With pointed fangs I sit and wait; with piercing force I crunch out fate; grabbing victims, proclaiming might; physically joining with a single bite. 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?
He digs out tiny caves and stores gold and silver in them. He also built bridges of silver and made crowns of gold. They are the smallest you could imagine. Sooner or later everybody needs his help, yet many people are afraid to let him help them. Who is he?