The Story of Three Jewels.
Hear the parable of three jewels—a Ruby, a Pearl, and a Diamond.
There lived in a country far beyond the dark waters a mighty Rajah, whose
name was Kamíl Rahím (All-merciful). Though his home was so distant, he
had sons who dwelt in the land of Hindostan; and the names of these sons
were Mulá Mal, Biharí Lal, Tulsí Rám, and Nihál Chand.
One day the Rajah called one of his servants whose name was Narayan Das
(Servant of God), and thus he gave him command:—
“Go thou to the land in which dwell my four sons, and speak to them thus:
Thus saith the Father whom ye see not, but who cares for you and loves
you, and desires to give treasure to you out of the abundance of his
great riches. Leave the city in which you dwell, cross the river which
lies to the east, and, by the path of which my servant will tell you,
reach a certain mountain. There you will behold by the wayside a landmark
in the shape of a Cross. Dig at the foot of it, and lo! you will find a
treasure. There is a jewel which is a royal gift from myself, such as
none but myself can bestow. In a setting of pure gold are three gems—a
ruby, of which the name is Pardon; a pearl, of which the name is Purity;
and a diamond, of which the name is Heaven. He who wears the ruby over
his heart will be preserved in danger; he who wears the pearl over his
heart will be kept in health; he who in the same manner wears the diamond
will become the heir to a throne. All the treasures of earth are not
to be weighed in the balance against these jewels, Pardon, Purity, and
Heaven.”
The servant Narayan Das prostrated himself before his great Master, and
said, “The will of my Lord shall be obeyed.” Narayan Das had a happy
home, but he went forth from it; he had parents whom he loved, but he
bade them farewell. The sea was wide and the waves were rough, but he
feared not to cross them; lo! he had good tidings to bear to the sons of
his Lord, and the joy of bearing them repaid him for all the toils and
dangers of the journey before him.
After a long and stormy voyage, the messenger from the Father reached the
land of Hindostan; and a few days afterwards he arrived at the city in
which the four brothers dwelt, even Mulá Mal, Biharí Lal, Tulsí Rám, and
Nihál Chand. Narayan Das was weary and faint, but he would not rest till
he had inquired the way to the dwelling of Mulá Mal, who was the eldest
of the four brothers, who lived in different quarters of the same city.
When the messenger entered the presence of Mulá Mal, he saw in him a man
who had upon his brow the spot which marked a worshipper of the goddess
Kalí.[31] It was the morning of a great festival, and Mulá Mal was about
to set forth to bathe in the Ganges,[32] and to do puja (worship) to the
idol whom he adored.
“O Mulá Mal!” cried Narayan Das, “I bring to you good tidings from your
great and all-merciful Father. There is a treasure hidden for you at the
foot of a Cross, and I can direct you how to find it. But you must set
forth at once, or, behold! another may take the treasure, and you may
lose for ever the opportunity of gaining these jewels, Pardon, Purity,
and Heaven.”
But Mulá Mal thought scorn of the faithful messenger, because he was not
in face or garb as one of the people of Hindostan.
“Who art thou, O man of the pale cheek and red beard?” he cried; “and
what dost thou ask at my hand?”[33]
“I am a servant of Kamíl Rahím, and your friend; and I come, not to take
from you, but to give to you,” replied Narayan Das; “yea, I have risked
my life to bring to you good tidings from afar.”
“I care not for thy tidings, nor do I believe thy word,” cried Mulá Mal
with contempt. “Why dost thou delay me, when I am about to do puja to my
great goddess?”
“O my lord,” cried Narayan Das earnestly, “there is no image made by
the hands of man that can bestow on its worshipper Pardon, Purity, and
Heaven. Wherefore will my lord not listen? Will he spurn from him the
richest of treasures,—even treasures that will, if worn over the heart,
preserve him in danger, keep him in health, and make him the heir to a
throne? Read but this letter from your Father, and see in it the truth of
all that I have spoken;” and Narayan Das drew from his bosom a book on
which was inscribed these words: “The Holy Scriptures.”
“Away with thy book!” cried the worshipper of Kalí; “I desire not thy
jewels, nor will I listen to thee.”
At that moment there was heard a loud noise of drumming and shouting;
a great multitude was about to pour forth from the city to worship the
idol. And with the multitude Mulá Mal went forth: he had despised the
message of his Father; he had lost the treasure which had been freely
offered to him,—even Pardon, Purity, and Heaven.
Narayan Das sighed deeply. “Alas!” he cried, “woe is me that the ear
should be closed to the voice of friendship, and that the eye should
be turned away from the gift of a Father’s love! But if my message be
rejected by the first brother, it may find a place in the heart of the
second.”
By mere inquiries Narayan Das found the house of the second son, Biharí
Lal.
Biharí Lal was a more sensible man than Mulá Mal, and he did not think
scorn of the messenger, nor of the message, as his brother had done.
“Surely,” he said to himself, “no light cause would have made this good
man leave his country, travel so great a distance, and go through so many
dangers to bring good tidings to me. Perhaps in the place of which he
tells me this treasure may really be hidden. Would it not be wisdom in me
at least to read the letter which he says that my Father has written, and
to try whether the jewels Pardon, Purity, and Heaven may not be found at
the foot of the Cross?”
Narayan Das saw with joy that Biharí Lal was not as the deaf adder that
will not hear the voice of the charmer. He was not as the blind man who
sits hungry beneath the date-tree, and who knows not that its clusters of
fruit are within his reach.
“Oh haste, my lord!” cried the messenger; “for if you delay, who knows
whether you may not lose for ever the ruby, the pearl, and the diamond
which are freely offered to you by your Father!”
But Biharí Lal made reply: “I cannot and I will not set forth at once,
nor have I time at present even to read the letter of my Father. Bales
of merchandise have just arrived from Persia; I must examine their
contents. I have many friends in the city, and I have invited them all to
a banquet. Business takes up my time, and what is left from business is
filled up by amusement. Go your way now, O messenger! perhaps when I have
nothing else to do I may seek from you guidance to the place where I may
find the ruby, the pearl, and the diamond, in their setting of gold.”
Thus absorbed in the business and cares of this world, the man went on
his way. Alas! never, never was he to possess the treasure which he
delayed to search for! On the very day on which he concluded a bargain
which made him the richest merchant in the city, even on the night on
which he had feasted at the house of a prince, he was smitten down by
cholera. Biharí Lal died in much suffering; his body was burned, and
his ashes were cast into the Ganges. Never did he find the treasures of
Pardon, Purity, and Heaven! The acceptable time for Biharí Lal had passed
for ever away!
Then Narayan Das found his way to the house of Tulsí Rám, who was the
third of the brothers who dwelt in that city.
Tulsí Rám was a man of a pleasant countenance and of an open heart. When
he heard of his Father’s love, his whole face brightened; and when he saw
his Father’s letter, he pressed it first to his heart and then to his
brow. Nay, Tulsí Rám read enough of the letter to feel sure that Narayan
Das was a true messenger, and that at the foot of the Cross he was
indeed sure to find the treasures of Pardon, Purity, and Heaven. Gladly
did Tulsí Rám welcome the messenger who had come so far to bring good
tidings, and eagerly he asked his way to the place where the jewels were
buried.
“Will you accompany me thither?” asked Tulsí Rám of Narayan Das.
The messenger shook his head. “I will show you the road, but you must
tread it alone,” replied Narayan Das. “Fear not if you find it rough and
thorny at first. Courage and perseverance are required of him who would
gain the treasures; has any one ever yet conquered a kingdom by idly
sleeping on a bed of roses? Go forth boldly, O Tulsí Rám! And forget not
to take with you the staff of Prayer; without its help you will never
overcome all the difficulties of the way.”
The countenance of Tulsí Rám grew grave when he reflected on these
difficulties, for he was not a man of a resolute will. It needed much
perseverance on the part of Narayan Das to make Tulsí Rám so much as
start on his journey, though he did not doubt the worth of the prize
which he went forth to seek.
And when Tulsí Rám set forth at last, he was as one who seeth the eyes of
a wild beast glaring behind every bush; he was full of cowardly fears.
Tulsí Rám shrank back even from shadows; and when sharp stones wounded
his feet, he first felt inclined to sit down and weep, and then to turn
back and return to his home. Yet some words in his Father’s letter gave
a little courage to Tulsí Rám:—_I will not fail thee nor forsake thee;
be strong and of a good courage_ (Josh. i. 5, 6). _Know ye not that they
which run in a race run all, but one receiveth the prize? So run, that ye
may obtain_ (1 Cor. ix. 24).
At last the traveller came to the stream which it was needful that he
should cross; and the name of that stream was Baptism. The waters were
bright and pure, but the banks were steep; and Tulsí Rám saw that a plant
with exceedingly sharp thorns grew thickly upon those banks, and the name
of the plant was Persecution.[34]
Tulsí Rám sat down on a stone on the top of the nearer bank, and wrung
his hands and beat his breast, and groaned in the heaviness of his spirit.
“Oh, is there no other way than that of crossing this river of Baptism,”
he cried, “by which I can reach the treasures offered to me by my
Father,—even the rich jewels which, worn over the heart, will bring
safety to the soul, health to the soul, and the crown of eternal life? I
dare not—oh, I dare not go forward! I would rather lose that which I feel
to be indeed above all price, than encounter those dreadful thorns. Alas,
that the thorny plant of Persecution should shut me out from the waters
of Baptism!”
Then Tulsí Rám thought that he heard a voice, sweeter than the voice of
an angel; and it said,—_Fear not, for I am with thee; be not dismayed,
for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I
will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness_ (Isa. xli. 10).
_Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life_ (Rev.
ii. 10).
With fresh energy and hope Tulsí Rám arose and attempted to descend the
bank in order to cross over the river; but, alas, he dropped the staff of
Prayer, and did not stoop to lift it again! Without that staff he had not
the strength to force his way through the thorns of Persecution. Tulsí
Rám tried to press on for a time, but the thorns tore his garments and
wounded his flesh. His feet were bleeding and sore, and his courage at
last utterly failed him. When Tulsí Rám had gone half-way down the bank
he stopped, groaned, hesitated, and then turned back. Alas, for him who
had dropped the staff of Prayer! alas, for him who had lost the jewels
for which he longed, because he had not the courage and perseverance to
win them!
As Tulsí Rám was sadly returning to the city, he met his youngest
brother, Nihál Chand. He beheld Nihál Chand hurrying on with a firm step
towards the river of Baptism; he looked not to the right hand nor to the
left, for his was a resolute spirit.
“How is it that thou art turning back, O Tulsí?” he cried, when he
saw his brother. “I knew that thou didst start before me, but I hoped
by quick walking to overtake thee, so that we might together find the
priceless treasures, the glad tidings of which have been brought to thee
as well as to me.”
“Alas, my brother!” replied Tulsí Rám, with a deep sigh, “I turn back
because of the difficulties o£ the road. If no thorns of Persecution grew
by the river of Baptism, surely ere now I should have crossed it; but see
how my flesh has been torn!”
“Pardon, Purity, and Heaven,—the ruby, the pearl, and the diamond,—are
worth a little struggle and a little pain,” said the resolute Nihál
Chand. “Though there were a lion in the way, he should not stay me. It is
written in the Book of my Father,—_Though an host should encamp against
me, my heart shall not fear_.”
“O Nihál!” cried the timid-spirited Tulsí Rám, “I am not as thou art; yet
if it be my destiny to wear the jewels,[35] surely they will be mine,
even though I remain on this side of the waters of Baptism. All is not
in my own hands; who can oppose the decrees of Fate?”
“Deceive not thyself, nor excuse thy own sloth by talking about Fate!”
exclaimed Nihál Chand. “If, when thou wert preparing thy meal, a tiger
were to steal upon thee, wouldst thou quietly sit still and say,—‘If it
be my destiny, I shall eat this dinner;’ or, ‘If it be my destiny, the
tiger will eat me’? No,” continued Nihál Chand with much animation; “thou
wouldst start up, snatch the nearest weapon, and struggle for life like
a man. Even so, with courage and resolution, press on for the prize set
before thee.”
But Tulsí Rám only mournfully shook his head, and with a slow step and a
heavy heart returned to the city.
“He is a poor, weak creature,” muttered Nihál Chand, “and not worthy to
wear the jewels which he has not the courage to seek. I will go forward
without him.”
Nihál Chand was indeed a very different man from any of his three
brothers. He had more wisdom than Mulá Mal, and his acute mind saw at
once the folly of bowing down to idols of wood and stone. Nihál Chand was
not, like Biharí Lal, inclined to waste precious time in delay, and to
give up his whole soul to the cares of this perishing world. And Nihál
Chand, unlike Tulsí Rám, had a firm and fearless spirit, and a will as
strong as iron. No thorns of Persecution could stay the resolute man; he
pressed through them as one who is shod with brass. And when Nihál Chand
had passed the waters of Baptism, with what pleasure he looked back and
smiled! Then, feeling that the worst of his trials was over, on Nihál
hastened towards the hill, which was soon in sight. He could now see, at
no great distance, the Cross at the foot of which the treasure lay buried
which had been given to him by his Father.
On the way Nihál Chand was joined by a stranger, who appeared to be
travelling in the same direction. The man was of very dark complexion,
but gaily dressed, and his name was Temptation.