There are many dull people, but few as foolish as Balame.
Balame's mother had lost her husband early and often complained about the hardships of being a widow in front of her not-so-bright son. Though the dull son didn't understand what it meant to be a widow, he remembered the word because he had heard it so many times.
Balame's mother had arranged his marriage long ago and married him off, though the simple-minded son understood nothing of it. His wife remained as she was before marriage — still living with her parents most of the time. However, life is unpredictable, and one day Balame's mother fell ill. The mother called her dull son to her side and told him to bring his wife home so that she could take care of her mother-in-law. The son refused repeatedly. Finally, under his mother's insistence, Balame reluctantly agreed to her request.
"I am old now, and I am sick," the mother said to her dull son. "Your wife can manage the household now. She should help me. Take anyone you want with you; let him be your servant."
The mother then took some money from her purse and gave it to her son:
"Take this money and buy something along the way to give to your wife."
Balame left home and went to find his good friend Porame. Porame was much like Balame—also scatterbrained and clumsy. They had grown up playing together, being foolish and silly all their lives, and were very close friends. Balame asked Porame to serve as his servant and come along to fetch his wife. Porame smiled broadly and was happy to go with Balame.
The two set off on their journey. But they hadn't gone far when they reached a shop—a fabric store. Balame said he wanted to buy some cloth for his wife, so he entered the shop with Porame. The store had fabrics of every pattern imaginable, dazzling to behold, but Balame only chose one kind. He paid the money, took the cloth, and continued on the road with Porame. What Balame didn’t know was that in India at that time, the type of cloth he had bought was only worn by widows!
The two walked for half a day before reaching the village of Balame's in-laws. As Balame got closer to his in-laws' house, his steps became slower and slower. The nearer he got, the more fearful he became. Despite his dullness, he was quite shy. Normally, except for his own parents and Porame, he avoided meeting anyone, including his own wife. He never dared to speak face-to-face with others; whenever someone looked into his eyes, he would feel flustered and his face would grow hot. Now, he was about to meet his in-laws and his wife, and his mind was in complete turmoil, unsure of what to do.
"Porame," Balame said to his friend, "I can only rely on you now. My heart is pounding, my legs are trembling. I cannot, I absolutely cannot go to my in-laws' house. You take the cloth and give it to them. Tell them it’s from my mother to my wife, and tell them that my mother hopes my wife will return home soon to live with my mother."