of the tailors, in throwing away their shreds of cloth, threw a
scarlet thread on Sachúlí's coat. "Oh," said Sachúlí, when he saw the
thread, "now I shall die!" "How do you know that?" said the tailors.
"A man told me that when I found a scarlet thread on my jacket, I
should die," said Sachúlí; and the tailors all laughed at him and made
fun of him, but he went off into the jungle and dug his grave with his
axe, and lay down in it. In the night a sepoy came by with a large jar
of ghee on his head. "How heavy this jar is," said the sepoy. "Is
there no cooly that will come and carry my ghee home for me? I would
give him four pice for his trouble." Up jumped Sachúlí out of his
grave. "I'll carry it for you," said he. "Who are you?" said the
sepoy, much frightened. "Oh, I am a man who is dead," said Sachúlí,
"and I am tired of lying here. I can't lie here any more." "Well,"
said the sepoy, very much frightened, "you may carry my ghee." So
Sachúlí put the jar on his head, and he went on, with the sepoy
following. "Now," said Sachúlí, "with these four pice I will buy a
hen, and I will sell the hen and her eggs, and with the money I get
for them I will buy a goat; and then I will sell the goat and her milk
and her hide and buy a cow, and I will sell her milk; and then I will
marry a wife, and then I shall have some children, and they will say
to me, 'Father, will you have some rice?' and I will say, 'No, I won't
have any rice.'" And as he said, "No, I won't have any rice," he shook
his head, and down came the jar of ghee, and the jar was smashed, and
the ghee spilled. "Oh, dear! what have you done?" cried the sepoy.
"Why did you shake your head?" "Because my children asked me to have
some rice, and I did not want any, so I shook my head," said Sachúlí.
"Oh," said the sepoy, "he is an utter idiot." And the sepoy went home,
and Sachúlí went back to his mother. "Why have you come back?" said
she. "I have been dead twelve years," said Sachúlí. "What lies you
tell!" said she. "You have only been away a few days. Be off! I don't
want any liars here."
Sachúlí asked her to give him two flour-cakes, which she did, and he
went off to the jungle, and it was night. Five fairies lived in this
jungle, and as Sachúlí went along, he broke his flour-cakes into five
pieces, and said, "Now I'll eat one, then the second, then the third,
then the fourth, and then the fifth." And the fairies heard him and
were afraid, and said to each other, "What shall we do? Here is this
man, and he is going to eat us all up. What shall we do to save
ourselves? We will give him something." So they went out all five, and
said to Sachúlí, "If only you won't eat us, we will give you a
present." Now Sachúlí did not know there were fairies in this jungle.
"What will you give me?" said Sachúlí. "We will give you a
cooking-pot. When you want anything to eat, all you have to do is to
ask the pot for it, and you will get it." Sachúlí took the pot and
went off to the bazar. He stopped at a cook-shop, and asked for some
pilau. "Pilau? There's no pilau here," said the shopman. "Well," said
Sachúlí, "I have a cooking-pot here, and I have only to ask it for any
dish I want, and I get it at once." "What nonsense!" said the man.
"Just see," said Sachúlí; and he said to the cooking-pot, "I want some
pilau," and immediately the pot was full of pilau, and all the people
in the shop set to work to help him to eat it up, it was so good.
"Oh," thought the cook, "I must have that pot," so he gave Sachúlí a
sleepy drink. Then Sachúlí went to sleep, and while he slept the cook
stole the fairy cooking-pot, and put a common cooking-pot in its
place. Sachúlí went home with the cook's pot, and said, "Mother, I
have brought home a cooking-pot. If you ask it for any food you want,
you will get it." "Nonsense," said Hungní; "what lies you are
telling!" "It is quite true, mother; only see," and he asked the pot
for different dishes, but none came. Hungní was furious. "Go away,"
she said. "Why do you come back to me? I want no liars here." "Give me
five flour-cakes and I will go," said her son. So she baked the bread
for him, and he set off for the jungle where he had met the five
fairies, and as he went along he said, "I will eat one, and I will eat
two, and I will eat three, and I will eat four, and I will eat five."
The five fairies heard him, and were terrified. "Here is this bad man
again," said they, "and he will eat us all five. Oh, what shall we do?
Let us give him a present." So they went to Sachúlí, and said, "Here
is a box for you. Whenever you want any clothes you have only to tell
this box, and it will give them to you; take it, and don't eat us." So
he took the box and went to the bazar, and he stopped at the cook-shop
again, and asked the cook for a red silk dress, and a pair of long
black silk trousers, and a blue silk turban, and a pair of red shoes,
and the cook laughed and asked how he should have such beautiful
things. "Well," said Sachúlí, "here is a box; when I ask it for the
dress and trousers, and turban and shoes, I shall get them." So the
cook laughed at him. "Just see," said Sachúlí, and he said, "Box, give
me a red silk dress and a pair of long black silk trousers, and a blue
silk turban, and red shoes," and there they were at once. And the cook
was delighted, and said to himself, "I will have that box," and he
gave Sachúlí a good dinner and a sleepy drink, and Sachúlí fell fast
asleep. While he slept the cook came and stole the fairy box, and put
a common box in its place. In the morning Sachúlí went home to his
mother and said, "Mother, I've brought you a box. You have only to ask
it for any clothes you may want, and you will get them." "Nonsense,"
said his mother, "don't tell me such lies." "Only see, mother; I am
telling you truth," said he. He asked the box for coats and all sorts
of things--no; he got nothing. His mother was very angry, and said,
"You liar! you naughty boy! Go away and don't come back any more." And
she broke the box to pieces, and threw the bits away. "Well, mother,
bake me some flour-cakes." So she baked him the cakes and gave them to
him, and sent him away. He went off to the fairies' jungle, and as he
went he said, "Now I'll eat one, then two, then three, then four, then
five." The five fairies were very frightened. "Here is this man come
back to eat us all five. Let us give him a present." So they went to
him and gave him a rope and stick, and said, "Only say to this rope,
'Bind that man,' and he will be tied up at once; and to this stick,
'Beat that man,' and the stick will beat him." Sachúlí was very glad
to get these things, for he guessed what had happened to his
cooking-pot and box. So he went to the bazar, and at the cook-shop he
said, "Rope, bind all these men that are here!" and the cook and every
one in the shop were tied up instantly. Then Sachúlí said, "Stick,
beat these men!" and the stick began to beat them. "Oh, stop, stop
beating us, and untie, and I'll give you your pot and your box!" cried
the cook. "No, I won't stop beating you, and I won't untie you till I
have my pot and my box." And the cook gave them both to him, and he
untied the rope. Then Sachúlí went home, and when his mother saw him,
she was very angry, but he showed her the box and the cooking-pot, and
she saw he had told her the truth. So she sent for the doctor, and he
declared Sachúlí was wise and not silly, and he and Hungní found a
wife for Sachúlí, and made a grand wedding for him, and they lived
happily ever after.
Told by Dunkní.
[Decoration]
VIII.
BARBER HÍM AND THE TIGERS.
Once there lived a barber called Hím, who was very poor indeed. He had
a wife and twelve children, five boys and seven girls: now and then he
got a few pice. One day he went away from his home feeling very cross,
and left his wife and children to get on as best they could. "What can
I do?" said he. "I have not enough money to buy food for my family,
and they are crying for it." And so he walked on till he came to a
jungle. It was night when he got there. This jungle was called the
"tigers' jungle," because only tigers lived in it; no birds, no
insects, no other animals, and there were four hundred tigers in it
altogether. As soon as Barber Hím reached the jungle he saw a great
tiger walking about. "What shall I do?" cried he. "This tiger is sure
to eat me." And he took his razor and his razor-strap, and began to
sharpen his razor. Then he went close up to the tiger, still
sharpening his razor. The tiger was much frightened. "What shall I
do?" said the tiger; "this man will certainly gash me." "I have come,"
said the barber, "to catch twenty tigers by order of Mahárájá Káns.
You are one, and I want nineteen more." The tiger, greatly alarmed,
answered, "If you won't catch us, I will give you as much gold and as
many jewels as you can carry." For these tigers used to go out and
carry off the men and women from the villages, and some of these
people had rupees, and some had jewels, all of which the tigers used
to collect together. "Good," said Hím, "then I won't catch you." The
tiger led him to the spot where all the tigers used to eat their
dinners, and the barber took as much gold and as many jewels as he
could carry, and set off home with them.
Then he built a house, and bought his children pretty clothes and good
food, and necklaces, and they all lived very happily for some time.
But at last he wanted more rupees, so he set off to the tigers'
jungle. There he met the tiger as he did before, and he told him the
Mahárájá Káns had sent him to catch twenty tigers. The tiger was
terrified and said, "If you will only not catch us, I will give you
more gold and jewels." To this the barber agreed, and the tiger led
him to the old spot, and the barber took as many jewels and rupees as
he could carry. Then he returned home.
One day a very poor man, a fakír, said to him, "How did you manage to
become so rich? In old days you were so poor you could hardly support
your family."
"I will tell you," said Hím. And he told him all about his visits to
the tigers' jungle. "But don't you go there for gold to-night,"
continued the barber. "Let me go and listen to the tigers talking. If
you like, you can come with me. Only you must not be frightened if the
tigers roar."
"I'll not be frightened," said the fakír.
So that evening at eight o'clock they went to the tigers' jungle.
There the barber and the fakír climbed into a tall thick tree, and its
leaves came all about them and sheltered them as if they were in a
house. The tigers used to hold their councils under this tree. Very
soon all the tigers in the jungle assembled together under it, and
their Rájá--a great, huge beast, with only one eye--came too.
"Brothers," said the tiger who had given the barber the rupees and
jewels, "a man has come here twice to catch twenty of us for the
Mahárájá Káns; now we are only four hundred in number, and if twenty
of us were taken away we should be only a small number, so I gave him
each time as many rupees and jewels as he could carry and he went away
again. What shall we do if he returns?" The tigers said they would
meet again on the morrow, and then they would settle the matter. Then
the tigers went off, and the barber and the fakír came down from the
tree. They took a quantity of rupees and jewels and returned to their
homes.
"To-morrow," said they, "we will come again and hear what the tigers
say."
The next day the barber went alone to the tigers' jungle, and there he
met his tiger again. "This time," said he, "I am come to cut off the
ears of all the four hundred tigers who live in this jungle; for
Mahárájá Káns wants them to make into medicine."
The tiger was greatly frightened, much more so than at the other
times. "Don't cut off our ears; pray don't," said he, "for then we
could not hear, and it would hurt so horribly. Go and cut off all the
dogs' ears instead, and I will give you rupees and jewels as much as
two men can carry." "Good," said the barber, and he made two journeys
with the rupees and jewels from the jungle to the borders of his
village, and there he got a cooly to help him to carry them to his
house.
At night he and the fakír went again to the great tree under which the
tigers held their councils. Now the tiger who had given the barber so
many rupees and jewels had made ready a great quantity of meat, fowls,
chickens, geese, men the tigers had killed--everything he had been
able to get hold of--and he made them into a heap under the tree, for
he said that after the tigers had settled the matter they would dine.
Soon the tigers arrived with their Rájá, and the barber's tiger said,
"Brothers, what are we to do? This man came again to-day to cut off
all our ears to make medicine for Mahárájá Káns. I told him this
would be a bad business for us, and that he must go and cut off all
the dogs' ears instead; and I gave him as much money and jewels as two
men could carry. So he went home. Now what shall we do? We must leave
this jungle, and where shall we go?" The other tigers said, "We will
not leave the jungle. If this man comes again we will eat him up." So
they dined and went away, saying they would meet again to-morrow.
After the tigers had gone, the barber and fakír came down from the
tree and went off to their homes, without taking any rupees or jewels
with them. They agreed to return the next evening.
Next evening back they came and climbed into the great tree. The
tigers came too, and the barber's tiger told his story all over again.
The tiger Rájá sat up and said, fiercely, "We will not leave this
jungle. Should the man come again, I will eat him myself." When the
fakír heard this he was so frightened that he tumbled down out of the
tree into the midst of the tigers. The barber instantly cried out with
a loud voice, "Now cut off their ears! cut off their ears!" and the
tigers, terrified, ran away as fast as they could. Then the barber
took the fakír home, but the poor man was so much hurt by his fall
that he died.
The barber lived happily ever after, but he took good care never to go
to the tigers' jungle again.
Told by Dunkní.
[Decoration]
[Decoration]
IX.
THE BULBUL AND THE COTTON-TREE.
There was once a bulbul, and one day as he was flying about, he saw a
tree on which was a little fruit. The bulbul was much pleased and
said, "I will sit here till this fruit is ripe, and then I will eat
it." So he deserted his nest and his wife, and sat there for twelve
years without eating anything, and every day he said, "To-morrow I
will eat this fruit." During these twelve years a great many birds
tried to sit on the tree, and wished to build their nests in it, but
whenever they came the bulbul sent them away, saying, "This fruit is
not good. Don't come here." One day a cuckoo came and said, "Why do
you send us away? Why should we not come and sit here too? All the
trees here are not yours." "Never mind," said the bulbul, "I am going
to sit here, and when this fruit is ripe, I shall eat it." Now the
cuckoo knew that this tree was the cotton-tree, but the bulbul did
not. First comes the bud, which the bulbul thought a fruit, then the
flower, and the flower becomes a big pod, and the pod bursts and all
the cotton flies away. The bulbul was delighted when he saw the
beautiful red flower, which he still thought a fruit, and said, "When
it is ripe, it will be a delicious fruit." The flower became a pod,
and the pod burst. "What is all this that is flying about?" said the
bulbul. "The fruit must be ripe now." So he looked into the pod, and
it was empty; all the cotton had fallen out. Then the cuckoo came and
said to the angry bulbul, "You see if you had allowed us to come and
sit on the tree, you would have had something good to eat; but as you
were selfish, and would not let any one share with you, God is angry
and has punished you by giving you a hollow fruit." Then the cuckoo
called all the other birds, and they came and mocked the bulbul. "Ah!
you see God has punished you for your selfishness," they said. The
bulbul got very angry and all the birds went away. After they had
gone, the bulbul said to the tree, "You are a bad tree. You are of use
to no one. You give food to no one." The tree said, "You are mistaken.
God made me what I am. My flower is given to sheep to eat. My cotton
makes pillows and mattresses for man."
Since that day no bulbul goes near a cotton-tree.
Told by Dunkní.
[Decoration]
[Decoration]
X.
THE MONKEY PRINCE.
Once upon a time there was a Rájá called Jabhú Rájá, and he had a
great many wives; at least he had seven wives, but he had no children.
Although he had married seven wives, not one of them had given him a
child. At this he was greatly vexed and said, "I have married seven
wives, and not one of them has given me a child." And he got very
angry with God: he said, "Why does not God give me any children? I
will go into the jungle and die by myself." The Ránís coaxed him to
stay, but he wouldn't; he would go out into the jungle.
So he went out into the jungle very far, and God sent him an old fakír
leaning on a stick. The Rájá met him, and the fakír said, "Why do you
come into the jungle? If you go far into the jungle you will meet
plenty of tigers, and they will eat you. Tell me what you want.
Whatever you want I will give you." "No, I won't tell you," said the
Rájá. But at last the Rájá told him, "I have seven wives, and none of
them has given me any children, and so here I will die by myself."
Then the fakír said, "Take this stick, and a little way off you will
find a mango-tree with some mangoes on it. Throw the stick at the
mangoes with one hand, and catch them as they fall with the other, and
when you have caught them all, take them home and give one to each of
your seven wives." So the Rájá went and knocked the mangoes off the
tree and caught them as the fakír had told him. Then he looked about
for the fakír, but he could not find him, for he had gone away into
another part of the jungle. So he went home and gave the seven mangoes
to his wives. But the fruit was so good that six of the wives ate it
up, and would not give the youngest wife any. She cried very much, and
went into the compound and picked up one of the mango stones which one
of the six wives had thrown away, and ate it. By and by each of the
six wives had a son; but the one who had eaten the stone had a monkey,
who was called in consequence Bandarsábásá, or Prince Monkey. He was
really a boy, but no one knew it, for he had a monkey-skin covering
him. His six brothers hated him. They went to school every day; and
the monkey went under the ground, and was taught by the fairies. His
mother did not know this; she thought, as he was a monkey, he went to
the jungle and swung in the trees. He was the best and the cleverest
of all the boys.
Now, in a kingdom a three months' journey off by land from Jabhú
Rájá's country, there lived a king called King Jamársá. He had a very
beautiful daughter whose name was Princess Jahúran, and as her father
wanted a very strong son-in-law, he had a large heavy iron ball made,
and he sent letters to all the Rájás and Rájás' sons far and near to
say that whoever wished to marry his daughter, the Princess Jahúran,
must be able to throw this heavy ball at her and hit her. So many
Rájás went to try, but none of them could even lift the ball. Now, one
of these letters had come to Jabhú Rájá, and his six elder sons
determined they would go to King Jamársá's country, for each of them
was sure he could throw the ball, and win the princess.
Prince Monkey laughed softly and said to himself, "I will go and try
too. I know I shall succeed."
Off, therefore, the six brothers set on their long journey, and the
monkey followed them; but before he did so, he went into the jungle
and took off his monkey-skin, and God sent him a beautiful horse and
beautiful clothes. Then he followed his brothers and overtook them,
and gave them betel-leaf and lovely flowers. "What a beautiful boy!"
they said. "Who is it owns such a beautiful boy? He must be some
Rájá's son." Then he galloped quickly away, took off his grand clothes
and put them on his horse, and the horse rose into the air. He put on
his monkey-skin and followed his brothers.
When they reached King Jamársá's palace they pitched their tents in
his compound, which was very big. Every evening the princess used to
stand in her verandah and let down her long golden hair so that it
fell all round her, and then the Rájás who wished to marry her had to
try to hit her with the great heavy ball that lay on the ground just
in front of where she stood.
King Jamársá's house had more than one storey, and you had to go
upstairs to get to the Princess Jahúran's rooms which led into the
verandah in which she used to stand.
Well, Prince Monkey's six elder brothers all got ready to go up to the
palace and throw the ball. They were quite sure they would throw it
without any trouble. Before they went they told their monkey brother
to take care of their tents, and to have a good dinner ready for them
when they returned. "If the dinner is not ready, we will beat you."
As soon as they were gone, Prince Monkey took some gold mohurs he had,
and he went to a traveller's resting-house, which was a little way
outside King Jamársá's compound, and gave them to the man who owned
it, and bade him give him a grand dinner for his six brothers. Then he
took the dinner to the tents, went into the jungle, and took off his
monkey-skin. And God sent him a grand horse from heaven, and splendid
clothes. These he put on, mounted his horse, and rode to King
Jamársá's compound. There he took no notice of either the king, or
his daughter, or of the ball, or of the Rájás who were there to try
and lift it. He spoke only to his brothers, and gave them lovely
flowers and betel-leaf. Meanwhile, everybody was looking at him and
talking about him. "Who can he be? Did you ever see any one so lovely?
Where does he come from? Just look at his clothes! In our countries we
cannot get any like them!" As for the Princess Jahúran she thought to
herself, "That Rájá shall be my husband, whether he lifts the ball or
not." When he had given his brothers the flowers and betel-leaf,
Prince Monkey rode straight to the jungle, took off his clothes, laid
them on his horse (which instantly went up to heaven), put on his
monkey-skin, went back to the tents, and lay down to sleep.
When his brothers came home they were talking eagerly about the
unknown beautiful Rájá. All the time they were eating their dinner
they could speak of nothing else.
Well, every evening for about ten evenings it was just the same story.
Only every evening Prince Monkey appeared in a different dress. The
princess always thought, "That is the man I will marry, whether he can
throw the ball or not." Then about the eleventh evening, after he had
given his brothers the flowers and betel-leaf, he said to all the
Rájás who were standing there, and to King Jamársá and to all the
servants, "Now every one of you go and stand far away, for I am going
to throw the ball." "No, no!" they all cried, "we will stand here and
see you." "You must go far away. You can look on at a distance," said
the Monkey Prince; "the ball might fall back among you and hurt you."
So they all went off and stood round him at a distance.
"Now," said Prince Monkey to himself, "I won't hit the princess this
time; but I will hit the verandah railing." Then he took up the ball
with one hand, just as if it were quite light, and threw it on the
verandah railing, and then he rode off fast to the jungle.
The next evening it was the same thing over again, only this time he
threw the ball into the Princess Jahúran's clothes.