The Cleverest Answer

One lazy afternoon, Emperor Akbar found himself in a playful, testing mood, determined to finally catch Birbal without a ready answer. Looking out from the palace balcony at the crows circling above the city, he called Birbal over.

"Birbal," Akbar said, "tell me — exactly how many crows are there in my entire city?"

The court, sensing an impossible question, leaned in with interest, certain this time Birbal would finally be stumped. After all, no one could possibly count every crow in a bustling city at any given moment — they were constantly flying in and out, never staying still.

Birbal, however, did not hesitate for even a moment. "Your Majesty," he announced confidently, "there are exactly ninety-five thousand, four hundred and sixty-three crows in this city."

A ripple of astonished murmurs went through the court. Akbar, both amused and skeptical, leaned forward. "Are you quite certain of that number, Birbal? What if I had it counted myself, and found a different number entirely?"

"Your Majesty is most welcome to have it counted," Birbal replied smoothly. "If the count comes out higher than my number, it simply means that some crows from neighboring towns and villages are visiting relatives here in the city. And if the count comes out lower, it only means that some of our own city's crows have gone traveling elsewhere to visit relatives of their own. Either way, Your Majesty, my number remains perfectly correct."

Akbar burst into laughter, utterly delighted by the answer, and the entire court laughed along with him. There was, of course, no way to prove Birbal wrong — his clever framing meant that whatever number anyone counted, his original answer could never truly be disproven.

"You have outwitted me again, Birbal," Akbar admitted, still chuckling, and rewarded him for his wit — not because the number was true, but because no one in the kingdom could have answered more cleverly.