Meenu and the Extra Ten Rupees

Makar Sankranti was two days away, and Meenu had saved thirty rupees for a kite. At Rahim Chacha's stall she chose a red one with a long yellow tail. It cost twenty rupees.

Rahim Chacha was busy. Six children were shouting for string, and a man wanted fifty kites for a shop. He took Meenu's thirty rupees and pressed some coins into her hand without looking.

Halfway home, Meenu opened her fist. Twenty rupees. He had given her ten too many.

Ten rupees meant a whole reel of string. Nobody had seen. Rahim Chacha would never know. Meenu walked three more steps. The kite did not feel as light as before.

She thought of Chacha counting his money at night, by the light of one bulb, and finding it short. She turned around.

"Chacha, you gave me ten rupees extra," she said, holding out the coin.

Rahim Chacha stopped in the middle of tying a knot. He looked at the coin, and then at Meenu, for a long moment.

"In forty years," he said, "many people have told me I gave them less. You are the first to tell me I gave more."

He took the coin. Then he reached up and pulled down a reel of bright green string. "This is not for the ten rupees," he said. "This is for walking back."

On Sankranti morning the red kite flew higher than any other on the street. Meenu held the green string, and it did not feel heavy at all.