TGT Desk
Long ago, in Tahanu, there lived a grass cutter. People called him ‘Ghansi’ because his job was to collect ‘ghans’ —grass—for the cattle and sell it to the people who needed it. He was quite poor, and lived in a small hut with his family. He went about in simple dresses, and spoke to everyone with love. He sold grass to every family that needed, it and never asked whose family it was, what their caste or religion was, and what language they spoke. So, everyone loved him.
One day, Bhanubhakta Acharya, a famous poet from a Brahmin family was going about for a walk near a stream. By the time he reached there, he was completely exhausted. So, he sat on a stone under a tree. As extremely tired he was, he fell asleep in the cool shade of the tree.
After a while, Ghansi arrived. He did not notice Bhanubhakta sleeping there. Since work was his worship, we went straight into the thicket, and with his sickle, started cutting grass. While he worked, he sang a folk tune from distant hills of Tanahu. It was a tune people in the villages sang and enjoyed. Ghansi sang, as he cut and bound the grass into bundles. The singing was quiet loud, as it was a silent place, and no other human sound would be heard nearby. The stream crooned in its own accord, and Ghansi’s song, mixed with the low murmur of the stream was a tune sweet to the ear.
When he sang even louder, Bhanubhakta woke up. He wanted to talk with the man. He saw that he was a simple man in simple clothes, his hands all smitten by cut marks and his feet tanned by repeated walking in the wilderness. Still, his face showed a glow of happiness, and there was no regret for having to do a work as tedious and troublesome as cutting grass every day, binding into bundles, carrying to different households, and selling for a low price. So, he asked, “What do you do with this grass, brother?”
“I sell it and earn money.”
“What do you do with the money?”
“I manage my family expenses first. I have sons and daughters to care for. I send them to school. I also have my wife and aged parents.”
“That’s great,” said Bhanubhakta, who still thought, it was something everyone did. So, there was nothing so special in Ghansi’s words.
“I also have other things to do with my saving,” said Ghansi.
“Saving?” said Bhanubhakta, quiet amazed. How could a grass cutter save from his meager earning !
“Yes. I save money, bit by bit, by compromising on my food and clothes. With my saving, I have dug up a well from which, the villagers and travelers can drink water.”
Bhanubhakta was quiet impressed. Such a simple man had done such a great thing!
“And now, I have a different plan.”
“What more do you want to do?” asked Bhanubhakta.
“I want to save more, and build a resting home for travellers. Many people travel across my village, to far-off places. I know, they don’t have a resting place there, and that is a bad thing. I have saved some money already. I will add to it, and get the resting home built.”
“But why do you want to do it all, Brother Ghansi?” asked Bhanubhakta.
“This work will make my name immortal after my death. What is there to receive after death? I will work very hard, and achieve this dream at all cost.”
Bhanubhakta was deeply moved by Ghansi’s words. Though he was poor, Ghansi worked for the welfare of others. He asked, “Brother Ghansi. You are great!”
“ Oh, no! That’s a service to others. That will also give me some name, you know!”
O, how simple a life he lived, and how high he thought. Bhanubhakta was deeply touched. So, he also started thinking that he would do something great for his society. Before leaving the spot, he wrote these verses:
Bharjanma ghaanstira man diyi dhan kamayo
Naam kyei rahos pachhi bhanera kuwa khanayo
Ghansi daridra gharako tara buddhi kasto
Ma Bhanubhakta dhani bhaikana aaja yasto!
The verses mean: “He gathered fodder all his life, and earned a little. With it, he got a well dug up, hoping it would give him some fame. Though a poor man he was, how benevolent were his thoughts! Fie on me, Bhanubhakta; I did nothing, though a rich man I am!”
With Ghansi’s inspiration, Bhanubhakta translated Sanskrit Ramayan into Nepali, and with it, his name also became immortal.