The Miraculous Festival of Lights: A Story by Lakshmi Ajoy

In a small village, lived an old, sagacious fakir. No one could actually say if he was a Hindu or a Muslim.
His demeanor was unprejudiced, his behavior all-inclusive and his acceptance, encompassing. A nimbus of power played around him; brighter than lightening.
While his appearance was simply extraordinary and magnetic, his presence had a mystic charm that endeared him to all.
He lived in a small rustic shanty in the centre of the hamlet. Many villagers often paid him a visit and offered him a coin or two, sometimes a morsel of food or some simple offerings.
The fakir neither demanded nor hoarded. Whatever was accumulated as collection was distributed fairly to the needy or for noble causes the very same day.
He was also occasionally seen seeking alms at the house of the village folks. However, while he appeared simple, his powers were preternatural.
As it was the festival of lights, the wise fakir desired to light his simple home with some oil lamps. He has a few earthen lamps and wicks in his possession.
He decided to seek some oil from a local shopkeeper.
The fakir called out, “Oh wealthy man! Do offer this meagre old fakir a few ounce of oil. May our homes be lit with the gracious generosity of your offerings.”
This shopkeeper was a great miser. Howbeit, he could not refuse the fakir.
He responded with a humble, “Ji Baba! I shall give you whatever I can.”
Instead of lending oil, he filled the empty can that contained a few drops of oil with plain water.
The fakir was all-pervasive. He offered a small token from his alms collection and returned home with a pansophical smile.
He simply returned home, placed dry wicks on the earthen lamps and filled them with the water given by the shopkeeper.
The village children gathered around to help the fakir with placing the lamps on all the corners of his humble abode.
Then, using a matchstick, the fakir merely lit the lamps.
And behold! Miracle of miracles. Every single lamp glowed bright and beautiful all night through.
Word had spread about the shopkeeper swindling the fakir with water instead of oil.
The entire village stood flabbergasted at the mysterious marvel of the seer.
The shopkeeper too, heard of the miracle and rushed to witness the scene. He fell at the old fakir’s feet seeking forgiveness.
The fakir wholeheartedly offered his remission and the entire village witnessed the most spectacular celebration of Diwali that night.
The shopkeeper vowed never to cozen anyone else all his life.