very sad; and after some time she thought, "Now I will go home:
perhaps these angels are gone to take his life;" and then she cried
bitterly and remained under the tree.
Meanwhile the four angels had gone back to God, who asked them, "Have
you brought the merchant?" They were sorry not to have brought him,
and told God all that had happened. And God was very angry; but he
said to them. "Never mind. I know the fakír Nánaksá is with the
merchant and his wife just now, and it is he who has played you this
trick."
Then God wrote a letter in which he promised the merchant twenty years
more life, only at the end of the twenty years he was really to die
and not to be allowed to live any longer. This letter he gave to the
angels, and bade them take it to the merchant's wife and tell her to
have a silver box made, into which she was to put the letter, and
then hang it round her husband's neck, so that he should live for
twenty years more.
The four angels came down to earth again, and went to the tree under
which they had left the woman. They found her waiting for them, and
gave her the letter saying, "You must get a silver box made and put
this letter in it; then hang it round your husband's neck, so that he
may live for twenty years more."
The woman thanked them, and was very happy. She took the letter and
went home. There she found her husband quite well, and with him was
Nánaksá. She gave Nánaksá the letter and told him what the angels had
bidden her do with it. Nánaksá read the letter, and was very much
pleased. Then he said to her, "Call a silversmith here, and let him
make you the silver box. Then you must get a great dinner ready, and
ask all your friends, rich and poor, to come and eat it."
All this she did, and when the dinner was ready and all their friends
had come, the fakír said, "None who are here, men, women, or children,
must eat, till they have put their hands before their faces and
worshipped God." Everybody hid his face in his hands at once and
worshipped God: while they did this the fakír stole away from them, so
when they uncovered their faces he was nowhere to be seen. No one knew
where he had gone, and no one had seen him go. Some of the men went to
look for him, but they could not find him, and none of them ever saw
him again.
But the merchant and his wife lived happily together.
Told by Múniyá.
[Decoration]
[Decoration]
XX.
THE BOY WHO HAD A MOON ON HIS FOREHEAD AND A STAR ON HIS CHIN.
In a country were seven daughters of poor parents, who used to come
daily to play under the shady trees in the King's garden with the
gardener's daughter; and daily she used to say to them, "When I am
married I shall have a son. Such a beautiful boy as he will be has
never been seen. He will have a moon on his forehead, and a star on
his chin." Then her playfellows used to laugh at her and mock her.
But one day the King heard her telling them about the beautiful boy
she would have when she was married, and he said to himself he should
like very much to have such a son; the more so that though he had
already four wives he had no child. He went, therefore, to the
gardener and told him he wished to marry his daughter. This delighted
the gardener and his wife, who thought it would indeed be grand for
their daughter to become a princess. So they said "Yes" to the King,
and invited all their friends to the wedding. The King invited all
his, and he gave the gardener as much money as he wanted. Then the
wedding was held with great feasting and rejoicing.
A year later the day drew near on which the gardener's daughter was to
have her son; and the King's four other wives came constantly to see
her. One day they said to her, "The King hunts every day; and the time
is soon coming when you will have your child. Suppose you fell ill
whilst he was out hunting and could therefore know nothing of your
illness, what would you do then?"
When the King came home that evening, the gardener's daughter said to
him, "Every day you go out hunting. Should I ever be in trouble or
sick while you are away, how could I send for you?" The King gave her
a kettle-drum which he placed near the door for her, and he said to
her, "Whenever you want me, beat this kettle-drum. No matter how far
away I may be, I shall hear it, and will come at once to you."
Next morning, when the King had gone out to hunt, his four other wives
came to see the gardener's daughter. She told them all about her
kettle-drum. "Oh," they said, "do drum on it just to see if the King
really will come to you." "No, I will not," she said; "for why should
I call him from his hunting when I do not want him?" "Don't mind
interrupting his hunting," they answered. "Do try if he really will
come to you when you beat your kettle-drum." So at last, just to
please them, she beat it, and the King stood before her.
"Why have you called me?" he said. "See, I have left my hunting to
come to you." "I want nothing," she answered; "I only wished to know
if you really would come to me when I beat my drum." "Very well,"
answered the King; "but do not call me again unless you really need
me." Then he returned to his hunting.
The next day, when the King had gone out hunting as usual, the four
wives again came to see the gardener's daughter. They begged and
begged her to beat her drum once more, "just to see if the King will
really come to see you this time." At first she refused, but at last
she consented. So she beat her drum, and the King came to her. But
when he found she was neither ill nor in trouble, he was angry, and
said to her, "Twice I have left my hunting and lost my game to come
to you when you did not need me. Now you may call me as much as you
like, but I will not come to you," and then he went away in a rage.
The third day the gardener's daughter fell ill, and she beat and beat
her kettle-drum; but the King never came. He heard her kettle-drum,
but he thought, "She does not really want me; she is only trying to
see if I will go to her."
Meanwhile the four other wives came to her, and they said, "Here it is
the custom before a child is born to bind its mother's eyes with a
handkerchief that she may not see it just at first. So let us bind
your eyes." She answered, "Very well, bind my eyes." The four wives
then tied a handkerchief over them.
Soon after, the gardener's daughter had a beautiful little son, with a
moon on his forehead and a star on his chin; and before the poor
mother had seen him, the four wicked wives took the boy to the nurse
and said to her, "Now you must not let this child make the least sound
for fear his mother should hear him; and in the night you must either
kill him, or else take him away, so that his mother may never see him.
If you obey our orders, we will give you a great many rupees." All
this they did out of spite. The nurse took the little child and put
him into a box, and the four wives went back to the gardener's
daughter.
First they put a stone into her boy's little bed, and then they took
the handkerchief off her eyes and showed it her, saying, "Look! this
is your son!" The poor girl cried bitterly, and thought, "What will
the King say when he finds no child?" But she could do nothing.
When the King came home, he was furious at hearing his youngest wife,
the gardener's daughter, had given him a stone instead of the
beautiful little son she had promised him. He made her one of the
palace servants, and never spoke to her.
In the middle of the night the nurse took the box in which was the
beautiful little prince, and went out to a broad plain in the jungle.
There she dug a hole, made the fastenings of the box sure, and put the
box into the hole, although the child in it was still alive. The
King's dog, whose name was Shankar, had followed her to see what she
did with the box. As soon as she had gone back to the four wives (who
gave her a great many rupees), the dog went to the hole in which she
had put the box, took the box out, and opened it. When he saw the
beautiful little boy, he was very much delighted and said, "If it
pleases God that this child should live, I will not hurt him; I will
not eat him, but I will swallow him whole and hide him in my stomach."
This he did.
After six months had passed, the dog went by night to the jungle, and
thought, "I wonder whether the boy is alive or dead." Then he brought
the child out of his stomach and rejoiced over his beauty. The boy was
now six months old. When Shankar had caressed and loved him, he
swallowed him again for another six months. At the end of that time he
went once more by night to the broad jungle-plain. There he brought up
the child out of his stomach (the child was now a year old), and
caressed and petted him a great deal, and was made very happy by his
great beauty.
But this time the dog's keeper had followed and watched the dog; and
he saw all that Shankar did, and the beautiful little child, so he ran
to the four wives and said to them, "Inside the King's dog there is a
child! the loveliest child! He has a moon on his forehead and a star
on his chin. Such a child has never been seen!" At this the four wives
were very much frightened, and as soon as the King came home from
hunting they said to him, "While you were away your dog came to our
rooms, and tore our clothes and knocked about all our things. We are
afraid he will kill us." "Do not be afraid," said the King. "Eat your
dinner and be happy. I will have the dog shot to-morrow morning."
Then he ordered his servants to shoot the dog at dawn, but the dog
heard him, and said to himself, "What shall I do? The King intends to
kill me. I don't care about that, but what will become of the child if
I am killed? He will die. But I will see if I cannot save him."
So when it was night, the dog ran to the King's cow, who was called
Surí, and said to her, "Surí, I want to give you something, for the
King has ordered me to be shot to-morrow. Will you take great care of
whatever I give you?" "Let me see what it is," said Surí; "I will take
care of it if I can." Then they both went together to the wide plain,
and there the dog brought up the boy. Surí was enchanted with him. "I
never saw such a beautiful child in this country," she said. "See, he
has a moon on his forehead and a star on his chin. I will take the
greatest care of him." So saying she swallowed the little prince. The
dog made her a great many salaams, and said, "To-morrow I shall die;"
and the cow then went back to her stable.
Next morning at dawn the dog was taken to the jungle and shot.
The child now lived in Surí's stomach; and when one whole year had
passed, and he was two years old, the cow went out to the plain, and
said to herself, "I do not know whether the child is alive or dead.
But I have never hurt it, so I will see." Then she brought up the boy;
and he played about, and Surí was delighted; she loved him and
caressed him, and talked to him. Then she swallowed him, and returned
to her stable.
At the end of another year she went again to the plain and brought up
the child. He played and ran about for an hour to her great delight,
and she talked to him and caressed him. His great beauty made her very
happy. Then she swallowed him once more and returned to her stable.
The child was now three years old.
But this time the cowherd had followed Surí, and had seen the
wonderful child and all she did to it. So he ran and told the four
wives, "The King's cow has a beautiful boy inside her. He has a moon
on his forehead and a star on his chin. Such a child has never been
seen before!"
At this the wives were terrified. They tore their clothes and their
hair and cried. When the King came home at evening, he asked them why
they were so agitated. "Oh," they said, "your cow came and tried to
kill us; but we ran away. She tore our hair and our clothes." "Never
mind," said the King. "Eat your dinner and be happy. The cow shall be
killed to-morrow morning."
Now Surí heard the King give this order to the servants, so she said
to herself, "What shall I do to save the child?" When it was midnight,
she went to the King's horse called Katar, who was very wicked, and
quite untameable. No one had ever been able to ride him; indeed no one
could go near him with safety, he was so savage. Surí said to this
horse, "Katar, will you take care of something that I want to give
you, because the King has ordered me to be killed to-morrow?" "Good,"
said Katar; "show me what it is." Then Surí brought up the child, and
the horse was delighted with him. "Yes," he said, "I will take the
greatest care of him. Till now no one has been able to ride me, but
this child shall ride me." Then he swallowed the boy, and when he had
done so, the cow made him many salaams, saying, "It is for this boy's
sake that I am to die." The next morning she was taken to the jungle
and there killed.
The beautiful boy now lived in the horse's stomach, and he stayed in
it for one whole year. At the end of that time the horse thought, "I
will see if this child is alive or dead." So he brought him up; and
then he loved him, and petted him, and the little prince played all
about the stable, out of which the horse was never allowed to go.
Katar was very glad to see the child, who was now four years old.
After he had played for some time, the horse swallowed him again. At
the end of another year, when the boy was five years old, Katar
brought him up again, caressed him, loved him, and let him play about
the stable as he had done a year before. Then the horse swallowed him
again.
But this time the groom had seen all that happened, and when it was
morning, and the King had gone away to his hunting, he went to the
four wicked wives, and told them all he had seen, and all about the
wonderful, beautiful child that lived inside the King's horse Katar.
On hearing the groom's story the four wives cried, and tore their hair
and clothes, and refused to eat. When the King returned at evening and
asked them why they were so miserable, they said, "Your horse Katar
came and tore our clothes, and upset all our things, and we ran away
for fear he should kill us." "Never mind," said the King. "Only eat
your dinner and be happy. I will have Katar shot to-morrow." Then he
thought that two men unaided could not kill such a wicked horse, so he
ordered his servants to bid his troop of sepoys shoot him.
So the next day the King placed his sepoys all round the stable, and
he took up his stand with them; and he said he would himself shoot any
one who let his horse escape.
Meanwhile the horse had overheard all these orders. So he brought up
the child and said to him, "Go into that little room that leads out of
the stable, and you will find in it a saddle and bridle which you must
put on me. Then you will find in the room some beautiful clothes such
as princes wear; these you must put on yourself; and you must take the
sword and gun you will find there too. Then you must mount on my
back." Now Katar was a fairy-horse, and came from the fairies'
country, so he could get anything he wanted; but neither the King nor
any of his people knew this. When all was ready, Katar burst out of
his stable, with the prince on his back, rushed past the King himself
before the King had time to shoot him, galloped away to the great
jungle-plain, and galloped about all over it. The King saw his horse
had a boy on his back, though he could not see the boy distinctly. The
sepoys tried in vain to shoot the horse; he galloped much too fast;
and at last they were all scattered over the plain. Then the King had
to give it up and go home; and his sepoys went to their homes. The
King could not shoot any of his sepoys for letting his horse escape,
for he himself had let him do so.
Then Katar galloped away, on, and on, and on; and when night came they
stayed under a tree, he and the King's son. The horse ate grass, and
the boy wild fruits which he found in the jungle. Next morning they
started afresh, and went far, and far, till they came to a jungle in
another country, which did not belong to the little prince's father,
but to another king. Here Katar said to the boy, "Now get off my
back." Off jumped the prince. "Unsaddle me and take off my bridle;
take off your beautiful clothes and tie them all up in a bundle with
your sword and gun." This the boy did. Then the horse gave him some
poor, common clothes, which he told him to put on. As soon as he was
dressed in them the horse said, "Hide your bundle in this grass, and I
will take care of it for you. I will always stay in this jungle-plain,
so that when you want me you will always find me. You must now go away
and find service with some one in this country." This made the boy
very sad. "I know nothing about anything," he said. "What shall I do
all alone in this country?" "Do not be afraid," answered Katar. "You
will find service, and I will always stay here to help you when you
want me. So go, only before you go, twist my right ear." The boy did
so, and his horse instantly became a donkey. "Now twist your right
ear," said Katar. And when the boy had twisted it, he was no longer a
handsome prince, but a poor, common-looking, ugly man; and his moon
and star were hidden.
Then he went away further into the country, until he came to a grain
merchant of the country, who asked him who he was. "I am a poor man,"
answered the boy, "and I want service." "Good," said the grain
merchant, "you shall be my servant."
Now the grain merchant lived near the King's palace, and one night at
twelve o'clock the boy was very hot; so he went out into the King's
cool garden, and began to sing a lovely song. The seventh and youngest
daughter of the King heard him, and she wondered who it was who could
sing so deliciously. Then she put on her clothes, rolled up her hair,
and came down to where the seemingly poor common man was lying
singing. "Who are you? where do you come from?" she asked. But he
answered nothing. "Who is this man who does not answer when I speak to
him?" thought the little princess, and she went away. On the second
night the same thing happened, and on the third night too. But on the
third night, when she found she could not make him answer her, she
said to him, "What a strange man you are not to answer me when I speak
to you." But still he remained silent, so she went away.
The next day when he had finished his work, the young prince went to
the jungle to see his horse, who asked him, "Are you quite well and
happy?" "Yes, I am," answered the boy. "I am servant to a grain
merchant. The last three nights I have gone into the King's garden and
sung a song. And each night the youngest princess has come to me and
asked me who I am, and whence I came, and I have answered nothing.
What shall I do now?" The horse said, "Next time she asks you who you
are, tell her you are a very poor man, and came from your own country
to find service here."
The boy then went home to the grain merchant, and at night, when
every one had gone to bed, he went to the King's garden and sang his
sweet song again. The youngest princess heard him, got up, dressed,
and came to him. "Who are you? Whence do you come?" she asked. "I am a
very poor man," he answered. "I came from my own country to seek
service here, and I am now one of the grain merchant's servants." Then
she went away. For three more nights the boy sang in the King's
garden, and each night the princess came and asked him the same
questions as before, and the boy gave her the same answers.
Then she went to her father, and said to him, "Father, I wish to be
married; but I must choose my husband myself." Her father consented to
this, and he wrote and invited all the Kings and Rájás in the land,
saying, "My youngest daughter wishes to be married, but she insists on
choosing her husband herself. As I do not know who it is she wishes to
marry, I beg you will all come on a certain day, for her to see you
and make her choice."
A great many Kings, Rájás, and their sons accepted this invitation and
came. When they had all arrived, the little princess's father said to
them, "To-morrow morning you must all sit together in my garden" (the
King's garden was very large), "for then my youngest daughter will
come and see you all, and choose her husband. I do not know whom she
will choose."
The youngest princess ordered a grand elephant to be ready for her the
next morning, and when the morning came, and all was ready, she
dressed herself in the most lovely clothes, and put on her beautiful
jewels; then she mounted her elephant, which was painted blue. In her
hand she took a gold necklace.
Then she went into the garden where the Kings, Rájás, and their sons
were seated. The boy, the grain merchant's servant, was also in the
garden: not as a suitor, but looking on with the other servants.
The princess rode all round the garden, and looked at all the Kings
and Rájás and princes, and then she hung the gold necklace round the
neck of the boy, the grain merchant's servant. At this everybody
laughed, and the Kings were greatly astonished. But then they and the
Rájás said, "What fooling is this?" and they pushed the pretended poor
man away, and took the necklace off his neck, and said to him, "Get
out of the way, you poor, dirty man. Your clothes are far too dirty
for you to come near us!" The boy went far away from them, and stood a
long way off to see what would happen.
Then the King's youngest daughter went all round the garden again,
holding her gold necklace in her hand, and once more she hung it round
the boy's neck. Every one laughed at her and said, "How can the King's
daughter think of marrying this poor, common man!" and the Kings and
the Rájás, who had come as suitors, all wanted to turn him out of the
garden. But the princess said, "Take care! take care! You must not
turn him out. Leave him alone." Then she put him on her elephant, and
took him to the palace.
The Kings and Rájás and their sons were very much astonished, and
said, "What does this mean? The princess does not care to marry one of
us, but chooses that very poor man!" Her father then stood up, and
said to them all, "I promised my daughter she should marry any one she
pleased, and as she has twice chosen that poor, common man, she shall
marry him." And so the princess and the boy were married with great
pomp and splendour: her father and mother were quite content with her
choice; and the Kings, the Rájás and their sons, all returned to their
homes.
Now the princess's six sisters had all married rich princes--and they
laughed at her for choosing such a poor ugly husband as hers seemed
to be, and said to each other, mockingly, "See! our sister has married
this poor, common man!" Their six husbands used to go out hunting
every day, and every evening they brought home quantities of all kinds
of game to their wives, and the game was cooked for their dinner and
for the King's; but the husband of the youngest princess always stayed
at home in the palace, and never went out hunting at all. This made
her very sad, and she said to herself, "My sisters' husbands hunt
every day, but my husband never hunts at all."
At last she said to him, "Why do you never go out hunting as my
sisters' husbands do every day, and every day they bring home
quantities of all kinds of game? Why do you always stay at home,
instead of doing as they do?"
One day he said to her, "I am going out to-day to eat the air." "Very
good," she answered; "go, and take one of the horses." "No," said the
young prince, "I will not ride, I will walk." Then he went to the
jungle-plain where he had left Katar, who all this time had seemed to
be a donkey, and he told Katar everything. "Listen," he said; "I have
married the youngest princess; and when we were married everybody
laughed at her for choosing me, and said, 'What a very poor, common
man our princess has chosen for her husband!' Besides, my wife is very
sad, for her six sisters' husbands all hunt every day, and bring home
quantities of game, and their wives therefore are very proud of them.
But I stay at home all day, and never hunt. To-day I should like to
hunt very much."
"Well," said Katar, "then twist my left ear;" and as soon as the boy
had twisted it, Katar was a horse again, and not a donkey any longer.
"Now," said Katar, "twist your left ear, and you will see what a
beautiful young prince you will become." So the boy twisted his own
left ear, and there he stood no longer a poor, common, ugly man, but
a grand young prince with a moon on his forehead and a star on his
chin. Then he put on his splendid clothes, saddled and bridled Katar,
got on his back with his sword and gun, and rode off to hunt.