_CHUNDUN RAJAH._
Once upon a time, a Rajah and Ranee died, leaving seven sons and one
daughter. All these seven sons were married, and the wives of the six
eldest used to be very unkind to their poor little sister-in-law; but
the wife of the seventh brother loved her dearly, and always took her
part against the others. She would say, "Poor little thing! her life
is sad. Her mother wished so long for a daughter, and then the girl
was born and the mother died, and never saw her poor child, or was
able to ask any one to take care of her." At which the wives of the
six elder brothers would answer, "You only take such notice of the
girl in order to vex us." Then, while their husbands were away, they
made up wicked stories against their sister-in-law, which they told
them on their return home; and their husbands believed them rather
than her, and were very angry with her and ordered her to be turned
out of the house. But the wife of the seventh brother did not believe
what the six others said, and was very kind to the little Princess,
and sent her secretly as much food as she could spare from her own
dinner. But as they drove her from their door, the six wives of the
elder brothers cried out, "Go away, wicked girl, go away, and never
let us see your face again until you marry Chundun Rajah![87] When you
invite us to the wedding, and give us, the six eldest, six common
wooden stools to sit on, but the seventh sister (who always takes your
part) a fine emerald chair, we will believe you innocent of all the
evil deeds of which you are accused, but not till then!" This they
said scornfully, railing at her; for Chundun Rajah, of whom they spoke
(who was the great Rajah of a neighboring country), had been dead many
months.
[87] King Sandlewood.
So, sad at heart, the Princess wandered forth into the jungle; and
when she had gone through it, she came upon another, still denser than
the first. The trees grew so thickly overhead that she could scarcely
see the sky, and there was no village or house of living creature
near. The food her youngest sister-in-law had given her was nearly
exhausted, and she did not know where to get more. At last, however,
after journeying on for many days, she came upon a large tank, beside
which was a fine house that belonged to a Rakshas. Being very tired,
she sat down on the edge of the tank to eat some of the parched rice
that remained of her store of provisions; and as she did so she
thought, "This house belongs doubtless to a Rakshas, who perhaps will
see me and kill and eat me; but since no one cares for me, and I have
neither home nor friends, I hold life cheap enough." It happened,
however, that the Rakshas was then out, and there was no one in his
house but a little cat and dog, who were his servants.
The dog's duty was to take care of the saffron with which the Rakshas
colored his face on highdays and holidays, and the cat had charge of
the antimony with which he blackened his eyelids. Before the Princess
had been long by the tank, the little cat spied her out, and running
to her, said, "Oh, sister, sister, I am so hungry, pray give me some
of your dinner." The Princess answered, "I have very little rice left;
when it is all gone I shall starve. If I give you some, what have you
to give me in exchange?" The cat said, "I have charge of the antimony
with which my Rakshas blackens his eyelids--I will give you some of
it;" and running to the house she fetched a nice little potful of
antimony, which she gave to the Princess in exchange for the rice.
When the little dog saw this, he also ran down to the tank, and said,
"Lady, lady, give me some rice, I pray you, for I, too, am very
hungry." But she answered, "I have very little rice left, and when it
is all gone I shall starve. If I give you some of my dinner, what will
you give me in exchange?" The dog said, "I have charge of my Rakshas'
saffron, with which he colors his face. I will give you some of it."
So he ran to the house and fetched a quantity of saffron and gave it
to the Princess, and she gave him also some of the rice. Then, tying
the antimony and saffron up in her saree, she said good-bye to the dog
and cat and went on her way.
Three or four days after this, she found she had nearly reached the
other side of the jungle. The wood was not so thick, and in the
distance she saw a large building that looked like a great tomb. The
Princess determined to go and see what it was, and whether she could
find any one there to give her any food, for she had eaten all the
rice and felt very hungry, and it was getting toward night.
Now the place toward which the Princess went was the tomb of the
Chundun Rajah, but this she did not know.
Chundun Rajah had died many months before, and his father and mother
and sisters, who loved him very dearly, could not bear the idea of his
being buried under the cold ground; so they had built a beautiful
tomb, and inside it they had placed the body on a bed under a canopy,
and it had never decayed, but continued as fair and perfect as when
first put there. Every day Chundun Rajah's mother and sister would
come to the place to weep and lament from sunrise to sunset, but each
evening they returned to their own homes. Hard by was a shrine and
small hut where a Brahmin lived, who had charge of the place; and from
far and near people used to come to visit the tomb of their lost Rajah
and see the great miracle, how the body of him who had been dead so
many months remained perfect and undecayed; but none knew why this
was. When the Princess got near the place a violent storm came on. The
rain beat upon her and wetted her, and it grew so dark she could
hardly see where she was going. She would have been afraid to go into
the tomb had she known about Chundun Rajah; but as it was, the storm
being so violent and night approaching, she ran in there for shelter
as fast as she could, and sat down shivering in one corner. By the
light of an oil lamp that burnt dimly in a niche in the wall, she saw
in front of her the body of the Rajah lying under the canopy, with the
heavy jeweled coverlid over him and the rich hangings all round. He
looked as if he were only asleep, and she did not feel frightened. But
at twelve o'clock, to her great surprise, as she was watching and
waiting, the Rajah came to life; and when he saw her sitting
shivering in the corner, he fetched a light and came toward her and
said, "Who are you?" She answered, "I am a poor lonely girl. I only
came here for shelter from the storm. I am dying of cold and hunger."
And then she told him all her story--how that her sisters-in-law had
falsely accused her, and driven her from among them into the jungle,
bidding her see their faces no more until she married the Chundun
Rajah, who had been dead so many months; and how the youngest had been
kind to her and sent her food, which had prevented her from starving
by the way.
The Rajah listened to the Princess' words, and was certain that they
were true and she no common beggar from the jungles. For, for all her
ragged clothes, she looked a royal lady, and shone like a star in the
darkness. Moreover, her eyelids were darkened with antimony and her
beautiful face painted with saffron, like the face of a Princess. Then
he felt a great pity for her, and said, "Lady, have no fear, for I
will take care of you," and dragging the rich coverlid off his bed he
threw it over her to keep her warm, and going to the Brahmin's house,
which was close by, fetched some rice, which he gave her to eat. Then
he said, "I am the Chundun Rajah, of whom you have heard. I die every
day, but every night I come to life for a little while." She cried,
"Do none of your family know of this? and if so, why do you stay here
in a dismal tomb?" He answered, "None know it but the Brahmin who has
charge of this place. Since my life is thus maimed, what would it
avail to tell my family? It would but grieve them more than to think
me dead. Therefore, I have forbidden him to let them know; and since
my parents only come here by day, they have never found it out. Maybe
I shall some time wholly recover, and till then I will be silent about
my existence." Then he called the Brahmin who had charge of the tomb
and the shrine (and who daily placed an offering of food upon it for
the Rajah to eat when he came to life), and said to him, "Henceforth,
place a double quantity of food upon the shrine, and take care of this
lady. If I ever recover she shall be my Ranee." And having said these
words he died again. Then the Brahmin took the Princess to his little
hut, and bade his wife see that she wanted for nothing, and all the
next day she rested in that place. Very early in the morning Chundun
Rajah's mother and sisters came to visit the tomb, but they did not
see the Princess; and in the evening, when the sun was setting, they
went away. That night, when the Chundun Rajah came to life, he called
the Brahmin, and said to him, "Is the Princess still here?" "Yes," he
answered; "for she is weary with her journey, and she has no home to
go to." The Rajah said, "Since she has neither home nor friends, if
she be willing, you shall marry me to her, and she shall wander no
further in search of shelter." So the Brahmin fetched his shastra[88]
and called all his family as witnesses, and married the Rajah to the
little Princess, reading prayers over them and scattering rice and
flowers upon their heads. And there the Chundun Ranee lived for some
time. She was very happy; she wanted nothing, and the Brahmin and his
wife took as much care of her as if she had been their daughter. Every
day she would wait outside the tomb, but at sunset she always returned
to it and watched for her husband to come to life. One night she said
to him, "Husband, I am happier to be your wife, and hold your hand and
talk to you for two or three hours every evening, than were I married
to some great living Rajah for a hundred years. But oh what joy it
would be if you could come wholly to life again! Do you know what is
the cause of your daily death? and what it is that brings you to life
each night at twelve o'clock?"
[88] Sacred books.
"Yes," he said, "it is because I have lost my Chundun Har,[89] the
sacred necklace that held my soul. A Peri stole it. I was in the
palace garden one day, when many of those winged ladies flew over my
head, and one of them, when she saw me, loved me and asked me to marry
her. But I said no, I would not; and at that she was angry, and tore
the Chundun Har off my neck and flew away with it. That instant I fell
down dead, and my father and mother caused me to be placed in this
tomb; but every night the Peri comes here and takes my necklace off
her neck, and when she takes it off I come to life again, and she asks
me to come away with her and marry her, and she does not put on the
necklace again for two or three hours, waiting to see if I will
consent. During that time I live. But when she finds I will not, she
puts on the necklace again and flies away, and as soon as she puts it
on, I die."[90]
[89] Sandlewood necklace.
[90] See Notes at the end.
"Cannot the Peri be caught?" asked the Chundun Ranee. Her husband
answered, "No, I have often tried to seize back my necklace, for if I
could regain it I should come wholly to life again; but the Peri can
at will render herself invisible and fly away with it, so that it is
impossible for any mortal man to get it." At this news the Chundun
Ranee was sad at heart, for she saw no hope of the Rajah's being
restored to life; and grieving over this she became so ill and unhappy
that even when she had a little baby boy born, it did not much cheer
her, for she did nothing but think, "This poor child will grow up in
this desolate place, and have no kind father day by day to teach him
and help him as other children have, but only see him for a little
while by night; and we are all at the mercy of the Peri, who may any
day fly quite away with the necklace and not return." The Brahmin,
seeing how ill she was, said to the Chundun Rajah, "The Ranee will die
unless she can be somewhere where much care will be taken of her, for
in my poor home my wife and I can do but little for her comfort. Your
mother and sister are good and charitable; let her go to the palace,
where they will only need to see she is ill to take care of her." Now
it happened that in the palace courtyard there was a great slab of
white marble, on which the Chundun Rajah would often rest on the hot
summer days; and because he used to be so fond of it, when he died his
father and mother ordered that it should be taken great care of, and
no one was allowed to so much as touch it. Knowing this, Chundun Rajah
said to his wife, "You are ill; I should like you to go to the palace,
where my mother and sisters will take the greatest care of you. Do
this, therefore: take our child and sit down with him upon the great
slab of marble in the palace courtyard. I used to be very fond of it;
and so now for my sake it is kept with the greatest care, and no one
is allowed to so much as touch it. They will most likely see you
there and order you to go away; but if you then tell them you are ill,
they will, I know, have pity on you and befriend you." The Chundun
Ranee did as her husband told her, placing her little boy on the great
slab of white marble in the palace courtyard and sitting down herself
beside him. Chundun Rajah's sister, who was looking out of the window,
saw her and cried, "Mother, there are a woman and her child resting on
my brother's marble slab; let us tell them to go away." So she ran
down to the place, but when she saw Chundun Ranee and the little boy
she was quite astonished, the Chundun Ranee was so fair and
lovable-looking, and the baby was the image of her dead brother. Then
returning to her mother, she said, "Mother, she who sits upon the
marble stone is the prettiest little lady I ever saw; and do not let
us blame the poor thing; she says she is ill and weary, and the baby
(I know not if it is fancy, or the seeing him on that stone) seems to
me the image of my lost brother."
[Illustration: CHUNDUN RANEE.--p. 276.]
At this the old Ranee and the rest of the family went out, and when
they saw the Chundun Ranee, they all took such a fancy to her and to
the child that they brought her into the palace, and were very kind to
her, and took great care of her; so that in a while she got well and
strong again, and much less unhappy; and they all made a great pet of
the little boy, for they were struck with his strange likeness to the
dead Rajah; and after a time they gave his mother a small house to
live in, close to the palace, where they often used to go and visit
her. There also the Chundun Rajah would go each night when he came to
life, to laugh and talk with his wife and play with his boy, although
he still refused to tell his father and mother of his existence. One
day it happened, however, that the little child told one of the
Princesses (Chundun Rajah's sister) how every evening some one who
came to the house used to laugh and talk with his mother and play with
him, and then go away. The Princess also heard the sound of voices in
Chundun Ranee's house, and saw lights flickering about there when they
were supposed to be fast asleep. Of this she told her mother, saying,
"Let us go down to-morrow night and see what this means; perhaps the
woman we thought so poor and befriended thus is nothing but a cheat,
and entertains all her friends every night at our expense."
So the next evening they went down softly, softly to the place, when
they saw, not the strangers they had expected, but their long-lost
Chundun Rajah. Then, since he could not escape, he told them all--how
that every night for an hour or two he came to life, but was dead all
day. And they rejoiced greatly to see him again, and reproached him
for not letting them know he ever lived, though for so short a time.
He then told them how he had married the Chundun Ranee, and thanked
them for all their loving care of her.
After this he used to come every night and sit and talk with them; but
still each day, to their great sorrow, he died; nor could they divine
any means for getting back his Chundun Har, which the Peri wore round
her neck.
At last one evening, when they were all laughing and chatting
together, seven Peris flew into the room unobserved by them, and one
of the seven was the very Peri who had stolen Chundun Rajah's
necklace, and she held it in her hand.
All the young Peris were very fond of the Chundun Rajah and Chundun
Ranee's boy, and used often to come and play with him, for he was the
image of his father's and mother's loveliness, and as fair as the
morning; and he used to laugh and clap his little hands when he saw
them coming; for though men and women cannot see Peris, little
children can.
Chundun Rajah was tossing the child up in the air when the Peris flew
into the room, and the little boy was laughing merrily. The winged
ladies fluttered round the Rajah and the child, and she that had the
necklace hovered over his head. Then the boy, seeing the glittering
necklace which the Peri held, stretched out his little arms and caught
hold of it, and as he seized it the string broke, and all the beads
fell upon the floor. At this the seven Peris were frightened and flew
away, and the Chundun Ranee, collecting the beads, strung them and
hung them round the Rajah's neck; and there was great joy amongst
those that loved him, because he had recovered the sacred necklace,
and that the spell which doomed him to death was broken.
The glad news was soon known throughout the kingdom, and all the
people were happy and proud to hear it, crying, "We have lost our
young Rajah for such a long, long time, and now one little child has
brought him back to life." And the old Rajah and Ranee (Chundun
Rajah's father and mother) determined that he should be married again
to the Chundun Ranee with great pomp and splendor, and they sent
letters into all the kingdoms of the world, saying, "Our son the
Chundun Rajah has come to life again, and we pray you come to his
wedding."
Then, among those who accepted the invitation, were the Chundun
Ranee's seven brothers and their seven wives; and for her six
sisters-in-law, who had been so cruel to her and caused her to be
driven out into the jungle, the Chundun Ranee prepared six common
wooden stools; but for the seventh, who had been kind to her, she made
ready an emerald throne and a foot-stool adorned with emeralds.
When all the Ranees were taken to their places, the six eldest
complained, saying, "How is this? Six of us are given only common
wooden stools to sit upon, but the seventh has an emerald chair?" Then
the Chundun Ranee stood up, and before the assembled guests told them
her story, reminding her six elder sisters-in-law of their former
taunts, and how they had forbidden her to see them again until the day
of her marriage with the Chundun Rajah, and she explained how unjustly
they had accused her to her brothers. When the Ranees heard this they
were struck dumb with fear and shame, and were unable to answer a
word; and all their husbands, being much enraged to learn how they had
conspired to kill their sister-in-law, commanded that these wicked
woman should be instantly hanged, which was accordingly done. Then, on
the same day that the Chundun Rajah remarried their sister, the six
elder brothers were married to six beautiful ladies of the court amid
great and unheard-of rejoicings, and from that day they all lived
together in perfect peace and harmony until their lives' end.
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