The Charmed Ring « Result #1 on Mar 2, 2009, 5:06am »
A merchant started his son in life with three hundred rupees, and bade him go to another country and try his luck in trade. The son took the money and departed. He had not gone far before he came across some herdsmen quarrelling over a dog, that some of them wished to kill. "Please do not kill the dog," pleaded the young and tender-hearted fellow; "I will give you one hundred rupees for it." Then and there, of course, the bargain was concluded, and the foolish fellow took the dog, and continued his journey. He next met with some people fighting about a cat. Some of them wanted to kill it, but others not. "Oh! please do not kill it," said he; "I will give you one hundred rupees for it." Of course they at once gave him the cat and took the money.<./p>
He went on till he reached a village, where some folk were quarrelling over a snake that had just been caught. Some of them wished to kill it, but others did not. "Please do not kill the snake," said he; "I will give you one hundred rupees." Of course the people agreed, and were highly delighted.
What a fool the fellow was! What would he do now that all his money was gone? What could he do except return to his father? Accordingly he went home.
"You fool! You scamp!" exclaimed his father when he had heard how his son had wasted all the money that had been given to him. "Go and live in the stables and repent of your folly. You shall never again enter my house."
So the young man went and lived in the stables. His bed was the grass spread for the cattle, and his companions were the dog, the cat, and the snake, which he had purchased so dearly. These creatures got very fond of him, and would follow him about during the day, and sleep by him at night; the cat used to sleep at his feet, the dog at his head, and the snake over his body, with its head hanging on one side and its tail on the other.
One day the snake in course of conversation said to its master, "I am the son of Raja Indrasha. One day, when I had come out of the ground to drink the air, some people seized me, and would have slain me had you not most opportunely arrived to my rescue. I do not know how I shall ever be able to repay you for your great kindness to me. Would that you knew my father! How glad he would be to see his son's preserver!"
"Where does he live? I should like to see him, if possible," said the young man.
"Well said!" continued the snake. "Do you see yonder mountain? At the bottom of that mountain there is a sacred spring. If you will come with me and dive into that spring, we shall both reach my father's country. Oh! how glad he will be to see you! He will wish to reward you, too. But how can he do that? However, you may be pleased to accept something at his hand. If he asks you what you would like, you would, perhaps, do well to reply, 'The ring on your right hand, and the famous pot and sthingy which you possess.' With these in your possession, you would never need anything, for the ring is such that a man has only to speak to it, and immediately a beautiful furnished mansion will be provided for him, while the pot and the sthingy will supply him with all manner of the rarest and most delicious foods."
Attended by his three companions the man walked to the well and prepared to jump in, according to the snake's directions. "O master!" exclaimed the cat and dog, when they saw what he was going to do. "What shall we do? Where shall we go?"
"Wait for me here," he replied. "I am not going far. I shall not be long away." On saying this, he dived into the water and was lost to sight.
"Now what shall we do?" said the dog to the cat. "We must remain here," replied the cat, "as our master ordered. Do not be anxious about food. I will go to the people's houses and get plenty of food for both of us." And so the cat did, and they both lived very comfortably till their master came again and joined them.
The young man and the snake reached their destination in safety; and information of their arrival was sent to the Raja. His highness commanded his son and the stranger to appear before him. But the snake refused, saying that it could not go to its father till it was released from this stranger, who had saved it from a most terrible death, and whose slave it therefore was. Then the Raja went and embraced his son, and saluting the stranger welcomed him to his dominions. The young man stayed there a few days, during which he received the Raja's right-hand ring, and the pot and sthingy, in recognition of His Highness's gratitude to him for having delivered his son. He then returned. On reaching the top of the spring he found his friends, the dog and the cat, waiting for him. They told one another all they had experienced since they had last seen each other, and were all very glad. Afterwards they walked together to the river side, where it was decided to try the powers of the charmed ring and pot and sthingy.
The merchant's son spoke to the ring, and immediately a beautiful house and a lovely princess with golden hair appeared. He spoke to the pot and sthingy, also, and the most delicious dishes of food were provided for them. So he married the princess, and they lived very happily for several years, until one morning the princess, while arranging her toilet, put the loose hairs into a hollow bit of reed and threw them into the river that flowed along under the window. The reed floated on the water for many miles, and was at last picked up by the prince of that country, who curiously opened it and saw the golden hair. On finding it the prince rushed off to the palace, locked himself up in his room, and would not leave it. He had fallen desperately in love with the woman whose hair he had picked up, and refused to eat, or drink, or sleep, or move, till she was brought to him. The king, his father, was in great distress about the matter, and did not know what to do. He feared lest his son should die and leave him without an heir. At last he determined to seek the counsel of his aunt, who was an ogress. The old woman consented to help him, and bade him not to be anxious, as she felt certain that she would succeed in getting the beautiful woman for his son's wife.
She assumed the shape of a bee and went along buzzing, and buzzing, and buzzing. Her keen sense of smell soon brought her to the beautiful princess, to whom she appeared as an old hag, holding in one hand a stick by way of support. She introduced herself to the beautiful princess and said, "I am your aunt, whom you have never seen before, because I left the country just after your birth." She also embraced and kissed the princess by way of adding force to her words. The beautiful princess was thoroughly deceived. She returned the ogress's embrace, and invited her to come and stay in the house as long as she could, and treated her with such honour and attention, that the ogress thought to herself, "I shall soon accomplish my errand." When she had been in the house three days, she began to talk of the charmed ring, and advised her to keep it instead of her husband, because the latter was constantly out shooting and on other such-like expeditions, and might lose it. Accordingly the beautiful princess asked her husband for the ring, and he readily gave it to her.
The ogress waited another day before she asked to see the precious thing. Doubting nothing, the beautiful princess complied, when the ogress seized the ring, and reassuming the form of a bee flew away with it to the palace, where the prince was lying nearly on the point of death. "Rise up. Be glad. Mourn no more," she said to him. "The woman for whom you yearn will appear at your summons. See, here is the charm, whereby you may bring her before you." The prince was almost mad with joy when he heard these words, and was so desirous of seeing the beautiful princess, that he immediately spoke to the ring, and the house with its fair occupant descended in the midst of the palace garden. He at once entered the building, and telling the beautiful princess of his intense love, entreated her to be his wife. Seeing no escape from the difficulty, she consented on the condition that he would wait one month for her.
Meanwhile the merchant's son had returned from hunting and was terribly distressed not to find his house and wife. There was the place only, just as he knew it before he had tried the charmed ring which Raja Indrasha had given him. He sat down and determined to put an end to himself. Presently the cat and dog came up. They had gone away and hidden themselves, when they saw the house and everything disappear. "O master!" they said, "stay your hand. Your trial is great, but it can be remedied. Give us one month, and we will go and try to recover your wife and house."
"Go," said he, "and may the great God aid your efforts. Bring back my wife, and I shall live."
So the cat and dog started off at a run, and did not stop till they reached the place whither their mistress and the house had been taken. "We may have some difficulty here," said the cat. "Look, the king has taken our master's wife and house for himself. You stay here. I will go to the house and try to see her." So the dog sat down, and the cat climbed up to the window of the room, wherein the beautiful princess was sitting, and entered. The princess recognised the cat, and informed it of all that had happened to her since she had left them.
"But is there no way of escape from the hands of these people?" she asked.
"Yes," replied the cat, "if you can tell me where the charmed ring is."
"The ring is in the stomach of the ogress," she said.
"All right," said the cat, "I will recover it. If we once get it, everything is ours." Then the cat descended the wall of the house, and went and laid down by a rat's hole and pretended she was dead. Now at that time a great wedding chanced to be going on among the rat community of that place, and all the rats of the neighbourhood were assembled in that one particular mine by which the cat had lain down. The eldest son of the king of the rats was about to be married. The cat got to know of this, and at once conceived the idea of seizing the bridegroom and making him render the necessary help. Consequently, when the procession poured forth from the hole squealing and jumping in honour of the occasion, it immediately spotted the bridegroom and pounced down on him. "Oh! let me go, let me go," cried the terrified rat. "Oh! let him go," squealed all the company. "It is his wedding day."
"No, no," replied the cat. "Not unless you do some thing for me. Listen. The ogress, who lives in that house with the prince and his wife, has swallowed a ring, which I very much want. If you will procure it for me, I will allow the rat to depart unharmed. If you do not, then your prince dies under my feet."
"Very well, we agree," said they all. "Nay, if we do not get the ring for you, devour us all."
This was rather a bold offer. However, they accomplished the thing. At midnight, when the ogress was sound asleep, one of the rats went to her bedside, climbed up on her face, and inserted its tail into her throat; whereupon the ogress coughed violently, and the ring came out and rolled on to the floor. The rat immediately seized the precious thing and ran off with it to its king, who was very glad, and went at once to the cat and released its son.
As soon as the cat received the ring, she started back with the dog to go and tell their master the good tidings. All seemed safe now. They had only to give the ring to him, and he would speak to it, and the house and beautiful princess would again be with them, and everything would go on as happily as before. "How glad master will be!" they thought, and ran as fast as their legs could carry them. Now, on the way they had to cross a stream. The dog swam, and the cat sat on its back. Now the dog was jealous of the cat, so he asked for the ring, and threatened to throw the cat into the water if it did not give it up; whereupon the cat gave up the ring. Sorry moment, for the dog at once dropped it, and a fish swallowed it.
"Oh! what shall I do? what shall I do?" said the dog.
"What is done is done," replied the cat. "We must try to recover it, and if we do not succeed we had better drown ourselves in this stream. I have a plan. You go and kill a small lamb, and bring it here to me."
"All right," said the dog, and at once ran off. He soon came back with a dead lamb, and gave it to the cat. The cat got inside the lamb and lay down, telling the dog to go away a little distance and keep quiet. Not long after this a nadhar, a bird whose look can break the bones of a fish, came and hovered over the lamb, and eventually pounced down on it to carry it away. On this the cat came out and jumped on to the bird, and threatened to kill it if it did not recover the lost ring. This was most readily promised by the nadhar, who immediately flew off to the king of the fishes, and ordered it to make inquiries and to restore the ring. The king of the fishes did so, and the ring was found and carried back to the cat.
"Come along now; I have got the ring," said the cat to the dog.
"No, I will not," said the dog, "unless you let me have the ring. I can carry it as well as you. Let me have it or I will kill you." So the cat was obliged to give up the ring. The careless dog very soon dropped it again. This time it was picked up and carried off by a kite.
"See, see, there it goes--away to that big tree," the cat exclaimed.
"Oh! oh! what have I done?" cried the dog.
"You foolish thing, I knew it would be so," said the cat. "But stop your barking, or you will frighten away the bird to some place where we shall not be able to trace it."
The cat waited till it was quite dark, and then climbed the tree, killed the kite, and recovered the ring. "Come along," it said to the dog when it reached the ground. "We must make haste now. We have been delayed. Our master will die from grief and suspense. Come on."
The dog, now thoroughly ashamed of itself, begged the cat's pardon for all the trouble it had given. It was afraid to ask for the ring the third time, so they both reached their sorrowing master in safety and gave him the precious charm. In a moment his sorrow was turned into joy. He spoke to the ring, and his beautiful wife and house reappeared, and he and everybody were as happy as ever they could be.
The Lion and the Mouse « Result #2 on Mar 2, 2009, 5:05am »
A LION was awakened from sleep by a Mouse running over his face. Rising up angrily, he caught him and was about to kill him, when the Mouse piteously entreated, saying: "If you would only spare my life, I would be sure to repay your kindness." The Lion laughed and let him go. It happened shortly after this that the Lion was caught by some hunters, who bound him by strong ropes to the ground. The Mouse, recognizing his roar, came and gnawed the rope with his teeth and set him free, exclaiming: "You ridiculed the idea of my ever being able to help you, expecting to receive from me any repayment of your favor; now you know that it is possible for even a Mouse to con benefits on a Lion."
How the Swan got a long neck « Result #3 on Mar 2, 2009, 5:05am »
There was this really large pond that ducks, and swans shared. It was in the shape of a swan , so the vain swans insisted that it should be called swan lake. Many think that there isn't much difference between swans and ducks but there is. Swans at first didn't have long necks but they had beautiful feathers, slender bodies, and they didn't paddle like ducks, they gracefully swam. The ducks however at this time were ugly, and bulky and just frantically kicked their short legs to swim. The swans wouldn't let the ducks swim with them, which angered the ducks since they too lived at that pond. One day while the swans, and ducks were arguing about which group would swim first a flock of geese came over as they were passing by to see what all the fuss was about. They listened, and found that the swans were vain and thought that since they were prettier, and gracefuller that they should use the pond first. They also found that the ducks thought that they should use it becuase the last time the swans refused to let them have their turn. Then a goose said,(more like honked) that they should share the pond since it was rather large. The swans unsurprisingly got mad at this so a fight broke out. The ducks were pulling at the swans feet, and the geese were honking and biting the swans necks, and pulled as hard as they could. About an hour later the fight had ended. The ducks and geese stood there looking humorously at the swans. They had stretched the swans necks out so far that they couldn't hold their heads up. A few hours later the swans had finally shortened their necks at least to the point where they could steadily hold them. But after that day swans, ducks, and geese shared all the ponds in peace, and there were no taking turns. But still today the swans have fairly long necks. The ducks however are no longer ugly,they to are pretty, and a little more graceful.
The Beetle and the Silken Thread « Result #4 on Mar 2, 2009, 5:05am »
The strange adventures related in the story of the Beetle and the Silken Thread took place in the town of Allahabad, "the City of God," so called because it is situated near the point of meeting of the two sacred rivers of India, the Ganges, which the Hindus lovingly call Mother Ganga because they believe its waters can wash away their sins, and the Jumna, which they consider scarcely less holy.
The ruler of Allahabad was a very selfish and hot-tempered Raja named Surya Pratap, signifying "Powerful as the Sun," who expected everybody to obey him without a moment's delay, and was ready to punish in a very cruel manner those who hesitated to do so. He would never listen to a word of explanation, or own that he had been mistaken, even when he knew full well that he was in the wrong. He had a mantri, that is to say, a chief vizier or officer, whom he greatly trusted, and really seemed to be fond of, for he liked to have him always near him. The vizier was called Dhairya-Sila, or "the Patient One," because he never lost his temper, no matter what provocation he received. He had a beautiful house, much money and many jewels, carriages to drive about in, noble horses to ride and many servants to wait upon him, all given to him by his master. But what he loved best of all was his faithful wife, Buddhi-Mati, or "the Sensible One," whom he had chosen for himself, and who would have died for him.
Many of the Raja's subjects were jealous of Dhairya-Sila, and constantly brought accusations against him, of none of which his master took any notice, except to punish those who tried to set him against his favourite. It really seemed as if nothing would ever bring harm to Dhairya-Sila; but he often told his wife that such good fortune was not likely to last, and that she must be prepared for a change before long.
It turned out that he was right. For one day Surya Pratap ordered him to do what he considered would be a shameful deed. He refused; telling his master that he was wrong to think of such a thing, and entreating him to give up his purpose. "All your life long," he said, "you will wish you had listened to me; for your conscience will never let you rest!"
On hearing these brave words, Surya Pratap flew into a terrible rage, summoned his guards, and ordered them to take Dhairya-Sila outside the city to a very lofty tower, and leave him at the top of it, without shelter from the sun and with nothing to eat or drink. The guards were at first afraid to touch the vizier, remembering how others had been punished for only speaking against him. Seeing their unwillingness, the Raja got more and more angry; but Dhairya-Sila himself kept quite calm, and said to the soldiers:
"I go with you gladly. It is for the master to command and for me to obey."
The guards were relieved to find they need not drag the vizier away; for they admired his courage and felt sure that the Raja would soon find he could not get on without him. It might go hardly with them if he suffered harm at their hands. So they only closed in about him; and holding himself very upright, Dhairya-Sila walked to the tower as if he were quite glad to go. In his heart however he knew full well that it would need all his skill to escape with his life.
When her husband did not come home at night, Buddhi-Mati was very much distressed. She guessed at once that something had gone wrong, and set forth to try and find out what had happened. This was easy enough; for as she crept along, with her veil closely held about her lest she should be recognised, she passed groups of people discussing the terrible fate that had befallen the favourite. She decided that she must wait until midnight, when the streets would be deserted and she could reach the tower unnoticed. It was almost dark when she got there, but in the dim light of the stars she made out the form of him she loved better than herself, leaning over the edge of the railing at the top.
"Is my dear lord still alive?" she whispered, "and is there anything I can do to help him?"
"You can do everything that is needed to help me," answered Dhairya-Sila quietly, "if you only obey every direction I give you. Do not for one moment suppose that I am in despair. I am more powerful even now than my master, who has but shown his weakness by attempting to harm me. Now listen to me. Come to-morrow night at this very hour, bringing with you the following things: first, a beetle; secondly, sixty yards of the finest silk thread, as thin as a spider's web; thirdly, sixty yards of cotton thread, as thin as you can get it, but very strong; fourthly, sixty yards of good stout twine; fifthly, sixty yards of rope, strong enough to carry my weight; and last, but certainly not least, one drop of the purest bees' honey."
Buddhi-Mati listened very attentively to these strange instructions, and began to ask questions about them. "Why do you want the beetle? Why do you want the honey?" and so on. But her husband checked her. "I have no strength to waste in explanations," he said. "Go home in peace, sleep well, and dream of me." So the anxious wife went meekly away; and early the next day she set to work to obey the orders she had received. She had some trouble in obtaining fine enough silk, so very, very thin it had to be, like a spider's web; but the cotton, twine and rope were easily bought; and to her surprise she was not asked what she wanted them for. It took her a good while to choose the beetle. For though she had a vague kind of idea that the silk, the cotton, twine, and rope, were to help her husband get down from the tower, she could not imagine what share the beetle and the honey were to take. In the end she chose a very handsome, strong-looking, brilliantly coloured fellow who lived in the garden of her home and whom she knew to be fond of honey.
All the time Buddhi-Mati was at work for her husband, she was thinking of him and looking forward to the happy day of his return home. She had such faith in him that she did not for a moment doubt that he would escape; but she was anxious about the future, feeling sure that the Raja would never forgive Dhairya-Sila for being wiser than himself. Exactly at the time fixed the faithful wife appeared at the foot of the tower, with all the things she had been told to bring with her.
"Is all well with my lord?" she whispered, as she gazed up through the darkness. "I have the silken thread as fine as gossamer, the cotton thread, the twine, the rope, the beetle and the honey."
"Yes," answered Dhairya-Sila, "all is still well with me. I have slept well, feeling confident that my dear one would bring all that is needed for my safety; but I dread the great heat of another day, and we must lose no time in getting away from this terrible tower. Now attend most carefully to all I bid you do; and remember not to speak loud, or the sentries posted within hearing will take alarm and drive you away. First of all, tie the end of the silken thread round the middle of the beetle, leaving all its legs quite free. Then rub the drop of honey on its nose, and put the little creature on the wall, with its nose turned upwards towards me. It will smell the honey, but will not guess that it carries it itself, and it will crawl upwards in the hope of getting to the hive from which that honey came. Keep the rest of the silk firmly held, and gradually unwind it as the beetle climbs up. Mind you do not let it slip, for my very life depends on that slight link with you."
Buddhi-Mati, though her hands shook and her heart beat fast as she realized all that depended on her, kept the silk from becoming entangled; and when it was nearly all unwound, she heard her husband's voice saying to her: "Now tie the cotton thread to the end of the silk that you hold, and let it gradually unwind." She obeyed, fully understanding now what all these preparations were for.
When the little messenger of life reached the top of the tower, Dhairya-Sila took it up in his hand and very gently unfastened the silken thread from its body. Then he placed the beetle carefully in a fold of his turban, and began to pull the silken thread up--very, very slowly, for if it had broken, his wonderful scheme would have come to an end. Presently he had the cotton thread in his fingers, and he broke off the silk, wound it up, and placed it too in his turban. It had done its duty well, and he would not throw it away.
"Half the work is done now," he whispered to his faithful wife. "You have all but saved me now. Take the twine and tie it to the end of the cotton thread."
Very happily Buddhi-Mati obeyed once more; and soon the cotton thread and twine were also laid aside, and the strong rope tied to the last was being quickly dragged up by the clever vizier, who knew that all fear of death from sunstroke or hunger was over. When he had all the rope on the tower, he fastened one end of it to the iron railing which ran round the platform on which he stood, and very quickly slid down to the bottom, where his wife was waiting for him, trembling with joy.
After embracing his wife and thanking her for saving him, the vizier said to her: "Before we return home, let us give thanks to the great God who helped me in my need by putting into my head the device by which I escaped." The happy pair then prostrated themselves on the ground, and in fervent words of gratitude expressed their sense of what the God they worshipped had done for them. "And now," said Dhairya-Sila, "the next thing we have to do is to take the dear little beetle which was the instrument of my rescue back to the place it came from." And taking off his turban, he showed his wife the tiny creature lying in the soft folds.
Buddhi-Mati led her husband to the garden where she had found the beetle, and Dhairya-Sila laid it tenderly on the ground, fetched some food for it, such as he knew it loved, and there left it to take up its old way of life. The rest of the day he spent quietly in his own home with his wife, keeping out of sight of his servants, lest they should report his return to his master. "You must never breathe a word to any one of how I escaped," Dhairya-Sila said, and his wife promised that she never would.
The Hermits Daughter « Result #5 on Mar 2, 2009, 5:05am »
Near a town in India called Ikshumati, on a beautiful wide river, with trees belonging to a great forest near its banks, there dwelt a holy man named Mana Kanaka, who spent a great part of his life praying to God. He had lost his wife when his only child, a lovely girl called Kadali-Garbha, was only a few months old. Kadali-Garbha was a very happy girl, with many friends in the woods round her home, not children like herself, but wild creatures, who knew she would not do them any harm. They loved her and she loved them. The birds were so tame that they would eat out of her hand, and the deer used to follow her about in the hope of getting the bread she carried in her pocket for them. Her father taught her all she knew, and that was a great deal; for she could read quite learned books in the ancient language of her native land. Better even than what she found out in those books was what Mana Kanaka told her about the loving God of all gods who rules the world and all that live in it. Kadali-Garbha also learnt a great deal through her friendship with wild animals. She knew where the birds built their nests, where the baby deer were born, where the squirrels hid their nuts, and what food all the dwellers in the forest liked best. She helped her father to work in their garden in which all their own food was grown; and she loved to cook the fruit and vegetables for Mana Kanaka and herself. Her clothes were made of the bark of the trees in the forest, which she herself wove into thin soft material suitable for wearing in a hot climate.
Kadali-Garbha never even thought about other children, because she had not been used to having them with her. She was just as happy as the day was long, and never wished for any change. But when she was about sixteen something happened which quite altered her whole life. One day her father had gone into the forest to cut wood, and had left her alone. She had finished tidying the house, and got everything ready for the midday meal, and was sitting at the door of her home, reading to herself, with birds fluttering about her head and a pet doe lying beside her, when she heard the noise of a horse's feet approaching. She looked up, and there on the other side of the fence was a very handsome young man seated on a great black horse, which he had reined up when he caught sight of her. He looked at her without speaking, and she looked back at him with her big black eyes full of surprise at his sudden appearance. She made a beautiful picture, with the green creepers covering the hut behind her, and the doe, which had started up in fear of the horse, pressing against her.
The man was the king of the country, whose name was Dridha-Varman. He had been hunting and had got separated from his attendants. He was very much surprised to find anyone living in the very depths of the forest, and was going to ask the young girl who she was, when Kadali-Garbha saw her father coming along the path leading to his home. Jumping up, she ran to meet him, glad that he had come; for she had never before seen a young man and was as shy as any of the wild creatures of the woods. Now that Mana Kanaka was with her, she got over her fright, and felt quite safe, clinging to his arm as he and the king talked together.
3. Can you describe just how Kadali-Garbha felt when she saw the king?
4. Do you think it would have been a good or a bad thing for her to live all the rest of her life in the forest?
CHAPTER III
Mana Kanaka knew at once that the man on the horse was the king; and a great fear entered his heart when he saw how Dridha-Varman looked at his beloved only child.
"Who are you, and who is that lovely girl?" asked the king. And Mana Kanaka answered, "I am only a humble woodcutter; and this is my only child, whose mother has long been dead."
"Her mother must have been a very lovely woman, if her daughter is like her," said the king. "Never before have I seen such perfect beauty."
"Her mother," replied Mana Kanaka, "was indeed what you say; and her soul was as beautiful as the body in which it dwelt all too short a time."
"I would have your daughter for my wife," said the king; "and if you will give her to me, she shall have no wish ungratified. She shall have servants to wait on her and other young girls to be her companions; beautiful clothes to wear, the best of food to eat, horses and carriages as many as she will, and no work to do with her own hands."
What Kadali-Garbha did was to cling closely to her father, hiding her face on his arm and whispering, "I will not leave you: do not send me away from you, dear father."
Mana Kanaka stroked her hair, and said in a gentle voice:
"But, dear child, your father is old, and must leave you soon. It is a great honour for his little girl to be chosen by the king for his bride. Do not be afraid, but look at him and see how handsome he is and how kind he looks."
Then Kadali-Garbha looked at the king, who smiled at her and looked so charming that her fear began to leave her. She still clung to her father, but no longer hid her face; and Mana Kanaka begged Kadali-Garbha to let him send her away, so that he might talk with the king alone about the wish he had expressed to marry her. The king consented to this, and Kadali-Garbha gladly ran away. But when she reached the door of her home, she looked back, and knew in her heart that she already loved the king and did not want him to go away.
It did not take long for the matter of the marriage to be settled. For Mana Kanaka, sad though he was to lose his dear only child, was glad that she should be a queen, and have some one to take care of her when he was gone. After this first visit to the little house in the forest the king came every day to see Kadali-Garbha, bringing all kinds of presents for her. She learnt to love him so much that she became as eager as he was for the wedding to be soon. When the day was fixed, the king sent several ladies of his court to dress the bride in clothes more beautiful that she had ever dreamt of; and in them she looked more lovely even than the first day her lover had seen her.
Now amongst these ladies was a very wise woman who could see what was going to happen; and she knew that there would be troubles for the young queen in the palace, because many would be jealous of her happiness. She was very much taken with the beautiful innocent girl, and wanted to help her so much that she managed to get her alone for a few minutes, when she said to her: "I want you to promise me something. It is to take this packet of mustard seeds, hide it in the bosom of your dress, and when you ride to the palace with your husband, strew the seed along the path as you go. You know how quickly mustard grows. Well, it will spring up soon; and if you want to come home again, you can easily find the way by following the green shoots. Alas, I fear they will not have time to wither before you need their help!"
Kadali-Garbha laughed when the wise woman talked about trouble coming to her. She was so happy, she could not believe she would want to come home again so soon. "My father can come to me when I want him," she said. "I need only tell my dear husband to send for him." But for all that she took the packet of seeds and hid it in her dress.
After the wedding was over, the king mounted his beautiful horse, and bending down, took his young wife up before him. Holding her close to him with his right arm, he held the reins in his left hand; and away they went, soon leaving all the attendants far behind them, the queen scattering the mustard seed as she had promised to do. When they arrived at the palace there were great rejoicings, and everybody seemed charmed with the queen, who was full of eager interest in all that she saw.
For several weeks there was nobody in the wide world so happy and light-hearted as the bride. The king spent many hours a day with her, and was never tired of listening to all she had to tell him about her life in the forest with her father. Every day he gave her some fresh proof of his love, and he never refused to do anything she asked him to do. But presently a change came. Amongst the ladies of the court there was a beautiful woman, who had hoped to be queen herself, and hated Kadali-Garbha so much that she made up her mind to get her into disgrace with the king. She asked first one powerful person and then another to help her; but everybody loved the queen, and the wicked woman began to be afraid that those she had told about her wish to harm her would warn the king. So she sought about for some one who did not know Kadali-Garbha, and suddenly remembered a wise woman named Asoka-Mala, who lived in a cave not far from the town, to whom many people used to go for advice in their difficulties. She went to this woman one night, and told her a long story in which there was not one word of truth. The young queen, she said, did not really love the king; and with the help of her father, who was a magician, she meant to poison him. How could this terrible thing be prevented, she asked; and she promised that if only Asoka-Mala would help to save Dridha-Varman, she would give her a great deal of money.
A number of young girls were drawing water at the village well and telling each other their fantasies of when and whom and how they would marry. One of them said, "My uncle will come loaded with wedding presents and dress me in brocade, and I'll get married in a palace."
Another said, "My uncle is coming soon with a camel-load of sweets."
The third said, "Oh, my uncle will be here in no time in a golden carriage filled with jewels."
Bopoluchi was the prettiest of them all and she looked sad---she was an orphan and had no one in the world to arrange a marriage for her or give her a dowry. Still, not to be outdone by the others, she said, "And my uncle will bring me dresses, sweets, and jewels in golden plates."
A robber, disguised as a peddler selling perfumes to country women, happened to be sitting near the well. He heard what Bopoluchi said. He was so struck by her beauty and spirit that he decided to marry her himself. So the very next day, he disguised himself as a rich farmer and came to Bopoluchi's hut with trays full of silken dresses, sweets, and rare jewels---things he had looted and put away.
Bopoluchi could hardly believe her eyes, for it was just as she had fantasized.
The robber even said he was her uncle, her father's long-lost brother, and had come home to arrange his niece's wedding with one of his sons.
Bopoluchi couldn't believe her ears, but she believed him and was ecstatic. She packed up her few belongings and set off with the robber.
But as they went along the road, a crow in a tree croaked:
"Bopoluchi, beware! Smell the danger in the air! It's no uncle that relieves you But a robber who deceives you!" "Uncle," said Bopoluchi, "that crow croaks in a funny way. What does it say?" "Nothing," said the robber. "All the crows in this country croak like that."
A little farther on, they met a peathingy which, as soon as it caught sight of the pretty girl, began to scream:
"Bopoluchi, beware! Smell the danger in the air! It's no uncle that relieves you But a robber who deceives you!" "Uncle," said the girl, "that peathingy screams in a funny way. What does it say?" "Oh, nothing," said the robber. "All the peathingys scream like that in this country." Then a jackal slunk across the road and began to howl:
"Bopoluchi, beware! Smell the danger in the air! It's no uncle that relieves you But a robber who deceives you!" "Uncle," said Bopoluchi, "that jackal howls in such a funny way. What does it say?" "Oh, nothing," said the robber. "All the jackals howl like that in this country."
So Bopoluchi traveled with him many miles till they reached the robber's house. Once they were inside, he locked the door and told her who he was and how he wanted to marry her himself. She wept and wailed, but the pitiless robber left her with his ancient crone of a mother and went out to make arrangements for the marriage feast.
Now Bopoluchi had long, beautiful hair that reached down to her ankles, but the mother of the robber was so old she didn't have a hair on her head.
"Daughter," said the old hag, as she was getting the bridal clothes ready, "how did you manage to get such beautiful hair?"
"Well," replied Bopoluchi, "my mother had a way of making it grow by pounding my head in the big mortar for husking rice. At every stroke of the pestle, my hair grew longer and longer. It's a method that never fails."
"Maybe it will work for me, too, and make my hair grow," said the old woman, who had always wanted long hair and never had very much. "Maybe it will. Why don't we try it?" said Bopoluchi.
So the old mother put her head in the mortar, and Bopoluchi pounded away with such force that the old woman died.
Then Bopoluchi dressed the dead body in the scarlet bridal dress, seated it on the bridal chair, drew the veil over its face, and put the spinning-wheel in front of it, so that when the robber came home he might think it was his bride. Then she put on the old woman's clothes, picked up her few belongings, and stepped out of the house as quickly as possible.
On her way home, the robber saw her hurrying by. He had stolen a millstone to grind the grain for the feast. She was scared he would recognize her, but he didn't. He thought she was some old woman hobbling along. So Bopoluchi reached home safely.
When the robber came home and saw the figure in the bridal dress sitting in the bridal chair spinning, he thought it was Bopoluchi. He called her to help him with the millstone, but she didn't answer. He called again, but she still didn't answer. After calling a few more times, he flew into a rage and threw the millstone at her head. The figure toppled over, and when he came close, it wasn't Bopoluchi at all but his own old mother with her head bashed in. The robber wept and cried aloud and beat his breast because he thought he had killed his own mother. Soon it became clear to him that Bopoluchi was no longer around and had run away. He was wild with rage and ran out to bring her back, wherever she was.
When she reached home, Bopoluchi knew that the robber would certainly come after her. Every night she begged her neighbors to let her sleep in a different house, leaving her own little bed in her own little house empty. But she couldn't do this forever, as she soon came to the end of friends who would let her sleep in their houses. So she decided to brave it out and sleep in her own bed, with a sharp billhook next to her. Sure enough, in the 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 held the leg close behind her head. Bopoluchi was wide awake, but she pretended to be fast asleep until they came to a deserted spot and the thieves were off their guard. Then she whipped out the billhook and in a flash cut off the heads of the two thieves at the foot of the bed. Turning around quickly, she cut off the head of the third thief, but the robber himself ran away in a fright and scrambled up a nearby tree like a wild cat before she could get at him.
Bopoluchi cried out to him, brandishing her billhook, "Come down, if you are a man, and fight it out!"
But the robber would not come down. So Bopoluchi gathered all the sticks she could find, piled them around the tree, and set fire to them. The tree caught fire, and the robber, stifled by the smoke, tried to jump down and broke his neck.
After that, Bopoluchi went to the robber's house and carried off all the gold and silver, jewels, and clothes that were hidden there. She had them brought home to her village in silver and gold platters, on camels and donkeys. She was now so rich she could marry anyone she pleased.
Sukhu and Dukhu « Result #7 on Mar 2, 2009, 5:05am »
A man had two wives and had a daughter by each of them. Dukhu was the daughter of the elder wife and Sukhu was the daughter of the younger. The man loved his younger wife and her daughter
Sukhu more than the older wife and her daughter Dukhu. The daughters' natures were just like their mothers'. Sukhu was as lazy and ill-tempered as Dukhu was active and lovable. Furthermore, Sukhu and her mother hated the other two and treated them badly anytime they had the chance.
The man took ill, and died in spite of every kind of treatment. The younger wife inherited all his property, and she drove Dukhu and her mother out of the house.
Dukhu and her mother found an empty hut outside town and occupied it. They made a living by spinning thread. One day when Dukhu was spinning outside her hut, the wind blew hard and carried away her wad of cotton. She ran after it but couldn't catch up with it. When she began to cry in desperation, she heard a voice in the wind, "Don't cry, Dukhu, come with me. I'll give you all the cotton you want."
So she followed the wind. On the way, she met a cow, which spoke to her: "Not so fast, Dukhu. My shed is covered with dung. Wash it clean for me, and I'll help you later."
Dukhu drew water from the well and got herself a broom and washed the cowshed clean as clean could be. The wind was waiting for her to finish. As soon as she finished, she went with the wind again. They came to a plantain tree, which stopped her and said, "Where are you going, Dukhu? Can't you stop a minute and pull down all these creepers from my body so that I can stand up straight? It's hard to stand bent down like this all day and all night. Please."
"I'll be glad to do that," said Dukhu, and she tore down all the creepers that were smothering the tree.
The tree said, "You're a good girl. I'll help you some other time."
"I didn't do anything special, really," said Dukhu and hurried on, for the wind was waiting for her.
Next she met a horse and it said, "Where are you going, Dukhu? This saddle and bridle cut into me. I can't bend down to eat the grass. Will you please take them off for me?"
Dukhu took off the saddle and bridle. The horse was grateful and promised her a gift.
The wind said, as they moved on, "Do you see that palace there? That's where the Mother of the Moon lives. She can give you as much cotton as you want." With that, he left her there.
Dukhu walked towards the palace. It seemed deserted. She felt afraid and lonely. She stood there in front of it for a while and then decided to go in. Timidly, step by step, she walked through the rooms. Not a mouse stirring, not a living soul anywhere. Suddenly she heard a noise behind a closed door. She went up to it and knocked softly. A voice said, "Come in."
Dukhu pushed the door open and saw an old lady working at a wheel. She was luminous as if the moon was specially shining on her.
Dukhu bowed to her, touched her feet and said, "Granny, the wind blew away all my cotton. If I don't spin, my mother and I will starve. Will you give me some cotton?"
"I'll give you something better than cotton," said the old Mother of the Moon, "if you are deserving. Do you see that pond out there? Go to that pond and dip in it twice. Only twice, not three times, remember."
So Dukhu walked out of the palace and went to the pond and took a dip. When she rose out of the water, she had been changed into someone very beautiful. When she took a second dip, she was covered with silks, pearls, and gems. Her sari was muslin, and she had gold necklaces so heavy that they weighed her down. She couldn't believe what was happening to her.
When she ran back to the palace, the old woman said, "Child, I know you are hungry. Go to the next room. I've food there for you."
The next room had food of every kind, the best rice, the finest curries, sweets beyond her dreams. After eating her fill, she went back to the old woman, who said, "I want to give you something more," and showed her three caskets, each bigger than the next. "Choose one," she said. Dukhu chose the smallest one and said good-bye to the old woman and left the palace.
As she retraced her steps, she met the horse, the plantain tree, and the cow. Each wanted to give her a gift to take home with her. The horse gave her a young colt of the finest breed; the tree gave her a bunch of plantains yellow as gold and a pot full of old gold coins; and the cow gave her a tawny calf whose udders would never be dry.
Dukhu thanked them all for their wonderful gifts, seated herself on the colt with the pot of gold and the plantains, and found her way home, with the calf walking close behind her.
Her mother, meanwhile, had made herself sick with anxiety, not knowing where Dukhu had gone and when she would come back. She was beside herself with joy when she heard Dukhu's voice call out, "Mother, where are you? Look what I've got!"
When the mother had recovered from her shock of joy, she couldn't believe her eyes. The muslins, the jewels, the gold coins, the plantains, the horse, and the calf---she looked at every one of them over and over. She was speechless.
After a while she found her voice and asked her daughter how she came by all these fabulous things. Dukhu told her the whole story about the wind, the cow, the tree, the horse, and the old Mother of the Moon, and ended by saying, "That's not all. Here's something else she has given me: this casket!"
She then showed her mother the casket. They thought it would be full of more jewels, pearls, gold, and silver. But when they slowly opened it, out of it stepped a most handsome young man dressed like a prince.
"I've been sent here to marry you," he said to Dukhu, without wasting an extra word.
Soon a date was fixed, kith and kin were invited, and a great gala wedding was celebrated. The only people who did not come to the wedding were Sukhu and her mother.
Now, Dukhu's mother was a good woman. Though she had suddenly come into wealth and status, it hadn't gone to her head. She still wanted to be friends with Sukhu and her mother. So she offered Sukhu some ornaments, as they now had heaps of them. But Sukhu's mother was offended. She put her fist to her cheek and hissed, "Why should Sukhu take your leftovers? She's not going begging for jewels! If God had wanted to give my daughter jewels, he would have kept her father alive. My Sukhu is lovely as she is. She needs no ornaments. Only girls who are ugly as owls need fine saris and necklaces to make them look good."
But she didn't forget to make discreet inquiries to find out how Dukhu had come by her great good fortune. Once she learned where Dukhu had gone and how she found the Mother of the Moon, she said to herself, "I'll show her! She is trying to rub her good luck in my face. I'll make my Sukhu a hundred times richer."
Then she brought Sukhu a spinning-wheel and made her spin in the outer yard where the wind was blowing. "Listen to me carefully, Sukhu, my dear," she said. "The wind will blow away your wad of cotton. Then don't forget to howl and wail till the wind asks you to follow it. Be courteous to anyone you meet on the way. Go wherever the wind takes you till you meet the Mother of the Moon."
Living Like a Pig « Result #8 on Mar 2, 2009, 5:05am »
One day, a guru foresaw in a flash of vision what he would be in his next life. So he called his favorite disciple and asked him what he would do for his guru in return for all he had received. The disciple said he would do whatever his guru asked him to do. Having received this promise, the guru said, "Then this is what I'd like you to do for me. I've just learned that when I die, which will be very soon, I'm going to be reborn as a pig. Do you see that sow eating garbage there in the yard? I'm going to be reborn as the fourth piglet of its next litter. You'll recognize me by a mark on my brow. When that sow has littered, find the fourth piglet with a mark on its brow and, with one stroke of your knife, slaughter it. I'll then be released from a pig's life. Will you do this for me?"
The disciple was sad to hear all this, but he agreed to do as he had promised.
Soon after this conversation, the guru did die. And the sow did have a litter of four little pigs. One day, the disciple sharpened his knife and picked out the fourth little pig, which did indeed have a mark on its brow. Just as he was about to bring down his knife to slit its throat, the little pig suddenly spoke. "Stop! Don't kill me!" it screamed.
Before the disciple could recover from the shock of hearing the little pig speak in a human voice, it said, "Don't kill me. I want to live on as a pig. When I asked you to kill me, I didn't know what a pig's life would be like. It's great! Just let me go."
The Magic Bowls « Result #9 on Mar 2, 2009, 5:04am »
A dove laid an egg in the hollow of a big tree in front of the blacksmith's house. When she flew away from her nest in search of food, the blacksmith's wife stole the egg. The dove came back to her nest and found the egg missing. The dove knew at once that the blacksmith's wife must have taken it. So she went to the woman and pleaded, "Give me back my egg, please."
The blacksmith's wife pretended that she knew nothing about it and said, "What egg are you talking about? I didn't see any egg." The dove was heartbroken and flew about looking for help. On the way she met a pig, who asked, "Why are you crying, little bird?"
She said, "O pig, can you help me? Will you dig up the yams of the blacksmith's wife who stole my egg?"
"No, not I," grunted the pig, walking away.
She then met a hunter, who asked, "Why are you in tears, little bird?"
The bird said, "Will you shoot an arrow at the pig who wouldn't dig up the yams of the blacksmith's wife who stole my egg?"
"Why should I? Leave me out of this," said the hunter, walking away.
The dove wept some more and flew on till she met a rat, who also asked why she was in tears. The dove said, "Will you gnaw and cut the bowstring of the hunter who wouldn't shoot the pig who wouldn't dig up the yams of the blacksmith's wife who stole my egg?"
The rat too said, "Not I," and went his own way.
Next she met a cat, who asked, "What's the matter, little bird?"
"Will you catch the rat who wouldn't cut the bowstring of the hunter who wouldn't shoot the pig who wouldn't dig up the yams of the blacksmith's wife who stole my egg?"
The cat would rather mind her own business.
The poor dove was beside herself with anger and grief. Her wails attracted the attention of a passing dog, who asked her what was bothering her. She said, "Will you bite the cat who wouldn't catch the rat who wouldn't cut the bowstring of the hunter who wouldn't shoot the pig who wouldn't dig up the yams of the blacksmith's wife who stole my egg?"
"No, not I," said the dog and ran away.
The dove's wails grew louder and louder.
An old man with a long white beard came that way and asked the crying bird what the matter was. She said, "Grandfather, will you beat the dog who wouldn't bite the cat who wouldn't catch the rat who wouldn't cut the bowstring of the hunter who wouldn't shoot the pig who wouldn't dig up the yams of the blacksmith's wife who stole my egg?"
The old man didn't want to do anything of the sort and shook his head and went his way.
The dove next went to the fire for help and asked it to burn the white beard of the old man, but the fire wouldn't do it. Next the dove went to the water and asked it to put out the fire which wouldn't burn the beard of the old man who refused to beat the dog who wouldn't bite the cat who wouldn't catch the rat who wouldn't cut the bowstring of the hunter who wouldn't shoot the pig who wouldn't dig up the yams of the blacksmith's wife who stole the egg. Water too was unwilling to help.
Not long afterwards, the dove met an elephant and asked if he would stir up the water which wouldn't put out the fire which refused to burn the beard of the old man who wouldn't . . .
The elephant said, "No, not I."
Then the dove looked about and found a black ant, who also asked her what was troubling her.
"O ant! I know you can help me. Will you go into the elephant's trunk and bite him for not stirring up the water which wouldn't put out the fire which wouldn't burn the beard of the old man who wouldn't beat the dog who wouldn't bite the cat who wouldn't catch the rat who wouldn't cut the bowstring of the hunter who wouldn't shoot the pig who wouldn't dig up the yams of the blacksmith's wife who stole my egg?"
"Why not? Here I go," said the ant and crawled inside the elephant's trunk and bit it in the softest place, very hard. This made the elephant dash into the pool of water and stir it up. The water splashed and began to put out the fire, which went mad and burned the white beard of the old man, who beat the dog, who ran after the cat and bit her. The cat caught the rat, who gnawed the bowstring of the hunter's bow. The hunter tied on a new one and shot an arrow at the pig, who went and dug up all the yams of the blacksmith's wife.
The blacksmith's wife knew at once what she had to do and carefully put the dove's egg back in the nest in the hollow of the big tree.
Parwati and the Beggar-Man « Result #10 on Mar 2, 2009, 5:04am »
Once upon a time there was a town called Atpat. In It there lived a Brahman. He had seven daughters, and when they had reached a marriageable age he asked them who would arrange their marriages and bring them handsome husbands and make their fortunes. The six eldest daughters said, "Papa, Papa, you of course. You will arrange our marriages and bring us handsome husbands and make our fortunes for us."
But the youngest daughter was a naughty little girl. She got into a temper all about nothing, and she stamped her foot, and she turned her back on her father and said, "I will arrange my own marriage, and I will get a handsome husband for myself, and I will make my fortune myself." The Brahman was very angry with her, and so how do you think he punished her? He first searched about and found six rich and handsome boys. Then he married them with great pomp and display to his six eldest daughters.
But the youngest girl he gave in marriage to a miserable beggar-man. You never saw such a beggar-man as he was! There was not a spot on his skin that was not black with leprosy, and his feet and hands had rotted right off. If you had seen him you would have said, "If that beggar-man does not die to-day he will certainly die to-morrow. For he cannot possibly live any longer!" When the marriage was celebrated, the little girl's mother filled her lap with wheat and then handed her over to the beggar-man to see what sort of fortune would be hers.
But in a few days the beggar-man died. His corpse was taken to the burning-ground, and his little widow followed it. But when his relatives wanted to burn the body, she forbade them and told them to go away. For she said, "My fortune is still to come, whatever it may be." They all got round her and tried to persuade her that there was no use in her staying by the corpse, but she would not mind what they said. At last they were quite tired out and went home, leaving her in the burning-ground. When they had gone she took her husband's corpse on to her lap. Then she prayed to the god Shiva and said:
"My parents disown me. O why was I born Both as orphan and widow to live all forlorn?"
As she prayed, she put the wheat which her mother had put into her lap grain by grain in the dead man's mouth. Then she sat there crying until midnight. Now it happened that on that very night Shiva and Parwati were in their chariot driving through the air over that very place. Parwati said suddenly to her husband, "I hear a woman crying, let us go and see what it is."
The god Shiva drove his chariot down to earth. He and Parwati got out and saw the Brahman's youngest daughter crying. They asked her what the reason was, and she told them. Then Parwati pitied her and said, "Your aunt has acquired great merit by her piety and devotions. You go to her and get her to give you all her merit and so you will bring your husband back to life." The god Shiva and Parwati then mounted on their chariot and disappeared.
Next morning the little widow left her husband's body, went to her aunt's house and begged her to give her all the merit which she had acquired, and told her the cause of the request. The aunt was very good and gave her all her own merit. The little widow then went back to the burning-ground and with its aid brought her husband back to life. But this time he was no longer a beggar-man black with leprosy and with feet and hands that had rotted away. He was a beautiful young man with well-shaped feet and a beautiful fair skin, and the little widow took her husband back to her father's house.
"Papa, Papa," she said, "you turned me out, but the gods have brought me back, and good fortune came to me without your bringing it." The father was too frightened of Parwati to say anything, so he held his peace. And the little girl and her husband, the beggar-man, lived happily ever afterwards.
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