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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Tales of the Sun + or Folklore of Southern India + +Author: Mrs. Howard Kingscote + Pandit Natesa Sastri + +Release Date: August 7, 2011 [EBook #37002] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF THE SUN *** + + + + +Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from scanned images of public domain material +from the Google Print project.) + + + + + + +</pre> + +<div class="front"> +<div class="div1"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first xd20e103"><span class="sc">Tales of the Sun</span>:</p> +<p class="xd20e103">Or,</p> +<p class="xd20e103">Folklore of Southern India.</p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="titlePage"> +<div class="docTitle"> +<div class="mainTitle">Tales of the Sun</div> +<div class="subTitle">Or</div> +<div class="subTitle">Folklore<br> +of Southern India.</div> +</div> +<div class="byline">Collected by<br> +<span class="docAuthor">Mrs. Howard Kingscote</span><br> +and<br> +<span class="docAuthor">Paṇḍit Naṭêsá +Sástrî.</span></div> +<div class="docImprint">London:<br> +W. H. Allen & Co. 13 Waterloo Place,<br> +and at Calcutta.<br> +<span class="docDate">1890.</span></div> +</div> +<div class="div1"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first xd20e103">London:<br> +Printed by T. Brettell and Co. 51 Rupert Street,—W. <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="xd20e151" href="#xd20e151" name= +"xd20e151">v</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="div1"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">Preface.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">In offering these few Indian tales to the public, I +cannot refrain from adding a few words at the beginning to express to +<span class="corr" id="xd20e157" title= +"Source: Pandit">Paṇḍit</span> Natêśa +Sástrî my gratitude for the great assistance he has given +me in collecting them, assistance without which they would never have +seen the light in the shape of a complete volume. When I began writing +down these tales, my only means of collecting them was through my +native servants, who used to get them from the old women in the +bazaars; but the fables they brought me were as full of corruptions and +foreign adaptions as the miscellaneous ingredients that find their way +into a dish of their own curry and rice, and had it not been for Mr. +Sástrî’s timely aid, my small work would have gone +forth to the world laden with inaccuracies.</p> +<p>Mr. Sástrî not only corrected the errors of my own +tales, but allowed me to add to them many <span class="pagenum">[<a id= +"xd20e162" href="#xd20e162" name="xd20e162">vi</a>]</span>that he had +himself collected, and that had already been published, either in small +volumes or in numbers of <i>The Indian Antiquary</i>. For this reason I +have left several notes which Mr. Cowper Temple, Mr. Clowston, and +others had added to the tales that had already been printed, as they +were too valuable to dispense with, and may be of service to students +of folklore. In conclusion, I would crave the indulgence of my readers +with regard to the style in which the tales are written, which has been +left as nearly as possible in the form of a literal translation, in +order to lend the Stories a “<i>couleur locale</i>,” which +is characteristic of the country they spring from.</p> +<p class="signed">G. K. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd20e172" href= +"#xd20e172" name="xd20e172">vii</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="toc" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">Contents.</h2> +<table class="tocList"> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">Chapter</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"></td> +<td class="tocPageNum">Page</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">I.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch1">The Three Deaf +Men</a></span></td> +<td class="tocPageNum">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">II.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch2">Why +Brâhmaṇs cannot eat in the Dark</a></span></td> +<td class="tocPageNum">5</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">III.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch3">The +Soothsayer’s Son</a></span></td> +<td class="tocPageNum">11</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">IV.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><span class="sc"><a href= +"#ch4">Raṇavîrasiṅg</a></span></td> +<td class="tocPageNum">36</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">V.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch5">Charity alone +Conquers</a></span></td> +<td class="tocPageNum">65</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">VI.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch6">Mr. Won’t +Give and Mr. Won’t Leave</a></span></td> +<td class="tocPageNum">86</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">VII.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch7">Mr. +Mighty-of-his-Mouth</a></span></td> +<td class="tocPageNum">93</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">VIII.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch8">The +Mother-in-Law became an Ass</a></span></td> +<td class="tocPageNum">102</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">IX.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch9">The Story of +Appayya</a></span></td> +<td class="tocPageNum">107</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">X.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch10">The +Brâhmiṇ Girl that Married a Tiger</a></span></td> +<td class="tocPageNum">119</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">XI.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch11">The Good +Husband and the Bad Wife</a></span></td> +<td class="tocPageNum">131</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">XII.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch12">The Good Wife +and the Bad Husband</a></span></td> +<td class="tocPageNum">135</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">XIII.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch13">The Lost +Camel</a></span></td> +<td class="tocPageNum">140</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch13a">The Three +Calamities</a></span></td> +<td class="tocPageNum">143</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch13b">The Honest +but Rash Hunter</a></span></td> +<td class="tocPageNum">155</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch13c">The +Brâhmaṇ’s Wife and the Mungoose</a></span> +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd20e340" href="#xd20e340" name= +"xd20e340">viii</a>]</span></td> +<td class="tocPageNum">162</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch13d">The Faithless +Wife and the Ungrateful Blind Man</a></span></td> +<td class="tocPageNum">165</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch13e">The Wonderful +Mango Fruit</a></span></td> +<td class="tocPageNum">171</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch13f">The Poisoned +Food</a></span></td> +<td class="tocPageNum">179</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch13g">Eating up the +Protector</a></span></td> +<td class="tocPageNum">184</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">XIV.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch14">The Monkey +with the Tom-Tom</a></span></td> +<td class="tocPageNum">187</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">XV.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch15">Pride goeth +before a Fall</a></span></td> +<td class="tocPageNum">190</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">XVI.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch16">Good will grow +out of Good</a></span></td> +<td class="tocPageNum">194</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">XVII.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch17">Light makes +Prosperity</a></span></td> +<td class="tocPageNum">202</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">XVIII.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch18"><span class= +"corr" id="xd20e420" title= +"Source: Chandralekhâ">Chandralêkhâ</span> and the +Eight Robbers</a></span></td> +<td class="tocPageNum">210</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">XIX.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch19">The Conquest +of Fate</a></span></td> +<td class="tocPageNum">230</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">XX.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch20">The +Brâhmaṇ Priest who became an Amildâr</a></span></td> +<td class="tocPageNum">248</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">XXI.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch21">The +Gardener’s Cunning Wife</a></span></td> +<td class="tocPageNum">257</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">XXII.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch22">Keep it for +the Beggar</a></span></td> +<td class="tocPageNum">262</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">XXIII.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch23">Good Luck to +the Lucky One</a></span></td> +<td class="tocPageNum">267</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">XXIV.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><span class="sc"><a href= +"#ch24">Retaliation</a></span></td> +<td class="tocPageNum">274</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">XXV.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch25">The Beggar and +the Five Muffins</a></span></td> +<td class="tocPageNum">280</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">XXVI.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch26">The +<span class="corr" id="xd20e504" title= +"Source: Brahmarâkshars">Brahmarâkshas</span> and the +Hair</a></span></td> +<td class="tocPageNum">285</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"><span class="sc"><a href= +"#notes">Notes</a></span></td> +<td class="tocPageNum">290</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p><span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd20e517" href="#xd20e517" name= +"xd20e517">ix</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="div1"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">Introduction.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">It has often struck all lovers of Folklore and +National Legends with wonder, that so many countries should have +reproduced in different imagery and language the same tales. Persia, +Arabia, and India give us the same fables as Italy, France, Norway, and +Iceland, except for slight variations principally arising from +difference of custom, distance of time, idiom and nationality.</p> +<p>Able writers have explained this to us by a theory worthy of +consideration, and admirable in its origin, but nevertheless wholly +their own. They would have us believe that a certain group of tales +belonged to a certain nation, and that through emigration and +immigration, through wars and dispersions, these same tales have been +carried backwards and forwards and dragged from country to country +borrowing the language and peculiarities of the lands they passed +through, just as the seed of some rare plant is borne <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="xd20e525" href="#xd20e525" name= +"xd20e525">x</a>]</span>on the breeze and bears fruit coarse or more +refined according to the soil in which it at last takes root.</p> +<p>In Germany we have Gödeck, Köhler, Sichecht, and a host of +others who tell us that these tales are Oriental, and that all fable +originates in the East, others again that they are transmitted to us by +the same channel as the Aryan languages from Aryan tradition. I cannot +see why one nation or one country alone should have the intelligence of +producing fables which as a rule are next to religion in their teaching +and intentions. If proverbs are the wisdom of nations, what are fables +and legends but developed proverbs. What is the meaning of fable? It +means an intent to convey moral instruction in a narrative in which the +characters are represented by birds, beasts, or fishes; and often +plants.</p> +<p>Practically a parable is the same thing, and folklore and +fairy-tales are the attempts of intelligent people to inculcate in +their children or other ignorant people the great truths of religion or +wisdom, by means of word-pictures that would bring these truths within +the easy grasp of undeveloped <span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd20e531" +href="#xd20e531" name="xd20e531">xi</a>]</span>minds, it is the old +repeated tale? The Struggle between Right and Wrong. “Faust and +Marguerite.” The Wicked Punished, The Virtuous Rewarded.</p> +<p>Disguise them as you will, there are certain tendons which run +through the world from age to age; cords which no human hand has yet +severed—which no decree of God’s has changed—these +are love and death, hate and vengeance, virtue and vice, right and +wrong, suffering and joy; and as long as there is a world, as long as +children are born, parents will invent fables with which to bring these +facts before their offsprings’ eyes in an intelligible +manner.</p> +<p>In the fables of the East, and especially of India, there is one +peculiarity, namely, that craft and cunning are more generally rewarded +than virtue, and stupidity condemned. This is the national +characteristic. The tales of Southern India are as varied as any +others, either Eastern or European. Magic and supernatural phenomena +play a great part, but are usually assisted by the powers of the gods. +This is again a national Hindoo characteristic. <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="xd20e537" href="#xd20e537" name= +"xd20e537">xii</a>]</span>The Hindoo would shrink from any undertaking +that is not under the patronage of the gods; yet here is a very +noticeable feature, namely, that the divinities are treated as entirely +secondary in power, interwoven only into a man’s daily affairs as +a sort of backbone or support in time of need, but to be despised and +trampled upon at other times with impunity. This is a natural feature +in a nation which has a deity to represent every vice and sin, and +lends a certain character to the tales of Southern India different to +the folklore of other countries.</p> +<p>Probably further research will lay bare many still hidden treasures +of Hindoo folklore; but this small collection of tales will doubtless +suffice to throw light on Indian tradition, and to bring forward the +natural peculiarities of the Hindoos as well as the assimilation of the +folklore of different nations, an assimilation which I maintain results +from the teaching propensities of each country and not from +appropriation.</p> +<p class="signed"><span class="sc">Georgiana Kingscote.</span> +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb1" href="#pb1" name= +"pb1">1</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +</div> +<div class="body"> +<div id="ch1" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="super">Folklore in Southern India.</h2> +<h2 class="label">I.</h2> +<h2 class="main">The Story of the Three Deaf Men.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">When any awkward blunder occurs from a person acting +under a mistaken notion, there is a common proverb in Tamil to the +effect that the matter ended like the story of the three deaf +men—(<i>Muchcheviḍan kadaiyây muḍindadu</i>). +The following is the story told to explain the allusion:—</p> +<p>In a remote village there lived a husband and wife. Both of them +were quite deaf. They had made this household arrangement, namely, to +cook cabbage with tamarind and soup without tamarind one day, and +cabbage without tamarind and soup with tamarind on the other. Thus on +every alternate day the same dishes were repeated. One day, when taking +his meal, the husband found the tamarind cabbage so very tasty that he +wanted to have it also next day, and gave instructions to that effect. +The deaf wife did not <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb2" href="#pb2" +name="pb2">2</a>]</span>understand the order. According to the +established rule she cooked cabbage without tamarind next day. The +husband, when he sat down to his meal, found his order disregarded and, +being enraged thereat, threw the cabbage against the wall, and went out +in a rage. The wife ate her fill, and prepared tamarind cabbage for her +husband.</p> +<p>The husband went out, and sat down in a place where three roads +crossed, to calm down his anger. At that time a shepherd happened to +pass that way. He had lately lost a good cow and calf of his, and had +been seeking them for some days. When he saw the deaf man sitting by +the way, he took him for a soothsayer, and asked him to find out by his +knowledge of <i>Jôsyam</i><a class="noteref" id="xd20e567src" +href="#xd20e567" name="xd20e567src">1</a> where the cow was likely to +be found. The herdsman, too, was very deaf; and the man, without +hearing what he was saying, abused him, and wished to be left +undisturbed. In abusing him the husband stretched out his hand, +pointing to the shepherd’s face. This pointing the shepherd +understood to indicate the direction where the lost cow and calf would +be found. Thus thinking the poor shepherd went on in that direction, +promising to present the soothsayer with the calf if he found it there +with the cow. To his joy, and by mere chance, he found them. His +delight knew no bounds. “That is a <span class="pagenum">[<a id= +"pb3" href="#pb3" name="pb3">3</a>]</span>capital soothsayer. Surely I +must present him with the calf.” So thought he to himself, and +returned with them to the deaf man, and, pointing to the calf, +requested him to accept it.</p> +<p>Now it unfortunately happened that the calf’s tail was broken +and crooked. The man thought the herdsman was blaming him unreasonably +for having broken the calf’s tail, while he knew nothing about +it, and so, by a waive of his hand, denied the charge. This the +shepherd mistook for a refusal of the calf, and a demand for the cow. +The shepherd said, “How very greedy you are! I promised you only +the calf, and not the cow.” The husband said, “Never; I +know nothing of either your cow or calf. I never broke the calf’s +tail. Some other must have done it.” Thus they quarrelled, +without understanding each other, for a long time, when a third party +happened to pass by. Understanding the cause of the dispute, and, +desiring to profit by their stupidity, he interfered, and said in a +loud voice, and yet so as not to be heard by the deaf husband, +“Well, shepherd, you had better go away with the cow. These +soothsayers are always greedy. Leave the calf with me, and I shall make +him accept it.” The shepherd, much pleased to have secured the +cow, walked home, leaving the calf with the third person. When the +shepherd had gone, the passenger said to the deaf man, “You see +how very unlawful <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb4" href="#pb4" name= +"pb4">4</a>]</span>it is for the shepherd to charge you with an offence +which you never committed. It is always the case with shepherds. They +are the biggest fools in the world! But never mind, so long as you have +a friend in me. I shall somehow explain to him your innocence, and +restore the calf to him.” The husband, much pleased, ran home to +escape from the consequences of supposed guilt. At the expense of the +stupidity and deafness of both, the third traveller walked home with +the calf.</p> +<p>The husband, on his return, sat down to his dinner, and his wife +served him the tamarind cabbage. He happened to put his finger to the +place where the cabbage without tamarind had previously been served on +the leaf. On applying it to his mouth, he found it so very sweet that +he demanded that dish again. The wife replied to him that she had +already emptied the pan. “Then at least bring me the cabbage that +is sticking to the saucepan,” said the husband; and the wife did +accordingly.</p> +<p>Here ends the story. The latter portion is also said to be the +explanation of a proverb that is prevalent in +Tamil,—“<i lang="ta-latn">Śevuru kîraiyai +val̤ichchu pôḍuḍi +śuṇaikeṭṭa mûḷi</i>,” meaning, +“O thou feelingless deaf woman, give me at least the cabbage that +is sticking to the saucepan.<span class="corr" id="xd20e583" title= +"Not in source">”</span> This proverb is applied to stubborn +wives, who will have their own way, and do not obey their husbands +submissively in unrefined society. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb5" +href="#pb5" name="pb5">5</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e567" href="#xd20e567src" name="xd20e567">1</a></span> +Soothsaying.</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch2" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="label">II.</h2> +<h2 class="main">Why Brâhmaṇs cannot eat in the Dark.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Among Hindûs, especially among +Brâhmaṇs of the Madras Presidency—and I now see from +personal observation that it is the same in the Bombay Presidency +also—there is a custom, while taking their meals, of leaving +their food uneaten when it so happens that from any cause the light is +blown out. Of course this could occur only in the night-time. Such +mishaps now-a-days take place only in poor families, sitting down to +supper with a single light. Hence the following story, told as the +origin of this custom, is beginning to be forgotten. It runs as +follows:—</p> +<p>In a certain village there lived a Brâhmaṇ who had an +only daughter. She was deeply read in Saṅskṛit, and was of +the most charming beauty. He procured a husband for her as deeply read +as herself. The betrothal had already taken place; the +<i>muhûrta</i> or auspicious time for her marriage was fixed at +the tenth <i>ghaṭikâ</i><a class="noteref" id="xd20e601src" +href="#xd20e601" name="xd20e601src">1</a> of that night. On that +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb6" href="#pb6" name= +"pb6">6</a>]</span>very evening the son-in-law went to a tank to +perform his <i>Sandhyâ vandana</i> or evening prayers. It swarmed +with crocodiles. People never went near it. The son-in-law, being quite +new to the village, entered the tank without knowing anything of the +danger. Unfortunately, there was none near to warn him. He had set his +foot in the water when a crocodile caught him by the leg, and began to +drag him into the water. That very night was fixed for his nuptials, +and a crocodile was taking him to feast on his flesh. He was extremely +horrified at his position, and said humbly to his enemy, “My +friend crocodile! Listen to my words first, and then decide for +yourself. A wife, the only daughter of an old Brâhmaṇ, is +waiting for me to-night. If you eat me now, you take me away without my +seeing her, my father-in-law, and other relatives. Their hearts may +break at the news of my death on the very day of the wedding. They may +all curse you. If, on the contrary, you leave me now, I shall go home, +speak to my wife and others about the sad calamity that has come over +me, and after embracing and taking leave of her will come to you for +your supper at the fifteenth <i>ghaṭikâ</i>. Till then +leave me.” The cruel crocodile, though very fond of human flesh, +and himself dying of hunger, spared him for a few +<i>ghaṭikâs</i> at his humble request. After extracting +several oaths from <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb7" href="#pb7" name= +"pb7">7</a>]</span>him that he would return in accordance to his +promise, the crocodile went into the water.</p> +<p>The son-in-law also went home. All his joy vanished; how could he be +happy after his promise to the crocodile. Still, to give no uneasiness +to the aged parents of his wife, he underwent all the ceremonies of the +marriage. Only five more <i>ghaṭikâs</i> remained for him +to live in the world, as he thought. He, in a few words, explained +everything to his wife, and asked her permission to leave her. She +showed no sign of sorrow, preached to him about the iron hand of fate, +and that he must undergo what was written on his forehead. She most +willingly gave him permission to go, and he returned to the tank even a +<i>ghaṭikâ</i> earlier, and called the crocodile, who came +and seized him.</p> +<p>At this moment a certain light glittered before the eyes of the +crocodile and vanished. It was a <span class="corr" id="xd20e628" +title="Source: woman’s">woman</span> that did it. The wife, after +consoling her husband, and preaching to him about the supremacy of +fate, had accompanied him unobserved with a lighted lamp concealed in a +vessel. Just when the crocodile applied its teeth to the leg of her +husband, she took the lamp out, flashed it before the crocodile’s +eyes, and quenched it. Nor was it without its intended effect. The +crocodile left the husband to himself, and said, “You had better +go now; I will never touch you after seeing a lamp <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb8" href="#pb8" name="pb8">8</a>]</span>extinguished +when I began my meal to-day.” The husband was astonished at the +device of his wife, and still more at the faithful observance of a rule +in an unreasonable beast. From that day it was fixed that men, who are +still more reasonable, should never eat when the lamp is blown out.</p> +<p>Another story is told. In a remote village there lived a poor woman, +who laboured from morning till night in different houses, and returned +to her hut with two measures of rice. That quantity would serve for ten +ordinary persons. Being extremely poor, she used to keep no lamp, but +cook her rice in the dark, only guided by the light of the fire. When +she sat down for her meal even the light of the fire faded; so she had +to eat in the dark. Though she used the full two measures of rice that +she brought away every day, her hunger was never satisfied; she was +always in extreme want.</p> +<p>Now it so happened that she had a younger sister, who was somewhat +richer than herself. The younger came to see her elder sister. The +former never used to be without a light, and so asked her sister to buy +some oil that night and light a lamp. The elder was compelled by +necessity to do so; for that, she devoted a portion of her two measures +of rice, and returned home with great uneasiness and perplexity of mind +as to how less than two measures would furnish their supper that night, +while full two measures <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb9" href="#pb9" +name="pb9">9</a>]</span>were found insufficient on former occasions for +herself alone. The lamp was set for the first time in her house, and +she cooked the remaining rice. The younger sister was astonished to see +her using so much for two. The elder, thinking within herself that the +younger would soon see her mistake, cooked everything. Two leaves were +spread, and they sat down to their supper.<a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e639src" href="#xd20e639" name="xd20e639src">2</a> Not even a +fourth part of the rice in the pot was consumed, but already they were +satisfied. The younger sister laughed at the foolishness of her elder, +who now said, “I do not know what magic you have in you. Every +day I cook two measures of rice, and fast the whole night, without +finding them sufficient for myself. Now a fourth of less than two +measures has satiated both<span class="corr" id="xd20e642" title= +"Source: ,">.</span> Please explain the cause.” The younger +sister, who was very intelligent herself, wanted to find out the cause, +and asked next day if she might serve the meals without the lamp. +Instead of eating she stretched out her hand and caught hold of a lock +of hair. She asked the other at once to light the lamp, which, being +done, they found a devil sitting by their side. On being questioned how +he came there, he said that he was in the habit of going to every one +who ate without a lamp, and swallowing his meals fast without leaving +him a morsel. The elder sister <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb10" +href="#pb10" name="pb10">10</a>]</span>perceived her mistake, and used +a lamp from that day. The demon ceased to come. She had abundance for +herself and something to spare. So when the lamp is blown out, devils +are said to come and eat out of our leaves. Hence the custom of rising +whenever such mishaps occur. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb11" href= +"#pb11" name="pb11">11</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e601" href="#xd20e601src" name="xd20e601">1</a></span> An Indian +hour equal to twenty-four minutes.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e639" href="#xd20e639src" name="xd20e639">2</a></span> It is the +custom amongst widows to use betel leaves instead of plates.</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch3" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="label">III.</h2> +<h2 class="main">The Soothsayer’s Son.</h2> +<div class="epigraph"> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line"><span lang= +"sa">जन्मप्रभृति +दारिद्र्यं +दशवर्षाणि +बन्धनम्‌ +।</span></p> +<p class="line"><span lang= +"sa">समुद्रतीरे +मरेणं +किञ्चित्‌ +भोगं +भविष्यति +॥</span></p> +</div> +</div> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Thus a Soothsayer when on his death-bed wrote the +horoscope of his second son, and bequeathed it to him as his only +property, leaving the whole of his estate to his eldest son. The second +son pondered over the horoscope, and fell into the following +reflections:—</p> +<p>“Alas, am I born to this only in the world? The sayings of my +father never failed. I have seen them prove true to the last word while +he was living; and how has he fixed my horoscope! <i lang= +"sa-latn">Janma parabhṛiti dâridryam!</i> From my birth +poverty! Nor is that my only fate. <i lang="sa-latn">Daśa +varshâṇi bandhanam</i>: for ten years, imprisonment—a +fate harder than poverty; and what comes next? <i lang= +"sa-latn">Samudratîrê maraṇam</i>: death on the +sea-shore; which means that I must die away from home, far from friends +and relatives on a sea-coast. The misery has reached its extreme height +here. Now comes the funniest part of the <span class="pagenum">[<a id= +"pb12" href="#pb12" name="pb12">12</a>]</span>horoscope, <i lang= +"sa-latn">Kiñchit <span class="corr" id="xd20e680" title= +"Source: bhógam">bhôgam</span> bhavishyati</i>—that +I am to have some happiness afterwards! What this happiness is, is an +enigma to me: To die first, to be happy for some time after! What +happiness? Is it the happiness of this world? So it must be. For +however clever one may be, he cannot foretell what may take place in +the other world. Therefore it must be the happiness of this world; and +how can that be possible after my death? It is impossible. I think my +father has only meant this as a consoling conclusion to the series of +calamities that he has prophesied. Three portions of his prophecy must +prove true; the fourth and last is a mere comforting statement to bear +patiently the calamities enumerated, and never to prove true. Therefore +let me go to Bânâras, bathe in the holy Gaṅgâ, +wash away my sins, and prepare myself for my end. Let me avoid +sea-coasts, lest death meet me there in accordance with my +father’s words. Come imprisonment: I am prepared for it for ten +years.”</p> +<p>Thus thought he, and after all the funeral obsequies of his father +were over, took leave of his elder brother, and started for +Bânâras.<a class="noteref" id="xd20e686src" href= +"#xd20e686" name="xd20e686src">1</a> He went by the middle of the +Dakhaṇ,<a class="noteref" id="xd20e689src" href="#xd20e689" name= +"xd20e689src">2</a> avoiding both the coasts, and went on journeying +and journeying <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb13" href="#pb13" name= +"pb13">13</a>]</span>for weeks and months, till at last he reached the +Vindhya mountains. While passing that desert he had to journey for a +couple of days through a sandy plain, with no signs of life or +vegetation. The little store of provision with which he was provided +for a couple of days, at last was exhausted. The +<i>chombu</i>,<a class="noteref" id="xd20e697src" href="#xd20e697" +name="xd20e697src">3</a> which he carried always full, replenishing it +with the sweet water from the flowing rivulet or plenteous tank, he had +exhausted in the heat of the desert. There was not a morsel in his hand +to eat; nor a drop of water to drink. Turn his eyes wherever he might +he found a vast desert, out of which he saw no means of escape. Still +he thought within himself, “Surely my father’s prophecy +never proved untrue. I must survive this calamity to find my death on +some sea-coast.” So thought he, and this thought gave him +strength of mind to walk fast and try to find a drop of water somewhere +to slake his dry throat. At last he succeeded, or rather thought that +he succeeded. Heaven threw in his way a ruined well. He thought that he +could collect some water if he let down his <i>chombu</i> with the +string that he always carried noosed to the neck of it. Accordingly he +let it down; it went some way and stopped, and the following words came +from the well, “Oh, relieve me! I am the king of tigers, +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb14" href="#pb14" name= +"pb14">14</a>]</span>dying here of hunger. For the last three days I +have had nothing. Fortune has sent you here. If you assist me now you +will find a sure help in me throughout your life. Do not think that I +am a beast of prey. When you have become my deliverer I can never touch +you. Pray, kindly lift me up.” Gaṅgâdhara, for that +was the name of the Soothsayer’s second son, found himself in a +very perplexing position. “Shall I take him out or not? If I take +him out he may make me the first morsel of his hungry mouth. No; that +he will not do. For my father’s prophecy never came untrue. I +must die on a sea-coast and not by a tiger.” Thus thinking, he +asked the tiger king to hold tight to the vessel, which he accordingly +did, and he lifted him up slowly. The tiger reached the top of the well +and felt himself on safe ground. True to his word he did no harm to +Gaṅgâdhara. On the other hand, he walked round his patron +three times, and standing before him, humbly spoke the following +words:—“My life-giver, my benefactor! I shall never forget +this day, when I regained my life through your kind hands. In return +for this kind assistance I pledge my oath to stand by you in all +calamities. Whenever you are in any difficulty just think of me. I am +there with you ready to oblige you by all the means that I can. To tell +you briefly how I came in here:—Three days ago I was roaming +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb15" href="#pb15" name= +"pb15">15</a>]</span>in yonder forest, when I saw a goldsmith passing +through it. I chased him. He, finding it impossible to escape my claws, +jumped into this well, and is living to this moment in the very bottom +of it. I also jumped in, but found myself in the first storey;<a class= +"noteref" id="xd20e708src" href="#xd20e708" name="xd20e708src">4</a> he +is on the last and fourth storey. In the second storey lives a serpent +half-famished with hunger. In the third storey lies a rat, similarly +half-famished, and when you again begin to draw water these may request +you first to release them. In the same way the goldsmith also may +request. I tell you, as your bosom friend, never assist that wretched +man, though he is your relation as a human being. Goldsmiths are never +to be trusted. You can place more faith in me, a tiger, though I feast +sometimes upon men, in a serpent whose sting makes your blood cold the +very next moment, or in a rat, which does a thousand pieces of mischief +in your house. But never trust a goldsmith. Do not release him; and if +you do, you shall surely repent of it one day or other.” Thus +advising, the hungry tiger went away without waiting for an answer.</p> +<p>Gaṅgâdhara thought several times of the eloquent +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb16" href="#pb16" name= +"pb16">16</a>]</span>way in which the tiger addressed him, and admired +his fluency of speech. His thirst was not quenched. So he let down his +vessel again, which was now caught hold of by the serpent, who +addressed him thus:—“Oh my protector! Lift me up. I am the +king of serpents, and the son of Âdiśêsha,<a class= +"noteref" id="xd20e715src" href="#xd20e715" name="xd20e715src">5</a> +who is now pining away in agony for my disappearance. Release me now. I +shall ever remain your servant, remember your assistance, and help you +throughout life in all possible ways. Oblige me: I am dying.” +Gaṅgâdhara, calling again to mind the +<i>Samudratîrê maraṇam</i>—death on the +sea-shore—lifted him up. He, like the tiger-king, walked round +him thrice, and prostrating himself before him spoke +thus:—“Oh, my life-giver, my father, for so I must call +you, as you have given me another birth. I have already told you that I +am Âdiśêsha’s son, and that I am the king of +serpents. I was three days ago basking myself in the morning sun, when +I saw a rat running before me. I chased him. He fell into this well. I +followed him, but instead of falling on the third storey where he is +now lying, I fell into the second. It was on the same evening that the +goldsmith also fell down into the fourth storey, and the tiger whom you +released just before me fell down into the first. What I have to +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb17" href="#pb17" name= +"pb17">17</a>]</span>tell you now is—do not relieve the +goldsmith, though you may release the rat. As a rule, goldsmiths are +never to be trusted. I am going away now to see my father. Whenever you +are in any difficulty just think of me. I will be there by your side to +assist you by all possible means. If, notwithstanding my repeated +advice, you happen to release the goldsmith, you shall suffer for it +severely.” So saying, the Nâgarâja (serpent-king) +glided away in zigzag movements, and was out of sight in a moment.</p> +<p>The poor son of the Soothsayer who was now almost dying of thirst, +and was even led to think that the messengers of death were near him, +notwithstanding his firm belief in the words of his father let down his +vessel for a third time. The rat caught hold of it, and without +discussing, he lifted up the poor animal at once. But it would not go +away without showing its gratitude—“Oh life of my life! My +benefactor! I am the king of rats. Whenever you are in any calamity +just think of me. I will come to you, and assist you. My keen ears +overheard all that the tiger-king and serpent-king told you about the +Svarṇataskara<a class="noteref" id="xd20e725src" href="#xd20e725" +name="xd20e725src">6</a> (<i>gold-smith</i>), who is in <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb18" href="#pb18" name="pb18">18</a>]</span>the +fourth storey. It is nothing but a sad truth that goldsmiths ought +never to be trusted. Therefore never assist him as you have done to us +all. And if you do, you shall feel it. I am hungry; let me go for the +present.” Thus taking leave of his benefactor, the rat, too, ran +away.</p> +<p>Gaṅgâdhara for a while thought upon the repeated advice +given by the three animals about releasing the goldsmith, “What +wrong would there be in my assisting him? Why should I not release him +also?” So thinking to himself, Gaṅgâdhara let down +the vessel again. The goldsmith caught hold of it, and demanded help. +The Soothsayer’s son had no time to lose; he was himself dying of +thirst. Therefore he lifted the goldsmith up, who now began his +story:—“Stop for a while,” said +Gaṅgâdhara, and after quenching his thirst by letting down +his vessel for the fifth time, still fearing that some one might remain +in the well and demand his assistance, he listened to the goldsmith, +who began as follows:—“My dear friend, my protector, what a +deal of nonsense these brutes have been talking to you about me; I am +glad you have not followed their advice. I am just now dying of hunger. +Permit me to go away. My name is +Mâṇikkâśâri. I live in the East main +street of Ujjaini which is twenty <i>kâs</i><a class="noteref" +id="xd20e737src" href="#xd20e737" name="xd20e737src">7</a> to the +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb19" href="#pb19" name= +"pb19">19</a>]</span>south of this place, and so lies on your way when +you return from Bânâras. Do not forget to come to me and +receive my kind remembrances of your assistance, on your way back to +your country.” So saying the goldsmith took his leave, and +Gaṅgâdhara also pursued his way north after the above +adventures.</p> +<p>He reached Bânâras, and lived there for more than ten +years, spending his time in bathing, prayers, and other religious +ceremonies. He quite forgot the tiger, serpent, rat, and goldsmith. +After ten years of religious life, thoughts of home and of his brother +rushed into his mind. “I have secured enough merit now by my +religious observances. Let me return home.” Thus thought +Gaṅgâdhara within himself, and immediately he was on his +way back to his country. Remembering the prophecy of his father he +returned by the same way by which he went to Bânâras ten +years before. While thus retracing his steps he reached the ruined well +where he had released the three brute kings and the goldsmith. At once +the old recollections rushed into his mind, and he thought of the tiger +to test his fidelity. Only a moment passed, and the tiger-king came +running before him carrying a large crown in his mouth, the glitter of +the diamonds of which for a time outshone even the bright rays of the +sun. He dropped the crown at his life-giver’s <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb20" href="#pb20" name="pb20">20</a>]</span>feet, +and putting aside all his pride, humbled himself like a pet cat to the +strokes of his protector, and began in the following +words:—“My life-giver! How is it that you have forgotten +me, your poor servant, for such a long time? I am glad to find that I +still occupy a corner in your mind. I can never forget the day when I +owed my life to your lotus hands. I have several jewels with me of +little value. This crown, being the best of all, I have brought here as +a single ornament of great value, and hence easily portable and useful +to you in your own country.” Gaṅgâdhara looked at the +crown, examined it over and over, counted and recounted the gems, and +thought within himself that he would become the richest of men by +separating the diamonds and gold, and selling them in his own country. +He took leave of the tiger-king, and after his disappearance thought of +the kings of serpents and rats, who came in their turns with their +presents, and after the usual formalities and exchange of words took +their leave. Gaṅgâdhara was extremely delighted at the +faithfulness with which the brute beasts behaved themselves, and went +on his way to the south. While going along he spoke to himself +thus:—“These beasts have been so very faithful in their +assistance. Much more, therefore, must +Mâṇikkâśâri be faithful. I do not want +anything from him now. If I take this crown with me as it is, it +occupies <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb21" href="#pb21" name= +"pb21">21</a>]</span>much space in my bundle. It may also excite the +curiosity of some robbers on the way. I will go now to Ujjaini on my +way, Mâṇikkâśâri requested me to see him +without failure on my return journey. I shall do so, and request him to +have the crown melted, the diamonds and gold separated. He must do that +kindness at least for me. I shall then roll up these diamonds and gold +ball in my rags, and bend my way homewards.” Thus thinking and +thinking he reached Ujjaini. At once he enquired for the house of his +goldsmith friend, and found him without difficulty. +Mâṇikkâśâri was extremely delighted to +find on his threshold him who ten years before, notwithstanding the +advice repeatedly given him by the sage-looking tiger, serpent, and +rat, had relieved him from the pit of death. Gaṅgâdhara at +once showed him the crown that he received from the tiger-king, told +him how he got it, and requested his kind assistance to separate the +gold and diamonds. Mâṇikkâśâri agreed to +do so, and meanwhile asked his friend to rest himself for a while to +have his bath and meals; and Gaṅgâdhara, who was very +observant of his religious ceremonies, went direct to the river to +bathe.</p> +<p>How came a crown in the jaws of a tiger? It is not a difficult +question to solve. A king must have furnished the table of the tiger +for a day or two. Had it not been for that, the tiger could not have +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb22" href="#pb22" name= +"pb22">22</a>]</span>had a crown with him. Even so it was. The king of +Ujjaini had a week before gone with all his hunters on a hunting +expedition. All of a sudden a tiger—as we know now, the very +tiger-king himself—started from the wood, seized the king, and +vanished. The hunters returned and informed the prince about the sad +calamity that had befallen his father. They all saw the tiger carrying +away the king. Yet such was their courage that they could not lift +their weapons to bring to the prince the corpse at least of his +father.</p> +<p>When they informed the prince about the death of his father he wept +and wailed, and gave notice that he would give half of his kingdom to +any one who should bring him news about the murderer of his father. The +prince did not at all believe that his father was devoured by the +tiger. His belief was that some hunters, coveting the ornaments on the +king’s person, had murdered him. Hence he had issued the notice. +The goldsmith knew full well that it was a tiger that killed the king, +and not any hunter’s hands, since he had heard from +Gaṅgâdhara about how he obtained the crown. Still, ambition +to get half the kingdom prevailed, and he resolved with himself to make +over Gaṅgâdhara as the king’s murderer. The crown was +lying on the floor where Gaṅgâdhara left it with his full +confidence in Mâṇikkâśâri. Before his +protector’s <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb23" href="#pb23" +name="pb23">23</a>]</span>return the goldsmith, hiding the crown under +his garments, flew to the palace. He went before the prince and +informed him that the assassin was caught, and placed the crown before +him. The prince took it into his hands, examined it, and at once gave +half the kingdom to Mâṇikkâśâri, and then +enquired about the murderer. “He is bathing in the river, and is +of such and such appearance,” was the reply. At once four armed +soldiers fly to the river, and bound the poor Brâhmaṇ hand +and foot, he sitting in meditation the while, without any knowledge of +the fate that hung over him. They brought Gaṅgâdhara to the +presence of the prince, who turned his face away from the murderer or +supposed murderer, and asked his soldiers to throw him into the +<i>kârâgṛiham</i>.<a class="noteref" id="xd20e763src" +href="#xd20e763" name="xd20e763src">8</a> In a minute, without knowing +the cause, the poor Brâhmaṇ found himself in the dark caves +of the <i>kârâgṛiham</i>.</p> +<p>In old times the <i>kârâgṛiham</i> answered the +purposes of the modern jail. It was a dark cellar underground, built +with strong stone walls, into which any criminal guilty of a capital +offence was ushered to breathe his last there without food and drink. +Such was the cellar into which Gaṅgâdhara was thrust. In a +few hours after he left the goldsmith he found himself inside a dark +cell stinking with <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb24" href="#pb24" +name="pb24">24</a>]</span>human bodies, dying and dead. What were his +thoughts when he reached that place? “It is the goldsmith that +has brought me to this wretched state; and, as for the prince: Why +should he not enquire as to how I obtained the crown? It is of no use +to accuse either the goldsmith or the prince now. We are all the +children of fate. We must obey her commands. +<i>Daśavarshâṇi Bandhanam.</i> This is but the first +day of my father’s prophecy<span class="corr" id="xd20e779" +title="Not in source">.</span> So far his statement is true. But how am +I going to pass ten years here? Perhaps without anything to sustain +life I may drag on my existence for a day or two. But how pass ten +years? That cannot be, and I must die. Before death comes let me think +of my faithful brute friends.”</p> +<p>So pondered Gaṅgâdhara in the dark cell underground, and +at that moment thought of his three friends. The tiger-king, +serpent-king, and rat-king assembled at once with their armies at a +garden near the <i>kârâgṛiham</i>, and for a while +did not know what to do. A common cause—how to reach their +protector, who was now in the dark cell underneath—united them +all. They held their council, and decided to make an underground +passage from the inside of a ruined well to the +<i>kârâgṛiham</i>. The rat <i>râjâ</i> +issued an order at once to that effect to his army. They, with their +nimble teeth, bored the ground a long way to the walls of the prison. +After <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb25" href="#pb25" name= +"pb25">25</a>]</span>reaching it they found that their teeth could not +work on the hard stones. The bandicoots were then specially ordered for +the business; they, with their hard teeth, made a small slit in the +wall for a rat to pass and repass without difficulty. Thus a passage +was effected.</p> +<p>The rat <i>râjâ</i> entered first to condole with his +protector on his misfortune. The king of the tigers sent word through +the snake-king that he sympathised most sincerely with his sorrow, and +that he was ready to render all help for his deliverance. He suggested +a means for his escape also. The serpent <i>râjâ</i> went +in, and gave Gaṅgâdhara hopes of delivery. The rat-king +undertook to supply his protector with provisions. “Whatever +sweetmeats or bread are prepared in any house, one and all of you must +try to bring whatever you can to our benefactor. Whatever clothes you +find hanging in a house, cut down, dip the pieces in water, and bring +the wet bits to our benefactor. He will squeeze them and gather water +for drink! and the bread and sweetmeats shall form his food.” +Having issued these orders the king of the rats, took leave of +Gaṅgâdhara. They, in obedience to their king’s order, +continued to supply provisions and water.</p> +<p>The Nâgarâja said:—“I sincerely condole with +you in your calamity; the tiger-king also fully sympathises with you, +and wants me to tell you so, as <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb26" +href="#pb26" name="pb26">26</a>]</span>he cannot drag his huge body +here as we have done with our small ones. The king of the rats has +promised to do his best to provide you with food. We would now do what +we can for your release. From this day we shall issue orders to our +armies to oppress all the subjects of this kingdom. The percentage of +death by snake-bite and tigers shall increase from this day. And day by +day it shall continue to increase till your release. After eating what +the rats bring you, you had better take your seat near the entrance of +the <i>kârâgṛiham</i>. Owing to the many sudden +deaths that will occur some people that walk over the prison may say, +‘How wicked the king has become. Were it not for his wickedness +so many dreadful deaths by snake-bites could never occur.’ +Whenever you hear people speaking so, you had better bawl out so as to +be heard by them, ‘The wretched prince imprisoned me on the false +charge of having killed his father, while it was a tiger that killed +him. From that day these calamities have broken out in his dominions. +If I were released I would save all by my powers of healing poisonous +wounds and by incantations.’ Some one may report this to the +king, and if he knows it, you will obtain your liberty.” Thus +comforting his protector in trouble, he advised him to pluck up +courage, and took leave of him. From that day tigers and serpents, +acting under the special <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb27" href= +"#pb27" name="pb27">27</a>]</span>orders of their kings, united in +killing as many persons and cattle as possible. Every day people were +carried away by tigers or bitten by serpents. This havoc continued. +Gaṅgâdhara went on roaring as loud he could that he would +save those lives, had he only his liberty. Few heard him. The few that +did took his words for the voice of a ghost. “How could he manage +to live without food and drink for so long a time?” said the +persons walking over his head to each other. Thus passed months and +years. Gaṅgâdhara sat in the dark cellar, without the +sun’s light falling upon him, and feasted upon the bread-crumbs +and sweetmeats that the rats so kindly supplied him with. These +circumstances had completely changed his body. He had become a red, +stout, huge, unwieldy lump of flesh. Thus passed full ten years, as +prophesied in the horoscope—<i>Daśavarshâṇi +Bandhanam</i>.</p> +<p>Ten complete years rolled away in close imprisonment. On the last +evening of the tenth year one of the serpents got into the bed-chamber +of the princess and sucked her life. She breathed her last. She was the +only daughter of the king. He had no other issue—son or daughter. +His only hope was in her; and she was snatched away by a cruel and +untimely death. The king at once sent for all the snake-bite curers. He +promised half his kingdom and his daughter’s hand to him who +would <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb28" href="#pb28" name= +"pb28">28</a>]</span>restore her to life. Now it was that a servant of +the king, who had several times overheard +Gaṅgâdhara’s cries, reported the matter to him. The +king at once ordered the cell to be examined. There was the man sitting +in it. How has he managed to live so long in the cell? Some whispered +that he must be a divine being. Some concluded that he must surely win +the hand of the princess by restoring her to life. Thus they discussed, +and the discussions brought Gaṅgâdhara to the king.</p> +<p>The king no sooner saw Gaṅgâdhara than he fell on the +ground. He was struck by the majesty and grandeur of his person. His +ten years’ imprisonment in the deep cell underground had given a +sort of lustre to his body, which was not to be met with in ordinary +persons. His hair had first to be cut before his face could be seen. +The king begged forgiveness for his former fault, and requested him to +revive his daughter.</p> +<p>“Bring me in a <i>muhûrta</i><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e825src" href="#xd20e825" name="xd20e825src">9</a> all the corpses +of men and cattle, dying and dead, that remain unburnt or unburied +within the range of your dominions; I shall revive them all,” +were the only words that Gaṅgâdhara spoke. After it he +closed his lips as if in deep meditation, which commanded more respect +than ever. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb29" href="#pb29" name= +"pb29">29</a>]</span></p> +<p>Cart-loads of corpses of men and cattle began to come in every +minute. Even graves, it is said, were broken open, and corpses buried a +day or two before were taken out and sent for the revival. As soon as +all were ready, Gaṅgâdhara took a vessel full of water and +sprinkled it over them all, thinking only of his Nâgarâja +and Vyâghrarâja.<a class="noteref" id="xd20e831src" href= +"#xd20e831" name="xd20e831src">10</a> All rose up as if from deep +slumber, and went to their respective homes. The princess, too, was +restored to life. The joy of the king knew no bounds. He cursed the day +on which he imprisoned him, blamed himself for having believed the word +of a goldsmith, and offered him the hand of his daughter and the whole +kingdom, instead of half as he promised. Gaṅgâdhara would +not accept anything. The king requested him to put a stop for ever to +these calamities. He agreed to do so, and asked the king to assemble +all his subjects in a wood near the town. “I shall there call in +all the tigers and serpents and give them a general order.” So +said Gaṅgâdhara, and the king accordingly gave the order. +In a couple of <i><span class="corr" id="xd20e835" title= +"Source: ghaṭikas">ghaṭikâs</span></i><a class= +"noteref" id="xd20e837src" href="#xd20e837" name="xd20e837src">11</a> +the wood near Ujjaini was full of people, who assembled to witness the +authority of man over such enemies of human beings as tigers and +serpents. “He is no man; be sure of that. <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb30" href="#pb30" name="pb30">30</a>]</span>How +could he have managed to live for ten years without food and drink? He +is surely a god.” Thus speculated the mob.</p> +<p>When the whole town was assembled, just at the dusk of evening, +Gaṅgâdhara sat dumb for a moment, and thought upon the +Vyâghrarâja and Nâgarâja, who came running with +all their armies. People began to take to their heels at the sight of +tigers. Gaṅgâdhara assured them of safety, and stopped +them.</p> +<p>The grey light of the evening, the pumpkin colour of +Gaṅgâdhara, the holy ashes scattered lavishly over his +body, the tigers and snakes humbling themselves at his feet, gave him +the true majesty of the god Gaṅgâdhara.<a class="noteref" +id="xd20e851src" href="#xd20e851" name="xd20e851src">12</a> For who +else by a single word could thus command vast armies of tigers and +serpents, said some among the people. “Care not for it; it may be +by magic. That is not a great thing. That he revived cart-loads of +corpses makes him surely Gaṅgâdhara,” said others. +The scene produced a very great effect upon the minds of the mob.</p> +<p>“Why should you, my children, thus trouble these poor subjects +of Ujjaini? Reply to me, and henceforth desist from your +ravages.” Thus said the Soothsayer’s son, and the following +reply came from the king of the tigers; “Why should this base +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb31" href="#pb31" name= +"pb31">31</a>]</span>king imprison your honour, believing the mere word +of a goldsmith that your honour killed his father? All the hunters told +him that his father was carried away by a tiger. I was the messenger of +death sent to deal the blow on his neck. I did it, and gave the crown +to your honour. The prince makes no enquiry, and at once imprisons your +honour. How can we expect justice from such a stupid king as that? +Unless he adopts a better standard of justice we will go on with our +destruction.”</p> +<p>The king heard, cursed the day on which he believed in the word of a +goldsmith, beat his head, tore his hair, wept and wailed for his crime, +asked a thousand pardons, and swore to rule in a just way from that +day. The serpent-king and tiger-king also promised to observe their +oath as long as justice prevailed, and took their leave. The goldsmith +fled for his life. He was caught by the soldiers of the king, and was +pardoned by the generous Gaṅgâdhara, whose voice now +reigned supreme. All returned to their homes.</p> +<p>The king again pressed Gaṅgâdhara to accept the hand of +his daughter. He agreed to do so, not then, but some time afterwards. +He wished to go and see his elder brother first, and then to return and +marry the princess. The king agreed; and Gaṅgâdhara left +the city that very day on his way home. <span class="pagenum">[<a id= +"pb32" href="#pb32" name="pb32">32</a>]</span></p> +<p>It so happened that unwittingly he took a wrong road, and had to +pass near a sea coast. His elder brother was also on his way up to +Bânâras by that very same route. They met and recognised +each other, even at a distance. They flew into each other’s +arms<span class="corr" id="xd20e865" title="Source: ,">.</span> Both +remained still for a time almost unconscious with joy. The emotion of +pleasure (<i>ânanda</i>) was so great, especially in +Gaṅgâdhara, that it proved dangerous to his life. In a +word, he died of joy.</p> +<p>The sorrow of the elder brother could better be imagined than +described. He saw again his lost brother, after having given up, as it +were, all hopes of meeting him. He had not even asked him his +adventures. That he should be snatched away by the cruel hand of death +seemed unbearable to him. He wept and wailed, took the corpse on his +lap, sat under a tree, and wetted it with tears. But there was no hope +of his dead brother coming to life again.</p> +<p>The elder brother was a devout worshipper of +Gaṇapati.<a class="noteref" id="xd20e875src" href="#xd20e875" +name="xd20e875src">13</a> That was a Friday, a day very sacred to that +god. The elder brother took the corpse to the nearest +Gaṇêśa<a class="noteref" id="xd20e878src" href= +"#xd20e878" name="xd20e878src">14</a> temple and called upon him. The +god came, and asked him what he wanted. “My poor brother is dead +and gone; and this is <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb33" href="#pb33" +name="pb33">33</a>]</span>his corpse. Kindly keep it in your charge +till I finish worshipping you. If I leave it anywhere else the devils +may snatch it away when I am absent worshipping you; after finishing +your <i>pûjâ</i><a class="noteref" id="xd20e888src" href= +"#xd20e888" name="xd20e888src">15</a> I shall burn him.” Thus +said the elder brother, and, giving the corpse to the god +Gaṇêśa, he went to prepare himself for that +deity’s ceremonials. Gaṇêśa made over the corpse +to his <i>Gaṇas</i>,<a class="noteref" id="xd20e895src" href= +"#xd20e895" name="xd20e895src">16</a> asking them to watch over it +carefully.</p> +<p>So a spoiled child receives a fruit from its father, who, when he +gives it the fruit asks the child to keep it safe. The child thinks +within itself, “My father will forgive me if I eat a portion of +it.” So saying it eats a portion, and when it finds it so sweet, +it eats the whole, saying, “Come what will, what can father do, +after all, if I eat it? Perhaps give me a stroke or two on the back. +Perhaps he may forgive me.” In the same way these +<i>Gaṇas</i> of Gaṇapati first ate a portion of the corpse, +and when they found it sweet, for we know it was crammed up with the +sweetmeats of the kind rats, devoured the whole, and began consulting +about the best excuse possible to offer to their master.</p> +<p>The elder brother, after finishing the <i>pûjâ</i>, +demanded his brother’s corpse of the god. The <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb34" href="#pb34" name="pb34">34</a>]</span>god +called his <i>Gaṇas</i> who came to the front blinking, and +fearing the anger of their master. The god was greatly enraged. The +elder brother was very angry. When the corpse was not forthcoming he +cuttingly remarked, “Is this, after all, the return for my deep +belief in you? You are unable even to return my brother’s +corpse.” Gaṇêśa was much ashamed at the remark, +and at the uneasiness that he had caused to his worshipper. So he, by +his divine power, gave him a living Gaṅgâdhara instead of +the dead corpse. Thus was the second son of the Soothsayer restored to +life.</p> +<p>The brothers had a long talk about each other’s adventures. +They both went to Ujjaini, where Gaṅgâdhara married the +princess, and succeeded to the throne of that kingdom. He reigned for a +long time, conferring several benefits upon his brother. How is the +horoscope to be interpreted? A special synod of Soothsayers was held. A +thousand emendations were suggested. Gaṅgâdhara would not +accept them. At last one Soothsayer cut the knot by stopping at a +different place in reading, “<i>Samudra tîrê +maraṇam kiñchit</i>.” “On the sea-shore death +for <i>some time</i>. Then “<i>Bhôgam +bhavishyati</i>.” “There shall be happiness for the person +concerned.” Thus the passage was interpreted. “Yes; my +father’s words never went wrong,” said +Gaṅgâdhara. The three <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb35" +href="#pb35" name="pb35">35</a>]</span>brute kings continued their +visits often to the Soothsayer’s son, the then king of Ujjaini. +Even the faithless goldsmith became a frequent visitor at the palace, +and a receiver of several benefits from royal hands. <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb36" href="#pb36" name="pb36">36</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e686" href="#xd20e686src" name="xd20e686">1</a></span> In English, +Benares.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e689" href="#xd20e689src" name="xd20e689">2</a></span> The +Deccan.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e697" href="#xd20e697src" name="xd20e697">3</a></span> A small +vessel.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e708" href="#xd20e708src" name="xd20e708">4</a></span> Storey is +here put for divisions in an Indian well. These divisions are little +projecting ledges of stone made for natives to stand on so that they +can get down close to the water if the well is not full. There are +sometimes six or seven divisions, or ledges, of this sort.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e715" href="#xd20e715src" name="xd20e715">5</a></span> The first +serpent—the king of serpents.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e725" href="#xd20e725src" name="xd20e725">6</a></span> Literally +the stealer of gold—a practice very common in India among that +class. There is a proverb to the effect that even from the gold given +by their mothers to be turned into jewels, they will pilfer a +little.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e737" href="#xd20e737src" name="xd20e737">7</a></span> The +distance of a <i>kâs</i> being equal to 2000 Indian poles.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e763" href="#xd20e763src" name="xd20e763">8</a></span> +Dungeon.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e825" href="#xd20e825src" name="xd20e825">9</a></span> A period of +time equal to an hour and a half.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e831" href="#xd20e831src" name="xd20e831">10</a></span> King of +tigers.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e837" href="#xd20e837src" name="xd20e837">11</a></span> A +<i><span class="corr" id="xd20e840" title= +"Source: ghaṭika">ghaṭikâ</span></i> is equal to +twenty-four minutes.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e851" href="#xd20e851src" name="xd20e851">12</a></span> +Śiva.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e875" href="#xd20e875src" name="xd20e875">13</a></span> The eldest +son of Śiva commonly known as the belly god.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e878" href="#xd20e878src" name="xd20e878">14</a></span> Another +name of <span class="corr" id="xd20e880" title= +"Source: Ganapṭi">Gaṇapati</span>.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e888" href="#xd20e888src" name="xd20e888">15</a></span> +Worship.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e895" href="#xd20e895src" name="xd20e895">16</a></span> Attendants +of <span class="corr" id="xd20e897" title= +"Source: Ganésa">Gaṇêśa</span>.</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch4" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="label">IV.</h2> +<h2 class="main">Raṇavîrasiṅg.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Once upon a time in the town of +Vañjaimânagar,<a class="noteref" id="xd20e937src" href= +"#xd20e937" name="xd20e937src">1</a> there ruled a king, named +Śivâchâr. He was a most just king, and ruled so well +that no stone thrown up fell down, no crow pecked at the new drawn +milk, the lion and the bull drank water from the same pond, and peace +and prosperity reigned throughout the kingdom. Notwithstanding all +these blessings, care always sat on his face. The fruit which makes +life in this world sweet, the redeemer to him from the horrible +<i>Naraka</i> of <i>Put</i>,<a class="noteref" id="xd20e946src" href= +"#xd20e946" name="xd20e946src">2</a> a Putra,<a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e957src" href="#xd20e957" name="xd20e957src">3</a> he had not. His +days and nights he spent in praying that God might bless him with a +son. Wherever he saw <i><span class="corr" id="xd20e970" title= +"Source: pipal">pîpal</span></i> trees +(<i>Aśvattharâjas</i>),<a class="noteref" id="xd20e976src" +href="#xd20e976" name="xd20e976src">4</a> he ordered <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb37" href="#pb37" name= +"pb37">37</a>]</span>Brâhmaṇs to surround them. Whatever +medicines the doctors recommended he was ever ready to swallow, however +bitter they might be. “Eat even dung to get a son,” says +the proverb, and accordingly he did every thing to secure that +happiness, but all in vain.</p> +<p>Śivâchâr had a minister, named Kharavadana, a most +wicked tyrant as ever lived in the world. The thought that the king was +without an heir, and had no hopes of one, awakened in his mind the +ambition of securing for his family the throne of <span class="corr" +id="xd20e984" title= +"Source: Vaṅjaimânagar">Vañjaimânagar</span>. +Śivâchâr knew this well. But what could he do. His +only care was to send up additional prayers to frustrate the thoughts +of Kharavadana, and to secure for himself a good position after death, +without undergoing the severe torments of the <i>Put</i>-hell.</p> +<p>At last fortune favoured Śivâchâr; for what +religious man fails to secure his desire? The king in his sixtieth year +had a son. His joy can better be imagined than described. Lacs +(Lâkhs) of Brâhmaṇs were fed in honour of the +son-birth festival, <i>Putrôtsavam</i>, as it is technically +called. The state prisons were opened, and all the prisoners let loose. +Thousands of kine and innumerable acres of land were offered to +Brâhmaṇs, and every kind of charity was duly practised. The +ten days of the <i>Sûtikâgṛihavâsa</i> +(confinement) were over. On the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb38" +href="#pb38" name="pb38">38</a>]</span>eleventh day the father saw his +much longed-for son’s face, and read on the lines of it great +prosperity, learning, valour, goodness and every excellent quality.</p> +<p>The cradle-swinging, naming, and other ceremonies were duly +performed, and the prince grew up under the great care generally shown +to a king’s son. His name the elders fixed as Sundara.<a class= +"noteref" id="xd20e1002src" href="#xd20e1002" name="xd20e1002src">5</a> +The minister whose only wish was to get the throne for his family, was +much disappointed at the birth of a son to his master. The whole +kingdom rejoiced at the event, and the minister was the only man who +was sorry. When one is disappointed in his high hopes and expectations, +he devises plans to take away the barrier that lies in his way. Even +so, Kharavadana said to himself, “Let me see how affairs +progress. The old king is near his grave. When he dies, leaving a son +in his minority I myself must be his regent for a time. Shall I not +then have opportunity enough of securing for ever for myself and my +family the throne of Vañjaimânagar?” So thought he +within himself, and was quiet for a time.</p> +<p>Śivâchâr, who was a very shrewd man, on several +occasions, read the minister’s mind, and knew very well how his +intentions stood. “This cruel devil <span class="pagenum">[<a id= +"pb39" href="#pb39" name="pb39">39</a>]</span>may murder my only son. I +care not if he usurps the throne. What I fear is, that he may murder +him. <i>Na daivam Śaṅkarât param.</i> No other god but +<span class="corr" id="xd20e1012" title= +"Source: Śankara">Śaṅkara</span>. And he must have his +own way. If it is so written on the prince’s head I cannot avoid +it.” Thus sighed Śivâchâr, and this sorrow +(<i>śôka</i>), made him leaner day by day. Just ten years +after the birth of Sundara, the king fell ill and lay on his +deathbed.</p> +<p>Śivâchâr had a servant, named +Raṇavîrasiṅg, whom he had all along observed to be +very honest and faithful. That servant the king called to his side, and +asking all others except Sundara, who was weeping by his father’s +pillow, to leave the room, addressed him thus:—“My dear +Raṇavîrasiṅg! I have only a few <i><span class="corr" +id="xd20e1021" title= +"Source: ghaṭikas">ghaṭikâs</span></i> before me. +Listen to my words, and act accordingly. There is one God above us all, +who will punish or reward us according to our bad or good acts. If by +avarice or greed of money you ever play false to the trust that I am +going to repose in you that God will surely punish you. It is not +unknown to you what great difficulties I had in getting this only son, +Sundara; how many temples I built, how many Brâhmaṇs I fed, +how many religious austerities I underwent, &c., &c.. God after +all gave me a son.” Here his sorrow prevented him from proceeding +further, and he began to cry aloud, and shed tears. “Do not +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb40" href="#pb40" name= +"pb40">40</a>]</span>weep on my account, father. We cannot wipe off +what was written on our heads. We must undergo happiness or misery as +is thereon written by Brahmâ, cried the prince. +Raṇavîrasiṅg was melted at the sight. He took the boy +on his lap, and with his own upper garment wiped his eyes. The old man +continued, “Thus you, my faithful Raṇavîrasiṅg, +know everything. I now wish that I had not performed all that I did to +get this son. For when I die at this moment, who is there to take care +of him for the next? Kharavadana may devise plan after plan to remove +my boy from this world, and secure the kingdom for himself. My only +hope is in you. I give him into your hands.” Here the aged +father, notwithstanding his illness, rose up a little from his bed, +took hold of his son’s hand, and after kissing it for the last +time, placed it in <span class="corr" id="xd20e1026" title= +"Source: Raṇavîrasiṇg’s">Raṇavîrasiṅg’s</span>. +“Care not if he does not get the kingdom. If you only preserve +him from the wicked hands of the minister whom I have all along seen to +be covetous of the throne, you will do a great work for your old +master. I make you from this moment the lord of my palace. From this +minute you are father, mother, brother, servant, and everything to my +son. Take care that you do not betray your trust.” Thus ended the +king, and sent at once for the minister. When he came he spoke to him +thus, “Kharavadana! See what I am now. Yesterday <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb41" href="#pb41" name="pb41">41</a>]</span>I was on +the throne. To-day, in a few minutes, I must breathe my last. Such is +the uncertainty of life. Man’s good acts alone follow him to the +other world. Take my signet-ring. [Here the king took the ring from off +his finger, and gave it to the minister.] Yours is the throne for the +present, as long as the prince is in his minority. Govern well the +kingdom. When the prince attains his sixteenth year kindly give him +back the throne. Exercise a paternal care over him. Find a good and +intelligent princess for his wife.” Suddenly, before his speech +was quite finished, the king felt the last pangs of death. The +sage-looking minister promised him everything.</p> +<p>Śivâchâr breathed his last. After the usual weeping +and wailing of a Hindû funeral, his corpse was burnt to ashes in +a sandalwood pyre. All his queens—and there were several +scores—committed <i>satî</i><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1035src" href="#xd20e1035" name="xd20e1035src">6</a> with the +corpse. The ceremonies were all regularly conducted, the minister +himself superintended everything.</p> +<p>Kharavadana then succeeded to the throne of +Vañjaimânagar. Raṇavîrasiṅg became the +lord of the palace, and true to his promise exercised all care over his +trust. He was always at the side of <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb42" +href="#pb42" name="pb42">42</a>]</span>Sundara. That he might not lose +the sweetness of boyhood in study and play, +Raṇavîrasiṅg brought to the palace twenty +gentlemen’s sons of good conduct and learning and made them the +prince’s fellow-students. A professor for every branch of +learning was employed to teach the prince and his companions. Sundara +thus received a sound and liberal education, only he was never allowed +to go out of the palace. Raṇavîrasiṅg guarded him +very strictly, and he had every reason to do so. For Kharavadana, as +soon as he became king, had issued a notice that the assassin of +Sundara should have a reward of a <i>karôr</i><a class="noteref" +id="xd20e1044src" href="#xd20e1044" name="xd20e1044src">7</a> mohurs; +and already every avaricious hand was in search of his head. Before the +issue of this notice, Kharavadana found out a good girl and married her +to the prince. She lived with her husband in the palace, and +Raṇavîrasiṅg strictly watched her, as she had been +chosen by the minister. He would not allow Sundara to speak to her. +These strict prohibitions displeased the prince, even with his faithful +servant. But the latter could not help it till he had full confidence +in her. He used to advise Sundara not even to take a betel-leaf from +her hands. But love is blind. So the prince within himself accused his +old guardian; <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb43" href="#pb43" name= +"pb43">43</a>]</span>but he could not help following his orders. Thus +passed on a few years.</p> +<p>Sundara reached his sixteenth year. Nothing happened about the +transference of the kingdom; the prince, almost in imprisonment in the +palace, had forgotten everything about the kingdom. +Raṇavîrasiṅg wished to wait till, as he thought, the +prince had acquired better governing faculties. Thus some time +passed.</p> +<p>Full eight years had elapsed from the death of +Śivâchâr. Sundara was already eighteen, and still he +had not received his kingdom. Nothing was neglected in his education. +Though Raṇavîrasiṅg exercised all paternal care over +him, still it was not to his liking; for he found in him a great +barrier to the pleasures of youth. The only pleasure for the prince, +therefore, was the company of his friends.</p> +<p>One fine evening on the fourteenth day of the dark half of the month +of Vaiśâkha of the <i>Vasanta</i><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1066src" href="#xd20e1066" name="xd20e1066src">8</a> season, the +prince was sitting with his companions in the seventh story of his +mansion viewing the town. The dusk of evening was just throwing her +mantle over the city. People in their several vocations were at that +time ceasing work, and returning home. In the eastern division of the +town the prince saw a big mansion, and just to break the silence asked +his <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb44" href="#pb44" name= +"pb44">44</a>]</span>friends what that was. “That is the +Râjasthânik Kachêri,<a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1071src" href="#xd20e1071" name="xd20e1071src">9</a> a place you +ought to have been sitting in for the last two years. The wretched +minister, Kharavadana, has already usurped your seat; for, if he had +intended to give you back the kingdom he would have done it two years +ago when you reached your sixteenth year. Let us now console ourselves +that God has spared your life till now, notwithstanding all the awards +promised to the taker of your head. Even the proclamation is dying out +of the memory of the people now.” So said one of his friends and +ceased.</p> +<p>These words fell like arrows in the ear of Sundara and troubled him. +Shame that he had been thus treated brought a change of colour over his +face which all his friends perceived, and they felt sorry for having +touched upon the subject. The prince, perceiving that he had played a +woman’s part among his friends, resumed or pretended to resume +his former cheerful countenance, and changed the conversation to some +pleasanter topics. They separated very late that night. Before doing +so, Sundara asked them all to present themselves in the +<i>durbâr</i> hall<a class="noteref" id="xd20e1079src" href= +"#xd20e1079" name="xd20e1079src">10</a> early next morning. At the same +time he also ordered Raṇavîrasiṅg to keep horses +ready for himself and his friends for a morning ride <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb45" href="#pb45" name="pb45">45</a>]</span>through +the town the next day. “I was only waiting to hear such an order +from your own mouth, <i>Mai Bâb Chakravarti</i>!<a class= +"noteref" id="xd20e1087src" href="#xd20e1087" name= +"xd20e1087src">11</a> I was thinking from your retired disposition that +you were not an energetic man. I will have the horses ready.” +Raṇavîrasiṅg at once issued orders to his servants to +keep ready saddled and decked twenty-one horses for the prince and his +companions. He also appointed a certain number of his men to ride in +front of the party.</p> +<p>The morning came. The friends assembled, as promised the previous +evening. The prince and they, after a light breakfast, mounted their +horses. The horsemen rode in front and behind. The prince with his +friends marched in the middle. Raṇavîrasiṅg with +drawn sword rode by his side. The party went through the four main +streets of the town. Every one rose up and paid due respect to their +old king’s son. When passing through the street where the +minister’s mansion was, Raṇavîrasiṅg perceived +that Kharavadana paid no respect to the royal march. This seemed a most +unbearable insult to Raṇavîrasiṅg. He bit his lips, +gnashed his teeth, and wrung his hands. The prince observed all the +mental pains of his faithful guardian, and laughed to himself at his +simplicity. About mid-day the party returned to the palace. The +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb46" href="#pb46" name= +"pb46">46</a>]</span>friends dispersed, and Sundara after the +ceremonies of the new-moon day had a slight dinner, and retired to +rest.</p> +<p>The morning ride was deep in the mind of the prince. Though he +laughed to himself at the simplicity of Raṇavîrasiṅg +when the latter gnashed his teeth in the morning, the insult had left a +stronger and deeper impression in his heart. The day was almost spent. +Sundara took a very light supper, and shut himself up in his bed-room +before the first watch was quite over. Raṇavîrasiṅg, +as usual, watched outside. The prince found his wife sound asleep in +her bed, and without disturbing her he went up and down the room. A +thread-like substance attracted his attention in a corner of the +bed-chamber. On examination he found it to be a thread ladder. He had +not even time to think how it came into the bed-chamber. Just then +Raṇavîrasiṅg had retired for a few minutes to take +his supper. “The old fool is off now to eat; and +Paramêśvara has thrown this ladder in my way. Let me now +escape.” Thus thinking, Sundara came out unobserved by his old +guardian, and ascended to the top of the seventh mansion. From that +place he cast his ladder towards a big tree in the East Main street. On +pulling it he found that it was firmly fixed. “Let me get down, +and Paramêśvara will assist me.” So praying, before +the first watch <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb47" href="#pb47" name= +"pb47">47</a>]</span>was over, the prince got down from his palace, and +was in a few minutes in the East street. The severe watch kept over him +by Raṇavîrasiṅg made it very difficult for him to go +out when he liked, and now by the grace of God, as he thought, he had +escaped that dark new-moon night.</p> +<p>“Life is dear to every one. What can I do if any of the +minister’s men find me out now and murder me? <i>Na daivam +<span class="corr" id="xd20e1102" title= +"Source: Saṅkarât">Śaṅkarât</span> +param.</i> No god but <span class="corr" id="xd20e1106" title= +"Source: Saṅkara">Śaṅkara</span>, and he will now help +me.” Thus thinking he walked to the nearest pyal, and lingered +there till the bustle of the town subsided. Nor was it in vain that he +stopped there. He overheard while there the following conversation take +place between the master and mistress of the house at which he +lingered:—“Console yourself, my wife. What shall we do? +Fate has so willed it on our heads. May Brahmâ<a class="noteref" +id="xd20e1109src" href="#xd20e1109" name="xd20e1109src">12</a> become +without a temple for the evil that he has sent us. When the old king +was living he appreciated my merits, and at every +<i>Saṅkrânti</i><a class="noteref" id="xd20e1114src" href= +"#xd20e1114" name="xd20e1114src">13</a> gave me due +<i>dakshiṇâ</i><a class="noteref" id="xd20e1120src" href= +"#xd20e1120" name="xd20e1120src">14</a> for my knowledge of the +<i>Vêdas</i>.<a class="noteref" id="xd20e1126src" href= +"#xd20e1126" name="xd20e1126src">15</a> Now there reigns a tyrant over +our kingdom. I have been lingering here with the hope that the son of +Śivâchâr would one day come to the throne and +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb48" href="#pb48" name= +"pb48">48</a>]</span>relieve our sufferings. Now that such hope is +altogether gone, I have made up my mind to leave this nasty city, and +go to some good place where there reigns a king who can appreciate our +<i>yôgyatâ</i> (merit).” Of these words Sundara +overheard every syllable, and these supplied the fuel to the fire of +shame and anger that was already burning in his mind. “Let me try +to win back my kingdom. If I succeed, I shall save other lives. If I +die, I alone die. May Paramêśvara help me.” So saying +he walked out of the town, and passed the east gate. The night was as +dark as could be, for it was a new moon night. Clouds were gathering in +the sky, and there were some symptoms of rain.</p> +<p>There was a Gaṇêśa temple on the way. As it was +already drizzling, the prince went inside till the rain should cease. +No sooner had he entered it than he saw two men, who by their +conversation appeared to be shepherds, coming towards that same temple. +They seemed to have been watching their flocks near an adjacent field, +and had come to shelter themselves from the rain in the temple. Sundara +when he saw them, trembled for his life, and crept in. The shepherds +sat down on the verandah, and taking out their bags began to chew +betel-nuts. An idle lizard began to chirp in a corner. To break the +silence, one said to the other, “Well, Râmakôn, I +have heard that you are a great soothsayer and <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb49" href="#pb49" name= +"pb49">49</a>]</span>interpreter of bird sounds and lizard speeches. +Let me know what these chirps of the lizard that we heard just now +mean. Tell me.” Râmakôn replied, “This is news +which I would never have revealed at any other time. But as no fourth +person is likely to be here at this time on a rainy night, let me tell +you that the prince of the town is now lingering here in this temple. +So the lizard says. Hence I said, ‘no fourth person.’ I am +glad that no evil hand has yet been tempted, though such a high price +has been set upon his head. The very fact that he has lived up to this +time unhurt in a tiger’s domain augurs well for his future +prosperity.” Râmakôn had scarcely finished his speech +when the idle lizard again made its chit, chit, and Râmakôn +now asked his friend, Lakshmaṇakôn, for that was the +other’s name, to interpret those sounds. “This has rather a +sad meaning for the prince. The Mantrî<a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1140src" href="#xd20e1140" name="xd20e1140src">16</a> and +Pradhânî<a class="noteref" id="xd20e1143src" href= +"#xd20e1143" name="xd20e1143src">17</a> are coming here in a few +minutes (<i>nimishas</i>), to consult on a secret topic. So says the +lizard,” said Lakshmaṇakôn to Râmakôn, +and at that very moment a light was seen at a distance. “It is +the minister’s carriage. Let us be off. God only must save the +prince.” So saying, they both ran away. <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb50" href="#pb50" name="pb50">50</a>]</span></p> +<p>The feelings of the prince inside were like that of a man who was +being led to the gallows. The bitterest enemy of his life, the minister +himself, was coming to that very place where he was hiding. “I +foolishly accused my old guardian, Raṇavîrasiṅg, and +now I see his good intentions. How I am to be spared from this calamity +Śaṅkara only knows.” Thus thinking, he hurriedly fled +to the inmost part of the temple behind the very image, and sat down +there, still like a stump, without even breathing freely, lest his +breath might reveal him. He had ample time there to admire the sound +knowledge of the shepherds in interpreting the lizard chirps, their +simplicity, their honesty and truthfulness; for, had they been +otherwise, they might at once have caught hold of the prince and made +him over to the tiger minister. True to the interpretation of the +second shepherd, a carriage stopped in front of the +Gaṇêśa temple, and there came out of it the +Mantrî and the Pradhânî. Excepting themselves and, of +course, the carriage driver and, as we know, the prince behind the +Gaṇêśa, there were no others there. Kharavadana and +his subordinate chose that solitary place at the dead of night to hold +secret consultations. The Mantrî spoke first, and one could +easily perceive from his words that he was in a fit of anger. +“Why should the prince be thus allowed to ride free through my +streets? Of the innumerable servants <span class="pagenum">[<a id= +"pb51" href="#pb51" name="pb51">51</a>]</span>who eat our salt was +there not one to cut down that impertinent head?” roared the +minister. The Pradhânî replied, “My king, my lord, +excuse me first for the humble words that I am going to speak before +your honour. We have taken up a kingdom to which we have no right. If +the prince had demanded the throne two years ago, we ought rightfully +to have returned it to him. He never asked, and we did not restore it. +He never troubles us with demands, but lives like a poor subject of the +crown in his own quarters. Such being the case, why should we kill him? +Why should we murder the only son of our old and much-respected king +Śivâchâr? What I beg to suggest to your honour is, +that we should no more trouble ourselves about his poor head.” +The Pradhânî, as he discovered that these words were not to +the taste of Kharavadana, stopped at once without proceeding further, +though he had much to say upon that subject. “Vile wretch! Dare +you preach morals to your superiors. You shall see the result of this, +before the morning dawns,” bawled out the Minister. The +Pradhânî saw that all his excellent advice was like blowing +a horn in a deaf man’s ears. He feared for his own life, and so +at once begged a thousand pardons, and promised to bring the head of +the prince within a week. And as Kharavadana wanted only that, he +spared the Pradhânî. They <span class="pagenum">[<a id= +"pb52" href="#pb52" name="pb52">52</a>]</span>then talked on different +subjects, and prepared to start.</p> +<p>The prince inside, behind the +Gaṇêśavigraha,<a class="noteref" id="xd20e1158src" +href="#xd20e1158" name="xd20e1158src">18</a> was now almost stifled to +death. The short breaths that he inhaled and exhaled were themselves +enough to kill him. Add to that the horrible words that fell on his +ears. For all that he continued to hide himself. Kharavadana and the +Pradhânî finished their conversation and got into the +carriage. Sundara called courage to his assistance, +“Śaṅkara has saved me till now; he may so save me +throughout.” So thinking to himself, he boldly came out of the +temple without making the least noise and sat behind the carriage, and, +as it rolled on, thought again within himself: “I will follow +these, come what may, and find out what more plans they devise against +my life.”</p> +<p>The carriage drove on to the opposite end of the town. It passed the +west gate and entered a big park outside the town. The undaunted prince +followed. In the middle of the park a fine tank was discovered. The +banks looked like day, being lighted up profusely. In the midst of the +tank a small island with a gaudy mansion was seen. Pillars of gold, +sofas of silver and doors of diamonds made it the very +<i>Indralôka</i><a class="noteref" id="xd20e1165src" href= +"#xd20e1165" name="xd20e1165src">19</a> itself. A broad road with +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb53" href="#pb53" name= +"pb53">53</a>]</span>avenues of sweet smelling flowering trees +connected the island with the bank. It was at that road that the +carriage stopped. The prince, before that was reached, had got down and +hid himself under the shade of a tree, to see unobserved all that +passed in the mansion which he had every reason to believe was the +destination of the minister. Kharavadana descended from the carriage +and sent the Pradhânî home. What most astonished the prince +was the absence of male servants in that garden. At the entrance of the +road twenty young females of the most exquisite beauty waited and +conducted Kharavadana through the sweet bower to the mansion. When it +was reached, the minister sat down on a most richly furnished gold +couch, and ordered the females there to bring the queen. Ten females +arranged themselves on each side of an ivory palanquin, and started, +apparently, to bring the queen in it. “These females themselves +resemble Rambhâ,<a class="noteref" id="n64asrc" href="#n64a" +name="n64asrc">20</a> Urvaśî,<a class="pseudonoteref" href= +"#n64a">20</a> &c. A woman who has beauty superior to the heads of +these females must, of course, be of the greatest beauty imaginable in +this world. Let me see her.” Thus thinking, the prince Sundara +anxiously awaited the return of the palanquin. In a few minutes it +came. A female of the most charming beauty jumped briskly out of +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb54" href="#pb54" name= +"pb54">54</a>]</span>it. The minister came running to give his helping +hand to her. Horror of horrors, what sees the prince! It was his own +wife, the very girl that the minister had married to him a few years +before, that got down from the palanquin. “Are my eyes deceived? +Do they perform their functions aright? Let me look once more.” +So again and again wiping his eyes to clear them a little, the prince +saw distinctly. It was his very wife herself. “Oh, I most +foolishly accused that grey-headed guardian for a wicked fool, because +he would not allow me to be friends with my wife. I now see what he saw +a long time ago. Perhaps if I had seen more of her I should have thus +been brought in here by some secret way that these devils seem now to +have to the inmost parts of the palace. If I had taken anything from +her hands I should have died that very day. My poor old man, my +Raṇavîrasiṅg it is, who has saved me from all these +calamities.” These thoughts and a thousand more were passing +through Sundara’s mind when he saw his wife sitting down on the +same couch with the minister. She accused him of the delay in murdering +her husband, of his letting all opportunities escape during the morning +ride. “Horrible! Did you, Kharavadana, marry me to such a +faithful wife! Thank God and Raṇavîrasiṅg that I have +not fallen into her snares,” thought Sundara to himself. The +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb55" href="#pb55" name= +"pb55">55</a>]</span>minister offered a thousand excuses, related to +her all that had taken place between himself and the +Pradhânî, and of what the latter had promised. Then they +both retired to bed. At that moment the treacherous owl began to hoot, +and one of the maid-servants, who happened to be a clever interpreter +of owl-hootings revealed, to secure the favour of the minister, that +the prince was lurking behind a tree in that very garden. Knowing the +price set on Sundara’s head even female hands flew to cut it off. +All ran with torches to search the garden.</p> +<p>These words, of course, fell upon the ears of the prince like +thunder. Before the people there began their search he began his race, +jumped over a high wall, and flew like a kite. Before the lady-racers +and the minister had left their sweet road to the tank-bank, Sundara +found himself in the north street of the town. The news that the prince +was out that night spread like a flame from the pleasure-park outside +throughout the whole town, and before long avaricious persons were +searching in the streets for his valuable head. Sundara thought it +dangerous to pass through the streets, and wished to hide himself in a +safe place. Fortune conducted him to one. It was a ruined old choultry, +where food, during the days of his father, was distributed in charity +to the beggars of the town, and which was now only resorted to by them +to sleep, and not to receive <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb56" href= +"#pb56" name="pb56">56</a>]</span>rice. The prince entered it, and laid +himself down in the midst of them, fortunately unobserved. He could +hear from where he was the noise of the persons searching outside. In +the garden the minister searched in vain, and accusing the female for +her wrong interpretation as he thought, retired to bed.</p> +<p>Outside the north gate, at a distance of three <i><span class="corr" +id="xd20e1192" title= +"Source: ghaṭikas’">ghaṭikâs’</span></i> +walk, lived a robber. He used to start out on a plundering expedition +once in seven years. In the houses and mansions he used to rob he took +only jewels of various kinds, <i>Gômêda</i>,<a class= +"noteref" id="xd20e1198src" href="#xd20e1198" name= +"xd20e1198src">21</a> <i>pushparûga</i>, (topaz) +<i>vajra</i>,<a class="noteref" id="xd20e1208src" href="#xd20e1208" +name="xd20e1208src">22</a> <i>vaiḍûrya</i>,<a class= +"noteref" id="xd20e1214src" href="#xd20e1214" name= +"xd20e1214src">23</a> &c.; gold and silver he rejected as being too +mean for his dignity. As he was a high-caste robber, he used to take a +coolie with him on his way to carry his booty. Of course, that coolie +never returned from the cave. He was put to death after his services +were over, lest he should disclose the secret of the robber.</p> +<p>Unfortunately, that new-moon night happened to be the night of that +cruel robber’s plundering expedition. He came out, and when he +saw people in search of the prince, thinking that he was not in his +palace, he wanted to plunder it. Wishing for a coolie, he entered the +ruined choultry, to pick <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb57" href= +"#pb57" name="pb57">57</a>]</span>out one among the beggars there. +Passing over the others he came to the prince. He found him stout and +strong. “This beggar will do me good service to-day. I shall +break my custom, and amply reward this man for his services.” So +thinking to himself, the gentleman robber tapped Sundara with his cane +on the back. The prince had just closed his eyes. In the short sleep +that ensued he dreamt that the minister’s servants were pursuing +him, and that one had caught him. At that very moment the +gentleman-robber’s stroke fell upon his back, giving a sort of +reality to his dream. He awoke with horror. “Tell me who you +are,” asked the unknown person, “A beggar,” was the +reply. “How does the night appear to you?” asked the +robber. “As dark as dark can be,” replied the prince. The +robber applied a sort of <i>kajjala</i><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1223src" href="#xd20e1223" name="xd20e1223src">24</a> to the +prince’s eyes, and asked, “How does the night appear +now?” “As luminous as if a <i>karôṛ</i> of suns +were in the sky,” answered Sundara. The robber applied a +<i>tilaka</i><a class="noteref" id="xd20e1234src" href="#xd20e1234" +name="xd20e1234src">25</a> to the intended coolie’s forehead and +addressed him thus: “I am a robber, now going to plunder the +palace, from which the prince is absent. Follow me. I shall reward you +richly. The <i>kajjala</i> has made the night a day to you. The +<i>tilaka</i> takes you unobserved <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb58" +href="#pb58" name="pb58">58</a>]</span>wherever you wish to go.” +So saying, and dragging the coolie or supposed coolie by the hand, the +robber went off to the palace. Wherever he found a door locked, he +applied a leaf that he carried in his hand to the fastening, and +behold, the lock flew back, and the door opened of its own accord. The +prince was astonished. In a few minutes the robber opened one and all +of the gates and boxes, and extracted all the precious stones. He tied +them up in a bundle, and set it on the prince’s head, and asked +him to follow. Sundara followed. He assisted in the plunder of his own +palace, and carried the booty behind the robber, who, praised be his +stupidity, never for one moment suspected he was a prince, but admired +his coolie for the beauty of his person, thought of saving his life, +and also of making him his son-in-law. For the robber had a beautiful +daughter, for whom he had long been searching for a suitable husband. +So with this thought he reached the cave, stopped before it, and taking +the bundle from the prince’s head ordered him to go into a large +cell, the mouth of which he covered with a big stone, which he lifted +up by pronouncing an incantation over it. The robber went with the +bundle to his wife, and described to her the beauty of the coolie, and +what a fair match he would be for their daughter. The wife did not like +it, and asked her husband to do with the coolie <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb59" href="#pb59" name="pb59">59</a>]</span>as they +usually did, <i>i.e.</i>, murder him; and the robber, who never in +anything acted against the will of his wife, went in to fetch his +weapon.</p> +<p>Meanwhile the robber’s daughter, an excellent girl, of the +most charming beauty, overhearing all that took place between her +parents, came running to the cave where the coolie was confined. She +pronounced a single word over the stone lid of the cave, and it opened, +and the prince, who had lost all hopes of recovery, now beheld a +beautiful girl coming towards him. “Whoever you may be, my dear +coolie, fly for your life for the present. You are my husband. My +father has so named you, but as my mother does not like it, he has gone +to fetch his weapon to murder you. Excepting we three, none, not even +Brahmâ, can open the once-shut gates. After hearing you once +called my husband, I must ever regard you so. Now fly, and escape my +father’s sharp sword. If you are a man, marry me in kind +remembrance of the assistance rendered. If you fail to do so you are a +beast, and I shall die a virgin.” So saying she conducted out in +haste the supposed coolie, who had only time to take a hasty embrace, +whispering in her ear that he was the prince, and that he would marry +her without fail. He now ran for his life. Fearing the robber would +come after him he left the way by which he reached the cave, and +passing through unknown fields <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb60" +href="#pb60" name="pb60">60</a>]</span>reached the south gate of the +town. By that time the search for him had almost abated, and the +prince, praising God for his delivery, reached the south street. The +night was almost spent. Before returning to the palace he wished to +take rest for a few minutes, till he had recovered his breath, and so +he sat down on the pyal of an old and almost ruined house.</p> +<p>That happened to be the house of a poor Brâhmaṇ, who had +not even sufficient clothes to wear. As the prince sat down in a corner +of the pyal the door of the house opened, and the old +Brâhmaṇ came out. The old woman, the +Brâhmaṇî, was standing at the door with a vessel +containing water for her husband. +Śubhâśâstrî, for that was the +Brâhmaṇ’s name, looked up to the sky for a couple of +minutes, after which he heaved a deep sigh, and said, “Alas, the +prince, the only son of our former protector, <span class="corr" id= +"xd20e1257" title= +"Source: Sivâchâr">Śivâchâr</span>, is not +to remain for more than two <i><span class="corr" id="xd20e1261" title= +"Source: ghaṭikas">ghaṭikâs</span></i>. A +<i>kâlasarpa</i> (black serpent) will sting him. What shall we +do? We are poor. If we could begin <i>Sarpahôma</i><a class= +"noteref" id="xd20e1269src" href="#xd20e1269" name= +"xd20e1269src">26</a> now we could tie the mouth of the snake, +sacrifice it in the fire, and thus save the prince.” So saying +the poor Brâhmaṇ cried. Sundara, who overheard everything, +jumped down in confusion, and fell at the feet of the +Brâhmaṇ, who asked him <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb61" +href="#pb61" name="pb61">61</a>]</span>who he was. “I am a +herdsman of the palace. Preserve my master’s life,” was the +reply. Śubhâśâstrî was extremely poor. He +had no means to procure a small quantity of <i>ghî</i> even to +begin the <i>hôma</i>.<a class="noteref" id="xd20e1281src" href= +"#xd20e1281" name="xd20e1281src">27</a> He did not know what to do. He +begged from his neighbours, who all laughed at his stupidity, and +ridiculed his astrology. The prince in a hopeless state of anguish +wrung his hands, and in wringing them he felt his ring. Drawing it off +his finger he gave it to Śubhâśâstrî, and +requested him to pawn it. The latter resorted to the nearest +bâzâr, and awakening the bâzâr-keeper procured +from him a little <i>ghî</i>, by pawning the ring. Running home +and bathing in cold water the Brâhmaṇ sat down for the +<i>hôma</i>. The prince, fearing the serpent, wished to sit +inside the house, but at a distance from the place of the ceremony. +Just at the appointed hour a large black serpent broke through the sky, +fell on the head of the prince, whom he was not able to bite, and gave +up its life in the fire. “This is no shepherd, but the very +prince himself,” said the Brâhmaṇî.<a class= +"noteref" id="xd20e1290src" href="#xd20e1290" name= +"xd20e1290src">28</a> Sundara rose up, and running surrounded them +thrice, spoke to them thus:—“You alone are my parents and +protectors. This night has been a most adventurous one with me. There +was every possibility of my escaping every other <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb62" href="#pb62" name= +"pb62">62</a>]</span>calamity, and so I did. But no other power except +yours could have averted this snake-bite. So my rescue is due to you +alone. I have no time to lose now. Before daylight I must fly +unobserved to the palace, and you shall before long see my reward for +this.” So saying, Sundara ran to his palace and entered.</p> +<p>Raṇavîrasiṅg was almost dead. The rumour that the +prince was out reached him. He was astonished at the way in which +Sundara had got out. He searched the whole palace. To his astonishment +all the rooms had previously been opened and plundered. “Has the +prince been stolen away by some vile tricks from the palace,” +thought Raṇavîrasiṅg, and without knowing what to do +he was buried in the ocean of sorrow, from which he gave up all hopes +of recovering. What was his joy, then, when he saw the prince enter the +palace just at dawn. “<i>Mai Bâb Chakravarti</i>, +<span class="corr" id="xd20e1301" title="Source: were">where</span> +have you been the whole night, throwing away the advice of your poor +slave? How many enemies you have in this world, you have yet to +know,” said Raṇavîrasiṅg. “I know them +all now, only listen to what I say, and do as I bid. I have won the +crown without a blow. Thank the day that gave me you as my protector, +for it was only yesterday that I had ample reason to verify your +statements. My adventures would make your hair stand on end. Thank God +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb63" href="#pb63" name= +"pb63">63</a>]</span>I have escaped from all of them unhurt. If you +have a few men ready now, we have won the kingdom.” So saying, +the prince explained to him every detail of his adventure. “If we +catch hold of the minister now, we have done all.” “I could +never for one moment think that you in a single night could have seen +and done so much. Now that heaven has shown you the way, I shall obey +you,” said Raṇavîrasiṅg, and Sundara +accordingly issued the orders. He described the house with the pyal at +which he had lingered for a while the previous night, and asked a +servant to bring the owner of that house to the Râjasthânik +office. Raṇavîrasiṅg brought in the +Pradhânî, who was extremely delighted at the good +<span class="corr" id="xd20e1306" title= +"Source: intenton">intention</span> of the prince. He was offered the +Mantrî’s place. Two were sent to the shepherds. Twenty were +sent to the pleasure-park to have the minister and his sweet paramour +brought to the court in chains. The female servants were also ordered +to be brought. The robber and his cruel wife were not forgotten. The +prince minutely described the cave, and asked his servants to catch and +imprison the robber by surprising him suddenly, without giving him time +to have recourse to his vile tricks—lock-breaking <i>kajjala</i>, +&c. The palace palanquin was sent for the robber’s daughter, +whom the prince had firmly made up his mind to marry. The palace +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb64" href="#pb64" name= +"pb64">64</a>]</span>elephants were decked and sent to fetch with all +pomp Śubhâśâstrî and his wife to the court. +Thus, without a single stroke, Sundara won the kingdom. +Raṇavîrasiṅg was thunder-struck by the excellent and +bold way in which the prince in one night went through the series of +calamities, and successfully overcame them all. The +Pradhânî’s delight knew no bounds. He himself broke +open the court and every one connected with the previous night’s +adventure was ushered in. The prince bathed, offered up his prayers, +and attended the council. When Śubhâśâstrî +came in with his wife the prince put them on the +<i>simhâsana</i>,<a class="noteref" id="xd20e1318src" href= +"#xd20e1318" name="xd20e1318src">29</a> and himself standing before +them, explained to all his previous night’s adventures, rewarded +the poor Brâhmaṇ and the shepherds, punished by banishment +the maid-servant who, knowing that the prince’s head was coveted, +revealed his concealment, and ordered his wife, the minister, the +robber, and the robber’s wife to be beheaded. He rewarded without +limit his protector, Śubhâśâstrî, and +married the robber’s daughter, being won over by her sincerity. +The Pradhânî, as we have said already, he made his +minister, and with his old guardian, the faithful +Raṇavîrasiṅg, the prince reigned for several years in +the kingdom of Vañjaimânagar. <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb65" href="#pb65" name="pb65">65</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e937" href="#xd20e937src" name="xd20e937">1</a></span> Classical +name of Karûr, a small, but very ancient, town in the +Kôyambatûr District of the Madras Presidency.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e946" href="#xd20e946src" name="xd20e946">2</a></span> <i>Naraka +of Put</i>—<i>Naraka</i> is hell, and <i>Put</i> is a certain +kind of hell to which, according to Hindû mythology, son-less +persons are hurled down.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e957" href="#xd20e957src" name="xd20e957">3</a></span> +<i>Putra</i>-son, so-called as he protects <span class="corr" id= +"xd20e961" title="Source: he">the</span> father from the hell of +<i>Put</i>.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e976" href="#xd20e976src" name="xd20e976">4</a></span> <i>Ficus +religiosa.</i></p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1002" href="#xd20e1002src" name="xd20e1002">5</a></span> The +fair.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1035" href="#xd20e1035src" name="xd20e1035">6</a></span> +Voluntary cremation of widows with the dead bodies of their husbands on +the funeral pile.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1044" href="#xd20e1044src" name="xd20e1044">7</a></span> +<i>Karôr</i> is equal to ten lacs (<i>lâkhs</i>); +<i>mohur</i> is an old gold coin.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1066" href="#xd20e1066src" name="xd20e1066">8</a></span> +Spring.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1071" href="#xd20e1071src" name="xd20e1071">9</a></span> The +king’s court.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1079" href="#xd20e1079src" name="xd20e1079">10</a></span> Council +chamber.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1087" href="#xd20e1087src" name="xd20e1087">11</a></span> My +darling prince.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1109" href="#xd20e1109src" name="xd20e1109">12</a></span> The +creator of the Hindu mythology.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1114" href="#xd20e1114src" name="xd20e1114">13</a></span> A +Hindû feast.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1120" href="#xd20e1120src" name="xd20e1120">14</a></span> +Fee.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1126" href="#xd20e1126src" name="xd20e1126">15</a></span> +<i>Vêdas</i>—The sacred books of the Hindûs.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1140" href="#xd20e1140src" name="xd20e1140">16</a></span> +Minister.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1143" href="#xd20e1143src" name="xd20e1143">17</a></span> The +chief officer of the realm next to the minister.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1158" href="#xd20e1158src" name="xd20e1158">18</a></span> The +image of the belly-god.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1165" href="#xd20e1165src" name="xd20e1165">19</a></span> The +world of <span class="corr" id="xd20e1167" title= +"Source: Inora">Indra</span>, the regent of the sky.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id="n64a" +href="#n64asrc" name="n64a">20</a></span> Names of divine damsels.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1198" href="#xd20e1198src" name="xd20e1198">21</a></span> +Cinnamon-stone.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1208" href="#xd20e1208src" name="xd20e1208">22</a></span> +Diamond.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1214" href="#xd20e1214src" name="xd20e1214">23</a></span> A +precious stone (cat’s eye).</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1223" href="#xd20e1223src" name="xd20e1223">24</a></span> A sort +of paint for the eye (<i>Hindustani</i>—Surmâ).</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1234" href="#xd20e1234src" name="xd20e1234">25</a></span> A mark +on the forehead.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1269" href="#xd20e1269src" name="xd20e1269">26</a></span> Serpent +sacrifice.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1281" href="#xd20e1281src" name="xd20e1281">27</a></span> +Sacrifice.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1290" href="#xd20e1290src" name="xd20e1290">28</a></span> +Brâhmaṇ woman.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1318" href="#xd20e1318src" name="xd20e1318">29</a></span> +Throne.</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch5" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="label">V.</h2> +<h2 class="main">“Charity Alone Conquers.”</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first"><i>Dharmamê jayam.</i></p> +<p>In the town of Têvai<a class="noteref" id="xd20e1333src" href= +"#xd20e1333" name="xd20e1333src">1</a> there lived a king called +Suguṇa. He had an excellent minister named Dharmaśîla. +They ruled for a long time in prosperity over the kingdom. Both of them +had sons. The prince’s name was Subuddhi. He was a noble prince, +and quite in keeping with his name, was always bent upon doing good to +the world. The minister’s son was named Durbuddhi, a most wicked +boy, whose only delight was teasing beasts and birds from his infancy, +and which ripened into all sorts of wickedness as he grew to boyhood. +Notwithstanding the difference between their temperaments the prince +and the minister’s son were the best of friends. The motto of the +prince was <i>Dharmamê jayam</i>—Charity alone conquers. +That of the minister’s son was <i>Adharmamê +jayam</i>—Absence of Charity alone conquers. When rising +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb66" href="#pb66" name= +"pb66">66</a>]</span>from their beds, when beginning their prayers, +when sitting down for meals or study, and, in fact, before beginning to +do anything, each repeated his motto. The people had great hopes in +Subuddhi, whom they fully expected to see a good and benevolent king; +but the minister’s son all thoroughly hated. Even the minister +himself, his father, hated his son for his vile turn of mind, which he +found impossible to change. His only friend, as we have already said, +was the prince, who, notwithstanding all his faults, loved him +sincerely. Both of them had grown up together from their very cradle, +had played in the same dust, had read their lessons side by side in the +same school under the same teachers. Fortune so ordained that the +prince’s mind should take such a bent, while the mind of the +minister’s son turned in a crooked way.</p> +<p>Nor was Durbuddhi insensible to the disgust and dislike which every +one manifested towards him. He was well aware of all that was going on +around. Still he would not change.</p> +<p>“I have no friend in this world excepting yourself, my dear +Subuddhi,” exclaimed Durbuddhi one day to his royal friend while +they were riding together.</p> +<p>“Fear nothing. I shall ever stand by you as your true +friend,” replied Subuddhi.</p> +<p>“My very father hates me. Who else would like me then? On the +other hand, every one likes <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb67" href= +"#pb67" name="pb67">67</a>]</span>you. You may soon get yourself +married to some beautiful lady, while I must remain a bachelor; for no +girl would marry me. You may soon rise to the place of a king; but I +cannot become your minister, as the people do not like me. What can I +do?” So said the minister’s son, and hung down his head, as +if conscious for a time of the utter hatred with which the people +regarded him.</p> +<p>Subuddhi replied, “Heed it not, I will make you my minister, +give you everything you want, and see you well provided for.”</p> +<p>“If so, will you give me your wife one day, at least, if you +happen to get married before me, and if I remain a bachelor after +you,” were the words which the wretched Durbuddhi shamelessly +uttered to the face of his only friend.</p> +<p>These words were enough in themselves to enrage the prince’s +mind. But he was of so good a nature that instead of becoming angry, he +smiled at the stupidity of his companion, and agreed that he would thus +give him his wife one day in case he got married first. Thus took place +an agreement between Subuddhi and Durbuddhi while they were still quite +young.</p> +<p>Several years passed after this agreement, when one day the prince +went to hunt in a neighbouring forest. His inseparable companion, the +minister’s <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb68" href="#pb68" name= +"pb68">68</a>]</span>son, and several hunters followed him to the wood. +The prince and the minister’s son both gave chase to a deer. They +rode so much in advance of the hunters that they lost themselves in a +thick jungle, where the latter could neither see nor follow them. The +hunters returned after dark, and informed the king and the minister +about the disappearance of their sons. They thought that as their sons +were grown-up men they need not fear for their safety.</p> +<p>The two friends chased the deer and found themselves in the midst of +a thick forest in the evening. Except a slight breakfast in the early +morning they had tasted no other food. Hunger was pinching them +severely. The hot chase had awakened a severe thirst, to quench which +they were not able to find a drop of water. In utter hopelessness of +life they resigned themselves to the course of their steeds. The beasts +seemed very well to understand the wants of their royal riders. They +went on trotting, and at last, about midnight, stopped on the banks of +a large tank.</p> +<p>The riders, who were almost dead with thirst, opened their closed +eyes when the horses stopped. All of a sudden, and to their great joy, +they found themselves on the banks of a large tank. Their joy knew no +bounds.</p> +<p>“Surely God takes care of His children. Had it not been for +His kind care how could we have <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb69" +href="#pb69" name="pb69">69</a>]</span>come to this tank, when we had +given ourselves up to the guidance of our horses?” thought +Subuddhi to himself, and got down from his horse.</p> +<p>The minister’s son, who had become more exhausted by that time +than his companion, also alighted. Subuddhi, true to the nobility of +his mind, took both the steeds first to water, and, after satisfying +their thirst and loosening them to graze by the side of a grassy +meadow, he went into the water to quench his thirst. The +minister’s son also followed. After a short prayer Subuddhi took +some handfuls of water, and returned to the bank. Durbuddhi also +returned. They chose a clean spot, and sat down to rest during the +remaining part of the night. The prince, when taking his seat, +pronounced his usual motto, “Charity alone conquers,” and +the minister’s son also repeated his, “Absence of Charity +alone conquers.”</p> +<p>These words fell like venom into the ears of the prince at that +time. He could not control his anger then, notwithstanding his mild +disposition. The hardships of the day, their fortunate arrival on a +tank in the dead of night to have their thirst quenched, were fresh in +Subuddhi’s mind, and the prayers that he was offering to God were +not yet over. That the minister’s son should never think of all +this, and go on with his own stupid motto even at that time was +intolerable to Subuddhi. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb70" href= +"#pb70" name="pb70">70</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Vile wretch! detested atheist! have you no shame, to utter +your wicked motto even after such calamities? It is not too late even +now. Mend your character. Think of the God that saved you just now. +Believe in Him. Change your motto from this day.” Thus spoke the +angry prince to the minister’s son.</p> +<p>Durbuddhi, who was naturally of a wicked and quarrelsome +temperament, flew into a rage at once at the excellent advice of the +prince.</p> +<p>“Stop your mouth. I know as well as you do; you cannot wag +your tail here. I can oppose you single-handed in this +forest.”</p> +<p>Thus saying, the minister’s son sprang like an enraged lion at +Subuddhi, who, as he never dreamt of any such thing, was completely +overpowered by the wicked Durbuddhi. The prince was thrown down in the +twinkling of an eye, and the minister’s son was upon him. He +severely thrashed his royal master, and, taking hold of a twig that was +lying close by, tore out the prince’s two eyes, filled up the +sockets with sand, and ran away with his horse, thinking that he had +completely killed him.</p> +<p>Subuddhi was almost dead; his body was bruised all over; his eyes +were no more; his physical pain was unbearable.</p> +<p>“Is there a God over us all?” thought Subuddhi. The +night was almost over. The cool and sweet <span class="pagenum">[<a id= +"pb71" href="#pb71" name="pb71">71</a>]</span>breeze of the morning +gave him some strength. He rose up, and, crawling on the ground, felt +his way to the entrance of a temple. He crept in, shut <span class= +"corr" id="xd20e1393" title="Not in source">the</span> gates, and +fastened the bolt.</p> +<p>It happened to be a temple of the fierce <i>Kâlî</i>. +She used to go out every morning to gather roots and fruits, and to +return at evening. That day, when she returned, she found her gates +shut against her. She threatened with destruction the usurper of her +temple. A voice, and we know that it was Subuddhi’s, replied from +within:</p> +<p>“I am already dying of the loss of my eyes. So, if in anger +you kill me, it is so much the better; for what use is there in my +living blind? If, on the contrary, you pity me, and by your divine +power give me my eyes, I shall open the gates.”</p> +<p>Kâlî was in a very difficult position. She was very +hungry, and saw no other way of going inside than by giving Subuddhi +his eyes.</p> +<p>“Open the gates; your request is granted,” said +Kâlî. No sooner were these words uttered than the prince +recovered his eyes. His delight may be better imagined than described. +He opened the gates and vowed before Kâlî that he would +from that day continue in that temple as her servant and +worshipper.</p> +<p>The wretched Durbuddhi, after his horrible act, rode on composedly, +following the footsteps of his <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb72" +href="#pb72" name="pb72">72</a>]</span>horse, and reached the forest +where he had been hunting the day before in company with the prince. He +thence returned home all alone. When his father saw him coming back he +suspected something wrong to the prince, and asked his son what had +become of him.</p> +<p>“We chased a deer, and he rode so much in advance of me that +he was out of sight, and finding all search vain, I returned +alone,” was Durbuddhi’s reply.</p> +<p>“This I would have believed from anyone but yourself. Never +plant your feet in these dominions till you bring back the prince +again. Run for your life,” was the order of the minister, and +Durbuddhi accordingly ran off, fearing the anger of his father.</p> +<p>Thus the Prince Subuddhi served in the Kâlî temple; and +Durbuddhi, fully confident that he had killed his friend, roamed about +from place to place, as he saw no possibility of returning to his own +country without the prince.</p> +<p>Thus passed several months. The goddess Kâlî was +extremely delighted at the sincere devotion of Subuddhi, and, calling +him one day to her side, said:</p> +<p>“My son! I am delighted with your great devotion to me. Enough +of your menial services here. Better return now to your kingdom. Your +parents are likely to be much vexed at your loss. <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb73" href="#pb73" name="pb73">73</a>]</span>Go and +console their minds.” Thus ended Kâlî, and Subuddhi +replied:</p> +<p>“Excuse me, my goddess, my mother, I no more regard them as my +parents. This wood is not a large place if they wished to search for +me. As they were so careless about me, I shall also from this day +disregard them. You are my father and mother. Therefore permit me to +end my days here in your service.” So saying, Subuddhi begged +Kâlî to allow him to stay, and the goddess agreed +accordingly, for some time at least.</p> +<p>After a few more months, Kâlî called the prince again to +her, and addressed him thus:</p> +<p>“My boy! I have devised another plan. Better not, then, go to +your parents, as you do not wish to go now. At a short distance from +this place, in the Kâvêrî country, reigns a staunch +devotee of mine. His daughter had small-pox, and as he forgot to do +proper respect to me, I have blinded both her eyes. The king has issued +a proclamation that he will give the whole kingdom and his daughter in +marriage to him who would cure her of her defect. He has hung up a bell +(<i>ghaṇṭâ</i>) at which every physician who wishes +to try the case strikes. The king comes running as soon as he hears the +sound, takes home the doctor and shows him the case. Several persons +have tried in vain; for who could repair a defect inflicted by the +displeasure of the gods? Now I <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb74" +href="#pb74" name="pb74">74</a>]</span>mean to send you there. That +king is a staunch worshipper of my feet. Though I have punished him, +still I pity the sad calamity that has come upon his daughter. You had +better go there and strike the bell. He will take you and show you the +case. For three consecutive days apply my holy ashes to her eyes. +Though fools may deride these ashes, still by them a true devotee can +work wonders. On the fourth day her eyes will be perfectly restored. +Then you will secure her hand, and, what is more, the country of +Kâvêrî. Reign there, for you are born to reign, being +a prince, and not to spend your time here in this wood. If you do not +do so you will commit a sin, and, what is more, incur my +displeasure.”</p> +<p>Thus ended Kâlî, and the prince could not refuse; for he +feared the anger of the goddess. Agreeing to her words, and with her +manifold blessings, he started and reached the kingdom of +Kâvêrî.</p> +<p>He struck the bell. The king came running to welcome the new doctor. +All the previous physicians had tried by medicines external and +internal. The new doctor—Prince Subuddhi—proposed to treat +the case by <i>mantras</i>—incantations. The old king, who was +very religious, fully believed that the new doctor might effect the +cure, and, just as he expected, on the <span class="corr" id= +"xd20e1442" title="Source: forrth">fourth</span> day his +daughter’s sight was completely restored. The <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb75" href="#pb75" name= +"pb75">75</a>]</span>king’s joy knew no bounds. He enquired into +the parentage of the doctor: and when he came to know that he had +princely blood in his veins, that he was as honourably descended as +himself, his joy was greatly increased. He sent up a thousand prayers +to the god for giving him a royal son-in-law. As promised in his +notice, he would have to give his daughter to anyone, whatever he might +be, who effected the cure. The lowest beggar, the lowest caste-man, if +he had only succeeded in curing her, would have had as much claim to +her hand as the prince-physician. So when the person that effected the +cure proved to be a prince, the king was extremely delighted, and at +once made all arrangements for the marriage of his daughter, and gave +her to Subuddhi: and, himself being very old, he gave the kingdom also +to the prince at the same time.</p> +<p>Thus by the favour of Kâlî, Subuddhi had a princess for +his wife and a kingdom to govern. Subuddhi, as we know, was an +excellent man. Though he became king now, he consulted his +father-in-law in all matters, and, in fact, acted only as manager for +the old man. Every evening he used to consult him for an hour or two +before disposing of intricate cases. The duty of signing, too, he +reserved for the old man. Thus even on those days when there were no +cases he used to go to his <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb76" href= +"#pb76" name="pb76">76</a>]</span>father-in-law to get papers signed. +Thus passed on a couple of years or so.</p> +<p>One evening, while sitting in company with his wife in the loftiest +room of his palace after the duties of the day, he cast his eyes to the +east main street and contemplated the bustle of that part of the town. +Carts creaking under the load of merchandise, the flourish with which +the goods and wares were exposed for sale, fashionable gentlemen in +their fanciful evening costumes walking to and fro, the troublesome +hawkers that stand by the roadside questioning every one as to what +they would buy, and several other things interested him, and for a time +made him somewhat proud even, that he ruled over such a rich country. +But sweetness is not always unaccompanied with bitterness. He saw in +that same street a man whose face was very familiar to him, but whom he +could not at once make out. A black man was sitting on a projecting +pyal of a corner of a shop, and was mending some torn gunny bags. +Subuddhi looked at him carefully.</p> +<p>“Is it the minister’s son, Durbuddhi? No; he is not so +black; rather was not when I saw him last,” thought Subuddhi with +himself, and examining his face, he at last exclaimed, “It is he! +It is he! It is my friend and companion.” “Who is +it?” exclaimed the princess, and rushed at once to his side. She +had most carefully watched her husband’s <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb77" href="#pb77" name="pb77">77</a>]</span>face for +the past few minutes while he was in deep contemplation. “It is +my friend, the minister’s son, by name Durbuddhi. We were +companions from our birth; we played in the same dust, read in the same +school, and were ever inseparable companions. I do not know what has +brought him to the condition in which I see him now,” said +Subuddhi, and sent some one to fetch him. Of the wicked and base act of +the vile Durbuddhi he did not care to inform his gentle wife, who now +retired to her inner apartments, as decorum did not allow her to be in +company with her husband when he was receiving others.</p> +<p>The persons sent brought in Durbuddhi. Whatever might have been the +cruelty that he had received from the hands of the minister’s +son, the prince began to shed tears when he saw his old companion +ushered in, not in that blooming cheerful red complexion in which he +had seen him last, but in a weather-beaten dark skin and dejected +colour of a <span class="corr" id="xd20e1459" title= +"Source: cooly">coolie</span> in which he saw him a few minutes +ago.</p> +<p>“I excuse you all your faults, my dear Durbuddhi. Tell me +quickly what has brought you to this wretched plight,” asked +Subuddhi, and while asking he began to cry aloud. The minister’s +son also shed tears copiously, and cried or pretended to cry; for be it +known that he was a perfect scoundrel, born to no good in the world. +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb78" href="#pb78" name= +"pb78">78</a>]</span></p> +<p>“My own mischief has brought me to this plight. When I +returned to our country, after putting out your eyes and thinking that +I had killed you, my father banished me from our dominions, and ordered +me never to plant my feet within their limits without bringing you +back. As I thought I had put an end to your life I never came back to +that tank in search of you. I engaged myself as a <span class="corr" +id="xd20e1467" title="Source: cooly">coolie</span> in the streets of +this town after trying several other places without success, and I now +stand before you.” Thus ended Durbuddhi, and the prince quite +forgot his cruelty to him. He ordered his servants to get the +minister’s son bathed, and attired in as rich robes as he himself +wore. Then he related to him his own story, without omitting a single +point, and at once made him his minister.</p> +<p>The whole story of Durbuddhi, excepting the single point of his +having put out his eyes, the prince related to his wife, father, and +mother-in-law.</p> +<p>Thus was Durbuddhi again restored to his high position, through the +liberal kindness of Subuddhi. Subuddhi did not stop even at this. He +began to send him with papers and other things to the old king for +signature. This went on for some months. All the while Durbuddhi was as +obedient as might be, and by his vile tricks had completely won over +the heart of the old king. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb79" href= +"#pb79" name="pb79">79</a>]</span></p> +<p>One evening, after the signatures were over, Durbuddhi stopped for a +while as if desirous to speak. “What do you want?” said the +old king. “Nothing but your favour,” was the only reply, +after which he retired. Thus he went on for some days and weeks. Every +day he stopped for a few minutes after the state business was over, and +when the old king asked the reason for it went on giving evasive +answers. At last one evening the old king was extremely provoked. The +cunning Durbuddhi had purposely intended this.</p> +<p>“What a big fool are you to stop every day as if wishing to +speak and never to utter a word,” broke out the old king.</p> +<p>“I beg pardon of your honour; I was thinking all the while +whether I should let out my secret or not. At last, I have come to the +conclusion that I will keep it to myself,” replied the diabolical +Durbuddhi.</p> +<p>“No, you shall let it out,” roared the old king, whose +curiosity was more roused than abated by the words, purposely obscure, +of the minister’s son. Durbuddhi, after simulating much +reluctance at disclosing the supposed secret, loudly began his +harangue:</p> +<p>“My lord, ever since I came here I have been making enquiries +about the nobility of your family, about the sacrifices that you and +your ancestors have <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb80" href="#pb80" +name="pb80">80</a>]</span>performed, about the purifications that you +and your elders have undergone, and about a thousand other particulars, +each of which is enough to secure you and your descendants the place of +Achyuta (<i>Achyutapada</i>) himself. These delighted me for a +time—I say for a time—for listen, please, to what follows. +When I compared with the pure fame of your famous family, that of your +son-in-law, my heart began to pain me. Indeed the pain which began at +that moment has not yet ceased. Know, then, that your son-in-law is not +a prince. No doubt he has royal blood in his veins, which makes him +look like a king. How came he to be so skilful in medicine. Just +enquire the cause. To be no more in the dark, the king of my +country—over which my father is the minister—set out one +day on <i>savâr</i>. While passing a barber’s street he saw +a beautiful damsel of that caste. Bewitched by her beauty the king +wanted to include her in his harem, notwithstanding her low position in +society. The child of that woman, is your son-in-law. He being the son +of a barber-mother acquired thus easily the art of medicine. That a +king was his father makes him look like a prince. If he had been of +pure birth why should he leave his kingdom, and come here to effect the +cure of your daughter? Except this prince, or supposed prince, all +those that came here were mere doctors by caste.” Thus ended the +vile Durbuddhi, and <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb81" href="#pb81" +name="pb81">81</a>]</span>taking in his hand the papers, vanished out +of the room quickly, like a serpent that had stung.</p> +<p>The sweet words in which the minister’s son clothed his +arguments, the rising passion at the thought that he had been falsely +imposed upon by a barber’s son, the shame—or rather +supposed shame—that he thought had come over his family, and a +thousand other feelings clouded for a time the clear reason of the old +king. He saw no other way of putting an end to the shame than by the +murder of his dear daughter and son-in-law first, and of his own self +and queen afterwards. At once he sent for the executioner, who came in. +He gave him his signet-ring, and commanded him to break open the +bed-room of his son-in-law that midnight, and murder him with his wife +while asleep. The <i>hukums</i>, or orders given with signet-rings, can +never be disobeyed. The executioner humbled himself to the ground, as a +sign of his accepting the order, and retired to sharpen his knife for +his terrible duty.</p> +<p>Neither Subuddhi nor his affectionate wife had any reason to suspect +this terrible mandate. The old queen and the treacherous Durbuddhi had +equally no reason to know anything about it. The old man, after issuing +the <i>hukum</i>, shut himself up in his closet, and began to weep and +wail as if he had lost his daughter from that moment. Durbuddhi, after +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb82" href="#pb82" name= +"pb82">82</a>]</span>kindling the fire, as says the Tamil proverb, by +means of his treachery, came back with the papers to the prince. A +thought occurred in his mind that Subuddhi’s fate was drawing +near. He wanted to carry out the agreement between himself and the +prince about the latter’s wife. The excellent Subuddhi, who +always observed oaths most strictly, was confused for a time. He did +not know what to do. To stick to the oath and surrender his wife to +another; or to break it and preserve the chastity of his own wife. At +last, repeating in his own mind, “Charity alone conquers,” +and also thinking that Heaven would somehow devise to preserve his +wife, he went to her, explained to her how the matter stood, and +ordered her to go to the minister’s son. She hesitatingly +consented; for, as a good wife, she could not disobey her +husband’s commands. Subuddhi then told Durbuddhi that he might +have his wife as his own.</p> +<p>The princess went to her mother, crying that her husband had turned +out mad. “Or else who would promise to give his wife to another. +What does he mean by that?”</p> +<p>“My daughter! fear nothing, perhaps, in his boyhood, he made +this rash promise without thinking. The promise once made now pains +him. Unable to break it, and leaving it to yourself to preserve your +chastity, he has so ordered <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb83" href= +"#pb83" name="pb83">83</a>]</span>you. And he would, nay must, excuse +you, if you by some means or other save yourself, and apparently make +good your husband’s promise also. A thought just comes to me how +to do that. There is your foster-sister, exactly resembling you. I +shall send her in your place.” So consoling her daughter, the old +queen at once made all the requisite arrangements. And, of course, +Subuddhi had no reason then to know anything about them.</p> +<p>In the middle of the night his door is forced open, and a ruffian +with a drawn sword, blazing like lightning, rushes in, and murders the +pair. Thus in that very night in which Durbuddhi had reached the +topmost point of his vice, he was cut down by the supreme hand of God. +For, it is said, that when crime increases, God himself cannot tolerate +it.</p> +<p>The morning dawned. Subuddhi rose from his couch, and after his +morning prayers was sitting in the council hall. The princess and her +mother rose from their beds, and were attending to their business. A +servant just at that time came running to the old queen, and said:</p> +<p>“Our king is weeping in his room that his daughter is now no +more. I think that there is something wrong with his majesty’s +brains to-day. Come and console him.”</p> +<p>The queen, who knew nothing of what had happened, ran to her +husband’s room, quite <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb84" href= +"#pb84" name="pb84">84</a>]</span>astonished at the change. The husband +reported everything to her—the sage-looking minister’s son, +the barber’s son-in-law, and everything, and then concluded that +their daughter and son-in-law were no more.</p> +<p>“What! compose yourself. Our son-in-law is sitting in his +durbar. Our daughter is just adorning herself in her dressing-room. +Were you dreaming? Are you in your right senses?” said the +queen.</p> +<p>The king ordered the executioner to bring the heads, which, on +examination, proved to be those of the minister’s son and of the +foster-sister. The queen told everything of the one-day-wife-giving +engagement, and her own arrangements about it. The old king could not +understand what all this meant. He drew out his sword and ran to the +durbar like a maddened lion, and stood armed before his son-in-law.</p> +<p>“Relate to me your true origin, and everything respecting +yourself. Speak the truth. How came you to learn medicine? If you are a +prince why should you leave your own dominions and come down here? What +about this wicked agreement of giving your wife to another? Who is this +minister’s son?”</p> +<p>Subuddhi, without omitting a single point, related everything that +had taken place, even to the putting out of his eyes. The old man threw +down <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb85" href="#pb85" name= +"pb85">85</a>]</span>his sword, took his son-in-law in his arms almost, +for so great was his joy at the excellent way which fate had prepared +for his escape, and said:</p> +<p>“My son, my life, my eye. True it is, true it is. +<i>Dharma</i> alone conquers, and you that hold that motto have +conquered everything. The vile wretch whom, notwithstanding the series +of rogueries that he practised upon you, you protected, has at last +found out that his <i>Adharmam</i> never conquers. But he never found +it out. It was his <i>Adharmam</i> that cut him off on the very night +of his supposed complete conquest by it.”</p> +<p>Letters were sent at once to Têvai, inviting <span class= +"corr" id="xd20e1548" title="Source: Suguna">Suguṇa</span> and +Dharmaśîla to the happy rejoicings at the prince and +princess’s delivery, and a re-marriage was celebrated with all +pomp, in honour of their lucky escape. Dharmaśîla, as he +disliked his son, never shed a single tear for his loss. Subuddhi lived +for a long time, giving much consolation to his own and his +wife’s parents. Through the blessings of Kâlî they +had several intelligent sons. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb86" href= +"#pb86" name="pb86">86</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1333" href="#xd20e1333src" name="xd20e1333">1</a></span> +Têvai is the classical name of the modern town of +Râmnâd in the district of Madurâ.</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch6" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="label">VI.</h2> +<h2 class="main">Vidâmundan Kodâmundan.</h2> +<h2 class="main">Mr. Won’t-Give and Mr. Won’t-Leave.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">In a certain town there lived a clever old +Brâhmaṇ, named Won’t-Give.<a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1561src" href="#xd20e1561" name="xd20e1561src">1</a> He used to +go out daily and to beg in all the houses round, under the pretence +that he had to feed several Brâhmaṇs in his own house. Good +people, that believed in his words, used to give him much rice and +curry stuffs, with which he would come home, and explain to his wife +how he had deceived such and such a gentleman by the imposition of +feeding in charity many persons at home. But if any hungry +Brâhmaṇ, who had heard of his empty boast of feeding +Brâhmaṇs at home, came to him, he was sent away with some +excuse or other. In this way Mr. Won’t-Give brought home a +basketful of rice and other necessaries every day, of which he only +used a small portion for himself and his wife, and converted the +remainder into money. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb87" href="#pb87" +name="pb87">87</a>]</span>And thus, by imposition and tricks, he +managed to live well for several years.</p> +<p>In an adjoining village there lived another very clever +Brâhmaṇ, named Won’t-Leave.<a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1569src" href="#xd20e1569" name="xd20e1569src">2</a> Whenever he +found any man reluctant and unwilling to give him anything that he +begged of him, he would persist in bothering him until he had wrung +from him a dole. This Mr. Won’t-Leave, hearing of the charity of +Mr. Won’t-Give, and his benevolent feeding of +Brâhmaṇs, came to see him one day, and requested him to +give him a meal. Mr. Won’t-Give told him that for that day ten +Brâhmaṇs had already been settled, and that if he came the +next day he would have his meal without fail. Mr. Won’t-Leave +agreed to this, and left him for that day. Mr. Won’t-Give had, of +course, told him the very lie he was accustomed to tell all that +occasionally begged meals of him.</p> +<p>Now Mr. Won’t-Leave was not so stupid as to be thus imposed +upon. He stood before Mr. Won’t-Give’s door precisely at +the appointed <i>ghaṭikâ</i> (hour) the next day, and +reminded the master of the house of his promise. Mr. Won’t-Give +had never before been taken at his word, and determined to send away +the impertinent guest by some stronger excuse than the first, and so he +spoke to him thus:— <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb88" href= +"#pb88" name="pb88">88</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Sir, I am very sorry to say that my wife fell ill last night +of a strong fever, from which she has not yet recovered. Owing to this +unforeseen accident I have had to postpone my charitable feedings +(<i>samârâdhana</i>) till her recovery, so do not trouble +me, please, for some days more.”</p> +<p>Mr. Won’t-Leave heard these words with an expression of +sincere, or rather, seemingly sincere, sorrow in his face, and +replied:—</p> +<p>“Respected sir, I am very sorry for the illness of the +mistress of the house, but to give up charitable feeding of +Brâhmaṇs on that account is a great sin. For the last ten +years I have been studying the art of cooking, and can now cook for +even several hundreds of Brâhmaṇs; so I can assist you now +in preparing the necessaries for the +<i>samârâdhana</i>.”</p> +<p>Mr. Won’t-Give could not refuse such a request, but he +deceitfully determined in his mind to get Mr. Won’t-Leave to cook +for him, and then to drive him away without giving him his rice. And so +he said:—</p> +<p>“Yes, that is a very good idea. I am much obliged to you for +your kind suggestion. Come in; let us cook together.”</p> +<p>So saying, the master of the house took Mr. Won’t-Leave inside +and they both went into the kitchen, <span class="pagenum">[<a id= +"pb89" href="#pb89" name="pb89">89</a>]</span>while the mistress of the +house, at the command of her husband, pretended to be ill.</p> +<p>Now Mr. Won’t-Give was a good liver, and prepared, with the +assistance of Mr. Won’t-Leave, several good dishes. And then the +difficulty was to drive the fellow out, for the long-maintained rule of +never feeding a single Brâhmaṇ must not be broken that day. +So, when the cooking was all over, the master of the house gave to Mr. +Won’t-Leave a <i>kâśu</i> (copper coin), and asked him +to bring some leaves from the <i>bâzâr</i> (for plates), +and he accordingly went. Mr. Won’t-Give, meanwhile, came to his +wife, and instructed her thus:—</p> +<p>“My dearest wife, I have spared you the trouble of cooking +to-day. Would that we could get such stupid fools as this every day to +cook for us! I have now sent him out to fetch us some leaves, and it +won’t look well if we shut our doors against him or drive him +away; so we must make him go away of his own accord. A thought has just +come into my mind as to how we can do it. As soon as he comes you shall +commence to quarrel with me. I shall then come to you and beat you, or, +rather, the ground near you, with both my hands, and you must continue +your abuse and cries. The guest will find this very disgusting, and +will leave us of his own accord.”</p> +<p>Mr. Won’t-Give had just finished when he <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb90" href="#pb90" name="pb90">90</a>]</span>saw Mr. +Won’t-Leave returning with the leaves. The wife, as pre-arranged, +abused her husband right and left for his great imprudence and +over-liberality in feeding the Brâhmaṇs. Said she:</p> +<p>“How are we to get on in the world if you thus empty the house +of everything we have in feeding big-bellied Brâhmaṇs? Must +you be so particular as to invite them, even when I am sick?” +These, and a thousand similar expressions, were now launched at the +husband’s head. He pretended not to hear it for a time, but at +last, apparently overcome by anger, he went in and with his hands gave +successive blows on the floor. At every blow on the floor the wife +cried out that she was being murdered, and that those who had mercy in +their hearts should come to her rescue.</p> +<p>Mr. Won’t-Leave, from the court-yard of the house, listened to +what was taking place inside, but not wishing to interfere in a quarrel +between husband and wife, left matters to take their own course, and +got into the loft, where he hid himself, fearing that he would be +summoned as a witness to the quarrel.</p> +<p>After a time Mr. Won’t-Give came out of the room where he had +been beating the floor, and to his joy he could not find the guest. He +cautiously looked round him and saw no signs of Mr. Won’t-Leave. +Of course, having had no reason to think <span class="pagenum">[<a id= +"pb91" href="#pb91" name="pb91">91</a>]</span>that his guest would be +sitting in the loft, he did not look up there; and even if he had done +so, he would not have found him, for he had hidden himself out of +sight.</p> +<p>Mr. Won’t-Give now carefully bolted the door, and his wife +came out and changed her dirty cloth for a clean one. Said her husband +to her:</p> +<p>“At last we have succeeded in driving him out; come, you too +must be hungry; let us have our dinner together.”</p> +<p>Two leaves were spread on the ground, and all the dishes were +equally divided into them. Meanwhile Mr. <span class="corr" id= +"xd20e1628" title="Source: Won’t-leave">Won’t-Leave</span> +was watching all that took place below him and, being himself very +hungry, was slyly watching for an opportunity to jump down. Mr. +Won’t-Give, gloating over his trickery, said to his wife:</p> +<p>“Well, my love, did I not beat you without hurting you?” +to which she replied:</p> +<p>“Did I not continue to cry without shedding tears?” when +suddenly there fell on their ears:</p> +<p>“And did I not come to have my dinner without going +away?” and down jumped Mr. Won’t-Leave, from the loft, and +took his seat in front of the leaf spread by Mr. Won’t-Give for +his wife. And Mr. <span class="corr" id="xd20e1638" title= +"Source: Wont-Give">Won’t-Give</span>, though disappointed, was +highly pleased at the cleverness of his guest. <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb92" href="#pb92" name="pb92">92</a>]</span></p> +<p>This story is cited as the authority for three proverbs that have +come into use in Tamil.</p> +<ul lang="ta-latn"> +<li>“<i>Nôvâmal aḍitten.</i>”</li> +<li>“<i>Oyâmal aluden.</i>”</li> +<li>“<i>Pôkâmal vandên.</i>”</li> +</ul> +<p>which represent the exchanges of politeness between the husband, the +wife, and the guest, quoted in the foregoing paragraphs. <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb93" href="#pb93" name="pb93">93</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1561" href="#xd20e1561src" name="xd20e1561">1</a></span> +<i>Kodâmundan.</i></p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1569" href="#xd20e1569src" name="xd20e1569">2</a></span> +<i>Vidâmundan.</i></p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch7" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="label">VII.</h2> +<h2 class="main">Vayalvallan Kaiyavalla.</h2> +<h2 class="main">Mr. Mighty-of-his-Mouth and Mr. +Mighty-of-his-Hands.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">In two adjoining villages there lived two famous men. +The one was called Mr. Mighty-of-his-mouth<a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1673src" href="#xd20e1673" name="xd20e1673src">1</a>—one +that could accomplish wonders with words alone. The other was called +Mr. Mighty-of-his-hands<a class="noteref" id="xd20e1678src" href= +"#xd20e1678" name="xd20e1678src">2</a>—one who could make no use +of that glib instrument the tongue, but was able to bear burdens, cut +wood, and perform other physical labour.</p> +<p>It so happened that they agreed to live together in the house of the +Mr. Mighty-of-his-mouth, to try and see which of them was the superior. +They accordingly kept company for several months, till the great feast +of the nine nights (<i>navarâtrî</i>) came on. On the first +day of the feast Mr. Mighty-of-his-hands wanted to sacrifice a goat to +the goddess Kâlî. So he said to Mr. +Mighty-of-his-mouth,</p> +<p>“My dear friend, we both are mighty in our way, and so it +would be shameful for us to buy the goat, <span class="pagenum">[<a id= +"pb94" href="#pb94" name="pb94">94</a>]</span>that we want to +sacrifice, with money. We should manage to get it without +payment.”</p> +<p>“Yes, we must do so, and I know how,” replied Mr. +Mighty-of-his-mouth, and he asked his friend to wait till that +evening.</p> +<p>Now there lived a shepherd at one <i>ghaṭikâ’s</i> +(hour’s) distance from their house, and the two friends resolved +to go to his fold that night and steal away one of his goats. +Accordingly, when it was dark, they approached his fold. The shepherd +had just finished his duties to the mute members of his flock, and +wanted to go home and have his rice hot. But he had no second person to +watch the flock, and he must not lose his supper. So he planted his +crook before the fold, and throwing his blanket (<i>kambalî</i>) +over it, thus addressed it:</p> +<p>“My son, I am very hungry, and so must go for my rice. Till I +return do you watch the flock. This wood is rich in tigers and goblins +(<i>bhûtas</i>). Some mischievous thief or +<i>bhûta</i>—or <i><span class="corr" id="xd20e1711" title= +"Source: kuta">kûta</span></i><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1713src" href="#xd20e1713" name="xd20e1713src">3</a> may come to +steal away the sheep. Watch over them carefully.” So saying the +shepherd went away.</p> +<p>The friends had heard what the shepherd said. Of course, Mr. +Mighty-of-his-mouth laughed within himself at this device of the +shepherd to impress <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb95" href="#pb95" +name="pb95">95</a>]</span>upon would-be robbers that he had left some +one there to watch his sheep, while really he had only planted a pole +and thrown a blanket over it. Mr. Mighty-of-his-hands, however, did not +see the trick, and mistaking the stick to be an actual watchman sitting +at his duty before the fold, spoke thus to his friend:</p> +<p>“Now what are we to do? There is a watchman sitting in front +of the fold.” Thereon, Mr. Mighty-of-his-mouth cleared away his +doubts by saying that it was no watchman, but a mere stick, and entered +the fold with his friend.</p> +<p>It had also so happened that on that very night a <i>bhûta</i> +(goblin) had come into the fold to steal away a sheep. It shuddered +with fear on hearing the shepherd mention the <i>kûta</i>, for +having never heard of the existence of <i>kûtas</i>, it mistook +this imaginary being to be something superior in strength to itself. So +thinking that a <i>kûta</i> might come to the fold, and not +wishing to expose itself till it knew well what <i>kûtas</i> +were, the <i>bhûta</i> transformed itself into a sheep and laid +itself down among the flock. By this time the two Mighties had entered +the fold and begun an examination of the sheep. They went on rejecting +one animal after another for some defect or other, till at last they +came to the sheep which was none other than the <i>bhûta</i>. +They tested it, and when they found it very heavy—as, of course, +it would be with <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb96" href="#pb96" name= +"pb96">96</a>]</span>the soul of the <i>bhûta</i> in +it—they began to tie up its legs to carry it home. When hands +began to shake it the <i>bhûta</i> mistook the Mighties for the +<i>kûtas</i>, and said to itself:—</p> +<p>“Alas! the <i>kûtas</i> have come to take me away. What +am I to do? What a fool I was to come into the fold!” So thought +the <i>bhûta</i> as Mr. Mighty-of-his-hands was carrying it away +on his head, with his friend following him behind. But the +<i>bhûta</i> soon began to work its devilish powers to extricate +itself, and Mr. Mighty-of-his-hands began to feel pains all over his +body and said to his friend:</p> +<p>“My dear Mighty, I feel pains all over me. I think what we +have brought is no sheep!” Mr. Mighty<span class="corr" id= +"xd20e1777" title="Not in source">-</span>of-his-mouth was inwardly +alarmed at the words of his friend, but did not like to show that he +was afraid. So he said:</p> +<p>“Then put down the sheep, and let us tear open its belly, so +that we shall each have only one-half of it to carry.”</p> +<p>This frightened the <i>bhûta</i>, and he melted away on the +head of Mr. Mighty-of-his-hands, who, relieved of his devilish burden, +was glad to return home safe with his friend.</p> +<p>The <i>bhûta</i>, too, went to its abode and there told its +fellow-goblins how it had involved itself in a great trouble and how +narrowly it had escaped. They all <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb97" +href="#pb97" name="pb97">97</a>]</span>laughed at its stupidity and +said, “What a great fool you are! They were not +<i>kûtas</i>. In fact there are no <i>kûtas</i> in the +world. They were men, and it was most stupid of you to have got +yourself into their hands. Are you not ashamed to make such a fuss +about your escape?” The injured <i>bhûta</i> retorted that +they would not have made such remarks had they seen the +<i>kûtas</i>. “Then show us these <i>kûtas</i>, as +you choose to call them,” said they, “and we will crush +them in the twinkling of an eye.” “Agreed,” said the +injured <i>bhûta</i>, and the next night it took them to the +house of the Mighties, and said from a distance: “There is their +house. I cannot approach it. Do whatever you like.” The other +<i>bhûtas</i> were amazed at the fear of their timid brother, and +resolved among themselves to put an end to the enemies of even one +member of their caste. So they went in a great crowd to the house of +the Mighties. Some stood outside the house, to see that none of the +inmates escaped, and some watched in the back-yard, while a score of +them jumped over the walls and entered the court-yard.</p> +<p>Mr. Mighty-of-his-hands was sleeping in the verandah, adjoining the +courtyard, and when he heard the noise of people jumping about, he +opened his eyes, and to his terror saw some <i>bhûtas</i> in the +court. Without opening his mouth he quietly rolled himself <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb98" href="#pb98" name="pb98">98</a>]</span>along +the ground, and went to the room where Mr. Mighty-of-his-mouth was +sleeping with his wife and children. Tapping gently at the door he +awoke his friend and said:</p> +<p>“What shall we do now? The <i>bhûtas</i> have invaded +our house, and will soon kill us.”</p> +<p>Mr. Mighty-of-his-mouth told him quietly not to be afraid, but to go +and sleep in his original place, and that he himself would make the +<i>bhûtas</i> run away. Mr. Mighty-of-his-hands did not +understand what his friend meant, but not wishing to argue rolled his +way back to his original place and pretended to sleep, though his heart +was beating terribly with fright. Mr. Mighty-of-his-mouth now awoke his +wife, and instructed her thus:</p> +<p>“My dearest wife, the foolish <i>bhûtas</i> have invaded +our house, but if you act according to my advice we are safe, and the +goblins will depart harmlessly. What I want you to do is, to go to the +hall and light a lamp, spread leaves on the floor, and then pretend to +awake me for my supper. I shall get up and enquire what you have ready +to give me to eat. You will then reply that you have only pepper water +and vegetables. With an angry face I shall say, ‘What have you +done with the three <i>bhûtas</i> that our son caught hold of on +his way back from school?’ Your reply must be, ‘The +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb99" href="#pb99" name= +"pb99">99</a>]</span>rogue wanted some sweetmeats on coming home. +Unfortunately I had none in the house, so he roasted the three +<i>bhûtas</i> and gobbled them up.’”</p> +<p>Thus instructing his wife Mr. Mighty-of-his-mouth pretended to go to +sleep. The wife accordingly spread the leaves and called her husband +for his supper. During the conversation that followed, the fact that +the son had roasted three goblins for sweetmeats was conveyed to the +<i>bhûtas</i>. They shuddered at the son’s extraordinary +ability, and thought,</p> +<p>“What must the father do for his meals when a son roasts three +<i>bhûtas</i> for sweetmeats?”</p> +<p>So they at once took to their heels. Then going to the brother they +had jeered at, they said to him that indeed the <i>kûtas</i> were +their greatest enemies, and that none of their lives were safe while +they remained where they were, as on that very evening the son of a +<i>kûta</i> had roasted three of them for sweetmeats. They +therefore all resolved to fly away to the adjoining forest, and +disappeared accordingly. Thus Mr. Mighty-of-his-mouth saved himself and +his friend on two occasions from the <i>bhûtas</i>.</p> +<p>The friends after this went out one day to an adjoining village and +were returning home rather late in the evening. Darkness fell on them +before half the way was traversed, and there lay before <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb100" href="#pb100" name="pb100">100</a>]</span>them +a dense wood infested by beasts of prey: so they resolved to spend the +night in a high tree and go home next morning, and accordingly got up +into a big <i>pîpal</i>. Now this was the very wood into which +the <i>bhûtas</i> had migrated, and at midnight they all came +down with torches to catch jackals and other animals to feast upon. The +fear of Mr. Mighty-of-his-hands may be more imagined than described. +The dreaded <i>bhûtas</i> were at the foot of the very tree in +which he had taken up his abode for the night! His hands trembled. His +body shook. He lost his hold, and down he came with a horrible rustling +of leaves. His friend, however, was, as usual, ready with a device, and +bawled out:</p> +<p>“I wished to leave these poor beings to their own revelry. But +you are hungry and must needs jump down to catch some of them. Do not +fail to lay your hands on the stoutest <i>bhûta</i>.”</p> +<p>The goblins heard the voice which was already very familiar to their +ears, for was it not the <i><span class="corr" id="xd20e1889" title= +"Source: kuta">kûta</span></i> whose son had roasted up three +<i>bhûtas</i> for sweetmeats that spoke? So they ran away at +once, crying out:</p> +<p>“Alas, what misery! Our bitter enemies have followed us even +to this wood!”</p> +<p>Thus the wit of Mr. Mighty-of-his-mouth saved himself and his friend +for the third time.</p> +<p>The sun began to rise, and Mr. Mighty-of-his-hands <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb101" href="#pb101" name= +"pb101">101</a>]</span>thrice walked round Mr. Mighty-of-his-mouth and +said:</p> +<p>“My dear friend, truly you only of us two are mighty. Mere +physical strength is of no use without skill in words. The latter is +far superior to the former, and if a man possess both, he is, as it +were, a golden lotus having a sweet scent. It is enough for me now to +have arrived at this moral! With your kind permission I shall return to +my village.” Mr. Mighty-of-his-mouth asked his friend not to +consider himself under any obligation, and, after honouring him as +became his position he let him return to his village.</p> +<p>The moral of this short story is that in man there is nothing great +but mind. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb102" href="#pb102" name= +"pb102">102</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1673" href="#xd20e1673src" name="xd20e1673">1</a></span> +<i>Vâyâlvallan</i>.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1678" href="#xd20e1678src" name="xd20e1678">2</a></span> +<i>Kaiyâlvallan</i>.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1713" href="#xd20e1713src" name="xd20e1713">3</a></span> There is +no such word as <i>kûta</i> in Tamil. The Tamil and other +Dravidian languages allow rhyming repetitions of word, like +this—<i>bhûta-kûta</i>.</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch8" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="label">VIII.</h2> +<h2 class="main">The Mother-in-Law became an Ass.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Little by little the mother-in-law became an +ass—<i lang="ta-latn">vara vara mâmi kaludai pôl +ânâl̤</i>, is a proverb among the Tamil̤s, +applied to those who day by day go downwards in their progress in +study, position, or life, and based on the following story:—</p> +<p>In a certain village their lived a Brâhmaṇ with his +wife, mother, and mother-in-law. He was a very good man, and equally +kind to all of them. His mother complained of nothing at his hands, but +his wife was a very bad-tempered woman, and always troubled her +mother-in-law by keeping her engaged in this work or that throughout +the day, and giving her very little food in the evening. Owing to this +the poor Brâhmaṇ’s mother was almost dying of misery. +On the other hand, her own mother received very kind treatment, of +course, at her daughter’s hands, but the husband was so +completely ruled by his wife, that he had no strength of mind to oppose +her ill-treatment of his mother.</p> +<p>One evening, just before sunset, the wife abused <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb103" href="#pb103" name="pb103">103</a>]</span>her +mother-in-law with such fury, that the latter had to fly away to escape +a thrashing. Full of misery she ran out of the village, but the sun had +begun to set, and the darkness of night was fast overtaking her. So +finding a ruined temple she entered it to pass the night there. It +happened to be the abode of the village Kâlî (goddess), who +used to come out every night at midnight to inspect her village. That +night she perceived a woman—the mother of the poor +Brâhmaṇ—lurking within her prâkâras +(boundaries), and being a most benevolent Kâlî, called out +to her, and asked her what made her so miserable that she should leave +her home on such a dark night. The Brâhmaṇî told her +story in a few words, and while she was speaking the cunning goddess +was using her supernatural powers to see whether all she said was true +or not, and finding it to be the truth, she thus replied in very +soothing tones:—</p> +<p>“I pity your misery, mother, because your daughter-in-law +troubles and vexes you thus when you have become old, and have no +strength in your body. Now take this mango,” and taking a ripe +one from out her waist-band, she gave it to the old +Brâhmaṇî with a smiling face—“eat it, and +you will soon become a young woman like your own daughter-in-law, and +then she shall no longer trouble you.” Thus consoling the +afflicted old <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb104" href="#pb104" name= +"pb104">104</a>]</span>woman, the kind-hearted Kâlî went +away. The Brâhmaṇî lingered for the remainder of the +night in the temple, and being a fond mother she did not like to eat +the whole of the mango without giving a portion of it to her son.</p> +<p>Meanwhile, when her son returned home in the evening he found his +mother absent, but his wife explained the matter to him, so as to throw +the blame on the old woman, as she always did. As it was dark he had no +chance of going out to search for her, so he waited for the daylight, +and as soon as he saw the dawn, started to look for his mother. He had +not walked far when to his joy he found her in the temple of +Kâlî.</p> +<p>“How did you pass the cold night, my dearest mother?” +said he. “What did you have for dinner? Wretch that I am to have +got myself married to a cur. Forget all her faults, and return +home.”</p> +<p>His mother shed tears of joy and sorrow, and related her previous +night’s adventure, upon which he said:—</p> +<p>“Delay not even one <i>nimisha</i> (minute), but eat this +fruit at once. I do <a id="xd20e1939" name="xd20e1939"></a>not want any +of it. Only if you become young and strong enough to stand that nasty +cur’s troubles, well and good.”</p> +<p>So the mother ate up the divine fruit, and the son took her upon his +shoulders and brought her home, on reaching which he placed her on the +ground, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb105" href="#pb105" name= +"pb105">105</a>]</span>when to his joy she was no longer an old woman, +but a young girl of sixteen, and stronger than his own wife. The +troublesome wife was now totally put down, and was powerless against so +strong a mother-in-law.</p> +<p>She did not at all like the change, and having to give up her habits +of bullying, and so she argued to herself thus:—</p> +<p>“This jade of a mother-in-law became young through the fruit +of the Kâlî, why should not my mother also do the same, if +I instruct her and send her to the same temple.”</p> +<p>So she instructed her mother as to the story she ought to give to +the goddess and sent her there. Her old mother, agreeably to her +daughter’s injunctions, went to the temple, and on meeting with +the goddess at midnight, gave a false story that she was being greatly +ill-treated by her daughter-in-law, though, in truth, she had nothing +of the kind to complain of. The goddess perceived the lie through her +divine powers, but pretending to pity her, gave her also a fruit. Her +daughter had instructed her not to eat it till next morning, and till +she saw her son-in-law.</p> +<p>As soon as morning approached, the poor hen-pecked +Brâhmaṇ was ordered by his wife to go to the temple and +fetch his mother-in-law, as he had some time back fetched away his +mother. He accordingly <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb106" href= +"#pb106" name="pb106">106</a>]</span>went, and invited her to come +home. She wanted him to eat part of the fruit, as she had been +instructed, but he refused, and so she swallowed it all, fully +expecting to become young again on reaching home. Meanwhile her +son-in-law took her on his shoulders and returned home, expecting, as +his former experience had taught him, to see his mother-in-law also +turn into a young woman. Anxiety to see how the change came on +over-came him, and half<a id="xd20e1956" name="xd20e1956"></a> way he +turned his head, and found such part of the burden on his shoulders as +he could see, to be like parts of an ass, but he took this to be a mere +preliminary stage towards youthful womanhood! Again he turned, and +again he saw the same thing several times, and the more he looked the +more his burden became like an ass, till at last when he reached home, +his burden jumped down braying like an ass and ran away.</p> +<p>Thus the Kâlî, perceiving the evil intentions of the +wife, disappointed her by turning her mother into an ass, but no one +knew of it till she actually jumped down from the shoulders of her +son-in-law.</p> +<p>This story is always cited as the explanation of the proverb quoted +above—<i lang="ta-latn">vara vara mâmi kaludai pôl +ânâl</i>—little by little the mother-in-law became an +ass, to which is also commonly added <i lang="ta-latn">ûr +varumbôdu ûlaiyida talaippattal</i>—and as she +approached the village, she began to bray. <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb107" href="#pb107" name="pb107">107</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch9" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="label">IX.</h2> +<h2 class="main">The Story of Appayya.<a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1974src" href="#xd20e1974" name="xd20e1974src">1</a></h2> +<div class="epigraph"> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line"><span lang= +"sa">अपूपेन +हताः +चोराः</span></p> +<p class="line"><span lang="sa">हता +खड्गोन +केसरी ।</span></p> +<p class="line"><span lang= +"sa">तुरंगेण +हतं +सैन्यम्‌</span></p> +<p class="line"><span lang= +"sa">विधिर्भाग्यानु +सारिणी ॥</span></p> +</div> +</div> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">In a remote village there lived a poor +Brâhmaṇ and his wife. Though several years of their wedded +life had passed, they unfortunately had no children, and so, being very +eager for a child, and having no hope of one by his first wife, the +poor Brâhmaṇ made up his mind to marry a second. His wife +would not permit it for some time, but finding her husband resolved, +she gave way, thinking within herself that she would manage somehow to +do away with the second wife. As soon as he had got her consent the +Brâhmaṇ arranged for his second marriage and wedded a +beautiful Brâhmaṇ girl. She went to live with him in the +same house with the first wife, who, thinking that she would be +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb108" href="#pb108" name= +"pb108">108</a>]</span>making the world suspicious if she did anything +suddenly, waited for some time.</p> +<p>Iśvara himself seemed to favour the new marriage, and the +second wife, a year after her wedding, becoming pregnant, went in the +sixth month of her pregnancy to her mother’s house for her +confinement. Her husband bore his separation from her patiently for a +fortnight, but after this the desire to see her again began to prey +upon his mind, and he was always asking his first wife when he ought to +go to her. She seemed to sympathise fully with his trouble, and +said:—</p> +<p>“My dearest husband, your health is daily being injured, and I +am glad that your love for her has not made it worse than it is. +To-morrow you must start on a visit to her. It is said that we should +not go empty-handed to children, a king, or a pregnant woman; so I +shall give you one hundred <i>apûpa</i> cakes, packed up +separately in a vessel, which you must give to her. You are very fond +of <i>apûpas</i> and I fear that you will eat some of them on the +way; but you had better not do so. And I will give you some cakes +packed in a cloth separately for you to eat on your journey.”</p> +<p>So the first wife spent the whole night in preparing the +<i>apûpa</i> cakes, and mixed poison in the sugar and rice-flour +of those she made for her co-wife and rival; but as she entertained no +enmity against her <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb109" href="#pb109" +name="pb109">109</a>]</span>husband the <i>apûpas</i> cakes for +him were properly prepared. By the time the morning dawned she had +packed up the hundred <i>apûpas</i> in a brass vessel which could +be easily carried on a man’s head.</p> +<p>After a light breakfast—for a heavy one is always bad before a +journey on foot—the Brâhmaṇ placed the brass vessel +on his head, and holding in his hand the kerchief containing the food +for himself on the way, started for the village of his second wife, +which happened to be at a distance of two days’ journey. He +walked in hot haste till evening approached, and when the darkness of +night overtook him the rapidity of his walk had exhausted him, and he +felt very hungry. He espied a wayside shed and a tank near his path, +and entered the water to perform his evening ablution to the god of the +day, who was fast going down below the horizon. As soon as this was +over he untied his kerchief, and did full justice to its contents by +swallowing every cake whole. He then drank some water, and being quite +overcome by fatigue, fell into a deep slumber in the shed, with his +brass vessel and its sweet, or rather poisonous, contents under his +head.</p> +<p>Close by the spot where the Brâhmaṇ slept there reigned +a famous king who had a very beautiful daughter. Several persons +demanded her hand in marriage, among whom was a robber chieftain who +wanted her for his only son. Though the king liked <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb110" href="#pb110" name="pb110">110</a>]</span>the +boy for his beauty, the thought that he was only a robber for all that +prevented him from making up his mind to give his daughter in marriage +to him. The robber chief, however, was determined to have his own way, +and accordingly despatched one hundred of his band to fetch away the +princess in the night without her knowledge while she was sleeping, to +his palace in the woods. In obedience to their chieftain’s order +the robbers, on the night the Brâhmaṇ happened to sleep in +the shed, entered the king’s palace and stole away the princess, +together with the bed on which she was sleeping. On reaching the shed +the hundred robbers found themselves very thirsty—for being awake +at midnight always brings on thirst. So they placed the cot on the +ground and were entering the water to quench their thirst; just then +they smelt the <i>apûpa</i> cakes, which, for all that they +contained poison, had a very sweet savour. The robbers searched about +the shed, and found the Brâhmaṇ sleeping on one side and +the brass vessel lying at a distance from him, for he had pushed it +from underneath his head when he had stretched himself in his sleep; +they opened the vessel, and to their joy found in it exactly one +hundred <i>apûpa</i> cakes.</p> +<p>“We have one here for each of us, and that is something better +than mere water. Let us each eat before we go into it,” said the +leader of the gang, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb111" href="#pb111" +name="pb111">111</a>]</span>and at once each man swallowed greedily +what he had in his hand, and immediately all fell down dead. Lucky it +was that no one knew of the old Brâhmaṇî’s +trick. Had the robbers had any reason to suspect it they would never +have eaten the cakes; had the Brâhmaṇ known it he would +never have brought them with him for his dear second wife. Lucky was it +for the poor old Brâhmaṇ and his second wife, and lucky was +it for the sleeping princess, that these cakes went, after all, into +the stomachs of the villainous robbers!</p> +<p>After sleeping his fill the Brâhmaṇ, who had been +dreaming of his second wife all night, awoke in haste to pursue the +remainder of his journey to her house. He could not find his brass +vessel, but near the place where he had left it he found several men of +the woods, whom he knew very well by their appearance to be robbers, as +he thought, sleeping. Angered at the loss of his vessel he took up a +sword from one of the dead robbers and cut off all their heads, +thinking all the while that he was killing one hundred living robbers, +who were sleeping after having eaten all his cakes. Presently the +princess’s cot fell under his gaze, and he approached it and +found on it a most beautiful lady fast asleep. Being an intelligent man +he perceived that the persons whose heads he had cut off must have been +some thieves, or other wicked men, who had carried her <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb112" href="#pb112" name="pb112">112</a>]</span>off. +He was not long in doubt, for not far off he saw an army marching up +rapidly with a king at its head, who was saying, “Down with the +robber who has stolen away my daughter.” The Brâhmaṇ +at once inferred that this must be the father of the sleeping princess, +and suddenly waking her up from her sleep spoke thus to her:—</p> +<p>“Behold before you the hundred robbers that brought you here a +few hours ago from your palace. I fought one and all of them +single-handed, and have killed them all.<span class="corr" id= +"xd20e2047" title="Not in source">”</span></p> +<p>The princess was highly pleased at what she heard, for she knew of +all the tricks the robbers had previously played to carry her off. So +she fell reverently at the Brâhmaṇ’s feet and +said:—</p> +<p>“Friend, never till now have I heard of a warrior who, +single-handed, fought one hundred robbers<span class="corr" id= +"xd20e2054" title="Source: ,">.</span> Your valour is unparalleled. I +<i>will</i> be your wife, if only in remembrance of your having saved +me from falling into the hands of these ruffians.”</p> +<p>Her father and his army was now near the shed, for he had all along +watched the conduct of the robber chieftain, and as soon as the +maid-servants of the palace informed him of the disappearance of the +princess and her bed, he marched straight with his soldiers for the +woods. His joy, when he saw his daughter safe, knew no bounds, and he +flew into his daughter’s arms, while she pointed to the +Brâhmaṇ <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb113" href="#pb113" +name="pb113">113</a>]</span>as her preserver. The king now put a +thousand questions to our hero, who, being well versed in matters of +fighting, gave sound replies, and so came successfully out of his first +adventure. The king, astonished at his valour, took him to his palace, +and rewarded him with the hand of the princess. And the robber +chieftain, fearing the new son-in-law, who, single-handed, had killed a +hundred of his robbers, never troubled himself about the princess. Thus +the Brâhmaṇ’s first adventure ended in making him +son-in-law to a king!</p> +<p>Now there lived a lioness in a wood near the princess’s +country, who had a great taste for human flesh, and so, once a week, +the king used to send a man into the wood to serve as her prey. All the +people now collected together before the king, and said:—</p> +<p>“Most honoured king, while you have a son-in-law who killed +one hundred robbers with his sword, why should you continue to send a +man into the wood every week. We request you to send your son-in-law +next week to the wood and have the lioness killed.”</p> +<p>This seemed most reasonable to the king, who called for his +son-in-law, and sent him, armed to the teeth, into the wood.</p> +<p>Now our Brâhmaṇ could not refuse to go, for fear of +losing the fame of his former exploit, and, hoping that fortune would +favour him, he asked his father-in-law <span class="pagenum">[<a id= +"pb114" href="#pb114" name="pb114">114</a>]</span>to have him hoisted +up into a big banyan tree with all kinds of weapons, and this was done. +The appointed time for the lioness to eat her prey approached, and as +she saw no one coming for her, and as sometimes those that had to come +used to linger for a short time in the tree in which the +Brâhmaṇ had taken refuge, she went up to it to see that no +such trick has been played upon her this time. This made the +Brâhmaṇ tremble so violently that he dropped the sword he +held in his hand. At that very moment the lioness happened to yawn, and +the sword dropped right into her jaws and killed her. As soon as the +Brâhmaṇ saw the course which events had taken, he came down +from the tree, and invented a thousand stories of how he had given +battle to the terrible lioness and overcome her. This exploit fully +established his valour, and feasts and rejoicings in honour of it +followed, and the whole country round blessed the son-in-law of their +king.</p> +<p>Near this kingdom there also reigned a powerful emperor, who levied +tribute from all the surrounding countries. To this emperor the +father-in-law of our most valorous Brâhmaṇ, who, at one +stroke, had killed one hundred robbers, and, at another, a fierce +lioness, had also to pay a certain amount of tribute; but, trusting to +the power of his son-in-law, he stopped the tribute to the emperor, +who, by the way, was named Appayya Râja, and who, as soon as the +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb115" href="#pb115" name= +"pb115">115</a>]</span>tribute was stopped, invaded his dominions, and +his father-in-law besought the Brâhmaṇ for assistance.</p> +<p>Again the poor Brâhmaṇ could not refuse, for, if he did, +all his former fame would have been lost; so he determined to undertake +this adventure also, and to trust to fortune rather than give up the +attempt. He asked for the best horse and the sharpest sword, and set +out to fight the enemy, who had already encamped on the other side of +the river, which flowed at a short distance to the east of the +town.</p> +<p>Now the king had a very unruly horse, which had never been broken +in, and this he gave his son-in-law; and, supplying him with a sharp +sword, asked him to start. The Brâhmaṇ then asked the +king’s servants to tie him up with cotton strings tight on to the +saddle, and set out on the expedition.</p> +<p>The horse, having never till then felt a man on its back, began to +gallop most furiously, and flew onwards so fast that all who saw it +thought the rider must lose his life, and he too was almost dead with +fear. He tried his best to curb his steed, but the more he pulled the +faster it galloped, till giving up all hopes of life he let it take its +course. It jumped into the water and swam across to the other side of +the river, wetting the cotton cords by which the Brâhmaṇ +was tied down to the saddle, making them swell and giving him the most +excruciating pain. He bore it, however, with all the patience +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb116" href="#pb116" name= +"pb116">116</a>]</span>imaginable. Presently the horse reached the +other side of the river, where there was a big palmyra tree, which a +recent flood had left almost uprooted and ready to fall at the +slightest touch. The Brâhmaṇ, unable to stop the course of +the horse, held fast on to the tree, hoping thus to check its wild +career. But unfortunately for him the tree gave way, and the steed +galloped on so furiously that he did not know which was the +safer—to leave the tree or to hold on to it. Meanwhile the wet +cotton cords hurt him so that he, in the hopelessness of despair, +bawled out <i>appa</i>! <i>ayya</i>!<a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e2093src" href="#xd20e2093" name="xd20e2093src">2</a> On went his +steed, and still he held on to the palmyra tree. Though now fighting +for his own life, the people that were watching him from a great +distance thought him to be flying to the battlefield, armed with a +palmyra tree! The cry of lamentation, <i>appa ayya</i>, which he +uttered, his enemy mistook for a challenge, because, as we know, his +name happened to be Appayya. Horror-struck at the sight of a warrior +armed with a huge tree, his enemy turned and fled. <i>Yathâ +râjâ tathâ prajâh</i>—“As is the +king so are the subjects,”—and accordingly his followers +also fled. The Brâhmaṇ warrior (!) seeing the fortunate +course events had again taken pursued <span class="pagenum">[<a id= +"pb117" href="#pb117" name="pb117">117</a>]</span>the enemy, or rather +let his courser have its own furious way. Thus the enemy and his vast +army melted away in the twinkling of an eye, and the horse, too, when +it became exhausted, returned towards the palace.</p> +<p>The old king had been watching from the loftiest rooms of his palace +all that had passed on the other side of the river, and believing his +son-in-law had, by his own prowess, driven out the enemy, approached +him with all pomp. Eager hands quickly cut the knots by which the +victorious (!) Brâhmaṇ had been held tight in his saddle, +and his old father-in-law with tears of joy embraced him on his +victory, saying that the whole kingdom was indebted to him. A splendid +triumphal march was conducted, in which the eyes of the whole town were +directed towards our victorious hero.</p> +<p>Thus, on three different occasions, and in three different +adventures, fortune favoured the poor Brâhmaṇ and brought +him fame. He then sent for his two former wives and took them into his +palace. His second wife, who was pregnant when he first started with +the <i>apûpa</i> cakes to see her, had given birth to a male +child, who was, when she came back to him, more than a year old. The +first wife confessed to her husband her sin of having given him +poisoned cakes, and craved his pardon; and it was only now that he came +to know that the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb118" href="#pb118" +name="pb118">118</a>]</span>hundred robbers he killed in his first +adventure were all really dead men, and that they must have died from +the effects of the poison in the cakes, and, since her treachery had +given him a new start in life, he forgave her. She, too, gave up her +enmity to the partners of her husband’s bed, and all the four +lived in peace and plenty for many a long day afterwards. <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb119" href="#pb119" name="pb119">119</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e1974" href="#xd20e1974src" name="xd20e1974">1</a></span> [Compare +the tale of Fattû, the Valiant Weaver, <i>Indian Antiquary</i>, +Vol. XI., p. 282 ff.—R. C. T.]</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e2093" href="#xd20e2093src" name="xd20e2093">2</a></span> Which in +Tamil are exclamations of lamentation, meaning, Ah! Alas!</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch10" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="label">X.</h2> +<h2 class="main">The Brâhmiṇ Girl that Married a +Tiger.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">In a certain village there lived an old +Brâhmiṇ who had three sons and a daughter. The girl being +the youngest was brought up most tenderly and became spoilt, and so +whenever she saw a beautiful boy she would say to her parents that she +must be wedded to him. Her parents were, therefore, much put about to +devise excuses for taking her away from her youthful lovers. Thus +passed on some years, till the girl was very nearly grown up, and then +the parents, fearing that they would be driven out of their caste if +they failed to dispose of her hand in marriage before she came to the +years of maturity, began to be eager about finding a bridegroom for +her.</p> +<p>Now near their village there lived a fierce tiger, that had attained +to great proficiency in the art of magic, and had the power of assuming +different forms. Having a great taste for Brâhmiṇ’s +food, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb120" href="#pb120" name= +"pb120">120</a>]</span>the tiger used now and then to frequent temples +and other places of public refreshment in the shape of an old famished +Brâhmiṇ in order to share the food prepared for the +Brâhmiṇs. The tiger also wanted, if possible, a +Brâhmiṇ wife to take to the woods, and there to make her +cook his meals after her fashion. One day, when he was partaking of his +meals in Brâhmiṇ shape at a <i>satra</i><a class="noteref" +id="xd20e2128src" href="#xd20e2128" name="xd20e2128src">1</a>, he heard +the talk about the Brâhmiṇ girl who was always falling in +love with every beautiful Brâhmiṇ boy.</p> +<p>Said he to himself, “Praised be the face that I saw first this +morning. I shall assume the shape of a Brâhmiṇ boy, and +appear as beautiful can be, and win the heart of the girl.”</p> +<p>Next morning he accordingly became in the form of a great +Śâstrin (proficient in the +<i>Râmâyaṇa</i>) and took his seat near the +<i>ghâṭ</i> of the sacred river of the village. Scattering +holy ashes profusely over his body he opened the +<i>Râmâyaṇa</i> and began to read.</p> +<p>“The voice of the new Śâstrin is most enchanting. +Let us go and hear him,” said some women among themselves, and +sat down before him to hear him expound the great book. The girl for +whom the tiger had assumed this shape came in due time to bathe at the +river, and as soon as she saw the new Śâstrin fell in love +with him, and bothered her old <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb121" +href="#pb121" name="pb121">121</a>]</span>mother to speak to her father +about him, so as not to lose her new lover. The old woman too was +delighted at the bridegroom whom fortune had thrown in her way, and ran +home to her husband, who, when he came and saw the Śâstrin, +raised up his hands in praise of the great god Mahêśvara. +The Śâstrin was now invited to take his meals with them, and +as he had come with the express intention of marrying the daughter, he, +of course, agreed.</p> +<p>A grand dinner followed in honour of the Śâstrin, and his +host began to question him as to his parentage, &c., to which the +cunning tiger replied that he was born in a village beyond the adjacent +wood. The Brâhmiṇ had no time to wait for further +enquiries, and as the boy was very fair he married his daughter to him +the very next day. Feasts followed for a month, during which time the +bridegroom gave every satisfaction to his new relatives, who supposed +him to be human all the while. He also did full justice to the +Brâhmiṇ dishes, and swallowed everything that was placed +before him.</p> +<p>After the first month was over the tiger-bridegroom bethought him of +his accustomed prey, and hankered after his abode in the woods. A +change of diet for a day or two is all very well, but to renounce his +own proper food for more than a month was hard. So one day he said to +his father-in-law, “I must go back soon to my old parents, for +they will be pining <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb122" href="#pb122" +name="pb122">122</a>]</span>at my absence. But why should we have to +bear the double expense of my coming all the way here again to take my +wife to my village? So if you will kindly let me take the girl with me +I shall take her to her future home, and hand her over to her +mother-in-law, and see that she is well taken care of.”</p> +<p>The old Brâhmiṇ agreed to this, and replied, “My +dear son-in-law, you are her husband, and she is yours, and we now send +her with you, though it is like sending her into the wilderness with +her eyes tied up. But as we take you to be everything to her, we trust +you to treat her kindly.”</p> +<p>The mother of the bride shed tears at the idea of having to send her +away, but nevertheless the very next day was fixed for the journey. The +old woman spent the whole day in preparing cakes and sweetmeats for her +daughter, and when the time for the journey arrived, she took care to +place in her bundles and on her head one or two margosa<a class= +"noteref" id="xd20e2158src" href="#xd20e2158" name="xd20e2158src">2</a> +leaves to keep off demons. The relatives of the bride requested her +husband to allow her to rest wherever she found shade, and to eat +wherever she found water, and to this he agreed, and so they began +their journey.</p> +<p>The boy tiger and his human wife pursued their <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb123" href="#pb123" name= +"pb123">123</a>]</span>journey for two or three +<i>ghaṭikâs</i><a class="noteref" id="xd20e2168src" href= +"#xd20e2168" name="xd20e2168src">3</a> in free and pleasant +conversation, when the girl happened to see a fine pond, round which +the birds were warbling their sweet notes. She requested her husband to +follow her to the water’s edge and to partake of some of the +cakes and sweetmeats with her.</p> +<p>But he replied, “Be quiet, or I shall show you my original +shape.”</p> +<p>This made her afraid, so she pursued her journey in silence until +she saw another pond, when she asked the same question of her husband, +who replied in the same tone.</p> +<p>Now she was very hungry, and not liking her husband’s tone, +which she found had greatly changed ever since they had entered the +woods, said to him,</p> +<p>“Show me your original shape.”</p> +<p>No sooner were these words uttered than her husband’s form +changed from that of a man. Four legs, striped skin, a long tail, and a +tiger’s face came over him suddenly and, horror of horrors! a +tiger and not a man stood before her! Nor were her fears stilled when +the tiger in human voice began as follows:—</p> +<p>“Know henceforth that I, your husband, am a tiger—this +very tiger that now speaks to you. If you have any regard for your life +you must obey all my orders implicitly, for I can speak to you in human +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb124" href="#pb124" name= +"pb124">124</a>]</span>voice, and understand what you say. In a couple +of <i>ghaṭikâs</i> we shall reach my home, of which you +will become the mistress. In the front of my house you will see +half-a-dozen tubs, each of which you must fill up daily with some dish +or other, cooked in your own way. I shall take care to supply you with +all the provisions you want.” So saying the tiger slowly +conducted her to his house.</p> +<p>The misery of the girl may more be imagined than described, for if +she were to object she would be put to death. So, weeping all the way, +she reached her husband’s house. Leaving her there he went out +and <span class="corr" id="xd20e2194" title= +"Source: retured">returned</span> with several pumpkins and some flesh, +of which she soon prepared a curry and gave it to her husband. He went +out again after this and returned in the evening with several +vegetables and some more flesh, and gave her an order:—</p> +<p>“Every morning I shall go out in search of provisions and +prey, and bring something with me on my return; you must keep cooked +for me whatever I leave in the house.”</p> +<p>So next morning as soon as the tiger had gone away she cooked +everything left in the house and filled all the tubs with food. At the +tenth <i>ghaṭikâ</i> the tiger returned and growled +out,</p> +<p>“I smell a man! I smell a woman in my wood.” And his +wife for very fear shut herself up in the house.</p> +<p>As soon as the tiger had satisfied his appetite he <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb125" href="#pb125" name="pb125">125</a>]</span>told +her to open the door, which she did, and they talked together for a +time, after which the tiger rested awhile, and then went out hunting +again. Thus passed many a day, till the tiger’s +Brâhmiṇ wife had a son, which also turned out to be only a +tiger.</p> +<p>One day, after the tiger had gone out to the woods, his wife was +crying all alone in the house, when a crow happened to peck at some +rice that was scattered near her, and seeing the girl crying, began to +shed tears.</p> +<p>“Can you assist me?” asked the girl.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said the crow.</p> +<p>So she brought out a palmyra leaf and wrote on it with an iron nail +all her sufferings in the wood, and requested her brothers to come and +relieve her. This palmyra leaf she tied to the neck of the crow, which, +seeming to understand her thoughts, flew to her village and sat down +before one of her brothers. He untied the leaf and read the contents of +the letter and told them to his other brothers. All the three then +started for the wood, asking their mother to give them something to eat +on the way. She had not enough rice for the three, so she made a big +ball of clay and stuck it over with what rice she had, so as to make it +look like a ball of rice. This she gave to the brothers to eat on their +way, and started them off to the woods. <span class="pagenum">[<a id= +"pb126" href="#pb126" name="pb126">126</a>]</span></p> +<p>They had not proceeded long before they espied an ass. The youngest, +who was of a playful disposition, wished to take the ass with him. The +two elder brothers objected to this for a time, but in the end they +allowed him to have his own way. Further on they saw an ant, which the +middle brother took with him. Near the ant there was a big palmyra tree +lying on the ground, which the eldest took with him to keep off the +tiger.</p> +<p>The sun was now high in the horizon and the three brothers became +very hungry. So they sat down near a tank and opened the bundle +containing the ball of rice. To their utter disappointment they found +it to be all clay, but being extremely hungry they drank all the water +in the pond and continued their journey. On leaving the tank they found +a big iron tub belonging to the washerman of the adjacent village. This +they took also with them in addition to the ass, the ant, and the +palmyra tree. Following the road described by their sister in her +letter sent by the crow, they walked on and on till they reached the +tiger’s house.</p> +<p>The sister, overjoyed to see her brothers again, ran out at once to +welcome them.</p> +<p>“My dearest brothers, I am so glad to see that you have come +here to relieve me after all, but the time for the tiger’s coming +home is approaching, so hide yourselves in the loft, and wait till he +is gone.” <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb127" href="#pb127" +name="pb127">127</a>]</span></p> +<p>So saying, she helped her brothers to ascend into the loft. By this +time the tiger returned, and perceived the presence of human beings by +the peculiar smell. He asked his wife whether any one had come to their +house. She said, “No.” But when the brothers, who with +their trophies of the way—the ass, the ant, and so on—were +sitting upon the loft, saw the tiger dallying with their sister, they +were greatly frightened; so much so that the youngest, through fear, +began to quake, and they all fell on the floor.</p> +<p>“What is all this?” said the terrified tiger to his +wife.</p> +<p>“Nothing,” said she, “but your brothers-in-law. +They came here a watch<a class="noteref" id="xd20e2236src" href= +"#xd20e2236" name="xd20e2236src">4</a> ago, and as soon as you have +finished your meals they want to see you.”</p> +<p>“How can my brothers-in-law be such cowards,” thought +the tiger to himself.</p> +<p>He then asked them to speak to him, whereon the youngest brother put +the ant which he had in his hand into the ear of the ass, and as soon +as the latter was bitten, it began to bawl out most horribly.</p> +<p>“How is it that your brothers have such a hoarse voice?” +said the tiger to his wife.</p> +<p>He next asked them to show him their legs. Taking courage at the +stupidity of the tiger on <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb128" href= +"#pb128" name="pb128">128</a>]</span>the two former occasions, the +eldest brother now stretched out the palmyra tree.</p> +<p>“By my father, I have never seen such a leg,” said the +tiger, and asked his brothers-in-law to show their bellies. The second +brother now showed the tub, at which the tiger shuddered, and saying, +“such a harsh voice, so stout a leg, and such a belly, truly I +have never heard of such persons as these!” He ran away.</p> +<p>It was already dark, and the brothers, wishing to take advantage of +the tiger’s terror, prepared to return home with their sister at +once. They ate up what little food she had, and ordered her to start. +Fortunately for her her tiger-child was asleep. So she tore it into two +pieces and suspended them over the hearth, and, thus getting rid of the +child, she ran off with her brothers towards home.</p> +<p>Before leaving she bolted the front door from inside, and went out +at the back of the house. As soon as the pieces of the cub, which were +hung up over the hearth, began to roast, they dripped, which made the +fire hiss and sputter; and when the tiger returned at about midnight, +he found the door shut and heard the hissing of the fire, which he +mistook for the noise of cooking muffins.<a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e2258src" href="#xd20e2258" name="xd20e2258src">5</a></p> +<p>“I see,” said he to himself, “how very cunning +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb129" href="#pb129" name= +"pb129">129</a>]</span>you are; you have bolted the door and are +cooking muffins for your brothers. Let us see if we can’t get +your muffins.”</p> +<p>So saying he went round to the back door and entered his house, and +was greatly perplexed to find his cub torn in two and being roasted, +his house deserted by his Brâhmiṇ wife, and his property +plundered; for his wife, before leaving, had taken with her as much of +the tiger’s property as she could conveniently carry.</p> +<p>The tiger now discovered all the treachery of his wife, and his +heart grieved for the loss of his son, that was now no more. He +determined to be revenged on his wife, and to bring her back into the +wood, and there tear her into many pieces in place of only two. But how +to bring her back? He assumed his original shape of a young bridegroom, +making, of course, due allowance for the number of years that had +passed since his marriage, and next morning went to his +father-in-law’s house. His brothers-in-law and his wife saw from +a distance the deceitful form he had assumed, and devised means to kill +him. Meanwhile the tiger Brâhmiṇ approached his +father-in-law’s house, and the old people welcomed him. The +younger ones too ran here and there to bring provisions to feed him +sumptuously, and the tiger was highly pleased at the hospitable way in +which he was received. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb130" href= +"#pb130" name="pb130">130</a>]</span></p> +<p>There was a ruined well at the back of the house, and the eldest of +the brothers placed some thin sticks across its mouth, over which he +spread a fine mat. Now it is usual to ask guests to have an oil bath +before dinner, and so his three brothers-in-law requested the tiger to +take his seat on the fine mat for his bath. As soon as he sat on it, +the thin sticks being unable to bear his weight, gave way, and down +fell the cunning tiger with a heavy crash! The well was at once filled +in with stones and other rubbish, and thus the tiger was effectually +prevented from doing any more mischief.</p> +<p>But the Brâhmiṇ girl, in memory of her having married a +tiger, raised a pillar over the well and planted a +<i>tulaśi</i><a class="noteref" id="xd20e2280src" href= +"#xd20e2280" name="xd20e2280src">6</a> shrub on the top of it. Morning +and evening, for the rest of her life, she used to smear the pillar +with sacred cowdung, and water the <i>tulaśi</i> shrub.</p> +<p>This story is told to explain the Tamil proverb, “<i lang= +"ta-latn">Śummâ irukkiraya, śuruvattai +kâṭṭaṭṭuma</i>,” which +means—</p> +<p>“Be quiet, or I shall show you my original shape.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb131" href="#pb131" name= +"pb131">131</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e2128" href="#xd20e2128src" name="xd20e2128">1</a></span> A place +of public feeding.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e2158" href="#xd20e2158src" name="xd20e2158">2</a></span> Among +high caste Hindûs, when girls leave one village and go to +another, the old woman of the house—the mother or +grandmother—always places in her bundles and on her head a few +margosa leaves as a talisman against demons.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e2168" href="#xd20e2168src" name="xd20e2168">3</a></span> A +<i><span class="corr" id="xd20e2171" title= +"Source: ghatikâ">ghaṭikâ</span></i> is twenty-four +minutes. The story being Hindu, the Hindû method of reckoning +distance is used.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e2236" href="#xd20e2236src" name="xd20e2236">4</a></span> A +“watch” is a <i>yâma</i>, or three hours.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e2258" href="#xd20e2258src" name="xd20e2258">5</a></span> +Tamil̤, <i>tô’sai</i>.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e2280" href="#xd20e2280src" name="xd20e2280">6</a></span> A +fragrant herb, held in great veneration by the Hindûs; <i>Ocymum +sanctum</i>. This herb is sacred alike to Śiva and Vishnu. Those +species specially sacred to Śiva are—<i>Vendulasî</i>, +<i>Śiru-tulasî</i>, and <i>Śiva-tulasî</i>; those +to Vishnu are <i>Śendulasî</i>, <i>Karundulasî</i> and +<i>Vishnu-tulasî</i><span class="corr" id="xd20e2303" title= +"Not in source">.</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch11" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="label">XI.</h2> +<h2 class="main">The Good Husband and the Bad Wife.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">In a remote village there lived a Brâhmiṇ +whose good nature and charitable disposition were proverbial. Equally +proverbial also were the ill-nature and uncharitable disposition of the +Brâhmaṇî—his wife. But as +Paramêśvara (God) had joined them in matrimony, they had to +live together as husband and wife, though their temperaments were so +incompatible. Every day the Brâhmiṇ had a taste of his +wife’s ill-temper, and if any other Brâhmiṇ was +invited to dinner by him, his wife, somehow or other, would manage to +drive him away.</p> +<p>One fine summer morning a rather stupid Brâhmiṇ friend +of his came to visit our hero and was at once invited to dinner. He +told his wife to have dinner ready earlier than usual, and went off to +the river to bathe. His friend not feeling very well that day wanted a +hot bath at the house, and so did not <span class="pagenum">[<a id= +"pb132" href="#pb132" name="pb132">132</a>]</span>follow him to the +river, but remained sitting in the outer verandah. If any other guest +had come, the wife would have accused him of greediness to his face and +sent him away, but this visitor seemed to be a special friend of her +lord, so she did not like to say anything; but she devised a plan to +make him go away of his own accord.</p> +<p>She proceeded to smear the ground before her husband’s friend +with cowdung, and placed in the midst of it a long pestle, supporting +one end of it against the wall. She next approached the pestle most +solemnly and performed worship (<i>pûjâ</i>) to it. The +guest did not in the least understand what she was doing, and +respectfully asked her what it all meant.</p> +<p>“This is what is called pestle worship,” she replied. +“I do it as a daily duty, and this pestle is intended to break +the head of some human being in honour of a goddess, whose feet are +most devoutly worshipped by my husband. Every day as soon as he returns +from his bath in the river, he takes this pestle, which I am ordered to +keep ready for him before his return, and with it breaks the head of +any human being whom he has managed to get hold of by inviting him to a +meal. This is his tribute (<i>dakshiṇâ</i>) to the goddess; +to-day you are the victim.”</p> +<p>The guest was much alarmed.</p> +<p>“What! break the head of a guest! I at any <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb133" href="#pb133" name="pb133">133</a>]</span>rate +shall not be deceived to-day,” thought he, and prepared to run +away.</p> +<p>The Brâhmiṇ’s wife appeared to sympathise with his +sad plight, and said:—</p> +<p>“Really, I do pity you. But there is one thing you can do now +to save yourself. If you go out by the front door and walk down the +street my husband may follow you, so you had better go out by the back +door.”</p> +<p>To this plan the guest most thankfully agreed, and hastily ran off +by the back door.</p> +<p>Almost immediately our hero returned from his bath, but before he +could arrive his wife had cleaned up the place she had prepared for the +pestle worship, and when the Brâhmiṇ, not finding his +friend in the house inquired of her as to what had become of him, she +said in seeming anger:—</p> +<p>“The greedy brute! he wanted me to give him this +pestle—this very pestle which I brought forty years ago as a +dowry from my mother’s house, and when I refused he ran away by +the back-yard in haste.”</p> +<p>But her kind-hearted lord observed that he would rather lose the +pestle than his guest, even though it was a part of his wife’s +dowry, and more than forty years old. So he ran off with the pestle in +his hand after his friend, crying out,</p> +<p>“Oh Brâhmiṇ! Oh Brâhmiṇ! Stop please, +and take the pestle.” <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb134" href= +"#pb134" name="pb134">134</a>]</span></p> +<p>But the story told by the old woman now seemed all the more true to +the guest when he saw her husband running after him, and so he +said,</p> +<p>“You and your pestle may go where you please. Never more will +you catch me in your house,” and ran away. <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb135" href="#pb135" name="pb135">135</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch12" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="label">XII.</h2> +<h2 class="main">The Good Wife and the Bad Husband.<a class="noteref" +id="xd20e2371src" href="#xd20e2371" name="xd20e2371src">1</a></h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">In a remote village there lived a man and his wife, +who was a stupid little woman and believed everything that was told +her. Whenever people wanted anything from her they used to come and +flatter her; but this had to be done in the absence of her husband, +because he was a very miserly man, and would never part with any of his +money, for all he was exceedingly rich. Nevertheless, without his +knowledge cunning beggars would now and then come to his wife and beg +of her, and they used generally to succeed, as she was so amenable to +flattery. But whenever her husband found her out he would come down +heavily upon her, sometimes with words and sometimes with blows. Thus +quarrels arose, till at last, for the sake of peace, the wife had to +give up her charitable propensities.</p> +<p>Now there lived in the village a rogue of the first <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb136" href="#pb136" name= +"pb136">136</a>]</span>water, who had many a time witnessed what took +place in the rich miser’s family. Wishing to revive his old habit +of getting what he wanted from the miser’s wife he watched his +opportunity and one day, when the miser had gone out on horseback to +inspect his land, he came to his wife in the middle of the day and fell +down at the threshold as if overcome by exhaustion. She ran up to him +at once and asked him who he was.</p> +<p>“I am a native of Kailâsa<span class="corr" id= +"xd20e2386" title="Source: ”,">,”</span> said he, +“sent down by an old couple living there, for news of their son +and his wife.”</p> +<p>“Who are those fortunate dwellers on <span class="corr" id= +"xd20e2391" title="Source: Siva’s">Śiva’s</span> +mountain?” said she.</p> +<p>On this the rogue gave the names of her husband’s deceased +parents, which he had taken good care, of course, to learn from the +neighbours.</p> +<p>“Do you really come from them?” said she. “Are +they doing well there? Dear old people. How glad my husband would be to +see you, were he here! Sit down please, and take rest awhile till he +returns. How do they live there? Have they enough to eat and to dress +themselves?”</p> +<p>These and a thousand other questions she put to the rogue, who, for +his part, wanted to get away as quick as possible, as he knew full well +how he would be treated if the miser should return while he was there, +so he said:— <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb137" href="#pb137" +name="pb137">137</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Mother, language has no words to describe the miseries they +are undergoing in the other world. They have not a rag to cover +themselves, and for the last six days they have eaten nothing, and have +lived on water only. It would break your heart to see them.”</p> +<p>The rogue’s pathetic words fully deceived the good woman, who +firmly believed that he had come down from Kailâsa, sent by the +old couple to her.</p> +<p>“Why should they suffer so?” said she, “when their +son has plenty to eat and to dress himself, and when their +daughter-in-law wears all sorts of costly ornaments?”</p> +<p>With that she went into the house and came out with two boxes +containing all the clothes of herself and her husband, and gave the +whole lot to the rogue, with instructions to take them to her poor old +people in Kailâsa. She also gave him her jewel box for her +mother-in-law.</p> +<p>“But dress and jewels will not fill their hungry +stomachs,” said he.</p> +<p>Requesting him to wait a little, the silly woman brought out her +husband’s cash chest and emptied the contents into the +rogue’s coat,<a class="noteref" id="xd20e2414src" href= +"#xd20e2414" name="xd20e2414src">2</a> who now went off in haste, +promising to give everything to the good people in Kailâsa. Our +good lady in accordance with <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb138" href= +"#pb138" name="pb138">138</a>]</span>etiquette, conducted him a few +hundred yards along the road and sent news of herself through him to +her relatives, and then returned home. The rogue now tied up all his +booty in his coat and ran in haste towards the river and crossed over +it.</p> +<p>No sooner had our heroine reached home than her husband returned +after his inspection of his lands. Her pleasure at what she had done +was so great, that she met him at the door and told him all about the +arrival of the messenger from Kailâsa, and how she had sent +clothes, and jewels, and money through him to her husband’s +parents. The anger of her husband knew no bounds. But he checked +himself for a while, and asked her which road the messenger from +Kailâsa had taken, as he said he wanted to follow him and send +some more news to his parents. To this she willingly agreed and pointed +out the direction the rogue had gone. With rage in his heart at the +trick played upon his stupid wife, our hero rode on in hot haste, and +after a ride of two <i>ghaṭikâs</i> he caught sight of the +departing rogue, who, finding escape hopeless, climbed up into a big +<i>pîpal</i> tree. Our hero soon reached the bottom of the tree +and shouted to the rogue to come down.</p> +<p>“No, I cannot, this is the way to Kailâsa,” said +the rogue, and climbed up on the top of the tree.</p> +<p>Seeing no chance of the rogue’s coming down, and as there was +no third person present to whom he <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb139" +href="#pb139" name="pb139">139</a>]</span>could call for help, our hero +tied his horse to an adjacent tree and began climbing up the +<i>pîpal</i> tree himself. The rogue thanked all his gods when he +saw this, and waited till his enemy had climbed nearly up to him, and +then, throwing down his bundle of booty, leapt quickly from branch to +branch till he reached the bottom. He then got upon his enemy’s +horse, and with his bundle rode into a dense forest in which no one was +likely to find him.</p> +<p>Our hero being much older in years was no match for the rogue. So he +slowly came down, and cursing his stupidity in having risked his horse +to recover his property, returned home at his leisure. His wife, who +was waiting his arrival, welcomed him with a cheerful countenance and +said:—</p> +<p>“I thought as much, you have sent away your horse to +Kailâsa to be used by your father.”</p> +<p>Vexed as he was at his wife’s words, our hero replied in the +affirmative to conceal his own stupidity.</p> +<p>Thus, some there are in this world, who, though they may not +willingly give away anything, pretend to have done so when, by +accident, or stupidity, they happen to lose it. <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb140" href="#pb140" name="pb140">140</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e2371" href="#xd20e2371src" name="xd20e2371">1</a></span> Compare +the Singalese folktale given on p. 62, Vol I. of the +<i>Orientalist</i>.—<span class="sc">Ed.</span></p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e2414" href="#xd20e2414src" name="xd20e2414">2</a></span> +<i>Uparani</i> or <i>upavastra</i>, an upper garment.</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch13" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="label">XIII.</h2> +<h2 class="main">The Lost Camel and Other Tales.</h2> +<div class="div2"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main">First Part.</h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">There was a city called Alakapuri, famous for all the +riches that sea and land can yield, and inhabited by people speaking +different languages. In that city reigned a king named Alakesa, who was +a storehouse of all excellent qualities. He was so just a king that +during his reign the cow and the tiger amicably quenched their thirst +side by side in the same pond, the cats and the rats sported in one and +the same spot, and the kite and the parrot laid their eggs in the same +nest, as though they were “birds of a feather.”<a class= +"noteref" id="xd20e2462src" href="#xd20e2462" name="xd20e2462src">1</a> +The women never deviated from the path of virtue, and regarded their +husbands as gods. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb141" href="#pb141" +name="pb141">141</a>]</span>Timely rain refreshed the soil, and all +Alakesa’s subjects lived in plenty and happiness. In short, +Alakesa was the body, and his subjects the soul of that body, for he +was upright in all things.</p> +<p>Now there was in Alakapuri a rich merchant who lost a camel one day. +He searched for it without success in all directions, and at last +reached a road which he was informed led to another city, called +Mathurapuri, the king of which was named Mathuresa. He had under him +four excellent ministers, whose names were Bodhaditya, Bodhachandra, +Bodhavyapaka, and Bodhavibhishana. These four ministers, being, for +some reason, displeased with the king, quitted his dominions, and set +out for another country. As they journeyed along they observed the +track of a camel, and each made a remark on the peculiar condition of +the animal, judging from the footsteps and other indications on the +road.<a class="noteref" id="xd20e2471src" href="#xd20e2471" name= +"xd20e2471src">2</a> <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb142" href="#pb142" +name="pb142">142</a>]</span></p> +<p>Presently they met the merchant who was searching for his camel, +and, entering into conversation with him, one of the travellers +inquired if the animal was not lame in one of its legs; another asked +if it was not blind of the right eye; the third asked if its tail was +not unusually short; and the fourth inquired if it was not suffering +from colic. They were all answered in the affirmative by the merchant, +who was convinced that they must have seen the animal, and eagerly +demanded where they had seen it. They replied that they had seen traces +of the camel, but not the camel itself, which being inconsistent with +the minute description they had given of it, the merchant accused them +of having stolen the beast, and immediately applied to king Alakesa for +redress.</p> +<p>On hearing the merchant’s story, the king was equally +impressed with the belief that the travellers must know what had become +of the camel, and sending for them threatened them with his displeasure +if they did not confess the truth. How could they know, he demanded, +that the camel was lame or blind, or whether the tail was long or +short, or that it was suffering from any malady, unless they had it in +their possession? In reply, they each explained the reasons which had +induced them to express their belief in these particulars. The first +traveller said:— <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb143" href= +"#pb143" name="pb143">143</a>]</span></p> +<p>“I noticed in the footmarks of the animal that one was +deficient, and I concluded accordingly that it was lame of one of its +legs.”</p> +<p>The second said:—“I noticed that the leaves of the trees +on the left side of the road had been snapped or torn off, whilst those +on the right side were untouched, whence I concluded that the animal +was blind of his right eye.”</p> +<p>The third said:—“I saw some drops of blood on the road, +which I conjectured had flowed from the bites of gnats or flies, and I +thence concluded that the camel’s tail was shorter than usual, in +consequence of which he could not brush the insects away.”</p> +<p>The fourth said:—“I observed that while the forefeet of +the animal were planted firmly on the ground the hind ones appeared to +have scarcely touched it, whence I guessed that they were contracted by +pain in the belly of the animal.”</p> +<p>When the king heard their explanation he was much struck by the +sagacity of the travellers, and giving 500 pagodas to the merchant who +had lost the camel; he made the four young men his principal ministers, +and bestowed on each of them several villages as free gifts. +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb144" href="#pb144" name= +"pb144">144</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="div2" id="ch13a"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="label"><span class="corr" id="xd20e2498" title= +"Source: XIV">XIII</span>.</h3> +<h3 class="main">The Three Calamities.</h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">From that time these four <span class="corr" id= +"xd20e2505" title="Source: youug">young</span> men became the +confidential advisers of king Alakesa in all important affairs of +state, and, as night is the house of sins, they in turn kept a regular +watch in the city of Alakapuri, each patrolling the streets during +three hours of the night. Thus they continued to faithfully serve king +Alakesa, till one night, the First Minister, when his watch was over, +proceeded as usual, to see whether the royal bedchamber was properly +guarded; after which he went to the temple of the goddess <span class= +"corr" id="xd20e2508" title="Source: Kali">Kâlî</span>, +where he heard what seemed to him the voice of a woman, lamenting and +sobbing in great distress. Concealing himself behind the +<i>vad</i>-tree of the temple, he called out:—</p> +<p>“Who are you, poor woman? and why do you thus weep?”</p> +<p>At once the cries ceased, and a voice from the temple +inquired:—</p> +<p>“Who art thou that thus questionest me?”</p> +<p>Then the minister knew that it was <span class="corr" id="xd20e2522" +title="Source: Kali">Kâlî</span> herself <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb145" href="#pb145" name="pb145">145</a>]</span>who +wept; so he threw himself on the ground, and, rising up, +exclaimed:—</p> +<p>“O, my mother!—<span class="corr" id="xd20e2529" title= +"Source: Kali">Kâlî</span>!—Sambhavi!—Mahamayi!<a class="noteref" +id="xd20e2532src" href="#xd20e2532" name="xd20e2532src">3</a> Why +should you thus weep?” quoth <span class="corr" id="xd20e2543" +title="Source: Kali">Kâlî</span>.</p> +<p>“What is the use of my revealing it to thee? Canst thou render +any assistance?”</p> +<p>The minister said that, if he had but her favour, there was nothing +he could not do. Then the goddess told him that a calamity was about to +come upon the king, and fearing that such a good monarch was soon to +disappear from the world, she wept.</p> +<p>The thought of such a misfortune caused the minister to tremble; he +fell down before the goddess, and with tears streaming from his eyes +besought her to save him. <span class="corr" id="xd20e2552" title= +"Source: Kali">Kâlî</span> was much gratified to observe +his devotion to his master, and thus addressed him:—</p> +<p>“Know, then, that your king will be in danger of three +calamities to-morrow, any one of which will be sufficient to cause his +death. First of all, early in the morning, there will come to the +palace several carts containing newly-reaped paddy grains. The king +will be delighted at this, and immediately order <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb146" href="#pb146" name="pb146">146</a>]</span>a +measure of the paddy to be shelled and cooked for his morning meal. +Now, the field in which that paddy grew is the abode of serpents, two +of which were fighting together one day, when they emitted poison, +which has permeated those grains. Therefore, the morning meal of your +king will contain poison, but only in the first handful will it take +effect and he will die. Should he escape, another calamity is in store +for him at noon. The king of Vijayanagara will send to-morrow some +baskets of sweetmeats; in the first basket he has concealed arrows. +King Alakesa, suspecting no treachery, will order the first basket to +be opened in his presence, and will meet his death by that device. And +even should he escape this second calamity, a third will put an end to +his life to-morrow night. A deadly serpent will descend into his bed +room, by means of the chain of his hanging bed, and bite him. But, +should he be saved from this last misfortune, Alakesa will live long +and prosperously, till he attains the age of a hundred and twenty +years.”</p> +<p>Thus spake <span class="corr" id="xd20e2562" title= +"Source: Kali">Kâlî</span>, in tones of sorrow, for she +feared that the king would lose his life by one of these three +calamities. The Minister prostrated himself on the ground, and said +that if the goddess would grant him her favour he was confident he +could contrive to avert all the threatened evils from the king. +<span class="corr" id="xd20e2565" title= +"Source: Kali">Kâlî</span> smiled and disappeared; and the +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb147" href="#pb147" name= +"pb147">147</a>]</span>Minister, taking her kind smile as a token of +her favour, returned home and slept soundly.</p> +<p>As soon as morning dawned, the First Minister arose, and having made +the customary ablutions, proceeded to the palace. He took care to +reveal to no one the important secret communicated to him by the +goddess—not even to his three colleagues. The sun was not yet two +<i><span class="corr" id="xd20e2573" title= +"Source: ghâṭikas">ghaṭikâs</span></i><a class= +"noteref" id="xd20e2575src" href="#xd20e2575" name="xd20e2575src">4</a> +above the horizon when several carts containing the finest paddy +grains, specially selected for the king’s use, came into the +courtyard of the palace. Alakesa was present, and ordered a measure of +it to be at once shelled and cooked. The coming in of the carts and the +king’s order so exactly coincided with <span class="corr" id= +"xd20e2584" title= +"Source: Kali’s">Kâlî’s</span> words that the +Minister began to fear that he was quite unequal to the task of +averting the fatality; yet the recollection of the smile of the goddess +inspired him with fresh resolution, and he at once went to the +palace-kitchen and requested the servants to inform him when the king +was about to go to dinner. After issuing orders for the storing of the +grain, king Alakesa retired to perform his morning ablutions and other +religious duties.</p> +<p>Meanwhile a carriage containing the jars of sweetmeats sent by the +king of Vijayanagara drove up to the palace, and the emissary who +accompanied <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb148" href="#pb148" name= +"pb148">148</a>]</span>the present, told the royal servants that his +master had commanded him to deliver it to king Alakesa in person. The +First Minister well understood the meaning of this, and, promising to +bring the king, went into the palace, caused one of the servants to be +dressed like Alakesa, and conducted him to the carriage. The officer of +the Vijayanagara king placed the first jar before the supposed Alakesa, +who at once opened it, when lo! there darted forth several arrows, one +of which pierced his heart, and he fell dead on the spot.<a class= +"noteref" id="xd20e2591src" href="#xd20e2591" name="xd20e2591src">5</a> +In an instant the emissary was seized and bound, and the officers began +to lament the death of their good king. But the fatal occurrence spread +rapidly through the palace, and soon the real Alakesa made his +appearance on the scene. The officers now beheld one Alakesa dead and +fallen to the ground, pierced by the arrow, and another standing there +alive and well. The First Minister then related how, suspecting +treachery, he brought out a servant of the palace dressed like the +king, and how he had been slain in place of his royal master. Alakesa +thanked the Minister for having so ingeniously saved his life, and +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb149" href="#pb149" name= +"pb149">149</a>]</span>went into the palace. Thus was one of the three +calamities to the king averted by the faithful Bodhaditya.</p> +<p>When it was the hour for dinner, the king and his courtiers all sat +down, with the exception of the First Minister, who remained standing, +without having taken a leaf for his own use. The king, observing this, +with a smile pointed out a leaf to him,<a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e2598src" href="#xd20e2598" name="xd20e2598src">6</a> but +Bodhaditya would not sit; he wished to be near the king and to abstain +from eating on that occasion. So the king allowed him to have his own +way. The food having been served on the leaves, the hands of all, +including the king, were mingling the rice, <i><span class="corr" id= +"xd20e2607" title="Source: ghi">ghî</span></i>, and +<i><span class="corr" id="xd20e2611" title= +"Source: dhal">dhâl</span></i> for the first course. Near the +king stood his faithful Minister Bodhaditya, and, when the king raised +the first handful to his mouth, “Stop, my master,” cried +he, “I have long hoped for this handful as a present to me from +your royal hands. I pray you give it to me, and feast upon the rest of +the rice on your leaf.”</p> +<p>This was uttered more in a tone of command than of request, and the +king was highly incensed at what he naturally considered as insolence +on the part of the Minister. For such a request, especially when made +to a king, is deemed nothing less than <span class="pagenum">[<a id= +"pb150" href="#pb150" name="pb150">150</a>]</span>an insult, while to +refuse it is equally offensive. So, whatever thoughts may have passed +through Alakesa’s mind, recollecting how the Minister had that +morning saved his life, he gave him the handful of rice, which +Bodhaditya received with delight, feeling grateful for the favour of +the goddess in being the means of averting this second calamity.</p> +<p>Far different, however, were the sentiments of the king and the +assembled company. One and all declared Bodhaditya to be an insolent, +proud fellow; but the king, while secretly blaming himself for having +allowed him to use so much familiarity, suppressed his anger, in +consideration of the important service the Minister had rendered +him.</p> +<p>On the approach of night the heart of the First Minister throbbed +violently, for the third calamity predicted by the goddess was yet to +be encountered. His watch being ended, before retiring to rest, he went +to examine the royal bedroom, where he saw the light burning brightly, +and the king and queen asleep side by side in the ornamented swing cot, +which was suspended from the roof by four chains. Presently, he +perceived, with horror, a fierce black snake, the smell of which is +enough to kill a man, slowly gliding down the chain near the head of +the queen. The Minister noiselessly went forward, and with a single +stroke of his sharp sword, cut the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb151" +href="#pb151" name="pb151">151</a>]</span>venomous brute in two. +Bodhaditya, to avoid disturbing any person at such an hour of the +night, threw the pieces over the canopy of the bed, rejoicing at having +thus averted the third and last calamity. But a fresh horror then met +his eyes; a drop of the snake’s poison had fallen on the bosom of +the queen, which was exposed in the carelessness of slumber.</p> +<p>“Alas, sacred goddess,” he muttered, “why do you +thus raise up new obstacles in my efforts to avert the evil which you +predicted? I have done what I could to save the king, and in this last +attempt I have killed his beloved queen. What shall I do?”</p> +<p>Having thus briefly reflected, he wiped off the poison from the +queen’s bosom with the tip of his little finger, and, lest the +contact of the venom with his finger should endanger his own life, he +cut the tip of it off and threw it on the canopy. Just then the queen +awoke, and perceiving a man hastily leaving the room, she cried: +“Who are you?”</p> +<p>The Minister respectfully answered: “Most venerable mother! I +am your son, Bodhaditya,” and at once retired.</p> +<p>Upon this the queen thought within herself: “Alas! is there +such a thing as a good man in the world? Hitherto I have regarded this +Bodhaditya as my son; but now he has basely taken the opportunity of +thus disgracing me when my lord and I were sound asleep. I shall inform +the king of this, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb152" href="#pb152" +name="pb152">152</a>]</span>and have that wretch’s head struck +off before the morning.”</p> +<p>Accordingly she gently awakened the king, and with tears trickling +down her beauteous face, she told him what had occurred, and concluded +with these words:—“Till now, my lord, I considered that I +was wife to you alone; but this night your First Minister has made me +doubt it, since to my question, ‘Who are you?’ he answered, +without any shame, ‘I am Bodhaditya,’ and went +away.”</p> +<p>On hearing of this violation of the sanctity of his bedchamber, +Alakesa was greatly enraged, and determined to put to death such an +unprincipled servant, but first to communicate the affair to his three +other Ministers. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb153" href="#pb153" +name="pb153">153</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="div2"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="label">XIII.</h3> +<h3 class="main">Second Part.</h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">When the Second Minister’s watch was over, he +went to inspect the guard at the royal bedchamber, and Alakesa hearing +his footsteps inquired who was there.</p> +<p>“Your servant, Bodhachandra, most royal lord,” was the +reply.</p> +<p>“Enter, Bodhachandra,” said the king; “I have +somewhat to communicate to you.”</p> +<p>Then Alakesa, almost choking with rage, told him of the gross +offence of which his colleague the First Minister had been guilty, and +demanded to know whether any punishment could be too severe. +Bodhachandra humbled himself before the king, and thus +replied—</p> +<p>“My lord, such a crime merits a heavy requital. Can one tie up +fire in one’s cloth and think that as it is but a small spark it +will do us no harm? How, then, can we excuse even slight deviations +from the rules of propriety? Therefore, if Bodhaditya be really guilty, +he must be signally punished. But <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb154" +href="#pb154" name="pb154">154</a>]</span>permit me to represent to +your Majesty the advisability of carefully inquiring into this matter +before proceeding to judgment. We ought to ascertain what reasons he +had for such a breach of the harem rules; for should we, carried away +by anger, act rashly in this affair, we may repent when repentance is +of no avail. As an example, I shall, with your Majesty’s +permission relate a story.” The king having at once given his +consent, the Second Minister began to relate the <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb155" href="#pb155" name="pb155">155</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="div2" id="ch13b"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main">Story of the Honest but Rash Hunter and His Faithful +Dog.</h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">There dwelt in a certain forest a hunter named +Ugravira, who was lord of the woods, and as such, had to pay a fixed +sum of money to the king of the country. It happened once that the king +unexpectedly demanded of him one thousand five hundred +<i>pons</i>.<a class="noteref" id="xd20e2666src" href="#xd20e2666" +name="xd20e2666src">7</a> The hunter sold all his property and realised +only a thousand <i>pons</i>, and was perplexed how to procure the rest +of the required amount. At length he bethought him of his dog, which +was of the best kind, and was beloved by him more than anything else in +the whole world. He took his dog to an adjacent city, where he pledged +him to a merchant named Kubera for five hundred <i>pons</i>, at the +same time giving the merchant his bond for the loan. Before going away, +the hunter with <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb156" href="#pb156" +name="pb156">156</a>]</span>tears in his eyes, thus addressed the +intelligent animal:—</p> +<p>“Mrigasimha, [<i>i.e.</i>, lion among beasts] O my faithful +friend, do not leave thy new master until I have paid him back the +money I have borrowed of him. Obey and serve him, even as thou hast +ever obeyed and served me.”</p> +<p>Some time after this, the merchant Kubera had to leave home and +proceed with his merchandise to foreign countries: so he called the +hunter’s dog to his side, and bade him watch at his doors and +prevent the intrusion of robbers and other evil-disposed persons. The +dog indicated, both by his eyes and his tail, that he perfectly +understood his instructions. Then the merchant, having enjoined his +wife to feed the dog three times every day with rice and milk, set out +on his travels. The dog kept his watch outside the house, and for a few +days the merchant’s wife fed him regularly three times a day. But +this kind treatment was not to continue. She had for her paramour a +wicked youth of the Setti caste, who, soon after the departure of +Kubera, became a constant visitor at the merchant’s house. The +faithful dog instinctively surmised that his new master would not +approve of such conduct; so one night, when the youth was leaving the +house, Mrigasimha sprang upon him like an enraged lion, and seizing him +by the throat, sent the evildoer to <span class="pagenum">[<a id= +"pb157" href="#pb157" name="pb157">157</a>]</span>the other world. The +merchant’s wife hearing the scuffle, ran to the spot to save her +lover, but found him dead.</p> +<p>Though extremely grieved at the loss of her paramour, she had the +presence of mind to immediately carry the body to the garden at the +back of the house, where she concealed it in a great pit, and covered +it with earth and leaves, vainly thinking that she had thus concealed +her own shame. All this was not done, however, without being observed +by the watchful dog; and, henceforward, the merchant’s wife hated +him with a deadly hatred. She no longer gave him food, and the poor +creature was fain to eat such grains of rice as he found adhering to +the leaves thrown out of the house after meals, still keeping guard at +the door.</p> +<p>After an absence of two months the merchant returned, and the dog, +the moment he saw him, ran up to him and rolled himself on the ground +at his feet; then seizing the merchant’s cloth he dragged him to +the very spot in the garden where the youth’s body was hidden, +and began to scratch the ground, at the same time looking into the +merchant’s face and howling dismally, from which Kubera concluded +that the dog wished him to examine the place. Accordingly he dug up the +spot and discovered the body of the youth, whom, indeed, he had +suspected of being his wife’s paramour. In a great fury he +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb158" href="#pb158" name= +"pb158">158</a>]</span>rushed into the house and commanded his wife, on +pain of instant death, to relate the particulars of this affair without +concealing anything. The wretched woman, seeing that her sin was +discovered, confessed all, upon which her husband exclaimed!—</p> +<p>“Disgrace of womankind! you have not a fraction of the virtue +possessed by this faithful brute, which you have, out of revenge, +allowed to starve. But why should I waste words on thee? Happy am I in +having no children by thee! Depart, and let me see thy face no +more.” So saying, he thrust her out of the house. Then the +merchant fed the dog with milk, rice and sugar, after which he said to +that lion of beasts (Mrigasimha, as he was called)—</p> +<p>“Thou trusty friend, language fails to express my gratitude to +thee<span class="corr" id="xd20e2699" title="Source: ,">.</span> The +five hundred <i>pons</i> which I lent thy old master the hunter are as +nothing compared with thy services to me, by which I consider the debt +as more than paid. What must be the feelings of the hunter without thy +companionship? I now give thee leave to return to him.”</p> +<p>The merchant took the hunter’s bond, and tearing it slightly +at the top as a token that it was cancelled, he placed it in the +dog’s mouth and sent him back to his former master, and he at +once set off towards the forest.</p> +<p>Now by this time the hunter had contrived to save up the five +hundred <i>pons</i>, and with the money and <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb159" href="#pb159" name="pb159">159</a>]</span>the +interest due thereon, he was going to the merchant to redeem his bond +and reclaim his dog. To his great surprise he met Mrigasimha on the +way, and as soon as the dog perceived him he ran up to him to receive +his caresses. But the hunter immediately concluded that the poor brute, +in his eagerness to rejoin him, had run away from the merchant, and +determined to put him to death. Accordingly he plucked a creeper, and +fastening it round the dog’s neck tied him to a branch of a tree, +and the faithful creature, who was expecting nothing but kindness from +his old master, was by him most cruelly strangled. The hunter then +continued his journey, and, on reaching the merchant’s house, he +laid down the money before him.</p> +<p>“My dear friend,” said Kubera, “the important +service your dog rendered me in killing my wife’s paramour, has +amply repaid your debt, so I gave him permission to return to you, with +your bond in his mouth. Did you not meet him on your way? But why do +you look so horrified? What have you done to the dog?”</p> +<p>The hunter, to whom everything was now only too clear, threw himself +on the ground, like a huge tree cut at the root, and, after telling +Kubera how he had inconsiderately slain the faithful dog, stabbed +himself with his dagger. The merchant grieved at the death both of the +dog and the hunter, which <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb160" href= +"#pb160" name="pb160">160</a>]</span>would not have occurred had he +waited until Ugravira came to redeem his bond, snatched the weapon out +of the hunter’s breast and also stabbed himself. The news of this +tragedy soon reached the forest, and the wife of the hunter, not +wishing to survive her lord, threw herself into a well and was drowned. +Lastly, even the wife of the merchant, finding that so many fatalities +were due to her own misconduct, and that she was despised by the very +children in the streets, put an end to her wretched life.</p> +<p>“Thus,” added the Second Minister, “five lives +were lost in consequence of the hunter’s rashness. Wherefore I +would respectfully beseech your Majesty to investigate the case of +Bodhaditya, and to refrain from acting merely under the influence of +anger.”</p> +<p>Having thus spoken, Bodhachandra obtained leave to retire to his own +house. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb161" href="#pb161" name= +"pb161">161</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="div2"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="label">XIII.</h3> +<h3 class="main">Third Part.</h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">At the end of the third watch of the night, +Bodhavyapaka, the Third Minister of king Alakesa, went to see whether +the royal bedchamber was properly guarded, and the king, summoning him +to his presence, told him of the First Minister’s crime, upon +which Bodhavyapaka, after making due obeisance, thus spake:—</p> +<p>“Most noble king, such a grave crime should be severely +punished, but it behoves us not to act before having ascertained that +he is guilty beyond doubt, for evil are the consequences of +precipitation, in proof of which I know a story which I will relate, +with your Majesty’s leave.” <span class="pagenum">[<a id= +"pb162" href="#pb162" name="pb162">162</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="div2" id="ch13c"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main">Story of the Brâhmaṇ’s Wife and the +Mungoose.</h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">On the banks of the Ganges, which also flows by the +most holy city of Banaras, there is a town named Mithila, where dwelt a +very poor Brâhmaṇ called Vidyadhara. He had no children, +and to compensate for this want, he and his wife tenderly nourished in +their house a mungoose—a species of weasel. It was their all in +all—their younger son, their elder daughter—their elder +son, their younger daughter, so fondly did they regard that little +creature. The god Visvesvara and his spouse Visalakshi observed this, +and had pity for the unhappy pair; so by their divine power they +blessed them with a son. This most welcome addition to their family did +not alienate the affections of the Brâhmaṇ and his wife +from the mungoose; on the contrary, their attachment increased, for +they believed that it was because of their having adopted the pet that +a son had been born to them. So the <span class="pagenum">[<a id= +"pb163" href="#pb163" name="pb163">163</a>]</span>child and the +mungoose were brought up together, as twin brothers, in the same +cradle.</p> +<p>It happened one day when the Brâhmaṇ had gone out to beg +alms of the pious and charitable, that his wife went into the garden to +cull some pot-herbs, leaving the child asleep in his cradle, and by his +side the mungoose kept guard. An old serpent, which was living in the +well in the garden, crept into the house and under the cradle, and was +beginning to climb into it to bite the child when the mungoose fiercely +attacked it and tore it into several pieces, thus saving the life of +the Brâhmaṇ’s little son, and the venomous snake, +that came to slay, itself lay dead beneath the cradle.</p> +<p>Pleased at having performed such an exploit, the mungoose ran into +the garden to show the Brâhmaṇ’s wife its +blood-smeared mouth, but she rashly mistook the deliverer of her child +for his destroyer, and with one stroke of the knife in her hand with +which she was cutting herbs she killed the faithful creature, and then +hastened into the house to see her dead son. But there she found the +child in his cradle alive and well, only crying at the absence of his +little companion, the mungoose, and under the cradle lay the great +serpent cut to pieces. The real state of affairs was now evident, and +the Brâhmaṇ presently returning home, his wife told him of +her rash act and then put an end to her life. The <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb164" href="#pb164" name= +"pb164">164</a>]</span>Brâhmaṇ, in his turn, disconsolate +at the death of the mungoose and his wife, first slew his child and +then killed himself.</p> +<hr class="tb"> +<p>“And thus,” added the Third Minister, “by one rash +act four creatures perished, so true is it that precipitation results +in a series of calamities. Do not, then, condemn Bodhaditya before his +guilt is clearly proved.” Alakesa, having given Bodhachandra the +signal to retire, he quitted the presence and went home.</p> +<p>When the watch of the Fourth Minister, Bodhavibhishana, was +terminated, he visited the private apartments of the king (who had been +meanwhile pondering over the stories he had heard), and was called into +the sleeping chamber by Alakesa, and informed of his colleague’s +unpardonable offence. The Minister, after due prostration, thus +addressed his royal master:—</p> +<p>“Great king, I can scarcely bring myself to believe that +Bodhaditya could ever be guilty of such a crime, and I would +respectfully remind your Majesty that it would not be consistent with +your world-wide reputation for wisdom and justice were you to pronounce +judgment in this case without having inquired into all the +circumstances. Evil and injustice result from hasty decisions and +actions, of which a striking illustration is furnished in the +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb165" href="#pb165" name= +"pb165">165</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="div2" id="ch13d"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main">Story of the Faithless Wife and the Ungrateful Blind +Man.</h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">In the town of Mithila there lived a young +Brâhmaṇ who, having had a quarrel with his father-in-law, +set out on a pilgrimage to Banaras. Going through a forest he met a +blind man, whose wife was leading him by means of a stick, one end of +which she held in her hand, and her husband holding the other end was +following her. She was young and fair of face, and the pilgrim made +signs to her that she should go with him and leave her blind husband +behind. The proposal thus signified pleased this wanton woman, so she +bade her husband sit under a tree for a few minutes while she went and +plucked him a ripe mango. The blind man sat down accordingly, and his +wife went away with the Brâhmaṇ. After waiting a long time +in expectation of his wife’s return, and no person coming near +him, (for it was an unfrequented place), her infidelity became +painfully apparent to him, and he bitterly cursed both her and the +villain who had enticed her <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb166" href= +"#pb166" name="pb166">166</a>]</span>away from him. For six days he +remained at the foot of the tree, in woeful condition, without a morsel +of rice or a drop of water, and he was well nigh dead, when at length +he heard the sound of footsteps near him, and cried faintly for help. A +man of the Setti caste and his wife came up to him, and inquired how he +happened to be in such a plight. The blind man told them how his wife +had deserted him, and gone away with a young <span class="corr" id= +"xd20e2765" title="Source: Brahman">Brâhmaṇ</span> whom +they had met, leaving him there alone and helpless. His story excited +the compassion of the Setti and his wife. They gave him to eat of the +small quantity of rice they had with them, and, having supplied him +with water to quench his thirst, the Setti bade his wife lead him with +his stick. The woman, though somewhat reluctant to walk thus in company +with a man who was not her husband, yet, reflecting that charitable +actions ought never to be left undone, complied with her lord’s +request, and began to lead the blind man. After travelling in this +manner for a day, the three reached a town, and took up their abode for +the night in the house of a friend of the Setti, where the latter and +his wife gave the blind man a share of their rice before tasting a +morsel themselves. At daybreak the next morning they advised him to try +to provide for himself in some way in that town, and prepared to resume +their journey. But the blind man, forgetting all the <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb167" href="#pb167" name= +"pb167">167</a>]</span>kindness they had shown him, began to raise an +alarm, crying out:—</p> +<p>“Is there no king in this city to protect me and give me my +rights? Here is a Setti rascal taking away my wife with him! As I am +blind, she denies that I am her husband, and follows that rogue! But +will not the king give me justice?”</p> +<p>The people in the street at once reported these words to the king, +who caused inquiry to be made into the matter. The fact of the +Setti’s wife having led the blind man, seemed to indicate that +the latter, and not the Setti, was the woman’s husband, and +foolishly concluded that both the Setti and his wife were the real +criminals. Accordingly he sentenced the Setti to the gallows, because +he attempted to entice away a married woman, and his wife to be burnt +in the kiln, as she wished to forsake her husband, and he a blind man. +When these sentences were pronounced the blind man was thunder-struck. +The thought that by a deliberate lie he had caused the death of two +innocent persons now stung him to the heart. By this lie he expected +that the Setti only should be punished, and that his wife would be made +over to him as his own wife, but now he found she also was condemned to +death.</p> +<p>“Vile wretch that I am!” said he; “I do not know +what sins I committed in my former life to be thus blind now. My real +wife, too, deserted me; <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb168" href= +"#pb168" name="pb168">168</a>]</span>and I, heaping sins upon sins, +have now by a false report sent to death an innocent man and his wife, +who rescued me from a horrible fate and tended to all my wants last +night. O, <span class="corr" id="xd20e2778" title= +"Source: Mahesvara">Mahêśvara</span>! what punishment you +have in reserve for me I know not.”</p> +<p>This soliloquy, being overheard by some by-standers, was +communicated to the king, who bitterly reproaching himself for having +acted so rashly, at once released the good Setti and his wife, and +caused the ungrateful blind man to be burnt in the kiln.</p> +<p>“Thus, you see, my lord,” added the fourth Minister, +“how nearly that king had plunged himself into a gulf of crime by +his rashness. Therefore, my most noble king, I would respectfully and +humbly request you to consider well the case of Bodhaditya, and punish +him severely if he be found really guilty.”</p> +<hr class="tb"> +<p>Having thus spoken, the Fourth Minister obtained leave to depart. +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb169" href="#pb169" name= +"pb169">169</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="div2"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="label">XIII.</h3> +<h3 class="main">Fourth Part.</h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">The night was now over: darkness, the harbourer of +vice, fled away; the day dawned. King Alakesa left his bedchamber, +bathed and made his religious ablutions, and, after breakfasting, +summoned a council of all his father’s old ministers and +advisers. Alakesa took his seat in the midst of the assembly; anger was +clearly visible in his countenance; his eyes had lost their natural +expression and had turned very red; his breath was as hot as that of a +furnace. He thus addressed them:—</p> +<p>“Know ye all, the ministers of my father and of myself, that +last night, during the first watch, my First Minister, Bodhaditya, +while I and my queen were asleep in our chamber, came and touched with +his finger the bosom of my queen. Consider well the gravity of this +crime, and express your opinions as to what punishment he +merits.”</p> +<p>Thus spake king Alakesa, but all the ministers, not knowing what +answer to return, hung down <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb170" href= +"#pb170" name="pb170">170</a>]</span>their heads in silence. Among +those present was an aged minister named Manuniti, who called +Bodhaditya to his side and privately learned the whole story. He then +humbly bowed before the king, and thus spake:—</p> +<p>“Most noble king, men are not always all-wise, and, before +replying to your Majesty’s question, I beg permission to relate +in your presence the story of a king in whose reign a certain +benevolent action was repaid with disgrace and ignominy:— +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb171" href="#pb171" name= +"pb171">171</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="div2" id="ch13e"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main">Story of the Wonderful Mango Fruit.</h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">On the banks of the <span class="corr" id="xd20e2811" +title="Source: Kávéri">Kâvêrî</span> +there was a city called Tiruvidaimarudur, where ruled a king named +Chakraditya. In that city there lived a poor Brâhmaṇ and +his wife, who, having no children, brought up in their house a young +parrot as tenderly as if it had been their own offspring. One day the +parrot was sitting on the roof of the house, basking itself in the +morning sun, when a large flock of parrots flew past, talking to each +other about certain mango fruits. The Brâhmaṇ’s +parrot asked them what were the peculiar properties of those fruits, +and was informed that beyond the seven oceans there was a great mango +tree, the fruit of which gave perpetual youth to the person who ate of +it, however old and infirm he might be. On hearing of this wonder the +Brâhmaṇ’s parrot requested permission to accompany +them, which being granted, they all continued their flight. When at +length <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb172" href="#pb172" name= +"pb172">172</a>]</span>they arrived at the mango tree, all ate of its +fruit; but the Brâhmaṇ’s parrot reflected:—</p> +<p>“It would not be right for me to eat this fruit; I am young, +while my adopted parents, the poor Brâhmaṇ and his wife are +very old. So I shall give them this fruit, and they will become young +and blooming by eating it.”</p> +<p>And that same evening the good parrot brought the fruit to the +Brâhmaṇ, and explained to him its extraordinary properties. +But the Brâhmaṇ thought within himself:—</p> +<p>“I am a beggar. What matters it if I become young and live for +ever, or else die this very moment? Our king is very good and +charitable. If such a great man should eat of this fruit and renew his +youth, he would confer the greatest benefit on mankind. Therefore I +will give this mango to our good king.”</p> +<p>In pursuance of this self-denying resolution, the poor +Brâhmaṇ proceeded to the palace and presented the fruit to +the king, at the same time relating how he had obtained it and its +qualities. The king richly rewarded the Brâhmaṇ for his +gift, and sent him away. Then he began to reflect thus:—</p> +<p>“Here is a fruit which can bestow perpetual youth on the +person who eats it. I should gain this great boon for myself alone, and +what happiness could I expect under such circumstances unless +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb173" href="#pb173" name= +"pb173">173</a>]</span>shared by my friends and subjects? I shall +therefore not eat this mango-fruit, but plant it carefully in my +garden, and it will in time become a tree, which will bear much fruit +having the same wonderful virtue, and my subjects shall, every one, eat +of the fruit, and, with myself, be endowed with everlasting +youth.”</p> +<p>So, calling his gardener, the king gave him the fruit, and he +planted it in the royal presence. In due course of time the fruit grew +into a fine tree, and during the spring season it began to bud and +blossom and bear fruit. The king, having fixed upon an auspicious day +for cutting one of the mango-fruits, gave it to his domestic chaplain, +who was ninety years old, in order that his youth should be renewed. +But no sooner had the priest tasted it than he fell down dead. At this +unexpected calamity the king was both astonished and deeply grieved. +When the old priest’s wife heard of her husband’s sudden +death she came and prayed the king to allow her to perform <i>sati</i> +with him on the same funeral pyre, which increased the king’s +sorrow; but he gave her the desired permission, and himself +superintended all the ceremonies of the cremation. King Chakraditya +then sent for the poor Brâhmaṇ, and demanded of him how he +had dared to present a poisonous fruit to his king. The +Brâhmaṇ replied:—</p> +<p>“My lord, I brought up a young parrot in my <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb174" href="#pb174" name= +"pb174">174</a>]</span>house, in order to console me for having no son. +That parrot brought me the fruit one day, and told me of its wonderful +properties. Believing that the parrot spoke the truth, I presented it +to your Majesty, never for a moment suspecting it to be +poisonous.”</p> +<p>The king listened to the poor Brâhmaṇ’s words, but +thought that the poor priest’s death should be avenged. So he +consulted his ministers who recommended, as a slight punishment, that +the Brâhmaṇ should be deprived of his left eye. This was +done accordingly, and, on his return home, when his wife saw his +condition, she asked the reason of such mutilation.</p> +<p>“My dear,” said she, “the parrot we have fostered +so tenderly is the cause of this.”</p> +<p>And they resolved to break the neck of the treacherous bird. But the +parrot, having overheard their conversation, thus addressed +them:—</p> +<p>“My kind foster parents, everyone must be rewarded for the +good actions or punished for the evil deeds of his previous life. I +brought you the fruit with a good intention, but my sins in my former +life have given it a different effect. Therefore I pray you to kill me +and bury me with a little milk in a pit. And, after my funeral ceremony +is over, I request you to undertake a pilgrimage to Banaras to expiate +your own sins.”</p> +<p>So the old Brâhmaṇ and his wife killed their pet +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb175" href="#pb175" name= +"pb175">175</a>]</span>parrot and buried it as directed, after which, +overcome with grief, they set out on a pilgrimage to the Holy City.</p> +<p>Meanwhile the king commanded his gardener to set guards over the +poison-tree, and to allow no one to eat of its fruit; and all the +inhabitants soon came to know that the king had a mango tree in his +garden, the fruit of which was deadly poison. Now, there was in the +city an old washerwoman, who had frequent quarrels with her +daughter-in-law, and one day, being weary of life, she left the house, +threatening to eat of the poison tree and die.</p> +<p>The young parrot who was killed for having brought the poisonous +mango-fruit was re-born as a green parrot, and was waiting for an +opportunity to demonstrate the harmless nature of the tree; and when he +saw the old woman approach with a determination to put an end to her +life by eating of its fruit, he plucked one with his beak and dropped +it down before her. The old woman rejoiced that fate sanctioned her +death, and greedily ate the fruit, when lo! instead of dying she became +young and blooming again. Those who had seen her leave the house a +woman over sixty years of age were astonished on seeing her return as a +handsome girl of sixteen and learning that the wonderful transformation +was caused by the supposed poisonous mango-tree. <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb176" href="#pb176" name="pb176">176</a>]</span></p> +<p>The strange news soon reached the king, who, in order to test the +tree still further, ordered another fruit of it to be brought and gave +it to a goldsmith of more than ninety years of age, who had embezzled +some gold which had been entrusted to him to make into ornaments for +the ladies of the palace, and was on that account undergoing +imprisonment. When he had eaten the fruit, he, in his turn, became a +young man of sixteen. The king was now convinced that the fruit of the +mango-tree, so far from being poisonous, had the power of converting +decrepit age into lusty and perennial youth. But how had the old priest +died by eating of it?</p> +<p>It was by a mere accident. One day a huge serpent was sleeping on a +branch of the mango-tree, and its head hung over one of the fruit; +poison dropped from its mouth and fell on the rind of that fruit; the +gardener, who had no knowledge of this, when asked to bring a fruit for +the priest, happened to bring the one on which the poison had fallen, +and the priest having eaten it, died.</p> +<p>And now the king caused proclamation to be made throughout his +kingdom that all who pleased might come and partake of the mango-fruit, +and everyone ate of it and became young. But king Chakaraditya’s +heart burnt within him at the remembrance of his ill-treatment of the +poor Brâhmaṇ, who had returned with his wife from Banaras. +So <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb177" href="#pb177" name= +"pb177">177</a>]</span>he sent for him, explained his mistake, and gave +him a fruit to eat, which, having tasted, the aged Brâhmaṇ +became young and his eye was also restored to him. But the greatest +loss of all, that of the parrot who brought the fruit from beyond the +seven oceans, remained irreparable.</p> +<hr class="tb"> +<p>“Thus, my lord,” continued the old minister, Manuniti, +“it behoves us not to act precipitately in this affair of +Bodhaditya, which we must carefully sift before expressing our opinion +as to the punishment he may deserve at your majesty’s +hands.” <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb178" href="#pb178" name= +"pb178">178</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="div2"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="label">XIII.</h3> +<h3 class="main">Fifth Part.</h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">When Manuniti had concluded his story of the wonderful +mango-fruit, king Alakesa ordered his four ministers to approach the +throne, and then, with an angry countenance he thus addressed +Bodhaditya:—</p> +<p>“What excuse have you for entering my bedchamber without +permission, thus violating the rules of the harem?”</p> +<p>Bodhaditya humbly begged leave to relate to his majesty a story of +how a Brâhmaṇ fed a hungry traveller and had afterwards to +endure the infamy of having caused that traveller’s death, and on +king Alakesa signifying his consent, he thus began:— <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb179" href="#pb179" name="pb179">179</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="div2" id="ch13f"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main">Story of the Poisoned Food.</h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">There was a city called Vijayanagara, to the north of +which flowed a small river with mango topes<a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e2886src" href="#xd20e2886" name="xd20e2886src">8</a> on both +banks. One day a young Brâhmiṇ pilgrim came and sat down to +rest by the side of the stream, and, finding the place very cool and +shady, he resolved to bathe, perform his religious ablutions, and make +his dinner off the rice which he carried tied up in a bundle.</p> +<p>Three days before there had come to the same spot an old +Brâhmiṇ whose years numbered more than three score and ten; +he had quarrelled with his family, and had fled from his house to die. +Since he had reached that place he had tasted no food, and the young +pilgrim found him lying in a pitiable state, and placed near him a +portion of his rice. The old man arose, and proceeded to the rivulet in +order to wash his feet and hands, and pronounce a holy incantation or +two before tasting the food.</p> +<p>While thus engaged a kite, carrying in its beak a huge serpent, +alighted upon the tree at the foot of which was the rice given by the +pilgrim to the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb180" href="#pb180" name= +"pb180">180</a>]</span>old man, and while the bird was feasting on the +serpent some of its poison dropped on the rice, and the old +Brâhmiṇ, in his hunger, did not observe it on his return; +he greedily devoured some of the rice, and instantly fell down +dead.</p> +<p>The young pilgrim, seeing him prostrate on the ground, ran to help +him, but found that life was gone; and concluding that the old +man’s hasty eating after his three days’ fast must have +caused his death, and being unwilling to leave his corpse to be +devoured by kites and jackals, he determined to cremate it before +resuming his journey. With this object he ran to the neighbouring +village, and, reporting to the people what had occurred on the tope, +requested their assistance in cremating the old man’s body.</p> +<p>The villagers, however, suspected that the young pilgrim had killed +and robbed the old Brâhmiṇ; so they laid hold of him, and, +after giving him a severe flogging, imprisoned him in the village +temple of <span class="corr" id="xd20e2899" title= +"Source: Kali">Kâlî</span>. Alas! what a reward was this +for his kind hospitality! and how was he repaid for his +beneficence!</p> +<p>The unhappy pilgrim gave vent to his sorrows in the form of verses +in praise of the goddess in whose temple he was a prisoner; for he was +a great <span class="corr" id="xd20e2904" title= +"Source: Pandit">Paṇḍit</span>, versed in the four +<i><span class="corr" id="xd20e2908" title= +"Source: Vedas">Vêdas</span></i>, and the six <i><span class= +"corr" id="xd20e2912" title= +"Source: Sastras">Śâstras</span></i>, and the sixty-four +varieties of knowledge. On hearing the pilgrim’s verses, the rage +of the goddess descended upon the villagers, who had so <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb181" href="#pb181" name= +"pb181">181</a>]</span>rashly accused and punished him for a crime of +which he was innocent. Suddenly the whole village was destroyed by +fire, and the people lost all their property, and were houseless. In +their extremity they went to the temple of <span class="corr" id= +"xd20e2917" title="Source: Kali">Kâlî</span>, and humbly +requested the goddess to inform them of the cause of the calamity which +had thus unexpectedly come upon them. The goddess infused herself into +the person of one of the villagers, and thus responded:—</p> +<p>“Know ye, unkind villagers, that ye have most unjustly +scourged and imprisoned in our presence an innocent, charitable, and +pious Brâhmiṇ. The old man died from the effects of the +poison, which dropped from a serpent’s mouth on some rice at the +foot of a tree when it was being devoured by a kite. Ye did not know of +this; nevertheless ye have maltreated a good man without first making +due inquiry as to his guilt or innocence. For this reason we visited +your village with this calamity. Beware, and henceforward avoid such +sins.”</p> +<p>So saying, <span class="corr" id="xd20e2924" title= +"Source: Kali">Kâlî</span> departed from the person through +whom she had manifested herself.<a class="noteref" id="xd20e2927src" +href="#xd20e2927" name="xd20e2927src">9</a> Then the villagers +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb182" href="#pb182" name= +"pb182">182</a>]</span>perceived the <span class="corr" id="xd20e2934" +title="Source: grevious">grievous</span> error into which they had +fallen. They released the good pilgrim and implored his forgiveness, +which he readily granted. And thus was an innocent man charged with +murder in return for his benevolent actions.</p> +<p>“Even so,” continued Bodhaditya, “my most noble +sovereign, I have this day had to endure the infamy of having violated +the harem for saving your valuable life.”</p> +<p>He then sent for a thief who was undergoing imprisonment, and gave +him the handful of rice which he had the preceding day snatched from +the king at dinner, and the thief having eaten it, instantly died. He +next caused a servant to go to the royal bed-chamber, and fetch from +the canopy of the couch the pieces of the serpent and his little +finger-tip, which he laid before the wonder-struck king and the +counsellors, and then addressed his majesty as follows:—</p> +<p>“My most noble king, and ye wise counsellors, it is known to +you all that we four ministers keep watch over the town during the four +quarters of the night, and mine is the first watch. Well, while I was +on duty the day before yesterday, I heard a weeping voice in the +direction of the temple. I proceeded to the spot, and discovered the +goddess sobbing bitterly. She related to me how three calamities +awaited the king on the morrow. The <span class="pagenum">[<a id= +"pb183" href="#pb183" name="pb183">183</a>]</span>first of them was the +arrows despatched by the king of Vijayanagara as sweetmeats to our +Sovereign; the second was the poisoned rice, and the third the serpent. +In trying to avert these calamities, I have committed the offence of +entering the harem.”</p> +<hr class="tb"> +<p>And he thereupon explained the whole affair from first to last.</p> +<p>King Alakesa and the whole assembly were highly delighted at the +fidelity and devotion of Bodhaditya; for it was now very evident that +he had done nothing amiss, but had saved the life of the king on three +occasions, and indeed also the life of the queen by wiping off the +serpent’s poison which had fallen on her bosom. Then Alakesa +related the following story in explanation of the proverb:— +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb184" href="#pb184" name= +"pb184">184</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="div2" id="ch13g"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main">“Eating up the Protector.”<a class= +"noteref" id="xd20e2956src" href="#xd20e2956" name= +"xd20e2956src">10</a></h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">In the country of Uttara there lived a +Brâhmiṇ named Kusalanatha, who had a wife and six sons. All +lived in a state of prosperity for some time, but the entrance of +Saturn into the Brâhmiṇ’s horoscope turned everything +upside down. The once prosperous Brâhmiṇ became poor, and +was reduced to go to the neighbouring woods to gather bamboo rice with +which to feed his hungry family.<a class="noteref" id="xd20e2960src" +href="#xd20e2960" name="xd20e2960src">11</a></p> +<p>One day while plucking the bamboo ears, he saw a bush close by in +flames, in the midst of which was a serpent struggling for its life. +The Brâhmiṇ at once ran to its rescue, and stretching +towards it a long green stick the reptile crept on to it and escaped +from the flames, and then spread its hood and with a hissing sound +approached to sting its rescuer. The Brâhmiṇ began to weep +and bewail his folly in <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb185" href= +"#pb185" name="pb185">185</a>]</span>having saved the ungrateful +creature, at which the serpent asked him:—</p> +<p>“O Brâhmiṇ, why do you weep?”</p> +<p>Said the old man: “You now purpose to kill me; is this the +reward for my having saved your life?”</p> +<p>“True, you have rescued me from a terrible death, but how am I +to appease my hunger?” replied the serpent.</p> +<p>And quoth the Brâhmiṇ, “You speak of your hunger, +but who is to feed my old wife and six hungry children at my +house?”</p> +<p>The serpent, seeing the anxiety of the Brâhmiṇ, emitted +a precious gem from its hood, and bade him take it home and give it to +his wife for household expenses, after which to return to the wood to +be devoured. The old man agreed, and, solemnly promising to return +without fail, went home. Having given the gem to his family, and told +them of his pact with the serpent, the Brâhmiṇ went back to +the wood. The serpent had meanwhile reflected upon its own base +ingratitude.</p> +<p>“Is it right,” said it to itself, “to kill him who +saved me from the flames? No! I shall rather perish of hunger, if I +cannot find a prey to-day, than slay my protector.”</p> +<p>So when the old Brâhmiṇ appeared, true to his word, the +serpent presented him with another valuable gem, and after expressing a +wish that he <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb186" href="#pb186" name= +"pb186">186</a>]</span>should live long and happily with his wife and +children, went its own way, while the Brâhmiṇ returned +joyously to his home.</p> +<p>“Even as the serpent purposed acting towards its +benefactor,” continued the king, “so did I, in my rage, +intend putting to death my faithful minister and the protector of my +life, Bodhaditya; and to free myself from this grievous sin there is no +penance I should not undergo.”</p> +<hr class="tb"> +<p>Then king Alakesa ordered a thousand Brâhmiṇs to be fed +every day during his life, and many rich gifts to be distributed in +temples as atonement for his great error. And from that day Bodhaditya +and his three colleagues enjoyed still more of the royal favour. With +those four faithful ministers king Alakesa lived a most happy life and +had a most prosperous reign.</p> +<p>May there be prosperity to all! <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb187" +href="#pb187" name="pb187">187</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e2462" href="#xd20e2462src" name="xd20e2462">1</a></span> This +kind of statement often occurs in stories in proof of the just reign of +a monarch. The Hindu idea is that so long as justice and equity +characterise a king’s rule, even beasts naturally inimical are +disposed to live in friendship. When timely rain fails or famine stalks +through the land, turning his eyes from the natural causes, the +orthodox Hindu will say that such a king is now reigning over them +unjustly, and hence the calamity.—<i>Translator.</i></p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e2471" href="#xd20e2471src" name="xd20e2471">2</a></span> +“Distinguishing the peculiarities of an animal by its footsteps, +&c., is often met with in Indian stories. Precisely the reverse of +this is the tale of the four <i>blind</i> men who disputed about the +form of an elephant. One of them had felt only the elephant’s +ears, and said it was like a winnow; another examined the breast and a +foreleg, and said it was like a thick stump of wood; the third felt the +trunk, and said it was like a heavy crook; while the fourth, having +touched only the tail, declared it was like a sweeping +rake.”—<i>W. A. Clouston.</i></p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e2532" href="#xd20e2532src" name="xd20e2532">3</a></span> The +night-watch hearing the tutelary goddess of the village mourning, is a +very ancient idea. It also occurs, for example, in the story of +Viravara, in the Sanskrit book of fables entitled +“Hitopadesa.” Sambhavi and Mahamayi are different +<span class="corr" id="xd20e2534" title="Source: name">names</span> of +<span class="corr" id="xd20e2537" title= +"Source: Kali">Kâlî</span>—a fierce goddess, much +worshipped as the presiding deity of cholera and +smallpox.—<i>T.</i></p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e2575" href="#xd20e2575src" name="xd20e2575">4</a></span> A +<i><span class="corr" id="xd20e2578" title= +"Source: ghatika">ghaṭikâ</span></i> = 24 +minutes.—<i>T.</i></p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e2591" href="#xd20e2591src" name="xd20e2591">5</a></span> +Apparently the arrows were attached to some kind of mechanism which +discharged them on the opening of the jar. There is “nothing new +under the sun.” Dynamite is perhaps a discovery of our own times, +but “infernal machines,” which served the purpose of +king-killers, are of ancient date.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e2598" href="#xd20e2598src" name="xd20e2598">6</a></span> The +<span class="corr" id="xd20e2600" title= +"Source: Hindus">Hindûs</span>, at their meals, squat on the +ground, with leaves in place of earthenware dishes, on which their food +is served.—<i>T.</i></p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e2666" href="#xd20e2666src" name="xd20e2666">7</a></span> A sum of +money varying in different localities of the South of India. In the +Chola grants “<i>pon</i>” also occurs.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e2886" href="#xd20e2886src" name="xd20e2886">8</a></span> An +Indian word meaning clumps of trees.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e2927" href="#xd20e2927src" name="xd20e2927">9</a></span> It is a +very common practice to dupe the ordinary people in this manner in +Hindu temples. Some impostor will proclaim to the crowd that the spirit +of a god, or goddess, is upon him, and utters whatever comes uppermost +in his mind. He occasionally contrives to accomplish his private ends +by such “revelations.” The ignorant are greatly misled by +these impostors, and learned Hindus condemn the practice as gross +superstition.—<i>T.</i></p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e2956" href="#xd20e2956src" name="xd20e2956">10</a></span> +Corresponding to the English proverb: “Quarrelling with +one’s bread and butter.”</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e2960" href="#xd20e2960src" name="xd20e2960">11</a></span> Full +grown and ripe bamboo bears a kind of corn which when collected and +shelled resembles wheat. Hunters cook a most excellent food of bamboo +grain and honey.—<i>T.</i></p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch14" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="label">XIV.</h2> +<h2 class="main">The Monkey with the Tom-Tom.<a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e3000src" href="#xd20e3000" name="xd20e3000src">1</a></h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">In a remote wood there lived a monkey, and one day +while he was eating wood-apples, a sharp thorn from the tree ran into +the tip of his tail, he tried his best to get it out but could not. So +he proceeded to the nearest village, and calling the barber asked him +to oblige him by removing the thorn.</p> +<p>“Friend barber,” said the monkey, “a thorn has run +into my tail. Kindly remove it and I will reward you.”</p> +<p>The barber took up his razor and began to examine the tail; but as +he was cutting out the thorn he cut off the tip of the tail. The monkey +was greatly enraged and said:—</p> +<p>“Friend barber, give me back my tail. If you cannot do that, +give me your razor.”</p> +<p>The barber was now in a difficulty, and as he could not replace the +tip of the tail he had to give up his razor to the monkey. <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb188" href="#pb188" name="pb188">188</a>]</span></p> +<p>The monkey, went back to the wood with his razor thus trickishly +acquired. On the way he met an old woman, who was cutting fuel from a +dried-up tree.</p> +<p>“Grandmother, grandmother,” said the monkey, “the +tree is very hard. You had better use this sharp razor, and you will +cut your fuel easily.”</p> +<p>The poor woman was very pleased, and took the razor from the monkey. +In cutting the wood she, of course, blunted the razor, and the monkey +seeing his razor thus spoiled, said:—</p> +<p>“Grandmother, you have spoiled my razor. So you must either +give me your fuel or get me a better razor.”</p> +<p>The woman was not able to procure another razor. So she gave the +monkey her fuel and returned to her house bearing no load that day.</p> +<p>The roguish monkey now put the bundle of dry fuel on his head and +proceeded to a village to sell it. There he met an old woman seated by +the roadside and making puddings. Said the monkey to her:—</p> +<p>“Grandmother, grandmother, you are making puddings and your +fuel is already exhausted. Use mine also and make more +cakes.”</p> +<p>The old lady thanked him for his kindness and used his fuel for her +puddings. The cunning monkey waited till the last stick of his fuel was +burnt up, and then he said to the old woman<span class="corr" id= +"xd20e3033" title="Source: ;">:</span>— <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb189" href="#pb189" name="pb189">189</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Grandmother, grandmother, return me my fuel or give me all +your puddings.”</p> +<p>She was unable to return him the fuel, and so had to give him all +her puddings.</p> +<p>The monkey with the basket of puddings on his head walked and walked +till he met a <i>Paraiya</i><a class="noteref" id="xd20e3045src" href= +"#xd20e3045" name="xd20e3045src">2</a> coming with a tom-tom towards +him.</p> +<p>“Brother Paraiya,” said the monkey, “I have a +basketful of puddings to give you. Will you, in return, present me with +your tom-tom?”</p> +<p>The <i>Paraiya</i> gladly agreed, as he was then very hungry, and +had nothing with him to eat.</p> +<p>The monkey now ascended with the tom-tom to the topmost branch of a +big tree and there beat his drum most triumphantly, saying in honour of +his several tricks:—</p> +<p>“I lost my tail and got a razor; <i>ḍum +ḍum</i>.”<a class="noteref" id="xd20e3062src" href= +"#xd20e3062" name="xd20e3062src">3</a></p> +<p>“I lost my razor and got a bundle of fuel; <i>ḍum +ḍum.</i>”</p> +<p>“I lost my fuel and got a basket of puddings; <i>ḍum +ḍum</i>”.</p> +<p>“I lost my puddings and got a tom-tom; <i>ḍum +ḍum</i>.”</p> +<p>Thus there are rogues in this innocent world, who live to glory over +their wicked tricks. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb190" href="#pb190" +name="pb190">190</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e3000" href="#xd20e3000src" name="xd20e3000">1</a></span> Compare +the story of “The Rat’s Wedding” from the +Pañjâb, <i>The Indian Antiquary</i>, Vol. XI., pp, 226ff: +where, however, a better moral from the tale is drawn.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e3045" href="#xd20e3045src" name="xd20e3045">2</a></span> A low +caste man; Pariah.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e3062" href="#xd20e3062src" name="xd20e3062">3</a></span> In +response to the sound of the tom-tom.</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch15" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="label">XV.</h2> +<h2 class="main">Pride Goeth Before a Fall.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Corresponding to this English proverb, there is one in +Tamil—<i>Ahambhâ vam âlai +al̤ikkum</i>—“Self-pride brings destruction;” +and the following story is related by the common folk to illustrate +it.</p> +<p>In a certain village there lived ten cloth merchants, who always +went about together. Once upon a time they had travelled far afield, +and were returning home with a great deal of money which they had +obtained by selling their wares. Now there happened to be a dense +forest near their village, and this they reached early one morning. In +it there lived three notorious robbers, of whose existence the traders +had never heard, and while they were still in the middle of it, the +robbers stood before them, with swords and cudgels in their hands, and +ordered them to lay down all they had. The traders had no weapons with +them, and so, though they were many more in number, they had to submit +themselves to the robbers, who took away everything from them, even the +very clothes they wore, and gave to each <span class="pagenum">[<a id= +"pb191" href="#pb191" name="pb191">191</a>]</span>only a small +loin-cloth (<i>laṅgôṭî</i>), a span in breadth +and a cubit in length.</p> +<p>The idea that they had <span class="corr" id="xd20e3103" title= +"Source: conquerred">conquered</span> ten men, and plundered all their +property, now took possession of the robbers’ minds. They seated +themselves like three monarchs before the men they had plundered, and +ordered them to dance to them before returning home. The merchants now +mourned their fate. They had lost all they had, except their chief +essential, the <i>laṅgôṭî</i>, and still the +robbers were not satisfied, but ordered them to dance.</p> +<p>There was, among the ten merchants, one who was very intelligent. He +pondered over the calamity that had come upon him and his friends, the +dance they would have to perform, and the magnificent manner in which +the three robbers had seated themselves on the grass. At the same time +he observed that these last had placed their weapons on the ground, in +the assurance of having thoroughly cowed the traders, who were now +commencing to dance. So he took the lead in the dance, and, as a song +is always sung by the leader on such occasions, to which the rest keep +time with hands and feet, he thus began to sing:—</p> +<div lang="ta-latn" class="lgouter xd20e3111"> +<p class="line">Nâmânum puli per,</p> +<p class="line">Tâlanum tiru pêr:</p> +<p class="line">Sâvana tâḷanai</p> +<p class="line">Tiruvaṇan śuttinân,</p> +<p class="line">Sâvana tâlan mîdi</p> +<p class="line">Tâ tai tôm tadingaṇa.</p> +</div> +<p><span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb192" href="#pb192" name= +"pb192">192</a>]</span></p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">“We are <i>puli</i> men,</p> +<p class="line">They are <i>tiru</i> men:</p> +<p class="line">If one <i>śâ</i> man,</p> +<p class="line">Surrounds <i>tiru</i> men.</p> +<p class="line"><i>Śa</i> man remains.</p> +<p class="line"><i>Tâ, tai, tôm, <span class="corr" id= +"xd20e3153" title= +"Source: tadingana">tadingaṇa</span>.</i>”</p> +</div> +<p class="first">The robbers were all uneducated, and thought that the +leader was merely singing a song as usual. So it was in one sense; for +the leader commenced from a distance, and had sung the song over twice, +before he and his companions commenced to approach the robbers. They +had understood his meaning, which, however, even to the best educated, +unless trained to the technical expressions of trade, would have +remained a riddle.</p> +<p>When two traders discuss the price of an article in the presence of +a purchaser, they use an enigmatic form of language.</p> +<p>“What is the price of this cloth?” one trader will ask +another.</p> +<p>“<i>Puli</i> rupees,” another will reply, meaning +“ten rupees.”</p> +<p>Thus, there is no possibility of the purchaser knowing what is meant +unless he be acquainted with trade technicalities.<a class="noteref" +id="xd20e3171src" href="#xd20e3171" name="xd20e3171src">1</a> By the +rules of this secret language <i>tiru</i> means “three,” +<i>puli</i> means “ten,” and <i>śâvana</i> (or +shortly <i>śa</i>) means “one.” So <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb193" href="#pb193" name="pb193">193</a>]</span>the +leader by his song meant to hint to his fellow-traders that they were +ten men, the robbers only three, that if three pounced upon each of the +robbers, nine of them could hold them down, while the remaining one +bound the robbers’ hands and feet.</p> +<p>The three thieves, glorying in their victory, and little +understanding the meaning of the song and the intentions of the +dancers, were proudly seated chewing betel and <i>tambâk</i> +(tobacco). Meanwhile the song was sung a third time. <i>Tâ tai +tôm</i> had left the lips of the singer; and, before +<i>tadingaṇa</i> was out of them, the traders separated into +parties of three, and each party pounced upon a thief. The remaining +one—the leader himself, for to him the other nine left the +conclusion—tore up into long narrow strips a large piece of +cloth, six cubits long, and tied the hands and feet of the robbers. +These were entirely humbled now, and rolled on the ground like three +bags of rice!</p> +<p>The ten traders now took back all their property, and armed +themselves with the swords and cudgels of their enemies; and when they +reached their village, they often amused their friends and relatives by +relating their adventure.<a class="noteref" id="xd20e3202src" href= +"#xd20e3202" name="xd20e3202src">2</a> <span class="pagenum">[<a id= +"pb194" href="#pb194" name="pb194">194</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e3171" href="#xd20e3171src" name="xd20e3171">1</a></span> Traders +have also certain secret symbols for marking their prices on their +cloths.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e3202" href="#xd20e3202src" name="xd20e3202">2</a></span> This +story, apart from its folklore value, is specially interesting as +showing that the customs mentioned in the <i>Indian Antiquary</i>, Vol. +XIV., pp. 155ff., as being prevalent at Delhi, regarding secret trade +language are universal in India.</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch16" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="label">XVI.</h2> +<h2 class="main">Good Will Grow Out of Good.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">In a certain town there reigned a king named +Patnîpriya,<a class="noteref" id="xd20e3216src" href="#xd20e3216" +name="xd20e3216src">1</a> to whose court, a poor old +Brâhmiṇ, named Pâpabhîru,<a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e3221src" href="#xd20e3221" name="xd20e3221src">2</a> came every +morning, with a yellow lime in his hand, and presenting it to the king, +pronounced a benediction in Tamil:—</p> +<div lang="ta-latn" class="lgouter xd20e3111"> +<p class="line">Nanmai vidaittâl, nanmai vil̤aiyum:</p> +<p class="line">Tîmai vidaittâl, tîmai vijaiyum:</p> +<p class="line">Nanmaiyum tîmaiyum pinvara +kâṇalâm.</p> +</div> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">“If good is sown, then good will grow:</p> +<p class="line">If bad is sown, then bad will grow:</p> +<p class="line">Thus good or bad the end will show.”</p> +</div> +<p class="first">The king respected as much the noble benediction of +the Brâhmaṇ as he did his grey hairs.</p> +<p>In this way the presentation of the fruit continued daily, though +the Brâhmiṇ had nothing to request from the king, but +simply wished to pay his respects. On observing that he had no ulterior +motives, but was merely actuated by <i>râjasêvana</i>, or +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb195" href="#pb195" name= +"pb195">195</a>]</span>duty to his king, the king’s admiration +for his old morning visitor increased the more.</p> +<p>After presenting the fruit the Brâhmiṇ waited upon his +sovereign till his <i><span class="corr" id="xd20e3252" title= +"Source: pûja">pûjâ</span></i><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e3254src" href="#xd20e3254" name="xd20e3254src">3</a> was over, +and then went home where his wife kept ready for him all the requisites +for his own <i>pûjâ</i>. Pâpabhîru then partook +of what dinner his wife had prepared for him. Sometimes, however, a +Brâhmiṇ neighbour sent him an invitation to dinner, which +he at once accepted. For his father, before he breathed his last, had +called him to his bedside, and, pronouncing his last benediction, had +thus advised him in Tamil:—</p> +<div class="lgouter xd20e3111"> +<p class="line">Kâlai sôttai taḷḷâde,</p> +<p class="line">Kaṇṇil Kaṇḍadai +śollâde,</p> +<p class="line">Râjanukku payandu naḍa.”</p> +</div> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">“Morning meal do thou never spurn,</p> +<p class="line">Nor say thou what thine eyes discern,</p> +<p class="line">But serve thy king for fame to earn.”</p> +</div> +<p class="first">Thus it was that Pâpabhîru began his +visits to the king, nor did he ever reject an invitation to dinner, +though it might come at a very inconvenient time.</p> +<p>Now on a certain <i>êkâdaśi</i><a class="noteref" +id="xd20e3281src" href="#xd20e3281" name="xd20e3281src">4</a> morning, +Pâpabhîru went to the king to pay his respects as usual, +with the lime and the benediction, but found that he had gone to his +<i>pûjâ</i> and so followed him there. On <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb196" href="#pb196" name= +"pb196">196</a>]</span>seeing the Brâhmiṇ, the king’s +face glowed with pleasure, and he said:—</p> +<p>“My most revered god on earth,<a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e3291src" href="#xd20e3291" name="xd20e3291src">5</a> I thought +that some ill must have befallen you, when I missed you in the +council-hall this morning; but praised be Paramêśvara for +having sent you to me, though it is a little late. I never do my +<i>pûjâ</i> without placing my scimitar by the side of the +god, but last night I left it in my queen’s room. It is under the +pillow of the couch on which I usually sleep. Until you came I could +find no suitable person to fetch it for me, and so I have waited for +you. Would you kindly take the trouble to fetch it for me?”</p> +<p>The poor Brâhmiṇ was only too glad of the opportunity +thus presented to him of serving his king, and so he ran to the +<i>harem</i> and into the room where the king usually slept. The queen +was a very wicked woman and always having secret meetings with +courtiers of her husband, so when Pâpabhîru returned he +surprised the queen and one of her lovers walking in the garden, he +went through, however, to the king’s room, and lifting up the +king’s pillow felt for the scimitar, and went away. True however, +to his father’s words, “Nor say thou what thine eyes +discern,” he never opened his lips and went his way with a heavy +heart. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb197" href="#pb197" name= +"pb197">197</a>]</span></p> +<p>The queen and her wicked suitor were greatly alarmed.</p> +<p>“That rogue of an old Brâhmiṇ has seen us and may +report to the king at the first opportunity,” faltered the +minister.</p> +<p>But the queen, as bold in words as in sin, said; “I will have +him murdered before the sun rises. Wait you here. I shall inform the +king of what is to be done and report the result to you, and then you +may go home.”</p> +<p>So saying, she went and stood before her royal husband who was at +his worship. Patnîpriya rose up and asked her the reason of her +sudden appearance.</p> +<p>Said she, “Your Majesty seems to think the whole world as +innocent as yourself. That wretched old Brâhmiṇ, though his +hair is as white as milk, has not forgotten his younger days, he asked +me to run away with him. If you do not order his death before to-morrow +morning, I shall kill myself.”</p> +<p>The king was much vexed with what he heard, and all the regard he +had for the Brâhmiṇ disappeared at once. He called two of +his executioners and spoke to them thus before his wife:—</p> +<p>“Take to the east gate of the town a large iron caldron, and +keep it boiling to the brim with gingely oil.<a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e3322src" href="#xd20e3322" name="xd20e3322src">6</a> A certain +person shall come to you in the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb198" +href="#pb198" name="pb198">198</a>]</span>morning and ask you, +‘Is it all done?’ Without observing who he is, tie his +hands and feet and throw him into the boiling oil. When he has been +boiled to death, put out the fire and empty out the oil.”</p> +<p>The executioners received the order and went away to perform their +terrible duty. The queen, too, glad at heart at having thus +successfully arranged for the murder of the Brâhmiṇ, +reported the fact to the minister, but said nothing about the special +question to be put by the victim. The minister, much pleased, went to +his palace and waited for news of the Brâhmiṇ’s +death.</p> +<p>When his <i>pûjâ</i> was over the king sent for +Pâpabhîru, and the poor Brâhmiṇ, never having +before been sent for at such a time, made his appearance with a beating +heart. When he arrived the king, in order to arouse no suspicion in his +mind, said gently to him:—</p> +<p>“My dear Brâhmiṇ, to-morrow morning, when you go +to make your ablutions, pass by the east gate. There you will see two +persons seated by the side of a large caldron. Ask them, ‘Is it +all done?’ And whatever reply they give you, come and communicate +to me.”</p> +<p>Thus spoke the king, firmly believing that Pâpabhîru +would never return to him; while the Brâhmiṇ, glad to be +able to serve the king a second time next morning, went home and slept +soundly. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb199" href="#pb199" name= +"pb199">199</a>]</span>Early in the morning, even a +<i>ghaṭikâ</i> before his usual time, he got up, and, +placing on his head a bag containing dry clothes, proceeded to the +river for his morning bath. He took the road to the eastern gate as he +had been ordered, but had not walked far when a friend invited him to a +<i>dvâdaśi</i><a class="noteref" id="xd20e3349src" href= +"#xd20e3349" name="xd20e3349src">7</a> breakfast.</p> +<p>“My poor old mother did not taste even a drop of water the +whole of the <i>êkâdaśi,</i> (yesterday). Rice and hot +water for a bath are ready. Pour a little of the water over your +head,<a class="noteref" id="xd20e3363src" href="#xd20e3363" name= +"xd20e3363src">8</a> pronounce one <i>gâyatrî</i><a class= +"noteref" id="xd20e3371src" href="#xd20e3371" name="xd20e3371src">9</a> +and taste a handful of rice. Whatever may be the urgency of your +business, oblige me for my poor mother’s sake.”</p> +<p>Thus spoke his friend, and Pâpabhîru, out of regard to +his father’s order never to spurn a morning meal, ran in haste +into his friend’s house to oblige him; the king’s order all +the while sitting heavily on his mind.</p> +<p>Meanwhile the minister was most anxious to hear the news of the +<span class="corr" id="xd20e3378" title= +"Source: Brâhmin’s">Brâhmiṇ’s</span> +death, but was afraid to send any one to inquire about it, lest he +should <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb200" href="#pb200" name= +"pb200">200</a>]</span>arouse suspicion. So he went himself to the east +gate, as soon as the sun had risen, and asked the executioners, sitting +by the side of the caldron, by way of a simple question: “Is the +business all done?” And as they were instructed not to observe +who the person was that came to question them, but to tie him up and +boil him in the oil, they, notwithstanding his howls, bound him and +threw him in. As soon as he was dead, they extinguished the fire, +poured out the oil, turned over the caldron, corpse and all.</p> +<p>The Brâhmiṇ finished his <i>dvâdaśi</i> +breakfast, in great haste, and, with the betel leaf still in his hand, +ran to the gate to inquire of the persons seated by the caldron whether +it was all done. When he put them the question, they smilingly +replied:—</p> +<p>“Yes, Sir, it is all done. The minister is boiled to death. We +gave full execution to the king’s orders. You may go and report +the affair to him.”</p> +<p>The Brâhmiṇ, not knowing the reason for the course +events had taken, ran back and reported the reply of the executioners +to the king. The minister’s interference in the affair at once +kindled suspicion in the king’s mind. He unsheathed his scimitar, +and holding it in his right hand, twisted the lock of hair on the +Brâhmiṇ’s head into his left. He then asked him +whether he had not tried to get his wife <span class="pagenum">[<a id= +"pb201" href="#pb201" name="pb201">201</a>]</span>away from him the +previous morning, and told him that, if he concealed the truth, he +would make an end of him. The poor Brâhmiṇ now confessed +what he had seen, on which the king threw down the scimitar and fell +down on his knees before him.</p> +<p>“The words of thy benediction, O respected +Brâhmiṇ, have only now been explained to me. Thou hast sown +nothing but good; and good in having thy life preserved, hast thou +reaped. The wicked minister—whose conscious guilt made him so +very anxious to hear about thy death—because he sowed a bad +intention in his heart has reaped evil, even a death that he never +expected. Another victim of evil sowing, remains in my queen, in whom I +placed an undeserved love.”</p> +<p>So said he, and ordered her to the gallows. The old +Brâhmiṇ he appointed his minister and reigned for a long +time. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb202" href="#pb202" name= +"pb202">202</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e3216" href="#xd20e3216src" name="xd20e3216">1</a></span> +<i>i.e.</i>, lover of his wife.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e3221" href="#xd20e3221src" name="xd20e3221">2</a></span> +<i>i.e.</i>, a shudder at sin.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e3254" href="#xd20e3254src" name="xd20e3254">3</a></span> Worship +of the household gods or devotion.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e3281" href="#xd20e3281src" name="xd20e3281">4</a></span> The +eleventh lunar day of every fortnight, on which a fast is observed by +orthodox Hindûs.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e3291" href="#xd20e3291src" name="xd20e3291">5</a></span> +<i>Bhûsura</i>, <i>bhûdêva</i>; a generic name for a +Brâhmiṇ.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e3322" href="#xd20e3322src" name="xd20e3322">6</a></span> Oil of +sesamun; <i>til</i> and gingely oil are the ordinary names for this +common product of India.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e3349" href="#xd20e3349src" name="xd20e3349">7</a></span> +<i>Dvâdaśi</i> is the twelfth lunar day, on which early in +the morning, before even the fifth <i><span class="corr" id="xd20e3354" +title="Source: ghatikâ">ghaṭikâ</span></i> is over, +every orthodox Hindû is obliged by his religious codes to break +the previous day’s fast.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e3363" href="#xd20e3363src" name="xd20e3363">8</a></span> Lit. a +“chombu-full;” the <i>chombu</i> is a small vessel.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e3371" href="#xd20e3371src" name="xd20e3371">9</a></span> A sacred +hymn.</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch17" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="label">XVII.</h2> +<h2 class="main">Light Makes Prosperity.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">There is a Tamil proverb <i lang="ta-latn">dîpam +lakshmîkaram</i>, meaning, “light makes prosperity,” +and the following story is related to explain it:—</p> +<p>In the town of Gôvindapâthî there lived a merchant +named Paśupati Śeṭṭi, who had a son and a +daughter. The son’s name was Vinîta and the +daughter’s Garvî, and while still playmates they made a +mutual vow, that in case they ever had children that could be married +to each other, they would certainly see that this was done. Garvî +grew up to marry a very rich merchant, and gave birth in due course to +three daughters, the last of whom was named Sunguṇî. +Vinîta, too, had three sons. Before, however, this brother and +sister could fulfil their vow an event happened which threw a gloom +over all their expectations.</p> +<p>Paśupati Śeṭṭi died, and his +creditors—for he had many—grew troublesome. All his +property had to be sold to clear his debts, and in a month or two after +his father’s death Vinîta was reduced to the <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb203" href="#pb203" name= +"pb203">203</a>]</span>condition of a penniless pauper. But being a +sensible person he patiently bore up against his calamity, and tried +his best to live an honest life on what little was left to him.</p> +<p>His sister Garvî was, as has been already said, married into a +rich family, and when she saw the penniless condition of her brother +the engagements she had entered into with him began to trouble her. To +give or not to give her daughters in marriage to the sons of her +brother! This was the question that occupied her thoughts for several +months, till at last she determined within herself never to give poor +husbands to her children. Fortunately for her, two young merchants of +respectable family offered themselves to her two eldest daughters, she +gladly accepted them and had the weddings celebrated. The last +daughter, Suguṇî, alone remained unmarried.</p> +<p>Vinîta was sorely troubled in his heart at this +disappointment, as he never thought that his sister would thus look +down upon his poverty; but, being very sensible, he never interfered +and never said a word. The vow of his childhood was, however, known to +every one, and some came to sympathise with him; while others spoke in +a criticising tone to Garvî for having broken her promise, +because her brother had become poor through unforeseen circumstances. +Their remarks fell on the ears of Suguṇî, <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb204" href="#pb204" name="pb204">204</a>]</span>who +was as yet unmarried, and also was a very learned and sensible girl. +She found her uncle Vinîta extremely courteous and respectful, +and his sons all persons of virtue and good nature. The thought that +her mother should have forgotten all these excellent and rare qualities +in the presence of fleeting mammon (<i>asthiraiśvarya</i>) vexed +her heart very greatly. So, though it is considered most contrary to +etiquette for a girl in Hindû society to fix upon a boy as her +husband, she approached her mother and thus addressed her:—</p> +<p>“Mother, I have heard all the story about your vow to your +brother to marry us—myself and my sisters—to his sons, our +cousins; but I am ashamed to see you have unwarrantably broken it in +the case of my sisters. I cannot bear such shame. I cannot marry anyone +in the world except one of my three cousins. You must make up your mind +to give me your consent.”</p> +<p>Garvî was astonished to hear her youngest daughter talk thus +to her.</p> +<p>“You wish to marry a beggar?” said she. “We will +never agree to it, and if you persist we will give you away to your +penniless pauper, but we will never see your face again.”</p> +<p>But Suguṇî persisted. So her marriage with the youngest +son of Vinîta was arranged. He had never spoken a word about it +to his sister, but he <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb205" href= +"#pb205" name="pb205">205</a>]</span>had waited to make matches for his +children till all his sister’s daughters had been given away, and +when he heard that Suguṇî was determined to marry his +youngest son, he was very pleased. He soon fixed upon two girls from a +poor family for his other sons, and celebrated the three weddings as +became his position.</p> +<p>Suguṇî was as noble in her conduct as in her love for +her poor cousin. She was never proud or insolent on account of having +come from a rich family. Nor did she ever disregard her husband, or his +brothers, or father.</p> +<p>Now Vinîta and his sons used to go out in the mornings to +gather dried leaves which his three daughters-in-law stitched into +plates (<i>patrâvalî</i>), which the male members of the +family sold in the <i>bâzâr</i> for about four +<i>paṇams</i> each.<a class="noteref" id="xd20e3448src" href= +"#xd20e3448" name="xd20e3448src">1</a> Sometimes these leaf-plates +would go for more, sometimes for less; but whatever money the +father-in-law brought home his daughters-in-law used for the +day’s expense. The youngest of them was Suguṇî, who +spent the money most judiciously, and fed her father-in-law and his +sons sumptuously. Whatever remained she partook of with her two poor +sisters-in-law, and lived most contentedly. And the family respected +Suguṇî as a paragon of virtue, and had a <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb206" href="#pb206" name="pb206">206</a>]</span>very +great regard for her. Her parents, as they had threatened, never +returned to see how their last, and of course once beloved, child was +doing in her husband’s home. Thus passed a couple of years.</p> +<p>One day the king of the town was taking an oil bath, and pulling a +ring off his finger, left it in a niche in the open courtyard. A +<i>garuḍa</i> (<span class="corr" id="xd20e3465" title= +"Source: Brâhmaṇi">Brâhmaṇî</span> kite) +was at that moment describing circles in the air, and, mistaking the +glittering rubies in the ring for flesh, pounced upon it and flew away. +Finding it not to be flesh he dropped it in the house of +Suguṇî’s husband. She happened to be alone working in +the courtyard, while her sisters-in-law and the others were in +different parts of the house. So she took up the sparkling ring and hid +it in her lap.</p> +<p>Soon afterwards she heard a proclamation made in the street that the +king had lost a valuable ring, and that any person who could trace it +and give it back to him should obtain a great reward. +Suguṇî called her husband and his brothers and thus +addressed them:—</p> +<p>“My lord and brothers, I have the king’s ring. Exactly +at midday a <i>garuḍa</i> dropped it in our courtyard and here it +is. We must all go to the king, and there, before you three, I shall +deliver up the ring, explaining how I got it. When his majesty desires +me to name my reward I <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb207" href= +"#pb207" name="pb207">207</a>]</span>shall do so, and beg of you never +to contradict or gainsay my desires, if they appear very humble in your +opinion.”</p> +<p>The brothers agreed, and they all started for the palace. They had a +very great respect for Suguṇî and expected a good result +from this visit to the king.</p> +<p>The palace was reached, and the ring was given back to the king with +the explanation. His majesty was charmed at the modesty and +truthfulness of Suguṇî, and asked her to name her +reward.</p> +<p>“My most gracious sovereign! King of kings! Supreme lord! Only +a slight favour thy dog of a servant requests of your majesty. It is +this, that on a Friday night all the lights in the town be +extinguished, and not a lamp be lit even in the palace. Only the house +of thy dog of a servant must be lighted up with such lights as it can +afford.”</p> +<p>“Agreed, most modest lady. We grant your request, and we +permit you to have the privilege you desire this very next +Friday.”</p> +<p>Joyfully she bowed before his majesty, and returned with her husband +and the others to her house. She then pledged the last jewel she had by +her and procured some money.</p> +<p>Friday came. She fasted the whole day, and as soon as twilight +approached she called both the brothers of her husband, and thus +addressed them:— <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb208" href= +"#pb208" name="pb208">208</a>]</span></p> +<p>“My brothers, I have made arrangements for lighting up our +house with one thousand lamps to-night. One of you, without ever +closing your eyes for a moment, must watch the front of our house and +the other the back. If a woman of a graceful appearance and of feminine +majesty wishes you to permit her to enter it, boldly tell her to swear +first never to go out again. If she solemnly agrees to this, then +permit her to come in. If in the same way any woman wishes to go out, +make a similar condition that she must swear never to return at any +time in her life.”</p> +<p>What Suguṇî said seemed ridiculous to the brothers; but +they allowed her to have her way, and waited to see patiently what +would take place.</p> +<p>The whole town was gloomy that night, except +Suguṇî’s house; for, by order of his majesty, no +light was lit in any other house. The +<i>Ashṭalakshmîs</i>—the Eight +Prosperities—entered the town that night and went house by house +into every street. All of them were dark, and the only house lit up was +Suguṇî’s. They tried to enter it, but the brother at +the door stopped them and ordered them to take the oath. This they did, +and when he came to understand that these ladies were the Eight +Prosperities, he admired the sagacity of his brother’s wife.</p> +<p>A <i>nimisha</i> after the eight ladies had gone in, there +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb209" href="#pb209" name= +"pb209">209</a>]</span>came out of the house a hideous female and +requested permission to go, but the brother at the back would not +permit this unless she swore never to come back again. She solemnly +swore, and the next moment he came to know that she was +<i>Mûdêvî</i>, or Adversity, the elder sister of +Prosperity.</p> +<p>For she said:—“My sisters have come. I cannot stay here +for a minute longer. God bless you and your people. I swear by +everything sacred never to come back.”</p> +<p>And so, unable to breathe there any longer, Adversity ran away.</p> +<p>When the morning dawned, the Prosperities had already taken up a +permanent abode with the family. The rice bag became filled. The money +chest overflowed with money. The pot contained milk. And thus plenty +began to reign in Suguṇî’s house from that day. The +three brothers and her father-in-law were overjoyed at the way +Suguṇî had driven away their poverty for ever, and even +Suguṇî’s parents did not feel it a disgrace to come +and beg their daughter’s pardon. She nobly granted it and lived +with all the members of her family in prosperity for a long life.</p> +<p>It is a notion, therefore, among orthodox Hindûs, that light +in the house brings prosperity, and darkness adversity.<a class= +"noteref" id="xd20e3518src" href="#xd20e3518" name="xd20e3518src">2</a> +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb210" href="#pb210" name= +"pb210">210</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e3448" href="#xd20e3448src" name="xd20e3448">1</a></span> A +<i><span class="corr" id="xd20e3451" title= +"Source: panam">paṇam</span></i> is generally worth two +<i>ânâs</i>.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e3518" href="#xd20e3518src" name="xd20e3518">2</a></span> See also +the <a href="#ch2">second tale in this series</a>.</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch18" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="label">XVIII.</h2> +<h2 class="main">Chandralêkhâ and the Eight Robbers.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">There was an ancient city named Kaivalyam, in the +Pânḍiya country, and in that city there lived a dancing +girl named Muttumôhanâ. She was an excellent gem of +womankind, for though born of the dancing-girls’ caste, she was a +very learned and pious woman, and never would she taste her food +without first going and worshipping in the temple of <span class="corr" +id="xd20e3532" title="Source: Siva">Śiva</span>. She moved in the +society of kings, ministers, and <span class="corr" id="xd20e3535" +title="Source: Brâhmins">Brâhmiṇs</span>, and never +mingled with low people, however rich they might be. She had a daughter +named Chandralêkhâ, whom she put to school with the sons of +kings, ministers and <span class="corr" id="xd20e3538" title= +"Source: Brâhmins">Brâhmiṇs</span>. +Chandralêkhâ showed signs of very great intelligence, even +when she was beginning her alphabet, so that the master took the +greatest care with her tuition, and in less than four years she began +her lessons and became a great +<i>paṇḍitâ</i>.<a class="noteref" id="xd20e3544src" +href="#xd20e3544" name="xd20e3544src">1</a> However, as <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb211" href="#pb211" name="pb211">211</a>]</span>she +was only a dancing-girl by birth, there was no objection to her +attending to her studies in open school till she attained to maturity, +and, accordingly, up to that age she attended the school and mastered +the four <i>Vêdas</i> and <i>Śâstras</i> and the +sixty-four varieties of knowledge.</p> +<p>She then ceased to attend the school, and Muttumôhanâ +said to her:—</p> +<p>“My darling daughter, for the last seven or eight years you +have been taking lessons under the <span class="corr" id="xd20e3560" +title="Source: Brâhmin">Brâhmiṇ</span>, your master, +in the various departments of knowledge, and you must now pay a large +fee to remunerate your master’s labours in having taught you so +much. You are at liberty to take as much money as you please from my +hoard.”</p> +<p>So saying she handed over the key to her daughter, and +Chandralêkhâ, delighted at her mother’s sound advice, +filled up five baskets with five thousand <i>mohars</i> in each, and +setting them on the heads of five maid-servants, went to her +master’s house with betel leaves, areca nut, flowers and +cocoanuts in a platter in her hand, to be presented along with the +money. The servants placed the baskets before the master and stood +outside the house, while Chandralêkhâ took the dish of +betel leaves, nuts, &c., and humbly prostrated herself on the +ground before him. Then, rising up, she said:—</p> +<p>“My most holy <i>gurû</i> (master), great are the pains +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb212" href="#pb212" name= +"pb212">212</a>]</span>your holiness undertook in instructing me, and +thus destroying the darkness of my ignorance. For the last eight years +I have been a regular student under your holiness, and all the branches +of knowledge hath your holiness taught me. Though what I offer might be +insufficient for the pains your holiness took in my case, still I +humbly request your holiness to accept what I have brought.”</p> +<p>Thus said she, and respectfully pushed the baskets of <i>mohars</i> +and the betel-nut platter towards the <span class="corr" id="xd20e3580" +title="Source: Brâhmin">Brâhmiṇ</span>. She expected +to hear benedictions from her tutor, but in that we shall see she was +soon disappointed.</p> +<p>Replied the wretched <span class="corr" id="xd20e3585" title= +"Source: Brâhmin">Brâhmiṇ</span>:—</p> +<p>“My dear Chandralêkhâ, do you not know that I am +the tutor of the prince, the minister’s son and several others of +great wealth in Kaivalyam? Of money I have more than enough. I do not +want a single <i>mohar</i> from you, but what I want is that you should +marry me.”<a class="noteref" id="xd20e3593src" href="#xd20e3593" +name="xd20e3593src">2</a></p> +<p>Thus spoke the shameless teacher, and +Chandralêkhâ’s face changed colour. She was horrified +to hear such a suggestion from one whom she had thought till then to be +an incarnation of perfection. But, still hoping to convince him of the +unjustness of the request, she said:— <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb213" href="#pb213" name="pb213">213</a>]</span></p> +<p>“My most holy master! The deep respect I entertain towards +your holy feet is such that, though your holiness’s words are +plain, I am led to think that they are merely uttered to test my +character. Does not your holiness know the rules by which a preceptor +is to be regarded as a father, and that I thus stand in the +relationship of a daughter to your holiness? So kindly forget all that +your holiness has said, and accepting what I have brought in my humble +state, permit me to go home.”</p> +<p>But the wretched teacher never meant anything of the sort. He had +spoken in earnest, and his silence now and lascivious look at once +convinced the dancing-girl’s daughter of what was passing in his +mind. So she quickly went out and told her servants to take back the +money.</p> +<p>At home Muttumôhanâ was anxiously awaiting the return of +her daughter, and as soon as Chandralêkhâ came in without +the usual cheerfulness in her face, and without having given the +presents, her mother suspected that something had gone wrong, and +inquired of her daughter the cause of her gloom. She then related to +her mother the whole story of her interview with her old master. +Muttumôhanâ was glad to find such a firm heart in her +daughter, and blessed her, saying that she would be wedded to a young +husband, and lead a chaste life, though <span class="pagenum">[<a id= +"pb214" href="#pb214" name="pb214">214</a>]</span>born of the +dancing-girls’ caste. The money she safely locked up in her +room.</p> +<p>Now, the <span class="corr" id="xd20e3613" title= +"Source: Brâhmin">Brâhmiṇ</span>, in consequence of +his disappointment, was very angry with Chandralêkhâ, and, +that no young and wealthy gentleman might visit her house, he spread +reports that Chandralêkhâ was possessed of a demon +(<i>kuṭṭîchchâtti</i>). So no one approached +<span class="corr" id="xd20e3619" title= +"Source: Chandralêkkâ’s">Chandralêkhâ’s</span> +house to win her love, and her mother was much vexed. Her great wish +was that some respectable young man should secure her daughter’s +affections, but the master’s rumours stood in the way. And thus a +year passed, and the belief that a +<i>kuṭṭîchchâtti</i> had possessed +Chandralêkhâ gained firm ground.</p> +<p>After what seemed to these two to be a long period, a sage happened +to visit Muttumôhanâ’s house, and she related to him +all her daughter’s story. He listened and said:—</p> +<p>“Since the belief that a demon has taken possession of your +daughter has taken firm hold of the citizens, it is but necessary now +that she should perform (<i>pûjâ</i>) worship to the +demon-king on the night of the new moon of this month in the +cremation-ground. Let her do this and she will be all right, for then +some worthy young man can secure her affections.”</p> +<p>So saying the sage went away, and his advice seemed to be reasonable +to the mother. She very <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb215" href= +"#pb215" name="pb215">215</a>]</span>well knew that no such demon had +possessed her daughter, but that it was all the master’s idle +report. But still, to wipe away any evil notion in the minds of the +people she publicly proclaimed that her daughter would perform +<i>pûjâ</i> in the cremation-ground at midnight at the next +new moon.<a class="noteref" id="xd20e3639src" href="#xd20e3639" name= +"xd20e3639src">3</a> Now, it is always the rule in such rites that the +person who is possessed should go alone to the cremation-ground, and, +accordingly, on the night of the next new moon, +Chandralêkhâ went to the burning-ground with a basket +containing all the necessary things for worship, and a light.</p> +<p>Near Kaivalyam, at a distance of five <i>kôs</i> from it, was +a great forest called <i>Khâṇḍavam</i>. In it there +dwelt eight robbers, who used to commit the greatest havoc in the +country round. At the time that Chandralêkhâ proceeded to +the cremation-ground, these eight robbers also happened to go there to +conceal what they had stolen in the earlier <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb216" href="#pb216" name="pb216">216</a>]</span>part +of that night. Then, being relieved of their burden, they determined to +go to some other place to plunder during the latter half of the night +also. When Chandralêkhâ heard the sound of footsteps at a +distance she feared something wrong, and, covering up her glittering +light by means of her empty basket, concealed herself in a hollow +place. The thieves came and looked round about them. They found nobody, +but, fearing that some one might be near, one of them took out an +instrument called <i>kannakkôl</i>, and, whirling it round his +head, threw it towards the east. This <i>kannakkôl</i> is the +instrument by which these robbers bore holes in walls and enter +buildings, and some robbers say they get it from a thunderbolt. During +a stormy day they make a large heap of cow-dung, into which a +thunderbolt falls and leaves a rod in the middle, which is so powerful +that it can bore even through stone walls without making any noise. It +has also the attribute of obeying its master’s orders. So when +the chief of the eight robbers threw his <i>kannakkôl</i> towards +the east, true to its nature, it fell into the hole in which +Chandralêkhâ was hiding, and began to pierce her in the +back. As soon as she felt it, she dragged it out by both her hands +without making the slightest noise, and, throwing it under her feet, +stood firmly over it. The robbers, having concealed the eight boxes of +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb217" href="#pb217" name= +"pb217">217</a>]</span>wealth they had brought with them in the sands +near the cremation-ground, went away to spend the remaining part of the +night usefully in their own fashion.</p> +<p>As soon as the robbers had left the place Chandralêkhâ +came out, and, taking possession of the robbers’ rod, took out +the eight boxes that the robbers had buried. With these she quickly +hastened home, where her mother was awaiting her return. She soon made +her appearance, and related all that had occurred during the night to +her mother. They soon removed the contents of the boxes and locked them +up safely. Then, taking the empty boxes, she filled them up with +stones, old iron and other useless materials, and, arranging them two +and two by the side of each leg of her cot, went to sleep on it.</p> +<p>As the night was drawing to a close, the robbers, with still more +booty, came to the ground, and were thunderstruck when they missed +their boxes. But as the day was dawning they went away into the jungle, +leaving the investigation of the matter to the next night. They were +astonished at the trick that had been played upon them and were very +anxious to find out the thief who had outwitted thieves. Now they were +sure that their boring-rod, which they had aimed against the unknown +person who might be lurking in the <i>smaśânam</i> +(cremation-ground), must have wounded him. So one of them assumed +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb218" href="#pb218" name= +"pb218">218</a>]</span>the guise of an ointment-seller,<a class= +"noteref" id="xd20e3673src" href="#xd20e3673" name="xd20e3673src">4</a> +and, with some ointment in a cocoanut-bottle, began to walk the streets +of Kaivalyam city, crying out:—</p> +<p>“Ointment to sell. The best of ointments to cure new wounds +and old sores. Please buy my ointment.”</p> +<p>And the other seven thieves assumed seven different disguises and +also went wandering round the streets of the city. A maid-servant of +Chandralêkhâ had seen that her mistress was suffering from +the effects of a wound in her back, and never suspecting a thief in the +medicine seller, called out to the ointment-man and took him inside the +house. She then informed Chandralêkhâ that she had brought +in an ointment-man, and that she would do well to buy a little of his +medicine for her wound. The clever Chandralêkhâ at once +recognised the thief in the medicine vendor, and he too, as he was a +very cunning brute, recognised in the young lady the thief of his +boxes, and found her wound to be that made by his boring-rod. They soon +parted company. The lady bought a little ointment, and the thief in +disguise, gladly giving a little of his precious stuff from his +cocoanut-bottle, went away. The eight thieves had appointed a place +outside Kaivalyam for their rendezvous, and <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb219" href="#pb219" name= +"pb219">219</a>]</span>there they learnt who had robbed them of their +treasure. Not wishing to remain idle, they chose that very night both +to break into Chandralêkhâ’s house and bring away +herself and their boxes.</p> +<p>Chandralêkhâ, too, was very careful. She locked up all +the treasures and kept the eight boxes filled with rubbish, so as to +correspond with their original weights, under the cot on which she +slept, or rather pretended to sleep, that night. The thieves in due +course made a hole into her bedroom and entered. They found her to all +appearance sound asleep, and to their still greater joy, they found +beneath her cot their eight boxes.</p> +<p>“The vixen is asleep. Let us come to-morrow night and take her +away; but first let us remove our boxes.”</p> +<p>So saying to each other, they took their boxes, each placing one on +his head, and returned in haste to their cave, which they reached early +in the morning. But when they opened the boxes to sort out their booty, +astonishment of astonishments, their eyes met only broken pieces of +stone, lumps of iron, and other such rubbish. Every one of them placed +his forefinger at right angles to the tip of his nose, and +exclaimed:—</p> +<p>“Ah! A very clever girl. She has managed to deceive us all. +But let this day pass. We shall see whether she will not fall into our +hands to-night.” <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb220" href= +"#pb220" name="pb220">220</a>]</span></p> +<p>Thus, in wonder and amazement, they spent the whole day. Nor was +Chandralêkhâ idle at her own house. She was sure she would +again see the robbers in her room that night, and, in order to be +prepared for the occasion, she made a small sharp knife out of the +robber’s rod, and kept it beneath her pillow, in the place where +she was accustomed to keep her purse containing a few betel leaves, +nuts, <i>chuṇam</i>, &c., to chew. The night came on. Early +Chandralêkhâ had her supper and retired to bed. Sleep she +could not, but she cunningly kept eyelids closed and pretended to +sleep. Even before it was midnight the eight thieves broke into her +room, saying to themselves:—</p> +<p>“This clever lady-thief sleeps soundly. We will do her no +mischief here. Let us range ourselves two and two at each leg of her +cot, and carry her away unconscious to the woods. There we can kill +her.”</p> +<p>Thus thinking, the eight thieves ranged themselves at the side of +the four legs of the cot, and, without the slightest shaking, removed +the cot with the sleeper on it outside the town. Their joy in thus +having brought away their enemy was very great, and, not fearing for +the safe custody of their prisoner, they marched to their cave. +Meanwhile Chandralêkhâ was not idle on the cot. The way to +the jungle was through a long and fine avenue of mango trees. It +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb221" href="#pb221" name= +"pb221">221</a>]</span>was the mango season, and all the branches were +hanging with bunches of ripe and unripe fruit. To make up for her +weight on the cot she kept plucking mango bunches and heaping them on +it, and as soon as a quantity which she thought would make up her +weight was upon her cot, she without the slightest noise took hold of a +branch and swung herself off it. The thieves walked on as before, the +weight on their heads not apparently diminishing, leaving our heroine +safely seated on a mango branch to pass the few remaining +<i>ghaṭikâs</i> of that anxious night there. The thieves +reached their cave just at daybreak, and when they placed their burden +down their eyes met only bunches of ripe mangoes, and not the lady they +looked for.</p> +<p>“Is she a woman of flesh and blood, or is she a devil?” +asked the chief of the next in rank.</p> +<p>“My lord! she is a woman fast enough, and if we search in the +wood we shall find her,” replied he, and at once all the eight +robbers after a light breakfast began to search for her.</p> +<p>Meanwhile the morning dawned upon Chandralêkhâ and let +her see that she was in the midst of a thick jungle. She feared to +escape in the daytime as the way was long, and she was sure that the +robbers would soon be after her. So she resolved to conceal herself in +some deep ambush and wait for the night. Before she left the cot for +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb222" href="#pb222" name= +"pb222">222</a>]</span>the mango branch she had secured in her hip the +small knife she had made for herself out of the robbers’ rod and +the purse containing the materials for chewing betel; and near the tree +into which she had climbed she saw a deep hollow surrounded by +impenetrable reeds on all sides. So she slowly let herself down from +the tree into this hollow, and anxiously waited there for the +night.</p> +<p>All this time the eight thieves were searching for her in different +places, and one of them came to the spot where Chandralêkhâ +had sat in the tree, and the dense bushes near made him suspect that +she was hidden there; so he proceeded to examine the place by climbing +up the tree. When Chandralêkhâ saw the thief on the tree +she gave up all hopes of life. But suddenly a bright thought came into +her mind, just as the man up above saw her. Putting on a most cheerful +countenance she slowly spoke to him.</p> +<p>“My dear husband, for I must term you so from this moment, +since God has elevated you now to that position, do not raise an alarm. +Come down here gently, that we may be happy in each other’s +company. You are my husband and I am your wife from this +moment.”</p> +<p>So spoke the clever Chandralêkhâ, and the head of the +thief began to turn with joy when he heard so sweet a speech, and +forgetting all her previous <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb223" href= +"#pb223" name="pb223">223</a>]</span>conduct to himself and his +brethren, he leapt into the hollow. She welcomed him with a smiling +face, in which the eager heart of the robber read sincere affection, +and gave him some betel-nut to chew and chewed some herself merrily. +Now redness of the tongue after chewing betel is always an indication +of the mutual affection of a husband and wife among the illiterate of +Hindu society. So while the betel-leaf was being chewed she put out her +tongue to show the thief how red it was, letting him see thereby how +deeply she loved him: and he, to show in return how deeply he loved +her, put out his tongue too. And she, as if examining it closely, +clutched it in her left hand, while with her right hand in the +twinkling of an eye cut off the tongue and nose of the robber, and +taking advantage of the confusion that came over him she cut his throat +and left him dead.</p> +<p>By this time evening was fast approaching, and the other seven +robbers, after fruitless search, returned to their cave, feeling sure +that the eighth man must have discovered Chandralêkhâ. They +waited and waited the whole night, but no one returned, for how could a +man who had been killed come back?</p> +<p>Our heroine, meanwhile, as soon as evening set in started homewards, +being emboldened by the occasion and the circumstances in which she was +placed. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb224" href="#pb224" name= +"pb224">224</a>]</span>She reached home safely at midnight and related +all her adventures to her mother. Overcome by exhaustion she slept the +rest of the night, and as soon as morning dawned began to strengthen +the walls of her bedroom by iron plates. To her most useful +pocket-knife she now added a bagful of powdered chillies, and went to +bed, not to sleep, but to watch for the robbers. Just as she expected, +a small hole was bored in the east wall of her bedroom, and one of the +seven robbers thrust in his head. As soon as she saw the hole our +heroine stood by the side of it with the powder and knife, and with the +latter she cut off the nose of the man who peeped in and thrust the +powder into the wound. Unable to bear the burning pain he dragged +himself back, uttering “<i>ṅa, ṅa, ṅa, +ṅa,</i>” having now no nose to pronounce properly with. A +second thief, abusing the former for having lost his nose so +carelessly, went in, and the bold lady inside dealt in the same way +with his nose, and he too, dragged himself back in the same way, +calling out “<i>ṅa, ṅa, ṅa, +ṅa.</i>” A third thief abused the second in his turn, and +going in lost his nose also. Thus all the seven thieves lost their +noses, and, fearing to be discovered if they remained, ran off to the +forest, where they had to take a few days’ rest from their +plundering habits to cure their mutilated noses.</p> +<p>Chandralêkhâ had thus three or four times disappointed +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb225" href="#pb225" name= +"pb225">225</a>]</span>the thieves. The more she disappointed them the +more she feared for her own safety, especially as she had now inflicted +a life-long shame on them.</p> +<p>“The thieves will surely come as soon as their noses are cured +and kill me in some way or other. I am, after all, only a girl,” +she thought to herself. So she went at once to the palace and reported +all her adventures with the eight robbers to the prince, who had been +her former class-mate. The prince was astonished at the bravery of +Chandralêkhâ, and promised the next time the robbers came +to lend her his assistance. So every night a spy from the palace slept +in Chandralêkhâ’s house to carry the news of the +arrival of the robbers to the prince, should they ever go there. But +the robbers were terribly afraid of approaching +Chandralêkhâ’s house, after they came to know that +she had a knife made out of the boring-rod. But they devised among +themselves a plan of inviting Chandralêkhâ to the forest +under the pretence of holding a <i>nautch</i>, and sent to her house a +servant for that purpose. The servant came, and, entering +Chandralêkhâ’s house, spoke thus to her:—</p> +<p>“My dear young lady, whoever you may be, you have now a chance +of enriching yourself. I see plainly from the situation of your house +that you are one of the dancing-girls’ caste. My masters in the +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb226" href="#pb226" name= +"pb226">226</a>]</span>forest have made a plan to give a <i>nautch</i> +to their relatives on the occasion of a wedding which is to take place +there the day after to-morrow. If you come there they will reward you +with a <i>karôṛ</i> of <i>mohars</i> for every +<i>nimisha</i> (minute) of your performance.”</p> +<p>Thus spoke the servant, and Chandralêkhâ, knowing that +the mission was from the thieves, agreed to perform the <i>nautch</i>, +and, asking the man to come and take her and her party the next morning +to the forest, sent him away.</p> +<p>In order to lose no time she went at once to the prince and told him +all about the <i>nautch</i>. Said she:—</p> +<p>“I know very well that this is a scheme of the thieves to kill +me, but before they can do that we must try to kill them. A way +suggests itself to me in this wise. To make up a <i>nautch</i> party +more than seven persons are required. One must play the drum; a second +must sound the cymbals; a third must blow upon the +<i>nâgasvara</i> pipe, etc., etc. So I request you to give me +seven of your strongest men to accompany me disguised as men of my +party, and some of your troops must secretly lie in ambush in readiness +to take the robbers prisoners when a signal is given to +them.”</p> +<p>Thus Chandralêkhâ spoke, and all her advice the prince +received with great admiration. He himself offered to follow her as her +drummer for the <i>nautch</i>, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb227" +href="#pb227" name="pb227">227</a>]</span>and he chose six of the +ablest commanders from his army, and asked them to disguise themselves +as fiddlers, pipers, etc., and he directed an army of a thousand men to +follow their footsteps at a distance of two +<i>ghaṭikâs’</i> march, and to lie in ambush near the +place where they were going to perform the <i>nautch</i>, ready for a +call. Thus everything was arranged and all were ready by the morning to +start from Chandralêkhâ’s house.</p> +<p>Before the third <i>ghaṭikâ</i> of the morning was over, +the robbers’ servant came to conduct Chandralêkhâ +with her party to the forest, where the prince and six of his strongest +men disguised as her followers, were waiting for him. +Chandralêkhâ with all her followers accompanied him, but as +soon as she left her house a spy ran off to the army, which, as ordered +by the prince, began to follow her party at a distance of two +<i>ghaṭikâs</i>.</p> +<p>After travelling a long way Chandralêkhâ and her party +reached the <i>nautch</i> pavilion at about five +<i>ghaṭikâs</i> before sunset. All their hosts were without +their noses, and some still had their noses bandaged up. When they saw +that <span class="corr" id="xd20e3811" title= +"Source: Chandralêkâ’s">Chandralêkhâ’s</span> +followers had a fine and prepossessing appearance, even the hard hearts +of the robbers softened a little.</p> +<p>“Let us have a look at her performance. She is now entirely in +our possession. Instead of murdering her now, we will witness her +performance <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb228" href="#pb228" name= +"pb228">228</a>]</span>for a <i>ghaṭikâ</i>,” said +the robbers to each other; and all with one voice said +“agreed,” and at once the order for the performance was +given.</p> +<p>Chandralêkhâ, who was clever in every department of +knowledge, began her performance, and, by the most exquisite movement +of her limbs, held the audience spell-bound, when suddenly <i>tâ +tai, tôm</i> clashed the cymbals. This was the signal for the +destruction of the robbers, as well as the sign of the close of a part +of the <i>nautch</i>. In the twinkling of an eye the seven disguised +followers of the dancing-girl had thrown down the thieves and were upon +them. Before the servants of the robbers could come to the help of +their masters the footsteps of an army near were heard, and in no time +the prince’s one thousand men were on the spot and took all the +robbers and their followers prisoners.</p> +<p>So great had been the ravages of these robbers in and round +Kaivalyam that, without any mercy being shown to them, they and their +followers were all ordered to be beheaded, and the prince was so much +won over by the excellent qualities of Chandralêkhâ that, +notwithstanding her birth as a dancing-girl, he regarded her as a gem +of womankind and married her.</p> +<p>“Buy a girl in a <i>bâzâr</i>” (<i>kanniyai +kaḍaiyir koḷ</i>) is a proverb. What matter where a girl is +born provided she is virtuous! And Chandralêkhâ, by her +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb229" href="#pb229" name= +"pb229">229</a>]</span>excellent virtue, won a prince for her lord. And +when that lord came to know of the real nature of his teacher, who was +also the teacher of Chandralêkhâ, he banished him from his +kingdom, as a merciful punishment, in consideration of his previous +services. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb230" href="#pb230" name= +"pb230">230</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e3544" href="#xd20e3544src" name="xd20e3544">1</a></span> Learned +woman.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e3593" href="#xd20e3593src" name="xd20e3593">2</a></span> There +would of course be no <i>real</i> marriage between a dancing girl and a +Brâhmiṇ. Hence the insult.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e3639" href="#xd20e3639src" name="xd20e3639">3</a></span> In +stories of a master falling in love with the girl he has been teaching, +he is usually himself made a soothsayer. In that capacity he asks the +guardian (father or mother) to put the girl in a light box and to float +her down a river. The girl in the box is taken by a young man, +sometimes a prince, and becomes his wife. A tiger or a lion is then put +into the box, and when the teacher, a great way down the river, takes +the box and wishes to run away with the girl inside, he is torn to +pieces, as a fit reward for his evil intentions, by the beast. But here +the story takes a different turn.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e3673" href="#xd20e3673src" name="xd20e3673">4</a></span> From +this point up to the end we shall find the story to be similar to +“Alî Bâbâ and the Forty Thieves” in the +<i>Arabian Nights</i>, though the plot is different.</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch19" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="label">XIX.</h2> +<h2 class="main">The Conquest of Fate.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">In the Dakshinadêśa there lived a +Brâhmiṇ boy who from his childhood was given a very liberal +education in Sanskṛit. He had read so much in philosophy that +before he reached the sixteenth year of his life he began to despise +the pleasures of the world. Everything which he saw was an illusion +(<i>mithyâ</i>) to him. So he resolved to renounce the world and +to go to a forest, there to meet with some great sage, and pass his +days with him in peace and happiness.</p> +<p>Having thus made up his mind, he left his home one day without the +knowledge of his parents and travelled towards the <span class="corr" +id="xd20e3854" title= +"Source: Danḍakâranya">Dandakâranya</span>. After +wandering for a long time in that impenetrable forest, and undergoing +all the miseries of a wood inhabited only by wild beasts, he reached +the banks of the Tuṅgabhadrâ. His sufferings in his +wanderings in a forest untrodden by human feet, his loneliness in the +midst of wild beasts, his fears whether after all he had not failed in +his search for consolation in <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb231" +href="#pb231" name="pb231">231</a>]</span>a preceptor to teach him the +higher branches of philosophy, came up one after another before his +mind. Dejected and weary, he cast his glance forward as far as it could +reach. Was it a reality or only imagination? He saw before him a lonely +cottage of leaves (<i>parṇaśâlâ</i>). To a +lonely traveller even the appearance of shelter is welcome, so he +followed up his vision till it became a reality, and an aged hoary +Brâhmiṇ, full fourscore and more in years, welcomed our +young philosopher.</p> +<p>“What has brought you here, my child, to this lonely forest +thus alone?” spoke in a sweet voice the hoary lord of the cottage +of leaves.</p> +<p>“A thirst for knowledge, so that I may acquire the mastery +over the higher branches of philosophy,” was the reply of our +young adventurer, whose name was Subrahmanya.</p> +<p>“Sit down my child,” said the old sage, much pleased +that in this Kaliyuga, which is one long epoch of sin, there was at +least one young lad who had forsaken his home for philosophy.</p> +<p>Having thus seen our hero safely relieved from falling a prey to the +tigers and lions of the Dandakâranya, let us enquire into the +story of the old sage. In the good old days even of this Kaliyuga +learned people, after fully enjoying the world, retired to the forests, +with or without their wives, to pass the decline of life in solemn +solitude and contemplation. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb232" href= +"#pb232" name="pb232">232</a>]</span>When they went with their wives +they were said to undergo the <i>vânaprastha</i> stage of family +life.</p> +<p>The hoary sage of our story was undergoing <i>vânaprastha</i>, +for he was in the woods with his wife. His name while living was +Jñânanidhi. He had built a neat +<i>parṇaśâlâ</i><span class="corr" id= +"xd20e3882" title="Not in source">,</span> or cottage of leaves, on the +banks of the commingled waters of the Tuṅgâ and +Bhadrâ, and here his days and nights were spent in meditation. +Though old in years he retained the full vigour of manhood, the result +of a well-spent youth. The life of his later years was most simple and +sinless.</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">“Remote from man, with God he passed his +days;</p> +<p class="line">Prayer all his business, all his pleasures +praise.”</p> +</div> +<p class="first">The wood yielded him herbs, fruits, and roots, and the +river, proverbial<a class="noteref" id="xd20e3892src" href="#xd20e3892" +name="xd20e3892src">1</a> for its sweet waters, supplied him with +drink. He lived, in fact, as simply as the bard who sang:—</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">“But from the mountain’s grassy side</p> +<p class="line xd20e3912">A guiltless feast I bring;</p> +<p class="line">A bag with herbs and fruits supplied,</p> +<p class="line xd20e3912">And water from the spring.”</p> +</div> +<p class="first">His faithful wife brought him these, while +Jñânanidhi himself devoted his whole time to the +contemplation of God.</p> +<p>Such was Jñânanidhi—the abode of all wise +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb233" href="#pb233" name= +"pb233">233</a>]</span>people—to whom the boy-philosopher, +Subrahmanya, resorted. After questioning each other both were mightily +pleased at the fortune which had brought them together. +Jñânanidhi was glad to impart his hard-earned knowledge +during his leisure moments to the young student, and Subrahmanya, with +that longing which made him renounce the city and take to the woods +eagerly swallowed and assimilated whatever was administered to him. He +relieved his mother—for as such he regarded his master’s +wife—of all her troubles, and used, himself, to go out to bring +the fruits, herbs, and roots necessary for the repasts of the little +family. Thus passed five years, by which time our young friend had +become learned in the many branches of Aryan philosophy.</p> +<p><span class="corr" id="xd20e3925" title= +"Source: Jñânadidhi">Jñânanidhi</span> had a +desire to visit the source of the Tuṅgabhadrâ, but his wife +was eight months advanced in her pregnancy. So he could not take her; +and to take care of her he had to leave behind his disciple, +Subrahmanya. Thus after commending the lady to Subrahmanya’s +care, and leaving for female assistance another sage’s wife, whom +he had brought from a distant forest, Jñânanidhi went his +way.</p> +<p>Now, there is a strong belief among Hindus that Brahmâ, the +great creator, writes on everyone’s head at the time of his birth +his future fortunes in life. He is supposed to do this just at the +moment <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb234" href="#pb234" name= +"pb234">234</a>]</span>of birth. Of course, the great god when he +enters the room to discharge his onerous duty, is invisible to all +human eyes. But the eyes of Subrahmanya were not exactly human. The +supreme knowledge which Jñânanidhi had imparted to him +made it easy for him to discern at once a person entering most +impolitely the room in which his master’s wife had been +confined.</p> +<p>“Let your reverence stop here,” said the disciple +angrily though respectfully.</p> +<p>The great god shuddered, for he had been in the habit of entering +hourly innumerable buildings on his eternal rounds of duty, but never +till then had a human being perceived him and asked him to stop. His +wonder knew no measure, and as he stood bewildered the following +reprimand fell on his ears:</p> +<p>“Hoary Brâhmiṇ sage (for so Brahmâ +appeared), it is unbecoming your age thus to enter the hut of my +master, unallowed by me, who am watching here. My teacher’s wife +is ill. Stop!<span class="corr" id="xd20e3938" title= +"Not in source">”</span></p> +<p>Brahmâ hastily—for the time of inscribing the future +fortune on the forehead of the baby to be born was fast +approaching—explained to Subrahmanya who he was and what had +brought him there. As soon as our young hero came to know the person +who stood before him he rose up, and, tying his upper cloth round his +hips as a mark of respect, went round the creator thrice, fell down +before <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb235" href="#pb235" name= +"pb235">235</a>]</span>Brahmâ’s most holy feet and begged +his pardon. Brahmâ had not much time. He wanted to go in at once, +but our young friend would not leave the god until he explained what he +meant to write on the head of the child.</p> +<p>“My son!” said Brahmâ, “I myself do not know +what my iron nail will write on the head of the child. When the child +is born I place the nail on its head, and the instrument writes the +fate of the baby in proportion to its good or bad acts in its former +life. To delay me is merely wrong. Let me go in.”</p> +<p>“Then,” said Subrahmanya, “your holiness must +inform me when your holiness goes out what has been written on the +child’s head.”</p> +<p>“Agreed,” said Brahmâ and went in. After a moment +he returned, and our young hero at the door asked the god what his nail +had written.</p> +<p>“My child!” said Brahmâ, “I will inform you +what it wrote; but if you disclose it to anyone your head will split +into a thousand pieces. The child is a male child. It has before it a +very hard life. A buffalo and a sack of grain will be its livelihood. +What is to be done. Perhaps it had not done any good acts in its former +life, and as the result of its sin it must undergo miseries +now.”</p> +<p>“What! Your supreme holiness, the father of this child is a +great sage! And is this the fate <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb236" +href="#pb236" name="pb236">236</a>]</span>reserved to the son of a +sage?” wept the true disciple of the sage.</p> +<p>“What have I to do with the matter? The fruits of acts in a +former life must be undergone in the present life. But, remember, if +you should reveal this news to any one your head will split into a +thousand pieces.”</p> +<p>Having said this Brahmâ went away, leaving Subrahmanya +extremely pained to hear that the son of a great sage was to have a +hard life. He could not even open his lips on the subject, for if he +did his head would be split. In sorrow he passed some days, when +Jñânanidhi returned from his pilgrimage and was delighted +to see his wife and the child doing well, and in the learned company of +the old sage our young disciple forgot all his sorrow.</p> +<p>Three more years passed away in deep study, and again the old sage +wanted to go on a pilgrimage to the sacred source of the +Tuṅgabhadrâ. Again was his wife expecting her confinement, +and he had to leave her and his disciple behind with the usual +temporary female assistance. Again, too, did Brahmâ come at the +moment of birth, but found easy admittance as Subrahmanya had now +become acquainted with him owing to the previous event. Again did +Brahmâ take an oath from him not to communicate the fortunes of +the second child, with the curse that if he broke his oath, his head +would <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb237" href="#pb237" name= +"pb237">237</a>]</span>split into a thousand pieces. This child was a +female, and the nail had written that her fate was to be that of a +frivolous woman. Extremely vexed was our young philosopher. The thought +vexed him to such a degree, that language has no words to express it. +After worrying a great deal he consoled himself with the soothing +philosophies of the fatalists, that fate alone governs the world.</p> +<p>The old sage in due course returned, and our young disciple spent +two more happy years with him. After a little more than ten years had +been thus spent the boy reached to five years and the girl to two. The +more they advanced in years the more did the recollection of their +future pain Subrahmanya. So one morning he humbly requested the old +sage to permit him to go on a long journey to the Himâlayas and +other mountains, and Jñânanidhi, knowing that all that he +knew had been grasped by the young disciple, permitted him with a glad +heart to satisfy his curiosity.</p> +<p>Our hero started, and after several years, during which he visited +several towns and learned men, reached the Himâlayas. There he +saw many sages, and lived with them for some time. He did not remain in +one place, for his object was more to examine the world. So he went +from place to place, and after a long and interesting journey of twenty +years he again returned to the banks of the Tuṅgabhadrâ, +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb238" href="#pb238" name= +"pb238">238</a>]</span>at the very place where he lived for ten years +and imbibed philosophical knowledge from <span class="corr" id= +"xd20e3972" title= +"Source: Jṅânanidhi">Jñânanidhi</span>. But he +saw there neither Jñânanidhi nor his old wife. They had +long since fallen a prey to the lord of death. Much afflicted at heart +at seeing his master and mistress no more, he went to the nearest town, +and there after a deal of search he found a coolie with a single +buffalo. The fate which Brahmâ’s nail had written on his +master’s son rushed into the mind of Subrahmanya. He approached +the coolie, and, on closely examining him from a distance, our hero +found distinct indications of his master’s face in the labourer. +His grief knew no bounds at seeing the son of a great sage thus earning +his livelihood by minding a buffalo. He followed him to his home, and +found that he had a wife and two children. One sack of corn he had in +his house and no more, from which he took out a portion every day and +gave it to his wife to be shelled. The rice was cooked, and with the +petty earnings of a coolie, he and his family kept body and soul +together. Each time the corn in the sack became exhausted he used to be +able to save enough to replenish it again with corn. Thus did he +(according to the writing of Brahmâ’s nail) pass his days. +Kapâlî was the name of this coolie, the sage’s +son.</p> +<p>“Do you know me, Kapâlî?” said our hero, as +he remembered his name. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb239" href= +"#pb239" name="pb239">239</a>]</span></p> +<p>The coolie was astonished to hear his name so readily pronounced by +one who was apparently a stranger to him, but he said:—</p> +<p>“I am sorry that I do not know you, Sir.”</p> +<p>Subrahmanya then explained to him who he was, and requested him to +follow his advice.</p> +<p>“My dear son,” said he, “do as I bid you. Early +morning <span class="corr" id="xd20e3987" title= +"Source: to morrow">to-morrow</span> leave your bed and take to the +market your buffalo and the corn sack. Dispose of them for whatever +amount they will fetch. Do not think twice about the matter. Buy all +that is necessary for a sumptuous meal from the sale proceeds and eat +it all up at once without reserving a morsel for the morrow. You will +get a great deal more than you can eat in a day; but do not reserve +any, even the smallest portion of it. Feed several other <span class= +"corr" id="xd20e3990" title= +"Source: Brâhmins">Brâhmiṇs</span> with it. Do not +think that I advise you for your ruin. You will see in the end that +what your father’s disciple tells you is for your own +prosperity.”</p> +<p>However, whatever the sage might say, Kapâlî could not +bring himself to believe him.</p> +<p>“What shall I do to feed my wife and children to-morrow if I +sell everything belonging to me to-day?”</p> +<p>Thus thought Kapâlî, and consulted his wife.</p> +<p>Now she was a very virtuous and intelligent woman. Said she:— +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb240" href="#pb240" name= +"pb240">240</a>]</span></p> +<p>“My dear lord, we have heard that your father was a great +<i>mahâtmâ</i>. This disciple must equally be a +<i>mahâtmâ</i>. His holiness would not advise us to our +ruin. Let us follow the sage’s <span class="corr" id="xd20e4010" +title="Source: advise">advice</span>.”</p> +<p>When <span class="corr" id="xd20e4015" title= +"Source: Kapâli’s">Kapâlî’s</span> wife +thus supported the sage, he resolved to dispose of his beast and sack +the next morning, and he did so accordingly<span class="corr" id= +"xd20e4018" title="Source: ,">.</span> The provisions he bought were +enough to feed fifty <span class="corr" id="xd20e4021" title= +"Source: Brâhmins">Brâhmiṇs</span> morning and +evening, as well as his own family. So that day he fed <span class= +"corr" id="xd20e4024" title= +"Source: Brâhmins">Brâhmiṇs</span> for the first time +in his life. Night came on, and after an adventurous day +Kapâlî retired to sleep, but sleep he could not. Meanwhile +Subrahmanya was sleeping on the bare verandah outside the house, and he +came to the sage and said:—</p> +<p>“Holy sage, nearly half the night is spent, and there are only +fifteen <i>ghaṭikâs</i> more for the dawn. What shall I do +for the morrow for my hungry children? All that I had I have spent. I +have not even a morsel of cold rice for the morning.”</p> +<p>Subrahmanya showed him some money that he had in his hand, enough to +buy a buffalo and a sack of corn in case the great god did not help +him, and asked him to spend that night, at <span class="corr" id= +"xd20e4034" title="Source: lesat">least</span> the remainder of it, in +calm sleep. So Kapâlî, with his heart <span class="corr" +id="xd20e4037" title="Source: as">at</span> ease, retired to rest.</p> +<p>He had not slept more than ten <i>ghaṭikâs</i> when he +dreamt that all his family—his wife and +children—<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb241" href="#pb241" name= +"pb241">241</a>]</span>were screaming for a mouthful of rice. Suddenly +he awoke and cursed his poverty which always made such thoughts dwell +uppermost in his mind. There were only five <i>ghaṭikâs</i> +for the lord of the day to make his appearance in the eastern horizon, +and before this could happen he wanted to finish his morning bath and +ablutions, and so he went to his garden to bathe at the well. The shed +for the buffalo was erected in the garden, and it had been his habit +daily before bathing to give fresh straw to his beast. That morning he +thought he would be spared that duty. But, wonder of wonders! He saw +another buffalo standing there. He cursed his poverty again which made +him imagine impossibilities. How could it be possible that his beast +should be standing there when he had sold it the previous morning? So +he went into the shed and found a real buffalo standing there. He could +not believe his eyes, and hastily brought a lamp from his house. It +was, however, a real buffalo, and beside it was a sack of corn! His +heart leapt with joy, and he ran out to tell his patron, Subrahmanya. +But when the latter heard it he said with a disgusted air:—</p> +<p>“My dear Kapâlî, why do you care so much? Why do +you feel so overjoyed? Take the beast at once with the corn-sack and +sell them as you did yesterday.” <span class="pagenum">[<a id= +"pb242" href="#pb242" name="pb242">242</a>]</span></p> +<p>Kapâlî at once obeyed the orders and changed the money +into provisions. Again fifty <span class="corr" id="xd20e4056" title= +"Source: Brâhmins">Brâhmiṇs</span> were fed the next +day too, and nothing was reserved for the third day’s use. Thus +it went on in Kapâlî’s house. Every morning he found +a buffalo and a sack of corn, which he sold and fed <span class="corr" +id="xd20e4059" title= +"Source: Brâhmins">Brâhmiṇs</span> with the proceeds. +In this way a month passed. Said Subrahmanya one day:—</p> +<p>“My dear Kapâlî, I am your holy father’s +disciple, and I would never advise you to do a thing prejudicial to +your welfare. When I came to know that you were the son of the great +sage, Jñânanidhi, and were leading so wretched a life, I +came to see you in order to alleviate your miseries. I have now done +so, having pointed out the way to you to live comfortably. Daily must +you continue thus. Do as you have been doing for the past month, and +never store away anything, for if you reserve a portion all this +happiness may fail, and you will have to revert to your former wretched +life. I have done my duty towards you. If you become ambitious of +hoarding up money this good fortune may desert you.”</p> +<p>Kapâlî agreed to follow the advice of the sage to the +uttermost detail and requested him to remain in his house. Again said +Subrahmanya:—</p> +<p>“My son! I have better work before me than living in your +house. So please excuse me. But <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb243" +href="#pb243" name="pb243">243</a>]</span>before leaving you, I request +you to inform me as to where your sister is. She was a child of two +years of age when I saw her twenty years ago. She must be about +twenty-two or twenty-three now. Where is she?<span class="corr" id= +"xd20e4070" title="Not in source">”</span></p> +<p>Tears trickled down the eyes of Kapâlî when his sister +was mentioned. Said he:—</p> +<p>“Do not, my patron, think of her. She is lost to the world. I +am ashamed to think of her. Why should we think of such a wretch at +this happy time?”</p> +<p>At once the inscription made by Brahmâ’s nail rushed +into Subrahmanya’s mind and he understood what was meant. Said +he:—</p> +<p>“Never mind; be open and tell me where she is.”</p> +<p>Then her brother, Kapâlî, with his eyes still wet with +tears, said that his sister, the daughter of the sage <span class= +"corr" id="xd20e4083" title= +"Source: Jṅânanidhi">Jñânanidhi</span>, was +leading the worst of lives in an adjoining village, and that her name +was <span class="corr" id="xd20e4086" title= +"Source: Kalyâni">Kalyânî</span>.</p> +<p>Subrahmanya took leave of Kapâlî and his wife, after +blessing his little children and again warning his friend. He had +conferred what happiness he could upon his master’s son, and now +the thought of reforming his master’s daughter reigned supreme in +his heart. He went at once to the village indicated and reached it at +about nightfall. After an easy search he found her house and knocked at +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb244" href="#pb244" name= +"pb244">244</a>]</span>the door. The door was at once opened. But on +that day she was astonished to see a face such as she could never +expect to approach her house.</p> +<p>“Do you know me, Kalyânî?” said Subrahmanya, +and she in reply said that she did not. He then explained who he was, +and when she came to know that it was a disciple of her father that was +standing before her she wept most bitterly. The thought that after +having been born of such a holy sage, she had adopted so wretched a +life, the most shameful in the world, made her miserable at heart. She +fell down at his feet and asked to be forgiven. She then explained to +him her extreme misery, and the hard necessity which had compelled her +to take to her present way of living. He then consoled her and spoke +thus:—</p> +<p>“My dear daughter! My heart burns within me when I see that +necessity has driven you to this wretched life. But I can redeem you if +you will only follow my advice. From this night you had better shut +your door, and never open it to any other person except to him who +brings to you a large measure full of pearls of the first water. You +follow this advice for a day and I shall then advise you +further.”</p> +<p>Being the daughter of a great sage, and having been compelled by +necessity to take to a wretched life, she readily consented to follow +her father’s <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb245" href="#pb245" +name="pb245">245</a>]</span>disciple when he promised to redeem her. +She bolted the door, and refused admission to anyone unless they +brought a large measure full of pearls. Her visitors, fancying that she +must have gone mad, went away. The night was almost drawing to a close +and all her friends had gone away disappointed. Who was there in the +village to give to her one measure full of pearls? But as the nail of +Brahmâ had appointed for her such a life as stated, some one was +bound to comply with her terms. And as there was no human being who +could do so, the god Brahmâ himself assumed the shape of a young +man, and, with a measure full of pearls, visited her in the last watch +of the night and remained with her.</p> +<p>When morning dawned he disappeared, and when Kalyânî +explained to the disciple of her father the next morning that after all +one person had visited her with a measure full of pearls on the +previous night, he was glad to hear of it. He knew that his plan was +working well. Said he:—</p> +<p>“My dear daughter, you are restored to your former good self +hereafter from this day. There are very few people in this world who +could afford to give you a measure full of pearls every night. So he +that brought you the pearls last night must continue to do so every +night, and he shall be hereafter your only husband. No other person +must ever hereafter see your face, and you must obey my <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb246" href="#pb246" name= +"pb246">246</a>]</span>orders. You must sell all the pearls he brings +you every day and convert them into money. This money you should spend +in feeding the poor and other charities. None of it must you reserve +for the next day, neither must you entertain a desire to hoard up +money. The day you fail to follow my advice you will lose your husband, +and then you will have to fall back on your former wretched +life.”</p> +<p>Thus said Subrahmanya, and Kalyânî agreed to strictly +follow his injunctions. He then went to live under a tree opposite to +her house for a month to see whether his plan was working well, and +found it worked admirably.</p> +<p>Thus, after having conferred happiness, to the best of his +abilities, on the son and daughter of his former master, Subrahmanya +took leave of Kalyânî, and with her permission, most +reluctantly given, he pursued his pilgrimage.</p> +<p>One moonlight night, after a long sleep, Subrahmanya rose up almost +at midnight, and hearing the crows crowing he mistook it for the dawn +and commenced his journey. He had not proceeded far, when on his way he +met a beautiful person coming towards him, with a sack of corn on his +head and a bundle of pearls tied up in the end of his upper cloth on +his shoulder, leading a buffalo before him.</p> +<p>“Who are you, sir, walking thus in this forest?” said +Subrahmanya. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb247" href="#pb247" name= +"pb247">247</a>]</span></p> +<p>When thus addressed, the person before him threw down the sack and +wept most bitterly.</p> +<p>“See, sir, my head is almost become bald by having to bear to +Kapâlî’s house a sack of corn every night. This +buffalo I lead to Kapâlî’s shed and this bundle of +pearls I take to Kalyânî’s house. My nail wrote their +fate on their respective heads and by your device I have to supply them +with what my nail wrote. When will you relieve me of these +troubles?”</p> +<p>Thus wept Brahmâ, for it was no other personage. He was the +creator and protector of all beings, and when Subrahmanya had pointed +out the way for his master’s children, and they had conquered +fate, Brahmâ <span class="corr" id="xd20e4124" title= +"Source: toow as">too was</span> conquered. So the great god soon gave +them eternal felicity and relieved himself of his troubles. +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb248" href="#pb248" name= +"pb248">248</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e3892" href="#xd20e3892src" name="xd20e3892">1</a></span> +<i><span class="corr" id="xd20e3894" title= +"Source: Gangâ">Gaṅgâ</span> snâna <span class= +"corr" id="xd20e3897" title="Source: Tungâ">Tuṅga</span> +pâna.</i> The Ganges for bath and <span class="corr" id= +"xd20e3901" title="Source: Tungâ">Tuṅga</span> +(<span class="corr" id="xd20e3904" title= +"Source: Tungabhadrâ">Tuṅgabhadrâ</span>) for +drink.</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch20" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="label">XX.</h2> +<h2 class="main">The Brâhmaṇ Priest who became an +Amildâr.<a class="noteref" id="xd20e4133src" href="#xd20e4133" +name="xd20e4133src">1</a></h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">In the Karnâta dêśa there reigned a +famous king named Châmunḍa, who was served by an household +priest, named <span class="corr" id="xd20e4137" title= +"Source: Gundappa">Gunḍappa</span>, well versed in all the +rituals at which he officiated.</p> +<p>Châmunḍa, one day, while chewing betel-leaves, thus +addressed <span class="corr" id="xd20e4142" title= +"Source: Gundappa">Gunḍappa</span>, who was sitting opposite +him:—</p> +<p>“My most holy priest, I am greatly pleased at your +faithfulness in the discharge of your sacred duties; and you may ask of +me now what you wish and I shall grant your request.”</p> +<p>The priest elated replied: “I have always had a desire to +become the <i>Amildâr</i><a class="noteref" id="xd20e4151src" +href="#xd20e4151" name="xd20e4151src">2</a> of a district and to +exercise power over a number of people; and if your Majesty should +grant me this I shall have attained my ambition.” <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb249" href="#pb249" name="pb249">249</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Agreed,” said the king, and at that time the +<i>Amildârship</i> of Nañjaṅgôḍ +happening to be vacant, his Majesty at once appointed his priest to the +post, thinking that his priest, who was intelligent in his duties, +would do well in the new post. Before he sent him off, however, he gave +Gunḍappa three bits of advice:—</p> +<p>(1). <i lang="ta-latn">Mukha kappage irabêku.</i></p> +<p>(2). <i lang="ta-latn">Ellâru kevianna kachchi mâtan +âḍu.</i></p> +<p>(3). <i lang="ta-latn">ellâr juṭṭu kayyalii +irabêku.</i></p> +<p>The meaning of which is:</p> +<p>(1). You should always keep a black (<i>i.e.</i> frowning) +countenance.</p> +<p>(2). When you speak about State affairs you should do it biting the +ear (<i>i.e.</i> secretly—close to the ear).</p> +<p>(3.) The locks of every one should be in your hand (<i>i.e.</i> you +must use your influence and make every one subservient to you).</p> +<p>Gunḍappa heard these words so kindly given by the king, and +the way in which he listened to them made his Majesty understand that +he had taken them to heart. So with a smiling face the king gave the +letter containing the appointment to <span class="corr" id="xd20e4195" +title="Source: Gundappa">Gunḍappa</span>, who returned home with +an elated heart.</p> +<p>He told his wife about the change that had come over his prospects, +and wished to start at once to take charge of the new post. The king +and his <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb250" href="#pb250" name= +"pb250">250</a>]</span>officers at once sent messengers to <span class= +"corr" id="xd20e4202" title= +"Source: Nañjangôḍ">Nañjaṅgôḍ</span> +informing the officers of the <i>Amîldârî</i> that a +newly appointed <i>Amîldâr</i> would be coming soon. So +they all waited near the gate of the town to pay their respects to the +new <i>Amîldâr</i> and escort him into it.</p> +<p>Gunḍappa started the very next morning to +Nañjaṅgôḍ with a bundle containing clean +clothes, six by twelve cubits long, on his head. Poor priest! Wherever +he saw the <i>kuśa</i> grass on the road, he was drawn to it by +its freshness, and kept on storing it up all the way. The sacred grass +had become so dear to him, that, though he would have no occasion to +use it as <i>Amîldâr</i> of +Nañjaṅgôḍ, he could not pass by it without +gathering some of it. So with his bundle of clothes on his head and his +beloved <i>kuśa</i> grass in his hands, Gunḍappa approached +the city of <span class="corr" id="xd20e4225" title= +"Source: Nañjaṅgôd">Nañjaṅgôḍ</span> +about the twentieth <i><span class="corr" id="xd20e4229" title= +"Source: ghaṭika">ghaṭikâ</span></i> of the day.</p> +<p>Now, though it was very late in the day, none of the officers, who +had come out to receive the <i>Amildâr</i> had returned home to +their meals. Everyone was waiting in the gate and when Gunḍappa +turned up, no one took him to be anything more than a priest. The +bundle on his head and the green ritual grass in his hands proclaimed +his vocation. But everyone thought that, as a priest was coming by the +very road the <i>Amildâr</i> would take, he might bring news of +him—whether he had halted on the road and <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb251" href="#pb251" name= +"pb251">251</a>]</span>would or might be expected before the evening. +So the next officer in rank to the <i>Amildâr</i> came to the +most reverend priest and asked him whether he had any news of the +coming <i>Amildâr</i>; on which our hero put down his bundle and +taking out the cover containing the order of his appointment with a +handful of <i>kuśa</i> grass, lest his clothes be polluted if he +touched them with his bare hands informed his subordinate that he was +himself the <i>Amildâr</i>!</p> +<p>All those assembled were astonished to find such a wretched priest +appointed to so responsible a post, but when it was made known that +Gunḍappa was the new <i>Amildâr</i> the customary music was +played and he was escorted in a manner due to his position, into the +town. He had been fasting from the morning, and a grand feast was +prepared for him in the house of the next senior official, which +Gunḍappa entered for a dinner and rest. He there informed the +officials that he would be at the office at the twenty-fifth +<i><span class="corr" id="xd20e4261" title= +"Source: ghâṭika">ghaṭikâ</span></i> of the +evening. From the way in which he issued the order all thought that he +was really an able man, and that he had come in the guise of a simple +priest in order to find out the real state of his district. So every +officer went home, bathed, had his meal in haste and attended at the +office.</p> +<p>The chief assistant took the <i>Amildâr</i> to his house, and +entertained his guest as became his position. <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb252" href="#pb252" name= +"pb252">252</a>]</span>Gunḍappa, being a priest, was a very good +eater, for never for a day in his life had he spent money out of his +own pocket on meals, so what reason had he to enquire about the price +of provisions? It was at the expense of others he had grown so fat! And +doing more than full justice to all the good things, much to the secret +amusement of his host and assistant, Gunḍappa rose up from his +food, and washed his hands. He then wanted betel-leaves though to ask +for these before the host offers them is very impolite. But his +subordinate interpreted it as an order from a master and brought the +platter containing the necessary nutmeg, mace, nut, leaves, and +<i><span class="corr" id="xd20e4272" title= +"Source: chunam">chuṇam</span></i> (lime).</p> +<p>“Where is the dakshiṇa?”<a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e4277src" href="#xd20e4277" name="xd20e4277src">3</a> next asked +the <i>Amildâr</i>. His host did not quite understand whether +this was meant in earnest or in joke, but before he could solve the +question in his mind:—</p> +<p>“Where is the <i>dakshiṇâ</i>?” reiterated +the <i>Amildâr</i>, and his assistant, thinking that his new +superior was prone to taking bribes, at once brought a bag containing +500 <i>mohars</i> and placed it in the platter. Now a +<i>dakshiṇa</i> to a <span class="corr" id="xd20e4302" title= +"Source: Brâhmin">Brâhmiṇ</span> is not usually more +than a couple of rupees, but should an <i>Amildâr</i> ask for +one, his assistant would naturally mistake him, and think he was +hinting at a bribe! <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb253" href="#pb253" +name="pb253">253</a>]</span></p> +<p><span class="corr" id="xd20e4312" title= +"Source: Gundappa">Gunḍappa</span> greatly pleased at a princely +<i>dakshiṇa</i> such as he had never seen before in all his life, +at once opened the bag and counted out every gold piece in it, +carefully tying them up in his bundle. He then began to chew his betel, +and at one gulp swallowed up all the nutmeg and mace in the platter! +All this made his assistant strongly suspect the real nature of the new +<i>Amildâr</i>; but then there was the order of the king, and it +must be obeyed! Gunḍappa next asked his assistant to go on in +advance of him to the office, saying that he would be there himself in +a <i><span class="corr" id="xd20e4322" title= +"Source: ghaṭika">ghaṭikâ</span></i>. The assistant +accordingly left a messenger to attend on the <i>Amildâr</i>, and +being very anxious to see things in good order, left his house for the +office.</p> +<p>Gunḍappa now remembered the three bits of advice given by the +king, the first of which was that he should always put on, when in +office, a black countenance. Now he understood the word +“black” in its literal sense, and not in its allegorical +one of “frowning,” and, so going into the kitchen, he asked +for a lump of charcoal paste. When this was ready he blackened the +whole of his face with it, and covering his face with his +cloth—as he was ashamed to show it—entered the office. With +his face thus blackened and partly covered with a cloth, the new +<i>Amildâr</i> came and took his seat. Now and then he would +remove the cloth from his eyes to see <span class="pagenum">[<a id= +"pb254" href="#pb254" name="pb254">254</a>]</span>how his officers were +working, and meanwhile all the clerks and others present were laughing +in their sleeves at the queer conduct of their chief.</p> +<p>The evening was drawing to a close, and there were certain orders to +be signed: so taking them all in his hand the assistant approached the +<i>Amildâr</i>, and stood at a respectful distance. <span class= +"corr" id="xd20e4340" title="Source: Gundappa">Gunḍappa</span>, +however, asked him to come nearer, and nearer the assistant came.</p> +<p>“Still nearer,” said <span class="corr" id="xd20e4345" +title="Source: Gundappa">Gunḍappa</span>, and nearer still came +the assistant.</p> +<p>The second bit of advice from the king now rushed into the +<i>Amildâr’s</i> mind that he should bite the ears of his +officials when he enquired into State affairs, and as <span class= +"corr" id="xd20e4353" title= +"Source: Gundappa’s">Gunḍappa’s</span> want of sense +always made him take what was said literally, he opened his mouth and +bit the ear of his assistant, while in a muffled voice he asked him +whether all his people enjoyed full prosperity! The assistant, now in +very fear of his life, roared out that all the people were enjoying the +greatest prosperity. But <span class="corr" id="xd20e4356" title= +"Source: Gundappa">Gunḍappa</span> would not let go his ear till +the poor assistant had roared out the answer more than twenty times. +The poor wretch’s ear soon began to swell enormously, and leaving +the office in disgust, he started to report to the king the insane acts +of the new <i>Amildâr</i>.</p> +<p>Two out of the three bits of advice from the king had now been duly +obeyed, but the third, that the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb255" +href="#pb255" name="pb255">255</a>]</span>locks of all the people must +be in his hands, remained unfulfilled, and Gunḍappa wished to +carry out that also quickly. Night had now set in, and as the +<i>Amildâr</i> still remained in his seat, all his officers were +compelled to do the same. In this way the tenth <i><span class="corr" +id="xd20e4370" title= +"Source: ghaṭika">ghaṭikâ</span></i> of the night +approached, and still the <i>Amildâr</i> would not get up, but +sat with his black face secured in his cloth, now and then peeping out +to see whether they were all asleep or awake. The fact was, he was +waiting for an opportunity to have all the locks of his officers in his +hand! As soon as all his officers fell asleep he intended to cut off +all their locks, as usual understanding the words in their literal +sense! At about midnight, never dreaming of the stupid act that the +<i>Amildâr</i> was contemplating in his mind, every one fell +asleep, and Gunḍappa rose up, and with a pair of scissors cut off +all the locks of his officers. He then tied them all up in a bundle and +returned to his assistant’s home late at night, where the +servants gave him something to eat; after which he started with his bag +of <i>mohars</i> and bundle of locks to his king to inform him of how +well he had obeyed his orders!</p> +<p>In the early morning he reached the presence of his Majesty only a +nimisha after his assistant had arrived. Seeing the +<i>Amildâr</i> he was too afraid to to lodge any complaint, but +his swollen ear drew the attention of every eye in the assembly. +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb256" href="#pb256" name= +"pb256">256</a>]</span></p> +<p>Gunḍappa now stood before the king with the charcoal on his +face and said:—</p> +<p>“Most noble king, you ordered me to blacken my face for my new +duty. See, I have not even yet removed the dye! You ordered me next +only to speak while biting an ear. Look, please, at my +assistant’s ear, who stands before you and tell me whether I have +not obeyed you!! And as for having the locks of my officers in my +hands; why here they are in this bundle!!!”</p> +<p>Never had the king seen a similar instance of such stupidity, and +the thought that Gunḍappa had shorn so many respectable heads of +their locks, and had really bitten the ear of a worthy gentleman, +brought much shame to his heart. He begged pardon of the injured man +and from that day forward was very careful in the choice of his +officers! Poor Gunḍappa was dismissed even from the priestship, +and his belly grew lean from having no longer the privilege of eating +rich food at others’ cost! <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb257" +href="#pb257" name="pb257">257</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e4133" href="#xd20e4133src" name="xd20e4133">1</a></span> A +Kanarese tale related by a risâldâr.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e4151" href="#xd20e4151src" name="xd20e4151">2</a></span> Headman +of the village.</p> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e4277" href="#xd20e4277src" name="xd20e4277">3</a></span> +<i>Dakshiṇâs</i> (fees given in donation to <span class= +"corr" id="xd20e4281" title= +"Source: Brâhmins">Brâhmiṇs</span>) are ordinarily +given to priests.</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch21" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="label">XXI.</h2> +<h2 class="main">The Gardener’s Cunning Wife.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">In a certain village there lived with his wife a poor +gardener who cultivated greens in a small patch in the backyard of his +house. They were in thirty little beds, half of which he would water +every day. This occupied him from the fifth to the fifteenth +<i><span class="corr" id="xd20e4404" title= +"Source: ghaṭika">ghaṭikâ</span></i>.</p> +<p>His wife used to cut a basketful of greens every evening, and he +took them in the mornings to sell in the village. The sale brought him +a measure or two of rice, and on this the family lived! If he could +manage any extra work of an evening he got a few coppers which served +to meet their other expenses.</p> +<p>Now in that village there was a temple to Kâlî, before +which was a fine tank with a mango tree on its bank. The fish in the +tank and the mangoes from the tree were dedicated to the goddess, and +were strictly forbidden to the villagers. If any one was discovered +cutting a mango or catching a fish, <span class="pagenum">[<a id= +"pb258" href="#pb258" name="pb258">258</a>]</span>he was at once +excommunicated from the village. So strict was the prohibition.</p> +<p>The gardener was returning home one morning after selling his greens +and passed the temple. The mangoes, so carefully guarded by religious +protection, were hanging on the tree in great numbers, and the +gardener’s eyes fell on them! His mouth watered. He looked round +about him, and fortunately there was no one by, at least, as far as his +eyes could reach. So he hastily plucked one of the mangoes and with +nimble feet descended into the tank to wash it. Just then a most +charming shoal of fish met his eyes. These protected dwellers in the +tank had no notion of danger, and so were frolicking about at their +ease. The gardener looked about him first and finding no one by caught +half a dozen stout fish at one plunge of his hand. He hid them and the +mango underneath the rice in his basket and returned home, happy in the +thought that he had not been caught. Now he had a special delight in +fish, and when he reached his house he showed what he brought to his +wife and asked her to prepare a dish with the newly caught fish and the +never-till-then tasted mango.</p> +<p>Meanwhile he had to water his garden, and went to the backyard for +the purpose. The watering was done by a <i>pikôṭa</i>. He +used to run up and down the pole while a friend of his, the +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb259" href="#pb259" name= +"pb259">259</a>]</span>son of his neighbour, lifted the water and +irrigated the garden.</p> +<p>Meanwhile his wife cooked the dish of mango and fish in a pan, and +found the flavour so sweet that even while the fish was only half +cooked she began to taste one bit of it after another till more than +half had already gone down her throat! The dish was at last cooked, and +the few remaining slices in the pan were taken off the fire, so she +went into the verandah and from thence saw her husband running up and +down the <i>pikôṭa</i>. She beckoned to him that the dish +was ready and that he should come in and taste it. However, he never +noticed her, but kept on running up and down the +<i>pikôṭa</i>, and while running up and down he was obliged +to wave his hands about, and this his wife mistook as an indication +that she might eat up her portion of the dish. At any rate her +imagination made her think so; and she went in and ate a slice, and +then went out into the verandah again to call her husband who was still +running up and down the <i>pikôṭa</i>. Again, her husband, +so she thought, waved his hands in permission to go on with her dinner. +Again she went in and had another slice. Thus it went on for a full +<i>ghaṭikâ</i> till the last slice was consumed.</p> +<p>“Alas!” thought she, “With what great eagerness my +husband fetched the fish and the mango, and how sadly, out of +greediness, have I disappointed <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb260" +href="#pb260" name="pb260">260</a>]</span>him. Surely his anger will +know no bounds when he comes in. I must soon devise some means to save +myself.”</p> +<p>So she brought the pan in which she cooked the fish and mango out of +the house and covered it with another pan of similar size and sat down +before it. Then she undid her hair and twisted it about her head until +it was dishevelled. She then began to make a great noise. This action +by a woman in an illiterate family of low caste is always supposed to +indicate a visitation from a goddess and a demon; so when her husband +from the <i>pikôṭa</i> tree saw the state of his wife, his +guilty conscience smote him. The change in his wife alarmed him, and he +came down suddenly and stood before her. As soon as she saw him she +roared out at him:—</p> +<p>“Why have you injured me to-day by plundering my mango and +fish? How dare you do such an irreligious act? You shall soon see the +results of your impertinence!”</p> +<p>“The goddess has come upon my wife most terribly,” +thought the poor man. “Her divine power may soon kill her! What +shall I do?”</p> +<p>So he fell at the feet of the divine visitation as he thought it to +be, and said:—</p> +<p>“My most holy goddess, your dog of a servant has this day +deviated from the straight path. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb261" +href="#pb261" name="pb261">261</a>]</span>Excuse him this time, and he +will never do so a second time.”</p> +<p>“Run then with the pan which contains the fruits of your +robbery and dip it deep into my tank. Then shall the fish become alive +and the mango shall take its place in the tree.”</p> +<p>The gardener received the order most submissively, and taking the +pan in his hand flew to the tank. There he dipped it in the water and +came back to his house fully believing that his sin that day had been +forgiven, and that the cooked fish had become alive again and the mango +a living one. Thus did the cunning wife save herself from her +husband’s wrath! <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb262" href= +"#pb262" name="pb262">262</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch22" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="label">XXII.</h2> +<h2 class="main">Keep it for the Beggar.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">When anything sweet is prepared in the house on a +particular night, and when the children, after feeding to their fill, +say to the mother:—</p> +<p>“Ammâ, this pudding is sweet; keep it for the +morning,” the mother says at once:—</p> +<p>“Ask me to keep it for the beggar, and I shall do +it.”</p> +<p>“Why should I not say keep it for the morning, +Ammâ,” ask the curious children, and the South Indian +mother gives to her listening children the following story:—</p> +<p>In a certain village there lived an affectionate husband and wife. +The husband would go to look after the fields and garden and return +home with abundance of vegetables. The wife would cook and serve her +lord to his fill. Before going out in the morning the husband used to +take whatever of last night’s dishes were left cold to remain for +his breakfast.</p> +<p>The husband was a great eater of <i>dhâl</i><a class="noteref" +id="xd20e4480src" href="#xd20e4480" name="xd20e4480src">1</a> soup. +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb263" href="#pb263" name= +"pb263">263</a>]</span>Every night the wife used to prepare a large +quantity of it and leave a good portion of it to stand for the +morning’s breakfast of her lord. And he, too, owing to his taste +for the cold rice, used to warn his wife—though she was very +careful—and say:—</p> +<p>“Keep me some of this soup for the next morning.”</p> +<p>The wife used to say: “Yes, my dear husband, I shall do +so.”</p> +<p>This went on for several years. Every day the <i>dhâl</i> soup +was invariably prepared for the night meal and a good portion of it was +reserved for the cold rice. Every night, the husband, without +forgetting for even a single day, used to ask his wife to reserve a +portion. Thus passed on several years, as we have already said.</p> +<p>One night this husband had his supper. The wife had sat at her +husband’s leaf to take her supper after her lord had had his. +That night, too, our hero, as usual, repeated:—</p> +<p>“Keep, my dear, some of this soup for the morning.”</p> +<p>At once a gurgling laughter was heard near the doorsill of their +house. The pair were astonished, and searched their whole house. No one +was discovered. Again the husband said:—</p> +<p>“Keep, my dear, some of this soup for the morning.” +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb264" href="#pb264" name= +"pb264">264</a>]</span></p> +<p>Again the laughter was heard. Finding that the laughter immediately +followed his order, the husband repeated it a third time. A third time +also the laughter broke out. They were astonished. Three times had +laughter been heard in their house, and still they could see no one. +Thinking that some one must have mocked him from the neighbouring +houses, he made careful inquiries and satisfied himself that none of +his neighbours had mocked him. He was afraid at the laughter which +thrice proceeded from a part of his house, as he had heard it +distinctly.</p> +<p>That very night our hero had a sudden and unforeseen calamity, and +just as he was dragging the latch of his backyard door a serpent stung +him in his finger. Neighbours hearing of the venomous reptile in their +next house, ran there with a stout cudgel. Already the master of the +house, who was passionately fond of the <i>dhâl</i> soup, had +swooned away. His wife was mourning by his side, saying:—</p> +<p>“My dear husband. How did you forget your soup so soon and +leave us all for the other world? Just now you gave me the order, and +before tasting it even you have died.”</p> +<p>The neighbours began to search for the snake; but they did not +succeed. And again a voice exclaimed from vacuum:—</p> +<p>“This husband’s fate ended at the twelfth <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb265" href="#pb265" name= +"pb265">265</a>]</span><i><span class="corr" id="xd20e4519" title= +"Source: ghaṭika">ghaṭikâ</span></i> of this night. +Yama ordered me to go and fetch him to his world. I came down and +reached this house at the eighth <i><span class="corr" id="xd20e4523" +title="Source: ghaṭika">ghaṭikâ</span></i> when the +husband was giving the order to reserve for the morning meal his dear +<i>dhâl</i> soup. I could not contain my laughter, and so broke +out with a gurgling noise. As I am divine no one could perceive me. And +so none ever found me in this house after they heard the laughter. Then +I transformed myself into a serpent and waited for the hour to do my +death-dealing duty. The poor man is now no more. Four <i><span class= +"corr" id="xd20e4530" title= +"Source: ghaṭikas">ghaṭikâs</span></i> ago he was of +opinion that he would live and eat his cold rice to-morrow morning. How +very sanguine people are in this world of uncertainty. The cause for my +laughter was the husband’s certainty when he issued that order to +reserve the <i>dhâl</i> soup for the breakfast.”</p> +<p>Thus ended the messenger, and vanished of course to inform his +master how he had executed his orders.</p> +<p>And from that day, my children, it was fixed that our life in this +world is always uncertain, and that one who lives at this moment cannot +be sure of doing so at the next moment. While such is the case, how can +you say, “Keep the pudding for to-morrow morning.” Since +you saw in the story just related to you, that we can never be certain +of our life, you must say, instead of “for to-morrow morning, for +the beggar.” If we keep it for the beggar, <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb266" href="#pb266" name="pb266">266</a>]</span>and +if we fortunately live till to-morrow morning, we shall use a portion +of it and give the remainder to the beggar. Hence you must always, +hereafter, say when any supper from overnight is to be left for the +morning, “Keep it for the beggar, Ammâ.”</p> +<p>“Yes, mother. We shall do so hereafter,” replied the +children.</p> +<p>In India, among <span class="corr" id="xd20e4547" title= +"Source: Brâhmins">Brâhmiṇs</span>, the wife must +never take her food before her lord, unless she is pregnant or sick. In +these two cases even on the days when it is possible to avoid the meal +before her lord, the wife <span class="corr" id="xd20e4550" title= +"Source: invaribly">invariably</span> does it; on other days she cannot +probably help it when she is physically unable. And in taking her meal, +the wife sits in front of the leaf (dish) from which her husband has +eaten. Most husbands generally leave their leaves clean, some out of +pure affection to their wives and out of a good intention of not +injuring the feelings of their wives. But there are others, who, as +they are unclean in their other habits, are also unclean in their +eating. The appearance of their leaves after they have left off eating, +is like those thrown out in the streets and mutilated by crows and +dogs. But their wives, cursing their lot to have married such husbands, +must, as long as they are orthodox, eat out of those leaves. +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb267" href="#pb267" name= +"pb267">267</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e4480" href="#xd20e4480src" name="xd20e4480">1</a></span> A yellow +grain, peculiar to India.</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch23" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="label">XXIII.</h2> +<h2 class="main">Good Luck to the Lucky One; Or, Shall I Fall +Down?</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">In a certain town there lived a wealthy <span class= +"corr" id="xd20e4562" title= +"Source: Brâhmin">Brâhmiṇ</span>. He wished to build +a house—pretty large and spacious—as became his riches. For +that purpose he called in a great number of soothsayers, and fixed, +guided by their scientific opinion, a place for building the mansion. A +certain portion of every day is supposed to be bad for doing work. This +portion is sometimes called the +<i>Râhu-kâḷa</i>—the evil time of the demon +<i>râhu</i> and sometimes <i>tyâjya</i>—the time to +be avoided. And abandoning carefully all these evil hours the wealthy +<span class="corr" id="xd20e4574" title= +"Source: Brâhmin">Brâhmiṇ</span> built his mansion in +ten years. The first entrance into a new house to dwell is performed +always with a great deal of pomp and ceremony, even by the poor +according to their means. And our wealthy <span class="corr" id= +"xd20e4578" title="Source: Brâhmin">Brâhmiṇ</span> to +please the gods of the other world and the gods of this +world—<i>bhûsuras</i> <span class="corr" id="xd20e4584" +title="Source: Brâhmins">Brâhmiṇs</span>—spent +a great deal of his wealth, and <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb268" +href="#pb268" name="pb268">268</a>]</span>with <i>veoras</i> and music +sounding all around him he entered into his house.</p> +<p>The whole of the day almost was spent in ceremonies and festivities. +All the guests left the place at evening, and much exhausted by the +exertions of the day the <span class="corr" id="xd20e4594" title= +"Source: Brâhmin">Brâhmiṇ</span> house-owner retired +to rest. Before sleep could close his eyelids he heard a fearful voice +over his head exclaiming:—“Shall I fall down? Shall I fall +down?”</p> +<p>Great was the concern of the landlord at hearing this voice. He +thought that some demon had taken possession of his house, and that he +was going to pull down the roof of his house over his own head. That +very night with as much haste as he entered the new house, he vacated +it and went back to his old house.</p> +<p><i>Sirukakhaṭti perukavâḷka</i> is the Tamil +proverb. The meaning of it is “build small and live great,” +<i>i.e.</i>, build small houses without laying out much capital +uselessly in houses and live prosperously; and in villages many a rich +landlord would prefer small houses to big ones. The idea that he had +spent a great deal of money to build a big house troubled our hero. The +spaciousness of the house was one reason for the devil to come in so +easily, as he thought. When he vacated his house on the very night of +the day he entered it people began to talk all sorts of scandals about +it. The ladies in the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb269" href= +"#pb269" name="pb269">269</a>]</span>bathing places +(<i>ghaṭs</i>) in rivers began to give all sorts of colour to the +devils in that house. One said that when she was coming to the river +she saw a company of devils dancing round and round the middle pillar +of the upper storey of that unfortunate house. Another said that she +observed unearthly lights in that mansion the previous night. Thus +people talked and talked, furnishing new colours and new adventures out +of their pure imagination for a phenomena which they never saw. And our +unfortunate rich man had to lock up his house which he built after so +many days, and at the expense of so much money. Thus passed six +months.</p> +<p>In that town there lived a poor beggar <span class="corr" id= +"xd20e4613" title="Source: Brâhmin">Brâhmiṇ</span>. +He was in extreme poverty, and spent a great portion of the day in +begging from house to house his meal and clothes. He had, poor man, +seven children. With this large family he was constantly in the +greatest misery. He had not a proper house to live in. A miserable hut +was all his wealth in that village. Winter was approaching, and the +roof of their only hut began to fall down. The increasing miseries made +the poor <span class="corr" id="xd20e4616" title= +"Source: Brâhmin">Brâhmiṇ</span> resolve upon +suicide. He could not bring himself to do that by his own hand. He had +heard of the haunted house, and resolved to go there with all his +family and perish by the hands of the devils. This was his secret +intention, but he never spoke of it <span class="pagenum">[<a id= +"pb270" href="#pb270" name="pb270">270</a>]</span>to any one. One day +he came to the rich <span class="corr" id="xd20e4621" title= +"Source: Brâhmin">Brâhmiṇ</span> who was the owner of +the haunted mansion, and spoke to him thus:—</p> +<p>“My noble lord! The winter is approaching and the roof of my +hut has fallen away. If you would kindly allow it I shall pass the +rainy days in your big house.”</p> +<p>When the rich man heard this he was very glad to see that one person +at least there was in his little world who wanted the use of his house. +So, without hesitating any longer, he replied:—</p> +<p>“My most holy sir, you can have the free use of that whole +house for whatever time you may want it. It is enough if you light a +lamp there and live happily. I built it, and I am not destined to live +there. You can go and try your fortune there.”</p> +<p>So said the rich landlord, and gave the key of that haunted house to +the poor <span class="corr" id="xd20e4632" title= +"Source: Brâhmin">Brâhmiṇ</span>. The latter took it, +and with his family went and lived there from that day. That very night +he also heard the same voice: “Shall I fall down?” +“Shall I fall down?” twice. Nothing daunted, and quite +resolved to perish with his wife and children, who were sound asleep +near him, he exclaimed, “Fall down,” and lo! a golden river +of <i>mohurs</i> and <i>pagodas</i> began to fall down in the middle of +the room from the top of the roof. It began falling and falling without +any stopping till the poor <span class="corr" id="xd20e4641" title= +"Source: Brâhmin">Brâhmiṇ</span>, who sat agape +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb271" href="#pb271" name= +"pb271">271</a>]</span>with wonder, began to fear that they would all +be buried in <i>mohurs</i>. The moment he saw the sea of wealth before +him, his idea of suicide abandoned him. “Stop please,” said +he at once, and the <i>mohur</i>-fall came to a sudden stop. He was +delighted at the good nature of the devil, or whatever good spirit +might have taken possession of the house, for its having given him so +much wealth. He heaped up all the <i>mohurs</i> in one room, and locked +it up, and had the key of it in his own possession. His wife and +children got up during the <i>mohur</i>-fall. They also were informed +of everything. The poor <span class="corr" id="xd20e4659" title= +"Source: Brâhmin">Brâhmiṇ</span> advised his wife and +children to keep the matter secret, and they, to their great credit, +did so. They all—the poor parents and children—rejoiced at +the good fortune that had made its visit to them.</p> +<p>As soon as morning dawned the poor <span class="corr" id="xd20e4665" +title="Source: Brâhmin">Brâhmiṇ</span> converted +little by little his <i>mohurs</i> into money and bought grains and +clothes for his family. This he did day by day till rumour began to +spread that the poor <span class="corr" id="xd20e4671" title= +"Source: Brâhmin">Brâhmiṇ</span> had found a +treasure-trove in the rich landlord’s house. Of course this +rumour reached the ears of the wealthy man also. He came to the poor +<span class="corr" id="xd20e4674" title= +"Source: Brâhmin">Brâhmiṇ</span> and asked him all +about the treasure-trove. The latter to his great honour related to the +landlord every bit of the <i>mohur</i>-fall. He also wished to witness +it and sleep in the room with the poor <span class="corr" id= +"xd20e4681" title="Source: Brâhmin">Brâhmiṇ</span>, +for the first time in his life, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb272" +href="#pb272" name="pb272">272</a>]</span>his thirst for <i>mohurs</i> +inducing him to do so. At about midnight “Shall I fall +down?” was again heard.</p> +<p>“Fall down” said the poor <span class="corr" id= +"xd20e4691" title="Source: Brâhmin">Brâhmiṇ</span>, +and lo! the <i>mohurs</i> began to descend like a water-fall. But, +horror of horrors, they all appeared as so many scorpions to the +house-owner. The poor man was heaping up the gold coins, but all of +them seemed to crawl as so many scorpions to the eyes of the +landlord.</p> +<p>“Stop please,” said the poor man, and the +<i>mohur</i>-fall stopped.</p> +<p>Then turning to the house-owner, the poor man said: “My lord, +you may take home this heap for your use.”</p> +<p>The house-owner began to weep and said: “Most fortunate of +mankind, I have heard my old father often repeat a proverb, ‘To +the fortunate fortune comes,’ and its meaning I have discovered +to-day only. I built the house and ran away when I heard the +‘shall I fall.’ No doubt I did very well, for had I +remained a scorpion torrent would have sent me to the other world. Know +then my most fortunate friend, that I see all your <i>mohurs</i> as so +many scorpions. I have not the fortune to see them as <i>mohurs</i>. +But you have that gift. So from this moment this house is yours. +Whatever you can convert into money of your <i>mohurs</i> I shall +receive and bless you.” <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb273" +href="#pb273" name="pb273">273</a>]</span></p> +<p>So saying the house-owner came out of the room fearing the +scorpions. And our poor man thus had all the fortune to himself, and +was no longer a poor man. He soon became one of the wealthiest of men +of his time, but remembering that he owed all his riches to the +<span class="corr" id="xd20e4718" title= +"Source: wealthyl andlord">wealthy landlord</span> who gave him the +house, he used to share with the latter half of his wealth every +year.</p> +<p>This story explains the Tamil proverb <i>Madrishṭam +uḷḷavanukku kiḍaikkum</i>; to the fortunate good +fortune.</p> +<p>N.B.—This story was also related to me by my step-mother whose +birth-place is a village in the Trichinopoly district.</p> +<p class="signed">N. S. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb274" href= +"#pb274" name="pb274">274</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch24" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="label">XXIV.</h2> +<h2 class="main">Retaliation—Palikkuppali.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">There is a proverb in <span class="corr" id= +"xd20e4738" title="Source: Tâmil">Tamil̤</span> called +<i lang="ta-latn">Palikkuppali vâṅgukiradu</i> which would +best be translated by the expression “tit for tat,” and the +following story I heard when a boy from my step-mother, illustrating +that proverb, and I have of late found the same story also in the +Trichinopoly districts.</p> +<p>In a certain village there lived a poor Śûdra. He had +made a vow to the goddess of his village, that if he came out +successfully in a certain undertaking he would offer her a couple of +goats. And he succeeded in his undertaking, and thought that his +goddess alone had granted his request. Great was his joy and greater +became his faith in her extraordinary powers. And as he promised he +brought two fat goats and sacrificed them to her.</p> +<p>These goats thus sacrificed and the Śûdra sacrificer who +meanwhile had died by a sudden fever, after a short time were all +re-born in the world to undergo the results of their goodness or sin. +The two goats, because they were sacrificed to the <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb275" href="#pb275" name= +"pb275">275</a>]</span>goddess, were re-born as the king and the +minister of a large country. The Śûdra, as he had as much +faith in his former life as in his goddess, was reborn in the +priest’s (<i>gurukkula</i>) caste, of course neither the king and +his minister nor the priest had any reason to know their former life, +until the death of the latter approached, as we shall presently see. A +large kingdom fell to the share of the king, and he with his minister +reigned over it most peacefully. In an unfrequented wilderness was a +famous temple of a powerful goddess of of that country, and in that +pagoda the priest regularly conducted her worship.</p> +<p>Thus passed several years, the king and minister happy in their own +kingdom, and the priest executing his religious duties in the +wilderness. The priest was leading a most calm and holy life, eating +what grew in the wilderness. His life was as pure as pure can be.</p> +<p>But for all that fate would not forgive him for his acts in his +former life.</p> +<p>The king and the minister had vowed to the goddess of the wilderness +that if they returned successfully from the conquest of an enemy of +theirs they would offer her some human sacrifice. And so they returned, +and to make entire their vow to the goddess they left their kingdom +like ordinary men and came to the wood. All along the way they searched +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb276" href="#pb276" name= +"pb276">276</a>]</span>for a person to sacrifice, but no +one—fortunately for him—was to be found. They still thought +that the vow must not be left unaccomplished, and resolved upon +catching the priest of the temple and offering him up as their intended +sacrifice. When such strong people like the king and his minister +resolved to do so, what could the poor priest do? He was quite unable +to escape when those two informed him of what they were going to do +with him on his entering to worship the goddess. Said the +priest:—</p> +<p>“Sirs! You have come here resolved upon offering me up as a +sacrifice to the goddess. I cannot hereafter escape your hold. But if +you would allow me to perform my <i>pûjâ</i> to the goddess +this morning also, I shall gladly die after having done my +duty.”</p> +<p>So said the priest, and the king and the minister watched at the +entrance and let him in.</p> +<p>The priest went into the <i>Garbhagṛiha</i>—the holy of +the holies in the temple, and performed his worship to the goddess. +After that was over he gave the image a severe blow on its back and +thus addressed it:—</p> +<p>“Most merciless goddess. What have you done for all my faith +in you. In this lonely wilderness, without knowing any other duty than +your worship, I had been your true servant for the past many years. And +in reward for all that, I must fall now a <span class="pagenum">[<a id= +"pb277" href="#pb277" name="pb277">277</a>]</span>prey to the sacrifice +of the king and the minister who are sharpening their knives outside to +cut off my head at this moment. Is this the result of all my +<i>pûjâ</i> (worship) to you.”</p> +<p>So spake the priest, and the goddess, laughing, thus replied from +the vacuum:—</p> +<p>“My true priest. Your acts in your former life must trouble +you in this. And the charitable acts of this life, even, cannot protect +you in your next birth. In your former birth you had murdered two +goats. They were born as king and minister, and have dragged you here +to murder you. But this—the murder you are to undergo soon, by +these hands will relieve you only of one of the two murders of your +former life. And for the other murder you and they would be re-born +again, and again they would kill you. So in your next third life from +this one you would enjoy the fruits of all this devotion. Since now you +know the story of your former life, you will forgive me, I +think.”</p> +<p>Thus spoke the goddess, and the priest, as the knowledge of his +former life dawned upon him, by the grace of the goddess, seemed +resolved to die, in order to pay for his former sin. But the idea that +in the next life he was to undergo the same punishment, vexed him much, +and falling down at the goddess’s feet, he respectfully requested +her to try her best to let him off the next life; and the <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb278" href="#pb278" name= +"pb278">278</a>]</span>goddess’s heart was also moved at the +severity of fate which would make her devotee pass through one more +life in misery before he enjoyed the fruits of his devotion. So she +devised the following plan to exculpate him from his two crimes at the +same time, and thus replied:—</p> +<p>“Priest! ‘Intelligence can conquer even Fate,’ is +the proverb. When <i>Kâli</i> gave 500 years’ life to +Vikramâditya in his town, Bhatti, his minister, by making the +king live six months in his capital and six months in the jungle, made +his master’s life to last for 1000 years. So by intelligence we +conquer our fate too, sometimes. So hear my advice. Ask the king who +has come to murder you to hold one end of the knife, and request his +minister to hold the other end. Ask both of them to aim the blow at +your neck; that will accomplish everything complete during this life. +They will have no revenge to take from you in your next +life.”</p> +<p>So saying, the voice of the goddess stopped. The priest came back +with a cheerful heart to the king and the minister, and asked them to +oblige him by each of them holding one end of the knife and murdering +him. They agreed, and performed thus their vow<span class="corr" id= +"xd20e4796" title="Not in source">.</span> The poor priest, too, +without having another miserable life, was born a king in his next +life, and lived in prosperity. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb279" +href="#pb279" name="pb279">279</a>]</span></p> +<p>Here the story ends, and the story-teller in the Hindû +household, and in my case my stepmother, would at once moralise, that +if we did anything to any one in this life, that one would pay us out +for it in our next life.</p> +<p>N.B.—I am led to think that this story does not contain a +purely Hindû moral. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb280" href= +"#pb280" name="pb280">280</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch25" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="label">XXV.</h2> +<h2 class="main">The Beggar and the Five Muffins.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">In a certain village there lived a poor beggar and his +wife. The man used to go out every morning with a clean vessel in his +hand, return home with rice enough for the day’s meal, and thus +they lived on in extreme poverty.</p> +<p>One day a poor Mádhava <span class="corr" id="xd20e4814" +title="Source: Brâhmin">Brâhmiṇ</span> invited the +pair to a feast, and among Mádhavas muffins +(<i>tôśai</i>) are always a part of the good things on +festive occasions. So during the feast the beggar and his wife had +their fill of muffins. They were so pleased with them, that the woman +was extremely anxious to prepare some muffins in her own house, and +began to save a little rice every day from what her husband brought her +for the purpose. When enough had been thus collected she begged a poor +neighbour’s wife to give her a little black pulse which the +latter—praised be her charity—readily did. The faces of the +beggar and his wife literally glowed with joy that day, for were they +not to taste the long-desired muffins for a second time? <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb281" href="#pb281" name="pb281">281</a>]</span></p> +<p>The woman soon turned the rice she had been saving, and the black +pulse she had obtained from her neighbour into a paste, and mixing it +well with a little salt, green chillies, coriander seed and curds, set +it in a pan on the fire; and with her mouth watering all the while, +prepared five muffins! By the time her husband had returned from his +collection of alms, she was just turning out of the pan the fifth +muffin! And when she placed the whole five muffins before him his +mouth, too, began to water. He kept two for himself and two he placed +before his wife, but what was to be done with the fifth? He did not +understand the way out of this difficulty. That half and half made one, +and that each could take two and a half muffins was a question too hard +for him <span class="corr" id="xd20e4823" title="Source: too">to</span> +solve. The beloved muffins must not be torn in pieces; so he said to +his wife that either he or she must take the remaining one. But how +were they to decide which should be the lucky one?</p> +<p>Proposed the husband:—“Let us both shut our eyes and +stretch ourselves as if in sleep, each on a verandah on either side the +kitchen. Whoever opens an eye and speaks first gets only two muffins; +and the other gets three.”</p> +<p>So great was the desire of each to get the three muffins, that they +both abided by the agreement, and the woman, though her mouth watered +for the muffins, resolved to go through the ordeal. She <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb282" href="#pb282" name= +"pb282">282</a>]</span>placed the five cakes in a pan and covered it +over with another pan. She then carefully bolted the door inside and +asking her husband to go into the east verandah, she lay down in the +west one. Sleep she had none, and with closed eyes kept guard over her +husband: for if he spoke first he would have only two muffins, and the +other three would come to her share. Equally watchful was her husband +over her.</p> +<p>Thus passed one whole day—two—three! The house was never +opened! No beggar came to receive the morning dole. The whole village +began to enquire after the missing beggar. What had become of him? What +had become of his wife?</p> +<p>“See whether his house is locked on the outside and whether he +has left us to go to some other village,” spoke the +greyheads.</p> +<p>So the village watchman came and tried to push the door open, but it +would not open!</p> +<p>“Surely,” said they, “it is locked on the inside! +Some great calamity must have happened. Perhaps thieves have entered +the house, and after plundering their property, murdered the +inmates.”</p> +<p>“But what property is a beggar likely to have?” thought +the village assembly, and not liking to waste time in idle +speculations, they sent two watchmen to climb the roof and open the +latch from the inside.</p> +<p>Meanwhile the whole village, men, women, and children, stood outside +the beggar’s house to see what <span class="pagenum">[<a id= +"pb283" href="#pb283" name="pb283">283</a>]</span>had taken place +inside. The watchmen jumped into the house, and to their horror found +the beggar and his wife stretched on opposite verandahs like two +corpses. They opened the door, and the whole village rushed in. They, +too, saw the beggar and his wife lying so still that they thought them +to be dead. And though the beggar pair had heard everything that passed +around them, neither would open an eye or speak. For whoever did it +first would get only two muffins!</p> +<p>At the public expense of the village two green litters of bamboo and +cocoanut leaves were prepared on which to remove the unfortunate pair +to the cremation ground.</p> +<p>“How loving they must have been to have died together like +this!” said some greybeards of the village.</p> +<p>In time the cremation ground was reached, and village watchmen had +collected a score of dried cowdung cakes and a bundle of firewood from +each house, for the funeral pyre. From these charitable contributions +<i>two</i> pyres had been prepared, one for the man and one for the +woman. The pyre was then lighted, and when the fire approached his leg, +the man thought it time to give up the ordeal and to be satisfied with +only two muffins! So while the villagers were still continuing the +funeral rites, they suddenly heard a voice:— <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb284" href="#pb284" name="pb284">284</a>]</span></p> +<p>“I shall be satisfied with two muffins!”</p> +<p>Immediately another voice replied from the woman’s +pyre:—</p> +<p>“I have gained the day; let me have the three!”</p> +<p>The villagers were amazed and ran away. One bold man alone stood +face to face with the supposed dead husband and wife. He was a bold +man, indeed for when a dead man or a man supposed to have died comes to +life, village people consider him to be a ghost. However, this bold +villager questioned the beggars until he came to know their story. He +then went after the runaways and related to them the whole story of the +five muffins to their great amazement.</p> +<p>But what was to be done to the people who had thus voluntarily faced +death out of love for muffins. Persons who had ascended the green +litter and slept on the funeral pyre could never come back to the +village! If they did the whole village would perish. So the elders +built a small hut in a deserted meadow outside the village and made the +beggar and his wife live there.</p> +<p>Ever after that memorable day our hero and his wife were called the +muffin beggar, and the muffin beggar’s wife, and many old ladies +and young children from the village use to bring them muffins in the +morning and evening, out of pity for them, for had they not loved +muffin so much that they underwent death in life? <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb285" href="#pb285" name="pb285">285</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch26" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="label">XXVI.</h2> +<h2 class="main">The Brahmarâkshas and the Hair.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">In a certain village there lived a very rich landlord, +who owned several villages, but was such a great miser that no tenant +would willingly cultivate his lands, and those he had gave him not a +little trouble. He was indeed so vexed with them that he left all his +lands untilled, and his tanks and irrigation channels dried up. All +this, of course, made him poorer and poorer day by day. Nevertheless he +never liked the idea of freely opening his purse to his tenants and +obtaining their good will.</p> +<p>While he was in this frame of mind a learned <i>Sanyâsi</i> +paid him a visit, and on his representing his case to him, he +said:—</p> +<p>“My dear son,—I know an incantation (<i>mantra</i>) in +which I can instruct you. If you repeat it for three months day and +night, a Brahmarâkshas will appear before you on the first day of +the fourth month. Make him your servant, and then you can set at naught +all your petty troubles with your <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb286" +href="#pb286" name="pb286">286</a>]</span>tenants. The +Brahmarâkshas will obey all your orders, and you will find him +equal to one hundred servants.”</p> +<p>Our hero fell at his feet and begged to be instructed at once. The +sage then sat facing the east and his disciple the landlord facing the +west, and in this position formal instruction was given, after which +the <i>Sanyâsi</i> went his way.</p> +<p>The landlord, mightily pleased at what he had learnt, went on +practising the incantation, till, on the first day of the fourth month, +the great Brahmarâkshas stood before him.</p> +<p>“What do you want, sir, from my hands?” said he; +“what is the object of your having propitiated me for these three +months?”</p> +<p>The landlord was thunderstruck at the huge monster who now stood +before him and still more so at his terrible voice, but nevertheless he +said:—</p> +<p>“I want you to become my servant and obey all my +commands.”</p> +<p>“Agreed,” answered the Brahmarâkshas in a very +mild tone, for it was his duty to leave off his impertinent ways when +any one who had performed the required penance wanted him to become his +servant; “Agreed. But you must always give me work to do; when +one job is finished you must at once give me a second, and so on. If +you fail I shall kill you.”</p> +<p>The landlord, thinking that he would have work <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb287" href="#pb287" name="pb287">287</a>]</span>for +several such Brahmarâkshasas, was pleased to see that his +demoniacal servant was so eager to help him. He at once took him to a +big tank which had been dried up for several years, and pointing it out +spoke as follows:—</p> +<p>“You see this big tank; you must make it as deep as the height +of two palmyra trees and repair the embankment wherever it is +broken.”</p> +<p>“Yes, my master, your orders shall be obeyed,” humbly +replied the servant and fell to work.</p> +<p>The landlord, thinking that it would take several months, if not +years, to do the work in the tank, for it was two <i>kos</i> long and +one <i>kos</i> broad, returned delighted to his home, where his people +were awaiting him with a sumptuous dinner. When enemies were +approaching the Brahmarâkshas came to inform his master that he +had finished his work in the tank. He was indeed astonished and feared +for his own life!</p> +<p>“What! finished the work in one day which I thought would +occupy him for months and years; if he goes on at this rate, how shall +I keep him employed. And when I cannot find it for him he will kill +me!” Thus he thought and began to weep; his wife wiped the tears +that ran down his face, and said:—</p> +<p>“My dearest husband, you must not lose courage. Get out of the +Brahmarâkshas all the work you can <span class="pagenum">[<a id= +"pb288" href="#pb288" name="pb288">288</a>]</span>and then let me know. +I’ll give him something that will keep him engaged for a very +very long time, and then he’ll trouble us no more.”</p> +<p>But her husband only thought her words to be meaningless and +followed the Brahmarâkshas to see what he had done. Sure enough +the thing was as complete as could be, so he asked him to plough +<i>all</i> his lands, which extended over twenty villages! This was +done in two <i><span class="corr" id="xd20e4933" title= +"Source: ghaṭikas">ghaṭikâs</span></i>! He next made +him dig and cultivate <i>all</i> his garden lands. This was done in the +twinkling of an eye! The landlord now grew hopeless.</p> +<p>“What more work have you for me?” roared the +Brahmarâkshas, as he found that his master had nothing for him to +do, and that the time for his eating him up was approaching.</p> +<p>“My dear friend,” said he, “my wife says she has a +little job to give you; do it please now. I think that that is the last +thing I can give you to do, and after it in obedience to the conditions +under which you took service with me, I must become your +prey!<span class="corr" id="xd20e4943" title= +"Not in source">”</span></p> +<p>At this moment his wife came to them, holding in her left hand a +long hair, which she had just pulled out from her head, and +said:—</p> +<p>“Well, Brahmarâkshas, I have only a very light job for +you. Take this hair, and when you have made it straight, bring it back +to me.”</p> +<p>The Brahmarâkshas calmly took it, and sat in a <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb289" href="#pb289" name= +"pb289">289</a>]</span><i>pîpal</i> tree to make it straight. He +rolled it several times on his thigh and lifted it up to see if it +became straight; but no, it would still bend! Just then it occurred to +him that goldsmiths, when they want to make their metal wires straight, +have them heated in fire; so he went to a fire and placed the hair over +it, and of course it frizzled up with a nasty smell! He was +horrified!</p> +<p>“What will my master’s wife say if I do not produce the +hair she gave me?”</p> +<p>So he became mightily afraid, and ran away.</p> +<p>This story is told to explain the modern custom of nailing a handful +of hair to a tree in which devils are supposed to dwell, to drive them +away. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb290" href="#pb290" name= +"pb290">290</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +</div> +<div class="back"> +<div id="notes" class="div1"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">Notes</h2> +<div class="div2"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main">Notes to XIII.—First Part.</h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Few stories are more familiar and widely spread than +that of the Lost Camel, which occurs in the opening of the romance. It +was formerly, and perhaps is still, reproduced in English school +reading-books. Voltaire, in chapter iii. of his “<span lang= +"fr">Zadig; ou, La Destinée</span>” (the materials of +which he is said to have derived from Geuelette’s +“<span lang="fr">Soirées Bretonnes</span>,”) has a +version in which a lost palfrey and a she dog are described by the +“sage” from the traces they had left on the path over which +they passed. The great Arabian historian and traveller Mas’udi, +in his “Meadows of Gold, and Mines of Gems,” written A.D. +943, gives the story of the Lost Camel, and from Mas’udi it was +probably taken into the MS. text of the “Thousand and One +Nights,” procured in the East (?Constantinople) by Wortley +Montague, and now preserved in the Bodleian Library, Oxford.<a class= +"noteref" id="xd20e4979src" href="#xd20e4979" name="xd20e4979src">1</a> +In that MS. it forms an incident in the story of the Sultan of Yeman +and his Three Sons: the princes, after their father’s death, +quarrel over the succession to the throne, and at length agree to lay +their respective claims before one of the tributary princes. On the +road one of them remarks, “A camel has lately passed this way +loaded with grain on one side, and with sweetmeats <span class="corr" +id="xd20e4982" title="Source: on on">on</span> the other.” The +second observes, “and the camel is blind of one eye.” The +third adds, “and it has lost its tail.” The owner comes up, +and on hearing their description of his beast, forces them to go before +the king of the country, to whom they explain how they discovered the +defects of the camel and its lading. In a Persian work, entitled +“Nigaristan,” three brothers rightly conjecture in like +manner that a camel <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb291" href="#pb291" +name="pb291">291</a>]</span>which had passed, and which they had not +seen, was blind of an eye, wanted a tooth, was lame, and laden with oil +on the one side, and honey on the other. The story is also found in the +Hebrew Talmud. Two slaves are overheard by their master conversing +about a camel that had gone before them along the road. It was blind of +an eye, and laden with two skin bottles, one of which contained wine, +the other oil. In a Siberian version (Radloff), three youths are met by +a man who asks them if they had seen his camel, to which they reply by +describing the colour and defects of the animal so exactly that he +accuses them to the Prince of having stolen it. “I have lost a +camel, my lord,” said he, “and when I met these three young +men we saluted, and I told them that I had lost my camel. Quoth one of +these youths, ‘Was thy camel of a light colour?’ The second +asked, ‘was thy camel lame?’ And the third, ‘Was it +not blind of an eye?’ I answered Yes to their questions. Now +decide, my lord. It is evident these young men have stolen my +camel.” Then the Prince asked the eldest, “How did you know +that the camel was of a light colour?” He replied, “By some +hairs which has fallen on the ground when it had rubbed itself against +trees.” The two others gave answers similar to those in our +version. Then said the Prince to the man, “Thy camel is lost; go +and look for it.” So the stranger mounted his horse and departed. +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb292" href="#pb292" name= +"pb292">292</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="div2"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main">Notes to XIII.—The Second Part.</h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first"><i>The Hunter and his Faithful Dog.</i>—A +variety of this story is cited from a Cawnpore newspaper, in the +“Asiatic Journal,” Vol. <span class="sc">XV</span>. (new +series), Part II. October, 1834, p. 78, which is to the following +effect:—A Bunjarrah named Dabee had a dog called Bhyro, the +faithful companion of his travels, who guarded his goods from robbers +while he slept. He wished to go to a distant part of the country to +trade in grain, but had not sufficient funds for the purpose. After +much cogitation, he at length resolved to pledge his dog for 1,000 +rupees, and when he applied to several persons was laughed at for his +folly; but a wealthy merchant named Dyaram gave the money, on condition +that it should be paid back within twelve months, taking the dog Bhyro +in pledge. When eleven months had passed, the merchant began to bewail +the stupidity which had induced him to lend so large a sum on so +precarious a security. His relentings were, however, premature. One +dark and dreary night he was aroused from his slumbers by a great +noise, occasioned by the clashing of swords and the barking of Bhyro. A +band of armed men had entered the house with intent to plunder, but +before they could effect their purpose they had been observed by the +faithful Bhyro, who commenced an attack upon them. Before Dyaram could +render any assistance, Bhyro had laid two of the robbers dead at his +feet; a third, on the approach of Dyaram, aimed a blow at his head, +which was prevented from taking effect by Bhyro seizing the ruffian by +the throat and laying him prostrate on the ground. After peace was +restored, Dyaram congratulated himself on having received Bhyro in +pledge for the Bunjarrah, by which act he not only escaped being +plundered, but in all probably murdered. Next morning <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb293" href="#pb293" name= +"pb293">293</a>]</span>Dyaram called Bhyro, and after caressing him, +said:—“The service you rendered me last night is more than +an equivalent for the 1,000 rupees I lent your master; go, faithful +creature. I give you a free discharge from your obligation as security +for him.” Bhyro shook his head in token that it was impossible +for him to go until his master returned; but Dyaram, comprehending his +meaning, soon arranged matters by writing a statement of the +circumstances, and giving a voucher for the 1,000 rupees. This document +he tied round Bhyro’s neck, which done, Bhyro expressed his +delight by leaping about in every direction, and, after licking the +hands of Dyaram, darted out of the house and set off in quest of his +master. While these scenes were transpiring in Dyaram’s house, +Dabee was not unmindful of the pledge he had left behind him, and, +having succeeded in his speculation, was returning with all haste to +redeem it. At his last stage homewards he was surprised to see Bhyro +approaching him with every demonstration of joy, but at sight of him +Dabee’s rage was kindled, and repulsing Bhyro as he fawned upon +him he thus addressed him:—“O, ungrateful wretch! is this +the return you have made for my kindness to you? and is this the manner +in which you have established my character for veracity? You remained +faithful to your trust during eleven months—could you not have +held out for thirty short days? You have, by your desertion from your +post, entailed dishonour upon me, and for this you shall die.” +And, so saying, he drew his sword and slew him. After having committed +this deed, he observed a paper tied round Bhyro’s neck; having +read it, his grief was indescribable. To atone in some measure for his +rash act, caused poor Bhyro to be buried on the spot where he fell, and +a superb monument to be erected over his remains. To the grave of +Bhyro, even at the present day, resort natives who have been bitten by +dogs, they believing that the dust collected there, when applied to the +wounds, is an antidote for hydrophobia. <span class="pagenum">[<a id= +"pb294" href="#pb294" name="pb294">294</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="div2"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main">Notes to XIII.—The Third Part.</h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first"><i>The Brahman’s Wife and the +Mongoose.</i>—We have, in this story, an Indian variety of the +well-known Welsh legend of Llewellyn and his dog Gellert. A +<span class="corr" id="xd20e5009" title= +"Source: similiar">similar</span> legend was current in France during +the Middle Ages. But our story—<i>mutatis mutandis</i>—is +as old as the third century B.C., since it is found in a Buddhist work +of that period. It also occurs in two Sanskrit forms of the celebrated +Fables of Pilpay, or Bidnaia namely the “Pancha Tantra” +(five chapters), which is said to date as far back as the 5th century +A.D., and the “Hitopadesa” (Friendly Counsels); also in the +Arabian and other Eastern versions of the same work. It is found in all +the texts of the Book of Sindibad—Greek, Syriac, Persian, Hebrew, +Old Castilian, Arabic, &c., and in the several European versions, +known generally under the title of “The History of the Seven Wise +Masters,” the earliest form of which being a Latin prose work +entitled “Dolopathos.” There are, of course, differences in +the details of the numerous versions both Western and Eastern, but the +fundamental outline is the same in all. In my work on the migrations of +popular tales, I have reproduced all the known versions of this +world-wide story, with the exception of that in the present romance, +which is singular in representing the woman as killing herself after +she had discovered her fatal mistake, and her husband as slaying his +little son and himself. The author of the romance probably added these +tragedies, in order to enable the supposed narrator to more forcibly +impress the king with the <span class="corr" id="xd20e5015" title= +"Source: grevious">grievous</span> consequences of acting in affairs of +moment with inconsiderateness and precipitation. In most versions it is +the husband who kills the faithful animal. Among the Malays the story +of the Snake and the Mongoose is current in this <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb295" href="#pb295" name= +"pb295">295</a>]</span>form:—A man left a tame bear in charge of +his house, and of his sleeping child, while he was absent from home. On +his return he missed his child, the house was in disorder, as if some +great struggle had taken place, and the floor was covered with blood. +Hastily concluding that the bear had killed and devoured the child, the +enraged father slew the animal with his spear, but almost immediately +afterwards found the carcase of a tiger, which the faithful bear had +defeated and killed, and the child emerged unharmed from the jungle, +where it had taken refuge.</p> +<p>In a black-letter English edition of the “Seven Wise +Masters,” the knight, having slain his hound and discovered his +child safe in its cradle, exclaims (and here the hand of the misogynist +monkish writer is very evident!)—“Woe be to me, that, for +the words of my wife, I have slain my good and best greyhound, the +which had saved my child’s life, and hath slain the serpent; +therefore I will put myself to penance.” And so he brake his +sword in three pieces, and travelled in the direction of the Holy Land, +and abode there all the days of his life. The preceding story of the +Hunter and his Dog, it will be observed, is closely allied to that of +the Brahman’s Wife and the Mongoose; and in conclusion, where the +hunter erects a stately tomb over his dog’s remains, it presents +a striking resemblance to the Welsh legend of Llewellyn and the dog +Gellert, which is probably not merely fortuitous.</p> +<p>A very curious version is found in a black-letter chapter-book, +entitled the “Seven Wise Mistresses,” written in imitation +of the “Seven Wise Masters,” by one Thomas Howard, about +the end of the seventeenth century, in which a knight and his lady are +wrecked and cast ashore on a desert island, and the knight soon +afterwards dies. His wife takes a thorn out of a lion’s foot +(Androcles in petticoats), and the grateful animal follows her about, +and provides her with food, and this is how the story goes +on:—</p> +<p>“At last she began mourning to herself, deploring her +condition in living in such obscurity in a foreign Country, and as her +daily companion, a savage Beast, her mind yearning after her own +habitation, she thus complained: <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb296" +href="#pb296" name="pb296">296</a>]</span>’Oh, how hath fortune +frowned on me that I am driven out from all human knowledge, and am +glad to take up my habitation with the Beast of the Field!’</p> +<p>“As she thus complained to herself, the Devil chanced to +appear to her, and demanded the cause of her complaint, and she related +all to him as you have heard. Then said he to her: ‘What wilt +thou give and I will provide a ship which shall carry thee home to thy +own country.’ She answered: ‘Half my Estates.’</p> +<p>“<span class="corr" id="xd20e5032" title= +"Not in source">‘</span>Nay,’ said the Devil, ‘If +thou wilt give me thy Soul at the term of twelve years, I will set thee +down in thy own country, and thou shalt live and flourish so +long.’ ‘God forbid,’ said the Lady. ‘I would +rather end my wretched life in this solitary island than +that.<span class="corr" id="xd20e5035" title= +"Not in source">’</span> ‘Why then,’ said the Devil, +‘I will make this bargain with you, that if you abstain from +sleeping all the time of our voyage, which shall be but three days, I +will have nothing to do with your Soul; if you sleep, I will have it as +I have said.’</p> +<p>“And upon this bargain the lady ventured, provided she might +have her Lion with her. So ‘twas concluded, and a brave Ship came +and took the Lady and her Lion. When she lay down the Lion lay by her, +and if she slumbered the Lion would touch her with his paw, by which +means he kept her awake all the voyage, until she landed in her own +country, and being come to her Father’s house, she knocked at the +gate. Then the Porter coming with all speed opened the gate and thought +that it was a Beggar.</p> +<p>“Frowningly he shut it again, saying, ‘There’s +nothing here for you.’ Then she bounced at the gate again, and +asked the Porter if such a Knight lived there, meaning her Father, and +he said ‘Yes.’ ‘Then<span class="corr" id="xd20e5042" +title="Not in source">,</span>’ said she, ‘Pray, deliver +this piece of ring unto him.’ Now this ring was it she brake +betwixt her Father and she at her departure out of the land. Then the +Porter delivered the Ring to his Master, saying<span class="corr" id= +"xd20e5045" title="Source: ;">:</span> ‘The Beggar woman at the +gate willed me to deliver the piece of ring unto you.’</p> +<p>“When the Knight saw the ring he fell down in a swound but +when he was revived he said, ‘Call her in, for she is my +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb297" href="#pb297" name= +"pb297">297</a>]</span>only Daughter, whom I thought was dead.’ +‘Then,’ said the Porter, ‘I dare not call her in, for +there is a mighty Lion with her.’ ‘Though it be,’ +said the Knight, ‘call her in.’ Then said the Porter [to +the Lady], ‘You are to come in, but leave your Lion +outside.<span class="corr" id="xd20e5052" title= +"Not in source">’</span> ‘No,’ said the Lady, +‘my Lion goes whereever I go, and where he is not, there will I +not be.’</p> +<p>“And when she came to her Father she fell down on her knees +and wept. Her Father took her up in his arms and kissed her, weeping as +fast, and after he clothed her in purple, and placed her by him in a +chair, and demanded an account of her travels, and she told him all +that had happened, and how the Lion had saved her life, and was the +greatest comfort she had in the Wilderness. It chanced afterwards that +as the Knight was going into his Wood to look after his young Horses, +he met with a wild Boar, with whom he fell in combat. The Lion loved +the Old Knight, and by accident walking along he scented the Boar, and +as the Lion ran toward the place where the Boar was, the Steward espied +him, and he ran into the Palace, and cryed out, <span class="corr" id= +"xd20e5057" title="Source: the ‘">‘the</span> Lion is +running after my Master to destroy him.’</p> +<p>“Then the Lady sent after him ten of her servants, who met the +Lion, his mouth all bloody, and they ran back and told the Lady the +Lion had destroyed her aged Father. Then said the Lady, ‘O woe is +me that ever I was born, that have brought a Lion from far to destroy +my own Father.’ Therefore she commanded her servants to slay the +<span class="corr" id="xd20e5063" title="Source: Lyon">Lion</span>, +which no sooner was done but her Father came in, and said; ‘O, I +have met with a wild Boar, with whom I fought, and there came the Lion +to my aid, and slew the Boar, and so saved my life, else I had died by +the Boar.’</p> +<p>“When the Lady heard this, O how she wept and wrung her hands, +saying, ‘For the words of a wicked Steward, I have slain my good +Lion, who hath saved my life and my Father’s. Cursed be the time +I was advised by him.’”</p> +<hr class="tb"> +<p><i>The Faithless Wife and the Ungrateful Blind Man.</i>—I do +not remember having met with this story in any other collection, +although there are there many tales in Asiatic story-books of +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb298" href="#pb298" name= +"pb298">298</a>]</span>women abandoning their blind or infirm husbands, +and going off with strange men. A very considerable proportion, in fact +of Eastern stories turn upon the alleged wickedness and profligacy and +intrigues of women. This most unjust estimate of “the sex” +seems to have been universal in Asiatic countries from every remote +times and probably was introduced into Europe through the Crusades. Not +a few of the mediæval Monkish tales represent women in a very +unfavourable light, and this is also the case in our early English +jest-books, which were compiled soon after the invention of printing. +In the oldest Indian literature, however, especially the two grand +epics “Ramayana” and “Mahabharata,” occur +several notable tales of noble women, such as “Dushyanta and +Sakuntala,” and the charming romance of “Nala and +Damayanti;” and in another work, the “Adventures of the Ten +princes,” (“Dasa Kumara Charita,”) the fine story of +Gomiui, who is held up as a pattern to her sex. <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb299" href="#pb299" name="pb299">299</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="div2"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main">Notes to XIII.—The Fourth Part.</h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first"><i>The Wonderful Mango-fruit.</i>—A variety of +this story occurs in the Persian “Tuti Nama” of +Nakhshabi:—A Prince, who is very ill, sends a parrot of great +sagacity to procure him some fruit of the Tree of Life. When at length +the bird returns with the life-giving fruit, the Prince scruples to eat +of it, upon which the parrot relates the legend of “Solomon and +the Water of Immortality;” how that wise monarch declined to +procure immunity from death, on consideration that he should thus +survive all his friends and female favourites. The Prince, however, +being suspicious regarding the fruit, sent some trusty messengers to +“bring the first apple that fell from the Tree of +Existence.” But it happened that a black snake had poisoned it by +seizing it in its mouth and then letting it drop again. When the +messengers returned with the fruit, the Prince tried the effect on a +holy man, who instantly falls down dead. Upon seeing this, the Prince +dooms the parrot to death; but the sagacious bird suggests that, before +the Prince should execute him for treason, he should himself go to the +Tree of Life and make another experiment with its fruit. The Prince +does so, and, returning home, gives part of the fruit to an old woman, +“who, from age and infirmity, had not stirred abroad for many +years;” and, no sooner had she tasted it, than she was changed +into a charming girl of eighteen. But more closely resembling our story +is a version in a Canarese collection, entitled “Katha +Manjari”:—A certain king had a magpie that flew one day to +heaven with another magpie. From thence it took away some mango seed, +and, having returned, gave it to the king, saying:—</p> +<p>“If you cause this to be planted and grow, whoever eats of its +fruit old age will forsake him and his youth be restored.”</p> +<p>The king was much pleased, and caused it to be planted in +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb300" href="#pb300" name= +"pb300">300</a>]</span>his favourite garden. After some years, buds +appeared and became flowers, then young fruit, then full grown; and +when the fruit was ripe the king ordered one to be plucked and brought +to him, when he gave it to an old man. But on it had fallen poison from +a serpent as it was carried through the air by a kite, so the old man +immediately withered and died. The king, on seeing this, exclaimed in +wrath:—</p> +<p>“Is not this bird attempting to kill me?” And he seized +the magpie and wrung off its head. Afterwards in the village the tree +had the name of the poisonous mango. Now, it happened that a washerman, +taking the part of his wife in a quarrel with his old mother, struck +the latter, who was so angry at her son that she resolved to die, in +order that the blame of her death should fall upon him; and having gone +to the poisonous mango-tree in the garden, she cut off a fruit and ate +it, when instantly she became more blooming than a girl of sixteen. +This miracle she published everywhere and it came to the king’s +ears, who, having called her and seen her, caused the fruit to be given +to other old people. Having seen what was thus done by the marvelous +virtue of the mango-fruit, the king sorrowfully exclaimed:—</p> +<p>“Alas, the faithful magpie is killed which gave me this divine +tree! How guilty am I!” And he pierced himself with his sword and +died.</p> +<p>“Therefore,” adds the story-teller, “those who act +without thought are certain to be ruined.” The old +Brahman’s generously presenting the king with the wonderful +mango-fruit in our story, finds its parallel with a difference, in the +Hindu romance entitled “Simhasana Dwatrinsatri,” or +Thirty-two Tales of a throne, where a Brahman having received from the +gods, as a reward for his devotional austerities, the fruit of +immortality, joyfully proceeds home and shows it to his wife, who +advises him to give it to the Raja <span class="corr" id="xd20e5096" +title="Source: Bhartrigari">Bhartrihari</span>, as the wealth he should +receive in return were preferable to an endless life of poverty. He +goes to the palace, and presenting the fruit to the Raja, acquaints him +of its nature, and is rewarded with a lakh of rupees. The Raja gives +the fruit to his wife, telling her that <span class="pagenum">[<a id= +"pb301" href="#pb301" name="pb301">301</a>]</span>if she ate it her +beauty would increase day by day, and she should be immortal. The Kani +gives it to her paramour, the chief of police, who, in his turn, +presents it as the choicest of gifts to a courtesan, who, after +reflecting that it would only enable her to commit innumerable sins, +resolves to offer it to the Raja, in hope of a reward in a future life. +When Raja Bhartrihari receives the fruit again he is astonished, and, +on learning from the <i>hætera</i> from whom she had obtained it, +he knew that his queen was unfaithful, and, abandoning his throne and +kingdom, departs into the jungle, where he became an ascetic. +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb302" href="#pb302" name= +"pb302">302</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="div2"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divHead"> +<h3 class="main">Notes to XIII.—The Fifth Part.</h3> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first"><i>The Poisoned Food.</i>—This is a third +instance of food or fruit being poisoned by serpents, and it occurs +very frequently in Eastern stories. The oldest form of this tale is +found in a Sanskrit collection entitled “Twenty-five Tales of a +Vampyre” (<i>Vetalapanchavimsati</i>), which is probably of +Buddhist extraction, and which also exists in many of the vernacular +languages of India. The wife of a man named Harisvamin having been +stolen from him one night by a Vidyadhara Prince, he gave away all his +wealth to the Brahmans, and resolved to visit the sacred waters to wash +away his sins, after which he hoped to recover his beloved wife; and +the story thus proceeds:—Then he left the country, with his +Brahman birth as his only fortune, and began to go round to all the +sacred bathing-places in order to recover his beloved. And as he was +roaming about there came upon him the terrible lion of the hot season, +with the blazing sun for mouth and with a mane composed of his fiery +rays. And the winds blew with excessive heat, as if warmed by the +breath of sighs furnaced forth by travellers grieved at being separated +from their wives. And the tanks, with their supply of water diminished +by the heat and their drying white mud, appeared to be showing their +broken hearts. And the trees by the roadside seemed to lament on +account of the departure of the glory of spring, making their wailing +heard in the shrill moaning of their bark, with leaves, as it were, +lips, parched with heat.</p> +<p>At that season Harisvamin, wearied out with the heat of the sun, +with bereavement, hunger and thirst, and continual travelling, +emaciated and dirty, and pining for food, reached in the course of his +wanderings a certain village, and <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb303" +href="#pb303" name="pb303">303</a>]</span>found in it the house of a +Brahman named Padmanabha, who was engaged in a sacrifice. And, seeing +that many Brahmans were eating in his house, he stood leaning against +the door-post, silent and motionless. And the good wife of that Brahman +named Padmanabha, seeing him in this position, felt pity for him, and +reflected:—</p> +<p>“Alas! mighty is hunger! Whom will it not bring down? For here +stands a man at the door, who appears to be a householder, desiring +food, with downcast countenance; evidently come from a long journey, +and with all his faculties impaired by hunger. So is not he a man to +whom food ought to be given?” Having gone through these +reflections, that kind woman took up in her hand a vessel full of rice +boiled in milk, with <i><span class="corr" id="xd20e5122" title= +"Source: ghi">ghî</span></i> and sugar, and brought it, and +courteously presented it to him, and said:—</p> +<p>“Go and eat this somewhere on the bank of the lake, for this +place is unfit to eat in, as it is filled with feasting +Brahmans.” He said “I will do so,” and took the +vessel of rice and placed it at no great distance under a banyan-tree +on the edge of the lake; and he washed his hands and feet in the lake, +and rinsed his mouth, and then came back in high spirits to eat the +rice. But while he was thus engaged a kite, holding a black cobra with +its beak and claws, came and sat on that tree. And it so happened that +poisonous saliva issued from the mouth of that dead snake, which the +bird had captured and was carrying along. The saliva fell into the dish +of rice which was placed under the tree, and Harisvamin, without +observing it, came and ate up that rice. As soon as in his hunger he +had devoured all that food, he began to suffer terrible agonies, caused +by the poison. He exclaimed:—</p> +<p>“When fate has turned against a man, everything in this world +turns also; accordingly this rice has become poison to me.” Thus +speaking, Harisvamin, tortured with the poison, tottered to the house +of that Brahman who was engaged in a sacrifice, and said to his +wife:—</p> +<p>“The rice which you gave me has poisoned me; so fetch me +quickly a charmer who can counteract the operation of poison; otherwise +you will be guilty of the death of a <span class="pagenum">[<a id= +"pb304" href="#pb304" name="pb304">304</a>]</span>Brahman.” When +Harisvamin had said this to the good woman, who was beside herself to +think what it could all mean, his eyes closed and he died.</p> +<p>Then the Brahman who was engaged in a sacrifice drove his wife out +of the house, though she was innocent and hospitable, being enraged +with her for the supposed murder of her guest. The good woman, for her +part, having incurred groundless blame from her charitable deed, and so +become burdened with infamy, went to a holy bathing-place, to perform +penance. Then there was a discussion before the superintendent of +religion as to which of the four parties, the kite, the snake, and the +couple who gave rice, was guilty of the murder of a Brahman; but the +question was not decided.</p> +<p>It will be seen that our story differs very considerably from the +foregoing, which we must regard as the original. The same story occurs +in all the Eastern versions of the Book of Sindibad, but in most of +these it is not a traveller who is thus poisoned, but a wealthy man and +his guests; having sent a domestic to the market to buy sour curds, +which she carried back in an open vessel, poison from a serpent in a +stork’s mouth dropped into the curds, of which the master of the +house and his guests partook and died. The story is probably more than +2,000 years old.</p> +<p>“<i>Eating up the Protector.</i>” Akin to this, but with +a very different conclusion, is the well-known story of the traveller +who released a tiger from a trap into which he had fallen. The +Brahman’s fidelity to his pact with the serpent reminds one of +the Arabian story of the Merchant and the Genie. In a Tamil tale, a cow +having given herself up to a tiger to redeem her owner (it is to be +understood, of course, that both animals are human beings re-born in +those forms) she obtains leave to go and suckle her calf, after which +she returns when the tiger, moved by her fidelity, lets her go +free.</p> +<p>The serpent’s emitting gems recalls Shakespeare’s +allusion to the popular notion of the “toad, ugly and venomous, +which bears a precious jewel in its head.” It is a very ancient +and widespread belief that serpents are the guardians of hidden +treasures. Preller, in his work on Grecian mythology, <span class= +"pagenum">[<a id="pb305" href="#pb305" name= +"pb305">305</a>]</span>refers to a Servian story in which a shepherd, +as in our tale, saves the life of a snake in a forest fire, and, in +return for this service, the snake’s father gives him endless +treasures and teaches him the language of birds. There is a very +similar story in Dozon’s “Contes Albanais.”</p> +<p>In the charming tale of “Nala and Damayanti,” which +occurs in the third part (“Vana Parva”) of the grand Indian +epic “Mahabharata,” the exiled king perceives a snake with +a ray of jewels in its crest, writhing in a jungle fire, and lifting it +out, carries it some distance, and is about to set it down, when the +snake says to him, “Carry me ten steps farther, and count them +aloud as you go.” So Nala proceeds, counting the steps—one, +two, three—and when he said “ten” (<i>dasa</i>, which +means “ten” and also “bite”) the snake took him +at his word, and bit the king in the forehead, upon which he became +black and deformed.</p> +<p>An abstract of a considerably modified form of our romance orally +current among the people of Bengal may be given in conclusion: A king +appoints his three sons to patrol in turn the streets of his capital +during the night. It happens that the youngest Prince in going his +rounds one night sees a beautiful woman issuing from the royal palace, +and accosting her, asks her business at such an hour. She +replies:—</p> +<p>“I am the guardian deity of this palace; the king will be +killed this night, therefore I am going away.”</p> +<p>The Prince persuades the goddess to return into the palace and await +the event. As in our story, he enters his father’s sleeping +chamber and discovers a huge cobra near the royal couch. He cuts the +serpent into many pieces, which he puts inside a brass vessel that is +in the room. Then seeing that some drops of the serpent’s blood +had fallen on his step-mother’s breast, he wraps a piece of cloth +round his tongue to protect it from the poison, and licks off the +blood. The lady awakes, and recognises him as he is leaving the room. +She accuses him to the king of having used an unpardonable freedom with +her. In the morning the king sends for his eldest son, and asks him: +“If a trusted servant should prove faithless how should he be +punished?” <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb306" href="#pb306" +name="pb306">306</a>]</span></p> +<p>Quoth the Prince: “Surely his head should be parted from his +body; but before doing so you should ascertain whether the man is +actually guilty.”</p> +<p>And then he proceeds to relate the following +story:—“Once upon a time there was a goldsmith who had a +grown-up son, whose wife was acquainted with the language of animals, +but she kept secret from her husband and all others the fact of her +being endowed with such a rare gift. It happened one night she heard a +jackal exclaim: ‘There is a dead body floating on the river; +would that some one might give me that body to eat, and for his pains +take the diamond ring from the finger of the dead man.’</p> +<p>“The woman arose from her bed and went to the bank of the +river, and her husband, who was not asleep, followed her unobserved. +She went into the water, drew the corpse to land, and unable to loosen +the ring from the dead man’s finger, which had swelled, she bit +off the finger, and leaving the corpse on the bank, returned home, +whither she had been preceded by her husband. Almost petrified with +fear, the young goldsmith concluded from what he had seen that his wife +was not a human being, but a ghoul (<i>rakshasi</i>), and early in the +morning he hastened to his father and related the whole affair to +him—how the woman had got up during the night and gone to the +river, out of which she dragged a dead body to the land, and was busy +devouring it when he ran home in horror.</p> +<p>“The old man was greatly shocked, and advised his son to take +his wife on some pretext into the forest and leave her there to be +destroyed by wild beasts. So the husband caused the woman to get +herself ready to go on a visit to her father, and after a hasty +breakfast they set out. In going through a dense jungle, where the +goldsmith proposed abandoning his wife, she heard a serpent cry, +‘O, passenger, I pray thee to seize and give me that croaking +frog, and take for thy reward the gold and precious stones concealed in +yonder hole.’ The woman at once seized the frog and threw it +towards the serpent, and then began digging into the ground with a +stick. Her husband quaked with fear, thinking that his ghoul-wife +<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb307" href="#pb307" name= +"pb307">307</a>]</span>was about to kill him, but she called to him, +saying, ‘My dear husband, gather up all this gold and precious +gems.’</p> +<p>“Approaching the spot with hesitation he was surprised to +perceive an immense treasure laid bare by his wife, who then explained +to him how she had learned of it from the snake that lay coiled up near +them, whose language she understood. Then he said to his +wife—’It is now so late that we cannot reach your +father’s house before dark, and we might be slain by wild beasts. +Let us therefore return home.’ So they retraced their steps, and +approaching the house the goldsmith said to his wife—’Do, +you, my dear, go in by the back door, while I enter by the front and +show my father all this treasure.’</p> +<p>The woman went in by the back door and was met by her father-in-law, +who, on seeing her, concluded that she had killed and devoured his son, +and striking her on the head with a hammer which he happened to have in +his hand, she instantly expired. Just then the son came into the room, +but it was too late.”</p> +<p>“I have told your Majesty this story,” adds the eldest +Prince, “in order that before putting the man to death you should +make sure that he is guilty.”</p> +<p>The king next calls his second son and asks him the same question, +to which he replies by relating a story to caution his father against +rash actions.</p> +<p>“A king, separated from his attendants while engaged in the +chase, saw what he conceived to be rain-water dropping from the top of +a tree, and, being very thirst, held his drinking cup under it until it +was nearly filled, and, just as he was about to put it to his lips, his +horse purposely moved so as to cause the contents to be spilled on the +ground, upon which the king in a rage drew his sword and killed the +faithful animal; but afterwards discovering that what he had taken for +rain-water was poison that dropped from a cobra in the tree, his grief +knew no bounds.”</p> +<p>Calling lastly his third son, the king asks him what should be done +to the man who proved false to his trust. The Prince tells the story of +the wonderful tree, the fruit of which <span class="pagenum">[<a id= +"pb308" href="#pb308" name="pb308">308</a>]</span>bestowed on him who +ate of it perennial youth, with unimportant variations from the version +in our romance.</p> +<p>Then the Prince explained the occasion of his presence in the Royal +bedchamber, and how he had saved the king and his consort from the +cobra’s deadly bite. And the king, overjoyed and full of +gratitude, strained his faithful son to his heart, and ever after +cherished and loved him with all a father’s love.</p> +</div> +</div> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id= +"xd20e4979" href="#xd20e4979src" name="xd20e4979">1</a></span> It is +not generally known that the “Birnam Wood” incident in +Shakespeare’s “Macbeth” occurs in the same Arabian +historical work.</p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="div1"><span class="pagenum">[<a href= +"#toc">Contents</a>]</span> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first"><span class="sc">T. Brettell & Co.</span>, +Printers, Rupert Street, London,—W.</p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="transcribernote"> +<h2 class="main">Colophon</h2> +<h3 class="main">Availability</h3> +<p class="first">This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no +cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give +it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License +included with this eBook or online at <a class="exlink" title= +"External link" href= +"https://www.gutenberg.org/">www.gutenberg.org</a>.</p> +<p>This eBook is produced by the Online Distributed Proofreading Team +at <a class="exlink" title="External link" href= +"https://www.pgdp.net/">www.pgdp.net</a>.</p> +<p>Scans for this work are available in the Internet Archive (Copy +<a class="exlink" title="External link" href= +"http://www.archive.org/details/talesofsunorfolk00kinguoft">1</a>, +<a class="exlink" title="External link" href= +"http://www.archive.org/details/talessunorfolkl00unkngoog">2</a>, +<a class="exlink" title="External link" href= +"http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924073798013">3</a>).</p> +<h3 class="main">Encoding</h3> +<p class="first"></p> +<h3 class="main">Revision History</h3> +<ul> +<li>2011-08-06 Started.</li> +</ul> +<h3 class="main">External References</h3> +<p>This Project Gutenberg eBook contains external references. These +links may not work for you.</p> +<h3 class="main">Corrections</h3> +<p>The following corrections have been applied to the text:</p> +<table width="75%" summary= +"Overview of corrections applied to the text."> +<tr> +<th>Page</th> +<th>Source</th> +<th>Correction</th> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e157">v</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd20e2904">180</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Pandit</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Paṇḍit</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e420">viii</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Chandralekhâ</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Chandralêkhâ</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e504">viii</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Brahmarâkshars</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Brahmarâkshas</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e583">4</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd20e2047">112</a>, +<a class="pageref" href="#xd20e3938">234</a>, <a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e4070">243</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd20e4943">288</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">[<i>Not in source</i>]</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">”</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e628">7</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">woman’s</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">woman</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e642">9</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd20e865">32</a>, +<a class="pageref" href="#xd20e2054">112</a>, <a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e2699">158</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd20e4018">240</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">,</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e680">12</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">bhógam</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">bhôgam</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e779">24</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd20e2303">130</a>, +<a class="pageref" href="#xd20e4796">278</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">[<i>Not in source</i>]</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e835">29</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd20e1021">39</a>, +<a class="pageref" href="#xd20e1261">60</a>, <a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e4530">265</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd20e4933">288</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">ghaṭikas</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">ghaṭikâs</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e840">29</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd20e4229">250</a>, +<a class="pageref" href="#xd20e4322">253</a>, <a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e4370">255</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd20e4404">257</a>, +<a class="pageref" href="#xd20e4519">265</a>, <a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e4523">265</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">ghaṭika</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">ghaṭikâ</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e880">32</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Ganapṭi</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Gaṇapati</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e897">33</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Ganésa</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Gaṇêśa</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e961">36</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">he</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">the</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e970">36</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">pipal</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">pîpal</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e984">37</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Vaṅjaimânagar</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Vañjaimânagar</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e1012">39</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Śankara</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Śaṅkara</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e1026">40</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom"> +Raṇavîrasiṇg’s</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom"> +Raṇavîrasiṅg’s</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e1102">47</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Saṅkarât</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Śaṅkarât</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e1106">47</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Saṅkara</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Śaṅkara</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e1167">52</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Inora</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Indra</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e1192">56</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">ghaṭikas’</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">ghaṭikâs’</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e1257">60</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Sivâchâr</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Śivâchâr</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e1301">62</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">were</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">where</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e1306">63</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">intenton</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">intention</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e1393">71</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">[<i>Not in source</i>]</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">the</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e1442">74</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">forrth</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">fourth</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e1459">77</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd20e1467">78</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">cooly</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">coolie</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e1548">85</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Suguna</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Suguṇa</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e1628">91</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Won’t-leave</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Won’t-Leave</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e1638">91</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Wont-Give</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Won’t-Give</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e1711">94</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd20e1889">100</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">kuta</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">kûta</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e1777">96</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">[<i>Not in source</i>]</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">-</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e1939">104</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">no</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">[<i>Deleted</i>]</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e1956">106</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">,</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">[<i>Deleted</i>]</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e2171">123</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd20e3354">199</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">ghatikâ</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">ghaṭikâ</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e2194">124</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">retured</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">returned</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e2386">136</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">”,</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">,”</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e2391">136</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Siva’s</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Śiva’s</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e2498">144</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">XIV</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">XIII</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e2505">144</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">youug</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">young</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e2508">144</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd20e2522">144</a>, +<a class="pageref" href="#xd20e2529">145</a>, <a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e2537">145</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd20e2543">145</a>, +<a class="pageref" href="#xd20e2552">145</a>, <a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e2562">146</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd20e2565">146</a>, +<a class="pageref" href="#xd20e2899">180</a>, <a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e2917">181</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd20e2924">181</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Kali</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Kâlî</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e2534">145</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">name</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">names</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e2573">147</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">ghâṭikas</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">ghaṭikâs</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e2578">147</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">ghatika</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">ghaṭikâ</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e2584">147</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Kali’s</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Kâlî’s</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e2600">149</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Hindus</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Hindûs</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e2607">149</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd20e5122">303</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">ghi</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">ghî</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e2611">149</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">dhal</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">dhâl</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e2765">166</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Brahman</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Brâhmaṇ</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e2778">168</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Mahesvara</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Mahêśvara</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e2811">171</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Kávéri</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Kâvêrî</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e2908">180</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Vedas</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Vêdas</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e2912">180</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Sastras</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Śâstras</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e2934">182</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd20e5015">294</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">grevious</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">grievous</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e3033">188</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd20e5045">296</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">;</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">:</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e3103">191</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">conquerred</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">conquered</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e3153">192</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">tadingana</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">tadingaṇa</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e3252">195</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">pûja</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">pûjâ</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e3378">199</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Brâhmin’s</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Brâhmiṇ’s</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e3451">205</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">panam</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">paṇam</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e3465">206</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Brâhmaṇi</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Brâhmaṇî</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e3532">210</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Siva</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Śiva</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e3535">210</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd20e3538">210</a>, +<a class="pageref" href="#xd20e3990">239</a>, <a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e4021">240</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd20e4024">240</a>, +<a class="pageref" href="#xd20e4056">242</a>, <a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e4059">242</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd20e4281">252</a>, +<a class="pageref" href="#xd20e4547">266</a>, <a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e4584">267</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Brâhmins</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Brâhmiṇs</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e3560">211</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd20e3580">212</a>, +<a class="pageref" href="#xd20e3585">212</a>, <a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e3613">214</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd20e4302">252</a>, +<a class="pageref" href="#xd20e4562">267</a>, <a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e4574">267</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd20e4578">267</a>, +<a class="pageref" href="#xd20e4594">268</a>, <a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e4613">269</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd20e4616">269</a>, +<a class="pageref" href="#xd20e4621">270</a>, <a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e4632">270</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd20e4641">270</a>, +<a class="pageref" href="#xd20e4659">271</a>, <a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e4665">271</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd20e4671">271</a>, +<a class="pageref" href="#xd20e4674">271</a>, <a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e4681">271</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd20e4691">272</a>, +<a class="pageref" href="#xd20e4814">280</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Brâhmin</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Brâhmiṇ</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e3619">214</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom"> +Chandralêkkâ’s</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom"> +Chandralêkhâ’s</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e3811">227</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom"> +Chandralêkâ’s</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom"> +Chandralêkhâ’s</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e3854">230</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Danḍakâranya</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Dandakâranya</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e3882">232</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd20e5042">296</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">[<i>Not in source</i>]</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">,</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e3894">232</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Gangâ</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Gaṅgâ</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e3897">232</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd20e3901">232</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Tungâ</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Tuṅga</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e3904">232</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Tungabhadrâ</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Tuṅgabhadrâ</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e3925">233</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Jñânadidhi</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Jñânanidhi</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e3972">238</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd20e4083">243</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Jṅânanidhi</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Jñânanidhi</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e3987">239</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">to morrow</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">to-morrow</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e4010">240</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">advise</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">advice</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e4015">240</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Kapâli’s</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Kapâlî’s</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e4034">240</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">lesat</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">least</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e4037">240</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">as</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">at</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e4086">243</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Kalyâni</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Kalyânî</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e4124">247</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">toow as</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">too was</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e4137">248</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd20e4142">248</a>, +<a class="pageref" href="#xd20e4195">249</a>, <a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e4312">253</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd20e4340">254</a>, +<a class="pageref" href="#xd20e4345">254</a>, <a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e4356">254</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Gundappa</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Gunḍappa</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e4202">250</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Nañjangôḍ</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom"> +Nañjaṅgôḍ</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e4225">250</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Nañjaṅgôd</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom"> +Nañjaṅgôḍ</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e4261">251</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">ghâṭika</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">ghaṭikâ</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e4272">252</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">chunam</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">chuṇam</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e4353">254</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Gundappa’s</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Gunḍappa’s</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e4550">266</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">invaribly</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">invariably</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e4718">273</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">wealthyl andlord</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">wealthy landlord</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e4738">274</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Tâmil</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Tamil̤</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e4823">281</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">too</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">to</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e4982">290</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">on on</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">on</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e5009">294</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">similiar</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">similar</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e5032">296</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">[<i>Not in source</i>]</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">‘</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e5035">296</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd20e5052">297</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">[<i>Not in source</i>]</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">’</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e5057">297</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">the ‘</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">‘the</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e5063">297</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Lyon</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Lion</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20" valign="top"><a class="pageref" href= +"#xd20e5096">300</a></td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Bhartrigari</td> +<td class="width40" valign="bottom">Bhartrihari</td> +</tr> +</table> +</div> +</div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Tales of the Sun, by +Mrs. Howard Kingscote and Pandit Natesa Sastri + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF THE SUN *** + +***** This file should be named 37002-h.htm or 37002-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/0/0/37002/ + +Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from scanned images of public domain material +from the 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