Part 5

“Oh!” replied the Farmer, “that is easily done;” so that very night he went into the jungle and lay down as if dead. Presently the Jackal made his appearance, and smelling along he came close up to the body. Then he hesitated and said, “I wonder if this is really a dead body or not.” He then called out audibly, “If it is really dead it will shake its leg, and if it is alive it won’t do so.” This he said so quickly and so artfully that the Farmer was taken aback, and to make him believe he _was_ dead he at once stupidly shook his leg, and off skipped the Jackal, saying, “I caught you there,” and was lost to view in an instant.

The Farmer, who was very avaricious, and wanted the jewels badly, made up his mind that he would by hook or by crook make sure of the Jackal on the next occasion; so this time he prepared of the softest wax a doll of the size of a child, and digging a small grave and covering it over with leaves and mud, he waited in hiding to see the result.

Shortly after sunset the Jackal began to prowl about as usual, and coming on the new grave he said to himself, “Ah! this is someone lately buried; I will try my luck here.” He then began to scratch with his paw, and presently one paw got caught in the wax, and in trying to get that away, all four became stuck with the wax, when in a moment out came the Farmer from his hiding-place and said, “Ah! at last I have got you, and you are my prisoner!” The Jackal yelled and howled, and endeavoured to escape, but was hindered by the wax on his feet; so then he took to frightening the Farmer, and said, “If you do not get me out of this scrape I will call all the Jackals in a moment of time, and they will destroy you for ever, for do you not know that I am the ‘king’ of the Jackals?”

“What am I to do?” asked the Farmer. “Go!” he said; “go and get some oil, and rub it all over me; then get a fowl, and tie it about fifty yards away, and bring two men with hatchets to stand over me, so that if I attempt to get away they may chop me to pieces!”

This being done by the Farmer, the Jackal while being held in his hands sought his opportunity, and being well greased all over, he made a violent spring and so got clear of the Farmer; then he dashed between the legs of the men with hatchets, when they made a plunge at him, but they only succeeded in hurting their own legs, so the Jackal got finally off, and picking up the fowl he was soon lost to view, and so won the day.

EXPLANATORY NOTES.

“_Crocodile._”—The word used in the original Punjabi was “Sainsar,” literally the “Gavial,” or rather “gharial.” This animal is called “Timsah” in Arabic, but as this class of the Crocodiles lives usually on fish, the saurian in the tale must have been unusually ferocious. The seizure of the leg of the Jackal by the Crocodile is common to many folk-tales throughout India, and is an indication of the general groundwork of many Aryan tales.

“_Jackal._”—So often described, it is not necessary to do more here than to refer to the fact that they usually hunt in packs. When a jackal is heard to cry without a response, the natives know that he is a lone animal and what they call “Yekaria,” and by some “yeklota,” meaning in Sanscrit “single.” This, with them, is an evil omen, and thugs and thieves give up their thoughts of plunder and pillage in the district where he is known to be.

Some of the people believe that in packs of jackals the one who gives the first cry is possessed of a small horn in his forehead, and this is termed by them “Seeâr Singhi,” (possibly from the Persian word “Seah” black, and “Singh” a Hindu title,) or the jackal’s horn. This so-called horn is much prized by the people, and is often mounted by them in silver and placed as a charm round the necks of their children. This forehead projection of the jackal is generally hawked about for sale by a low-caste set of people who are sellers also of certain oils, such as the porpoise, or “Sūs” oil, the pelican, or “Rak-ham” oil, which is in the Sanscrit language called “Gagun-bhir.” Crooke thinks that the “Seeâr Singhi” is a jungle plant which resembles a horn; others think it is really the velvety prominence from the deer, but is sold to the credulous as from the jackal.

Our saying of the “grapes are sour” is rendered by the people as the “grapes are bitter,” and the expression is used in connection with the jackal and not of the fox.

Dahkânh hâth nâh up ree Thooay kouree.

TRANSLATION.

The grapes do not come within my reach, So spit them out; they are bitter,

“_Tanks._”—In the Persian the word is “Talâb,” and in the original in Punjabi it is “Surr,” a Sanscrit word signifying a large pond or tank. A small tank in Punjabi is called a “Bunni.”

There is hardly a tank in India that is not more or less associated in the minds of the people with some legend, and many are held sacred to one or other of their titulary gods and goddesses.

Some tanks are supposed to contain treasure which is reserved under the custody of a Yaksha, or sprite.

—_Crooke._

In Hindu mythology “Yaksha” is an attendant upon “Kuvēra,” the god of wealth. The name is said to be derived from “Yaksha” to worship. As with the Brownies in Scotland they are called “Punya-jana” or good people, but they are sometimes imps of evil.

—_Williams’_ “Nala”; also _Dowson_.

FAITH OPPOSED TO MAGIC.

There is a hill in the Hazara district of the Punjab known to all by the name of “Gundghur,” which in days gone by was a stronghold of Banditti. It was well elevated above the plain, and on its crest there were several projecting rocks, and there were caves among the rocks. In one of these caves dwelt a Hindu Fakir of the begging mendicant class, who had for a long time established himself there, and used to come out and sit on a large rock called “Pīr Thân.”

This Fakir had the reputation of being able to produce wonderful effects by the aid of his magic and enchantments, could cure serious diseases, and when he liked he would say his Ram! Ram! song; for Rama was among the avatara of Vishnu, and he would then ascend into the skies, and go completely out of sight.

Such a Fakir was in consequence much feared by the people of the place, and indeed in many villages round about. Most of the people living near the Hill were “Gujors,” or Mahomedan keepers of Cattle, and from whom the province of Gujerat was named, and it sometimes happened that their milk did not set properly; so they used to go to the Fakir who soon made everything right, and though he was a Hindu and they Mahomedans, yet they went to consult him.

It so happened that one day another Fakir, a Mahomedan, who was on his round visiting various shrines and the relics of departed Saints, came to this “Ghazi” village, which was situated at the foot of the hill.

It was not long before he was told by the people of the wonderful doings of the Hindu Fakir who dwelt on the “Pīr Thân”; how that he could cure all diseases, and above all, that he could by his magic go up into the air and depart out of sight.

“He is very good too,” they said, “to us, for when our milk refuses to set, he soon makes matters right for us, and so we are going to him to-morrow morning about this very thing.”

“You are! are you?” said the Mahomedan Fakir; and he was very angry with them and said, “Now you wait, and you will see that this very night your milk will be all as it should be.” True enough, when the morning broke the milk was properly set.

“Now,” said the Fakir, “why do you put your faith in this “pagan” and “idolater” who does not believe in Allah? And as for the stories you tell me, they are not to be credited, and what he does is by trickery and deceit.” With many other words he exhorted his followers not to be imposed upon. Turning to the Hindus he said, “If _you_ choose to ruin yourselves that is your affair and not mine.”

His followers, however, besought him just for once to come and see if what they said was not true. He replied, “Well! you may all go, and if I come at all, it will be later on.”

So all the people from the village, and from the villages round about, went up to the Gundghur Hill, to see the wonders that this Hindu Fakir could do. There was a large concourse of people, so the Mahomedan Fakir thought that he might slip in unperceived; and overcome too with curiosity, he had determined to see what sort of a man the Hindu Fakir was who had carried off so many people as his followers.

They had all gone to the Gundghur Hill, and the Mahomedan Fakir thought, “I will go now and see what is to be seen.” On arrival there he noticed that there was a vast assemblage of people. Looking round he saw a knot of his own followers seated together, so he joined himself to them, and waited to see what would take place.

He was not, however, unobserved by the Hindu Fakir, who, after receiving an ovation from all his adherents, addressed himself in a loud voice to the multitude around, and pointing to the Mahomedan Fakir he said, “I see here a Mahomedan Fakir of a false and wicked faith, and I tell him, as I tell you all, that as two swords cannot go into one scabbard, so neither can two Fakirs live in one and the same spot, and he that proves himself to be master, let him hold the hill.”

The enthusiasm was very great when he had uttered these words, and his own people called out, “Ascend, oh! Fakir, and put this new man to shame.” He replied, “I will; and if he can surpass me in that, I will give place to him and go away and leave you.”

Whereupon, divesting himself before them all of his garments, with the exception of his waist-cloth, and repeating audibly his “Junthur Munthur” (two Sanscrit words meaning “incantation,”) and some other words of enchantment, and then kindling a small fire he made some passes over it, and in the smoke that it made he gradually rose and vanished out of sight.

“Ah! there goes our wonderful Fakir!” said all the Hindus; “and as for this other wretched man, he does not look as if he could do anything wonderful.”

In a measure they were right, for the Mahomedan Fakir when he witnessed his ascent, was at his wits’ end to know how to prevail against such a rival. Collecting, however, a few of his own followers around him, he drew out his “Qoran” from its case. Then opening it with great caution and solemnity, he took off the shoe from his right foot, and threw it into the air with all his might. To the bewilderment of all, the shoe did not return, but seemed to go also into the skies whither the Hindu Fakir had gone. The Hindus then raised a cry: “What is a shoe compared to a man! Go up yourself, and we will believe in you!” In patience did the Mahomedan Fakir bear their reproaches, when suddenly there was a sound heard in the air as if someone was beating a door with the palm of his hand, and very shortly afterwards the body of the Hindu Fakir came in sight, and as it descended, there was seen over his head the shoe of the Mahomedan Fakir, which in some unaccountable way was slapping the head of the Hindu Fakir, and beating him down to the earth, and when he came to the ground he fell at the feet of the Mahomedan. Stunned and confused the Hindu made a rush for his cave, and holding up his hands he repeated audibly some words of enchantment, and then fled precipitately into the jungle, and left that country-side for ever.

This story is told by the Mussulmen in their Hûzrâhs, as a proof that faith will always in the long run crush and destroy the power of myth and magic; and the moral is that Allah is pure and spotless, and there is none righteous as He, or, as they have it in their own language:

Khudâ pâk sub sê bhullâh.

God is pure and righteous above all.

EXPLANATORY NOTES.

“_Fakir._”—It might be added here that the word itself is derived from the Arabic “Fūkhr,” really three Arabic letters, F, K, and R.

From the F is Fâkâh, fasting. From the K is Kanāat, contentment. From the R is Rizzāat, devotion.

Three qualities that all Fakirs should possess; and the formidable nature of the pursuit is somewhat tersely told in the following Punjabi lines:

Fakira. Fakiri dur hai Jitna lumba Kujoor hai Chur jai tho piay Prami. Rus Girjai tochuk nā choorhai.

THUS TRANSLATED.

It is as difficult to become a true Fakir as it is to ascend a date palm. When you reach the summit it is there only that you drink the love juice, but if you are timid as you rise you are sure to fall and be dashed to atoms.

In Akbar’s reign the followers of a seceder from the strict tenets of Islam, one Pir Roshan, when given to austere devotion, had, it is said, to pass through the several gradations of the external ordinances, or “Sheriat,” viz., reality, or “Hakikat,” true knowledge, or “Marifat,” proximity, or “Kurbut,” union, or “Wasalut,” the Arabic for mediation, and the indwelling in God, or “Sakūnut,” the Arabic for tranquility. These terms were peculiar to that sect.

“_Gujur._”—Originally a brave people of pastoral habits, inhabiting Afghanistan. A term also applied to a low class of Hindus, from Gujerat. Now used here to designate cattle owners and sellers of milk, many of whom are also Mahomedans.

In regard to a low caste of cow-herd, called “Ahīr,” the natives have a saying:

Jummay oouth ke Seengh Têl reth sê nikklay Gudhâ purhay Korân Gungâ lout Poorub sê. Puchhim by hay Toh Aheer say Kooch Goon nikklay.

TRANSLATION.

If horns grew on a camel, If oil could be extracted from sand, If a donkey could read the Korân, If the Ganges would flow from east to west, Then some good might be expected from an “Ahīr,”

And another saying yet:

Aheer zuduryâ Pâsee Teenon Satyâ Nâsee.

TRANSLATION.

An Ahīr, a shepherd, and a Pâsee (low caste); If these three get together, mischief is sure to come.

Ahīr is a general term for a pastoral race noticed by Ptolemy. They are distinguished as three tribes, viz., the Nand bansa, Yadu bansa, and Goala bansa. (_See Wilson and Elliott._)

“_Two Swords in one scabbard._”—Appeals to the sword are very common with natives of Northern India, indeed many of the warlike tribes worship their weapons.

When sharpened for service by a “Sikligur,” a man who makes it his business to give a keen edge to swords, he applies two tests. One is that the edge shall be sharp enough to cut through a ball of teazed cotton, balanced on the blade, and the other that it shall, with a light touch, lift a copper coin off a table.

A Punjabi Sipahi, referring to this, was overheard to say,

Wudday Uar thay Nam Talwar dhâ Birreh Sipahi thây Nam Sirdar dhâ

TRANSLATION.

The edge of the sword cuts, and the sword gets the credit; so the soldier fights, but his officer gets the fame.

“_Junthur Munthur._”—Sanscrit words, literally meaning enchanting by figures and incantations.

“_Ram Ram Song._”—The appeal of Hindus is invariably to “Ram,” as the god ready to help in difficulties, and probably an incarnation of Vishnu.

The Fakir’s song would likely be:

Ram jerôka bait-kur Sabka mujra lay Jaisa jiski chakri Taiko Thysa dhay.

TRANSLATED THUS:

Ram was sitting at his window, beholding before him a vast multitude and waiting to render to each according to the amount of work in his cause.

“_Faith opposed to Magic._”—The occult sciences have no doubt found a congenial soil in India and the far East; but is a belief in them restricted to the East? or rather, are not these relics of the middle ages still found to be lurking amongst the most enlightened of Western nations?

According to “Holwell’s Mythology,” magic and its accompaniments were first taken to the Indus by the Cuseans, descendants of Cush, the son of Ham, who is credited with being the first inventor of the black art. He quotes Eusebius as his authority.

Up to this day on the Indus there is no doubt that many believe in the power of some specially devout Fakirs to ascend into the air by the aid of an invisible rope. The laws of gravity forbid, of course, our belief in the capability of any man so to control and overcome them; but the wonder is that some of these Fakirs are still able to surprise and deceive so many, and that the riddle is as yet unsolved.

In China also the power to ascend is not unknown. Conjurors from amongst the Taoist priests ascend to a height of twenty or thirty feet. Of this class are those who in Manchuria call down fire from the sky.—Dr. Denny’s “China Folk-lore.”

The wandering jugglers and conjurors on the Indus and other parts of India have a singular refrain used as an invocation before exhibiting their skill. The burden of their song seems to be:

Ya! Allimas! Ya! Kulloowar Pir! Ya! Malim da Bir!

TRANSLATED THUS:

Oh! Elymas![4] Oh! black hero! Oh! powerful demi-god!

_Note._—Asked to explain a meteor, or shooting-star, the natives say, “You see! Shāitān ever since he has been expelled from Heaven is trying to get back, and these balls of fire, or ‘Chawathas’ which some call “Shâb” from the Arabic, are hurled at him to keep him off, and so they do, and he never succeeds.”

Footnote 4:

Acts xiii. 8.

THE FAKIR AND HIS QUARRELSOME WIFE.

In a somewhat out-of-the-way village in the Punjâb there dwelt for many years an old Fakir who was renowned for his wonderful self-denial and abstemious habits. He was not one, you know, who assumed their garb merely, but he preached to others of truth and morality, and his character bore out all he taught. He did not wander about, but took up his residence in this village, and so, being always there, he came to be well known, and was often visited by many people from distant parts.

One day another Fakir of the same branch and order as himself, and who was journeying north, came and claimed friendship with him, and finding him in a special place where he usually spent his day, sat down near to him, and talked of the things that concerned them both.

It being near night-fall the old Fakir asked his brother of the same faith to come as his guest for the night, and to pursue his journey on the morrow. So they trudged together until they arrived at his hut; but when the wife saw the guest, and knew that he was going to stay the night, she grew much displeased with her husband, and very abusive. It was in vain for the old Fakir to say that his friend was a traveller, and of his own avocation; the wife refused to be appeased. The guest finding himself in an awkward position, asked his host whether he had not better go on his journey at once, or find a refuge somewhere else in the village for the night, for it gave him great pain to listen to the angry words of a woman.

“Oh, no!” said the host, “I know she is very ill-tempered and cross, and frequently gets put out, but I have a great respect for her all the same, and I must tell you the reason.

“Do you not know that I am widely known as a good man? and in consequence of this, and of the advice I give, I am visited by people far and near, and they all flatter and praise me to the skies. Sometimes I have thought to myself that if this were to continue, I should be in danger of being proud and puffed up, and so be ruined not only here, but hereafter. Now this wife of mine, when she fans herself into a passion, does me real good, and I become quite subdued; and the more turbulent she becomes the more I control myself and am quiet. So you see there is a balance established between us, and the effect on me is that it softens my nature, and I am made more and more what we Fakirs aim to be; so what I lose in one way, I gain in another and a better way.”

The guest remained the night, and went away the next day deeply impressed with the wisdom of his friend and brother.

EXPLANATORY NOTES.

“_Fakir._”—Much has been previously said under this heading, but it is well to give here a few of the sayings of the noted Fakir known by the name generally of “Baba Farīd,” whose shrine is still to be seen in the town of “Pak Pattan” in the Montgomery district, not far from Mūltān. He was one of the “Chisti class” and a Shiah, belonging to a tribe of Arab descent. The Shiahs differ from the Sunnis in the belief that Ali ought to have succeeded the Prophet, instead of Abubakr, Omar, and Osman.

The shrine is an extensive one, but in order to enter it, it is necessary to pass in by a small doorway about four feet high and two feet broad, closed by a door made of sandal wood, to which three locks are attached, and the key of each is in the custody of a responsible person. On festival days, however, which happen once a year, the locks by some magic power fall off of themselves into a cloth held to catch them.

The devout worshippers enter by the door, and pay each one rupee for the privilege, and as it is calculated that over 100,000 visit the shrine each year, the gain to some one class must be enormous. So infatuated do the devotees become, that it is commonly believed by them that the parrots cry out “Farīd! Farīd!” as they fly over the shrine.

There are piles of stones near “Ajmere,” arranged in a line, and the story is that a string of camels carrying bags of sugar were going into the city, and “Baba Farīd” meeting them enquired of the drivers what the camels were burdened with. The drivers turned upon him with a sneer and said, “Stones! Stones!” “Is it so?” replied Farīd, “then let it be stones!” and lo, and behold, when they came to unload their beasts they found that the sugar had been really turned into stones, and emptying all their bags, they left the stones by the road-side, which are to be seen to this day.

Several verses, or quatrains, have been ascribed to Baba Farīd, and here are two or three:

Oot! Farīda suthia Mumm ka deva bââl Sahib jinnadhay jagthay Nufferan keah sona nââl

TRANSLATION.

Rise, Farīda, from your sleep, Light the candle of your soul; Thy God who is ever wakeful His servants should not slumber.

Again, when seeing a woman grinding at a mill (one well known):

Chukki phirtay veyk kay Farīda dhitar ro Do purrân vitch Akay khan na chulley koh

TRANSLATION.

Seeing the mill going round Farīda began to cry. Between two stones he saw The grain that comes is crushed.

And further, thinking on the mill, Farīda added:

Jo loor eveng salaam thêê kol kili dhâ ho.

TRANSLATION.

To be in safety keep close to the centre peg, which is God, where some grains escape the mill, we know.

Again, and this shall be the last:

Oot Farīda suthia Darhi Ayah boor Agê Ayah nairay Piche saha dûr.

Farīda aisa ho-raho Jaisa kukh musseeth Luthee pyree latharia Tera Sahib nââl purreeth.

TRANSLATION.

Arise, Farīda, from your sleep; Your beard is getting grey. That which is to come is near; That which has passed is far away.

Strive, oh, Farīda! to be As the Musjid trodden grass, Humble and self-abased, Yet in friendship with your God.