The Unrepentant Rogue

THE old Thakur was on his deathbed. All through his life he had been a notorious mischief-monger, quarrelling with all and sundry and making life miserable for those around him. As his life ebbed away, he sent messages to half a dozen of his most powerful enemies, pleading with them to come to his bedside to forgive him so that he could die in peace.

So they came, all his enemies, pleased that their adversary had at last been humbled. The Thakur cast a remorseful eye on each of them and said in a trembling voice, "Gentlemen, it is exceedingly kind of you to have come at the request of this wretch you see lying in front of you. I have wronged you all and I must atone for it."

His visitors were greatly moved. They said, "Please, Thakur saheb, forget whatever has happened. We all make mistakes. We hold no grudge against you."

"You are great and noble souls," quavered the old man, his eyes brimming with tears. "But unless I receive some token punishment from you I will not be convinced that you've forgiven me."

"What is it that you want us to do?" asked one of the men.

The Thakur took out a long sharp nail and a hammer from under his pillow.

"Do not refuse a dying man," he pleaded. "I want each of you to place the point of the nail against my throat and tap it lightly. Hurry, I can feel the end approaching."

Not wanting to refuse his dying wish, the men lined up to administer the token punishment. The first three men did it quickly and awkwardly, but with so much care that the nail did not even pierce the skin. The four th man, however, was so overcome with emotion that he hit the nail harder than he had intended to. The nail pierced the skin and drew blood. This was exactly what the wily Thakur had hoped would happen.

"They've killed me.... murderers!" he screamed with all the strength he could summon, and died.

The six men were arrested on charges of conspiracy to murder and sentenced to long terms in prison.