Wanderworld Tales: Journey Through Cultures with Every Story

The game of Snakes and Ladders was invented in India, where it was called Moksha Patam, a lesson about karma and destiny. Last week we spoke about the legends that whisper on the wind. Today, we follow one of those whispers to a place where the air itself smells of marigolds and cardamom. I first heard this story in Jaipur, the Pink City, during Diwali, the festival of lights. The market was a river of sound and color. Clay lamps, called diyas, flickered on every stall and windowsill, their little flames dancing in the warm night.

I was sipping a cup of sweet, milky chai when I saw him. A tiny rhesus macaque, no bigger than a loaf of bread, with eyes as bright and mischievous as a polished coin. His name, I later learned, was Manu. And Manu wanted a mango. Not just any mango. He wanted the king of mangoes. It sat on the stall of a merchant named Balan, a man whose scowl was as famous as his fruit. This mango was perfect—a sunset of orange and red, so fragrant you could almost taste its sweetness from across the path. But Balan guarded it like a dragon guards its gold.

He had a long bamboo stick, and he wasn't afraid to use it. Manu tried everything. He tried distracting Balan by chattering at a stray dog. He tried creating a diversion by knocking over a stack of papayas. But Balan was too quick, his eyes always snapping back to his prize. The crowd was starting to notice. A small audience of children and shoppers watched the silent battle of wits between the grumpy merchant and the clever monkey. The air grew thick with anticipation, smelling of roasting nuts and jasmine incense.

Manu sat on a nearby roof, seemingly defeated, watching Balan preen. And that’s when Manu saw it. Balan’s weakness. It wasn’t his fruit. It was his magnificent, curled mustache. He spent more time waxing and twisting it than he did anything else. Manu’s eyes lit up. He scurried along the rooftops until he was above a sleepy-looking cow decorated with painted horns. With incredible precision, he dropped a small, half-eaten banana right onto the cow’s back. The cow, startled, flicked its tail. That tail whipped through the air and caught Balan right across the face, smearing one side of his perfect mustache.

Balan let out a roar of frustration. He dropped his stick, pulling out a tiny mirror to inspect the damage. He was completely distracted. And in that moment of pure vanity, a small, furry shadow swooped down from the heavens. Manu. He snatched the mango. But he didn’t run. He climbed to the highest arch of the market gate, in full view of everyone. He held the mango high. Then, he carefully split it in two. He ate one half himself, his little face a picture of bliss. And the other half… he dropped it, perfectly, into the waiting hands of a small girl below, a girl who had been watching the whole time with wide, hungry eyes.

The crowd gasped, then erupted in laughter and applause. Even Balan, staring up with his one good curl, couldn't help but crack a smile. Under the glow of a thousand tiny lamps, a little monkey had reminded a whole market that the sweetest fruit is the one that’s shared.