kingdom far behind, he one day came upon the outskirts of a great
city, where, instead of taking the position due to his rank, and
sending to inform the Rajah of his arrival, he went to a poor
Carpenter's house, and begged of him a lodging for the night. The
Carpenter was busy making wooden clogs in the porch of his house, but
he looked up and nodded, saying, "Young man, you are welcome to any
assistance a stranger may need and we can give. If you are in want of
food, you will find my wife and daughter in the house; they will be
happy to cook for you." The Rajah went inside and said to the
Carpenter's daughter, "I am a stranger and have travelled a long way;
I am both tired and hungry; cook me some dinner as fast as you can,
and I will pay you for your trouble." She answered, "I would willingly
cook you some dinner at once, but I have no wood to light the fire,
and the jungle is some way off." "It matters not," said the Rajah;
"this will do to light the fire, and I'll make the loss good to your
father"; and taking a pair of new clogs which the Carpenter had just
finished making, he broke them up and lighted the fire with them.
Next morning, he went into the jungle, cut wood, and, having made a
pair of new clogs--better than those with which he had lighted the
fire the evening before--placed them with the rest of the goods for
sale in the Carpenter's shop. Shortly afterward, one of the servants
of the Rajah of that country came to buy a pair of clogs for his
master, and seeing these new ones, said to the Carpenter, "Why, man,
these clogs are better than all the rest put together. I will take
none other to the Rajah. I wish you would always make such clogs as
these." And throwing down ten gold mohurs on the floor of the hut, he
took up the clogs and went away.
The Carpenter was much surprised at the whole business. In the first
place, he usually received only two or three rupees for each pair of
clogs; and in the second, he knew that these which the Rajah's servant
had judged worth ten gold mohurs had not been made by him; and how
they had come there he could not think, for he felt certain they were
not with the rest of the clogs the night before. He thought and
thought, but the more he thought about the matter the more puzzled he
got, and he went to talk about it to his wife and daughter. Then his
daughter said, "Oh, those must have been the clogs the stranger made!"
And she told her father how he had lighted the fire the night before
with two of the clogs which were for sale, and had afterward fetched
wood from the jungle and made another pair to replace them.
The Carpenter, at this news, was more astonished than ever, and he
thought to himself, "Since this stranger seems a quiet, peaceable sort
of man, and can make clogs so well, it is a great pity he should leave
this place; he would make a good husband for my daughter"; and,
catching hold of the young Rajah, he propounded his scheme to him.
(But all this time he had no idea that his guest was a Rajah.)
Now the Carpenter's daughter was a very pretty girl--as pretty as any
Ranee you ever saw; she was also good-tempered, clever, and could cook
extremely well. So when the Carpenter asked the Rajah to be his
son-in-law, he looked at the father, the mother, and the girl, and
thinking to himself that many a better man had a worse fate, he said,
"Yes, I will marry your daughter, and stay here and make clogs." So
the Rajah married the Carpenter's daughter.
This Rajah was very clever at making all sorts of things in wood. When
he had made all the clogs he wished to sell next day, he would amuse
himself in making toys; and in this way he made a thousand wooden
parrots. They were as like real parrots as possible. They had each two
wings, two legs, two eyes, and a sharp beak. And when the Rajah had
finished them all, he painted and varnished them and put them, one
afternoon, outside the house to dry.
Night came on, and with it came Parbuttee and Mahdeo, flying round the
world to see the different races of men. Among the many places they
visited was the city where the Carpenter lived; and in the garden in
front of the house they saw the thousand wooden parrots which the
Rajah had made and painted and varnished, all placed out to dry. Then
Parbuttee turned to Mahdeo, and said, "These parrots are very well
made--they need nothing but life. Why should not we give them life?"
Mahdeo answered, "What would be the use of that? It would be a strange
freak, indeed!" "Oh," said Parbuttee, "I only meant you to do it as an
amusement. It would be so funny to see the wooden parrots flying
about! But do not do it if you don't like." "You would like it,
then?" answered Mahdeo. "Very well, I will do it." And he endowed the
thousand parrots with life.
Parbuttee and Mahdeo then flew away.
Next morning the Rajah got up early to see if the varnish he had put
on the wooden parrots was dry; but no sooner did he open the door
than--marvel of marvels!--the thousand wooden parrots all came walking
into the house, flapping their wings and chatting to each other.
Hearing the noise, the Carpenter and the Carpenter's wife and daughter
came running out to see what was the matter, and were not less
astonished than the Rajah himself at the miracle which had taken
place. Then the Carpenter's wife turned to her son-in-law, and said,
"It is all very well that you should have made these wooden parrots;
but I don't know where we are to find food for them! Great, strong
parrots like these will eat not less than a pound of rice apiece every
day. Your father-in-law and I cannot afford to procure as much as that
for them in this poor house. If you wish to keep them, you must live
elsewhere, for we cannot provide for you all."
"Very well," said the Rajah; "you shall not have cause to accuse me of
ruining you, for from henceforth I will have a house of my own." So he
and his wife went to live in a house of their own, and he took the
thousand parrots with him, and his mother-in-law gave her daughter
some corn and rice and money to begin housekeeping with. Moreover, he
found that the parrots, instead of being an expense, were the means of
increasing his fortune; for they flew away every morning early to get
food, and spent the whole day out in the fields; and every evening,
when they returned home, each parrot brought in his beak a stalk of
corn or rice, or whatever it had found good to eat. Their master
therefore was regularly supplied with more food than enough; and what
with selling what he did not require, and working at his trade, he
soon became quite a rich carpenter.
After he had been living in this way very happily for some time, one
night, when he fell asleep, the Rajah dreamed a wonderful dream, and
this was the dream:
He thought that very, very far away beyond the Red Sea was a beautiful
kingdom surrounded by seven other seas; and that it belonged to a
Rajah and Ranee who had one lovely daughter, named Panch-Phul Ranee
(the Five Flower Queen), after whom the whole kingdom was called
Panch-Phul Ranee's country; and that this Princess lived in the centre
of her father's kingdom, in a little house round which were seven wide
ditches, and seven great hedges made of spears; and that she was
called Panch-Phul Ranee because she was so light and delicate that she
weighed no more than five white lotus flowers! Moreover, he dreamed
that this Princess had vowed to marry no one who would not cross the
seven seas, and jump the seven ditches and seven hedges made of
spears.
After dreaming this the young Rajah awoke, and feeling much puzzled,
got up, and sitting with his head in his hands, tried to think the
matter over and discover if he had ever heard anything like his dream
before; but he could make nothing of it.
While he was thus thinking, his wife awoke and asked him what was the
matter. He told her, and she said, "That is a strange dream. If I were
you, I'd ask the old parrot about it; he is a wise bird, and perhaps
he knows." This parrot of which she spoke was the most wise of all the
thousand wooden parrots. The Rajah took his wife's advice, and when
all the birds came home that evening, he called the old parrot and
told him his dream, saying, "Can this be true?" To which the parrot
replied, "It is all true. The Panch-Phul Ranee's country lies beyond
the Red Sea, and is surrounded by seven seas, and she dwells in a
house built in the centre of her father's kingdom. Round her house are
seven ditches, and seven hedges made of spears, and she has vowed not
to marry any man who cannot jump these seven ditches and seven hedges;
and because she is very beautiful many great and noble men have tried
to do this, but in vain.
"The Rajah and Ranee, her father and mother, are very fond of her and
proud of her. Every day she goes to the palace to see them, and they
weigh her in a pair of scales. They put her in one scale and five
lotus flowers in the other, and she's so delicate and fragile she
weighs no heavier than the five little flowers, so they call her the
Panch-Phul Ranee. Her father and mother are very proud of this."
"I should like to go to that country and see the Panch-Phul Ranee,"
said the Rajah; "but I don't know how I could cross the seven seas."
"I will show you how to manage that," replied the old parrot. "I and
another parrot will fly close together, I crossing my left over his
right wing; so that we will move along as if we were one bird (using
only our outside wings to fly with), and on the chair made of our
interlaced wings you shall sit, and we will carry you safely across
the seven seas. On the way we will every evening alight in some high
tree and rest, and every morning we can go on again." "That sounds a
good plan; I have a great desire to try it," said the Rajah. "Wife,
what should you think of my going to the Panch-Phul Ranee's country,
and seeing if I can jump the seven ditches, and seven hedges made of
spears. Will you let me try?"
"Yes," she answered. "If you like to go and marry her, go; only take
care that you do not kill yourself; and mind you come back some day."
And she prepared food for him to take with him, and took off her gold
and silver bangles, which she placed in a bundle of warm things, that
he might be in need neither of money nor clothes on the journey. He
then charged the nine hundred and ninety-eight parrots he left behind
him to bring her plenty of corn and rice daily (that she might never
need food while he was away), and took her to the house of her father,
in whose care she was to remain during his absence; and he wished her
good-bye, saying, "Do not fear but that I will come back to you, even
if I do win the Panch-Phul Ranee, for you will always be my first
wife, though you are the Carpenter's daughter."
The old parrot and another parrot then spread their wings, on which
the Rajah seated himself as on a chair, and rising up in the air, they
flew away with him out of sight.
Far, far, far they flew, as fast as parrots can fly, over hills, over
forests, over rivers, over valleys, on, on, on, hour after hour, day
after day, week after week, only staying to rest every night when it
got too dark to see where they were going. At last they reached the
seven seas which surrounded the Panch-Phul Ranee's country. When once
they began crossing the seas they could not rest (for there was
neither rock nor island on which to alight), so they were obliged to
fly straight across them, night and day, until they gained the shore.
By reason of this the parrots were too exhausted on their arrival to
go as far as the city where the Rajah, Panch-Phul Ranee's father,
lived, but they flew down to rest on a beautiful banyan tree, which
grew not far from the sea, close to a small village. The Rajah
determined to go into the village and get food and shelter there. He
told the parrots to stay in the banyan tree till his return; then,
leaving his bundle of clothes and most of his money in their charge,
he set off on foot toward the nearest house.
After a little while he reached a Malee's cottage, and giving a gold
mohur to the Malee's wife, got her to provide him with food and
shelter for the night.
Next morning he rose early, and said to his hostess, "I am a stranger
here, and know nothing of the place. What is the name of your
country?" "This," she said, "is Panch-Phul Ranee's country."
"And what is the last news in your town?" he asked, "Very bad news
indeed," she replied. "You must know our Rajah has one only
daughter--a most beautiful Princess--and her name is Panch-Phul Ranee,
for she is so light and delicate that she weighs no heavier than five
lotus flowers. After her this whole country is called Panch-Phul
Ranee's country. She lives in a small bungalow in the centre of the
city you see yonder; but, unluckily for us, she has vowed to marry no
man who cannot jump on foot over the seven hedges made of spears, and
across the seven great ditches that surround her house. This cannot be
done, Babamah! I don't know how many hundreds of thousands of Rajahs
have tried to do it and died in the attempt! Yet the Princess will not
break her vow. Daily, worse and worse tidings come from the city of
fresh people having been killed in trying to jump the seven hedges and
seven ditches, and I see no end to the misfortunes that will arise
from it. Not only are so many brave men lost to the world, but, since
the Princess will marry no one who does not succeed in this, she
stands a chance of not marrying at all; and if that be so, when the
Rajah dies there will be no one to protect her and claim the right to
succeed to the throne. All the nobles will probably fight for the Raj,
and the whole kingdom be turned topsy-turvy."
"Mahi," said the Rajah, "if that is all there is to do, I will try and
win your Princess, for I can jump right well."
"Baba," answered the Malee's wife, "do not think of such a thing; are
you mad? I tell you, hundreds of thousands of men have said these
words before, and been killed for their rashness. What power do you
think you possess, to succeed where all before you have failed? Give
up all thought of this, for it is utter folly."
"I will not do it," answered the Rajah, "before going to consult some
of my friends."
So he left the Malee's cottage, and returned to the banyan tree to
talk over the matter with the parrots; for he thought they would be
able to carry him on their wings across the seven ditches and seven
hedges made of spears. When he reached the old tree the parrot said to
him, "It is two days since you left us; what news have you brought
from the village?" The Rajah answered, "The Panch-Phul Ranee still
lives in the house surrounded by the seven ditches, and seven hedges
made of spears, and has vowed to marry no man who cannot jump over
them; but cannot you parrots, who brought me all the way over the
seven seas, carry me on your wings across these great barriers?"
"You stupid man!" answered the old parrot, "of course we could; but
what would be the good of doing so? If we carried you across, it would
not be at all the same thing as your jumping across, and the Princess
would no more consent to marry you than she would now; for she has
vowed to marry no one who has not jumped across _on foot_. If you want
to do the thing, why not do it yourself, instead of talking nonsense.
Have you forgotten how, when you were a little boy, you were taught to
jump by conjurors and tumblers (for the parrot knew all the Rajah's
history)? Now is the time to put their lessons in practice. If you can
jump the seven ditches, and seven hedges made of spears, you will have
done a good work, and be able to marry the Panch-Phul Ranee; but if
not, this is a thing in which we cannot help you."
"You reason justly," replied the Rajah. "I will try to put in practice
the lessons I learnt when a boy; meantime, do you stay here till my
return."
So saying, he went away to the city, which he reached by nightfall.
Next morning early he went to where the Princess's bungalow stood, to
try to jump the fourteen great barriers. He was strong and agile, and
he jumped the seven great ditches, and six of the seven hedges made of
spears; but in running to jump the seventh hedge he hurt his foot,
and, stumbling, fell upon the spears and died--run through and through
with the cruel iron spikes.
When Panch-Phul Ranee's father and mother got up that morning and
looked out, as their custom was, toward their daughter's bungalow,
they saw something transfixed upon the seventh hedge of spears, but
what it was they could not make out, for it dazzled their eyes. So the
Rajah called his Wuzeer and said to him, "For some days I have seen no
one attempt to jump the seven hedges and seven ditches round
Panch-Phul Ranee's bungalow; but what is that which I now see upon the
seventh hedge of spears?" The Wuzeer answered, "That is a Rajah's son,
who has failed, like all who have gone before him." "But how is it,"
asked the Rajah, "that he thus dazzles our eyes?"
"It is," replied the Wuzeer, "because he is so beautiful. Of all that
have died for the sake of Panch-Phul Ranee, this youth is, beyond
doubt, the handsomest." "Alas!" cried the Rajah, "how many and how
many brave men has my daughter killed? I will have no more die for
her. Let us send her and the dead man together away into the jungle."
Then he ordered the servants to fetch the young Rajah's body. There he
lay, still and beautiful, with a glory shining round him as the
moonlight shines round the clear bright moon, but without a spark of
life.
When the Rajah saw him, he said, "Oh, pity, pity, that so brave and
handsome a boy should have come dying after this girl! Yet he is but
one of the thousands of thousands who have died thus to no purpose.
Pull up the spears and cast them into the seven ditches, for they
shall remain no longer."
Then he commanded two palanquins to be prepared and men in readiness
to carry them, and said, "Let the girl be married to the young Rajah,
and let both be taken far away into the jungle, that we may never see
them more. Then there will be quiet in the land again."
The Ranee, Panch-Phul Ranee's mother, cried bitterly at this, for she
was very fond of her daughter, and she begged her husband not to send
her away so cruelly--the living with the dead; but the Rajah was
inexorable. "That poor boy died," he said; "let my daughter die, too!
I'll have no more men killed here."
So the two palanquins were prepared. Then he placed his daughter in
the one, and her dead husband in the other, and said to the
palkee-bearers, "Take these palkees and go out into the jungle until
you have reached a place so desolate that not so much as a sparrow is
to be seen, and there leave them both."
And so they did. Deep down in the jungle, where no bright sun could
pierce the darkness, nor human voice be heard, far from any habitation
of man or means of supporting life, on the edge of a dank, stagnant
morass that was shunned by all but noisome reptiles and wandering
beasts of prey, they set them down and left them, the dead husband and
the living wife, alone to meet the horrors of the coming night--alone,
without a chance of rescue.
Panch-Phul Ranee heard the bearers' retreating footsteps, and their
voices getting fainter and fainter in the distance, and felt that she
had nothing to hope for but death.
Night seemed coming on apace, for though the sun had not set, the
jungle was dark so that but little light pierced the gloom; and she
thought she would take a last look at the husband her vow had killed,
and, sitting beside him, wait till starvation should make her as he
was, or some wild animal put a more speedy end to her sufferings.
She left her palkee and went toward his. There he lay with closed eyes
and close-shut lips; black curling hair, which escaped from under his
turban, concealed a ghastly wound on his temple. There was no look of
pain on the face, and the long, sweeping eyelashes gave it such a
tender, softened expression she could hardly believe that he was dead.
He was, in truth, very beautiful; and, watching him, she said to
herself, "Alas, what a noble being is here lost to the world! what an
earth's joy is extinguished! Was it for this I was cold, and proud,
and stern--to break the cup of my own happiness and to be the death of
such as you? Must you now never know that you won your wife? Must you
never hear her ask your pardon for the past, nor know her cruel
punishment? Ah, if you had but lived, how dearly I would have loved
you! Oh, my husband! my husband!" And sinking down on the ground, she
buried her face in her hands and cried bitterly.
While she was sitting thus, night closed over the jungle, and brought
with it wild beasts that had left their dens and lairs in search of
prey--to roam about, as the heat of the day was over. Tigers, lions,
elephants, and bison, all came by turns, crushing through the
underwood which surrounded the place where the palkees were, but they
did no harm to Panch-Phul Ranee, for she was so fair that not even the
cruel beasts of the forests would injure her. At last, about four
o'clock in the morning, all the wild animals had gone except two
little jackals, who had been very busy watching the rest and picking
the bones left by the tigers. Tired with running about, they lay down
to rest close to the palkees. Then one little jackal said to the
other, who was her husband, "Do tell me a little story." "Dear me!"
exclaimed he, "what people you women are for stories! Well, look just
in front of you; do you see those two?" "Yes," she answered; "what of
them?" "That woman you see sitting on the ground," he said, "is the
Panch-Phul Ranee." "And what son of a Rajah is the man in the palkee?"
asked she. "That," he replied, "is a very sorrowful son. His father
was so unkind to him that he left his own home, and went to live in
another country very far from this; and there he dreamed about the
Panch-Phul Ranee, and came to our land in order to marry her, but he
was killed in jumping the seventh hedge of spears, and all he gained
was to die for her sake."
"That is very sad," said the first little jackal; "but could he never
by any chance come to life again?" "Yes," answered the other; "maybe
he could, if only someone knew how to apply the proper remedies."
"What are the proper remedies, and how could he be cured?" asked the
lady jackal. (Now, all this conversation had been heard by Panch-Phul
Ranee, and when this question was asked she listened very eagerly and
attentively for the answer.)
"Do you see this tree?" replied her husband. "Well, if some of its
leaves were crushed, and a little of the juice put into the Rajah's
two ears and upon his upper lip, and some upon his temples, also, and
some upon the spear-wounds in his side, he would come to life again
and be as well as ever."
At this moment day dawned, and the two little jackals ran away.
Panch-Phul Ranee did not forget their words. She, a Princess born, who
had never put her foot to the ground before (so delicately and
tenderly had she been reared), walked over the rough clods of earth
and the sharp stones till she reached the place where the tree grew of
which the jackals had spoken. She gathered a number of its leaves,
and, with hands and feet that had never before done coarse or common
work, beat and crushed them down. They were so stiff, and strong that
it took her a long time. At last, after tearing them, and stamping on
them, and pounding them between two stones, and biting the hardest
parts, she thought they were sufficiently crushed; and rolling them up
in a corner of her saree, she squeezed the juice through it on to her
husband's temples, and put a little on his upper lip and into his
ears, and some also on the spear-wound in his side. And when she had
done this, he awoke as if he had been only sleeping, and sat up,
wondering where he was. Before him stood Panch-Phul Ranee shining like
a glorious star, and all around them was the dark jungle.
It would be hard to say which of them was the more astonished--the
Rajah or the Princess. She was surprised that the remedy should have
taken such speedy effect, and could hardly believe her eyes when she
saw her husband get up. And if he looked beautiful when dead, much
more handsome did he seem to her now, so full of life and animation
and power--the picture of health and strength. And he, in his turn,
was lost in amazement at the exquisite loveliness of the lady who
stood before him. He did not know who she could be, for he had never
seen her like, except in a dream. Could she be really the
world-renowned Panch-Phul Ranee, or was he dreaming still? He feared
to move lest he should break the spell. But as he sat there wondering,
she spoke, saying, "You marvel at what has taken place. You do not
know me--I am Panch-Phul Ranee, your wife."