There was once a Ranee who had no children, so she made a great pet
of a young squirrel, and fed it day after day. One day it entered
her head to deceive the Rajah, so she told him that, before the end
of the year, an heir would be born in the Palace.
On the appointed day she sent her own nurse (whom she had bribed) to
tell the Rajah that the child was born, and was a daughter. The old
Brahmin of the Palace hastened to see the young Princess, who was,
in reality, no child, but the tame squirrel; so the Ranee persuaded
him to go and tell the Rajah that he was now the father of a most
lovely daughter: but the stars pointed out that he must not look on her
face for twelve years, for, if she looked at him, he would die, and,
if he looked at her, she would die. The poor Rajah had no choice but
to agree, and thus the Ranee kept up her deception for twelve years,
and hid her pet squirrel from everybody.
At last, when the twelve years were over, she said one day to her
husband: "Do not look upon your daughter's face till she is married,
lest evil come upon her, but go you and make arrangements to marry
her to a Prince of good family."
So they sent the old Brahmin to seek for a husband for her; and he
went from place to place, until he came to a city where there was a
Rajah who had seven sons, all of whom were married but the youngest,
whose name was Shahzadah; so the Brahmin chose him, and all was
prepared for the marriage.
There was a great feast held, and great rejoicings daily took place
in the Palace. When at last the dooly or litter came, for the bride
to be carried to her home, the Ranee hid the squirrel inside it,
and nobody guessed that there was, in reality, no bride.
On reaching his home the young bridegroom had the dooly placed at
the door of his zenana, according to Oriental custom, so that none
might see his bride enter; and great indeed was his surprise, when
he looked inside, to find nobody there but a squirrel.
For very shame he held his peace, and told nobody of it, but gave
orders in the Palace that he and his wife would live apart by
themselves; and she would be in such strict purdah, that even the
women of the household would not be allowed to visit her. This gave
great offence to everybody; but they put it down to his jealousy,
owing to his wife's great beauty, and obeyed.
At last his other brother's wife rebelled, and said: "I refuse to do
all the household work; your wife must also take her share in it."
Shahzadah was now very sad, for he felt the time had come for his
secret to be discovered, and he would become the laughing-stock of
the whole Palace.
The squirrel, who was a great favourite of his, noticed his sadness,
and asked him the cause of it. "Why are you sad, O Prince?"
"I am sad because they say you must do some of the household work;
and how are you to do it, being only a squirrel?"
"What is it they want me to do?"
"To leepo or plaster the floor."
"Well, tell them to do their own portion of the work, and leave me
to do mine at my leisure."
This was done, and at night the squirrel went and dipped her tail into
the limewash and plaster, and soon had the room better done than the
other Ranees.
In the morning all the household were surprised to see the clever
way in which Shahzadah's wife had done her work, and they said:
"No wonder you hide your wife, when she is so clever."
The next day the task was to grind some corn, and again Shahzadah's
heart was heavy, for how could a squirrel turn a heavy stone handmill,
and grind corn? But the squirrel said as before: "Tell them to do
their work, and to leave mine alone. I will do it when I have finished
my bath."
When night came, she went into the room, and with her sharp little
teeth, kutter, kutter, kutter, soon reduced the corn to powder.
Shahzadah was very pleased with her, and so were they all, and nothing
more was said until the next day, when the allotted task was to
make a native dish called goolgoolahs. This is done by mixing goor,
or molasses, with flour and water, and frying it in ghee, or oil,
like fritters.
The poor little squirrel was indeed at her wits' end how to perform the
task, for how could so small an animal make so difficult a dish? She
tried, and she tried, but failed each time in her attempts, until it
was nearly morning.
Just then the God Mahadeo and his wife Parbatti were taking a walk
in the dawning light of day. Parbatti saw the poor little squirrel's
efforts, and said to Mahadeo: "I will not rest content till you
turn that small creature into a human being, so that she can perform
her task."
At first Mahadeo refused, but, after a time, he took out a knife, and,
making a cut in his finger, took the blood from it, and sprinkled it
upon the squirrel, who forthwith turned into a most beautiful Princess.
Just then, as she sat finishing her task, other members of the Royal
Family awoke, and came in; they were greatly amazed at her beauty,
and led her by the hand to their own apartments.
Meantime, Shahzadah, her husband, was stricken with grief, thinking his
poor little squirrel had been burnt to death. He sought her everywhere,
and when he could not find her, began to cry: "O my Ghose, my Ghose,
where are you?"
The women standing there scolded him for this, and said: "Why do you
call your beautiful wife a young squirrel? She is not dead, but has at
last been found by us, and is with the other Princesses in the Palace."
But Shahzadah, who knew nothing of what had happened, only wept the
more, for he thought they were making fun of him, so he went to his own
room, where he flung himself on his couch, and continued to weep. At
last he looked up and saw, standing beside him, a beautiful girl,
who said: "Do not weep, O Prince, for I am your squirrel." Then she
told him all that had happened.
This was indeed good news, and it was not long before the grateful
Princess wrote to her foster-mother, who had been so good and kind
to her when she was only a helpless little creature, and invited her
and her father the Rajah to come on a visit. This was the first time
the Rajah had seen or kissed his daughter, and he was indeed pleased
to find she was so beautiful. So there were great rejoicings in the
Palace, and they all lived happily ever after.