Great indeed was the delight of Patala when her beloved Putraka once
more flew in at her window; but she was still trembling with fear for
him and begged him to go away back to his own land as quickly as
possible.
“I will not go without you,” replied Putraka. “Wrap yourself up warmly,
for it is cold flying through the air, and we will go away together,
and your cruel father shall never see you again.”
Patala wept at hearing this, for it seemed terrible to her to have to
choose between the father she loved and Putraka. But in the end her
lover got his own way, and just as those who were seeking him were
heard approaching, he seized his dear one in his arms and flew off with
her. He did not return to his own land even then, but directed his
course to the Ganges, the grand and beautiful river which the people of
India love and worship, calling it their Mother Ganga. By the banks of
the sacred stream the lovers rested, and with the aid of his magic bowl
Putraka soon had a good and delicious meal ready, which they both
enjoyed very much. As they ate, they consulted together what they had
better do now, and Patala, who was as clever as she was beautiful,
said:
“Would it not be a good thing to build a new city in this lovely place?
You could do it with your marvellous staff, could you not?”
“Why, of course, I could,” said Putraka laughing. “Why didn’t I think
of it myself?” Very soon a wonderful town rose up, which the young king
wished to be as much as possible like the home he had left, only larger
and fuller of fine buildings than it. When the town was made, he wished
it to be full of happy inhabitants, with temples in which they might
worship, priests to teach them how to be good, markets in which food
and all that was needed could be bought, tanks and rivulets full of
pure water, soldiers and officers to defend the gates, elephants on
which he and his wife could ride, everything in fact that the heart of
man or woman could desire.
The first thing Putraka and Patala did after the rise of their own
town, which they named Patali-Putra[1] after themselves, was to get
married in accordance with the rites of their religion; and for many,
many years they reigned wisely over their people, who loved them and
their children with all their hearts. Amongst the attendants on those
children was the old woman who had shown kindness to Putraka in his
loneliness and trouble. For when he told Patala the story of his life,
she reproached him for his neglect of one to whom he owed so much. She
made him feel quite ashamed of himself, and he flew away and brought
the dear old lady back with him, to her very great delight.
31. Which of the people in this story do you like best?
32. Do you think Putraka deserved all the happiness which came to him
through stealing the wand, the shoes and the bowl?
33. Can you suggest any way in which he could have atoned for the wrong
he did to the brothers whose property he took?
34. What is the chief lesson to be learnt from this story?
V.
The Jewelled Arrow.
CHAPTER I
In the city of Vardhamana in India there lived a powerful king named
Vira-Bhuja, who, as was the custom in his native land, had many wives,
each of whom had several sons. Of all his wives this king loved best
the one named Guna-Vara, and of all his sons her youngest-born, called
Sringa-Bhuja, was his favourite. Guna-Vara was not only very beautiful
but very good. She was so patient that nothing could make her angry, so
unselfish that she always thought of others before herself, and so wise
that she was able to understand how others were feeling, however
different their natures were from her own.
Sringa-Bhuja, the son of Guna-Vara, resembled his mother in her beauty
and her unselfishness; he was also very strong and very clever, whilst
his brothers were quite unlike him. They wanted to have everything
their own way, and they were very jealous indeed of their father’s love
for him. They were always trying to do him harm, and though they often
quarrelled amongst themselves, they would band together to try and hurt
him.
It was very much the same with the king’s wives. They hated Guna-Vara,
because their husband loved her more than he did them, and they
constantly came to him with stories they had made up of the wicked
things she had done. Amongst other things they told the king that
Guna-Vara did not really love him but cared more for some one else than
she did for him. The most bitter of all against her was the wife called
Ayasolekha, who was cunning enough to know what sort of tale the king
was likely to believe. The very fact that Vira-Bhuja loved Guna-Vara so
deeply made him more ready to think that perhaps after all she did not
return his affection, and he longed to find out the truth. So he in his
turn made up a story, thinking by its means to find out how she felt
for him. He therefore went one day to her private apartments, and
having sent all her attendants away, he told her he had some very sad
news for her which he had heard from his chief astrologer. Astrologers,
you know, are wise men, who are supposed to be able to read the secrets
of the stars, and learn from them things which are hidden from ordinary
human beings. Guna-Vara therefore did not doubt that what her husband
was about to tell her was true, and she listened eagerly, her heart
beating very fast in her fear that some trouble was coming to those she
loved.
Great indeed was her sorrow and surprise, when Vira-Bhuja went on to
say that the astrologer had told him that a terrible misfortune
threatened him and his kingdom and the only way to prevent it was to
shut Guna-Vara up in prison for the rest of her life. The poor queen
could hardly believe that she had heard rightly. She knew she had done
no wrong, and could not understand how putting her in prison could help
anybody. She was quite sure that her husband loved her, and no words
could have expressed her pain at the thought of being sent away from
him and her dear son. Yet she made no resistance, not even asking
Vira-Bhuja to let her see Sringa-Bhuja again. She just bowed her
beautiful head and said: “Be it unto me as my Lord wills. If he wishes
my death, I am ready to lay down my life.”
This submission made the king feel even more unhappy than before. He
longed to take his wife in his arms and tell her he would never let her
go; and perhaps if she had looked at him then, he would have seen all
her love for him in her eyes, but she remained perfectly still with
bowed head, waiting to hear what her fate was to be. Then the thought
entered Vira-Bhuja’s mind: “She is afraid to look at me: what
Ayasolekha said was true.”
1. Can true love suspect the loved one of evil?
2. Is true love ever jealous?
CHAPTER II
So the king summoned his guards and ordered them to take his wife to a
strong prison and leave her there. She went with them without making
any resistance, only turning once to look lovingly at her husband as
she was led away. Vira-Bhuja returned to his own palace and had not
been there very long when he got a message from Ayasolekha, begging him
to give her an interview, for she had something of very great
importance to tell him. The king consented at once, thinking to
himself, “perhaps she has found out that what she told me about my dear
Guna-Vara is not true.”
Great then was his disappointment when the wicked woman told him she
had discovered a plot against his life. The son of Guna-Vara and some
of the chief men of the kingdom, she said, had agreed together to kill
him, so that Sringa-Bhuja might reign in his stead. She and some of the
other wives had overheard conversations between them, and were
terrified lest their beloved Lord should be hurt. The young prince, she
declared, had had some trouble in persuading the nobles to help him,
but he had succeeded at last.
Vira-Bhuja simply could not believe this story, for he trusted his son
as much as he loved him; and he sent the mischief maker away, telling
her not to dare to enter his presence again. For all that he could not
get the matter out of his head. He had Sringa-Bhuja carefully watched;
and as nothing against him was found out, he was beginning to feel more
easy in his mind, and even to think of going to see Guna-Vara in her
prison to ask her to confide in him, when something happened which led
him to fear that after all his dear son was not true to him. This was
what made him uneasy. He had a wonderful arrow, set with precious
jewels, which had been given to him by a magician, and had the power of
hitting without fail whatever it was aimed at from however great a
distance. The very day he had meant to visit his ill-treated wife, he
missed this arrow from the place in which he kept it concealed. This
distressed him very much; and after seeking it in vain, he summoned all
those who were employed in the palace to his presence, and asked if any
of them knew anything about the arrow. He promised that he would
forgive any one who helped him to get it back, even if it were the
thief himself; but added that, if it was not found in three days, he
would have all the servants beaten until the one who had stolen it
confessed.
3. Do you think this was the best way to find out who had taken the
arrow?
4. How would you have set about learning the truth if you had been the
king?
CHAPTER III
Now the fact of the matter was that Ayasolekha, who had told the wicked
story about Guna-Vara, knew where the king kept the arrow, had taken it
to her private rooms, and had sent for her own sons and those of the
other wives, all of whom hated Sringa-Bhuja, to tell them of a plot to
get their brother into disgrace. “You know,” she said to them, “how
much better your father loves Sringa-Bhuja than he does any of you; and
that, when he dies, he will leave the kingdom and all his money to him.
Now I will help you to prevent this by getting rid of Sringa-Bhuja.
“You must have a great shooting match, in which your brother will be
delighted to take part, for he is very proud of his skill with the bow
and arrow. On the day of the match, I will send for him and give him
the jewelled arrow belonging to your father to shoot with, telling him
the king had said I might lend it to him. Your father will then think
he stole it and order him to be killed.”
The brothers were all delighted at what they thought a very clever
scheme, and did just what Ayasolekha advised. When the day came, great
crowds assembled to see the shooting at a large target set up near the
palace. The king himself and all his court were watching the scene from
the walls, and it was difficult for the guards to keep the course
clear. The brothers, beginning at the eldest, all pretended to try and
hit the target; but none of them really wished to succeed, because they
thought that, when Sringa-Bhuja’s turn came, as their father’s youngest
son, he would win the match with the jewelled arrow. Then the king
would order him to be brought before him, and he would be condemned to
death or imprisonment for life.
Now, as very often happens, something no one in the least expected
upset the carefully planned plot. Just as Sringa-Bhuja was about to
shoot at the target, a big crane flew on to the ground between him and
it, so that it was impossible for him to take proper aim. The brothers,
seeing the bird and anxious to shoot it for themselves, all began to
clamour that they should be allowed to shoot again. Nobody made any
objection, and Sringa-Bhuja stood aside, with the jewelled arrow in the
bow, waiting to see what they would do, but feeling sure that he would
be the one to kill the bird. Brother after brother tried, but the great
creature still remained untouched, when a travelling mendicant stepped
forward and cried aloud:
“That is no bird, but an evil magician who has taken that form to
deceive you all. If he is not killed before he takes his own form
again, he will bring misery and ruin upon this town and the surrounding
country.”
You know perhaps that mendicants or beggars in India are often holy men
whose advice even kings are glad to listen to; so that, when everyone
heard what this beggar said, there was great excitement and terror. For
many were the stories told of the misfortunes Rakshas or evil magicians
had brought on other cities. The brothers all wanted to try their luck
once more, but the beggar checked them, saying:
“No, no. Where is your youngest brother Sringa-Bhuja? He alone will be
able to save your homes, your wives and your children, from
destruction,”
Then Sringa-Bhuja came forward; and as the sun flashed upon the jewels
in the stolen arrow, revealing to the watching king that it was his own
beloved son who had taken it, the young prince let it fly straight for
the bird. It wounded but did not kill the crane, which flew off with
the arrow sticking in its breast, the blood dripping from it in its
flight, which became gradually slower and slower. At the sight of the
bird going off with the precious jewelled arrow, the king was filled
with rage, and sent orders that Sringa-Bhuja should be fetched to his
presence immediately. But before the messengers reached him, he had
started in pursuit of the bird, guided by the blood-drops on the
ground.
5. Did the brothers show wisdom in the plot they laid against their
brother?
6. What do you think from this story, so far as you have read it, were
the chief qualities of Sringa-Bhuja?
CHAPTER IV
As Sringa-Bhuja sped along after the crane, the beggar made some
strange signs in the air with the staff he used to help him along; and
such clouds of dust arose that no one could see in which direction the
young prince had gone. The brothers and Ayasolekha were very much
dismayed at the way things had turned out, and greatly feared that the
king’s anger would vent itself on them, now that Sringa-Bhuja had
disappeared. Vira-Bhuja did send for them, and asked them many
questions; but they all kept the secret of how Sringa-Bhuja had got the
arrow, and promised to do all they could to help to get it back. Again
the king thought he would go and see the mother of his dear youngest
son; but again something held him back, and poor Guna-Vara was left
alone, no one ever going near her except the gaoler who took her her
daily food. After trying everything possible to find out where
Sringa-Bhuja had gone, the king began to show special favour to another
of his sons; and as the months passed by, it seemed as if the young
prince and the jewelled arrow were both forgotten.
Meanwhile Sringa-Bhuja travelled on and on in the track of the drops of
blood, till he came to the outskirts of a fine forest, through which
many beaten paths led to a very great city. He sat down to rest at the
foot of a wide-spreading tree, and was gazing up at the towers and
pinnacles of the town, rising far upwards towards the sky, when he had
a feeling that he was no longer alone. He was right: for, coming slowly
along one of the paths, was a lovely young girl, singing softly to
herself in a beautiful voice. Her eyes were like those of a young doe,
and her features were perfect in their form and expression, reminding
Sringa-Bhuja of his mother, whom he was beginning to fear he would
never see again.
When the young girl was quite close to him, he startled her by saying,
“Can you tell me what is the name of this city?”
“Of course, I can,” she replied, “for I live in it. It is called
Dhuma-Pura, and it belongs to my father: he is a great magician named
Agni-Sikha, who loves not strangers. Now tell me who you are and whence
you come?”
Then Sringa-Bhuja told the maiden all about himself, and why he was
wandering so far from home. The girl, whose name was Rupa-Sikha,
listened very attentively; and when he came to the shooting of the
crane, and how he had followed the bleeding bird in the hope of getting
back his father’s jewelled arrow, she began to tremble.
“Alas, alas!” she said. “The bird you shot was my father, who can take
any form he chooses. He returned home but yesterday, and I drew the
arrow from his wound and dressed the hurt myself. He gave me the
jewelled arrow to keep, and I will never part with it. As for you, the
sooner you depart the better; for my father never forgives, and he is
so powerful that you would have no chance of escape if he knew you were
here.”
Hearing this, Sringa-Bhuja became very sad, not because he was afraid
of Agni-Sikha, but because he knew that he already loved the fair
maiden who stood beside him, and was resolved to make her his wife. She
too felt drawn towards him and did not like to think of his going away.
Besides this, she had much to fear from her father, who was as cruel as
he was mighty, and had caused the death already of many lovers who had
wished to marry her. She had never cared for any of them, and had been
content to live without a husband, spending her life in wandering about
near her home and winning the love of all who lived near her, even that
of the wild creatures of the forest, who would none of them dream of
hurting her. Often and often she stood between the wrath of her father
and those he wished to injure; for, wicked as he was, he loved her and
wanted her to be happy.
7. Do you think that a really wicked man is able to love any one truly?
8. What would have been the best thing for Sringa-Bhuja to do, when he
found out who the bird he had shot really was?
CHAPTER V
Rupa-Sikha did not take long to decide what was best for her to do. She
said to the prince, “I will give you back your golden arrow, and you
must make all possible haste out of our country before my father
discovers you are here.”
“No! no! no! a thousand times no!” cried the prince. “Now I have once
seen you, I can never, never leave you. Can you not learn to love me
and be my wife?” Then he fell prostrate at her feet, and looked up into
her face so lovingly that she could not resist him. She bent down
towards him, and the next moment they were clasped in each other’s
arms, quite forgetting all the dangers that threatened them. Rupa-Sikha
was the first to remember her father, and drawing herself away from her
lover, she said to him:
“Listen to me, and I will tell you what we must do. My father is a
magician, it is true, but I am his daughter, and I inherit some of his
powers. If only you will promise to do exactly as I tell you, I think I
may be able to save you, and perhaps even become your wife. I am the
youngest of a large family and my father’s favourite. I will go and
tell him that a great and mighty prince, hearing of his wonderful
gifts, has come to our land to ask for an interview with him. Then I
will tell him that I have seen you, fallen in love with you, and want
to marry you. He will be flattered to think his fame has spread so far,
and will want to see you, even if he refuses to let me be your wife. I
will lead you to his presence and leave you with him alone. If you
really love me, you will find the way to win his consent; but you must
keep out of his sight till I have prepared the way for you. Come with
me now, and I will show you a hiding-place.”
Rupa-Sikha then led the prince far away into the depths of the forest,
and showed him a large tree, the wide-spreading branches of which
touched the ground, completely hiding the trunk, in which there was an
opening large enough for a man to pass through. Steps cut in the inside
of the trunk led down to a wide space underground; and there the
magician’s daughter told her lover to wait for her return. “Before I
go,” she said, “I will tell you my own password, which will save you
from death if you should be discovered. It is LOTUS FLOWER; and
everyone to whom you say it, will know that you are under my
protection.”
When Rupa-Sikha reached the palace she found her father in a very bad
humour, because she had not been to ask how the wound in his breast was
getting on. She did her best to make up for her neglect; and when she
had dressed the wound very carefully, she prepared a dainty meal for
her father with her own hands, waiting upon him herself whilst he ate
it. All this pleased him, and he was in quite an amiable mood when she
said to him:
“Now I must tell you that I too have had an adventure. As I was
gathering herbs in the forest, I met a man I had never seen before, a
tall handsome young fellow looking like a prince, who told me he was
seeking the palace of a great and wonderful magician, of whose
marvellous deeds he had heard. Who could that magician have been but
you, my father?” She added, “I told him I was your daughter, and he
entreated me to ask you to grant him an interview.”
Agni-Sikha listened to all this without answering a word. He was
pleased at this fresh proof that his fame had spread far and wide; but
he guessed at once that Rupa-Sikha had not told him the whole truth. He
waited for her to go on, and as she said no more, he suddenly turned
angrily upon her and in a loud voice asked her:
“And what did my daughter answer?”
Then Rupa-Sikha knew that her secret had been discovered. And rising to
her full height, she answered proudly, “I told him I would seek you and
ask you to receive him. And now I will tell you, my father, that I have
seen the only man I will ever marry; and if you forbid me to do so, I
will take my own life, for I cannot live without him.”
“Send for the man immediately,” cried the magician, “and you shall hear
my answer when he appears before me.”
“I cannot send,” replied Rupa-Sikha, “for none knows where I have left
him; nor will I fetch him till you promise that no evil shall befall
him.”
At first Agni-Sikha laughed aloud and declared that he would do no such
thing. But his daughter was as obstinate as he was; and finding that he
could not get his own way unless he yielded to her, he said crossly:
“He shall keep his fine head on his shoulders, and leave the palace
alive; but that is all I will say.”
“But that is not enough,” said Rupa-Sikha. “Say after me, _Not a hair
of his head shall be harmed, and I will treat him as an honoured
guest_, or your eyes will never rest on him.”
At last the magician promised, thinking to himself that he would find
some way of disposing of Sringa-Bhuja, if he did not fancy him for a
son-in-law. The words she wanted to hear were hardly out of her
father’s mouth before Rupa-Sikha sped away, as if on the wings of the
wind, full of hope that all would be well. She found her lover
anxiously awaiting her, and quickly explained how matters stood. “You
had better say nothing about me to my father at first,” she said; “but
only talk about him and all you have heard of him. If only you could
get him to like you and want to keep you with him, it would help us
very much. Then you could pretend that you must go back to your own
land; and rather than allow you to do so, he will be anxious for us to
be married and to live here with him.”
9. Do you think the advice Rupa-Sikha gave to Sringa-Bhuja was good?
10. Can you suggest anything else she might have done?
CHAPTER VI
Sringa-Bhuja loved Rupa-Sikha so much that he was ready to obey her in
whatever she asked. So he at once went with her to the palace. On every
side he saw signs of the strength and power of the magician. Each gate
was guarded by tall soldiers in shining armour, who saluted Rupa-Sikha
but scowled fiercely at him. He knew full well that, if he had tried to
pass alone, they would have prevented him from doing so. At last the
two came to the great hall, where the magician was walking backwards
and forwards, working himself into a rage at being kept waiting.
Directly he looked at the prince, he knew him for the man who had shot
the jewelled arrow at him when he had taken the form of a crane, and he
determined that he would be revenged. He was too cunning to let
Sringa-Bhuja guess that he knew him, and pretended to be very glad to
see him. He even went so far as to say that he had long wished to find
a prince worthy to wed his youngest and favourite daughter. “You,” he
added, “seem to me the very man, young, handsome and—to judge from the
richness of your dress and jewels—able to give my beloved one all she
needs.”
The prince could hardly believe his ears, and Rupa-Sikha also was very
much surprised. She guessed however that her father had some evil
purpose in what he said, and looked earnestly at Sringa-Bhuja in the
hope of making him understand. But the prince was so overjoyed at the
thought that she was to be his wife that he noticed nothing. So when
Agni-Sikha added, “I only make one condition: you must promise that you
will never disobey my commands, but do whatever I tell you without a
moment’s hesitation,” Sringa-Bhuja, without waiting to think, said at
once, “Only give me your daughter and I will serve you in any way you
wish.”
“That’s settled then!” cried the magician, and he clapped his hands
together. In a moment a number of attendants appeared, and their master
ordered them to lead the prince to the best apartments in the palace,
to prepare a bath for him, and do everything he asked them.
11. What great mistake did the prince make when he gave this promise?
12. What answer should he have made?
CHAPTER VII
As Sringa-Bhuja followed the servants, Rupa-Sikha managed to whisper to
him, “Beware! await a message from me!” When he had bathed and was
arraying himself in fresh garments provided by his host, waited on,
hand and foot, by servants who treated him with the greatest respect, a
messenger arrived, bearing a sealed letter which he reverently handed
to the prince. Sringa-Bhuja guessed at once from whom it came; and
anxious to read it alone, he hastily finished his toilette and
dismissed the attendants.
“My beloved,” said the letter—which was, of course, from Rupa-Sikha—“My
father is plotting against you; and very foolish were you to promise
you would obey him in all things. I have ten sisters all exactly like
me, all wearing dresses and necklaces which are exact copies of each
other, so that few can tell me from the others. Soon you will be sent
for to the great Hall and we shall all be together there. My father
will bid you choose your bride from amongst us; and if you make a
mistake all will be over for us. But I will wear my necklace on my head
instead of round my neck, and thus will you know your own true love.
And remember, my dearest, to obey no future command without hearing
from me, for I alone am able to outwit my terrible father.”
Everything happened exactly as Rupa-Sikha described. The prince was
sent for by Agni-Sikha, who, as soon as he appeared, gave him a garland
of flowers and told him to place it round the neck of the maiden who
was his promised bride. Without a moment’s hesitation Sringa-Bhuja
picked out the right sister; and the magician, though inwardly enraged,
pretended to be so delighted at this proof of a lover’s
clear-sightedness that he cried:
“You are the son-in-law for me! The wedding shall take place
to-morrow!”
13. Can you understand how it was that the magician did not notice the
trick Rupa-Sikha had played upon him?
14. What fault blinds people to the truth more than any other?
CHAPTER VIII
When Sringa-Bhuja heard what Agni-Sikha said, he was full of joy; but
Rupa-Sikha knew well that her father did not mean a word of it. She
waited quietly beside her lover, till the magician bade all the sisters
but herself leave the hall. Then the magician, with a very wicked look
on his face, said:
“Before the ceremony there is just one little thing you must do for me,
dear son-in-law that is to be. Go outside the town, and near the most
westerly tower you will find a team of oxen and a plough awaiting you.
Close to them is a pile of three hundred bushels of sesame seed. This
you must sow this very day, or instead of a bridegroom you will be a
dead man to-morrow.”
Great was the dismay of Sringa-Bhuja when he heard this. But Rupa-Sikha
whispered to him, “Fear not, for I will help you.” Sadly the prince
left the palace alone, to seek the field outside the city; the guards,
who knew he was the accepted lover of their favourite mistress, letting
him pass unhindered. There, sure enough, near the western tower were
the oxen, the plough and a great pile of seed. Never before had poor
Sringa-Bhuja had to work for himself, but his great love for Rupa-Sikha
made him determine to do his best. So he was about to begin to guide
the oxen across the field, when, behold, all was suddenly changed.
Instead of an unploughed tract of land, covered with weeds, was a field
with rows and rows of regular furrows. The piles of seed were gone, and
flocks of birds were gathering in the hope of securing some of it as it
lay in the furrows.
As Sringa-Bhuja was staring in amazement at this beautiful scene, he
saw Rupa-Sikha, looking more lovely than ever, coming towards him. “Not
in vain,” she said to him, “am I my father’s daughter. I too know how
to compel even nature to do my will; but the danger is not over yet. Go
quickly back to the palace, and tell Agni-Sikha that his wishes are
fulfilled.”
15. Can the laws of nature ever really be broken?
16. What is the only way in which man can conquer nature?
CHAPTER IX
The magician was very angry indeed when he heard that the field was
ploughed and the seed sown. He knew at once that some magic had been at
work, and suspected that Rupa-Sikha was the cause of his
disappointment. Without a moment’s hesitation he said to the prince:
“No sooner were you gone than I decided not to have that seed sown. Go
back at once, and pile it up where it was before.”
This time Sringa-Bhuja felt no fear or hesitation, for he was sure of
the power and will to help him of his promised bride. So back he went
to the field, and there he found the whole vast space covered with
millions and millions of ants, busily collecting the seed and piling it
up against the wall of the town. Again Rupa-Sikha came to cheer him,
and again she warned him that their trials were not yet over. She
feared, she said, that her father might prove stronger than herself;
for he had many allies at neighbouring courts ready to help him in his
evil purposes. “Whatever else he orders you to do, you _must_ see me
before you leave the palace. I will send my faithful messenger to
appoint a meeting in some secret place.”
Agni-Sikha was not much surprised when the prince told him that his
last order had been obeyed, and thought to himself, “I must get this
tiresome fellow out of my domain, where that too clever child of mine
will not be able to help him.” “Well,” he said, “I suppose the wedding
must take place to-morrow after all, for I am a man of my word. We must
now set about inviting the guests. You shall have the pleasure of doing
this yourself: then my friends will know beforehand what a handsome
young son-in-law I shall have. The first person to summon to the
wedding is my brother Dhuma Sikha, who has taken up his abode in a
deserted temple a few miles from here. You must ride at once to that
temple, rein up your steed opposite it, and cry, ‘Dhuma Sikha, your
brother Agni-Sikha has sent me hither to invite you to witness my
marriage with his daughter Rupa-Sikha to-morrow. Come without delay!’
Your message given, ride back to me; and I will tell you what farther
tasks you must perform before the happy morrow dawns.”
When Sringa-Bhuja left the palace, he knew not where to seek a horse to
bear him on this new errand. But as he was nearing the gateway by which
he had gone forth to sow the field with seed, a handsome boy approached
him and said, “If my lord will follow me, I will tell him what to do.”
Somehow the voice sounded familiar; and when the guards were left far
enough behind to be out of hearing, the boy looked up at Sringa-Bhuja
with a smile that revealed Rupa-Sikha herself. “Come with me,” she
said; and taking his hand, she led him to a tree beneath which stood a
noble horse, richly caparisoned, which pawed the ground and whinnied to
its mistress, as she drew near.
“You must ride this horse,” said Rupa-Sikha, “who will obey you if you
but whisper in his ear; and you must take earth, water, wood and fire
with you, which I will give you. You must go straight to the temple,
and when you have called out your message, turn without a moment’s
delay, and ride for your life as swiftly as your steed will go, looking
behind you all the time. No guidance will be necessary; for Marut—that
is my horse’s name—knows well what he has to do.”
Then Rupa-Sikha gave Sringa-Bhuja a bowl of earth, a jar of water, a
bundle of thorns and a brazier full of burning charcoal, hanging them
by strong thongs upon the front of his saddle so that he could reach
them easily. “My father,” she told him, “has given my uncle
instructions to kill you, and he will follow you upon his swift Arab
steed. When you hear him behind you, fling earth in his path; if that
does not stop him, pour out some of the water; and if he still
perseveres, scatter the burning charcoal before him.”
17. Can you discover any hidden meaning in the use of earth, water,
thorns and fire, to stop the course of the wicked magician?
18. Do you think the prince loved Rupa-Sikha better than he loved
himself?
CHAPTER X
Away went the prince after he had received these instructions; and very
soon he found himself opposite the temple, with the images of three of
the gods worshipped in India to prove that it had been a sanctuary
before the magician took up his abode in it. Directly Sringa-Bhuja
shouted out his message to Dhuma-Sikha, the wicked dweller in the
temple came rushing forth from the gateway, mounted on a huge horse,
which seemed to be belching forth flames from its nostrils as it
bounded along. For one terrible moment Sringa-Bhuja feared that he was
lost; but Marut, putting forth all his strength, kept a little in
advance of the enemy, giving the prince time to scatter earth behind
him. Immediately a great mountain rose up, barring the road, and
Sringa-Bhuja felt that he was saved. He was mistaken: for, as he looked
back, he saw Dhuma-Sikha coming over the top of the mountain. The next
moment the magician was close upon him. So he emptied his bowl of
water: and, behold, a huge river with great waves hid pursuer and
pursued from each other. Even this did not stop the mighty Arab horse,
which swam rapidly across, the rider loudly shouting out orders to the
prince to stop. When the prince heard the hoofs striking on the dry
ground behind him again, he threw out the thorns, and a dense wood
sprouted up as if by magic, which for a few moments gave fresh hope of
safety to Sringa-Bhuja; for it seemed as if even the powerful magician
would be unable to get through it. He did succeed however; but his
clothes were nearly torn off his back, and his horse was bleeding from
many wounds made by the cruel thorns. Sringa-Bhuja too was getting
weary, and remembered that he had only one more chance of checking his
relentless enemy. He could almost feel the breath of the panting steed
as it drew near; and with a loud cry to his beloved Rupa-Sikha, he
threw the burning charcoal on the road. In an instant the grass by the
wayside, the trees overshadowing it, and the magic wood which had
sprung from the thorns, were alight, burning so fiercely that no living
thing could approach them safely. The wicked magician was beaten at
last, and was soon himself fleeing away, as fast as he could, with the
flames following after him as if they were eager to consume him.
Whether his enemy ever got back to his temple, Sringa-Bhuja never knew.
Exhausted with all he had been through, the young prince was taken back
to the palace by the faithful Marut, and there he found his dear
Rupa-Sikha awaiting him. She told him that her father had promised her
that, if the prince came back, he would oppose her marriage no longer.
“For,” he said, “if he can escape your uncle, he must be more than
mortal, and worthy even of my daughter.” “He does not in the least
expect to see you again,” added Rupa-Sikha; “and even if he allows us
to marry, he will never cease to hate you; for I am quite sure he knows
that you shot the jewelled arrow at him when he was in the form of a
crane. If I ever am your wife, he will try to punish you through me.
But have no fear: I shall know how to manage him. Fresh powers have
been lately given to me by another uncle whose magic is stronger than
that of any of my other relations.”
When Sringa-Bhuja had bathed and rested, he robed himself once more in
the garments he had worn the day he first saw Rupa-Sikha; and together
the lovers went to the great hall to seek an interview with Agni-Sikha.
The magician, who had made quite sure that he had now got rid of the
unwelcome suitor for his daughter’s hand, could not contain his rage,
at seeing him walk in with her as if the two were already wedded.
He stamped about, pouring out abuse, until he had quite exhausted
himself, the lovers looking on quietly without speaking. At last,
coming close to them, Agni-Sikha shouted, in a loud harsh voice: “So
you have not obeyed my orders. You have not bid my brother to the
wedding. Your life is forfeit, and you will die to-morrow instead of
marrying Rupa-Sikha. Describe the temple in which Dhuma Sikha lives and
the appearance of its owner.”
Then Sringa-Bhuja gave such an exact account of the temple, naming the
gods whose images still adorned it, and of the terrible man riding the
noble steed who had pursued him, that the magician was convinced
against his will; and knowing that he must keep his word to Rupa-Sikha,
he gave his consent for the preparations for the marriage on the morrow
to begin.
19. What is your opinion of the character of Agni-Sikha?
20. Do you think he was at all justified in the way in which he treated
his daughter and Sringa-Bhuja?
CHAPTER XI
The marriage was celebrated the next day with very great pomp; and a
beautiful suite of rooms was given to the bride and bridegroom, who
could not in spite of this feel safe or happy, because they knew full
well that Agni-Sikha hated them. The prince soon began to feel
home-sick and anxious to introduce his beautiful wife to his own
people. He remembered that he had left his dear mother in prison, and
reproached himself for having forgotten her for so long. So he said to
Rupa-Sikha:
“Let us go, beloved, to my native city, Vardhamana. My heart yearns
after my dear ones there, and I would fain introduce you to them.”
“My lord,” replied Rupa-Sikha, “I will go with you whither you will,
were it even to the ends of the earth. But we must not let my father
guess we mean to go; for he would forbid us to leave the country and
set spies to watch our every movement. We will steal away secretly,
riding together on my faithful Marut and taking with us only what we
can carry.” “And my jewelled arrow,” said the prince, “that I may give
it back to my father and explain to him how I lost it. Then shall I be
restored to his favour, and maybe he will forgive my mother also.”
“Have no fear,” answered Rupa-Sikha: “all will surely go well with us.
Forget not that new powers have been given to me, which will save us
from my father and aid me to rescue my dear one’s mother from her evil
fate.”
Before the dawn broke on the next day, the two set forth unattended,
Marut seeming to take pride in his double burden and bearing them along
so swiftly that they had all but reached the bounds of the country
under the dominion of Agni-Sikha as the sun rose. Just as they thought
they were safe from pursuit, they heard a loud rushing noise behind;
and looking round, they saw the father of the bride close upon them on
his Arab steed, with sword uplifted in his hand to strike. “Fear not,”
whispered Rupa-Sikha to her husband. “I will show you now what I can
do.” And waving her arms to and fro, as she muttered some strange
words, she changed herself into an old woman and Sringa-Bhuja into an
old man, whilst Marut became a great pile of wood by the road-side.
When the angry father reached the spot, the bride and bridegroom were
busily gathering sticks to add to the pile, seemingly too absorbed in
their work to take any notice of the angry magician, who shouted out to
them:
“Have you seen a man and a woman pass along this way?”
The old woman straightened herself, and peering, up into his face,
said:
“No; we are too busy over our work to notice anything else.”
“And what, pray, are you doing in my wood?” asked Agni-Sikha.
“We are helping to collect the fuel for the pyre of the great magician
Agni-Sikha,” answered Rupa-Sikha. “Do you not know that he died
yesterday?”
The Hindus of India do not bury but burn the dead; so that it was quite
a natural thing for the people of the land over which the magician
ruled to collect the materials for the pyre or heap of wood on which
his body would be laid to be burnt. What surprised Agni-Sikha, and in
fact nearly took his breath away, was to be quietly told that he was
dead. He began to think that he was dreaming, and said to himself, “I
cannot really be dead without knowing it, so I must be asleep.” And he
quietly turned his horse round and rode slowly home again. This was
just what his daughter wanted; and as soon as he was out of sight, she
turned herself, her husband and Marut, into their natural forms again,
laughing merrily, as she did so, at the thought of the ease with which
she had got rid of her father.
21. Do you think it was clever of Rupa-Sikha to make up this story?
22. Do you think it is better to believe all that you are told or to be
more ready to doubt when anything you hear seems to be unusual?
CHAPTER XII
Once more the bride and bridegroom set forth on their way, and once
more they soon heard Agni-Sikha coming after them. For when he got back
to his palace, and the servants hastened out to take his horse, he
guessed that a trick had been played on him. He did not even dismount,
but just turned his horse’s head round and galloped back again. “If
ever,” he thought to himself, “I catch those two young people, I’ll
make them wish they had obeyed me. Yes, they shall suffer for it. I am
not going to stand being defied like this.”
This time Rupa-Sikha contented herself with making her husband and
Marut invisible, whilst she changed herself into a letter-carrier,
hurrying along the road as if not a moment was to be lost. She took no
notice of her father, till he reined up his steed and shouted to her:
“Have you seen a man and woman on horseback pass by?”
“No, indeed,” she said: “I have a very important letter to deliver, and
could think of nothing but making all the haste possible.”
“And what is this important letter about?” asked Agni-Sikha. “Can you
tell me that?”
“Oh, yes, I can tell you that,” she said. “But where can you have been,
not to have heard the terrible news about the ruler of this land?”
“You can’t tell me anything I don’t know about him,” answered the
magician, “for he is my greatest friend.”
“Then you know that he is dying from a wound he got in a battle with
his enemies only yesterday. I am to take this letter to his brother
Dhuma-Sikha, bidding him come to see him before the end.”
Again Agni-Sikha wondered if he were dreaming, or if he were under some
strange spell and did not really know who he was? Being able, as he
was, to cast spells on other people, he was ready to fancy the same
thing had befallen him. He said nothing when he heard that he was
wounded, and was about to turn back again when Rupa-Sikha said to him:
“As you are on horseback and can get to Dhuma-Sikha’s temple quicker
than I can, will you carry the message of his brother’s approaching
death to him for me, and bid him make all possible haste if he would
see him alive?”
This was altogether too much for the magician, who became sure that
there was something very wrong about him. He knew he was not wounded or
dying, but he thought he must be ill of fever, fancying he heard what
he did not. He stared fixedly at his daughter, and she stared up at
him, half-afraid he might find out who she was, but he never guessed.
“Do your own errands,” he said at last; and slashing his poor innocent
horse with his whip, he wheeled round and dashed home again as fast as
he could. Again his servants ran out to receive him, and he gloomily
dismounted, telling them to send his chief councillor to him in his
private apartments. Shut up with him, he poured out all his troubles,
and the councillor advised him to see his physician without any delay,
for he felt sure that these strange fancies were caused by illness.
The doctor, when he came, was very much puzzled, but he looked as wise
as he could, ordered perfect rest and all manner of disagreeable
medicines. He was very much surprised at the change he noticed in his
patient, who, instead of angrily declaring that there was nothing the
matter with him, was evidently in a great fright about his health. He
shut himself up for many days, and it was a long time before he got
over the shock he had received, and then it was too late for him to be
revenged or the lovers.
23. Can you explain what casting a spell means?
24. Can you give an instance of a spell being cast on any one you have
heard of?
CHAPTER XIII
Having really got rid of Agni-Sikha, Rupa-Sikha and her husband were
very soon out of his reach and in the country belonging to
Sringa-Bhuja’s father, who had bitterly mourned the loss of his
favourite son. When the news was brought to him that two strangers, a
handsome young man and a beautiful woman, who appeared to be husband
and wife, had entered his capital, he hastened forth to meet them,
hoping that perhaps they could give him news of Sringa-Bhuja. What was
his joy when he recognised his dear son, holding the jewelled arrow,
which had led him into such trouble, in his right hand, as he guided
Marut with his left! The king flung himself from his horse, and
Sringa-Bhuja, giving the reins to Rupa-Sikha, also dismounted. The next
moment he was in his father’s arms, everything forgotten and forgiven
in the happy reunion.
Great was the rejoicing over Sringa-Bhuja’s return and hearty was the
welcome given to his beautiful bride, who quickly won all hearts but
those of the wicked wives and sons who had tried to harm her husband
and his mother. They feared the anger of the king, when he found out
how they had deceived him, and they were right to fear. Sringa-Bhuja’s
very first act was to plead for his mother to be set free. He would not
tell any of his adventures, he said, till she could hear them too; and
the king, full of remorse for the way he had treated her, went with him
to the prison in which she had been shut up all this time. What was
poor Guna-Vara’s joy, when the two entered the place in which she had
shed so many tears! She could not at first believe her eyes or ears,
but soon she realised that her sufferings were indeed over. She could
not be quite happy till her beloved husband said he knew she had never
loved any one but him. She had been accused falsely, she said, and she
wanted the woman who had told a lie about her to be made to own the
truth.
This was done in the presence of the whole court, and when judgment had
been passed upon Ayasolekha, the brothers of Sringa-Bhuja were also
brought before their father, who charged them with having deceived him.
They too were condemned, and all the culprits would have been taken to
prison and shut up for the rest of their lives, if those they had
injured had not pleaded for their forgiveness. Guna-Vara and her son
prostrated themselves at the foot of the throne, and would not rise
till they had won pardon for their enemies. Ayasolekha and the brothers
were allowed to go free; but Sringa-Bhuja, though he was the youngest
of all the princes, was proclaimed heir to the crown after his father’s
death. His brothers, however, never ceased to hate him; and when he
came to the throne, they gave him a great deal of trouble. He had many
years of happiness with his wife and parents before that, and never
regretted the mistake about the jewelled arrow; since but for it he
would, he knew, never have seen his beloved Rupa-Sikha.
25. What is the chief lesson to be learnt from this story?
26. Do you think it was good for those who had told lies about
Guna-Vara and her son to be forgiven so easily?
27. Can you give any instances of good coming out of evil and of evil
coming out of what seemed good?
28. Do you think Rupa-Sikha deserved all the happiness that came to
her?
VI.
The Beetle and the Silken Thread.[2]
CHAPTER I
The strange adventures related in the story of the Beetle and the
Silken Thread took place in the town of Allahabad, “the City of God,”
so called because it is situated near the point of meeting of the two
sacred rivers of India, the Ganges, which the Hindus lovingly call
Mother Ganga because they believe its waters can wash away their sins,
and the Jumna, which they consider scarcely less holy.
The ruler of Allahabad was a very selfish and hot-tempered Raja named
Surya Pratap, signifying “Powerful as the Sun,” who expected everybody
to obey him without a moment’s delay, and was ready to punish in a very
cruel manner those who hesitated to do so. He would never listen to a
word of explanation, or own that he had been mistaken, even when he
knew full well that he was in the wrong. He had a mantri, that is to
say, a chief vizier or officer, whom he greatly trusted, and really
seemed to be fond of, for he liked to have him always near him. The
vizier was called Dhairya-Sila, or “the Patient One,” because he never
lost his temper, no matter what provocation he received. He had a
beautiful house, much money and many jewels, carriages to drive about
in, noble horses to ride and many servants to wait upon him, all given
to him by his master. But what he loved best of all was his faithful
wife, Buddhi-Mati, or “the Sensible One,” whom he had chosen for
himself, and who would have died for him.
Many of the Raja’s subjects were jealous of Dhairya-Sila, and
constantly brought accusations against him, of none of which his master
took any notice, except to punish those who tried to set him against
his favourite. It really seemed as if nothing would ever bring harm to
Dhairya-Sila; but he often told his wife that such good fortune was not
likely to last, and that she must be prepared for a change before long.
It turned out that he was right. For one day Surya Pratap ordered him
to do what he considered would be a shameful deed. He refused; telling
his master that he was wrong to think of such a thing, and entreating
him to give up his purpose. “All your life long,” he said, “you will
wish you had listened to me; for your conscience will never let you
rest!”
On hearing these brave words, Surya Pratap flew into a terrible rage,
summoned his guards, and ordered them to take Dhairya-Sila outside the
city to a very lofty tower, and leave him at the top of it, without
shelter from the sun and with nothing to eat or drink. The guards were
at first afraid to touch the vizier, remembering how others had been
punished for only speaking against him. Seeing their unwillingness, the
Raja got more and more angry; but Dhairya-Sila himself kept quite calm,
and said to the soldiers:
“I go with you gladly. It is for the master to command and for me to
obey.”
1. What is the best way to learn to keep calm in an emergency?
2. Why does too much power have a bad influence on those who have it?
CHAPTER II
The guards were relieved to find they need not drag the vizier away;
for they admired his courage and felt sure that the Raja would soon
find he could not get on without him. It might go hardly with them if
he suffered harm at their hands. So they only closed in about him; and
holding himself very upright, Dhairya-Sila walked to the tower as if he
were quite glad to go. In his heart however he knew full well that it
would need all his skill to escape with his life.
When her husband did not come home at night, Buddhi-Mati was very much
distressed. She guessed at once that something had gone wrong, and set
forth to try and find out what had happened. This was easy enough; for
as she crept along, with her veil closely held about her lest she
should be recognised, she passed groups of people discussing the
terrible fate that had befallen the favourite. She decided that she
must wait until midnight, when the streets would be deserted and she
could reach the tower unnoticed. It was almost dark when she got there,
but in the dim light of the stars she made out the form of him she
loved better than herself, leaning over the edge of the railing at the
top.
“Is my dear lord still alive?” she whispered, “and is there anything I
can do to help him?”
“You can do everything that is needed to help me,” answered
Dhairya-Sila quietly, “if you only obey every direction I give you. Do
not for one moment suppose that I am in despair. I am more powerful
even now than my master, who has but shown his weakness by attempting
to harm me. Now listen to me. Come to-morrow night at this very hour,
bringing with you the following things: first, a beetle; secondly,
sixty yards of the finest silk thread, as thin as a spider’s web;
thirdly, sixty yards of cotton thread, as thin as you can get it, but
very strong; fourthly, sixty yards of good stout twine; fifthly, sixty
yards of rope, strong enough to carry my weight; and last, but
certainly not least, one drop of the purest bees’ honey.”
3. Do you think the vizier thought of all these things before or after
he was taken to the tower?
4. What special quality did he display in the way in which he faced his
position on the tower?
CHAPTER III
Buddhi-Mati listened very attentively to these strange instructions,
and began to ask questions about them. “Why do you want the beetle? Why
do you want the honey?” and so on. But her husband checked her. “I have
no strength to waste in explanations,” he said. “Go home in peace,
sleep well, and dream of me.” So the anxious wife went meekly away; and
early the next day she set to work to obey the orders she had received.
She had some trouble in obtaining fine enough silk, so very, very thin
it had to be, like a spider’s web; but the cotton, twine and rope were
easily bought; and to her surprise she was not asked what she wanted
them for. It took her a good while to choose the beetle. For though she
had a vague kind of idea that the silk, the cotton, twine, and rope,
were to help her husband get down from the tower, she could not imagine
what share the beetle and the honey were to take. In the end she chose
a very handsome, strong-looking, brilliantly coloured fellow who lived
in the garden of her home and whom she knew to be fond of honey.
5. Can you guess how the beetle and the honey were to help in saving
Dhairya-Sila?
6. Do you think it would have been better if the vizier had told his
wife how all the things he asked for were to be used?
CHAPTER IV
All the time Buddhi-Mati was at work for her husband, she was thinking
of him and looking forward to the happy day of his return home. She had
such faith in him that she did not for a moment doubt that he would
escape; but she was anxious about the future, feeling sure that the
Raja would never forgive Dhairya-Sila for being wiser than himself.
Exactly at the time fixed the faithful wife appeared at the foot of the
tower, with all the things she had been told to bring with her.
“Is all well with my lord?” she whispered, as she gazed up through the
darkness. “I have the silken thread as fine as gossamer, the cotton
thread, the twine, the rope, the beetle and the honey.”
“Yes,” answered Dhairya-Sila, “all is still well with me. I have slept
well, feeling confident that my dear one would bring all that is needed
for my safety; but I dread the great heat of another day, and we must
lose no time in getting away from this terrible tower. Now attend most
carefully to all I bid you do; and remember not to speak loud, or the
sentries posted within hearing will take alarm and drive you away.
First of all, tie the end of the silken thread round the middle of the
beetle, leaving all its legs quite free. Then rub the drop of honey on
its nose, and put the little creature on the wall, with its nose turned
upwards towards me. It will smell the honey, but will not guess that it
carries it itself, and it will crawl upwards in the hope of getting to
the hive from which that honey came. Keep the rest of the silk firmly
held, and gradually unwind it as the beetle climbs up. Mind you do not
let it slip, for my very life depends on that slight link with you.”
7. Which do you think had the harder task to perform—the husband at the
top of the tower or the wife at the foot of it?
8. Do you think the beetle was likely to imagine it was on the way to a
hive of bees when it began to creep up the tower?
CHAPTER V
Buddhi-Mati, though her hands shook and her heart beat fast as she
realized all that depended on her, kept the silk from becoming
entangled; and when it was nearly all unwound, she heard her husband’s
voice saying to her: “Now tie the cotton thread to the end of the silk
that you hold, and let it gradually unwind.” She obeyed, fully
understanding now what all these preparations were for.
When the little messenger of life reached the top of the tower,
Dhairya-Sila took it up in his hand and very gently unfastened the
silken thread from its body. Then he placed the beetle carefully in a
fold of his turban, and began to pull the silken thread up—very, very
slowly, for if it had broken, his wonderful scheme would have come to
an end. Presently he had the cotton thread in his fingers, and he broke
off the silk, wound it up, and placed it too in his turban. It had done
its duty well, and he would not throw it away.
“Half the work is done now,” he whispered to his faithful wife. “You
have all but saved me now. Take the twine and tie it to the end of the
cotton thread.”
Very happily Buddhi-Mati obeyed once more; and soon the cotton thread
and twine were also laid aside, and the strong rope tied to the last
was being quickly dragged up by the clever vizier, who knew that all
fear of death from sunstroke or hunger was over. When he had all the
rope on the tower, he fastened one end of it to the iron railing which
ran round the platform on which he stood, and very quickly slid down to
the bottom, where his wife was waiting for him, trembling with joy.
9. Do you see anything very improbable in the account of what the
beetle did?
10. If the beetle had not gone straight up the tower, what do you think
would have happened?
CHAPTER VI
After embracing his wife and thanking her for saving him, the vizier
said to her: “Before we return home, let us give thanks to the great
God who helped me in my need by putting into my head the device by
which I escaped.” The happy pair then prostrated themselves on the
ground, and in fervent words of gratitude expressed their sense of what
the God they worshipped had done for them. “And now,” said
Dhairya-Sila, “the next thing we have to do is to take the dear little
beetle which was the instrument of my rescue back to the place it came
from.” And taking off his turban, he showed his wife the tiny creature
lying in the soft folds.
Buddhi-Mati led her husband to the garden where she had found the
beetle, and Dhairya-Sila laid it tenderly on the ground, fetched some
food for it, such as he knew it loved, and there left it to take up its
old way of life. The rest of the day he spent quietly in his own home
with his wife, keeping out of sight of his servants, lest they should
report his return to his master. “You must never breathe a word to any
one of how I escaped,” Dhairya-Sila said, and his wife promised that
she never would.
11. When the vizier got this promise, what did he forget which could
betray how he got down from the tower, if any one went to look at it?
12. Do you think there was any need for the vizier to tell his wife to
keep his secret?
CHAPTER VII
All this time the Raja was feeling very unhappy, for he thought he had
himself caused the death of the one man he could trust. He was too
proud to let anybody know that he missed Dhairya-Sila, and was longing
to send for him from the tower before it was too late. What then was
his relief and surprise when a message was brought to him that the
vizier was at the door of the palace and begged for an interview.
“Bring him in at once,” cried Surya Pratap. And the next moment
Dhairya-Sila stood before his master, his hands folded on his breast
and his head bent in token of his submission. The attendants looked on,
eager to know how he had got down from the tower, some of them anything
but glad to see him back. The Raja took care not to show how delighted
he was to see him, and pretending to be angry, he said:
“How dare you come into my presence, and which of my subjects has
ventured to help you to escape the death on the tower you so richly
deserved?”
“None of your subjects, great and just and glorious ruler,” replied
Dhairya-Sila, “but the God who created us both, making you my master
and me your humble servant. It was that God,” he went on, “who saved
me, knowing that I was indeed guiltless of any crime against you. I had
not been long on the tower when help came to me in the form of a great
and noble eagle, which appeared above me, hovering with outspread
wings, as if about to swoop down upon me and tear me limb from limb. I
trembled greatly, but I need have had no fear; for instead of harming
me, the bird suddenly lifted me up in its talons and, flying rapidly
through the air, landed me upon the balcony of my home and disappeared.
Great indeed was the joy of my wife at my rescue from what seemed to be
certain death; but I tore myself away from her embraces, to come and
tell my lord how heaven had interfered to prove my innocence.”
Fully believing that a miracle had taken place, Surya Pratap asked no
more questions, but at once restored Dhairya-Sila to his old place as
vizier, taking care not again to ill-treat the man he now believed to
be under the special care of God. Though he certainly did not deserve
it, the vizier prospered greatly all the rest of his life and as time
went on he became the real ruler of the kingdom, for the Raja depended
on his advice in everything. He grew richer and richer, but he was
never really happy again, remembering the lie he had told to the master
to whom he owed so much. Buddhi-Mati could never understand why he made
up the story about the eagle, and constantly urged him to tell the
truth. She thought it was really far more wonderful that a little
beetle should have been the means of rescuing him, than that a strong
bird should have done so; and she wanted everyone to know what a very
clever husband she had. She kept her promise never to tell anyone what
really happened, but the secret came out for all that. By the time it
was known, however, Dhairya-Sila was so powerful that no one could harm
him, and when he died his son took his place as vizier.
13. What lessons can be learnt from this story?
14. What do you think was Dhairya-Sila’s motive for telling the Raja
the lie about the eagle?
15. What did Surya Pratap’s ready belief in the story show?
16. How do you think the secret the husband and wife kept so well was
discovered?
VII.
A Crow and His Three Friends
CHAPTER I
In the branches of a great tree, in a forest in India, lived a wise old
crow in a very comfortable, well-built nest. His wife was dead, and all
his children were getting their own living; so he had nothing to do but
to look after himself. He led a very easy existence, but took a great
interest in the affairs of his neighbours. One day, popping his head
over the edge of his home, he saw a fierce-looking man stalking along,
carrying a stick in one hand and a net in the other.
“That fellow is up to some mischief, I’ll be bound,” thought the crow:
“I will keep my eye on him.” The man stopped under the tree, spread the
net on the ground; and taking a bag of rice out of his pocket, he
scattered the grains amongst the meshes of the net. Then he hid himself
behind the trunk of the tree from which the crow was watching,
evidently intending to stop there and see what would happen. The crow
felt pretty sure that the stranger had designs against birds, and that
the stick had something to do with the matter. He was quite right; and
it was not long before just what he expected came to pass.
A flock of pigeons, led by a specially fine bird who had been chosen
king because of his size and the beauty of his plumage, came flying
rapidly along, and noticed the white rice, but did not see the net,
because it was very much the same colour as the ground. Down swooped
the king, and down swept all the other pigeons, eager to enjoy a good
meal without any trouble to themselves. Alas, their joy was short
lived! They were all caught in the net and began struggling to escape,
beating the air with their wings and uttering loud cries of distress.
The crow and the man behind the tree kept very quiet, watching them;
the man with his stick ready to beat the poor helpless birds to death,
the crow watching out of mere curiosity. Now a very strange and
wonderful thing came to pass. The king of the pigeons, who had his wits
about him, said to the imprisoned birds:
“Take the net up in your beaks, all of you spread out your wings at
once, and fly straight up into the air as quickly as possible.”
1. What special qualities did the king display when he gave these
orders to his subjects?
2. Can you think of any other advice the king might have given?
CHAPTER II
In a moment all the pigeons, who were accustomed to obey their leader,
did as they were bid; each little bird seized a separate thread of the
net in his beak and up, up, up, they all flew, looking very beautiful
with the sunlight gleaming on their white wings. Very soon they were
out of sight; and the man, who thought he had hit upon a very clever
plan, came forth from his hiding-place, very much surprised at what had
happened. He stood gazing up after his vanished net for a little time,
and then went away muttering to himself, whilst the wise old crow
laughed at him.