A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P R S T U V W X Z

Tales Of The Punjab

F >> Flora Annie Steel >> Tales Of The Punjab




So, being jealous, he sent for a bird-catcher, who snared the poor
swans with lime, and put them in a cage.

Then Karan hung the cage in the palace, and ordered his servants to
bring every kind of birds' food; but the proud swans only curved their
white necks in scorn, saying, 'Glory to Bikramâjît!--he gave us pearls
to eat!'

Then King Karan, determined not to be outdone, sent for pearls; but
still the scornful swans would not touch anything.

'Why will ye not eat?' quoth King Karan wrathfully; 'am I not as
generous as Bikramâjît?'

Then the swan's wife answered, and said, 'Kings do not imprison the
innocent. Kings do not war against women. If Bikramâjît were here,
he would at any rate let me go!'

So Karan, not to be outdone in generosity, let the swan's wife go, and
she spread her broad white wings and flew southwards to Bikramâjît,
and told him how her husband lay a prisoner at the court of King
Karan.

Of course Bikramâjît, who was, as every one knows, the most generous
of kings, determined to* release the poor captive; and bidding the
swan fly back and rejoin her mate, he put on the garb of a servant,
and taking the name of Bikrû, journeyed northwards till he came to
King Karan's kingdom. Then he took service with the King, and helped
every day to carry out the baskets of golden pieces. He soon saw
there was some secret in King Karan's endless wealth, and never rested
until he had found it out. So, one day, hidden close by, he saw King
Karan enter the _faqîr's_ house and pop into the boiling oil. He
saw him frizzle and sizzle, he saw him come out crisp and brown, he
saw the hungry and holy _faqîr_ pick the bones, and, finally, he
saw King Karan, fat and jolly as ever, go down the mountain side with
his hundredweight of gold!

Then Bikrû knew what to do! So the very next day he rose very early,
and taking a carving-knife, he slashed himself all over. Next he took
some pepper and salt, spices, pounded pomegranate seeds, and
pea-flour; these he mixed together into a beautiful curry-stuff, and
rubbed himself all over with it--right into the cuts in spite of the
smarting. When he thought he was quite ready for cooking, he just
went up the hill to the _faqîr_'s house, and popped into the
frying-pan. The _faqîr_ was still asleep, but he soon awoke with
the sizzling and the fizzling, and said to himself, 'Dear me! how
uncommonly nice the King smells this morning!'

Indeed, so appetising was the smell, that he could hardly wait until
the King was crisp and brown, but then--oh, my goodness! how he
gobbled him up!

You see, he had been eating plain fried so long that a devilled king
was quite a change. He picked the bones ever so clean, and it is my
belief would have eaten them too, if he had not been afraid of killing
the goose that laid the golden eggs.

Then, when it was all over, he put the King together again, and said,
with tears in his eyes, 'What a breakfast that was, to be sure! Tell
me how you managed to taste so nice, and I'll give you anything you
ask.'

Whereupon Bikrû told him the way it was done, and promised to devil
himself every morning, if he might have the old coat in return.
'For,' said he, 'it is not pleasant to be fried! and I don't see why I
should in addition have the trouble of carrying a hundredweight of
gold to the palace every day. Now, if _I_ keep the coat, I can
shake it down there.'

To this the _faqîr_ agreed, and off went Bikrû with the coat.

Meanwhile, King Karan came toiling up the hill, and was surprised,
when he entered the _faqîr_'s house, to find the fire out, the
frying-pan put away, and the _faqîr_ himself as holy as ever, but
not in the least hungry.

'Why, what is the matter?' faltered the King.

'Who are you?' asked the _faqîr_, who, to begin with, was
somewhat short-sighted, and in addition felt drowsy after his heavy
meal.

'Who! Why, I'm King Karan, come to be fried! Don't you want your
breakfast?'

'I've had my breakfast!' sighed the _faqîr_ regretfully. 'You
tasted very nice when you were devilled, I can assure you!'

'I never was devilled in my life!' shouted the King; 'you must have
eaten somebody else!'

'That's just what I was saying to myself!' returned the _faqîr_
sleepily; 'I thought--it couldn't--be only--the spices--that---
'---Snore, snore, snore!

'Look here!' cried King Karan, in a rage, shaking the
_faqîr_,'you must eat me too!'

'Couldn't!' nodded the holy but satisfied _faqîr_, 'really--not
another morsel--no, thanks!'

'Then give me my gold!' shrieked King Karan; 'you're bound to do that,
for I'm ready to fulfil my part of the contract!'

'Sorry I can't oblige, but the devil--I mean the other person--went
off with the coat!' nodded the _faqîr_.

Hearing this, King Karan returned home in despair and ordered the
royal treasurer to send him gold; so that day he ate his breakfast in
peace.

And the next day also, by ransacking all the private treasuries, a
hundredweight of gold was forthcoming; so King Karan ate his breakfast
as usual, though his heart was gloomy.

But the third day, the royal treasurer arrived with empty hands, and,
casting himself on the ground, exclaimed, 'May it please your majesty!
there is not any more gold in your majesty's domains!'

Then King Karan went solemnly to bed, without any breakfast, and the
crowd, after waiting for hours expecting to see the palace doors open
and the servants come out with the baskets of gold, melted away,
saying it was a great shame to deceive poor folk in that way!

By dinner-time poor King Karan was visibly thinner; but he was a man
of his word, and though the wily Bikrû came and tried to persuade him
to eat, by saying he could not possibly be blamed, he shook his head,
and turned his face to the wall.

Then Bikrû, or Bikramâjît, took the _faqîr's_ old coat, and
shaking it before the King, said, 'Take the money, my friend; and what
is more, if you will set the wild swans you have in that cage at
liberty, I will give you the coat into the bargain!'

So King Karan set the wild swans at liberty, and as the pair of them
flew away to the great Mansarobar Lake, they sang as they went, 'Glory
to Bikramâjît! the generous Bikramâjît!'

Then King Karan hung his head, and said to himself, 'The swans' song
is true!--Bikramâjît is more generous than I; for if I was fried for
the sake of a hundredweight of gold and my breakfast, he was devilled
in order to set a bird at liberty!'




PRINCE HALF-A-SON


Once upon a time there was a King who had no children, and this
disappointment preyed so dreadfully upon his mind that he chose the
dirtiest and most broken-down old bed he could find, and lay down on
it in the beautiful palace gardens. There he lay, amid the flowers
and the fruit trees, the butterflies and the birds, quite regardless
of the beauties around him;--that was his way of showing grief.

Now, as he lay thus, a holy _faqîr_ passed through the garden,
and seeing the King in this pitiful plight, asked him what the sorrow
was which drove him to such a very dirty old bed.

'What is the use of asking?' returned the King; but when the
_faqîr_ asked for the third time what the sorrow was, the King
took heart of grace, and answered gloomily, 'I have no children!'

'Is that all?' said the _faqîr_; 'that is easily remedied. Here!
take this stick of mine, and throw it twice into yonder mango tree.
At the first throw five mangoes will fall, at the second two. So many
sons you shall have, if you give each of your seven Queens a mango
apiece.'

Then the King, greatly delighted, took the _faqîr's_ stick and
went off to the mango tree. Sure enough, at the first throw five
mangoes fell, at the second, two. Still the King was not satisfied,
and, determining to make the most of the opportunity, he threw the
stick into the tree a third time, hoping to get more children But, to
his surprise and consternation, the stick remained in the tree, and
the seven fallen mangoes flew back to their places, where they hung
temptingly just out of reach.

[Illustration: The king and the faqîr]

There was nothing to be done but to go back to the _faqîr_, and
tell him what had happened.

'That comes of being greedy!' retorted the _faqîr_; 'surely seven
sons are enough for anybody, and yet you were not content! However, I
will give you one more chance. Go back to the tree; you will find the
stick upon the ground; throw it as I bade you, and beware of
disobedience, for if you do not heed me this time, you may lie on your
dirty old bed till doomsday for all I care!'

Then the King returned to the mango tree, and when the seven mangoes
had fallen--the first time five, the second time two--he carried them
straight into the palace, and gave them to his Queens, so as to be out
of the way of temptation.

Now, as luck would have it, the youngest Queen was not in the house,
so the King put her mango away in a tiny cupboard in the wall, against
her return, and while it lay there a greedy little mouse came and
nibbled away one half of it. Shortly afterwards, the seventh Queen
came in, and seeing the other Queens just wiping their mouths, asked
them what they had been eating.

'The King gave us each a mango,' they replied, 'and he put yours in
the cupboard yonder.'

But, lo! when the youngest Queen ran in haste to find her mango, half
of it was gone; nevertheless she ate the remaining half with great
relish.

Now the result of this was, that when, some months afterwards, the six
elder Queens each bore a son, the youngest Queen had only
half-a-son--and that was what they called him at once,--just
half-a-son, nothing more: he had one eye, one ear, one arm, one leg;
in fact, looked at sideways, he was as handsome a young prince as you
would wish to see, but frontways it was as plain as a pikestaff that
he was only half-a-prince. Still he throve and grew strong, so that
when his brothers went out shooting he begged to be allowed to go out
also.

'How can _you_ go a-shooting?' wept his mother, who did nothing
but fret because her son was but half-a-son; 'you are only half-a-boy;
how can you hold your crossbow?'

'Then let me go and play at shooting,' replied
the prince, nothing daunted. 'Only give me some sweets to take with
me, dear mother, as the other boys have, and I shall get on well
enough.'

[Illustration: The youngest queen and her half-a-son]

'How can I make sweets for half-a-son?' wept his mother; 'go and ask
the other Queens to give you some,'

So he asked the other Queens, and they, to make fun of the poor lad,
who was the butt of the palace, gave him sweets full of ashes.

Then the six whole princes, and little Half-a-son, set off a-shooting,
and when they grew tired and hungry, they sat down to eat the sweets
they had brought with them. Now when Prince Half-a-son put his into
his half-a-mouth, lo and behold! though they were sweet enough
outside, there was nothing but ashes and grit inside. He was a
simple-hearted young prince, and imagining it must be a mistake, he
went to his brothers and asked for some of theirs; but they jeered and
laughed at him.

By and by they came to a field of melons, so carefully fenced in with
thorns that only one tiny gap remained in one corner, and that was too
small for any one to creep through, except half-a-boy; so while the
six whole princes remained outside, little Half-a-son was feasting on
the delicious melons inside, and though they begged and prayed him to
throw a few over the hedge, he only laughed, saying, 'Remember the
sweets!--it is my turn now!'

When they became very importunate, he threw over a few of the unripe
and sour melons; whereupon his brothers became so enraged that they
ran to the owner of the field and told him that half-a-boy was making
sad havoc amongst his fruit. Then they watched him catch poor Prince
Half-a-son, who of course could not run very fast, and tie him to a
tree, after which they went away laughing.

But Prince Half-a-son had some compensation for being only half-a-boy,
in that he possessed the magical power of making a rope do anything he
bade it. Therefore, when he saw his brothers leaving him in the
lurch, he called out, 'Break, rope, break! my companions have gone
on,' and the rope obeyed at once, leaving him free to join his
brothers.

By and by they came to a plum tree, where the fruit grew far out on
slender branches that would only bear the weight of half-a-boy.

'Throw us down some!' cried the whole brothers, as they saw Half-a-son
with his half-mouth full.

'Remember the sweets!' retorted the prince.

This made his brothers so angry that they ran off to the owner of the
tree, and telling him how half-a-boy was feasting on his plums,
watched while he caught the offender and tied him to the tree. Then
they ran away laughing; but Prince Half-a-son called out, 'Break,
rope, break! my companions have gone on,' and before they had gone out
of sight he rejoined his brothers, who could not understand how this
miserable half-a-boy outwitted them.

Being determined to be revenged on him, they waited until he began to
draw water from a well, where they stopped to drink, and then they
pushed him in.

'That is an end of little Half-a-son!' they said to themselves, and
ran away laughing.

Now in the well there lived a one-eyed demon, a pigeon, and a serpent,
and when it was dark these three returned home and began to talk
amongst themselves, while Prince Half-a-son, who clung to the wall
like a limpet, and took up no room at all, listened and held his
breath.

'What is your power, my friend?' asked the demon of the serpent.
Whereupon the serpent replied, 'I have the treasures of seven kings
underneath me! What is yours, my friend?'

Then the demon said conceitedly, 'The King's daughter is possessed of
me. She is always ill; some day I shall kill her.'

'Ah!' said the pigeon, 'I could cure her, for no matter what the
disease is, any one who eats my droppings will become well instantly.'

When dawn came, the demon, the serpent, and the pigeon each went off
to his own haunt without noticing Prince Half-a-son.

Soon afterwards, a camel-driver came to draw water from the well, and
let down the bucket; whereupon Prince Half-a-son caught hold of the
rope and held on.

The camel-driver, feeling a heavy weight, looked down to see what it
was, and when he beheld half-a-boy clinging to the rope he was so
frightened that he ran clean away. But all Half-a-son had to do was
to say, 'Pull, rope, pull!' and the rope wound itself up immediately.

No sooner had he reached the surface once more than he set off to the
neighbouring city, and proclaimed that he was a physician come to heal
the King's daughter of her dreadful disease.

'Have a care! have a care!' cried the watchmen at the gate. 'If you
fail, your head will be the forfeit. Many men have tried, and what
can _you_ do that are but half-a-man?'

Nevertheless, Prince Half-a-son, who had some of the pigeon's
droppings in his pocket, was not in the least afraid, but boldly
proclaimed he was ready to accept the terms; that is to say, if he
failed to cure the princess his head was to be cut off, but if he
succeeded, then her hand in marriage and half the kingdom should be
his reward.

'Half the kingdom will just suit me,' he said,' seeing that I am but
half-a-man!'

And, sure enough, no sooner had the princess taken her first dose,
than she immediately became quite well--her cheeks grew rosy, her eyes
bright; and the King was so delighted that he gave immediate orders
for the marriage. Now amongst the wedding guests were Prince
Half-a-son's wicked brothers, who were ready to die of spite and envy
when they discovered that the happy bridegroom was none other than
their despised half-a-boy. So they went to the King, and said, 'We
know this lad: he is a sweeper's son, and quite unfit to be the
husband of so charming a princess!'

The king at first believed this wicked story, and ordered the poor
prince to be turned out of the kingdom; but Half-a-son asked for a
train of mules, and one day's respite, in order to prove who and what
he was. Then he went to the well, dug up the treasures of seven kings
during the serpent's absence, loaded the mules, and came back
glittering with gold and jewels. He laid the treasures at the King's
feet, and told the whole story,--how, through no fault of his own, he
was only half-a-son, and how unkindly his brothers had behaved to him.

Then the marriage festivities went on, and the wicked brothers crept
away in disgrace.

They went to the well, full of envy and covetousness. 'Half-a-son got
rich by falling in,' they said; 'let us try if we too cannot find some
treasure,' So they threw themselves into the well.

As soon as it was dark, the demon, the serpent, and the pigeon came
home together. 'Some thief has been here!' cried the pigeon, 'for my
droppings are gone! Let us feel round, and see if he is here still.'

So they felt round, and when they came upon the six brothers, the
demon ate them up one after another.

So that was an end of them, and Prince Half-a-son had the best of it,
in spite of his only being half-a-boy.




THE MOTHER AND DAUGHTER WHO WORSHIPPED THE SUN


Once upon a time there lived a mother and a daughter who worshipped
the Sun. Though they were very poor they never forgot to honour the
Sun, giving everything they earned to it except two meal cakes, one of
which the mother ate, while the other was the daughter's share, every
day one cake apiece; that was all.

Now it so happened that one day, when the mother was out at work, the
daughter grew hungry, and ate her cake before dinner-time. Just as
she had finished it a priest came by, and begged for some bread, but
there was none in the house save the mother's cake. So the daughter
broke off half of it and gave it to the priest in the name of the Sun.

By and by the mother returned, very hungry, to dinner, and, lo and
behold! there was only half a cake in the house.

'Where is the remainder of the bread?' she asked.

'I ate my share, because I was hungry,' said the daughter, 'and just
as I finished, a priest came a-begging, so I was obliged to give him
half your cake.'

'A pretty story!' quoth the mother, in a rage. 'It is easy to be
pious with other people's property! How am I to know you had eaten
your cake first? I believe you gave mine in order to save your own!'

In vain the daughter protested that she really had finished her cake
before the priest came a-begging,--in vain she promised to give the
mother half her share on the morrow,--in vain she pleaded for
forgiveness for the sake of the Sun, in whose honour she had given
alms. Words were of no avail; the mother sternly bade her go about
her business, saying, 'I will have no gluttons, who grudge their own
meal to the great Sun, in my house!'

So the daughter wandered away homeless into the wilds, sobbing
bitterly. When she had travelled a long long way, she became so tired
that she could walk no longer; therefore she climbed into a big
_pîpal_ tree, in order to be secure from wild beasts, and rested
amongst the branches.

After a time a handsome young prince, who had been chasing deer in the
forest, came to the big _pîpal_ tree, and, allured by its
tempting shade, lay down to sleep away his fatigues. Now, as he lay
there, with his face turned to the sky, he looked so beautiful that
the daughter could not choose but keep her eyes upon him, and so the
tears which flowed from them like a summer shower dropped soft and
warm upon the young man's face, waking him with a start. Thinking it
was raining, he rose to look at the sky, and see whence this sudden
storm had come; but far and near not a cloud was to be seen. Still,
when he returned to his place, the drops fell faster than before, and
one of them upon his lip tasted salt as tears. So he swung himself
into the tree, to see whence the salt rain came, and, lo and behold! a
beauteous maiden sat in the tree, weeping.

'Whence come you, fair stranger?' said he; and she, with tears, told
him she was homeless, houseless, motherless. Then he fell in love
with her sweet face and soft words; so he asked her to be his bride,
and she went with him to the palace, her heart full of gratitude to
the Sun, who had sent her such good luck.

Everything she could desire was hers; only when the other women talked
of their homes and their mothers she held her tongue, for she was
ashamed of hers.

Every one thought she must be some great princess, she was so lovely
and magnificent, but in her heart of hearts she knew she was nothing
of the kind; so every day she prayed to the Sun that her mother might
not find her out.

But one day, when she was sitting alone in her beautiful palace, her
mother appeared, ragged and poor as ever. She had heard of her
daughter's good fortune, and had come to share it.

'And you _shall_ share it,' pleaded her daughter; 'I will give
you back far more than I ever took from you, if only you will go away
and not disgrace me before my prince.'

'Ungrateful creature!' stormed the mother, 'do you forget how it was
through my act that your good fortune came to you? If I had not sent
you into the world, where would you have found so fine a husband?'

'I might have starved!' wept the daughter; 'and now you come to
destroy me again. O great Sun, help me now!'

Just then the prince came to the door, and the poor daughter was ready
to die of shame and vexation; but when she turned to where her mother
had sat, there was nothing to be seen but a golden stool, the like of
which had never been seen on earth before.

'My princess,' asked the prince, astonished, 'whence comes that golden
stool?'

'From my mother's house,' replied the daughter, full of gratitude to
the great Sun, who had saved her from disgrace.

'Nay! if there are such wondrous things to be seen in your mother's
house,' quoth the prince gaily, 'I must needs go and see it.
To-morrow we will set out on our journey, and you shall show me all it
contains.'

In vain the daughter put forward one pretext and another: the
prince's curiosity had been aroused by the sight of the marvellous
golden stool, and he was not to be gainsaid.

Then the daughter cried once more to the Sun, in her distress, saying,
'O gracious Sun, help me now!'

But no answer came, and with a heavy heart she set out next day to
show the prince her mother's house. A goodly procession they made,
with horsemen and footmen clothed in royal liveries surrounding the
bride's palanquin, where sat the daughter, her heart sinking at every
step.

And when they came within sight of where her mother's hut used to
stand, lo! on the horizon showed a shining, flaming golden palace,
that glittered and glanced like solid sunshine. Within and without
all was gold,--golden servants and a golden mother!

There they stopped, admiring the countless marvels of the Sun palace,
for three days, and when the third was completed, the prince, more
enamoured of his bride than ever, set his face homewards; but when he
came to the spot where he had first seen the glittering golden palace
from afar, he thought he would just take one look more at the wondrous
sight, and, lo! there was nothing to be seen save a low thatched
hovel!

Then he turned to his bride, full of wrath, and said, 'You are a
witch, and have deceived me by your detestable arts! Confess, if you
would not have me strike you dead!'

But the daughter fell on her knees, saying, 'My gracious prince, I
have done nothing! I am but a poor homeless girl. It was the Sun
that did it.'

Then she told the whole story from beginning to end, and the prince
was so well satisfied that from that day he too worshipped the Sun.




THE RUBY PRINCE


Once upon a time a poor Brâhman was walking along a dusty road, when
he saw something sparkling on the ground. On picking it up, it turned
out to be a small red stone, so, thinking it somewhat curious, the
Brâhman put it into his pocket and went on his way. By and by he came
to a corn-merchant's shop, at the side of the road, and being hungry
he bethought himself of the red stone, and taking it out, offered it
to the corn-dealer in exchange for a bite and sup, as he had no money
in his pocket.

Now, for a wonder, the shopkeeper was an honest man, so, after looking
at the stone, he bade the Brâhman take it to the king, for, said he,
'all the goods in my shop are not its equal in value!'

Then the Brâhman carried the stone to the king's palace, and asked to
be shown into his presence. But the prime minister refused at first
to admit him; nevertheless, when the Brâhman persisted that he had
something beyond price to show, he was allowed to see the king.

Now the snake-stone was just like a ruby, red and fiery; therefore,
when the king saw it he said, 'What dost thou want for this ruby, O
Brâhman?'

Then the Brâhman replied, 'Only a pound of meal to make a girdle cake,
for I am hungry!'

'Nay,' said the king, 'it is worth more than that!'

So he sent for a _lâkh_ of rupees from his treasury, and counted
it over to the Brâhman, who went on his way rejoicing.

Copyright (c) 2007. famouswriterz.com. All rights reserved.