Shara was sitting under a tree, his eyes on the ground, looking idly at a tiny plant, bent and bruised by the numerous people and animals that had trampled upon it. Around him, people were busily going to and fro, some trying to sell and others to buy what village folk from nearby hamlets had brought to the market.

A little distance away, a group of boys were engrossed in a game of marbles. They had dug little holes in the ground and were trying to knock marbles into them. Each time one of them knocked another’s marble into the hole he would win the marble from its owner. Shara had lost all his marbles to the boys.

They had taunted him when Shara first showed them his beautiful marbles and forced him to join them in their game. A trader from far away had gifted them to Shara in gratitude for Shara’s help. Shara had never seen marbles as beautiful as those and though he had never played marbles with the boys he joined them to show that he was not afraid.

“Shara, you don’t know how to play with them. You will lose them to us,” said one.

“If you have the courage, come and play with us and then see who they belong to,” said another.

“You’re a coward, Shara! You will never have the courage to play with those,” said yet another boy.

“Hello,” said a man’s voice.

Shara looked up through his large, saddened eyes and saw a tall man with a big face looking down at him. He had long hair and a beard that reached down to his chest.

“Hello,” Shara answered.

“I know why you’re sad. It’s because you’ve lost your marbles. Here, come with me,” said the man, offering Shara his hand.

“Do you have marbles like those? Will you give me some?” Shara’s eyes lit up in hope as he took the man’s hand and pulled himself up.

“I could, but that’s not why I want you to come with me,” the man replied, starting to walk away from the market.

Shara looked confused, his eyes losing the gleam they had revealed moments ago. He hesitated and then decided to follow the kind-looking man, quickly matching his long slow strides with his small, fast pace.

They walked in silence for a while and Shara noticed that they were headed out of the village with its small stone and mud houses. “You see that hill over there? That is where we are going,” the man said, as if reading Shara’s mind.

“But no one goes there,” Shara said, alarm ringing in his voice, “there are evil things there. If anyone goes there the evil catches him and causes him to suffer.”

“Hmmm….we’ll find out what is there. Let’s go and see for ourselves,” the man answered. “Don’t you want to know my name?”

Shara nodded his little head.

“You can call me Jumba,” the man said, “…where I come from, it means a friend, a good friend. Do you think I can be a good friend?” the man’s eyes twinkled as he looked at Shara. In reply Shara nodded again. He was thinking about the marbles that he had owned for just a day before the boys took them away from him.

As they walked into the desert, Shara saw a wild rabbit, its fur shining in the afternoon sun, dart from between Jumba’s legs and wondered why the rabbit came so close. Whenever he wanted to play with them and pet them they would scamper away from him. Suddenly, Jumba turned to Shara and asked, “do you want to play with the rabbit?”

“Yes, please! I love rabbits,” Shara said, his voice excited.

Jumba stopped and let out a strange low sound, as though calling to the rabbits in a language they understood. They appeared suddenly from nowhere and flocked around Jumba’s legs. Shara counted…four, five, six.and screamed in delight…”Look Jumba, they’re trying to climb up your legs.”

Jumba knelt down and picked one up, the smallest, and ran his fingers down the rabbit’s head and neck. Reaching deep into the pocket of the gown he was wearing, he fished out a radish and put the rabbit down with it, letting it sniff at it before it started gnawing into its fresh and juicy white flesh.

Shara was delighted and wanted to pick up the small rabbit and cradle it in his arm as Jumba had done. Jumba waited as Shara reached out to the rabbit. It sniffed and backed a little at Shara’s approach but sensing no danger, continued gnawing into the radish. Shara, noticed the rabbit’s interest in its radish and decided against disturbing it any more.

“Come, let’s go,” said Jumba as the rabbit finished its meal.

They walked on for about forty minutes until they came to the foot of the hill. On the way, Shara noticed how other wild animals would come near Jumba and he would call out to them softly, speaking a language that made no sense to Shara.

As thy began climbing the hill, Jumba hauled Shara up on his shoulders and sat him there, saying that way he would not be tired and could also see far into the distance. “Tell me if you see any evil beings,” Jumba said, a smile upon his face. The path was steep, but Jumba climbed easily, his breath measured and even. Shara sat wordlessly, looking out to see if he could spot any evil creatures and to warn Jumba if he did. Jumba hummed under his breath as he carried Shara up the hill.

Soon, Shara found himself at the top of the hill. He felt relieved that he hadn’t seen any evil creatures along the way. Jumba lowered him onto a boulder from where Shara could gaze out in all directions.

“Why are we here?” Shara asked, bewildered at the sights he could see from his position.

“To see,” Jumba smiled.

“But, there are no marbles here,” Shara had hoped his journey would yield him a bagful of marbles, though Jumba had not made any such promise.

“Marbles!” Jumba laughed, “so that’s why you’ve come with me!”

Shara nodded.

“Well, that’s not a problem. But, that’s not why we’re here,” Jumba answered, his voice grave.

Shara looked downcast, thinking his journey had been a waste.

“See,” Jumba pointed, showing Shara where to look, “what do you see there?”

“Marbles!” Shara screamed in delight.

‘Yes, they’re marbles…just like the ones you had.”

“Let’s go get them,” Shara shouted in glee.

“OK, but let’s sit down first and chat for a while and refresh ourselves before we go there. Don’t worry, the marbles won’t go anywhere.

Jumba dipped his hand into his pocket and fished out a small bag. Wrapped in neat little packets were sandwiches and a flask of water. Jumba handed one out to Shara and opened one for himself and started munching quietly on his, looking deep in thought.

They ate in silence. Shara enjoyed the refreshment, finding the sandwiches fresh and tasty and the water cool and invigorating.

“Shara, if you take a bagful of marbles to the village, the other boys will all ask you where you got them. If you tell them, they will all come here and take their own bagfuls. And, if they all have so many marbles no one will want another’s. And, no one will admire yours because they will have enough of their own. If you don’t tell them they will accuse you of stealing them from the traders who come to the market. So, what will you do?” Jumba asked, as they walked towards the small cave full of marbles.

Shara thought for a moment and then replied, “I won’t tell anyone. If they accuse me, it’s not a problem because the truth is that I have not stolen them from anyone. Therefore, no trader will blame me, either.”

“Fine,” said Jumba and they headed in to the cave. Shara was thrilled as he took handfuls of the beautiful marbles, pouring them into his pockets until they were so full that they tumbled out each time he moved. He decided to take only as many as he could fill his pockets with and to come back for more when he had lost them to the boys in the game of marbles.

After Shara had delighted himself playing with the marbles, picking carefully the ones he wanted most, they decided to head back to the village. On the way back, Shara chattered away excitedly. Jumba was quiet as he waited for Shara to exhaust his excitement.

“Shara, marbles don’t bring happiness,” Jumba said.

“But they do Jumba,” Shara objected. “When the kind trader gave me those marbles, it brought me a lot of happiness,” he continued.

“Yes and no,” Jumba said, “let me explain…you didn’t care for the marbles and they brought you neither happiness nor sadness until the trader gave them to you…and then, when the other boys all showed their interest in your marbles and wanted you to play with them, that’s when they brought you what you call happiness. You understood then, that you had what they all wanted and it was in your hands to give them to the others, if you so wished. Seeing that they all desired what you possessed, you were happy…and then, when you lost them all, you lost their grudging admiration or jealousy…so, you were sad.”

“Hmmm, I suppose that’s right…but even so, I am happy now that I have these marbles…and I can play with them. And, when they see how many marbles I have, they will all…” Shara stopped, realizing vaguely that he was about to say what Jumba had just said.

“Yes, go on…complete what you were saying…they will all be jealous? Right?” Jumba continued where Shara had stopped. “So, what that means is that their being jealous is what will bring you happiness, right? And, not the marbles…” Jumba said.

Shara looked confused, “maybe…but at least, I will be happy.”

“Yes…but for how long? Until the marbles last? Until they’re taken from you? Or until others have more than you? One of these things will happen soon enough and that will be the end of your happiness…” Jumba smiled at Shara, his eyes quizzing him.

“You’re right, Jumba…but…” Shara didn’t know what to say.

“But, for now at least, you have happiness…that’s right…however, the happiness that you have now can be yours for ever,” Jumba offered, his eyes twinkling in the evening light.

“How, Jumba?”

“Well, I can tell you that but first I want to know what you will do with those marbles that you have filled your pockets with. They’re so heavy they’re dragging your pants down…” Jumba laughed.

“I won’t tell you,” Shara said, delighted that for the first time he knew something that Jumba didn’t. Saying this, he ran towards the village, his hands in his pockets. As Shara ran, he kept putting his hands into the pocket and then pulling them out, counting all the time. Jumba followed but Shara ran fast and Jumba’s long strides couldn’t catch up. As Jumba entered the village, and reached the tree where he had first spoken to Shara, he noticed that Shara was already there and was waiting for him.

“Look, look,” Shara said as he pulled out the bags of his pocket, a mischievous glint in eyes.

Jumba smiled a knowing smile. Shara’s pockets were empty but his face was glowing.

Author's Note: My publishers in China wanted me to shorten this story but that was something that, I felt, couldn't be done without losing some of its flavour. Please do share your thoughts on this story and also any suggestions you might have to make it better. I plan to write a book with the same characters exploring certain ideas that are normally taken for granted. Please tell me if you think that might work.

Rajesh Kanoi (Jack)
http://www.writingup.com/blog/oneinabillion