had changed into a most lovely pink lotus-flower. This flower was
first seen by a man from the village who came to the well for water.
"What a lovely lotus-flower!" said the man; "I must gather it." But
when he tried to reach it the flower floated away from him. Then he
went and told all the people in the village of the beautiful flower,
and then the palace servants heard of it. They all tried to gather it,
but could not, for the flower always went just out of their reach.
Then the King and his six elder sons heard of it, and they came to the
well; but the King tried in vain to gather it, and his six sons too.
The lotus-flower always floated away from them.
Last of all, the youngest prince heard of the lotus, and he grew very
curious to see it, and said, "I will try if I cannot gather this
wonderful flower that no one can touch." So he, too, came to the well,
and stooped, and stretched out his hand, and the minute he did so the
flower floated of itself into his hand.
Then he was very happy and proud, and he took the flower up to his
wife and showed it to her. "Just see," he said, "every one in the
village and the palace were talking of this lotus-flower; and every
one tried to gather it; and no one could, for the flower would not let
any one touch it. My father tried, and my brothers all tried, and
they, too, could not gather it; but as soon as I stretched out my hand
the flower floated into it of itself."
When his wicked wife saw the flower, she said nothing; but her heart
told her it was the beautiful girl she had pushed into the well. The
prince laid the flower on his pillow, and was very glad and happy. As
soon as he had gone out, his wife seized the lotus-flower, tore it to
bits, and threw them far away into the garden.
In a few days a bél-tree was growing on the spot where she had thrown
the pieces of the lotus-flower. On it grew one big bél-fruit, and it
was so fine and large that every one in the village and the palace
tried to gather it; but no one could touch it, for the fruit always
went just out of reach. The King and his six elder sons also tried,
but they could not touch it. The youngest prince heard of this fruit,
so he said to his wife, "I will go and see if I can gather this
bél-fruit that no one can even touch." The wicked woman's heart said
to her, "In the bél-fruit is the Bél-Princess;" but she said nothing.
The prince went to the bél-tree; the bél-fruit came into his hand, and
he broke it off the tree, and brought it home to his wife. "See," he
said, "here is the bél-fruit; it let me gather it at once." And he was
very proud and happy. Then he laid the fruit on a table in his room.
When he had gone out the wicked wife came, and took the fruit, and
flung it away in the garden. In the night the fruit burst in two, and
in it lay a lovely, tiny girl baby. The gardener, as he went round the
garden early in the morning, found the little baby; and he wondered
who had thrown away the beautiful fruit, and who the lovely baby girl
could be. She was so tiny and so pretty, and the gardener was
delighted when he saw her, for he had no children, and thought God had
sent him a little child at last.
He took her in his arms and carried her to his wife.
"See," he said, "we have never had any children, and now God has sent
us this beautiful little girl." His wife looked at the child, and she
was as delighted with her as her husband was. "Yes," she said, "God
has sent us this child, and she is certainly most beautiful. I am very
happy. But I have no milk for her; if only I had milk for her, I could
nurse her and she would live." And the gardener's wife was very sad to
think she had no milk in her breasts for the little child.
Then her husband said, "Let us ask God to send you milk for her." So
they prayed to God and worshipped him. And God was pleased with them
both, and sent the gardener's wife a great deal of milk.
The little girl now lived in the gardener's house, and he and his wife
took the greatest care of her, and were very happy to think they had
now a child. She grew very fast, and became lovelier every day. She
was more beautiful than any girl that had ever been seen, and all the
people in the King's country used to say, "How lovely the gardener's
daughter is! She is more beautiful than any princess."
The King's youngest son's wicked wife heard of the child, and her
heart told her, "She is the Bél-Princess." She said nothing, but she
often thought of how she could contrive to have her killed.
One day, when the gardener's daughter was seven years old, she was out
in her father's garden, making a little garden of her own near the
house-door. While she was busy over her flowers, the wicked woman's
cow strayed into the garden and began eating the plants in it. The
little girl would not let it make its dinner off her father's flowers
and grass, but pushed it out of the garden.
The wicked woman was told how the gardener's daughter had treated her
cow; so she cried all day long, and pretended to be ill. When her
husband asked her what was the matter, she answered, "I am sick
because the gardener's daughter has ill-treated my cow. She beat it,
and turned it out of her father's garden, and said many wicked things.
If you will have the girl killed, I shall live; but if you do not kill
her, I shall die." The prince at once ordered his servants to take the
gardener's daughter the next morning to the jungle, and there kill
her.
So the next morning early the servants went to the gardener's house to
take away his daughter. He and his wife cried bitterly, and begged the
servants to leave the girl with them. They offered them a great many
rupees, saying, "Take these rupees, and leave us our daughter." "How
can we leave you your daughter," said the servants, "when the King's
youngest son has ordered us to take her to the jungle and kill her,
that his wife may get well?"
So they led the girl away; and as they went to the jungle, they said
to each other, "How beautiful this girl is!" They found her so
beautiful that they grew very sorrowful at the thought of killing her.
They took the girl to a great plain, which was about ten miles distant
from the King's country; but when they got there they said they could
not kill her. She was so beautiful that they really could not kill
her. She said to them, "You were ordered to kill me, so kill me."
"No," they answered, "we cannot kill you, we cannot kill you."
Then the girl took the knife in her own hand and cut out her two eyes;
and one eye became a parrot, and the other a _mainá_. Then she cut out
her heart and it became a great tank. Her body became a splendid
palace and garden--a far grander palace than was the King's palace;
her arms and legs became the pillars that supported the verandah roof;
and her head the dome on the top of the palace.
The prince's servants looked on all the time these changes were taking
place, and they were so frightened by them, that when they got home
they would not tell the prince or any one else what they had seen. No
one lived in this wonderful house. It stood empty in its garden by its
tank, and the parrot and _mainá_ lived in the garden trees.
Some time afterwards the youngest prince went out hunting, and towards
evening he found himself on the great plain where stood the wonderful
palace. He rode up to it and said to himself, "I never saw any house
here before. I wonder who lives here?" He went through the great gate
into the garden, and then he saw the large tank, and how beautiful the
garden was. He went all through the garden and was delighted with it,
and he saw that it was beautifully kept, and was in perfect order.
Then he went into the palace, and went through all the rooms, and
wondered more and more to whom this beautiful house could belong. He
was very much surprised, too, at finding no one in the palace, though
the rooms were all splendidly furnished, and very clean and neat.
"My father is a great king," he said to himself, "and yet he has not
got a palace like this." It was now deep night, so the prince knew he
could not go home till the next day. "Never mind," he said, "I will
sleep in the verandah. I am not afraid, though I shall be quite
alone."
So he lay down to sleep in the verandah, and while he lay there, the
parrot and _mainá_ flew in, and they perched near him, for they knew
he was there, and they wanted him to hear what they said to each
other. Then they began chattering together; and the parrot told the
_mainá_ how the prince's father was king of the neighbouring country,
and how he had seven sons, and how six of the sons had married six
princesses, "but this prince, who was the youngest son, would not
marry; and what is more, he did not like his brother's wives at all."
Then the birds stopped talking and did not chatter any more that
night. The prince was very much surprised at the birds knowing who he
was, and all about his dislike to his brothers' wives.
The next morning he rode home; and there he stayed all day, and would
not talk. His wife asked him, "What is the matter with you? Why are
you so silent?" "My head aches," he answered: "I am ill." But towards
evening he felt he must go back to the empty palace on the great
plain, so he said to his wife, "I am going out to eat the air for a
little while." Then he got on his horse and rode off to the palace.
As soon as he had laid himself down in the verandah, the parrot and
the _mainá_ perched near him; and the parrot told the _mainá_ how the
prince had heard of the Bél-Princess; and all about his long journey
in search of her, and how he found the bél-fruit, and how he was
turned to stone. Then he stopped chattering, and the birds said
nothing more to each other that night.
In the morning the King's son rode home, and was as silent and grave
as he had been before. He told his wife his head ached when she asked
him whether he was ill.
That night he again slept in the verandah of the strange palace, and
heard a little more of his story from the birds.
The next day he was still silent and grave, and his wife was very
uneasy. "I am sure the Bél-Princess is alive," she said to herself,
"and that he goes every night to see her." Then she asked him, "Why do
you go out every evening? Why do you not stay at home?" "I am not
well," he answered, "so I go to my mother's house" (the prince had a
little house of his own in his father's compound). "I will not sleep
at home again till I am well."
That night he lay down to sleep again in the verandah of the great
empty palace, and heard the parrot tell the _mainá_ all that happened
to the prince up to the time that he fell asleep in his father's
garden with the beautiful Bél-Princess sitting beside him.
On the fifth night the prince lay down to sleep again in the verandah
of the palace on the great plain, and watched eagerly for the little
birds to begin their talk. This night the parrot told how the wicked
woman had come and taken the Bél-Princess's clothes, and thrown her
down the well; how the princess became a lotus-flower which the wicked
wife broke to bits; how the bits of the lotus-flower turned into a
bél-fruit which she threw away; how out of the fruit came a tiny
girl-baby that the gardener adopted; how the wicked woman persuaded
the prince to have this girl killed when she was seven years old; how
he and the _mainá_ had once been this girl's eyes; how the tank was
once her heart, and how her body had changed into this palace and
garden, while her head became the dome on the top of the palace.
Then the _mainá_ asked the parrot where the Bél-Princess was. "Cannot
she be found?" said the _mainá_. "Yes," said the parrot, "she can be
found; but the King's youngest son alone can find her, and he is so
foolish! He believes that his ugly, wicked wife is the beautiful
Bél-Princess!" "And where is the princess?" asked the _mainá_. "She is
here," said the parrot. "If the prince would come one day and go
through all the rooms of this palace till he came to the centre room,
he would see a trap-door in the middle of that room. If he lifted the
trap-door he would see a staircase which leads to an underground
palace, and in this palace is the Bél-princess." "And can no one but
the prince lift the trap-door?" asked the _mainá_. "No one," answered
the parrot. "It is God's order that only the King's youngest son can
lift the trap-door and find the Bél-Princess."
The next day the young prince went through all the rooms of the
palace, instead of going home. When he came to the centre room, he
looked for the trap-door, and when he had lifted it he saw the
staircase. He went down it, and found himself in the under-ground
palace, which was far more beautiful than the one above-ground. It was
full of servants; and in one room a grand dinner was standing ready.
In another room he saw a gold bed, all covered with pearls and
diamonds, and on the bed lay the Bél-Princess.
Day and night she prayed to God and read a holy book. She did nothing
else.
When the prince went into her room and she saw him, she was very sad,
not happy, for she thought, "He is so foolish; he knows nothing of
what has happened to me." Then she said to him, "Why did you come
here? Go home again to your father's palace."
The prince burst out crying. "See, princess," he said, "I knew nothing
of your palace. I only found it by chance five nights ago. I have
slept here in the verandah for the last five nights, and only last
night did I learn what had happened to you, and how to find you." "I
know it is true," she said, "that you knew nothing of what happened to
me. But now that you have found me, what will you do?"
"I will go home to my father's palace," he answered, "and make
everything ready for you, and then I will come and marry you and take
you home."
So it was all settled, and he ate some food, and returned to his
father. He told his father and mother all that had happened to the
Bél-Princess, and how her body had turned into the beautiful garden
and palace that stood on the big plain; and of the little birds; and
of the underground palace in which she now lived. So his father said
that he and the prince's mother, and his six brothers and their wives,
would all take him in great state to the palace and marry him to the
beautiful Bél-Princess; and that then they would all return to their
own palace, and all live together. "But first the wicked woman must be
killed," said the King.
So he ordered his servants to take her to the jungle and kill her, and
throw her body away. So they took her away at four o'clock in the
afternoon and killed her.
One morning two or three days later, the prince and his father and
mother, and brothers and sisters-in-law, went to the great palace on
the wide plain; and there, in the evening, the king's youngest son was
married to the Bél-Princess. And when his father and mother and
brothers, and his brothers' wives, saw her, they all said, "It is
quite true. She is indeed a Bél-Princess!"
After the wedding they all returned to the King's palace, and there
they lived together. But the King and his sons used often to go to the
palace on the great plain to eat the air; and they used to lend it
sometimes to other rájás and kings.
Told by Múniyá.
[Decoration]
XXII.
HOW THE RÁJÁ'S SON WON THE PRINCESS LABÁM.
In a country there was a Rájá who had an only son who every day went
out to hunt. One day the Rání, his mother, said to him, "You can hunt
wherever you like on these three sides; but you must never go to the
fourth side." This she said because she knew if he went on the fourth
side he would hear of the beautiful Princess Labám, and that then he
would leave his father and mother and seek for the princess.
The young prince listened to his mother, and obeyed her for some time;
but one day, when he was hunting on the three sides where he was
allowed to go, he remembered what she had said to him about the fourth
side, and he determined to go and see why she had forbidden him to
hunt on that side. When he got there, he found himself in a jungle,
and nothing in the jungle but a quantity of parrots, who lived in it.
The young Rájá shot at some of them, and at once they all flew away up
to the sky. All, that is, but one, and this was their Rájá, who was
called Híráman parrot.
When Híráman parrot found himself left alone, he called out to the
other parrots, "Don't fly away and leave me alone when the Rájá's son
shoots. If you desert me like this, I will tell the Princess Labám."
Then the parrots all flew back to their Rájá, chattering. The prince
was greatly surprised, and said, "Why, these birds can talk!" Then he
said to the parrots, "Who is the Princess Labám? Where does she live?"
But the parrots would not tell him where she lived. "You can never
get to the Princess Labám's country." That is all they would say.
The prince grew very sad when they would not tell him anything more;
and he threw his gun away, and went home. When he got home, he would
not speak or eat, but lay on his bed for four or five days, and seemed
very ill.
At last he told his father and mother that he wanted to go and see the
Princess Labám. "I must go," he said; "I must see what she is like.
Tell me where her country is." "We do not know where it is," answered
his father and mother. "Then I must go and look for it," said the
prince. "No, no," they said, "you must not leave us. You are our only
son. Stay with us. You will never find the Princess Labám." "I must
try and find her," said the prince. "Perhaps God will show me the way.
If I live and I find her, I will come back to you; but perhaps I shall
die, and then I shall never see you again. Still I must go."
So they had to let him go, though they cried very much at parting with
him. His father gave him fine clothes to wear, and a fine horse. And
he took his gun, and his bow and arrows, and a great many other
weapons, "for," he said, "I may want them." His father, too, gave him
plenty of rupees.
Then he himself got his horse all ready for the journey, and he said
good-bye to his father and mother; and his mother took her
handkerchief and wrapped some sweetmeats in it, and gave it to her
son. "My child," she said to him, "when you are hungry eat some of
these sweetmeats."
He then set out on his journey, and rode on and on till he came to a
jungle in which were a tank and shady trees. He bathed himself and his
horse in the tank, and then sat down under a tree. "Now," he said to
himself, "I will eat some of the sweetmeats my mother gave me, and I
will drink some water, and then I will continue my journey." He
opened his handkerchief, and took out a sweetmeat. He found an ant in
it. He took out another. There was an ant in that one too. So he laid
the two sweetmeats on the ground, and he took out another, and
another, and another, until he had taken them all out; but in each he
found an ant. "Never mind," he said, "I won't eat the sweetmeats; the
ants shall eat them." Then the Ant-Rájá came and stood before him and
said, "You have been good to us. If ever you are in trouble, think of
me and we will come to you."
The Rájá's son thanked him, mounted his horse and continued his
journey. He rode on and on till he came to another jungle, and there
he saw a tiger who had a thorn in his foot, and was roaring loudly
from the pain.
"Why do you roar like that?" said the young Rájá. "What is the matter
with you?" "I have had a thorn in my foot for twelve years," answered
the tiger, "and it hurts me so; that is why I roar." "Well," said the
Rájá's son, "I will take it out for you. But, perhaps, as you are a
tiger, when I have made you well, you will eat me?" "Oh, no," said the
tiger, "I won't eat you. Do make me well."
Then the prince took a little knife from his pocket, and cut the thorn
out of the tiger's foot; but when he cut, the tiger roared louder than
ever, so loud that his wife heard him in the next jungle, and came
bounding along to see what was the matter. The tiger saw her coming,
and hid the prince in the jungle, so that she should not see him.
"What man hurt you that you roared so loud?" said the wife. "No one
hurt me," answered her husband; "but a Rájá's son came and took the
thorn out of my foot." "Where is he? Show him to me," said his wife.
"If you promise not to kill him, I will call him," said the tiger. "I
won't kill him; only let me see him," answered his wife.
Then the tiger called the Rájá's son, and when he came the tiger and
his wife made him a great many salaams. Then they gave him a good
dinner, and he stayed with them for three days. Every day he looked at
the tiger's foot, and the third day it was quite healed. Then he said
good-bye to the tigers, and the tiger said to him, "If ever you are in
trouble, think of me, and we will come to you."
The Rájá's son rode on and on till he came to a third jungle. Here he
found four fakírs whose teacher and master had died, and had left four
things,--a bed, which carried whoever sat on it whithersoever he
wished to go; a bag, that gave its owner whatever he wanted, jewels,
food, or clothes; a stone bowl that gave its owner as much water as he
wanted, no matter how far he might be from a tank; and a stick and
rope, to which its owner had only to say, if any one came to make war
on him, "Stick, beat as many men and soldiers as are here," and the
stick would beat them and the rope would tie them up.
The four fakírs were quarrelling over these four things. One said, "I
want this;" another said, "You cannot have it, for I want it;" and so
on.
The Rájá's son said to them, "Do not quarrel for these things. I will
shoot four arrows in four different directions. Whichever of you gets
to my first arrow, shall have the first thing--the bed. Whosoever gets
to the second arrow, shall have the second thing--the bag. He who gets
to the third arrow, shall have the third thing--the bowl. And he who
gets to the fourth arrow, shall have the last things--the stick and
rope." To this they agreed, and the prince shot off his first arrow.
Away raced the fakírs to get it. When they brought it back to him he
shot off the second, and when they had found and brought it to him he
shot off his third, and when they had brought him the third he shot
off the fourth.
While they were away looking for the fourth arrow, the Rájá's son let
his horse loose in the jungle, and sat on the bed, taking the bowl,
the stick and rope, and the bag with him. Then he said, "Bed, I wish
to go to the Princess Labám's country." The little bed instantly rose
up into the air and began to fly, and it flew and flew till it came to
the Princess Labám's country, where it settled on the ground. The
Rájá's son asked some men he saw, "Whose country is this?" "The
Princess Labám's country," they answered. Then the prince went on till
he came to a house where he saw an old woman. "Who are you?" she said.
"Where do you come from?" "I come from a far country," he said; "do
let me stay with you to-night." "No," she answered, "I cannot let you
stay with me; for our king has ordered that men from other countries
may not stay in his country. You cannot stay in my house." "You are my
aunty," said the prince; "let me remain with you for this one night.
You see it is evening, and if I go into the jungle, then the wild
beasts will eat me." "Well," said the old woman, "you may stay here
to-night; but to-morrow morning you must go away, for if the king
hears you have passed the night in my house, he will have me seized
and put into prison."
Then she took him into her house, and the Rájá's son was very glad.
The old woman began preparing dinner, but he stopped her. "Aunty," he
said, "I will give you food." He put his hand into his bag, saying,
"Bag, I want some dinner," and the bag gave him instantly a delicious
dinner, served upon two gold plates. The old woman and the Rájá's son
then dined together.
When they had finished eating, the old woman said, "Now I will fetch
some water." "Don't go," said the prince. "You shall have plenty of
water directly." So he took his bowl and said to it, "Bowl, I want
some water," and then it filled with water. When it was full, the
prince cried out, "Stop, bowl," and the bowl stopped filling. "See,
aunty," he said, "with this bowl I can always get as much water as I
want."
By this time night had come. "Aunty," said the Rájá's son, "why don't
you light a lamp?" "There is no need," she said. "Our king has
forbidden the people in his country to light any lamps; for, as soon
as it is dark, his daughter, the Princess Labám, comes and sits on her
roof, and she shines so, that she lights up all the country and our
houses, and we can see to do our work as if it were day."
When it was quite black night, the princess got up. She dressed
herself in her rich clothes and jewels, and rolled up her hair, and
across her head she put a band of diamonds and pearls. Then she shone
like the moon, and her beauty made night day. She came out of her
room, and sat on the roof of her palace. In the daytime she never came
out of her house; she only came out at night. All the people in her
father's country then went about their work and finished it.
The Rájá's son watched the princess quietly, and was very happy. He
said to himself, "How lovely she is!"