Let me tell you about a man people in the village never fully trusted.
The man wasn’t poor. He wasn’t helpless. He just preferred easy money. If he could earn a few coins through deception and trickery, he chose that over honest work every single time.
Everyone knew it. Still, now and then, someone forgot.
One year, after a decent harvest, he noticed a farmer who had finally managed to save a bit of money. The farmer had worked for years without complaint. His dream was simple — buy a small piece of land so his children would grow up a little more secure than he had.
The old man walked beside him one afternoon, kicking dust along the path.
“I might sell my field,” he said, like it was no big deal. “Good soil. Water nearby. I’ll give you a fair price.”
The farmer didn’t jump at the offer. He wiped his forehead and said, “Let me see it first.”
So they walked out past the last row of houses, past the thorn fence, all the way to the edge of the field. A leaning hut stood there, looking like a strong wind might finish it off. Beside it sat an old well, ringed with moss and quiet as a sleeping animal.
The old man tapped the stones with his stick.
“This well,” he said, lowering his voice, “is special.”
The farmer squinted at him. “Special how?”
“There’s silver down there.”
The farmer laughed — actually laughed — but the old man had prepared for that. He dropped a bucket, waited, then pulled it up with a few dull, shiny pieces clinking inside.
The farmer stopped laughing.
Seventy-five gold coins for everything, the old man said. A bargain, really.
That night, the farmer told his wife while she stirred lentils over the fire. She didn’t look impressed.
“That sounds like signs of a scam,” she said flatly. “Nobody hides treasure in a well and then sells it cheap. Please think before making a decision.”
She wiped her hands and added, “Go talk to the elder. He’s helped plenty of people with deals — especially with avoiding fraud.”
So the farmer went.
The elder listened, nodding slowly, like he’d heard stories like this before. Then he said, “If the well truly gives silver, the seller should prove it. Ask him to write it down. Never forget the importance of written agreement when big money is involved.”
The next morning, the old man showed up early, smiling wide.
The farmer stood outside and said, “I’ll buy the land. But first, write and sign that the well produces silver and that you’re selling it to me for seventy-five gold coins.”
The old man’s smile slipped. “Why all this? Don’t you trust me?”
The farmer shrugged. “I do. But I also believe we should trust but verify.”
A long silence followed. Somewhere, a goat bleated.
Then the old man waved his hand. “Forget the writing. Just give me ten gold coins and take it.”
Well. That told the whole story.
The farmer didn’t argue. He went straight to the village leaders. By evening, everyone knew. No one felt shocked — just annoyed they had almost believed him again.
They chased the old man out before sunset. No speeches. No drama. Just a few firm words and a pointed road leading away from the village.
Because it always ends the same way. Greed leads to downfall. And the consequences of dishonesty don’t stay hidden forever.
The farmer went back to his fields the next morning. Same soil. Same sweat. No silver. Still, he slept peacefully that night — and that counted for something.
Years later, whenever someone heard about an unbelievable bargain, they would shake their head and say, “Remember the silver well.”
They didn’t need to explain further.
Everyone understood why honesty is the best policy.
Not because it makes life exciting. But because it keeps life steady. And steady is what lasts.
If You Liked This Folk Tale…
If this folk story from Haryana about wisdom, caution, and how honesty is the best policy stayed with you, you might enjoy another powerful story about the consequences of dishonesty. In a fascinating folk tale from Manipur, a man’s lies don’t just hurt others — they begin to show on his face in a way he can no longer hide. It’s a memorable reminder that deceit always leaves a mark. You can read that folk story here.
Kalai is passionate about reading and reinterpreting folk tales from all over the country. Write to her at kalai.muse@gmail.com to know more about her.