There lived, many years ago, in the city of Azimgurh, in the north-west
of India, a Moslem Priest, or “Moola,” who, as is usual with that class,
added to his income by teaching the Mahomedan youths of the place.
By chance an old Washerman, or “Dhobī,” and his wife while travelling
homewards came to the city, and put up under a tree adjoining the Mosque
where the Priest lived, and tied their ass to the tree. The old couple
were rich, but were unfortunately childless.
Some time during the day of their arrival, they caught a glimpse of a
man who was gesticulating before the Priest in a tone of violent
complaint, and they could not help hearing all that he said: “You are
the Priest,” he called out, “and I have paid you all the fees you asked,
but you have taught my son nothing at all, and every day he is either
idling or playing about in the dusty roads with other worthless
urchins.” Upon this the Priest became greatly enraged, and retorted,
“Not taught him anything! It is false; he has been educated like the
rest.”
“Yah Yah ka kulma partraya
Gudhê sê admi bunaya.”
Which means, “I have taught him the creed of Yah Yah, or of the
righteous ones, and though he came to me an Ass I have made him into a
man. You ungrateful wretch! I will have nothing further to say to him,
and you may take him out of the school.” Upon this the man left the
Priest and went away down the road.
The ignorant old Washerman and his equally old and ignorant wife having
been silent listeners of all this conversation, put their heads
together, and began to talk of what they had heard. The Washerman said
to his wife, “Did you not hear the Priest say that he had changed an
‘ass’ into ‘a man,’ and you know Priests can do wonderful things! I am
just thinking that if he could work a change in our ‘ass’ and make out
of him a ‘son’ for us, what a blessing it would be! For we have only
this one thing short of being completely happy.” The old wife eagerly
caught at the idea, and replied, “Yes! Allah has given us much wealth,
but what good will it be to us when we die; strangers will get it; but
if we had a son he would inherit it, and our cup of joy on earth would
be full to the brim. Let us go to the Priest, and make a bargain with
him, that the curse of having no son may no longer rest upon us.”
Whereupon they both sought an audience of the Priest, and approaching
him, said, “Oh Sir! we are both very old, as you see, but we have plenty
of money; but Sir, saddest of all things to tell you is that we are
childless. Now Sir, we overheard you say that you had transformed an ass
into a man. We have an ass, but we have not a son; would you be so good
as to change him for us, and we will give you any sum that you like to
name.”
The Priest was struck all of a heap with surprise and astonishment at
this preposterous request, he said nothing for some minutes, but simply
stared at the aged old couple while he collected his thoughts. “These
people must clearly have heard me speaking angrily to the father of the
worthless scholar, and have taken my words altogether in a literal
sense, but here is evidently a run of luck for me which must not be
thrown away.” Thus he soliloquised, and the old couplet fixed itself in
his thoughts,
Gân kê pooreh-get muth ki heenay
Khuda tujhê deta-mai leta keunnahin.