Once upon a time there was a famous and respected king called Kulabanta Singh. His personality was so awesome that in his kingdom cows and tigers would drink from the same pond. Six-foot tall gate-keepers, dressed in glamorous uniforms and sporting giant moustaches, stood on guard at the palace gates. The head gatekeeper was called Kushabanta Singh. One day while keeping guard at the main gate, a gun propped against his shoulder, Kushabanta Singh spotted the palace laundryman, Chabbyulal Rajak. He was pushing a hand-cart full of bundles of clothes and, surprisingly, had shaved his head. Kushabanta Singh thought,

“What’s happened, what’s going on?
Maybe someone’s dead.
Why has the laundryman
Completely shaved his head?”

“Hey Brother Chabbyulal, why have you shaved your head?” he asked. Chabbyulal burst into tears. “Haven’t you heard?” he sobbed. “In my neighbourhood everyone’s weeping; tears are pouring from their eyes. The news must certainly be in the papers: Gandharba Singh is no longer in this earthly world. Gandharba Singh is dead.”

Kushabanta Singh had no idea who Gandharba Singh was; he had not even heard the name before. But from what he had just been told, he guessed he was not an ordinary person. “There can’t have been a braver man than he,” he thought.

“Haven’t you heard anything about this important event?” asked Chabbyulal.

“Well, I’ve been busy here since early morning doing my duty,” replied Kushabanta Singh, trying his best to hide his shameful ignorance, “so even though I heard about it, I really couldn’t do much at all.” And he thought, “There’s only one way out of this embarrassing situation.” He immediately called a barber and had his head shaved.

Gunabanta Singh, the rent-collector, was hurrying towards the palace. The water was not running in the early morning so he could not have his bath at the usual time. As a result he was now late for work. When he arrived at the palace gates he noticed that the gatekeeper had shaved his head, and thought,

“What’s happened, what’s going on?
Maybe someone’s dead.
Why has the gate-keeper
Completely shaved his head?

“Brother Kushabanta Singh,” he asked, “what’s happened Why have you shaved your head?”

“I suppose you didn’t have time to read the papers this morning,” he replied. “The country’s most beloved leader, Gandharba Singh, is no longer with us. What more could I do for such a noble person? By shaving my head I’ve paid my last respects.” Tears welled in his eyes.

The rent-collector decided he would not go to the royal court just yet. First he would have his head shaved; then he would go.

The manager, Balabanta Singh, was in a fuming rage: the rent collector was late… again. “I’ve had enough,” he thought. “I’m going to deal with Gunabanta Singh once and for all. Only then will he stop his habit of coming late.” But when he saw the bald rent-collector rushing into his office, he thought,

“What’s happened, what’s going on?
Maybe someone’s dead.
Why has the rent-collector
Completely shaved his head?”

“Hey rent-collector,” he asked, “what’s happened?”

“The biggest news of the day is the passing away of Gandharba Sirnh,” he replied. “Didn’t you read the papers? Today we’ve been shaken by a terrible catastrophe. As a government employee, you know, I can’t take the liberty of being absent from work. So I’ve paid my last respects in the only way possible – by shaving my head.”

“I’m also a government employee in mourning,” thought the manager. “Unfortunately there’s nothing more I can do either.” He went to a nearby hair-cutting salon and had his hair shaved off.

Work was going on as usual in the royal court when the manager entered the private office of the minister, Hanumanta Singh, with some urgent files.

Seeing Balabanta Singh’s shaven head the minister thought,

“What’s happened, what’s going on?
Maybe someone’s dead.
Why has the manager
Completely shaved his head?”

“Oh manager, has there been some mishap in your family?” he asked.

“Not in my family,” replied the manager, “but in my country.” The minister became attentive. “What’s happened? What’s happened? I haven’t heard anything.”

“Didn’t you listen to the radio this morning?” asked Balabanta Singh. “The biggest news of the day is the demise of the national leader, Gandharba Singh. Being a government official, how else can I pay last respects for the departed soul except by shaving my head?”

“Oh dear, dear, dear,” lamented the minister, “What a terrible thing! What a terrible thing! It’s a tragic loss, an awful catastrophe. I’ll look at your files a little later. First I’ll have my head shaved.” And he went and quickly did just that.

That day all the work in the royal court was a little delayed. Nevertheless, the minister still went to see the king, Kulabanta Singh, although a little later than usual. When the king saw him, he thought,

“What’s happened, what’s going on?
Maybe someone’s dead.
Why has the minister
Completely shaved his head?”

“Minister Hanumanta Singh,” he asked, “tell me what type of unexpected event has happened.” The king’s tone showed that he was quite concerned and deeply sympathetic. He thought that perhaps the minister’s ageing father, who had been suffering from gout for so long, had finally left his body. Or maybe his elderly mother, a long-time sufferer of asthma, had passed away.

“Your Majesty,” replied the minister, “didn’t you watch television this morning? It’s the day’s big news.”

“What’s happened, Hanumanta Singh?” asked the king anxiously. “What’s the news? Tell me quickly, I can’t wait any longer.”

The minister replied, “The country’s most beloved leader, respected by all, Gandharba Singh the Great, is no longer with us. He will no longer be here to stand by our side in times of prosperity or in times of adversity. He has gone to the world of immortality.”

“What a terrible disaster!” lamented the king. “and the public relations department didn’t tell me anything. Anyway, let me do my first duty.” The king’s personal barber, Darbarilal, came and shaved his head. “What else should we do to honour him?” asked the king.

“We could declare a week’s state mourning,” suggested the minister.

“What an excellent idea! What a wonderful proposal!” exclaimed the king. “Before making a public declaration, however,” he continued after a pause, “I’d better go and have a word with the queen in her private chamber. You see, during the period of mourning she won’t be able to wear her red-bordered sari, she’ll have to wear a black-bordered one. It would be prudent to inform her about this before putting my signature on the official declaration.”

The king hurried into the queen’s chamber. Queen Buddhimatii Devii was sitting with her back to the sun rolling lamp wicks and singing to herself,

“Oh my friend Lalita
Hold the [[lamp, oh,]] please
So I can walk along
Safely and with ease.”

Surprised to see the king rush in at an odd hour, and even more surprised by his bald head, Queen Buddhimatii Devii thought,

“What’s happened, what’s going on?
Maybe someone’s dead.
Why has the king
Completely shaved his head?”

“Dear king, what’s happened?” she asked. “Why have you shaved your head?”

“All you seem to care about is rolling your lamp wicks,” said the king. “Haven’t you heard about the greatest disaster to befall our country? What’s the use of having a television set if you never watch it? Not only was he the glory of our country,” he continued, “but Gandharba Singh was the glory of the entire world. Now he’s no longer on the earth. Causing us to weep, immersing us in a sea of grief, he has gone to the divine world.”

“That’s very sad, my dear,” said the queen.

“Yes,” he continued, “that’s why we’ve decided to go into state mourning for a week.”

“What should I do?” asked the queen. “I’ll do whatever is necessary.”

“During the week of mourning,” said the king, “you should wear a black-bordered sari instead of a red-bordered one.”

“Of course,” she agreed. “Of course I will.”

“My dear,” added the king, “it would be even better if you shaved your head like the rest of us.”

The queen affectionately stroked her Albert-style hair-bun. “Will I have to shave my whole head or can I keep my bun?”

“People will praise you more if you shave off both your hair and your bun,” said the king.

The queen apprehended danger. Would such a precious bun really have to be shaved off? “Since the king has given the order,” she said, “I will have to get my bun shaved off. Before that, however, I’d like to hear a brief biography of Gandharba Singh.”

“Gandharba Singh the Great!” exclaimed the king. “Gandharba Singh the most famous! What else is there to know? What more do you want?”

“Dear king, you are a very learned man,” said the queen. “You have an MA in three subjects whereas I only have one MA, in psychology. My shallow knowledge can hardly be compared to your profound learning, so please let me know the biography of Gandharba Singh.”

The king was in a fix. “I… I… I don’t know all the minor details,” he stammered. “I can’t tell you anything. The minister, Hanumanta Singh, told me.”

“Call Hanumanta Singh.”

Hanumanta Singh came in. He was also in a fix. “I… I… I don’t know all the details,” he stammered. “The manager, Balabanta Singh, told me.”

Balabanta Singh came in. He was also in a fix and stammered, “I… I… I don’t know all the details. The rent-collector, Gunabanta Singh, told me.”

Gunabanta Singh came in. He was also in a fix and stammered, “I… I… I don’t know all the details. The gate-keeper, Khushabanta Singh, told me.”

Khushabanta Singh came in. He was also in a fix and stammered, “I… I… I don’t know all the details. The laundryman, Chabbyulal, told me.”

“Bring Chabbyulal here,” ordered the king.

The king’s guards brought Chabbyulal to the palace with hands bound. Chabbyulal stood in front of the king and burst into tears.

“Chabbyulal,” said the king, “Gandharba Singh’s demise is a distressing event not only for the country, but for the whole world. We are overwhelmed with grief. If you know anything about him, please tell us.”

Replied Chabbyulal, “Right now all the people in my neighbourhood are weeping day and night. Due to Gandharba Singh’s untimely death their chests are bursting with grief. We could never have imagined that Gandharba Singh would pass away.”

“I understand,” consoled the king. “We are also grief-stricken. Gandharba Singh has gone leaving us in an ocean of sorrow. Out of grief we have shaved our heads. We are ready to shave them a thousand times if necessary – but I want to know who he was exactly.”

“Your Majesty,” replied Chabbyulal, “it is indeed a great loss. No loss can be greater than this. What else can I tell you about him? Gandharba Singh was the name of my dearest, my most beloved donkey. In his absence I’ve been pulling my laundry cart around myself today.”