In a peaceful valley lived a hardworking farmer named Arul. He was proud of his lush green fields and the golden crops that grew there. Arul had worked for years to build this wealth, and he felt secure in his prosperity.
However, the kingdom was ruled by a greedy King who cared little for his people. The King’s officers were constantly looking for ways to seize more gold and grain through unfair taxes.
One year, a terrible drought struck the valley. Arul’s crops withered away, leaving his granaries empty. Instead of helping the struggling farmers, the King’s tax collector arrived at Arul’s door. 'Your land is vast and valuable,' the collector demanded. 'You must pay double the usual tax, regardless of your harvest.'
Arul sat by his dry field, feeling a heavy weight in his heart. He looked at his land, which he once loved, and realized it had become a source of constant fear. 'If I were poor, I would only worry about food,' Arul sighed to his wife, Meera. 'But because I have this land, I must constantly fight a cruel ruler to keep it. This wealth brings me more sorrow than poverty ever could.'
Arul realized that under an unjust ruler, even the greatest riches become a curse that steals one's peace.
