I look flat, but I am deep. Hidden realms I shelter. Lives I take, but the food I offer. At times I am beautiful. I can be calm, angry, and turbulent. I have no heart but offer pleasure as well as death. No man can own me, yet I encompass what all men must have. What am I?
Once while in his court, King Akbar asked Birbal to write something on a wall that makes one sad when read in good times and makes one happy when read in sad times.
He took only a few moment and wrote something that fit the requirements. What did he write?