Part 8

The Kazi, impelled by curiosity, asked permission of his audience for a few moments of leave, and then taking the old couple aside, he begged of them to tell him the reason of their strange behaviour. With bated breath, and with the deepest earnestness did the old Washerman and his wife pour into the Kazi’s ears the whole of the strange story of his having once been their ass: how for years they had overloaded him with kindness, and never spared the cudgel when he had been obstinate; how they deeply regretted their conduct towards one now so exalted as they saw their son to be; how, but for the wonderful power of the Priest of Azimgurh such a blessing would never have come to them; and how their cup of happiness was now complete.

The Kazi at once took in the situation, and saw the plot that his arch enemy had so cleverly planned against him, and being a wise man he thought to himself, “If I repudiate this absurd story, in the belief of which these ignorant people have bound up their lives, it will be sure to be published abroad, to my own annoyance, and from being respected I shall be mocked and turned into ridicule, and in fact be the laughingstock of the place. I am resolved what to do; I will quietly acquiesce in what they say, and so get rid of them.” Turning to the old couple he said, “Yes; it is all too true, and from henceforth your interests are my interests, your good name is identical with mine, and I will carry it on. But let me bind you by all that you hold sacred that you never breathe a word of this marvellous change that has taken place in my being and existence. If you never reveal this secret, I will be a dutiful son to you all my life.”

This the old Washerman and his wife agreed to abide by in every iota, only stipulating that when they died, which in the course of nature was not far off, he would be present to see them interred according to Mahomedan rites. This the Kazi on his part faithfully promised to do, and the old couple took their departure to their own home with every expression of joy and delight, and left all their money to him when they died.

EXPLANATORY NOTES.

“_Azimgurh._”—“Azim” is the Arabic for great, and is used wherever Moslems have spread, in names of towns and in titles, such as Azimgurh, Azimpur, or Azim-us-Shan, meaning splendid.—_Balfour._

“_Kazi._”—From the Arabic, and means a judge or justice—one who determines and decrees in Mahomedan law.

In days long gone by the ruling of the Kazi was thought more absolute than it is now, and there was then no appeal from his judgment. As a class they were greatly respected, though some were believed to be able to read the law pretty much as it suited them.

The natives tell a story of one of these old Kazis who had two favourite sons, named Juttoo and Juttal, and during a severe famine these lads were seen to be eating the flesh of an animal that had died a natural death, which is strictly contrary to the Mahomedan law. The complaint was made to the Kazi of the evil example they had set to the people, but he, willing to screen them, enquired of the deputation what the animal was. They replied, “Kotha” (an ass). “And what colour might it have been?” he further asked. They replied, “Chitta” (white). Then making a pretence of hunting up several of his law books, he said, “I find an exception here in the case of a white ass, and I therefore thus decree:

Julloo and Jullal Chitta kotha Hullal.

TRANSLATION.

To Julloo and Jullal The white ass is judged lawful.”

From the earliest times, the White Ass (Albino) has been reserved for the use of those who might be highly honoured. In Hindustani the Ass is termed a Gudhā and is of the same breed as those domesticated from the original African Ass. They are used in India mostly by Dhobī's, and a homeless race called the “Yerkala,” and it is said they cripple their hind legs to prevent them straying. Most of these Asses have one disposition, that they are averse to crossing a stream of water.

For the transformation of men into animals and vice-versâ, see Crooke’s “Popular Folk Lore of Northern India.” This metamorphosis is common throughout the whole range of Folk-lore: thus, in one of Somadeva’s tales, a man is turned into an Ox, in another his wife transforms him into a Buffalo, in a third the angry hermit turns the King into an Elephant.

AKBAR AND HIS MINISTER.

In the great and glorious days of the Badshah Akbar (Emperor), he had a very favourite minister of the name of Bīrbal. This minister was without doubt the ablest statesman at the Court, and no State question was decided without reference to him.

Some say he was also a general in the army, and that by his skill he greatly assisted Akbar to extend his dominions. Bīrbal was, however, a Hindu, a Brāhman of the tribe of Bhât, and his real name was Mahes Dās, but so tolerant was “Akbar Badshah” to all religious sects that if a man were wise and skilful he cared not of what faith he might happen to be. Bīrbal was also full of wit and humour, and had such a pleasing way of putting things, that he could talk to the Badshah in a manner that other ministers would not dare to do.

It so happened, however, that one day he unwittingly gave offence to the Badshah, and so enraged did Akbar become that Bīrbal, fearing his wrath, fled the country. Disguising himself as a Fakir, he begged his way from village to village, and at last settled down on the extreme frontier of the Badshah’s empire.

Days and months passed by, and the Badshah began to feel more and more the loss of his once favourite minister, and though himself searching in the villages near at hand, and making diligent enquiries everywhere, he failed to discover the slightest trace of him.

Crushed by grief and broken-hearted, he at last called a council of his ministers, and stated to them how much he missed the presence about him of his old attached friend Bīrbal. They, perhaps somewhat jealous of his pre-eminence in the mind of the Badshah, seemed to be callous and indifferent as to his fate. Whereupon the Badshah became as enraged with them as he had before been with Bīrbal, and threatened to decapitate them if his hiding-place were not soon discovered, and the runaway brought back to him.

The ministers and nobles in their alarm, at last hit upon an expedient which they submissively laid before the Badshah.

They said, “Oh Badshah! If an order is given throughout the Empire of so senseless and foolish a nature that it will be impossible for any of your Majesty’s subjects to comply with it, there is just a chance that we may be able to find out the place of concealment of the ever terse and humorous Bīrbal.”

The Badshah listened to their suggestion, told them to act up to it, but under any circumstances, and at the cost of their heads if they failed, Bīrbal must be brought ere long into the Presence.

Accordingly an edict went forth calling upon the “Headman” of every village in the Dominions, on pain of death, to bring the principal “well” of the village to do obeisance to the King’s “well” at the Palace. The edict was entrusted to horsemen who conveyed it to every village in the Empire.

The whole country was filled with lamentation and distress, for it was seen to be impossible to conform to the order of the Badshah.

When the proclamation reached the village where Bīrbal was in hiding, he shared in the sorrow around him, and bethought him of a way of escape for the people, but he was known to them only as a Fakir.

At last he said to the Headman of his village, “Take with you some of your principal tenants, and go to the outside of the Badshah’s Palace; then send a messenger within the Palace, to say that in obedience to the order of the Badshah you have brought your ‘well’ without the walls, and that it is ready to do obeisance to the King’s ‘well.’ Say also that as it is the custom of the country for the elder brother to advance to meet the younger, that as soon as your ‘well’ sees the King’s ‘well’ approaching to it through the gates of the city, it will without delay rise to pay its respect, and accompany it back to the Palace.”

This they did exactly as the disguised Fakir, Bīrbal, had told them. Arriving at the outside of the city walls they deputed the most intelligent man of their party to present himself before the Emperor.

The Emperor was seated on his “Peacock Throne,” or “Takht-e-Taoos,” having on the right of the Throne a courtier carrying the “Golden Hand” to keep off the Evil Eye, and known as “Punjah,” from its having five fingers extended; and upon the left another courtier, bearing the emblem of the Fish, termed in Arabic the “Mahee-Moorâtib,” the badge of dignity and success.

The Messenger advanced to the Throne and stated his mission to the Emperor, and ended by saying that the “well” of his village was without the city walls, waiting to receive the King’s “well.”

The Emperor was baffled for the time, and then turning to one of his ministers, he directed him to visit the delegates beyond the walls. The minister went, and at once returned, saying that the reply to the Badshah’s order and to the proclamation, given with such sagacity and wit, could come, he thought, from no other than the absent minister. This the Emperor was ready to credit, and a clue being thus obtained, the ministers formed a party and proceeded to the village, where after some little time, they succeeded in discovering Bīrbal in the austere garb of a mendicant Fakir.

Surprised and powerless, he was conveyed back to the city, and to the Royal Presence, and the Emperor came forward to receive him; and then after a few formal greetings the Emperor ordered a robe of honour to be brought and put upon him, and he was again promoted to his position and rank at the Court.

It was not long after this that the country was at war again with the Pathans and tribes in the “Bunēr” Mountains. Bīrbal was given the chief command, and here in one of the first engagements he was unfortunately killed, but his name still lives amongst us as the most able and witty minister that the Badshah Akbar had ever called to his councils.

EXPLANATORY NOTES.

“_Akbar and Bīrbal._”—Both Akbar and Bīrbal have their place in history, about A.D. 1586, and doubtless this tale is told amongst many others current in India in order to keep in memory the wit and humour of Akbar’s most favourite minister. It is not old folk-lore, but finds a place here as oral tradition on the Indus, in the valley of which river Akbar was born.

“_Bīrbal._”—Another tale is told of the same minister who when tauntingly asked by the Emperor Akbar why he did not make an effort to turn all Moslems into Hindus, replied, “Oh King! that is too serious a question to answer off-hand, but give me time and I will tell you why.”

Hearing some days afterwards that the Emperor was going down to the riverside Bīrbal contrived to have a man vigorously washing and lathering a donkey with soap. “See here,” said the Emperor, “here is a novel sight!” “Yes,” replied Bīrbal, “and a very good reply too to the question your Majesty put to me the other day. We believe that Hindus are to Mahomedans as horses are to jackasses, and you see, your Majesty, that all the washing and lathering in the world will not make the donkey into a horse, neither can I by any power that I possess transform a Moslem into a Hindu.”

Yet another tale is current on the Indus, intended to perpetuate the wit and wisdom of Bīrbal.

One day the Emperor begged of his minister to solve the problem of there being so many religious sects in the Kingdom, such as the “Roshan.”[5] Bīrbal, it is said, took the Emperor to a large hall, supported by many pillars all similar, but one of which only was of fine gold. There was but a dim light in the hall, and without it, was a large concourse of people. Bīrbal addressed them and said, “You know that all the pillars are much of a shape, but one is of gold; who shall discover this? Let me see.”

Footnote 5:

A Heresy under “Bayazid,” who set aside the Qorān, and the many divisions amongst the Hindus.

In an instant there was a rush for the hall, and in a little time when light was thrown on the scene, each pillar had its man clutching it in strong embrace, but only Bīrbal knew that which was of gold.

“Behold, oh King!” he said “the scramble for the prize; so it is in the world around us: all rush and divide off into sects to lay hold of the prop and support of immortal happiness, each in the firm belief of exclusive possession. It will only be when the true Light shines, that the Deity who alone has the secret shall pronounce the reward.”

There is a class of Hindu boatmen of Attock who keep themselves entirely apart from the other boatmen who are Mahomedans.

They are called Mullâhs, from the Arabic and meaning boatmen, and their tradition is that their ancestors were brought up to Attock by Akbar from further south, as being skilful oarsmen.

Another local legend at Attock is that the native engineer who made the plans for the old fort had his hands cut off by the native Rajah, lest he should design another for an enemy; and this is current in Ghazi to this day.

With reference to the extended hand to keep off the Evil Eye, and carried as an emblem on the right of Akbar’s throne, it should be stated here also that it is often carried on a pole by Mahomedans of the Shiah sect during the Maharram. It is often imprinted too on huts and houses for the same purpose.

The standard of the fish, or in the Persian, “Mahee-Moorâtib,” conveys special honours to princes and nobles. “Mahee” in Persian means Fish; the Fish on which the earth is supposed to rest. The word “Moorâtib” is from the Arabic “Martibah” and means Dignity and Honour.

“The Fish is the vehicle of “Kwâja Khizr,” the water god, and hence has become a sort of totem of Shiah Mahomedans, and the crest of the late Royal Family of Oudh.”—_Crooke._

Pictures of fish are often drawn on houses as a charm against demoniacal influence, and we know, that the “Matse Avatar,” represents the incarnation of Vishnu in the form of a Fish; and emblematic also of the Deluge.

There are many expedients resorted to, to keep off the Evil Eye, amongst others, iron rings, precious stones, colours (particularly red and yellow), the triangle of equal sides, and pots and chattis, or earthenware pots, smeared with lime. The triangle might possibly be traced to the three Genii, or Hindu Triad, seated in a triangle, or “Tricuta.”[6]

Footnote 6:

In the abode of the departed, said to have been seen by Thespesius of Soli.—Purânâs. When the apex of the triangle points downwards Kishnu is symbolized, if upwards it is the symbol of Siva.

Armlets to the same intent, and called “Tawiz,” from the Arabic word, Auz, “fleeing to God for protection,” are in constant use, as a charm, and it would seem that the Jews recognized the same practice, possibly from the command in Deuteronomy xi. 18.

To speak in praise of a child to its face before the parent is to call up the Evil Eye, and is a cause of much alarm. If unwittingly done by a friend, the parent will ask him to spit in his hand in order to take off the spell.

A particular woodpecker, called the Babeeâh, has an evil spell and is dreaded on account of its bringing heavy rains, to the injury of agriculture, and in a village called Vasnal the farmers and villagers all turned out and drove it from the district, and the rain, they say, at once stopped.

Very often, in a large melon field there are placed one or two black chattis, so that the eye of passers-by may rest on these first, before they see the melons, and so take off any evil spell.

We may add here what is not generally known, that the Emperor Akbar, who gave the greatest encouragement to literary accomplishments, appointed Bīrbal to be the Royal poet under the name of “Katrāe.” None of the poems he wrote have, as far as we know, been preserved by Abul-Fazl or others, but we presume that they would have been of the usual figurative type of those days, as for instance the comparing of the narcissus flower to the eye, and the feeble stem of that plant bending over with the weight of the flower, to the languor of the eyes. Pearls again signifying tears or teeth, and the lips to carnations or rubies, while the gums are said to be as the flower of the pomegranate tree, and the dark foliage of the myrtle, is thought to be like the dark hair of the one beloved; or again the eye is said to be like a sword, and the eyelids scabbards, the white complexion to be like crystals of camphor, while the musk plant is said to betoken a beauty spot on the face. (See _Hughes_.)

“_Peacock Throne._”—This was studded with valuable diamonds and precious stones, and was considered to be worth seven millions of money.

THE RAJAH, HIS MINISTER, AND THE SHEPHERD.

There lived many years ago a great Rajah in a country far away from our village; and he was a very enlightened and clever man, and used to travel about to add to his information and knowledge.

On one of his journeys he met a man who told him that there was at no very great distance off, a city where everyone was wise, from the King on the throne to the poorest beggar in the street.

“That is impossible,” said the Rajah, but the man persisted in the truth of his statement, and said, “If you do not believe me go and see for yourself.” This the Rajah had determined in his own mind to do, but for the present he returned to his own Palace.

Calling for his favourite minister he told him of what he had heard, and said, “I should much like to visit that city, and acquire some further experience and wisdom; for knowledge, I find, can only come from what one sees; and you must accompany me on my travels;” to which the minister readily assented.

Conversing again together some few days afterwards, they began to arrange about the time and manner of going. “It will not do, oh King!” said the minister, “for your rank and title to be known, nor indeed for me to appear as your Vizier. We must throw a veil over all this, and go in disguise, or we shall never succeed in getting to know the wisdom of this wonderful people and city. Let us go as respectable travellers only; then we shall be able to go in and out of the streets without anyone molesting us.”

This idea pleased the Rajah, so they had some dresses secretly prepared, and on a propitious day they took their departure from the Palace. The Rajah knew the road, and in a few days they reached the spot where he had met the man who gave him this piece of news. “From hence,” he said to his Vizier, “the city cannot be far, for the man assured me it was at no great distance from where we are now standing.”

They pushed on, and in two or three days a city, surrounded by a high wall, was in full view before them. “This,” said the Rajah, “is sure to be the place, for it has an air of solidity about it. See! there are gates to go in and out of it!”

Before, however, venturing into the city, the travellers sat down to rest on a little mound of grass just outside the walls. They got into conversation together, and observed a shepherd, or “Ajuree,” who was grazing his goats and sheep very close to where they had sat down. The Rajah said to his minister, or Vizier, “I should like to put to you four questions, just to sharpen our wits a bit.”

The narrator of the tale then turned, and said to his hearers, “You know that the shepherd is of all classes the most stupid and ignorant; he takes his goats and sheep each morning into the jungles, tends and feeds and guards them, and before night-fall he returns with them to the city; so he hears no information, and has no means of picking up knowledge of any kind.”

The Rajah then, within hearing of the Shepherd, of whom he took no apparent concern, propounded his questions as follows to the minister:

“My first question is: Of all lights, which, say you, is the best light?” “Well,” replied the minister, “that is not difficult to answer, for there is no light equal to that of the sun which is indeed the centre of all light.” “Now for my second question,” said the Rajah. “Of all waters, which is the best water?” “That again is of simple solution, for what water can be compared to that from the Ganges? for in life we Hindus worship it, and at death, when put into our mouths, it insures to us mercy at the last.” “Very good: now I come to my third question. Of all sleep, which is the best sleep?” to which the minister replied, “What sleep can be more refreshing than to recline on a soft couch after a fatiguing day?” “Now,” said the Rajah, “for my fourth and last question. Of all flowers, which is the best flower?” “This,” replied the minister, “requires little thought, for the “Gul,” or rose, has been the favourite flower from all ages; it is beautiful to look at, and has the sweetest of all perfumes.”

After the Rajah had finished his interrogations he overheard the Shepherd laughing aloud, and he thought he caught the word “fool,” so he turned to him and asked, “What was that you said?” To which the Shepherd replied, “I was talking to my goats, and not to you.” “But you did say something referring to us; what was it?”

“Well,” returned the Shepherd, “I do not mind telling you that I heard the questions you put to that man, whoever he is, and the silly replies he gave you. You asked him which was the best light, and he said the Sun. No, sir; the best light is that of your eyes, for what use is the Sun to you if you are blind? Again, you asked him which was the best water, and he replied, that from the Ganges, the beloved Ganges; but he should have said, the little store of water in a dry and thirsty land when the far-off Ganges would be of no avail. Then you asked him of the best sleep, and how foolish his reply! He should have said, the sleep of health, which will come to refresh you on whatever you may recline; and as to the last question, of the flower, he praised the “Gul” as the best of all, whereas he should have said, the flower of the cotton plant, for the rose fades and leaves no useful trace behind, but with the cotton plant we have both a beautiful and fragrant flower, and when that falls off, there succeeds a pod which supplies a substance from which we weave our cloth, to provide us and our descendants after us with necessary garments.”

As soon as the Shepherd had concluded this little speech the Rajah turned and thanked him; and then looking at his minister he said quietly, “What think you of that for an ignorant shepherd caught hap-hazzard near the place? And if he can make such fools of us both, who knows what may happen to us when we enter the city? What think you? Have we not had evidence enough of the wisdom of this people? So my advice is that we retrace our steps to our own country, and try and educate and improve our people, even as they have done.” To this the Vizier at once consented, and they journeyed homewards, wiser men than when they set out upon their expedition.

EXPLANATORY NOTES.