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Tales Of The Punjab

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'Make me your pupil,' quoth Rasâlu, 'and I will wait too.'

'You work miracles already, my son,' said the Jôgi; 'so where is the
use of your becoming one of us?'

Nevertheless, Raja Rasâlu would not be denied, so the Jôgi bored his
ears and put in the sacred earrings. Then the new disciple put aside
his shining armour, and sat by the fire in a Jôgi's loin-cloth,
waiting to see Queen Sundrân.

Then, at night, the old Jôgi went and begged alms from four houses,
and half of what he got he gave to Rasâlu and half he ate himself.
Now Raja Rasâlu, being a very holy man, and a hero besides, did not
care for food, and was well content with his half share, but the Jôgi
felt starved.

The next day the same thing happened, and still Rasâlu sat by the fire
waiting to see the beautiful Queen Sundrân.

Then the Jôgi lost patience, and said, 'O my disciple, I made you a
pupil in order that you might beg, and feed me, and behold, it is I
who have to starve to feed you!'

'You gave no orders!' quoth Rasâlu, laughing. 'How can a disciple beg
without his master's leave?'

'I order you now!' returned the Jôgi. 'Go and beg enough for you and
for me.'

So Raja Rasâlu rose up, and stood at the gate of Queen Sundrân's
palace, in his Jôgi's dress, and sang,

'_Alakh!_ at thy threshold I stand,
Drawn from far by the name of thy charms;
Fair Sundrân, with generous hand,
Give the earring-decked Jôgi an alms!'

Now when Queen Sundrân, from within, heard Rasâlu's voice, its
sweetness pierced her heart, so that she immediately sent out alms by
the hand of her maid-servant. But when the maiden came to the gate,
and saw the exceeding beauty of Rasâlu, standing outside, fair in face
and form, she fainted away, dropping the alms upon the ground.

Then once more Rasâlu sang, and again his voice fell sweetly on Queen
Sundrân's ears, so that she sent out more alms by the hand of another
maiden. But she also fainted away at the sight of Rasâlu's marvellous
beauty.

Then Queen Sundrân rose, and came forth herself, fair and stately.
She chid the maidens, gathered up the broken alms, and setting the
food aside, filled the plate with jewels and put it herself into
Rasâlu's hands, saying proudly--

'Since when have the earrings been thine?
Since when wert thou made a _faqîr_?
What arrow from Love's bow has struck thee?
What seekest thou here?
Do you beg of all women you see,
Or only, fair Jôgi, of me?'

And Rasâlu, in his Jôgi's habit, bent his head towards her, saying
softly--

'A day since the earrings were mine,
A day since I turned a _faqîr_;
But yesterday Love's arrow struck me;
I seek nothing here!
I beg nought of others I see,
But only, fair Sundrân, of thee!'

Now, when Rasâlu returned to his master with the plate full of jewels,
the old Jôgi was sorely astonished, and bade him take them back, and
ask for food instead. So Rasâlu returned to the gate, and sang--

'_Alakh!_ at thy threshold I stand,
Drawn from far by the fame of thy charms;
Fair Sundrân, with generous hand,
Give the earring-decked beggar an alms!'

Then Queen Sundrân rose up, proud and beautiful, and coming to the
gate, said softly--

'No beggar thou! The quiver of thy mouth
Is set with pearly shafts; its bow is red
As rubies rare. Though ashes hide thy youth,
Thine eyes, thy colour, herald it instead!
Deceive me not--pretend no false desire--
But ask the secret alms thou dost require.'

But Rasâlu smiled a scornful smile, saying--

'Fair Queen! what though the quiver of my mouth
Be set with glistening pearls and rubies red?
I trade not jewels, east, west, north, or south;
Take back thy gems, and give me food instead.
Thy gifts are rich and rare, but costly charms
Scarce find fit placing in a Jôgi's alms!'

Then Queen Sundrân took back the jewels, and bade the beautiful Jôgi
wait an hour till the food was cooked. Nevertheless, she learnt no
more of him, for he sat by the gate and said never a word. Only when
Queen Sundrân gave him a plate piled up with sweets, and looked at him
sadly, saying--

'What King's son art thou? and whence dost thou come?
What name hast thou, Jôgi, and where is thy home?'

then Raja Rasâlu, taking the alms, replied--

'I am fair Lona's son; my father's name
Great Sâlbâhan, who reigns at Sialkot.
I am Rasâlu; for thy beauty's fame
These ashes, and the Jôgi's begging note,
To see if thou wert fair as all men say;
Lo! I have seen it, and I go my way!'

Then Rasâlu returned to his master with the sweets, and after that he
went away from the place, for he feared lest the Queen, knowing who he
was, might try to keep him prisoner.

And beautiful Sundrân waited for the Jôgi's cry, and when none came,
she went forth, proud and stately, to ask the old Jôgi whither his
pupil had gone.

Now he, vexed that she should come forth to ask for a stranger, when
he had sat at her gates for two-and-twenty years with never a word or
sign, answered back, 'My pupil? I was hungry, and I ate him, because
he did not bring me alms enough.'

'Oh, monster!' cried Queen Sundrân. 'Did I not send thee jewels and
sweets? Did not these satisfy thee, that thou must feast on beauty
also?'

'I know not,' quoth the Jôgi; 'only this I know--I put the youth on a
spit, roasted him, and ate him up. He tasted well!'

'Then roast and eat me too!' cried poor Queen Sundrân; and with the
words she threw herself into the sacred fire and became _sati_
for the love of the beautiful Jôgi Rasâlu.

And he, going thence, thought not of her, but fancying he would like
to be king a while, he snatched the throne from Raja Hari Chand, and
reigned in his stead.




HOW RAJA RASÂLU JOURNEYED TO THE CITY OF KING SARKAP


Now, after he had reigned a while in Hodinagari, Rasâlu gave up his
kingdom, and started off to play _chaupur_ with King Sarkap. And
as he journeyed there came a fierce storm of thunder and lightning, so
that he sought shelter, and found none save an old graveyard, where a
headless corpse lay upon the ground. So lonesome was it that even the
corpse seemed company, and Rasâlu, sitting down beside it, said--

'There is no one here, nor far nor near,
Save this breathless corpse so cold and grim;
Would God he might come to life again,
'Twould be less lonely to talk to him.'

And immediately the headless corpse arose and sat beside Raja Rasâlu.
And he, nothing astonished, said to it--

'The storm beats fierce and loud,
The clouds rise thick in the west;
What ails thy grave and thy shroud,
O corpse, that thou canst not rest?'

Then the headless corpse replied--

'On earth I was even as thou,
My turban awry like a king,
My head with the highest, I trow,
Having my fun and my fling,
Fighting my foes like a brave,
Living my life with a swing.
And, now I am dead,
Sins, heavy as lead,
Will give me no rest in my grave!'

So the night passed on, dark and dreary, while Rasâlu sat in the
graveyard and talked to the headless corpse. Now when morning broke
and Rasâlu said he must continue his journey, the headless corpse
asked him whither he was going; and when he said. 'to play
_chaupur_ with King Sarkap,' the corpse begged him to give up the
idea, saying, 'I am King Sarkap's brother, and I know his ways. Every
day, before breakfast, he cuts off the heads of two or three men, just
to amuse himself. One day no one else was at hand, so he cut off
mine, and he will surely cut off yours on some pretence or another.
However, if you are determined to go and play _chaupur_ with him,
take some of the bones from this graveyard, and make your dice out of
them, and then the enchanted dice with which my brother plays will
lose their virtue. Otherwise he will always win.'

So Rasâlu took some of the bones lying about, and fashioned them into
dice, and these he put into his pocket. Then, bidding adieu to the
headless corpse, he went on his way to play _chaupur_ with the
King.




HOW RAJA RASÂLU SWUNG THE SEVENTY FAIR MAIDENS, DAUGHTERS OF THE KING


Now, as Raja Rasâlu, tender-hearted and strong, journeyed along to
play _chaupur_ with the King, he came to a burning forest, and a
voice rose from the fire saying, 'O traveller, for God's sake save me
from the fire!'

Then the Prince turned towards the burning forest, and, lo! the voice
was the voice of a tiny cricket. Nevertheless, Rasâlu, tender-hearted
and strong, snatched it from the fire and set it at liberty. Then the
little creature, full of gratitude, pulled out one of its feelers, and
giving it to its preserver, said, 'Keep this, and should you ever be
in trouble, put it into the fire, and instantly I will come to your
aid.'

The Prince smiled, saying, 'What help could _you_ give
_me_?' Nevertheless, he kept the hair and went on his way.

Now, when he reached the city of King Sarkap, seventy maidens,
daughters of the King, came out to meet him--seventy fair maidens,
merry and careless, full of smiles and laughter; but one, the youngest
of them all, when she saw the gallant young Prince riding on Bhaunr
Irâqi, going gaily to his doom, was filled with pity, and called to
him, saying--

'Fair Prince, on the charger so gray,
Turn thee back! turn thee back!
Or lower thy lance for the fray;
Thy head will be forfeit to-day!
Dost love life? then, stranger, I pray,
Turn thee back! turn thee back!'

But he, smiling at the maiden, answered lightly--

'Fair maiden, I come from afar,
Sworn conqueror in love and in war!
King Sarkap my coming will rue,
His head in four pieces I'll hew;
Then forth as a bridegroom I'll ride,
With you, little maid, as my bride!'

Now when Rasâlu replied so gallantly, the maiden looked in his face,
and seeing how fair he was, and how brave and strong, she straightway
fell in love with him, and would gladly have followed him through the
world.

But the other sixty-nine maidens, being jealous, laughed scornfully at
her, saying, 'Not so fast, O gallant warrior! If you would marry our
sister you must first do our bidding, for you will be our younger
brother.'

'Fair sisters!' quoth Rasâlu gaily, 'give me my task and I will
perform it.'

So the sixty-nine maidens mixed a hundredweight of millet seed with a
hundredweight of sand, and giving it to Rasâlu, bade him separate the
seed from the sand.

Then he bethought him of the cricket, and drawing the feeler from his
pocket, thrust it into the fire. And immediately there was a whirring
noise in the air, and a great flight of crickets alighted beside him,
and among them the cricket whose life he had saved.

Then Rasâlu said, 'Separate the millet seed from the sand.'

'Is that all?' quoth the cricket; 'had I known how small a job you
wanted me to do, I would not have assembled so many of my brethren.'

With that the flight of crickets set to work, and in one night they
separated the seed from the sand.

Now when the sixty-nine fair maidens, daughters of the King, saw that
Rasâlu had performed his task, they set him another, bidding him swing
them all, one by one, in their swings, until they were tired.

Whereupon he laughed, saying, 'There are seventy of you, counting my
little bride yonder, and I am not going to spend my life in swinging
girls; yet, by the time I have given each of you a swing, the first
will be wanting another! No! if you want to swing, get in, all
seventy of you, into one swing, and then I will see what I can
compass.'

So the seventy maidens, merry and careless, full of smiles and
laughter, climbed into the one swing, and Raja Rasâlu, standing in his
shining armour, fastened the ropes to his mighty bow, and drew it up
to its fullest bent. Then he let go, and like an arrow the swing shot
into the air, with its burden of seventy fair maidens, merry and
careless, full of smiles and laughter.

But as it swung back again, Rasâlu, standing there in his shining
armour, drew his sharp sword and severed the ropes. Then the seventy
fair maidens fell to the ground headlong; and some were bruised and
some broken, but the only one who escaped unhurt was the maiden who
loved Rasâlu, for she fell out last, on the top of the others, and so
came to no harm.

After this, Rasâlu strode on fifteen paces, till he came to the
seventy drums, that every one who came to play _chaupur_ with the
King had to beat in turn; and he beat them so loudly that he broke
them all. Then he came to the seventy gongs, all in a row, and he
hammered them so hard that they cracked to pieces.

Seeing this, the youngest Princess, who was the only one who could
run, fled to her father the King in a great fright, saying--

'A mighty Prince, Sarkap! making havoc, rides along,
He swung us, seventy maidens fair, and threw us out headlong;
He broke the drums you placed there and the gongs too in his pride,
Sure, he will kill thee, father mine, and take me for his bride!'

But King Sarkap replied scornfully--

'Silly maiden, thy words make a lot
Of a very small matter;
For fear of my valour, I wot,
His armour will clatter.
As soon as I've eaten my bread
I'll go forth and cut off his head!'

Notwithstanding these brave and boastful words, he was in reality very
much afraid, having heard of Rasâlu's renown. And learning that he
was stopping at the house of an old woman in the city, till the hour
for playing _chaupur_ arrived, Sarkap sent slaves to him with
trays of sweetmeats and fruit, as to an honoured guest. But the food
was poisoned.

Now when the slaves brought the trays to Raja Rasâlu, he rose up
haughtily, saying, 'Go, tell your master I have nought to do with him
in friendship. I am his sworn enemy, and I eat not of his salt!'

So saying, he threw the sweetmeats to Raja Sarkap's dog, which had
followed the slaves, and lo! the dog died.

Then Rasâlu was very wroth, and said bitterly, 'Go back to Sarkap,
slaves! and tell him that Rasâlu deems it no act of bravery to kill
even an enemy by treachery.'




HOW RAJA RASÂLU PLAYED CHAUPUR WITH KING SARKAP


Now, when evening came, Raja Rasâlu went forth to play _chaupur_
with King Sarkap, and as he passed some potters' kilns he saw a cat
wandering about restlessly; so he asked what ailed her that she never
stood still, and she replied, 'My kittens are in an unbaked pot in the
kiln yonder. It has just been set alight, and my children will be
baked alive; therefore I cannot rest!'

Her words moved the heart of Raja Rasâlu, and, going to the potter, he
asked him to sell the kiln as it was; but the potter replied that he
could not settle a fair price till the pots were burnt, as he could
not tell how many would come out whole. Nevertheless, after some
bargaining, he consented at last to sell the kiln, and Rasâlu, having
searched through all the pots, restored the kittens to their mother,
and she, in gratitude for his mercy, gave him one of them, saying,
'Put it in your pocket, for it will help you when you are in
difficulties.'

So Raja Rasâlu put the kitten in his pocket, and went to play
_chaupur_ with the King.

Now, before they sat down to play, Raja Sarkap fixed his stakes. On
the first game, his kingdom; on the second, the wealth of the whole
world; and on the third, his own head. So, likewise, Raja Rasâlu
fixed his stakes. On the first game, his arms; on the second, his
horse; and on the third, his own head.

Then they began to play, and it fell to Rasâlu's lot to make the first
move. Now he, forgetful of the dead man's warning, played with the
dice given him by Raja Sarkap; then, in addition, Sarkap let loose his
famous rat, Dhol Raja, and it ran about the board, upsetting the
_chaupur_ pieces on the sly, so that Rasâlu lost the first game,
and gave up his shining armour.

So the second game began, and once more Dhol Raja, the rat, upset the
pieces; and Rasâlu, losing the game, gave up his faithful steed. Then
Bhaunr Irâqi, who stood by, found voice, and cried to his master--

'I am born of the sea and of gold;
Dear Prince! trust me now as of old.
I'll carry you far from these wiles--
My flight, all unspurr'd, will be swift as a bird,
For thousands and thousands of miles!
Or if needs you must stay; ere the next game you play,
Place hand in your pocket, I pray!'

Hearing this, Raja Sarkap frowned, and bade his slaves remove Bhaunr
Irâqi, since he gave his master advice in the game. Now when the
slaves came to lead the faithful steed away, Rasâlu could not refrain
from tears, thinking over the long years during which Bhaunr Irâqi had
been his companion. But the horse cried out again--

'Weep not, dear Prince! I shall not eat my bread
Of stranger hands, nor to strange stall be led.
Take thy right hand, and place it as I said.'

These words roused some recollection in Rasâlu's mind, and when, just
at this moment, the kitten in his pocket began to struggle, he
remembered the warning which the corpse had given him about the dice
made from dead men's bones. Then his heart rose up once more, and he
called boldly to Raja Sarkap, 'Leave my horse and arms here for the
present. Time enough to take them away when you have won my head!'

Now, Raja Sarkap, seeing Rasâlu's confident bearing, began to be
afraid, and ordered all the women of his palace to come forth in their
gayest attire and stand before Rasâlu, so as to distract his attention
from the game. But he never even looked at them; and drawing the dice
from his pocket, said to Sarkap, 'We have played with your dice all
this time; now we will play with mine.'

Then the kitten went and sat at the window through which the rat Dhol
Raja used to come, and the game began.

After a while, Sarkap, seeing Raja Rasâlu was winning, called to his
rat, but when Dhol Raja saw the kitten he was afraid, and would not go
farther. So Rasâlu won, and took back his arms. Next he played for
his horse, and once more Raja Sarkap called for his rat; but Dhol
Raja, seeing the kitten keeping watch, was afraid. So Rasâlu won the
second stake, and took back Bhaunr Irâqi.

Then Sarkap brought all his skill to bear on the third and last game,
saying--

'O moulded pieces, favour me to-day!
For sooth this is a man with whom I play.
No paltry risk--but life and death at stake;
As Sarkap does, so do, for Sarkap's sake!'

But Rasâlu answered back--

'O moulded pieces, favour me to-day!
For sooth it is a man with whom I play.
No paltry risk--but life and death at stake;
As Heaven does, so do, for Heaven's sake!'

So they began to play, whilst the women stood round in a circle, and
the kitten watched Dhol Raja from the window. Then Sarkap lost, first
his kingdom, then the wealth of the whole world, and lastly his head.

Just then, a servant came in to announce the birth of a daughter to
Raja Sarkap, and he, overcome by misfortunes, said, 'Kill her at once!
for she has been born in an evil moment, and has brought her father
ill luck!'

But Rasâlu rose up in his shining armour, tenderhearted and strong,
saying, 'Not so, O king! She has done no evil. Give me this child to
wife; and if you will vow, by all you hold sacred, never again to play
_chaupur_ for another's head, I will spare yours now!'

Then Sarkap vowed a solemn vow never to play for another's head; and
after that he took a fresh mango branch, and the new-born babe, and
placing them on a golden dish, gave them to the Prince.

Now, as Rasâlu left the palace, carrying with him the new-born babe
and the mango branch, he met a band of prisoners, and they called out
to him--

'A royal hawk art thou, O King! the rest
But timid wild-fowl. Grant us our request--
Unloose these chains, and live for ever blest!'

And Raja Rasâlu hearkened to them, and bade
King Sarkap set them at liberty.

Then he went to the Murti Hills, and placed the new-born babe,
Kokilan, in an underground palace, and planted the mango branch at the
door, saying, 'In twelve years the mango tree will blossom; then will
I return and marry Kokilan.'

And after twelve years, the mango tree began to flower, and Raja
Rasâlu married the Princess Kokilan, whom he won from Sarkap when he
played _chaupur_ with the King.




THE KING WHO WAS FRIED


Once upon a time, a very long time ago indeed, there lived a King who
had made a vow never to eat bread or break his fast until he had given
away a hundredweight of gold in charity.

So, every day, before King Karan--for that was his name--had his
breakfast, the palace servants would come out with baskets and baskets
of gold pieces to scatter amongst the crowds of poor folk, who, you
may be sure, never forgot to be there to receive the alms.

How they used to hustle and bustle and struggle and scramble! Then,
when the last golden piece had been fought for, King Karan would sit
down to his breakfast, and enjoy it as a man who has kept his word
should do.

Now, when people saw the King lavishing his gold in this fashion, they
naturally thought that sooner or later the royal treasuries must give
out, the gold come to an end, and the King--who was evidently a man of
his word--die of starvation. But, though months and years passed by,
every day, just a quarter of an hour before breakfast-time, the
servants came out of the palace with baskets and baskets of gold; and
as the crowds dispersed they could see the King sitting down to his
breakfast in the royal banqueting hall, as jolly, and fat, and hungry,
as could be.

Now, of course, there was some secret in all this, and this secret I
shall now tell you. King Karan had made a compact with a holy and
very hungry old _faqîr_ who lived at the top of the hill; and the
compact was this: on condition of King Karan allowing himself to be
fried and eaten for breakfast every day, the _faqîr_ gave him a
hundredweight of pure gold.

Of course, had the _faqîr_ been an ordinary sort of person, the
compact would not have lasted long, for once King Karan had been fried
and eaten, there would have been an end of the matter. But the
_faqîr_ was a very remarkable _faqîr_ indeed, and when he
had eaten the King, and picked the bones quite quite clean, he just
put them together, said a charm or two, and, hey presto! there was
King Karan as fat and jolly as ever, ready for the next morning's
breakfast. In fact, the _faqîr_ made _no bones at all_ over
the affair, which, it must be confessed, was very convenient both for
the breakfast and the breakfast eater. Nevertheless, it was of course
not pleasant to be popped alive every morning into a great frying-pan
of boiling oil; and for my part I think King Karan earned his
hundredweight of gold handsomely. But after a time he got accustomed
to the process, and would go up quite cheerfully to the holy and
hungry one's house, where the biggest frying-pan was spitting and
sputtering over the sacred fire. Then he would just pass the time of
day to the _faqîr_ to make sure he was punctual, and step
gracefully into his hot oil bath. My goodness! how he sizzled and
fizzled! When he was crisp and brown, the _faqîr_ ate him,
picked the bones, set them together, sang a charm, and finished the
business by bringing out his dirty, old ragged coat, which he shook
and shook, while the bright golden pieces came tumbling out of the
pockets on to the floor.

So that was the way King Karan got his gold, and if you think it very
extraordinary, so do I!

Now, in the great Mansarobar Lake, where, as of course you know, all
the wild swans live when they leave us, and feed upon seed pearls,
there was a great famine. Pearls were so scarce that one pair of
swans determined to go out into the world and seek for food. So they
flew into King Bikramâjît's garden, at Ujjayin. Now, when the
gardener saw the beautiful birds, he was delighted, and, hoping to
induce them to stay, he threw them grain to eat. But they would not
touch it, nor any other food he offered them; so he went to his
master, and told him there were a pair of swans in the garden who
refused to eat anything.

Then King Bikramâjît went out, and asked them in birds' language (for,
as every one knows, Bikramâjît understood both beasts and birds) why
it was that they ate nothing.

'We don't eat grain!' said they, 'nor fruit, nor anything but fresh
unpierced pearls!'

Whereupon King Bikramâjît, being very kind-hearted, sent for a basket
of pearls; and every day, when he came into the garden, he fed the
swans with his own hand.

But one day, when he was feeding them as usual, one of the pearls
happened to be pierced. The dainty swans found it out at once, and
coming to the conclusion that King Bikramâjît's supply of pearls was
running short, they made up their minds to go farther afield. So,
despite his entreaties, they spread their broad white wings, and flew
up into the blue sky, their outstretched necks pointing straight
towards home on the great Mansarobar Lake. Yet they were not
ungrateful, for as they flew they sang the praises of Bikramâjît.

Now, King Karan was watching his servants bring out the baskets of
gold, when the wild swans came flying over his head; and when he heard
them singing, 'Glory to Bikramâjît! Glory to Bikramâjît!' he said to
himself, 'Who is this whom even the birds praise? I let myself be
fried and eaten every day in order that I may be able to give away a
hundredweight of gold in charity, yet no swan sings _my_ song!'

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