Buddhidhan (Conclusion) The false utterances of the influential and important are often taken as true, while the honest words of the less important are dismissed as false. Kindly Dayashankar had laughed at the anger of the weak, ailing, impoverished Buddhidhan. In time, Buddhidhan’s family, too, forgot about it. God has made the minds and hearts of people inscrutable. While those of little or no means have occasion to fathom the thoughts of the rich and powerful, the latter—intoxicated and blinded by power—fail to read the minds of the poor and the wretched. Those whose vision is thus blinded consider the deeds of the poor innately meaningless, thoughtless, foolish, insubstantial, and transient. Even if there be in the company of the blind a one-eyed man who considers a poor man’s intelligence worthy of being tested, it is only to prove himself superior to the latter. Prior to his illness, Buddhidhan used to visit the administrator, Shathrai, on occasion. Despite the insult to his mother, after his recovery, Buddhidhan resumed these visits. During gatherings, when the administrator sat surrounded by sycophants, chatting, boasting, disparaging others, seeking pleasure and pride in another’s harm, indulging in depravities, plotting schemes, turning morality on its head, dreaming foolish and vile dreams fueled by a mistaken sense of superiority and abject flattery, Buddhidhan would sit at the back among the lowliest of workers and engage his eyes, ears and mind fully to observe this world. No one ever noticed him. Eyes fixed upon

Shathrai and his son Dushtarai, Buddhidhan would stoke the rage that burned within him. Sometimes Dushtarai would look at him from the corner of his eye, his gaze disdainful and arrogant, and gesture mockingly; this would remind Buddhidhan of his wretched and lowly status. The genuflection of his subordinates gave Dushtarai a supreme sense of power and authority. In comparison, Dushtarai’s father Shathrai was a better and more intelligent individual. Not that he was incapable of behaving like his son, but that he would do so only for a reason. In as much as was possible, nothing but pure self-interest moved him. Therefore, Buddhidhan had to rarely deal with Shathrai. However, on the occasions they did meet, Shathrai had realised that Buddhidhan was sharp and intelligent, albeit not as ‘sharp’ and ‘intelligent’ as himself. This assessment was in no way likely to either benefit or harm Buddhidhan, because Shathrai was unlikely to grant or deny him any favours because of his qualities. By the same token, Buddhidhan’s status was such that he was incapable of causing any harm to the administrator. For Shathrai, he was neither a friend, nor a foe. Whatever enmity there was burned secretly within Buddhidhan’s mind. This fire had been kindled, unbeknownst to them, by both the administrator and his son. Those without ordinary virtues are incapable of discernment; they see no reason for it either. But God punishes even those who falter unknowingly, and the consequences of indiscretion—realised or unrealised, seen or unseen—inevitably take root. When these consequences become