King Vikram and Betal

 King Vikram and Betal

A hermit came to Vikram’s court, a king of fearless might,

And offered him a simple fruit, a humble, daily sight.

The just king, thinking of his realm and all beneath his care,

Declared the gift belonged to all and placed it with great care.

Day after day, the sage returned, this ritual to repeat,
Until he asked to see the fruits, now rotting and complete.

The king then cut one open, and a brilliant gem was found,
A priceless, gleaming treasure from within the earthly mound.

The hermit spoke of occult arts and promised greater wealth,
If Vikram would perform a task to bolster kingdom’s health.

To fetch a corpse from distant woods where Krishna’s waters flow,
From a lonely Peepal tree where darkest shadows grow.

And so the king on a moonless night did venture to the wood,
And found the body hanging where the haunted tree once stood.
He placed it on his shoulder to begin the lengthy trek,
When from the corpse a voice did speak, the ghostly soul of Betal.

“I’ll tell a tale to pass the time,” the clever ghost then said,
“But you must not utter a word until our path is sped.
And within my story’s fold, a puzzle you must solve,
Or else your royal head, O King, I promise will dissolve.”

So, Vikram walked in silent thought, beneath the starless dome,
As Betal wove a tangled web of love and terror home.
A test of wisdom, will, and truth on that dark path began,
The legendary dialogue of the king and the ghost, Betal.