Near the town of Brahmapura rose a wild, thickly wooded hill. One night a thief stole the great bell of the town temple and fled with it into those hills. But deep in the forest a tiger sprang upon him, and the thief was never seen again. The bell lay fallen among the rocks — until a troop of monkeys found it. Delighted with its clanging, they rang it at all hours among the peaks.
The people of the town learned that the thief had met his end in the hills, and night after night they heard the bell tolling wildly where no man lived. A whisper began to spread: “A terrible demon haunts the hill! It is the Bell-Demon, who rings as he prowls!” Fear grew like a shadow at dusk. Doors were barred, travellers turned back, and family after family began to leave the town. The king was deeply worried.
Now in that town lived a sharp-eyed old woman named Karala. She listened carefully and thought, “This bell rings at midnight, at noon, at any odd moment — like a child playing with a toy, not like a demon spreading terror. Could it be animals?” Quietly she climbed the hill, hid herself, and watched — and there were the monkeys, swinging the bell with glee.
She went to the king and said, “Maharaj, grant me a little money, and I will deal with this Bell-Demon.” The king agreed at once. Karala bought heaps of fruits and roasted gram, carried them up the hill, and spread them on the ground beneath the trees. The greedy monkeys dropped the bell and scrambled down for the treats — and the old woman calmly picked up the bell and carried it home to the temple.
The town rejoiced, the king honoured Karala with great rewards, and the terrible Bell-Demon was never heard again. For most fears are only noises we have not yet examined — and one calm, clever look can silence them forever.