Once upon a time, in a small, dusty village nestled amidst rolling hills and endless fields, there lived a simple potter named Khamar. He was a man of modest means, spending his days crafting beautiful earthen pots and vessels with skilled hands. His life was ordinary, marked by the rhythms of the seasons and the demands of his craft. Yet, despite his hard work, Khamar was a man of limited education, unaware of the broader world beyond his village and the true value of the things it contained.
One day, as Khamar made his way to the market to sell his freshly baked pottery, something unusual happened. As he walked along the dirt road, he stumbled upon a small, glimmering object lying half-buried in the dust. Curious, he bent down and picked it up, brushing off the dirt to reveal a clear, sparkling stone. It was unlike anything Khamar had ever seen, shimmering with a brilliance that caught the sunlight in a thousand dazzling facets.
Khamar, however, was an uneducated man. To him, the stone was nothing more than a pretty piece of glass—a trinket, perhaps, but certainly not something of great value. Thinking little of it, he tied the stone onto a piece of twine and hung it around the neck of his faithful donkey, treating it as a mere decoration.
As Khamar continued his journey to the city, he passed by a jeweler’s shop. The jeweler, a man of sharp eyes and even sharper wits, immediately noticed the stone hanging from the donkey’s neck. In an instant, he recognized it for what it truly was: a rare and priceless diamond, worth more than all the treasures of the village combined. The jeweler’s heart raced with excitement, for he knew that if he could acquire the diamond from the unsuspecting potter, his fortune would be made.
The jeweler called out to Khamar, beckoning him to come closer. “Good day, my friend!” he said with a friendly smile. “I see you’ve got a fine stone there. Would you be willing to sell it?”
Khamar, oblivious to the true value of the diamond, was surprised by the offer. “If it’s of any use to you, I’d be happy to sell it,” he replied nonchalantly.
The jeweler, calculating the situation, decided to play it cool. He knew that if he showed too much interest, Khamar might suspect something and demand a higher price. So, with a casual air, he asked, “And what price do you ask for this stone?”
Khamar, having no idea of the diamond’s worth, thought for a moment. He knew that his pots usually sold for a few rupees each, and he figured the stone couldn’t be worth much more than that. “Give me two rupees, and it’s yours,” he said.
The jeweler’s heart leaped at the prospect of acquiring the diamond for such a pitiful sum, but he was clever and cautious. He feared that paying the two rupees outright might arouse the potter’s suspicions. So, pretending to haggle, he said, “Two rupees is too much for a mere stone. I’ll give you one rupee for it, no more.”
Khamar, believing the stone to be of little consequence, shrugged and agreed. “Fine, one rupee it is,” he said.
But as the jeweler reached into his pocket to retrieve the coin, something extraordinary happened. The diamond, as if understanding the disgrace of being sold so cheaply, began to tremble. Suddenly, before either man could react, the diamond shattered into countless tiny fragments, scattering across the ground like grains of sand.
Both Khamar and the jeweler stood frozen in shock. The jeweler, his face twisted in disbelief, stared at the remains of the precious gem. His greed had blinded him, and now the treasure he sought was lost forever.
Khamar, too, was bewildered, but it was the jeweler who broke the silence, his voice filled with anger and frustration. “You fool!” he cried, not knowing whether he was shouting at Khamar or the shattered diamond. “I was going to give you honor! I would have taken you from the neck of a donkey and placed you in a queen’s necklace, or perhaps in a king’s crown! You would have known glory, but now you are nothing—broken and worthless!”
At that moment, the fragments of the diamond seemed to shimmer with a faint light, and a voice, soft yet powerful, spoke in response. “Foolish jeweler,” it said, “it is not I who am unworthy, but you. The potter did not know my value, for he is simple and unlearned. But you, a jeweler, recognized me for what I truly am, and yet you sought to buy me for a single rupee. Your greed and deceit are what broke me, not the ignorance of the potter.”
The jeweler’s face paled as the truth of the diamond’s words sank in. He had let his avarice destroy something priceless, something that could have brought honor and prestige to his name. Now, all he was left with was the bitter taste of regret.
The diamond continued, “I am the strongest of all stones, capable of withstanding the tests of time and nature. But I could not endure the dishonor of being sold so cheaply by one who knew my worth. Better to shatter into pieces than to be treated with such disdain.”
Khamar, who had been listening in awe, finally understood that the stone he had so carelessly hung around his donkey’s neck was no ordinary trinket. It had been a treasure beyond his comprehension, but he took comfort in the knowledge that it was the jeweler’s greed, not his own ignorance, that had led to the diamond’s destruction.
The diamond’s voice faded, and the fragments on the ground slowly lost their luster, turning to dust that the wind carried away. The jeweler, defeated and humbled, returned to his shop, where he would forever be haunted by the memory of the treasure he had lost through his own folly.
Khamar, too, returned to his village, but he did so with a newfound respect for the things he did not understand. He continued his life as a potter, but he always remembered the lesson of the diamond: that true worth cannot be measured by money alone, and that honor and integrity are more valuable than all the riches in the world.
In the years that followed, the story of Khamar and the shattered diamond spread far and wide, becoming a lesson in humility and the dangers of greed. And as the elders of the village told the tale to their children, they would often add, “Daughters, like diamonds, are precious. If given to the hands of those who do not value them, they too may break. It is our duty to ensure they are treasured for the priceless gems they are.”
Thus, the tale of the diamond became a symbol not just of lost wealth, but of the priceless value of respect, honor, and love—values that, once shattered, can never be fully restored.
