he left the office and set off to tell the king what his new Amildar was doing.

That left the third piece of advice: keep everyone’s hair in your hand. Night had fallen. Gundappa stayed in his seat, so all his officers had to stay in theirs too. Hour after hour went by, and still he sat there with his blackened face under the cloth, peeping out now and then to see whether they were asleep. He was waiting for his chance to get everyone’s hair into his hand. Around midnight, with no idea what he was planning, every one of them fell asleep. Gundappa got up, took a pair of scissors, and snipped off each officer’s long lock of hair. He tied the locks in a bundle, went back to his assistant’s house, where the servants gave him something to eat, and then set off for the king with his bag of gold and his bundle of hair, to show how well he had followed orders.

He reached the palace early in the morning, just a moment after his assistant. The assistant was too frightened to complain now that Gundappa was there, but everyone in the hall stared at his swollen ear.

Gundappa stood before the king with charcoal still on his face. “Most noble king,” he said, “you told me to keep a black face in my new job. See, I have not even washed it off! You told me to speak biting the ear. Please look at my assistant’s ear and tell me whether I did not obey you! And as for keeping everyone’s hair in my hand, here it is, in this bundle!”

The king had never seen such foolishness. He was deeply ashamed that, because of his choice, so many respectable men had lost their hair and a good official had been bitten on the ear. He begged the assistant’s pardon, and from then on he chose his officials very carefully. As for Gundappa, he lost not only his post as Amildar but his post as priest too, and lost the benefits that had accompanied those appointments.

Where this tale comes from

This comic tale comes from Tales of the Sun; or, Folklore of Southern India (1890), by Pandit S. M. Natesa Sastri and Mrs. Howard Kingscote. It is set in Karnataka, and in the original book the king’s three sayings are printed in Kannada as well as in English.

Sastri explains that an Amildar was a revenue officer in charge of a district. Stories about foolish people who follow good advice word for word, and get it completely wrong, are popular all over the world.

Read the original: Natesa Sastri and Mrs. Howard Kingscote, Tales of the Sun (Project Gutenberg #37002)

Reading guidance: For ages 9–12 with an adult. The satire includes a prolonged ear bite and hair cut from sleeping officials without their consent.

A closer reading

Gundappa keeps using the expectations of his former role: ritual grass, a ceremonial gift and remembered words treated as exact instructions. The assistant interprets the same request through a different office and assumes a bribe is being demanded. Their crossed meanings begin before the three famous sayings are acted out.

The king’s error is not appointing someone of the wrong birth; it is treating skill in one field as proof of competence in another without preparation. His metaphors also make domination sound like good administration. The exhausted officials cannot leave, and the injured assistant is too frightened to complain in Gundappa’s presence. Authority without clear communication or safe feedback magnifies the misunderstanding.

Try this with the story

Translate each of the king’s sayings into a plain instruction, then improve the instruction itself: for example, replace controlling everyone with listening, setting clear responsibilities and checking work. Explain which harm each clearer instruction could prevent.

Questions to ask

• What did the king really mean by each of his three pieces of advice?
• Why did the officials at first think Gundappa was a very clever man?
• What should the king have done differently?

You may also like

• The Brahmarakshas And The Hair — another tale from Tales of the Sun
• The Beggar And The Five Muffins — another South Indian tale about a very foolish choice
• Nasreddin Hodja and the Smell of Soup — another funny story set in a courtroom and an official’s world