As people grow old, it isn't only their eyesight that dims — sometimes the fading vision weaves illusions so absurd they become the stuff of village legend for years to come. Something exactly like this happened to old Khati Budhi, the eldest woman of a sprawling household in the village.
In those days, toilets inside the home were unheard of, and the open fields and ponds around the village served everyone's needs. Khati Budhi's eyesight had grown weak, so that once dusk settled, the world blurred into a hazy, uncertain canvas before her. As she did every evening, she walked down to the village pond to bathe and relieve herself.
By the time she started back, darkness had swallowed the surroundings whole. The moment she reached the edge of her courtyard, she froze — there, behind the fence, sat a large dark shape. In truth, it was nothing more than a great big langur, settled comfortably as if it owned the place. But Khati Budhi's failing eyes and her suspicious mind told her something else entirely: surely some shameless man from the village had sneaked into their yard to relieve himself without a shred of decency. Stories like this are heard the world over — people mistaking a post for a thief, a stray dog for a mongoose, lashing out at shadows their eyes can no longer trust. Khati Budhi fell prey to exactly such a trick of the dark. And when the "man" did not so much as stir at her approach, her fury climbed straight to its peak.
Boiling with rage, she began to shout: "Who do you think you are, you shameless wretch? Not an ounce of decency in you — sitting there easing yourself in front of a woman like some brazen fool!" But what would a monkey understand of any of this? It sat exactly as it had, unbothered, in its languid monkey-calm, not moving an inch. That was the last straw for Khati Budhi's patience. She marched closer, and — taking it for a man — reached out and grabbed hold of it, meaning, no doubt, to haul the intruder up and drive him off.
But even a monkey has its pride. Having endured a stream of curses in silence, it could not tolerate being suddenly seized. Without a moment's thought, it swung and landed a resounding slap clean across the old woman's cheek.
Stars exploded before her eyes and the whole world turned upside down. Struck dumb by the blow, all her anger evaporated in an instant, and she stumbled home in tears. Weeping and wailing, she told her sons and grandsons the tale of her humiliation. The family, hearing this, went up in flames with rage. In moments, the young men had grabbed sticks, staffs, and torches, and charged out toward the yard with battle cries ready on their lips.
But the clever monkey, hearing the commotion of approaching humans, had already scrambled up the nearest tree and found itself a safe perch. When the son swept his torch-beam through the dark, there was no shameless man to be found — only a scrawny, long-tailed langur sitting proudly on a branch like a conquering hero. Once the truth came to light, the family's expressions were a sight to behold. Torn between fury and embarrassment, they hurled a volley of choice curses at the monkey, flung a stone or two for good measure to salvage what pride they could, and trudged back home.
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