Part 9

A certain raja had two daughters, who were in the habit of amusing themselves out side of the palace walls. One day they saw a crow flying towards them with a ripe Terel [21] fruit in his beak. They then said to each other, "What fruit is it? It looks nice and sweet." The crow let the fruit fall in front of them. They ran and picked it up, and ate it. It tasted deliciously sweet. Then they said, "From whence did the crow bring such a good fruit?" Then they remembered the direction from which they had seen it coming, and said, "If we go this way we shall find it." So they went, but it was only after they had travelled a great distance from home that they found the Terel tree with the ripe luscious fruit.

The elder of the two girls climbed up into the tree, and shook down a large quantity of the fruit. They then feasted to their heart's content. Presently they began to feel thirsty, and the elder said to the younger, "You remain here while I go to drink, and I will also bring you water in a leaf cup." Having said this she went away to the tank, and her sister remained under the Terel tree. The day was extremely hot, and they were very thirsty.

The elder having quenched her thirst was returning carrying water for her sister in a cup made of the leaves of a Terel tree, when a bhut came flying along, and fell into the cup of water. Presently she became aware that there was a hole in the bottom of her cup through which all the water had run out. What could she do now? There was no help for it but to return to the tank, make another leaf cup, and filling it with water return to her sister. As she was returning with the cup full of water the bhut again came flying up, and entering the water passed through the leaf, making a hole by which all the water escaped.

Again she made a leaf cup, and having filled it with water was returning when the bhut again came, and destroyed her cup, and caused her to lose the water. In this way she was detained till very late.

A raja who happened to be in the vicinity saw a beautiful girl carrying water in a leaf cup, and a bhut come and make a hole in the cup, so that it soon became empty. Having seen this several times repeated, he drew near, and feasted his eyes on her beauty. Then he carried her away to his palace, where they were joined in wedlock, and the princess, now the rani, cooked the food for herself and her husband.

The younger princess remained near the Terel tree, and although she had given up hope of again meeting her sister, still she continued to wait. At length a herd of Hanuman monkeys came to feed upon the Terel fruit. When the girl saw them coming she was terrified and crept into the hollow of the tree. The monkeys with the exception of an old frail one, climbed into the tree and began to eat the fruit. The old monkey remained below and picked up the fruit shells which the others threw down.

The old monkey having noticed the girl hiding in the hollow of the tree called to the others, "Throw me down some. If you do not I shall not share the Setke chopot I have found." The monkeys in the tree said, "Do not give him any. He is deceiving us. When his hunger is satisfied he will run and leave us." So no fruit was thrown down to him, and he was forced to be content with the shells. The monkeys in the tree having fared sumptuously, left. The old monkey waited till they were out of sight, and then entered the hollow of the tree, where the girl was, and ate her up. He then went to the tank to drink, and afterwards went in the direction of the raja's garden, on reaching which he lay down and died. One of the gardeners finding him dead threw him on the dunghill.

From the place where the monkey decayed a gourd sprang, and grew, and bore a fruit which ripened. One day a jugi, when on his rounds begging, saw this fruit and plucking it took it away with him. Out of the shell he made a banjo, which when played upon emitted wonderful music. The words which seemed to proceed from the banjo were as follows:

Ripe terels, ripe terels, Oh! Sister mine. Went in search of water, Oh! Sister mine. Raja and Rani they became. Seven hundred monkeys old, Ate me up, ate me up. Oh! Sister mine.

The jugi was greatly pleased with the music of his new banjo, and determined to take it with him when he went a begging. So one day he set out with his banjo the music of which so pleased the people that they gave him large gifts of money and clothes. In course of time he arrived at the palace where the elder sister was now rani, and, being admitted, began to play on his banjo. The instrument again produced most wonderful music. It seemed to wail as follows:

Ripe terels, ripe terels, Oh! Sister mine. Went in search of water, Oh! Sister mine. Raja and Rani they became. Seven hundred monkeys old, Ate me up, ate me up. Oh! Sister mine.

Having listened to the music the rani said, "It is wonderfully sweet," and she fancied she heard her sister's voice in every note. She thought it possible that it was she who sang in the banjo, and she desired to obtain possession of it. So she invited the jugi to pass the night in the palace, saying, I would hear more of this entrancing music." The jugi listened to the words of the rani and agreed to remain till morning. So the rani made much of him with the intention of at length obtaining possession of his banjo. She caused a goat to be killed, and she cooked a splendid supper for the jugi, who finding the food so toothsome ate heartily. Wine was not withheld, and the jugi being in a festive frame of mind drank deeply, so that he soon lay as one dead. The rani took the banjo, and placed another in its stead. She then threw filth over the unconscious jugi and retired to her own apartment.

The jugi on awaking before sunrise found himself in a pitiable plight. He felt so thoroughly disgusted with himself that, hastily picking up his staff, cloth, and banjo, he fled with the utmost possible speed from the palace. When dawn broke he saw that the banjo he had was not his own, and although he felt keenly its loss he was too much ashamed of the condition he had been in to go back to seek it.

The rani hid the jugi's banjo in her own room, because she knew her sister to be in it. Whenever the raja and rani went out to walk the girl left the banjo and having bathed and dressed her hair, cooked the family meal, and then returned to the banjo. This happened so often that at last, it came to the knowledge of the raja that a fairy lived in the banjo, and when the way was clear used to come out and prepare food for the rani and himself. So he determined to lie in wait for the fairy cook. He then sent the rani somewhere on an errand, and hid himself in a corner of the room from whence he could see the banjo. In a short time the princess emerged from the banjo, and began to dress her hair, and anoint herself with oil, after which she cooked rice. She divided the food into three portions, one of which she ate. As she was about to re-enter the banjo the raja sprang out and caught hold of her. She exclaimed, "Chi! Chi! you may be a Hadi, or you may be a Dom." The raja replied, "Chi! Chi! whether I be a Dom, or a Hadi, from to-day you and I are one."

SEVEN BROTHERS AND THEIR SISTER.

In a certain village there lived seven brothers and a sister. Their family was wealthy. Their father was dead. The brothers agreed to dig a tank so that whatever happened their name would continue. So they began the work, but although they dug deep they found no water. Then they said to each other, "Why is there no water?" While they were speaking thus among themselves a jugi gosae on his rounds, came to the tank in the hope of finding water, but he was disappointed. The seven brothers on seeing the jugi gosae went and sat down near him, and said, "We have been working for many days, and have dug so deep, still we have not reached water. You, who are a jugi gosae, tell us why water does not come." He replied, "Unless you give a gift you will never get water." They enquired, "What should we give." The jugi gosae replied, "Not gold, or silver, or an elephant, or a horse, but you have a sister?" They said, "Yes, we have one sister." He replied, "Then make a gift of her to the spirit of the tank." The girl was betrothed, and her family had received the amount that had been fixed as her price. The brothers argued thus, "We have laboured so long to make a name for ourselves, but have not found water, so where is our name? If we do not sacrifice our sister we shall never obtain the fulfilment of our wishes, let us all agree to it." So they all said, "Agreed," but the youngest did not fully approve of their design.

In the evening they said to their mother, "Let our sister wash her clothes, dress her hair, and put on all her ornaments to-morrow when she brings us our breakfast to the tank." They did not, however, enlighten their mother as to why they desired their sister to be so careful with her toilet.

The following day the mother addressed her daughter as follows, "Oh! my daughter, your brothers yesterday said to me, let the daughter, when she brings us our breakfast come with clean clothes, her hair dressed and all her ornaments on. So as it is nearly time, go and dress, and put on all your ornaments, and take your brothers' breakfast to where they are working." She complied with her mother's order, and set out for the tank, dressed in her best with all her ornaments on, carrying boiled rice in a new basket.

When she arrived at the tank her brothers said to her, "Oh! daughter, set down the basket under yonder tree." She did so, and the brothers came to where she was. They then said to her, "Go bring us water from the tank to drink." She took her water-pot under her arm, and went into the tank, but did not at once find water. Presently, however, she saw the sheen of water in the centre, and went to fill her pitcher, but she could not do so, as the water rose so rapidly. The tank was soon full to the brim, and the girl was drowned.

The brothers having seen their sister perish, went home. Their mother enquired, "Oh! my sons, where is the daughter?" They replied, "We have given her to the tank. A certain jugi gosae said to us, 'Unless you offer up your sister you will never get water'." On hearing this she loudly wailed the loss of her daughter. Her sons strove to mitigate her grief by saying, "Look mother, we undertook the excavation of the tank to perpetuate our name, and to gain the fruit of a meritorious work. And unless there be water in the tank for men and cattle to drink, where is the perpetuation of our name? By our offering up the daughter the tank is full to overflowing. So the cattle can now quench their thirst, and travellers, when they encamp near by and drink the water, will say, 'The excavators of this tank deserve the thanks of all. We, and others who pass by are recipients of their bounty. Their merit is indeed great'." In this way with many such like arguments they sought to allay their mother's grief.

Right in the centre of the tank, where the girl was drowned, there sprang up an Upel flower the purple, sheen of which filled the beholder with delight.

It has already been stated that the girl had been betrothed, and that her family had received the money for her. The day appointed for the marriage arrived, and the bridegroom's party with drums, elephants and horses, set out for the bride's house. On arrival they were informed that she had left her home, and that all efforts to trace her had proved fruitless. So they returned home greatly disappointed. It so happened that their way lay past the tank in which the girl had been sacrificed, and the bridegroom, from his palki, saw the Upel flower in the centre. As he wished to possess himself of it, he ordered his bearers to set down the palki, and stepping out prepared to swim out to pluck the flower. His companions tried to dissuade him, but as he insisted he was permitted to enter the water. He swam to within a short distance of the flower, but as he stretched out his hand to pluck it, the Upel flower, moving away, said, "Chi! Chi! Chi! Chi! You may be either a Dom or a Hadi, do not touch me." The bridegroom replied, "Not so. Are not we two one?" He made another effort to seize the flower, but it again moved away, saying, "Chi! Chi! Chi! Chi! you may be a Dom or a Hadi, so do not touch me." To which he replied, "Not so. You and I are one." He swam after it again, but the flower eluded his grasp, and said, "Chi! Chi! Chi! Chi! You may be a Dom, or you may be a Hadi, so do not touch me." He said, "Not so. You and I are bride and bridegroom for ever." Then the Upel flower allowed itself to be plucked, and the bridegroom returned to his company bearing it with him.

He entered his palki and the cortege started. They had not proceeded far before the bearers were convinced that the palki was increasing in weight. They said, "How is it that it is now so heavy? A short time ago it was light." So they pushed aside the panel, and beheld the bride and bridegroom sitting side by side. The marriage party on hearing the glad news rejoiced exceedingly. They beat drums, shouted, danced, and fired off guns. Thus they proceeded on their homeward way.

When the bridegroom's family heard the noise, they said, one to the other "Sister, they have arrived." Then they went forth to meet the bridegroom, and brought them in with great rejoicing. The bride was she who had been the Upel flower, and was exceedingly beautiful. In form she was both human and divine. The village people, as well as the marriage guests, when they saw her, exclaimed, "What a beautiful bride! She is the fairest bride that we have seen. She has no peer." Thus they all praised her beauty.

It so happened that in the meantime the mother and brothers of the girl had become poor. They were reduced to such straits as to be compelled to sell firewood for a living. So one day the brothers went to the bridegroom's village with firewood for sale. They offered it to one and another, but no one would buy. At last some one said, "Take it to the house in which the marriage party is assembled. They may require it." So the brothers went there, and asked, "Will you buy firewood?" They replied, "Yes. We will take it." Some one informed the bride, that some men from somewhere had brought firewood for sale. So she went out, and at once recognised her brothers, and said to them, "Put down your loads," and when they had done so she placed beds for them to sit on, and brought them water; but they did not know that she was their sister, as she was so greatly changed. Then she gave them vessels of oil, and said, "Go bathe, for you will dine here to-day." So they took the oil, and went to bathe, but they were so hungry that they drank the oil on the way. So they bathed, and returned to the house. She then brought them water to wash their hands, and they sat down in a row to eat. The bride gave her youngest brother food on a brass plate, because he had not approved of what had been done to her, but to the others she gave it on leaf plates.

They had only eaten one handful of rice when the girl placed herself in front of them, and putting a hand upon her head, began to weep bitterly. She exclaimed, "Oh! my brothers, you had no pity upon me. You threw me away as an offering to the tank. You saw me lost, and then went home." When the brothers heard this they felt as if their breasts were torn open. If they looked up to heaven, heaven was high. Then they saw an axe which they seized, and with it they struck the ground with all their might. It opened like the mouth of a large tiger, and the brothers plunged in. The girl caught the youngest brother by the hair to pull him up, but it came away in her hand, and they all disappeared into the bowels of the earth, which closed over them.

The girl held the hair in her hand and wept over it. She then planted it, and from it sprang the hair like Bachkom [22] grass, and from that time Bachkom grass grows in the jungles.

The sister had pity on her youngest brother because he did not join heartily with the others in causing her death. So she tried to rescue him from the fate which was about to overtake him, but in this she failed, and he suffered for the sins of his brothers.

THE STORY OF JHORE.

There was a lad named Jhore, who herded goats, and every day while with his flock he saw a tiger and a lizard fight. The lizard always vanquished the tiger, and the latter after each encounter came to Jhore and said, "Which of us won?" Jhore through fear every time replied, "You won," and the tiger went away pleased.

One day Jhore said to his mother, give me some roasted matkom in a leaf, and put me into a bag and I will tell you something. So she wrapped up some matkom in a leaf, and Jhore crept into the bag and she tied its mouth. Then she said, "What is it, my son, which you wish to tell me?" Jhore replied, "Every day when I am tending my goats I see a tiger and a lizard fight, and the tiger is vanquished by the lizard. The tiger then comes to me and asks, 'which of us won?' Through fear I say, you won, then the tiger goes away satisfied."

While Jhore was relating the foregoing to his mother the tiger was listening at the door, and as he finished his story it rushed in, and seizing the bag carried it off to a dense unexplored forest, on a hill in the middle of which he placed it. Jhore was very uncomfortable, and was considering how he could best free himself from the bag. As he was hungry he was reminded of the matkom he had with him wrapped in a leaf, so he began to open it, and the dried leaf crackled. The tiger hearing the noise, asked what produced it. Jhore replied, "It is yesterday's lizard." The tidings of the presence of his mortal enemy so terrified the tiger that he exclaimed, "Stop, stop, Jhore. Do not release him. Let me first escape." After the tiger left Jhore rolled down the hill side, and away into a still denser forest, in an open spot of which he came to a stop. The fastening of the bag was loosed by this time, and Jhore crawled out. All round this open glade in which our hero found himself was dense forest never trodden by the foot of man, and tenanted by a herd of wild buffaloes. Jhore took up his residence there, and subsisted on the roasted matkom as long as it lasted.

Jhore in his explorations found a number of buffaloe calves left behind by their mothers who had gone to graze. He tended these daily, cleaning the place where they lived, and taking them to the water, where he washed them. In this way a bond of friendship was established between him and the wild buffaloe calves.

Before the buffaloe cows left for their grazing grounds in the mornings the calves said, "You stay away till so late at night that, we are almost famished before you return. Leave some milk with us, so that when hungry we may drink it." So they left a supply of milk with them, which they gave to Jhore. He took such care of his charges that he soon became a great favourite with them.

Matters went on thus for many days till at last the buffaloe cows said among themselves, "We must watch for, and catch whoever it is who keeps our calves so clean." So a very powerful wild buffaloe was appointed to lie in wait, but he missed seeing Jhore when he led the calves to the water and bathed them, and cleaned and swept out their stall. The next day another took his place, but he succeeded no better. The calves were taken to the water, bathed, brought back, and their stall cleaned and swept as usual without his seeing who did it. When the others returned in the evening he informed them that he had failed to solve the mystery. So they said, "What shall we do now? How shall we catch him? Who will watch to-morrow?" A old buffaloe cow replied, "I will accept the responsibility." Hearing her speak thus the others said, "What a good elephant and a good horse could not do, will ten asses accomplish?" By this they meant, that two of the strongest of their number having failed, this weak old cow could not possibly succeed. However, she persisted, and in the morning the others went to graze leaving her behind.

In a short time she saw Jhore emerge from the dunghill, in which he resided, and loose the calves, and take them to the water. When he brought them back he cleaned and swept their stall, and then re-entered the dunghill. In the evening the others enquired, "Well, did you see him?" The old buffaloe cow replied, "Yes, I saw him, but I will not tell you, for you will kill him." They pressed her, but she refused, saying, "You will kill him." They said, "Why should we kill him who takes so much care of our young ones?" The old buffaloe cow led them to the dunghill, and said, "He is in here." So they called to him to come out, which he did, and when they saw him they were all greatly pleased, so much so that they there and then hired him to continue to do the work he had been doing so well. They arranged also to give him a regular daily supply of milk, so he was duly installed by the herd of wild buffaloes as care-taker of their calves.

Long after this, he one day took his calves to the river and after he had bathed them he said to the buffaloe calves, "Wait for me till I also bathe." They replied, "Bathe, we will graze close by." He having performed his ablutions sat down on the river bank to comb and dress his hair, which was twelve cubits long. In combing his tangled tresses a quantity was wrenched out, this he wrapped up in a leaf and threw into the stream. It was carried by the current a great distance down to where a raja's daughter and her companions were bathing. The raja's daughter saw the leaf floating towards her, and ordered one of her attendants to bring it to her. When the leaf was opened it was found to contain hair twelve cubits in length. Immediately after measuring the hair the raja's daughter complained of fever, and hasted home to her couch. The raja being informed of his daughter's illness sent for the most skilled physicians, who prescribed all the remedies their pharmacopoeia contained, but failed to afford the sufferer any relief. The grief of the raja was therefore intense.

Then his daughter said to him, "Oh! father, I have one word to say to you. If you do as I wish, I shall recover." The raja replied, "Tell me what it is, I shall do my best to please you." So she said, "If you find me one with hair twelve cubits long and bring him to me, I shall rally at once." The raja said, "It is well."

The raja caused diligent search to be made for the person with hair twelve cubits long. He said to a certain jugi, "You traverse the country far and near, find me the man with hair twelve cubits long." The jugi enquired everywhere, but could obtain no intelligence concerning him.

They then made up a parcel of flour and gave it to a crow, whom they sent to try and find him. The crow flew caw cawing all over the district, but returned at last and reported failure, saying, "there is not such a man in the world."

After this they again made up a small parcel of flour, and giving it to a tame paroquet, said, "Find a man with hair twelve cubits long." The paroquet, having received his orders, flew away screeching, and mounting high up into the sky, directed his course straight for the unexplored forest. In the meantime the dunghill in which Jhore resided had become a palace.

The paroquet alighted on a tree near Jhore's palace, and began to whistle. On hearing the unusual sound Jhore came out and saw the paroquet who was speaking and whistling. The paroquet also eyed him narrowly, and was delighted to see his hair trailing on the ground. By this he knew that he had found the object of his search, and with a scream of delight, he flew away to communicate the tidings to the raja.