Here is a strange and lovely little story, the kind that feels less like a tale and more like a riddle someone is telling you slowly, watching your face to see when you understand.
It is about eight guests who came to a king’s court one day. Four of them arrived first — four women, bright as morning. And four came after — and they were something else entirely. And the trick of the story, the thing that makes it worth remembering, is what happens to the first four when the second four walk in.
Let me tell it to you the way it was told.
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One day, four women presented themselves at the gates of a certain king’s court and asked to be let in. The usher announced them, the king gave his permission, and they were shown in and seated with all courtesy. And when they were settled, the king, being a curious sort of man, asked them politely to tell him who they were.
The first of them spoke.
“I am Karm — Luck,” she said.
“And where do you live?” asked the king.
“I live in a man’s forehead,” she answered.
The king turned to the second woman. “And you?”
“I am Sharm — Modesty,” she replied. “I live in a man’s eyes.”
He turned to the third.
“I am Buddhi — Intelligence,” she said. “My home is in a man’s heart.”
And the fourth.
“I,” she said, “am Bal — Strength. And I live in a man’s whole body, from head to foot.”
The king was delighted with all four of them. Luck in the forehead, Modesty in the eyes, Intelligence in the heart, Strength through the whole body — what good company, he thought, and he settled in to talk with them, pleased with his morning.
But he did not get to enjoy their company for long.
Because presently there was a stir at the door, and the usher came to announce four more visitors — four men, this time, asking for an audience. The king, still in a generous mood, granted it, and had seats shown to them as well. And just as before, he asked them to say who they were.
The first man spoke.
“I am Honi — Fate,” he said.
“And where do you live?” asked the king.
“I live in a man’s forehead,” he answered.
The king frowned. “But that cannot be. Here is this lady beside you, Karm, who tells me she lives in a man’s forehead. How can you both live in the same place?”
“It is true that Karm lives in the forehead,” said Honi quietly. “But when I arrive — she leaves.”
A small silence went through the hall. The king turned, more slowly now, to the second man.
“I am Kaam — Desire,” he said. “I live in a man’s eyes.”
“But that is where Modesty lives,” said the king.
“Yes, your Majesty,” said Kaam. “But when I enter — she goes out.”
The king was quiet now. He asked the third man who he was.
“I am Chinta — Worry,” the man said. “And I live in a man’s heart.”
“But that,” the king protested, and his voice was lower than before, “that is the home of Intelligence.”
“Quite true,” said Chinta. “But when I move in — Buddhi leaves her home.”
And the king already knew, before he asked, what the fourth man would say. But he asked anyway.
“My name is Tap — Fever,” said the fourth. “I live in a man’s whole body, from head to foot.”
“How can that be? That is where Strength lives.”
“You are right, your Majesty,” said Tap. “But when I come in — Bal goes away.”
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And there it was. The whole shape of it, laid out plainly in front of the king.
Eight dwellers, not four. But they could never all be home at once — because each of the bright four had a shadow, and the shadow lived in the very same room, and the two could not share it. Where Luck sat in the forehead, Fate was always waiting to take the seat. Where Modesty lived in the eyes, Desire stood ready to move in. Intelligence held the heart only until Worry came knocking. And Strength filled the whole body right up until the day Fever arrived and emptied it out.
The king, the story says, was very much surprised to learn of these eight dwellers in the human body. And he spent the rest of that day in long, thoughtful conversation with all of them — the bright ones and the dark ones together — before he finally, and I imagine a little reluctantly, sent them on their way.
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I have thought about this little story many times, and what I keep coming back to is how honest it is. It would have been easy and far more comforting to tell a story where the four bright ladies simply live in us and that is that. Luck in the forehead, Strength in the body, and all is well.
But that is not how a body works, and it is not how a life works, and the old storytellers knew it. They knew that the same forehead that holds your luck also has room for your fate. That the same heart that holds your good sense also has a chair kept warm for worry. The bright guest and the dark guest live at the same address. And which one is at home, on any given day, is very often not up to us at all.
Perhaps that is the real thing the king learned that day. Not that we are full of light, and not that we are full of shadow — but that we are the house both of them keep coming back to, and that the wise thing is simply to know which guest has arrived, and to wait, with a little patience, for the turning.
More Folk Tales For You To Read
The Frog and the King — A Story About Seeing Worth in the Lowly
Why the Moon Is Loved and the Sun Is Feared
Bhagya aur Parishram — A Story About Luck and Hard Work
Which guest is home in you today? Share this quiet little riddle of a story with someone who needs to hear that the shadows always pass — and explore more folk tales on Fables n Tales.
