Sudama and the Handful of Rice

Sudama and Krishna had studied together as boys in the ashram of Sage Sandipani. They gathered firewood together and got drenched in the same rain.

Then life separated them. Krishna became king of Dwarka. Sudama stayed in his village — a brahmin, learned, and desperately poor. There were days when no fire was lit in his kitchen.

One day his wife Sushila said, "You say the lord of Dwarka is your friend. Go once and meet him. Don't ask for anything — just meet him."

Sudama agreed, then hesitated. How does one arrive at a friend's house empty-handed? There was nothing in the house worth giving. His wife borrowed a little beaten rice from a neighbour and tied it in a scrap of cloth.

At Dwarka, Sudama stopped at the gate. Palaces of gold, guards at the door — and himself, in a torn dhoti and broken sandals.

The gatekeeper carried in word that a brahmin named Sudama had come.

Krishna rose from his throne and ran out barefoot. He embraced his friend at the gate, led him in by the hand, seated him on his own seat, and washed his blistered feet with his own hands.

They talked, and the old days came back. But Sudama kept the little bundle hidden behind him.

Krishna saw it. "Your wife has sent something for me and you are hiding it?" He pulled the bundle away, ate one handful of the rice, reached for a second — and Rukmini caught his wrist. "That is enough. No more."

Sudama went home. All the way he kept remembering that he had never once mentioned his poverty. What would he tell his wife?

He reached the village and found a mansion where the hut had stood, and Sushila at the door.

Krishna had asked nothing. Sudama had asked nothing.

Moral: Friendship is not weighed on a scale. Give what you have, with love — a handful of beaten rice is plenty.