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Tales Of The Punjab

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'Perhaps it would make _my_ hair grow!' said the old woman
eagerly.

'Perhaps it would!' quoth cunning Bopolûchî.

So the old, ever so old mother put her head in the mortar, and
Bopolûchî pounded away with such a will that the old lady died.

Then Bopolûchî dressed the dead body in the scarlet bridal dress,
seated it on the low bridal chair, drew the veil well over the face,
and put the spinning-wheel in front of it, so that when the robber
came home he might think it was the bride. Then she put on the old
mother's clothes, and seizing her own bundle, stepped out of the house
as quickly as possible.

On her way home she met the robber, who was returning with a stolen
millstone, to grind the corn for the wedding feast, on his head. She
was dreadfully frightened, and slipped behind the hedge, so as not to
be seen. But the robber, not recognising her in the old mother's
dress, thought she was some strange woman from a neighbouring village,
and so to avoid being seen he slipped behind the other hedge. Thus
Bopolûchî reached home in safety.

Meanwhile, the robber, having come to his house, saw the figure in
bridal scarlet sitting on the bridal chair, spinning, and of course
thought it was Bopolûchî. So he called to her to help him down with
the millstone, but she didn't answer. He called again, but still she
didn't answer. Then he fell into a rage, and threw the millstone at
her head. The figure toppled over, and lo and behold! it was not
Bopolûchî at all, but his old, ever so old mother! Whereupon the
robber wept, and beat his breast, thinking he had killed her; but when
he discovered pretty Bopolûchî had run away, he became wild with rage,
and determined to bring her back somehow.

[Illustration: Bopolûchî and the robber]

Now Bopolûchî was convinced that the robber would try to carry her
off, so every night she begged a new lodging in some friend's house,
leaving her own little bed in her own little house quite empty, but
after a month or so she had come to the end of her friends, and did
not like to ask any of them to give her shelter a second time. So she
determined to brave it out and sleep at home, whatever happened; but
she took a bill-hook to bed with her. Sure enough, in the very middle
of the night four men crept in, and each seizing a leg of the bed,
lifted it up and walked off, the robber himself having hold of the leg
close behind her head. Bopolûchî was wide awake, but pretended to be
fast asleep, until she came to a wild deserted spot, where the thieves
were off their guard; then she whipped out the bill-hook, and in a
twinkling cut off the heads of the two thieves at the foot of the
bed. Turning round quickly, she did the same to the other thief at
the head, but the robber himself ran away in a terrible fright, and
scrambled like a wild cat up a tree close by before she could reach
him.

'Come down!' cried brave Bopolûchî, brandishing the bill-hook, 'and
fight it out!'

But the robber would not come down; so Bopolûchî gathered all the
sticks she could find, piled them round the tree, and set fire to
them. Of course the tree caught fire also, and the robber, half
stifled with the smoke, tried to jump down, and was killed.

After that, Bopolûchî went to the robber's house and carried off all
the gold and silver, jewels and clothes, that were hidden there,
coming back to the village so rich that she could marry any one she
pleased. And that was the end of Bopolûchî's adventures.




PRINCESS AUBERGINE


Once upon a time there lived a poor Brahman and his wife, so poor,
that often they did not know whither to turn for a meal, and were
reduced to wild herbs and roots for their dinner.

Now one day, as the Brahman was gathering such herbs as he could find
in the wilderness, he came upon an Aubergine, or egg-plant. Thinking
it might prove useful by and by, he dug it up, took it home, and
planted it by his cottage door. Every day he watered and tended it,
so that it grew wonderfully, and at last bore one large fruit as big
as a pear, purple and white and glossy,--such a handsome fruit, that
the good couple thought it a pity to pick it, and let it hang on the
plant day after day, until one fine morning when there was absolutely
nothing to eat in the house. Then the Brahman said to his wife, 'We
must eat the egg-fruit; go and cut it, and prepare it for dinner.'

So the Brahman's wife took a knife, and cut the beautiful purple and
white fruit off the plant, and as she did so she thought she heard a
low moan. But when she sat down and began to peel the egg-fruit, she
heard a tiny voice say quite distinctly, 'Take care!--oh, please take
care! Peel more gently, or I am sure the knife will run into me!'

The good woman was terribly perplexed, but went on peeling as gently
as she could, wondering all the time what had bewitched the egg-fruit,
until she had cut quite through the rind, when--what do you think
happened? Why, out stepped the most beautiful little maiden
imaginable, dressed in purple and white satin!

The poor Brahman and his wife were mightily astonished, but still more
delighted; for, having no children of their own, they looked on the
tiny maiden as a godsend, and determined to adopt her. So they took
the greatest care of her, petting and spoiling her, and always calling
her the Princess Aubergine; for, said the worthy couple, if she was
not a Princess _really_, she was dainty and delicate enough to be
any king's daughter.

Now not far from the Brahman's hut lived a King, who had a beautiful
wife, and seven stalwart young sons. One day, a slave-girl from the
palace, happening to pass by the Brahman's cottage, went in to ask for
a light, and there she saw the beautiful Aubergine. She went straight
home to the palace, and told her mistress how in a hovel close by
there lived a Princess so lovely and charming, that were the King once
to set eyes on her, he would straightway forget, not only his Queen,
but every other woman in the world.

Now the Queen, who was of a very jealous disposition, could not bear
the idea of any one being more beautiful than she was herself, so she
cast about in her mind how she could destroy the lovely Aubergine. If
she could only inveigle the girl into the palace, she could easily do
the rest, for she was a sorceress, and learned in all sorts of magic.
So she sent a message to the Princess Aubergine, to say that the fame
of her great beauty had reached the palace, and the Queen would like
to see with her own eyes if report said true.

Now lovely Aubergine was vain of her beauty, and fell into the trap.
She went to the palace, and the Queen, pretending to be wonderstruck,
said, 'You were born to live in kings' houses! From this time you
must never leave me; henceforth you are my sister.'

This flattered Princess Aubergine's vanity, so, nothing loath, she
remained in the palace, and exchanged veils with the Queen, and drank
milk out of the same cup with her, as is the custom when two people
say they will be sisters.

But the Queen, from the very first moment she set eyes on her, had
seen that Princess Aubergine was no human being, but a fairy, and knew
she must be very careful how she set about her magic. Therefore she
laid strong spells upon her while she slept, and said--

'Beautiful Aubergine! tell me true--
In what thing does your life lie?'

And the Princess answered--'In the life of your eldest son. Kill him,
and I will die also.'

So the very next morning the wicked Queen went to where her eldest son
lay sleeping, and killed him with her own hands. Then she sent the
slave-girl to the Princess's apartments, hoping to hear she was dead
too, but the girl returned saying the Princess was alive and well.

Then the Queen wept tears of rage, for she knew her spells had not
been strong enough, and she had killed her son for naught.
Nevertheless, the next night she laid stronger spells upon the
Princess Aubergine, saying--

'Princess Aubergine! tell me true--
In what thing does your life lie?'

And the sleeping Princess answered--'In the life of your second son.
Kill him, and I too will die.'

So the wicked Queen killed her second son with her own hands, but when
she sent the slave-girl to see whether Aubergine was dead also, the
girl returned again saying the Princess was alive and well.

Then the sorceress-queen cried with rage and spite, for she had killed
her second son for naught. Nevertheless, she would not give up her
wicked project, and the next night laid still stronger spells on the
sleeping Princess, asking her--

'Princess Aubergine! tell me true--
In what thing does your life lie?'

And the Princess replied--'In the life of your third son. Kill him,
and I must die also!'

But the same thing happened. Though the young Prince was killed by
his wicked mother, Aubergine remained alive and well; and so it went
on day after day, until all the seven young Princes were slain, and
their cruel mother still wept tears of rage and spite, at having
killed her seven sons for naught.

Then the sorceress-queen summoned up all her art, and laid such strong
spells on the Princess Aubergine that she could no longer resist them,
and was obliged to answer truly; so when the wicked Queen asked--

'Princess Aubergine! tell me true--
In what thing does your life lie?'

the poor Princess was obliged to answer--'In a river far away there
lives a red and green fish. Inside the fish there is a bumble bee,
inside the bee a tiny box, and inside the box is the wonderful
nine-lakh necklace. Put it on, and I shall die.'

Then the Queen was satisfied, and set about finding the red and green
fish. Therefore, when her husband the King came to see her, she began
to sob and to cry, until he asked her what was the matter. Then she
told him she had set her heart on procuring the wonderful nine-lakh
necklace.

'But where is it to be found?' asked the King.

And the Queen answered in the words of the Princess Aubergine,--'In a
river far away there lives a red and green fish. Inside the fish
there is a bumble bee, inside the bee a tiny box, and in the box is
the nine-lakh necklace.'

Now the King was a very kind man, and had grieved sincerely for the
loss of his seven young sons, who, the Queen said, had died suddenly
of an infectious disease. Seeing his wife so distressed, and being
anxious to comfort her, he gave orders that every fisherman in his
kingdom was to fish all day until the red and green fish was found.
So all the fishermen set to work, and ere long the Queen's desire was
fulfilled--the red and green fish was caught, and when the wicked
sorceress opened it, there was the bumble bee, and inside the bee was
the box, and inside the box the wonderful nine-lakh necklace, which
the Queen put on at once.

Now no sooner had the Princess Aubergine been forced to tell the
secret of her life by the Queen's magic, than she knew she must die;
so she returned sadly to her foster-parents' hut, and telling them of
her approaching death, begged them neither to burn nor bury her body.
'This is what I wish you to do,' she said; 'dress me in my finest
clothes, lay me on my bed, scatter flowers over me, and carry me to
the wildest wilderness. There you must place the bed on the ground,
and build a high mud wall around it, so that no one will be able to
see over.'

The poor foster-parents, weeping bitterly, promised to do as she
wished; so when the Princess died (which happened at the very moment
the wicked Queen put on the nine-lakh necklace), they dressed her in
her best clothes, scattered flowers over the bed, and carried her out
to the wildest wilderness.

Now when the Queen sent the slave-girl to the Brâhman's hut to inquire
if the Princess Aubergine was really dead, the girl returned saying,
'She is dead, but neither burnt nor buried; she lies out in the
wilderness to the north, covered with flowers, as beautiful as the
moon!'

The Queen was not satisfied with this reply, but as she could do no
more, had to be content.

Now the King grieved bitterly for his seven young sons, and to try to
forget his grief he went out hunting every day; so the Queen, who
feared lest in his wanderings he might find the dead Princess
Aubergine, made him promise never to hunt towards the north, for, she
said, 'some evil will surely befall you it you do.'

But one day, having hunted to the east, and the south, and the west,
without finding game, he forgot his promise, and hunted towards the
north. In his wanderings he lost his way, and came upon a high
enclosure, with no door; being curious to know what it contained, he
climbed over the wall. He could scarcely believe his eyes when he saw
a lovely Princess lying on a flower-strewn bed, looking as if she had
just fallen asleep. It seemed impossible she could be dead, so,
kneeling down beside her, he spent the whole day praying and
beseeching her to open her eyes. At nightfall he returned to his
palace, but with the dawning he took his bow, and, dismissing all his
attendants on the pretext of hunting alone, flew to his beautiful
Princess. So he passed day after day, kneeling distractedly beside
the lovely Aubergine, beseeching her to rise; but she never stirred.

Now at the end of a year he, one day, found the most beautiful little
boy imaginable lying beside the Princess. He was greatly astonished,
but taking the child in his arms, cared for it tenderly all day, and
at night laid it down beside its dead mother. After some time the
child learnt to talk, and when the King asked it if its mother was
always dead, it replied, 'No! at night she is alive, and cares for me
as you do during the day.'

Hearing this, the King bade the boy ask his mother what made her die,
and the next day the boy replied, 'My mother says it is the nine-lakh
necklace your Queen wears. At night, when the Queen takes it off, my
mother becomes alive again, but every morning, when the Queen puts it
on, my mother dies.'

This greatly puzzled the King, who could not imagine what his Queen
could have to do with the mysterious Princess, so he told the boy to
ask his mother whose son he was.

The next morning the boy replied, 'Mother bade me say I am your son,
sent to console you for the loss of the seven fair sons your wicked
Queen murdered out of jealousy of my mother, the lovely Princess
Aubergine.'

Then the King grew very wroth at the thought of his dead sons, and
bade the boy ask his mother how the wicked Queen was to be punished,
and by what means the necklace could be recovered.

The next morning the boy replied, 'Mother says I am the only person
who can recover the necklace, so to-night, when you return to the
palace, you are to take me with you.' So the King carried the boy
back to the palace, and told all his ministers and courtiers that the
child was his heir. On this, the sorceress-queen, thinking of her own
dead sons, became mad with jealousy, and determined to poison the
boy. To this end she prepared some tempting sweetmeats, and,
caressing the child, gave him a handful, bidding him eat them; but the
child refused, saying he would not do so until she gave him the
glittering necklace she wore round her throat, to play with.

Determined to poison the boy, and seeing no other way of inducing him
to eat the sweetmeats, the sorceress-queen slipped off the nine-lakh
necklace, and gave it to the child. No sooner had he touched it than
he fled away so fast that none of the servants or guards could stop
him, and never drew breath till he reached the place where the
beautiful Princess Aubergine lay dead. He threw the necklace over her
head, and immediately she rose up lovelier than ever. Then the King
came, and besought her to return to the palace as his bride, but she
replied, 'I will never be your wife till that wicked sorceress is
dead, for she would only murder me and my boy, as she murdered your
seven young sons. If you will dig a deep ditch at the threshold of
the palace, fill it with scorpions and snakes, throw the wicked Queen
into it, and bury her alive, I will walk over her grave to be your
wife.'

So the King ordered a deep ditch to be dug, and had it filled with
scorpions and snakes. Then he went to the sorceress-queen, and bade
her come to see something very wonderful. But she refused, suspecting
a trick. Then the guards seized her, bound her, flung her into the
ditch amongst the scorpions and snakes, and buried her alive with
them. As for the Princess Aubergine, she and her son walked over the
grave, and lived happily in the palace ever after.




VALIANT VICKY, THE BRAVE WEAVER


Once upon a time there lived a little weaver, by name Victor Prince,
but because his head was big, his legs thin, and he was altogether
small, and weak, and ridiculous, his neighbours called him Vicky--
Little Vicky the Weaver.

But despite his size, his thin legs, and his ridiculous appearance,
Vicky was very valiant, and loved to _talk_ for hours of his
bravery, and the heroic acts he would perform if Fate gave him an
opportunity. Only Fate did not, and in consequence Vicky remained
little Vicky the valiant weaver, who was laughed at by all for his
boasting.

Now one day, as Vicky was sitting at his loom, weaving, a mosquito
settled on his left hand just as he was throwing the shuttle from his
right hand, and by chance, after gliding swiftly through the warp, the
shuttle came flying into his left hand on the very spot where the
mosquito had settled, and squashed it. Seeing this, Vicky became
desperately excited: 'It is as I have always said,' he cried; 'if I
only had the chance I knew I could show my mettle! Now, I'd like to
know how many people could have done that? Killing a mosquito is
easy, and throwing a shuttle is easy, but to do both at one time is a
mighty different affair! It is easy enough to shoot a great hulking
man--there is something to see, something to aim at; then guns and
crossbows are made for shooting; but to shoot a _mosquito_ with a
_shuttle_ is quite another thing. That requires a man!'

The more he thought over the matter, the more elated he became over
his skill and bravery, until he determined that he would no longer
suffer himself to be called 'Vicky.' No! now that he had shown his
mettle he would be called 'Victor'--'Victor Prince'--or better still,
'Prince Victor'; that was a name worthy his merits. But when he
announced this determination to the neighbours, they roared with
laughter, and though some did call him Prince Victor, it was with such
sniggering and giggling and mock reverence that the little man flew
home in a rage. Here he met with no better reception, for his wife, a
fine handsome young woman, who was tired to death by her ridiculous
little husband's whims and fancies, sharply bade him hold his tongue
and not make a fool of himself. Upon this, beside himself with pride
and mortification, he seized her by the hair, and beat her most
unmercifully. Then, resolving to stay no longer in a town where his
merits were unrecognised, he bade her prepare some bread for a
journey, and set about packing his bundle.

'I will go into the world!' he said to himself. 'The man who can
shoot a mosquito dead with a shuttle ought not to hide his light under
a bushel' So off he set, with his bundle, his shuttle, and a loaf of
bread tied up in a kerchief.

Now as he journeyed he came to a city where a dreadful elephant came
daily to make a meal off the inhabitants. Many mighty warriors had
gone against it, but none had returned. On hearing this the valiant
little weaver thought to himself, 'Now is my chance! A great haystack
of an elephant will be a fine mark to a man who has shot a mosquito
with a shuttle!' So he went to the King, and announced that he
proposed single-handed to meet and slay the elephant. At first the
King thought the little man was mad, but as he persisted in his words,
he told him that he was free to try his luck if he chose to run the
risk; adding that many better men than he had failed.

Nevertheless, our brave weaver was nothing daunted; he even refused to
take either sword or bow, but strutted out to meet the elephant armed
only with his shuttle.

'It is a weapon I thoroughly understand, good people,' he replied
boastfully to those who urged him to choose some more deadly arm, 'and
it has done its work in its time, I can tell you!'

It was a beautiful sight to see little Vicky swaggering out to meet
his enemy, while the townsfolk flocked to the walls to witness the
fight. Never was such a valiant weaver till the elephant, descrying
its tiny antagonist, trumpeted fiercely, and charged right at him, and
then, alas! all the little man's courage disappeared, and forgetting
his new name of Prince Victor he dropped his bundle, his shuttle, and
his bread, and bolted away as fast as Vicky's legs could carry him.

Now it so happened that his wife had made the bread ever so sweet, and
had put all sorts of tasty spices in it, because she wanted to hide
the flavour of the poison she had put in it also; for she was a
wicked, revengeful woman, who wanted to be rid of her tiresome,
whimsical little husband. And so, as the elephant charged past, it
smelt the delicious spices, and catching up the bread with its long
trunk, gobbled it up without stopping an instant. Meanwhile fear lent
speed to Vicky's short legs, but though he ran like a hare, the
elephant soon overtook him. In vain he doubled and doubled, and the
beast's hot breath was on him, when in sheer desperation he turned,
hoping to bolt through the enormous creature's legs; being half blind
with fear, however, he ran full tilt against them instead. Now, as
luck would have it, at that very moment the poison took effect, and
the elephant fell to the ground stone dead.

When the spectators saw the monster fall they could scarcely believe
their eyes, but their astonishment was greater still when, running up
to the scene of action, they found Valiant Vicky seated in triumph on
the elephant's head, calmly mopping his face with his handkerchief.

'I had to pretend to run away,' he explained, 'or the coward would
never have engaged me. Then I gave him a little push, and he fell
down, as you see. Elephants are big beasts, but they have no strength
to speak of.'

The good folks were amazed at the careless way in which Valiant Vicky
spoke of his achievement, and as they had been too far off to see very
distinctly what had occurred, they went and told the King that the
little weaver was just a feaiful wee man, and had knocked over the
elephant like a ninepin. Ihen the King said to himself, 'None of my
warriors and wrestlers, no, not even the heroes of old, could have
done this. I must secure this little man's services if I can.' So he
asked Vicky why he was wandering about the world.

[Illustration: Vicky descending from the dead elephant]

'For pleasure, for service, or for conquest!' returned Valiant Vicky,
laying such stress on the last word that the King, in a great hurry,
made him Commander-in-Chief of his whole army, for fear he should take
service elsewhere.

So there was Valiant Vicky a mighty fine warrior, and as proud as a
peacock of having fulfilled his own predictions.

'I knew it!' he would say to himself when he was dressed out in full
fig, with shining armour and waving plumes, and spears, swords, and
shields; 'I _felt_ I had it in me!'

Now after some time a terribly savage tiger came ravaging the country,
and at last the city-folk petitioned that the mighty Prince Victor
might be sent out to destroy it. So out he went at the head of his
army,--for he was a great man now, and had quite forgotten all about
looms and shuttles. But first he made the King promise his daughter
in marriage as a reward. 'Nothing for nothing!' said the astute
little weaver to himself, and when the promise was given he went out
as gay as a lark.

'Do not distress yourselves, good people,' he said to those who
flocked round him praying for his successful return; 'it is ridiculous
to suppose the tiger will have a chance. Why, I knocked over an
elephant with my little finger! I am really invincible! *'

But, alas for our Valiant Vicky! No sooner did he see the tiger
lashing its tail and charging down on him, than he ran for the nearest
tree, and scrambled into the branches. There he sat like a monkey,
while the tiger glowered at him from below. Of course when the army
saw their Commander-in-Chief bolt like a mouse, they followed his
example, and never stopped until they reached the city, where they
spread the news that the little hero had fled up a tree.

'There let him stay!' said the King, secretly relieved, for he was
jealous of the little weaver's prowess, and did not want him for a
son-in-law.

Meanwhile, Valiant Vicky sat cowering in the tree, while the tiger
occupied itself below with sharpening its teeth and claws, and curling
its whiskers, till poor Vicky nearly tumbled into its jaws with
fright. So one day, two days, three days, six days passed by; on the
seventh the tiger was fiercer, hungrier, and more watchful than ever.
As for the poor little weaver, he was so hungry that his hunger made
him brave, and he determined to try and slip past his enemy during its
mid-day snooze. He crept stealthily down inch by inch, till his foot
was within a yard of the ground, and then? Why then the tiger, which
had had one eye open all the time, jumped up with a roar!

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