A rumor says a moneylender ‘washes’ guilty coins in the public well. Tenali launders the gossip with sunlight.
Noon. Brass ladles polished to mirrors. Boys drew water, flashing coins of light across the courtyard.
When the moneylender came to drink, Tenali flicked a coin into the bucket. The surface shimmered gold. “See?” he said. “When the water is public, every coin looks like yours. If you want cleaner money, make the well cleaner.”
That evening the moneylender funded new steps, deeper stones, clay cups on hooks. Tenali set a plaque: Generosity Clarifies Faster Than Water.
Within a week the rumor evaporated like mist off a pail. People drank; the well tasted faintly of reforms. The coin kept shining—in the open this time. Sunlight launders better than gossip.
