Once, a merchant dealing in horses came to Poona, bringing with him two Arab
mares. They were handsome animals, glossy white, stately and swift of foot. Moreover,they were as alike as two peas in a pod. One rarely saw such fine mares in that part of
the country, and many people wanted to buy them.
“Ask your price,” the merchant was told by many buyers. No price was too high,
such were the mares. But they were not for sale. They were to be presented to the
ruler Baji Rao Peshwa. But on one condition!
The two mares were, in reality, mother and filly. But there was not a sign, not a trace,
to point out which was which.
“I ask a simple question”, said the merchant. “Which of the two mares is the mother?
Which the daughter?”
It was almost impossible to find out. The same height, the same gait, the same swiftness
marked the two.
“I have heard a lot about the Poona Durbar,” smiled the man. “I have now come to
find out for myself. If you can tell the difference between my mares I will hand them
over to you. I will become your admirer for life.”
All eyes turned to Nana, the Peshwa’s adopted son. Here was a difficult problem, and
even Nana was puzzled. But the Poona Durbar’s reputation was at stake. For indeed
the merchant had said that if the problem remained unsolved, he would tell everyone
about it.
Nana asked for a few days to think over the problem. The challenge was accepted!
Those were the days of the Monsoon. The rivers had over-flowed their banks. One
wet afternoon, Nana called for the mares, and procession set out towards the Mutha
river. The level of the river had risen, and the usually slow moving water now flowed
furiously, with great force.
“Drive the mares into the water,” cried Nana. “Let them reach the other bank..”
The poor creatures were forced into the angry river. They moved towards the other
bank. They bobbed up and down, swimming shoulder to shoulder in the stormy water.
When they reached the middle of the river the water was flowing dangerously fast.
For a moment the mares wavered. Those on the banks watched tensely. Then suddenly,
one mare plunged forward and took the lead. The other followed close behind.
“There,” cried Nana. “The one in front is the mother. Being the elder and the more
experienced, she leads the way. She faces danger herself like all good mothers. Look!
They have reached the other bank safely.”
Everyone looked at the merchant. “Well?” asked the Peshwa, “is Nana right?”
“Your Highness,” said the merchant, “the noble animals are now yours”.
Imagining yourself to be Nana Fadnavis, make an entry in your
diary about how you saved the reputation of Poona Durbar.
Answers
Imagine yourself to be Nana find it is Mein can increase your there have a featured in other banks ft everyone merchant well as the Peshwa is none are right I hope you understand
Answer:
Once, a merchant dealing in horses came to Poona, bringing with him two Arab
mares. They were handsome animals, glossy white, stately and swift of foot. Moreover,they were as alike as two peas in a pod. One rarely saw such fine mares in that part of
the country, and many people wanted to buy them.
“Ask your price,” the merchant was told by many buyers. No price was too high,
such were the mares. But they were not for sale. They were to be presented to the
ruler Baji Rao Peshwa. But on one condition!
The two mares were, in reality, mother and filly. But there was not a sign, not a trace,
to point out which was which.
“I ask a simple question”, said the merchant. “Which of the two mares is the mother?
Which the daughter?”
It was almost impossible to find out. The same height, the same gait, the same swiftness
marked the two.
“I have heard a lot about the Poona Durbar,” smiled the man. “I have now come to
find out for myself. If you can tell the difference between my mares I will hand them
over to you. I will become your admirer for life.”
All eyes turned to Nana, the Peshwa’s adopted son. Here was a difficult problem, and
even Nana was puzzled. But the Poona Durbar’s reputation was at stake. For indeed
the merchant had said that if the problem remained unsolved, he would tell everyone
about it.
Nana asked for a few days to think over the problem. The challenge was accepted!
Those were the days of the Monsoon. The rivers had over-flowed their banks. One
wet afternoon, Nana called for the mares, and procession set out towards the Mutha
river. The level of the river had risen, and the usually slow moving water now flowed
furiously, with great force.
“Drive the mares into the water,” cried Nana. “Let them reach the other bank..”
The poor creatures were forced into the angry river. They moved towards the other
bank. They bobbed up and down, swimming shoulder to shoulder in the stormy water.
When they reached the middle of the river the water was flowing dangerously fast.
For a moment the mares wavered. Those on the banks watched tensely. Then suddenly,
one mare plunged forward and took the lead. The other followed close behind.
“There,” cried Nana. “The one in front is the mother. Being the elder and the more
experienced, she leads the way. She faces danger herself like all good mothers. Look!
They have reached the other bank safely.”
Everyone looked at the merchant. “Well?” asked the Peshwa, “is Nana right?”
“Your Highness,” said the merchant, “the noble animals are now yours”.
Imagining yourself to be Nana Fadnavis, make an entry in your
diary about how you saved the reputation of Poona Durbar.