From Punjabi Folklore
Once upon a time there was a potter, who owned thirty or forty donkeys. Having loaded them up with pots one day, he was going his rounds, when he found a precious stone, which he tied round his largest donkey’s neck. After a time he came to a ferry, and as he was crossing over, the ferryman saw the stone and admired it. “What a pretty stone,” said he. “Give it to me, and your donkey may go over free!”
“All right,” said the potter, and he handed over the stone to the ferryman, who tied it to his stern oar.
After a time, a traveller wanted to cross. He was by trade a lapidary, and seeing the stone he said to himself, “That stone is simply a priceless ruby!” So he said to the boatman, “Will you take five rupees for your stone?”
“You can have it for ten,” answered the boatman, having no idea of its value; and so the lapidary became the possessor of the ruby.
Having paid the money, and received the stone, he wrapped it most carefully in several soft napkins, and then laid it within several jewel cases, which he placed under lock and key in the safest place in his shop.
Some time after, the King, wanting a ruby, sent his minister to look for one. Without delay they went straight to the lapidary, who at first denied having any such stone as the King would care to possess. “If I had,” said he, “you would seize it, and give me but a small sum for it.”
“Never fear,” said the minister. “As you have such a ruby, show it to us!” But first, how much do you ask for it?”
“Not less than twenty thousand rupees,” answered the lapidary.
“Well, bring it, and show it!” said the minister.
So he brought out his boxes, which he proceeded to open. But, alas, he found his precious ruby shivered to atoms!” “Ah, my kismet, my kismet, my ruby, my ruby!” cried he.
So the minister went away. And the lapidary, looking at the shattered ruby, began to upbraid it. But the ruby murmured, “Can you wonder that I am broken? First I was found by a potter and tied round the neck of a donkey, but he, poor man, was a simple villager. Then I was owned by a boatman who bound me to an oar, but he too was ignorant, and knew no better. But you! You offered five rupees for me, and gave ten! And even now, when you had the chance of proclaiming my true value, what did you do? You asked a wretched twenty thousand rupees for me! These slights were too much – my heart broke, and now I am worthless!”
So with people really worthy of honour. They are never appreciated by their fellow-men, until, with broken hearts, they lie in their graves!
Source:
Romantic Tales From The Panjab With Indian Nights’ Entertainment, Charles Swynnerton, 1908
Kotharian Lightning 