One fine morning, Emperor Akbar and Birbal strolled through the royal gardens. The air was cool, the fountains sang, and flocks of crows wheeled overhead, cawing loudly. Akbar watched them and a mischievous idea sparkled in his eyes. He loved testing Birbal with impossible questions, and here was a perfect one.
“Birbal,” said the emperor, “tell me — how many crows are there in my city of Agra?”
Any other courtier would have stammered and begged for mercy. But Birbal did not even blink. He gazed at the sky for a moment, moved his lips as if counting, and answered calmly, “Huzoor, there are exactly ninety-five thousand, four hundred and sixty-three crows in Agra.”
Akbar raised his eyebrows. “So precise! And how can you be so sure?”
“Have them counted, Your Majesty,” said Birbal with a bow. “You will see I am right.”
“And if we count and find MORE crows than your number?” asked Akbar, hiding a smile.
“That is easily explained, huzoor,” replied Birbal. “It would mean that crows from neighbouring towns and villages have come to Agra to visit their friends and relatives. Guests arrive in every city — why not among crows?”
“Hmm,” said Akbar, enjoying the game. “And if we find FEWER crows than your number?”
“Even simpler, Your Majesty,” said Birbal. “Then some of our Agra crows have surely flown out of the city to visit THEIR friends and relatives elsewhere. Perhaps a wedding in Delhi, or a feast in Fatehpur. Crows too have family duties, after all.”
Akbar burst out laughing. There was no way to trap this man! Whether the count came out high or low, Birbal's answer stood firm on its two clever legs. The emperor pulled a ring from his finger and gifted it to his minister then and there.
“You have not counted the crows, Birbal,” he chuckled, “but you have counted every path a question can take. That is true cleverness.”
And the crows above cawed on, quite unaware that they had just made Birbal a little more famous.