In ancient times, a hawker of hand-fans used to pass by the palace of the king every
day. He used to brag about the unique and wonderful fans he sold. No one, he claimed, had ever
seen such fans before.
The king had a collection of all sorts of fans from every corner of the world and so he was curious.
He leaned over his balcony one day to have a look at this seller of unique and wonderful fans. To
him the fans looked ordinary, hardly worth a penny, but he called the man upstairs anyway. The king
asked, ”What is the uniqueness of those fans? And what is their price?”
The hawker replied, ”Your Majesty, they don’t cost much. Considering the quality of these fans, the
pr ice is very low: one hundred rupees a fan.”
The king was amazed. ”One hundred rupees! This paisa-fan, this penny-fan, is available anywhere
in the market. And you ask a hundred rupees! What is so special about these fans?”
The man said, ”The quality! Each fan is guaranteed to last one hundred years. Even in one hundred
years, it won’t spoil.”
”From the look of it, it seems impossible it can even last a week. Are you trying to cheat me? Is this
outright fraud? And with the king, too?”
The vendor answered, ”My Lord, would I dare? You know very well, sir, that I walk under your
balcony daily, selling my fans. The pr ice is one hundred rupees a fan, and I am responsible if it
doesn’t last one hundred years. Ever y day I am available in the street. And, above all, you are the
ruler of this land. How can I be safe if I cheat you?”
The fan was purchased at the asking pr ice. Although the king did not trust the hawker, he was
dying of curiosity to know what grounds the man had for making such a statement. The vendor was
ordered to present himself again on the seventh day.
The central stick came out in three days, and the fan disintegrated before the week was out.
The king was sure the seller of fans would never turn up again, but to his complete surprise the man
presented himself as he had been asked to – on time, on the seventh day.
”At your service, Your Majesty.”
The king was furious. ”You rascal! You fool! Look. There lies your fan, all broken into pieces. This
is its condition in a week, and you guaranteed it would last a hundred years! Are you mad, or just a
supercheat?”
The man replied humbly, ”With due respect, it seems My Lord does not know how to use fans. The
fan must last for one hundred years; it is guaranteed. How did you fan?”
The king said, ”My goodness. Now I will have to learn how to fan too!”
”Please don’t be angry. How did the fan come to this fate in just seven days? How did you fan?”
The king lifted the fan, showing the manner in which one fans.
The man said, ”Now I understand. You shouldn’t fan like that.”
”What other way is there?” the king asked.
The man explained, ”Hold the fan steady. Keep it steady in front of you and then move your head
to and fro. The fan will last one hundred years. You will pass away but the fan will remain intact.
Nothing is wrong with the fan; the way you fan is wrong. You keep the fan steady and move your
head. Where is my fan at fault? The fault is yours, not that of my fan.”
