Question

In this story the truth about the wanderer is that he —
a.
was a lizard that had been transformed into a rich man
b.
was a wise and clever man who was also generous
c.
was a crane that protected the lands of the rich man
d.
cannot win a game invented by the rich man

Answer 1

The Little Lizard’s Sorrow


by Mai Vo-Dinh


There is in Vietnam a certain species of small lizard only three inches long with webbed feet and a short, round head. They are often seen indoors, running swiftly upside down on the ceiling or along the walls, emitting little snapping cries that sound like “Tssst . . . tssst!” Suppose that you drop an egg on the kitchen floor; the kind of sound you would make then, with the tip of your tongue between your teeth, is like the cry of these harmless, funny little lizards. Sounds of mild sorrow, of genuine shock but somehow humorous regret that seem to say, “Oh, if only I had been . . . If only I had known . . . Oh, what a pity, what a pity . . . Tssst! Tssst!”

There was once a very rich man whose house was immense and filled with treasures. His land was so extensive that, as the Vietnamese say, “Cranes fly over it with outstretched wings,” for cranes only do so over very long distances. Wealth breeding vanity, one of the rich man’s greatest pleasures was beating other rich men at a game he himself had invented. One player would announce one of his rare possessions, the other would counter the challenge by saying that he, too—if he really did—owned such a treasure. “A stable of fifty buffalos,” one man would say. The other would reply, “Yes, I also have fifty of them.” It was then his turn to announce, “I sleep in an all-teak bed encrusted with mother-of-pearl.” The first player would lose if he slept on cherry planks!
One day, a stranger came to the rich man’s house. Judging from his appearance, the gatekeeper did not doubt that the visitor was a madman. He wanted, he said, to play the famous game with the mansion’s master. Yet dressed in clothes that looked as if they had been mended hundreds of times, and wearing broken straw sandals, the stranger appeared to be anything but a wealthy man. Moreover, his face was gaunt and pale as if he had not had a good meal in days. But there was such proud, quiet dignity to the stranger that the servant did not dare shut the gates in his face. Instead, he meekly went to inform his master of the unlikely visitor’s presence. Intrigued, the man ordered that the pauper be ushered in.
Trying to conceal his curiosity and surprise, the rich man offered his visitor the very best chair and served him hot, perfumed tea.
“Well, stranger, is it true that you have deigned to come here to play a game of riches with me?” he began inquiringly.
The visitor was apparently unimpressed by the rich surroundings, giving them only a passing, casual look. Perfectly at ease, sipping his tea from the rare porcelain cup, he answered in a quiet though self-assured voice, “Yes, sir, that is if you, too, so wish.”
“Naturally, naturally,” the rich man raised his hand in a sweeping motion. “But, may I ask, with your permission, where you reside and what is your honorable occupation?”
The stranger gave a little chortle, visibly amused. “Sir, would you gain any to know about these? I came here simply to play your game; only, I have two conditions, if you are so generous as to allow them.”
“By all means! Pray, tell me what they are,” the rich man readily inquired.
The visitor sat farther back on the brocaded chair, his voice soft and confidential. “Well, here they are. A game is no fun if the winner does not win anything and the loser does not lose anything. Therefore I would suggest that if I win I would take everything in your possession—your lands, your stables, your servants, your house and everything contained in it. But if you win—” Here the stranger paused, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, full of humorous malice, “If you win, you would become the owner of everything that belongs to me.” The stranger paused again. “And what belongs to me, sir, you will have no idea of. I am one of the most fortunate men alive, sir . . . . And besides that,” he added with a knowing look, “I would remain in this house to serve you as a domestic the rest of my life.”
For a long moment the rich man sat back in silence. Another long moment went by, then the rich man spoke: “That’s agreed. But, please, tell me your other condition.”
Eyes dreamy, the stranger looked out of the window. “My second condition, sir, is not so much a condition as a request. I hope you would not mind giving me, a visitor, an edge over you. May I be allowed to ask the first question?”
The rich man thought for a long second, then said, “That is also agreed. Let’s begin.”
“Do I really understand that you have agreed to both my conditions?” the stranger asked thoughtfully.
Something in this visitor’s manner and voice hurt the rich man’s pride. He was ready to stake out his very life on this game that he himself had created. There was no way out. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, indeed I have. Now tell me, please, what do you have that I have not got?” The stranger smiled. Reaching to his feet, he took up his traveling bag, a coarse cotton square tied together by the four ends. Opening it up slowly, ceremoniously, he took out an object and handed it to his host without a word. It was an empty half of a coconut shell, old and chipped, the kind poor people use as a container to drink water from.
“A coconut-shell cup!” the rich man exclaimed. One could not know whether he was merely amused or completely shattered.
“Yes, sir, a coconut-shell cup. A chipped shell cup. I use it to drink from on my wanderings. I am a wanderer,” the visitor said quietly.
Holding the shell between his thumb and his forefinger and looking as if he had never seen such an object before, the rich man interrupted, “But, but you don’t mean that I do not have a thing like this?”
“No, sir, you have not. How could you?” the stranger replied.
Turning the residence upside down, the man and his servants discovered odds and ends of one thousand and one kinds, but they were unable to produce a drinking cup made from a coconut shell. In the servants’ quarters, however, they found a few such utensils, but they were all brand new, not chipped. One could imagine that the servants of such a wealthy man would not deign to drink from a chipped cup. Even a beggar would throw it away . . . .
“You see, sir,” the stranger said to the rich man once they were again seated across the tea table, “you see, I am a wanderer, as I have said. I am a free man. This cup here is several years old and my only possession besides these poor clothes I have on. If you do not think me too immodest, I would venture that I treasure it more than you do all your collections of fine china. But, from this day, I am the owner and lone master of all that belongs to you . . . .”

Having taken possession of the rich man’s land, houses, herds and all other treasures, the stranger began to give them away to the poor and needy people. Then, one day, taking up his old cotton bag, he left the village and no one ever saw him again.
As for the dispossessed rich man, it is believed that he died of grief and regret and was transformed into this small lizard. Curiously, one sees him scurrying about only indoors. Running up and down the walls, crossing the ceiling, staring at people and furniture, he never stops his “Tssst, tssst.” Vietnamese children, in particular, are very fond of him for he looks so harassed, so funny.
But, oh, such sorrow, such regret, such self-pity.