"I am not a fool. I speak of what I have seen with my own eyes and
have heard with my own ears."
"Passing strange! Be it so. I will inquire concerning it."
On the morrow the King repeated to his vizier what his wife had
told him, and bade him investigate the matter, and be ready with a
satisfactory answer within six months, on pain of death. The vizier
promised to do his best, though he felt almost certain of failure. For
five months he labored indefatigably to find a reason for the laughter
of the fish. He sought everywhere and from every one. The wise and
learned, and they who were skilled in magic and in all manner of
trickery, were consulted. Nobody, however, could explain the matter;
and so he returned broken-hearted to his house, and began to arrange
his affairs in prospect of certain death, for he had had sufficient
experience of the King to know that his Majesty would not go back from
his threat. Among other things, he advised his son to travel for a
time, until the King's anger should have somewhat cooled.
The young fellow, who was both clever and handsome, started off
whithersoever fate might lead him. He had been gone some days, when
he fell in with an old farmer, who also was on a journey to a certain
village. Finding the old man very pleasant, he asked him if he might
accompany him, professing to be on a visit to the same place. The old
farmer agreed, and they walked along together. The day was hot, and
the way was long and weary.
"Don't you think it would be pleasanter if you and I sometimes gave
each other a lift?" said the youth.
"What a fool the man is!" thought the old farmer.
Presently they passed through a field of corn ready for the sickle,
and looking like a sea of gold as it waved to and fro in the breeze.
"Is this eaten or not?" said the young man.
Not understanding his meaning, the old man replied, "I don't know."
After a little while the two travelers arrived at a big village, where
the young man gave his companion a clasp-knife, and said, "Take this,
friend, and get two horses with it; but mind and bring it back, for it
is very precious."
The old man, looking half amused and half angry, pushed back the
knife, muttering something to the effect that his friend was either a
fool himself, or else trying to play the fool with him. The young man
pretended not to notice his reply, and remained almost silent till
they reached the city, a short distance outside which was the old
farmer's house. They walked about the bazaar and went to the mosque,
but nobody saluted them or invited them to come in and rest.
"What a large cemetery!" exclaimed the young man.
"What does the man mean," thought the old farmer, "calling this
largely populated city a cemetery?"
On leaving the city their way led through a graveyard where a few
people were praying beside a tomb and distributing _chapatis_ and
_kulchas_ to passers-by, in the name of their beloved dead. They
beckoned to the two travelers and gave them as much as they would.
"What a splendid city this is!" said the young man.
"Now, the man must surely be demented!" thought the old farmer. "I
wonder what he will do next? He will be calling the land water, and
the water land; and be speaking of light where there is darkness,
and of darkness when it is light." However, he kept his thoughts to
himself.
Presently they had to wade through a stream that ran along the edge
of the cemetery. The water was rather deep, so the old farmer took
off his shoes and pajamas and crossed over; but the young man waded
through it with his shoes and pajamas on.
"Well! I never did see such a perfect fool, both in word and in deed,"
said the old man to himself.
However, he liked the fellow; and thinking that he would amuse his
wife and daughter, he invited him to come and stay at his house as
long as he had occasion to remain in the village.
"Thank you very much," the young man replied; "but let me first
inquire, if you please, whether the beam of your house is strong."
The old farmer left him in despair, and entered his house laughing.
"There is a man in yonder field," he said, after returning their
greetings. "He has come the greater part of the way with me, and I
wanted him to put up here as long as he had to stay in this village.
But the fellow is such a fool that I cannot make anything out of him.
He wants to know if the beam of this house is all right. The man must
be mad!" and saying this, he burst into a fit of laughter.
"Father," said the farmer's daughter, who was a very sharp and wise
girl, "this man, whosoever he is, is no fool, as you deem him. He only
wishes to know if you can afford to entertain him."
"Oh, of course," replied the farmer. "I see. Well, perhaps you can
help me to solve some of his other mysteries. While we were walking
together he asked whether he should carry me or I should carry him, as
he thought that would be a pleasanter mode of proceeding."
"Most assuredly," said the girl; "he meant that one of you should tell
a story to beguile the time."
"Oh yes. Well, we were passing through a corn-field, when he asked me
whether it was eaten or not."
"And didn't you know the meaning of this, father? He simply wished to
know if the man was in debt or not; because, if the owner of the field
was in debt, then the produce of the field was as good as eaten to
him; that is, it would have to go to his creditors."
"Yes, yes, yes, of course! Then, on entering a certain village, he
bade me take his clasp-knife and get two horses with it, and bring
back the knife to him."
"Are not two stout sticks as good as two horses for helping one
along on the road? He only asked you to cut a couple of sticks and be
careful not to lose his knife."
"I see," said the farmer. "While we were walking over the city we
did not see anybody that we knew, and not a soul gave us a scrap of
anything to eat, till we were passing the cemetery; but there some
people called to us and put into our hands some _chapatis_ and
_kulchas_, so my companion called the city a cemetery, and the
cemetery a city."
"This also is to be understood, father, if one thinks of the city
as the place where everything is to be obtained, and of inhospitable
people as worse than the dead. The city, though crowded with people,
was as if dead, as far as you were concerned; while, in the cemetery,
which is crowded with the dead, you were saluted by kind friends and
provided with bread."
"True, true!" said the astonished farmer. "Then, just now, when we
were crossing the stream, he waded through it without taking off his
shoes and pajamas."
"I admire his wisdom," replied the girl. "I have often thought how
stupid people were to venture into that swiftly flowing stream and
over those sharp stones with bare feet. The slightest stumble and they
would fall, and be wetted from head to foot. This friend of yours is a
most wise man. I should like to see him and speak to him."
"Very well," said the farmer; "I will go and find him, and bring him
in."
"Tell him, father, that our beams are strong enough, and then he will
come in. I'll send on ahead a present to the man, to show him that we
can afford to have him for our guest."
Accordingly she called a servant and sent him to the young man with
a present of a basin of _ghee_, twelve _chapatis_, and a jar of milk,
and the following message: "O friend, the moon is full; twelve months
make a year, and the sea is overflowing with water."
Half-way the bearer of this present and message met his little son,
who, seeing what was in the basket, begged his father to give him some
of the food. His father foolishly complied. Presently he saw the young
man, and gave him the rest of the present and the message.
"Give your mistress my salaam," he replied, "and tell her that the
moon is new, and that I can find only eleven months in the year, and
the sea is by no means full."
Not understanding the meaning of these words, the servant repeated
them word for word, as he had heard them, to his mistress; and thus
his theft was discovered, and he was severely punished. After a little
while the young man appeared with the old farmer. Great attention was
shown to him, and he was treated in every way as if he were the son of
a great man, although his humble host knew nothing of his origin. At
length he told them everything--about the laughing of the fish, his
father's threatened execution, and his own banishment--and asked their
advice as to what he should do.
"The laughing of the fish," said the girl, "which seems to have been
the cause of all this trouble, indicates that there is a man in the
palace who is plotting against the King's life."
"Joy, joy!" exclaimed the vizier's son. "There is yet time for me to
return and save my father from an ignominious and unjust death, and
the King from danger."
The following day he hastened back to his own country, taking with him
the farmer's daughter. Immediately on arrival he ran to the palace and
informed his father of what he had heard. The poor vizier, now almost
dead from the expectation of death, was at once carried to the King,
to whom he repeated the news that his son had just brought.
"Never!" said the King.
"But it must be so, your Majesty," replied the vizier; "and in order
to prove the truth of what I have heard, I pray you to call together
all the maids in your palace and order them to jump over a pit, which
must be dug. We'll soon find out whether there is any man there."
The King had the pit dug, and commanded all the maids belonging to
the palace to try to jump over it. All of them tried, but only one
succeeded. That one was found to be a man!
Thus was the Queen satisfied, and the faithful old vizier saved.
Afterward, as soon as could be, the vizier's son married the old
farmer's daughter; and a most happy marriage it was.
MUCHIE LAL
ADAPTED BY M. FRERE
Once upon a time there were a Rajah and Ranee who had no children.
Long had they wished and prayed that the gods would send them a son,
but it was all in vain--their prayers were not granted. One day a
number of fish were brought into the royal kitchen to be cooked for
the Rajah's dinner, and amongst them was one little fish that was not
dead, but all the rest were dead. One of the palace maid-servants,
seeing this, took the little fish and put him in a basin of water.
Shortly afterward the Ranee saw him, and thinking him very pretty,
kept him as a pet; and because she had no children she lavished all
her affection on the fish and loved him as a son; and the people
called him Muchie Rajah (the Fish Prince).
In a little while Muchie Rajah had grown too long to live in the small
basin, so they put him into a larger one, and then (when he grew too
long for that) into a big tub. In time, however, Muchie Rajah became
too large for even the big tub to hold him; so the Ranee had a tank
made for him, in which he lived very happily, and twice a day she fed
him with boiled rice. Now, though the people fancied Muchie Rajah was
only a fish, this was not the case. He was, in truth, a young Rajah
who had angered the gods, and been by them turned into a fish and
thrown into the river as a punishment.
One morning, when the Ranee brought him his daily meal of boiled rice,
Muchie Rajah called out to her and said, "Queen Mother, Queen Mother,
I am so lonely here all by myself! Cannot you get me a wife?" The
Ranee promised to try, and sent messengers to all the people she knew,
to ask if they would allow one of their children to marry her son, the
Fish Prince. But they all answered: "We cannot give one of our dear
little daughters to be devoured by a great fish, even though he is the
Muchie Rajah and so high in your Majesty's favor."
At news of this the Ranee did not know what to do. She was so
foolishly fond of Muchie Rajah, however, that she resolved to get him
a wife at any cost. Again she sent out messengers, but this time she
gave them a great bag containing a lac of gold mohurs, and said to
them: "Go into every land until you find a wife for my Muchie Rajah,
and to whoever will give you a child to be the Muchie Ranee you shall
give this bag of gold mohurs." The messengers started on their search,
but for some time they were unsuccessful; not even the beggars were to
be tempted to sell their children, fearing the great fish would devour
them. At last one day the messengers came to a village where there
lived a Fakeer, who had lost his first wife and married again. His
first wife had had one little daughter, and his second wife also had
a daughter. As it happened, the Fakeer's second wife hated her little
stepdaughter, always gave her the hardest work to do and the least
food to eat, and tried by every means in her power to get her out of
the way, in order that the child might not rival her own daughter.
When she heard of the errand on which the messengers had come, she
sent for them when the Fakeer was out, and said to them: "Give me the
bag of gold mohurs, and you shall take my little daughter to marry the
Muchie Rajah." ("For," she thought to herself, "the great fish will
certainly eat the girl, and she will thus trouble us no more.") Then,
turning to her stepdaughter, she said: "Go down to the river and wash
your _saree_, that you may be fit to go with these people, who will
take you to the Ranee's court." At these words the poor girl went down
to the river very sorrowful, for she saw no hope of escape, as her
father was from home. As she knelt by the river-side, washing her
_saree_ and crying bitterly, some of her tears fell into the hole of
an old Seven-headed Cobra, who lived on the river-bank. This Cobra was
a very wise animal, and seeing the maiden, he put his head out of his
hole, and said to her: "Little girl, why do you cry?" "Oh, sir,"
she answered, "I am very unhappy; for my father is from home, and my
stepmother has sold me to the Ranee's people to be the wife of the
Muchie Rajah, that great fish, and I know he will eat me up." "Do
not be afraid, my daughter," said the Cobra; "but take with you these
three stones and tie them up in the corner of your _saree_;" and so
saying, he gave her three little round pebbles. "The Muchie Rajah,
whose wife you are to be, is not really a fish, but a Rajah who has
been enchanted. Your home will be a little room which the Ranee has
had built in the tank wall. When you are taken there, wait and be sure
you don't go to sleep, or the Muchie Rajah will certainly come and
eat you up. But as you hear him coming rushing through the water, be
prepared, and as soon as you see him, throw this first stone at him;
he will then sink to the bottom of the tank. The second time he comes,
throw the second stone, when the same thing will happen. The third
time he comes, throw this third stone, and he will immediately resume
his human shape." So saying, the old Cobra dived down again into his
hole. The Fakeer's daughter took the stones and determined to do as
the Cobra had told her, though she hardly believed it would have the
desired effect.
When she reached the palace the Ranee spoke kindly to her, and said to
the messengers: "You have done your errand well; this is a dear little
girl." Then she ordered that she should be let down the side of the
tank in a basket to a little room which had been prepared for her.
When the Fakeer's daughter got there, she thought she had never seen
such a pretty place in her life (for the Ranee had caused the little
room to be very nicely decorated for the wife of her favorite); and
she would have felt very happy away from her cruel stepmother and all
the hard work she had been made to do, had it not been for the dark
water that lay black and unfathomable below the door and the fear of
the terrible Muchie Rajah.
After waiting some time she heard a rushing sound, and little waves
came dashing against the threshold; faster they came and faster, and
the noise got louder and louder, until she saw a great fish's head
above the water--Muchie Rajah was coming toward her open-mouthed. The
Fakeer's daughter seized one of the stones that the Cobra had given
her and threw it at him, and down he sank to the bottom of the tank;
a second time he rose and came toward her, and she threw the second
stone at him, and he again sank down; a third time he came more
fiercely than before, when, seizing a third stone, she threw it with
all her force. No sooner did it touch him than the spell was broken,
and there, instead of a fish, stood a handsome young Prince. The poor
little Fakeer's daughter was so startled that she began to cry. But
the Prince said to her: "Pretty maiden, do not be frightened. You have
rescued me from a horrible thraldom, and I can never thank you enough;
but if you will be the Muchie Ranee, we will be married to-morrow."
Then he sat down on the doorstep, thinking over his strange fate and
watching for the dawn.
Next morning early several inquisitive people came to see if the
Muchie Rajah had eaten up his poor little wife, as they feared he
would; what was their astonishment, on looking over the tank wall,
to see, not the Muchie Rajah, but a magnificent Prince! The news soon
spread to the palace. Down came the Rajah, down came the Ranee, down
came all their attendants, and dragged Muchie Rajah and the Fakeer's
daughter up the side of the tank in a basket; and when they heard
their story there were great and unparalleled rejoicings. The Ranee
said, "So I have indeed found a son at last!" And the people were so
delighted, so happy and so proud of the new Prince and Princess, that
they covered all their path with damask from the tank to the palace,
and cried to their fellows, "Come and see our new Prince and Princess!
Were ever any so divinely beautiful? Come see a right royal couple,--a
pair of mortals like the gods!" And when they reached the palace the
prince was married to the Fakeer's daughter.
There they lived very happily for some time. The Muchie Ranee's
stepmother, hearing what had happened, came often to see her
stepdaughter, and pretended to be delighted at her good fortune; and
the Ranee was so good that she quite forgave all her stepmother's
former cruelty, and always received her very kindly. At last, one day,
the Muchie Ranee said to her husband, "It is a weary while since I saw
my father. If you will give me leave, I should much like to visit my
native village and see him again." "Very well," he replied, "you may
go. But do not stay away long; for there can be no happiness for me
till you return." So she went, and her father was delighted to see
her; but her stepmother, though she pretended to be very kind, was in
reality only glad to think she had got the Ranee into her power, and
determined, if possible, never to allow her to return to the palace
again. One day, therefore, she said to her own daughter, "It is hard
that your stepsister should have become Ranee of all the land instead
of being eaten up by the great fish, while we gained no more than a
lac of gold mohurs. Do now as I bid you, that you may become Ranee in
her stead." She then went on to instruct her that she must invite the
Ranee down to the river-bank, and there beg her to let her try on her
jewels, and while putting them on give her a push and drown her in the
river.
The girl consented, and standing by the river-bank, said to her
stepsister, "Sister, may I try on your jewels?--how pretty they are!"
"Yes," said the Ranee, "and we shall be able to see in the river how
they look." So, undoing her necklaces, she clasped them round the
other's neck. But while she was doing so her stepsister gave her a
push, and she fell backward into the water. The girl watched to
see that the body did not rise, and then, running back, said to her
mother, "Mother, here are all the jewels, and she will trouble us no
more." But it happened that just when her stepsister pushed the Ranee
into the river her old friend the Seven-headed Cobra chanced to be
swimming across it, and seeing the little Ranee likely to be drowned,
he carried her on his back until he reached his hole, into which he
took her safely. Now this hole, in which the Cobra and his wife and
all his little ones lived, had two entrances,--the one under the water
and leading to the river, and the other above water, leading out into
the open fields. To this upper end of his hole the Cobra took the
Muchie Ranee, where he and his wife took care of her; and there she
lived with them for some time. Meanwhile, the wicked Fakeer's wife,
having dressed up her own daughter in all the Ranee's jewels, took her
to the palace, and said to the Muchie Rajah, "See, I have brought your
wife, my dear daughter, back safe and well." The Rajah looked at her,
and thought, "This does not look like my wife." However, the room was
dark and the girl was cleverly disguised, and he thought he might be
mistaken. Next day he said again: "My wife must be sadly changed or
this cannot be she, for she was always bright and cheerful. She had
pretty loving ways and merry words, while this woman never opens
her lips." Still, he did not like to seem to mistrust his wife, and
comforted himself by saying, "Perhaps she is tired with the long
journey." On the third day, however, he could bear the uncertainty
no longer, and tearing off her jewels, saw, not the face of his own
little wife, but another woman. Then he was very angry and turned her
out of doors, saying, "Begone; since you are but the wretched tool of
others, I spare your life." But of the Fakeer's wife he said to his
guards, "Fetch that woman here instantly; for unless she can tell me
where my wife is, I will have her hanged." It chanced, however, that
the Fakeer's wife had heard of the Muchie Rajah having turned her
daughter out of doors; so, fearing his anger, she hid herself, and was
not to be found.
Meantime, the Muchie Ranee, not knowing how to get home, continued to
live in the great Seven-headed Cobra's hole, and he and his wife and
all his family were very kind to her, and loved her as if she had been
one of them; and there her little son was born, and she called him
Muchie Lal, after the Muchie Rajah, his father. Muchie Lal was a
lovely child, merry and brave, and his playmates all day long were the
young Cobras. When he was about three years old a bangle-seller came
by that way, and the Muchie Ranee bought some bangles from him and put
them on her boy's wrists and ankles; but by the next day, in playing,
he had broke them all. Then, seeing the bangle-seller, the Ranee
called him again and bought some more, and so on every day until the
bangle-seller got quite rich from selling so many bangles for the
Muchie Lal; for the Cobra's hole was full of treasure, and he gave the
Muchie Ranee as much money to spend every day as she liked. There was
nothing she wished for he did not give her, only he would not let her
try to get home to her husband, which she wished more than all.
When she asked him he would say: "No, I will not let you go. If your
husband comes here and fetches you, it is well; but I will not allow
you to wander in search of him through the land alone."
And so she was obliged to stay where she was.