Bindesh Kumar Jha
Huna stood at the door and called out to his wife.
“Hey, come outside and take this.”
“What is it? Wow, fish! Hura has been asking for this for days,” she said, surprised.
“Yes, it was the last portion left, so the woman gave it to me at half price,” Huna explained.
“Should we make it for lunch or dinner?” his wife asked.
“Lunch,” Huna decided.
His wife went inside to prepare the meal. Within an hour, Hura, their six-year-old son, came home from school and hugged his father tightly.
“Guess what’s for lunch,” Huna teased.
“Ice cream?” Hura guessed excitedly.
“Try to smell it,” Huna suggested.
Hura sniffed the air. “Fish curry!”
“How did you know?”
“From the smell of the curry!”
“But I haven’t even started cooking it yet,” his wife said from inside.
“Why are you delaying?” Huna asked.
“The knife is blunt,” she replied.
“I’ll sharpen it,” Huna offered.
“No, just buy a new one, please,” she insisted.
Huna agreed and left to get a new knife.
Meanwhile, Hura found the old, blunt knife lying nearby. He slipped it into his pocket, ran to the small garden, and began cutting the grass. His little hands worked quickly as he thought, Maa has been asking Papa to cut the grass, but he’s always busy. I’ll do it for them, and they won’t argue anymore. This grass can also feed the cow. She’ll have delicious food too!
After gathering all the grass in a neat pile, Hura went back inside. As he entered, he tripped, and the knife slipped, cutting his finger. He screamed in pain.
Huna, hearing his cries, rushed in and found his son bleeding. He quickly tore a piece of cloth from his dhoti and tied it around Hura’s finger.
“How did this happen?” Huna asked, though the knife lying nearby told the whole story.
“I’ve told you so many times not to touch sharp objects!” Huna scolded.
Hura lay on the bed, tears streaming down his face.
His mother came in, saw the situation, and slapped him gently. “How many times have I told you not to touch dangerous things like knives? Promise me you’ll never do this again!”
“I promise,” Hura whispered through his tears.
That day, the family ate lunch together happily.
The next morning, Huna noticed bloodstains on the ground where Hura had fallen. The sight of his son’s blood disturbed him. He ordered his wife to clean it, but she argued, “It’ll wash away on its own.”
Unconvinced, Huna took matters into his own hands. He fetched a small iron tool and began digging the soil to remove the stained earth. While doing so, he struck something hard—a gold coin!
Initially, he couldn’t believe it, but upon closer inspection, he confirmed its authenticity.
“Hey, lazy lady! Come here!” Huna called excitedly.
“What happened? Oh, wow! A gold coin!”
“Yes, I found it here,” Huna said, pointing to the spot.
“Let’s dig more!” he said eagerly, but despite digging a large hole, he found nothing else. Disappointed, he stopped.
“Don’t be upset,” his wife said. “Maybe it was just one coin.”
Huna took the coin to a jeweler, who confirmed its high quality and paid him a generous amount. From that day, Huna began digging in the garden, claiming it was for planting trees. His wife, however, knew the real reason. Months passed, but he found nothing more.
One day, Hura’s wound worsened. His wife noticed and informed Huna. “It’s probably because of the heat,” Huna said. He pressed the wound gently, trying to remove any harmful debris.
His wife cleaned the area with antiseptic. “Are you feeling better?” Huna asked his son.
“Will I be okay? I want to go outside and play,” Hura said.
“Yes, my son,” Huna reassured him. “Let’s go play together.”
Father and son spent quality time together, laughing and enjoying each other’s company.
While they played, Huna’s wife noticed more bloodstains on the ground. As she cleaned, her hand struck something hard. It was another gold coin! She screamed in surprise.
Huna rushed inside. “What happened?”
“I found another gold coin!” she exclaimed.
“Where?” Huna asked eagerly.
She pointed to the bloodstained area, dancing with excitement.
Huna immediately understood. The coins were appearing where Hura’s blood had fallen. Pretending to comfort his son, he pressed the wound again to draw more blood. Hura cried in pain, but Huna reassured him, “Calm down, my hero.”
Once Hura ran inside, Huna dug the ground where the blood had fallen and found another coin. He slipped it into his pocket, his greed growing.
That night, Huna couldn’t sleep. His wife woke up for water and found him awake, staring at the ceiling and smiling.
“Are you still awake?” she asked.
“I can’t sleep,” he admitted.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she said.
Huna’s smile faded. “What do you know?”
“You’re thinking about the gold coins. We should use them for Hura’s education. Education can multiply these coins into a hundredfold,” she said, before falling asleep.
The next morning, Huna told his wife, “I had a dream that your sister is in danger. You should go check on her.”
Worried, his wife left immediately.
By evening, she returned and said, “My sister is fine, but she’s in debt. I want to give her some of the money we earned from the gold coin.”
Huna agreed, but when she asked about Hura, he replied, “He hasn’t come back from school yet.”
Days turned into months, and Hura never returned.
One year later, a knock came at the door. Huna opened it but found no one—just a gold coin on the doorstep. He stepped outside, finding another coin a few steps ahead. As he followed the trail of coins into the forest, they suddenly turned red.
Huna was never seen again.
Bindesh Kumar Jha
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