Chapter 8
Another poor man who was not quite, but nearly, as poor as this man had been, asked him where he had got his riches. "I got them out of a river," answered the man. "I drew the water with a bucket, and in every bucketful there was gold." The other man started off to the river and began drawing up water in a bucket. "Stop, stop!" cried an alligator, who was the king of the fishes; "you are taking all the water out of the river and my fishes will die." "I want money," said the man, "and I can find none, so I am taking the water out of the river in order to get some." "You shall have some in a minute," said the alligator, "only do stop drawing the water." Then a great wave of water dashed on to the land and dashed back into the river, leaving behind it a great heap of gold, which the man picked up joyfully. The next day he came again, and night and day he drew water out of the river. At last the alligator got very angry, and said, "My fishes will all die for want of water. Once I gave the man a heap of gold, and yet he wants more. I won't give him any," and the alligator thrust up his head out of the river, and swallowed the man whole. For four days and four nights the man lived in the alligator's stomach. At the end of the fourth night the king of the fishes said to him, "I will let you get out of my stomach on condition that you tell no man what has happened to you. If you do, you will die instantly." The man jumped out of the alligator's mouth and walked towards his house. On his way he met some men and told them what had happened to him, and as soon as he got home he told his wife and children, and the moment he had done so he became mad and dumb and blood came out of his mouth, and he fell down dead.
Told by Dunkní.
[Decoration]
[Decoration]
XIII.
THE UPRIGHT KING.
There was a great Mahárájá whose name was Harchand Rájá, and he had an only son called Mánikchand. He was very rich and had a great deal of money, and he also had a very large garden full of lovely flowers and fruits which he prized greatly. Every morning before he bathed he used to give some poor fakír two pounds and a half of gold. Now Harchand Mahárájá used to pray a great deal to God, and God was very fond of him, so he said one day, "To see if Harchand Mahárájá really loves me, I will make him very poor for twelve years." And at night God came down in the shape of a great boar, and ate up everything that was in Harchand Mahárájá's garden. The boar then ran away into the jungle. Next morning the gardener got up and looked out into the garden, and what was his astonishment when he saw it was all spoilt. Nothing was left in it; it was not a garden any more. He went quickly to the Mahárájá and said, "Oh, master! oh, Mahárájá! your garden is quite spoilt. Last night a boar came and ate up everything in it." "Nonsense," said the Mahárájá, who would not believe him. "It is quite true," said the gardener; "you can come and see for yourself." So the Rájá got up at once and put on his clothes, and went into the garden, and found it all empty. He went back to the house very melancholy. Then as usual he gave a fakír his two pounds and a half of gold. After breakfast he went out hunting. The boar which had run away into the wood changed himself into a very old fakír, who shook from old age. As Harchand Mahárájá passed, the old fakír held out his hand, saying, "Please give me a few pice, I am so poor and hungry." The Mahárájá said, "Come to my palace and I will give you two pounds and a half of gold." "Oh, no," said the fakír, "surely you would never give me so much as that." "Yes, I will," said the Mahárájá. "Every morning before I bathe I give a fakír two pounds and a half of gold." "Nonsense," said the fakír, "you don't give away your money in that way." "Really, I do," said the Mahárájá, "and I promise to give you two pounds and a half of gold." So the fakír followed Harchand Mahárájá home, and when they reached the palace, the Mahárájá told his treasurer to give the old fakír two pounds and a half of gold. The treasurer went into the treasury, but all the Mahárájá's gold and silver and jewels had become charcoal! The treasurer came out again to the Mahárájá saying, "Oh, Mahárájá, all your gold and silver and jewels are turned into charcoal!" "Oh, nonsense," said the Mahárájá. "Come and see, Mahárájá," said the treasurer, who was in a great fright. The Mahárájá went into his treasury, and was quite sad at the sight of the charcoal. "Alas!" he said, "God has made me very poor, but still I must give this fakír his money." So he went to the fakír and said, "All my gold and silver and jewels are turned into charcoal; but I will sell my wife, and my boy, and myself, and then I will give you the money I promised you." And he went and fetched his wife and son, and left his palace, his houses, servants, and possessions.
He then went to a merchant, who bought from him his Mahárání, who was called Hírálí, that is, the diamond lady, for she was very beautiful, and her face shone like a diamond. Her hands were very small, and so were her feet. The merchant gave the Mahárájá a pound of gold for the Mahárání. Next, Harchand Mahárájá went to a cowherd and sold him his son Mánikchand. The cowherd gave him for the boy half a pound of gold. Then he went to a dom, that is, a man of a very low caste, who kept a tank into which it was his business to throw the bodies of those who died. If it was a dead man or woman, the dom took one rupee, if it was a dead child he was only paid eight annas. To this dom Harchand sold himself for a pound of gold, and he gave the two pounds and a half of gold to the fakír, who then went home. The dom said, "Will you stay by the tank for a few days while I go home and do my other work, which is weaving baskets? If any one brings you a dead body you must throw it into the water. If it is the body of a man or woman, take one rupee in payment; if it is a dead child, take eight annas; and if the bearers have got no money, take a bit of cloth. Don't forget." And the dom went away, leaving Harchand sitting by the tank.
Well, Harchand Mahárájá sat for some days by the tank, and when any one brought him dead bodies he threw them into it. For a dead man or woman he took one rupee, for a dead child eight annas, and if the bearers had no money to give him, he took some cloth. Some time had passed, and Mánikchand, the Mahárájá's son, died; so Hírálí Rání went to the cowherd to ask him for her dead child. The cowherd gave him to her, and she took him to the tank. Harchand Mahárájá was sitting by the tank, and when Hírálí Mahárání saw him she said, "I know that man is my husband, so he will not take any money for throwing his child into the water." So she went up to him and said, "Will you throw this child into the tank for me?" "Yes, I will," said Harchand Mahárájá; "only first give me eight annas." "You surely won't take any money for throwing your own son into the tank?" said the Mahárání. "You must pay me," said Harchand Mahárájá, "for I must obey the dom's orders. If you have no money, give me a piece of cloth." So the Mahárání tore off a great piece of her sárí and gave it him, and the Mahárájá took his son and threw him into the tank. As he threw him in he cried out to the king of the fishes, who was an alligator, "Take great care of this body." The king of fishes said, "I will." Then the Mahárání went back to the merchant.
And the Mahárájá caught a fish, and cooked it, and laid it by the tank, saying, "I will go and bathe and then I will eat it." So he took off his clothes and went into the tank to bathe, and when he had bathed he put on fresh clothes, and as he took hold of his fish to eat it, it slipped back alive into the water, although it had been dead and cooked. The Mahárájá sat down by the tank again, very sad. He said, "For twelve years I have found it hard to get anything to eat; how long will God keep me without food?" God was very pleased with Harchand for being so patient, for he had never complained.
Some days later God came down to earth in the shape of a man, and with him he took an angel to be his Wazír. The Wazír said to God, "Come this way and let us see who it is sitting by the tank." "No," said God, "I am too tired, I can go no further." "Do come," said the Wazír; "I want so much to go." God said, "Well, let us go." Then they walked on till they came to the place where Harchand Mahárájá was sitting, and God said to him, "Would you like to have your wife, and your son, and your kingdom back again?" "Yes, I should," said the Mahárájá; "but how can I get them?" "Tell me truly," said God, "would you like to have your kingdom back again?" "Indeed I should," said the Mahárájá. Then Mánikchand's body, which had never sunk to the bottom of the tank like the other bodies, but had always floated on the water, rose up out of the water, and Mánikchand was alive once more. The father and son embraced each other. "Now," said God, "let us go to the dom." Harchand Mahárájá agreed, and they went to the dom and asked him how much he would take for Harchand Mahárájá. The dom said, "I gave one pound of gold for him, and I will take two pounds." So they paid down the two pounds of gold. Then they went to the merchant and said to him, "How much will you take for Hírálí Rání?" The merchant said, "I gave a pound of gold for her; I will take four pounds." So they paid down the four pounds of gold, took Hírálí Rání, and went to the cowherd. "How much will you take for Mánikchand?" said they to him. "I gave half a pound of gold for him," answered the cowherd; "I will take one pound." So they paid down the pound of gold, and Harchand Mahárájá went home to his palace, taking with him Hírálí Rání and Mánikchand, after thanking the strange man for his goodness to them. When they reached the palace, the garden was in splendid beauty; the charcoal was turned back into gold, and silver, and jewels; the servants were in waiting as usual, and they went into the palace and lived happily for evermore.
Told by Dunkní.
[Decoration]
[Decoration]
XIV.
LOVING LAILÍ.
Once there was a king called King Dantál, who had a great many rupees and soldiers and horses. He had also an only son called Prince Majnún, who was a handsome boy with white teeth, red lips, blue eyes, red cheeks, red hair, and a white skin. This boy was very fond of playing with the Wazír's son, Husain Mahámat, in King Dantál's garden, which was very large and full of delicious fruits, and flowers, and trees. They used to take their little knives there and cut the fruits and eat them. King Dantál had a teacher for them to teach them to read and write.
One day, when they were grown two fine young men, Prince Majnún said to his father, "Husain Mahámat and I should like to go and hunt." His father said they might go, so they got ready their horses and all else they wanted for their hunting, and went to the Phaláná country, hunting all the way, but they only found jackals and birds.
The Rájá of the Phaláná country was called Múnsúk Rájá, and he had a daughter named Lailí, who was very beautiful; she had brown eyes and black hair.
One night, some time before Prince Majnún came to her father's kingdom, as she slept, God sent to her an angel in the form of a man who told her that she should marry Prince Majnún and no one else, and that this was God's command to her. When Lailí woke she told her father of the angel's visit to her as she slept; but her father paid no attention to her story. From that time she began repeating, "Majnún, Majnún; I want Majnún," and would say nothing else. Even as she sat and ate her food she kept saying, "Majnún, Majnún; I want Majnún." Her father used to get quite vexed with her. "Who is this Majnún? who ever heard of this Majnún?" he would say. "He is the man I am to marry," said Lailí. "God has ordered me to marry no one but Majnún." And she was half mad. Meanwhile, Majnún and Husain Mahámat came to hunt in the Phaláná country; and as they were riding about, Lailí came out on her horse to eat the air, and rode behind them. All the time she kept saying, "Majnún, Majnún; I want Majnún." The prince heard her, and turned round. "Who is calling me?" he asked. At this Lailí looked at him, and the moment she saw him she fell deeply in love with him, and she said to herself, "I am sure that is the Prince Majnún that God says I am to marry." And she went home to her father and said, "Father, I wish to marry the prince who has come to your kingdom; for I know he is the Prince Majnún I am to marry." "Very well, you shall have him for your husband," said Múnsúk Rájá. "We will ask him to-morrow." Lailí consented to wait, although she was very impatient. As it happened, the prince left the Phaláná kingdom that night, and when Lailí heard he was gone, she went quite mad. She would not listen to a word her father, or her mother, or her servants said to her, but went off into the jungle, and wandered from jungle to jungle, till she got farther and farther away from her own country. All the time she kept saying, "Majnún, Majnún; I want Majnún;" and so she wandered about for twelve years.
At the end of the twelve years she met a fakír--he was really an angel, but she did not know this--who asked her, "Why do you always say, 'Majnún, Majnún; I want Majnún'?" She answered, "I am the daughter of the king of the Phaláná country, and I want to find Prince Majnún; tell me where his kingdom is." "I think you will never get there," said the fakír, "for it is very far from hence, and you have to cross many rivers to reach it." But Lailí said she did not care; she must see Prince Majnún. "Well," said the fakír, "when you come to the Bhágírathí river you will see a big fish, a Rohú; and you must get him to carry you to Prince Majnún's country, or you will never reach it."
She went on and on, and at last she came to the Bhágírathí river. There there was a great big fish called the Rohú fish. It was yawning just as she got up to it, and she instantly jumped down its throat into its stomach. All the time she kept saying, "Majnún, Majnún." At this the Rohú fish was greatly alarmed and swam down the river as fast as he could. By degrees he got tired and went slower, and a crow came and perched on his back, and said, "Caw, caw." "Oh, Mr. Crow," said the poor fish, "do see what is in my stomach that makes such a noise." "Very well," said the crow, "open your mouth wide, and I'll fly down and see." So the Rohú opened his jaws and the crow flew down, but he came up again very quickly. "You have a Rakshas in your stomach," said the crow, and he flew away. This news did not comfort the poor Rohú, and he swam on and on till he came to Prince Majnún's country. There he stopped. And a jackal came down to the river to drink. "Oh, jackal," said the Rohú, "do tell me what I have inside me." "How can I tell?" said the jackal. "I cannot see unless I go inside you." So the Rohú opened his mouth wide, and the jackal jumped down his throat; but he came up very quickly, looking much frightened and saying, "You have a Rakshas in your stomach, and if I don't run away quickly, I am afraid it will eat me." So off he ran. After the jackal came an enormous snake. "Oh," says the fish, "do tell me what I have in my stomach, for it rattles about so, and keeps saying, 'Majnún, Majnún; I want Majnún.'" The snake said, "Open your mouth wide, and I'll go down and see what it is." The snake went down: when he returned he said, "You have a Rakshas in your stomach; but if you will let me cut you open, it will come out of you." "If you do that, I shall die," said the Rohú. "Oh, no," said the snake, "you will not, for I will give you a medicine that will make you quite well again." So the fish agreed, and the snake got a knife and cut him open, and out jumped Lailí.
She was now very old. Twelve years she had wandered about the jungle, and for twelve years she had lived inside her Rohú; and she was no longer beautiful, and had lost her teeth. The snake took her on his back and carried her into the country, and there he put her down, and she wandered on and on till she got to Majnún's court-house, where King Majnún was sitting. There some men heard her crying, "Majnún, Majnún; I want Majnún," and they asked her what she wanted. "I want King Majnún," she said. So they went in and said to Prince Majnún, "An old woman outside says she wants you." "I cannot leave this place," said he; "send her in here." They brought her in and the prince asked her what she wanted. "I want to marry you," she answered. "Twenty-four years ago you came to my father the Phaláná Rájá's country, and I wanted to marry you then; but you went away without marrying me. Then I went mad, and I have wandered about all these years looking for you." Prince Majnún said, "Very good." "Pray to God," said Lailí, "to make us both young again, and then we shall be married." So the prince prayed to God, and God said to him, "Touch Lailí's clothes and they will catch fire, and when they are on fire, she and you will become young again." When he touched Lailí's clothes they caught fire, and she and he became young again. And there were great feasts, and they were married, and travelled to the Phaláná country to see her father and mother.
Now Lailí's father and mother had wept so much for their daughter that they had become quite blind, and her father kept always repeating, "Lailí, Lailí, Lailí." When Lailí saw their blindness, she prayed to God to restore their sight to them, which he did. As soon as the father and mother saw Lailí, they hugged her and kissed her, and then they had the wedding all over again amid great rejoicings. Prince Majnún and Lailí stayed with Múnsúk Rájá and his wife for three years, and then they returned to King Dantál, and lived happily for some time with him.
They used to go out hunting, and they often went from country to country to eat the air and amuse themselves.
One day Prince Majnún said to Lailí, "Let us go through this jungle." "No, no," said Lailí; "if we go through this jungle, some harm will happen to me." But Prince Majnún laughed, and went into the jungle. And as they were going through it, God thought, "I should like to know how much Prince Majnún loves his wife. Would he be very sorry if she died? And would he marry another wife? I will see." So he sent one of his angels in the form of a fakír into the jungle; and the angel went up to Lailí, and threw some powder in her face, and instantly she fell to the ground a heap of ashes.
Prince Majnún was in great sorrow and grief when he saw his dear Lailí turn into a little heap of ashes; and he went straight home to his father, and for a long, long time he would not be comforted. After a great many years he grew more cheerful and happy, and began to go again into his father's beautiful garden with Husain Mahámat. King Dantál wished his son to marry again. "I will only have Lailí for my wife; I will not marry any other woman," said Prince Majnún. "How can you marry Lailí? Lailí is dead. She will never come back to you," said the father. "Then I'll not have any wife at all," said Prince Majnún.
Meanwhile Lailí was living in the jungle where her husband had left her a little heap of ashes. As soon as Majnún had gone, the fakír had taken her ashes and made them quite clean, and then he had mixed clay and water with the ashes, and made the figure of a woman with them, and so Lailí regained her human form, and God sent life into it. But Lailí had become once more a hideous old woman, with a long, long nose, and teeth like tusks; just such an old woman, excepting her teeth, as she had been when she came out of the Rohú fish; and she lived in the jungle, and neither ate nor drank, and she kept on saying, "Majnún, Majnún; I want Majnún."
At last the angel who had come as a fakír and thrown the powder at her, said to God, "Of what use is it that this woman should sit in the jungle crying, crying for ever, 'Majnún, Majnún; I want Majnún,' and eating and drinking nothing? Let me take her to Prince Majnún." "Well," said God, "you may do so; but tell her that she must not speak to Majnún if he is afraid of her when he sees her; and that if he is afraid when he sees her, she will become a little white dog the next day. Then she must go to the palace, and she will only regain her human shape when Prince Majnún loves her, feeds her with his own food, and lets her sleep in his bed." So the angel came to Lailí again as a fakír and carried her to King Dantál's garden. "Now," he said, "it is God's command that you stay here till Prince Majnún comes to walk in the garden, and then you may show yourself to him. But you must not speak to him, if he is afraid of you; and should he be afraid of you, you will the next day become a little white dog." He then told her what she must do as a little dog to regain her human form.
Lailí stayed in the garden, hidden in the tall grass, till Prince Majnún and Husain Mahámat came to walk in the garden. King Dantál was now a very old man, and Husain Mahámat, though he was really only as old as Prince Majnún, looked a great deal older than the prince, who had been made quite young again when he married Lailí.
As Prince Majnún and the Wazír's son walked in the garden, they gathered the fruit as they had done as little children, only they bit the fruit with their teeth; they did not cut it. While Majnún was busy eating a fruit in this way, and was talking to Husain Mahámat, he turned towards him and saw Lailí walking behind the Wazír's son. "Oh, look, look!" he cried, "see what is following you; it is a Rakshas or a demon, and I am sure it is going to eat us." Lailí looked at him beseechingly with all her eyes, and trembled with age and eagerness; but this only frightened Majnún the more. "It is a Rakshas, a Rakshas!" he cried, and he ran quickly to the palace with the Wazír's son; and as they ran away, Lailí disappeared into the jungle. They ran to King Dantál, and Majnún told him there was a Rakshas or a demon in the garden that had come to eat them. "What nonsense," said his father. "Fancy two grown men being so frightened by an old ayah or a fakír! And if it had been a Rakshas, it would not have eaten you." Indeed King Dantál did not believe Majnún had seen anything at all, till Husain Mahámat said the prince was speaking the exact truth. They had the garden searched for the terrible old woman, but found nothing, and King Dantál told his son he was very silly to be so much frightened. However, Prince Majnún would not walk in the garden any more.
The next day Lailí turned into a pretty little dog; and in this shape she came into the palace, where Prince Majnún soon became very fond of her. She followed him everywhere, went with him when he was out hunting, and helped him to catch his game, and Prince Majnún fed her with milk, or bread, or anything else he was eating, and at night the little dog slept in his bed.