Chapter 9

But one night the little dog disappeared, and in its stead there lay the little old woman who had frightened him so much in the garden; and now Prince Majnún was quite sure she was a Rakshas, or a demon, or some such horrible thing come to eat him; and in his terror he cried out, "What do you want? Oh, do not eat me; do not eat me!" Poor Lailí answered, "Don't you know me? I am your wife Lailí, and I want to marry you. Don't you remember how you would go through that jungle, though I begged and begged you not to go, for I told you that harm would happen to me, and then a fakír came and threw powder in my face, and I became a heap of ashes. But God gave me my life again, and brought me here, after I had stayed a long, long while in the jungle crying for you, and now I am obliged to be a little dog; but if you will marry me, I shall not be a little dog any more." Majnún, however, said "How can I marry an old woman like you? how can you be Lailí? I am sure you are a Rakshas or a demon come to eat me," and he was in great terror.

In the morning the old woman had turned into the little dog, and the prince went to his father and told him all that had happened. "An old woman! an old woman! always an old woman!" said his father. "You do nothing but think of old women. How can a strong man like you be so easily frightened?" However, when he saw that his son was really in great terror, and that he really believed the old woman would come back at night, he advised him to say to her, "I will marry you if you can make yourself a young girl again. How can I marry such an old woman as you are?"

That night as he lay trembling in bed the little old woman lay there in place of the dog, crying, "Majnún, Majnún, I want to marry you. I have loved you all these long, long years. When I was in my father's kingdom a young girl, I knew of you, though you knew nothing of me, and we should have been married then if you had not gone away so suddenly, and for long, long years I followed you." "Well," said Majnún, "if you can make yourself a young girl again, I will marry you."

Lailí said, "Oh, that is quite easy. God will make me a young girl again. In two days' time you must go into the garden, and there you will see a beautiful fruit. You must gather it and bring it into your room and cut it open yourself very gently, and you must not open it when your father or anybody else is with you, but when you are quite alone; for I shall be in the fruit quite naked, without any clothes at all on." In the morning Lailí took her little dog's form, and disappeared in the garden.

Prince Majnún told all this to his father, who told him to do all the old woman had bidden him. In two days' time he and the Wazír's son walked in the garden, and there they saw a large, lovely red fruit. "Oh!" said the Prince, "I wonder shall I find my wife in that fruit." Husain Mahámat wanted him to gather it and see, but he would not till he had told his father, who said, "That must be the fruit; go and gather it." So Majnún went back and broke the fruit off its stalk; and he said to his father, "Come with me to my room while I open it; I am afraid to open it alone, for perhaps I shall find a Rakshas in it that will eat me." "No," said King Dantál; "remember, Lailí will be naked; you must go alone, and do not be afraid if, after all, a Rakshas is in the fruit, for I will stay outside the door, and you have only to call me with a loud voice, and I will come to you, so the Rakshas will not be able to eat you."

Then Majnún took the fruit and began to cut it open tremblingly, for he shook with fear; and when he had cut it, out stepped Lailí, young and far more beautiful than she had ever been. At the sight of her extreme beauty, Majnún fell backwards fainting on the floor.

Lailí took off his turban and wound it all round herself like a sárí (for she had no clothes at all on), and then she called King Dantál, and said to him sadly, "Why has Majnún fallen down like this? Why will he not speak to me? He never used to be afraid of me; and he has seen me so many, many times." King Dantál answered, "It is because you are so beautiful. You are far, far more beautiful than you ever were. But he will be very happy directly." Then the King got some water, and they bathed Majnún's face and gave him some to drink, and he sat up again. Then Lailí said, "Why did you faint? Did you not see I am Lailí?" "Oh!" said Prince Majnún, "I see you are Lailí come back to me, but your eyes have grown so wonderfully beautiful, that I fainted when I saw them." Then they were all very happy, and King Dantál had all the drums in the place beaten, and had all the musical instruments played on, and they made a grand wedding-feast, and gave presents to the servants, and rice and quantities of rupees to the fakírs.

After some time had passed very happily, Prince Majnún and his wife went out to eat the air. They rode on the same horse, and had only a groom with them. They came to another kingdom, to a beautiful garden. "We must go into that garden and see it," said Majnún. "No, no," said Lailí; "it belongs to a bad Rájá, Chumman Básá, a very wicked man." But Majnún insisted on going in, and in spite of all Lailí could say, he got off the horse to look at the flowers. Now, as he was looking at the flowers, Lailí saw Chumman Básá coming towards them, and she read in his eyes that he meant to kill her husband and seize her. So she said to Majnún, "Come, come, let us go; do not go near that bad man. I see in his eyes, and I feel in my heart, that he will kill you to seize me." "What nonsense," said Majnún. "I believe he is a very good Rájá. Anyhow, I am so near to him that I could not get away." "Well," said Lailí, "it is better that you should be killed than I, for if I were to be killed a second time, God would not give me my life again; but I can bring you to life if you are killed." Now Chumman Básá had come quite near, and seemed very pleasant, so thought Prince Majnún; but when he was speaking to Majnún, he drew his scimitar and cut off the prince's head at one blow.

Lailí sat quite still on her horse, and as the Rájá came towards her she said, "Why did you kill my husband?" "Because I want to take you," he answered. "You cannot," said Lailí. "Yes, I can," said the Rájá. "Take me, then," said Lailí to Chumman Básá; so he came quite close and put out his hand to take hers to lift her off her horse. But she put her hand in her pocket and pulled out a tiny knife, only as long as her hand was broad, and this knife unfolded itself in one instant till it was such a length! and then Lailí made a great sweep with her arm and her long, long knife, and off came Chumman Básá's head at one touch.

Then Lailí slipped down off her horse, and she went to Majnún's dead body, and she cut her little finger inside her hand straight down from the top of her nail to her palm, and out of this gushed blood like healing medicine. Then she put Majnún's head on his shoulders, and smeared her healing blood all over the wound, and Majnún woke up and said, "What a delightful sleep I have had! Why, I feel as if I had slept for years!" Then he got up and saw the Rájá's dead body by Lailí's horse. "What's that?" said Majnún. "That is the wicked Rájá who killed you to seize me, just as I said he would." "Who killed him?" asked Majnún. "I did," answered Lailí, "and it was I who brought you to life." "Do bring the poor man to life if you know how to do so," said Majnún. "No," said Lailí, "for he is a wicked man, and will try to do you harm." But Majnún asked her for such a long time, and so earnestly to bring the wicked Rájá to life, that at last she said, "Jump up on the horse, then, and go far away with the groom." "What will you do," said Majnún, "if I leave you? I cannot leave you." "I will take care of myself," said Lailí; "but this man is so wicked, he may kill you again if you are near him." So Majnún got up on the horse, and he and the groom went a long way off and waited for Lailí. Then she set the wicked Rájá's head straight on his shoulders, and she squeezed the wound in her finger till a little blood-medicine came out of it. Then she smeared this over the place where her knife had passed, and just as she saw the Rájá opening his eyes, she began to run, and she ran, and ran so fast, that she outran the Rájá, who tried to catch her; and she sprang up on the horse behind her husband, and they rode so fast, so fast, till they reached King Dantál's palace.

There Prince Majnún told everything to his father, who was horrified and angry. "How lucky for you that you have such a wife," he said. "Why did you not do what she told you? But for her, you would be now dead." Then he made a great feast out of gratitude for his son's safety, and gave many, many rupees to the fakírs. And he made so much of Lailí. He loved her dearly; he could not do enough for her. Then he built a splendid palace for her and his son, with a great deal of ground about it, and lovely gardens, and gave them great wealth, and heaps of servants to wait on them. But he would not allow any but their servants to enter their gardens and palace, and he would not allow Majnún to go out of them, nor Lailí; "for," said King Dantál, "Lailí is so beautiful, that perhaps some one may kill my son to take her away."

Told by Dunkní.

[Decoration]

XV.

HOW KING BURTAL BECAME A FAKÍR.

Once there was a great king called Burtal, and he had a hundred and sixty wives, but he had no children, which made him sad. One day he said to his wives, "I am going to a very distant jungle which is full of antelopes, to hunt them." "Very well," they answered, "go." So he went. In that jungle lived neither tigers nor men, but only antelopes. When King Burtal reached the jungle, some of the antelopes came to him and said, "Pray don't kill the black antelope, for he is our Rájá, and we have no other antelope like him among us; but try to kill any of the others--the brown or the yellow antelopes--that you choose." Now, the king was not a kind man, and he said, "I will kill your black antelope, and no other." So he shot him dead. When the other antelopes saw this they began to scream and cry with sorrow. But the dead antelope's wife said to them, "There is a holy man, a fakír, in the jungle. Let us take the dead body to him and ask him to bring our Rájá to life." And King Burtal laughed at them and said, "How can any man bring a dead antelope to life?" But the antelopes took the body of their dead Rájá on their backs, and the dead antelope's wife went at their head; and King Burtal went too; and they carried it to the fakír, who was called Goraknáth, and who was resting in the jungle, and they said to him, "Bring our Rájá to life again, for what can we do without a Rájá? and he has left no son to succeed him." And the queen antelope said, "I have no other husband. I had only this one husband. Do bring him to life for me." King Burtal laughed and mocked them, and said to the fakír, "I never heard of any man being able to bring a dead antelope to life. I don't believe you can do it." At this Goraknáth got angry, and he knelt down and asked God to bring the antelope to life; and God told him to take a wand and beat the dead antelope with it, and then the antelope would be alive again. So Goraknáth took a wand and beat the dead antelope, and it was alive once more, and then it instantly sprang up into heaven. The antelopes were delighted to see their Rájá alive again, and they said, "We do not mind his going up to heaven, for he will come down again to us."

King Burtal had stood by all the time, and he said to Goraknáth, "Make me a fakír like yourself," for he thought it would be fine to do such wonderful things. But Goraknáth would not, and King Burtal stayed in the jungle with Goraknáth for twelve years, and all that time he never ceased begging and praying to be made a fakír, till at last Goraknáth said, "I cannot make you a fakír unless you go home and address your wives as 'Mamma,' and ask them to give you money and food." Now, it is a very shameful thing to call one's wife 'Mamma,' for if a wife is called 'Mamma' she has to leave her husband. Then Goraknáth took off the king's clothes, and dressed him only in a cloth and a tiger's skin; and the king went to his palace and began begging for rice and food, and he would not take any from the palace servants: he said he must and would see the Ránís, and that they themselves should give him food. The servants told the Ránís about this fakír who said he must and would see them himself, and that they should give him food and rice with their own hands, and one of their ayahs, who had recognized King Burtal, told them the fakír was their husband who had been away twelve years. The Ránís cried out, "Do not talk nonsense. That fakír can never be our husband." "Go and see for yourselves," answered the ayah. They went, and the fakír said to them, "Mamma, give me rice." "Why do you call us 'Mamma'?" they said. "We have no sons. You are not our son." But at last they saw he was indeed their husband, and they wrung their hands and wept bitterly, and threw themselves on the ground before him and said, "Why have you called us 'Mamma'? Why do you ask for bread? We must now leave you." "Don't go away," said the king. "Take my kingdom, my money, my houses, and stay here till I return. I am going to be a fakír." His wives gave him some rice and some money, and he went back to Goraknáth.

In old days men who intended to become fakírs had to do three tasks set them by one who was already a fakír; so Goraknáth said to the king, "Now you must go to a jungle that I will show you, and stay there for twelve years." Then King Burtal took the flat pan and the rolling-pin which he used in making his flour cakes, and was quite ready to start for the jungle, but the fakír stopped him. "You must leave your pan and your rolling-pin behind," he said; "and all these twelve years you must neither eat nor drink, or you can never be a fakír. You must sit quite still on the same spot and never move." "I shall die if I don't eat," said the king; "but I don't care if I do die, so I will do all you tell me." Then the fakír took him to a jungle, and made him sit down on the grass, and instantly all the grass round him grew up so tall and thick that King Burtal was quite hidden by it, and no one could see him. Here he lived for twelve years, and never moved, and he ate nothing, and drank nothing, and nobody knew he was there.

At the end of that time Goraknáth came and took him away and said, "Now go home to your wives." "Why should I go to my wives? I do not wish to see my wives, for they have given me no children," said King Burtal. But Goraknáth said, "Go and see them." So King Burtal went; and he begged for rice from them; and they entreated him to stay with them, but he would not. "I will return to the fakír Goraknáth," he said. "Why should I stay with you? You have never given me a child. What use is all my wealth to me? I have no son to take it when I am dead. I will become a fakír." And they threw themselves on the ground and wrung their hands, and said, "Oh, why will you leave us?" He answered, "Because it pleases me to do so." And he called them all "Mamma," and told them to stay in his palace and take all he possessed for their own use. Then he returned to Goraknáth.

"Now," said Goraknáth, "you must learn to be sweeper to all the beasts of the jungle, and you must serve them for twelve years." So for twelve years King Burtal cleared the grass and kept the jungle clean for all the creatures in it--cows, sheep, goats, tigers, cats, bears. Sometimes he stayed in one part of the jungle, and sometimes in another.

When the twelve years were over he went to Goraknáth, who said to him, "Good; you have learnt to serve the wild beasts; now you must learn to serve men." Then the fakír took the king to a village, and bade him sweep it and keep it clean for twelve years. Here King Burtal stayed for another twelve years, and all that time he was the village-sweeper and kept the village clean, and he swept all the dust and dirt into a great heap till the heap was as high and as big as a hut.

When the twelve years were over he returned to Goraknáth and stood before him, and as he stood there came a man who was an angel sent by God, and he threw some dirt on King Burtal's head; but the king never moved nor spoke. "Now," cried Goraknáth, "I see you are a true fakír: go and cleanse yourself by bathing in the river."

The river in which he was sent to bathe was the Jamná. In this river lived water-nymphs, and the nymph Gangá was playing in it when her sister Jamná[3] came to her and said, "Come quickly; our father is dying and wants to see you;" and off Jamná went to her father. Gangá was hurrying after her when King Burtal saw her, and stopped her, and asked her where she was going so fast. "To my father, who is very ill and dying," said Gangá; "let me go." "I will not let you go," said King Burtal. Then Gangá began to run, and said, "You cannot keep me, you cannot catch me; no man can catch me, no man can keep me." This provoked King Burtal, and he said, "I can catch you, and I can keep you." "No, no," she answered; "no one can catch me, no one can hold me." Then King Burtal got quite vexed, and he ran till he caught her, and then he said, "Now, I will not let you go; I will keep you." Then he held her in his hands and rubbed her between his palms, and when he opened his hands she had turned into a little round ball. He tried to hide the ball in his hair, but could not, for his hair was too short, and he found he could not hold Gangá, as she was too strong for him; so he thought he would take her to Mahádeo,[4] who had long thick hair, and make him keep her, for King Burtal was dreadfully frightened and did not dare let the ball go, for fear Gangá, who he knew was very angry, should take her own form and bring a great flood to drown him. So he went quickly to Mahádeo, and gave the ball to him. Mahádeo said, "Why not keep her yourself?" "I cannot," said King Burtal, "for my hair is too short to tie her into; and I cannot hold her, for she is too strong for me; but your hair is long, and so you can hide her in it." Then Mahádeo had a round box made of bamboo, and in this box was a hole into which he dropped the ball. And he let down his long hair, and it reached to the ground, and was thick--so thick; he put the box in his hair on the top of his head, and rolled his long hair all round his head and over the box just like a turban.

Jamná finding her sister did not follow her, came up from the bottom of the river to look for her, and she asked whether any one had seen her, and at last some one said, "King Burtal has taken her away." Jamná set off to King Burtal and said, "Give me my sister Gangá, for our father is dying and wants to see her." "It is true that I took her away," said King Burtal, "but I have not got her now; she is with Mahádeo." So Jamná went to Mahádeo,--"Give me my sister quickly, for our father is dying and wants to see her." (Now Gangá was in a great passion inside her box.) "I cannot give you Gangá," said Mahádeo, "for she is so angry that if I let her loose she will flood the country with water." "No, she will not; indeed, she will not," said Jamná. "If I give her to you, you will not be able to keep her," said Mahádeo. "Yes, yes, I shall," said Jamná. "I do not think you will," said Mahádeo; "but here is the box in which said is. Hold it tight, and be careful that neither you nor any one else mentions her name on the journey." Jamná said she would be very careful, and took the box; but she had to pass through a jungle in which were a number of cowherds and holy men, one of whom was called Gangá. Just as Jamná passed by, one of these men called to this man by his name, Gangá, and instantly Gangá burst the box and flooded the country with water. The holy men and the cowherd called to her to have pity on them, and so did Jamná; but Gangá was too angry to listen to them or speak to them, so she drowned all the holy men and the cowherds, and when she got to her father's house and found he was dead, she was in such a rage that she declared she would send a still greater flood to ruin the country; and so she did.

After this, King Burtal went to Goraknáth and stayed with him some years, till Goraknáth said, "Now go to your own kingdom." But King Burtal refused, saying, "I wish to stay with you; my wives have never given me a child. I have no son. I do not care to return to my kingdom." However, Goraknáth would not allow him to stay. "Go to your own kingdom," he said again; "but first tell me how many wives you have." "A hundred and sixty," answered the King. "Here are a hundred and sixty líchí fruits for you," said the fakír. "Give one to each of your wives to eat, and they will each have a son, and I will go with you." So King Burtal obeyed, and Goraknáth went with him.

Seventy years had passed since King Burtal had left his kingdom. When he and Goraknáth reached it, they went to an open plain and made a fire and sat down beside it. Everybody who passed them said, "Who are these fakírs?" Some servants of King Burtal's Ránís passed too, and when they got home they told the Ránís that their husband had returned to his kingdom. But the Ránís said, "What nonsense you talk! King Burtal went away with the fakír Goraknáth." The servants answered, "We are quite sure that King Burtal is here, for Goraknáth is here, and with him is another man, and we are sure this man is King Burtal." So all the Ránís went to see for themselves, and when they saw the fakír that was with Goraknáth they knew he was their husband. Then the first Rání, who was very angry with him for having left them, said a spell over him: "God is very angry with you for leaving us, and he will send you a bad illness." But King Burtal answered, "Do not be angry with me. I am your husband, and have come back to you after an absence of seventy years." At this the youngest Rání was very glad, and she ordered drums to be beaten and she beat a drum herself, and they sang songs, and all went to the palace together, and Goraknáth with them.

Then Goraknáth said he must now go away, but first he asked King Burtal to show him a grand feat as a proof of his skill. So King Burtal sent to the smith for a great iron chain. Then he lit a big fire. This alarmed the palace servants, who wondered if he were going to burn his palace and his wives. King Burtal next sent for some ghee. "What is he going to do with the ghee?" said the palace servants. Then he drove a nail into the wall, rubbed his hands with the ghee, put the iron chain into the fire and drew it out red-hot; flames came from the iron. Then King Burtal hung it on the nail and pulled and pulled at the chain till he drew it off the nail, and his hands were not in the least burnt. The Ránís and palace servants were greatly astonished and Goraknáth much pleased. "You know how to do your work well," said he to the king. Then Goraknáth bade him good bye, telling him to look after his kingdom and his wives; but they all said he must not leave them, and they built him a grand house in the compound, and gave him a great many servants to wait on him, and plenty of money; so Goraknáth agreed to live in this house; only, as he was a fakír, he often went away by himself to spend some time in his jungle, always returning to his house in King Burtal's compound. Meanwhile King Burtal gave each of his wives a líchí to eat, and after a little while each wife had a little son. They were all such beautiful children; but the biggest and handsomest of all was the eldest Rání's little son. His name was Sazádá, and his father and mother loved him dearly.