Once upon a time “Shāitān,” or the Devil, who, as we dwellers in India
know, has the power to transform himself into man or animal whenever it
pleases him, one day took it into his head that he would go round the
world in the garb and appearance of an ordinary traveller; and so
admirably disguised was he, that one day he visited one of the villages
in the Punjâb, and finding two men seated at one of their places of
meeting, or “Hûzrâhs,” talking and smoking their “hookah,” he approached
them as if to speak.
Believing him to be some traveller wearied by his journey, the two young
men asked him to sit down, and then they offered him a smoke and a drink
of water.
As they were talking and chatting, they heard a great noise in the
village, and suddenly they saw a farmer who was being pursued and beaten
by his wife. The young men recognised the woman, and at once said to the
stranger, “We know the character of that wretched woman; she is worse
than ‘Shāitān’ himself.” Whereupon “Shāitān” said, “No! there I cannot
agree with you, for how can any woman be more hateful than ‘Shāitān,’
who is the accursed one, and wears on his neck the necklace of evil?”
[Illustration: SHĀITĀN AND HIS SAVAGE WIFE.]
The young men said, “Well my friend, if ever you get married, and have a
wife like that woman; you will remember what we have said, and you will
then think her not merely as wicked as ‘Shāitān,’ but a thousand times
worse.”
After taking some refreshment he pondered over these words, and bidding
them “salaam” “Shāitān” went on his way.
It was some little time after this when “Shāitān” did take unto himself
a wife, and as it happened, she turned out to be a most violent woman,
and used to abuse and maltreat him on every occasion, and would even go
so far as to kick and beat him and torture him in a variety of ways.
Their youngest and best child was a son, and she would even chastise
him, and if the father remonstrated or interfered with her, he would
always come in for a large share of her ire and abuse. When “Shāitān”
had pondered over the sad plight he was in, his thoughts reverted to the
saying of the young men in the village, and he said to himself, “Tobâh!
Tobâh! Oh tush! fie! why certainly this wife of mine is worse than the
woman in the village, yes a thousand times worse.”
Now this son began to grow up a bit of a demon in nature, and as time
wore on, it was necessary that he should be given something to do, so
his father one day called him aside and said, “I want you to hear some
advice from me,” but the son replied, “I know you are my father, but I
could never be advised by you, for you are ‘Shāitān,’ and you never did
give good advice to anyone.” “That is true,” said the father, “but
though I know it is my way to give bad advice to all, I could not do so
to my son: come to me at all events, and hear what I have got to say,”
“Say on!” replied the son, “and I will listen.”
“You know,” “Shāitān” said, “how you and I are maltreated by your
mother, so that life is wellnigh unbearable to both of us: now, my
advice to you is that you go on earth as a ‘Hakīm,’ or doctor.”
The son replied, “I know nothing of medicine, and how could I be a
physician?” “That is of no consequence,” said his father; “you do as I
tell you, and all will go right. When, for instance, you are called to
see a patient, as soon as you enter the room, the first thing you do
should be to look at the head of the bed or ‘charpai,’ (literally a
sleeping place with four legs, ‘char’ meaning four and ‘pai” legs, in
Persian). Should you see my shadow there, you should at once say to the
people of the house, ‘Do not I pray you spend any more money on the
patient, for he is sure to die.’ The people will then say, ‘What a
marvellous doctor is this, for he tells us before-hand that he knows the
patient will die, and will not receive any fees!’ By this means your
fame will become great all over the country.
“But if you should not see my shadow at the head of any patient’s bed,
then you should prescribe any simple thing which is known to the common
people round about, and of course you will know from the absence of my
shadow that the patient will get well, and your renown will go on
increasing in this way.”
The son listened to this counsel, and, thinking for a little, he said,
“Very good! I agree,” and it was not long ere he began to practise his
profession amongst men. True enough, in an incredibly short space of
time his fame became noised abroad, and he found himself in an extensive
practice.
One day it happened that the Nawab of the country where he was, had a
near relation very ill, and hearing of the skill of this doctor, he sent
off servants and horses and carriages to bring the doctor in great pomp
to the Palace.
Thither he went without delay, and he was received by the Nawab at the
door of the Palace, and after they had partaken of sherbet and had
smoked a “hookah,” the Nawab showed the way to the room where the sick
relative was.
The Hakīm, or doctor, followed very thoughtfully and anxiously, and he
kept cogitating to himself, “I sincerely hope that my father’s shadow
will not appear to-day over the bed-head of this most important patient,
for it is everything to me that it should not, and that the patient
should recover.” He was taken along passages and corridors, and at last
they reached the room where the sick man lay, and to his horror there
was the shadow and no mistake, and he almost collapsed on the spot.
After sitting a while near the patient, feeling his pulse and asking
questions in the usual way, he requested all persons to quit the room,
in order that he might be alone with the patient for a little while.
All this time he was thinking to himself how he could possibly expel and
get rid of the shadow, this father’s “shadow” which now stood between
him and his fortune; when all of a sudden the thought rushed in upon
him, “I know what I will do!” So raising his voice to its highest pitch
he shrieked out, “Father! Father! Mother is coming!” Whereupon the
“shadow” vanished with one rapid jump, and never again returned.
As the tale runs, the patient got quite well very shortly after this,
and the Hakīm was advanced to high honour and position in the dominions
of the Nawab.
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