Long ago, there lived a poor Brahmin in a village. He used to beg for a living and sometimes, had to go without food for many days. One day he got a pot full of flour. He was very happy. He took the pot home and hung it up near his bed. He lay on the bed and gazed at his pot. Soon, he fell fast asleep and started dreaming.
He dreamt that if a famine came to the land, he could sell the flour for a very good price. People would outbid each other. He would finally sell it for twenty rupees. With these twenty rupees, he would buy a pair of goats. He would feed these goats on green grass. Soon the goats would have lots of kids and he would trade the whole herd of goats for buffaloes and cows. The cows would have calves of their own and there would be lots and lots of milk. He would make sweetmeats with the milk, and butter and curd and sell it all in the market. Soon, he would grow very rich and build a big house with huge gardens and fruit orchards. He would now start trading in pearls, diamonds and other precious stones. The King would hear of his riches and bring along his daughter, the beautiful Princess and offer her hand in marriage.
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Soon, they would have sons and daughters and they would run around the house, playing. When he would grow tired, he would pick up a stick and beat them and beat them and beat them!
Imagining he was beating the children, the Brahmin began to beat the air with his hands. Suddenly his hands struck the pot of flour, the pot broke and all its contents spilled to the ground. The Brahmin woke up to find that he was dreaming everything. There was no big house, no lovely gardens and no wife or children. Only the broken pot and flour scattered all over the floor.
Moral: Never build castles in the air.
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