From the folklore of Kashmir
People tell of a king who had seven wives that were all childless. When he married the first he thought that she would certainly bear him a son. He hoped the same of the second, the third, and the others; but no son was born to gladden his days and to sit on the throne after him. This was a terrible overwhelming grief to him.
One day he was walking in a neighbouring wood and bemoaning his lot, when he saw a most beautiful fairy.
“Where are you going to?” she asked.
“I am very miserable,” he replied. “Although I have seven wives, I have no son to call my own and to make my heir. I came to this wood to-day. Hoping to meet some holy man, who would intercede for me.”
“And do you expect to find such a person in this lonely place?” she asked, laughing. “Only I live here. But I can help you. What will you give me if I grant you the desire of your heart?”
“Give me a son and you shall have half of my country.”
“I will take none of your gold or your country. Marry me, and you shall have a son and heir.”
The King agreed, took the fairy to his palace, and very quickly made her his eighth wife.
A short while afterwards all the other wives of the king became pregnant. However, the king’s joy was not for long. The beautiful fairy whom he had married was none other than a rakshasi, who had appeared to His Majesty as a fairy in order to deceive him and work mischief in the palace. Every night, when the rest of the royal household were fast asleep, she arose, and going to the stables and outhouses, ate an elephant, or two or three horses, or some sheep, or a camel; and then having satisfied her bloodthirsty appetite, returned to her room, and came forth in the morning as if nothing had happened. At first the king’s servants feared to inform him of these things; but when they found that animals were being taken every night, they were obliged to go to him. Strict orders were at once given for the protection of the palace buildings, and guards were appointed to every room; but it was all in vain. Day by day the animals disappeared, and nobody could tell how.
One night, while the king was pacing his room puzzled to know what to do, the supposed fairy, his wife, said, “What will you give me if I discover the thief?”
“Anything – everything,” the king replied.
“Very well. Rest, and by the morning I will show you the cause of these things.”
His Majesty was soon sound asleep, and the wicked queen left the room. She went to the sheep-pens, and taking one of the sheep, killed it, and filled an earthen vessel with its blood. Then she returned to the palace, and went to the several rooms of the other wives of the king, and stained their mouths and clothes with the blood that she had brought. Afterwards she went and lay down in the room while the king was still sleeping. As soon as the day dawned she woke him, and said to him, “I find that your other wives have taken and eaten the animals. They are not human beings; they are rakshasis. If you wish to preserve your life, you will beware of them. Go and see if I am not speaking the truth.
The king did so, and when he saw the blood-stained mouths and garments of his other wives he was terribly enraged. He ordered that their eyes should be put out, and that they should be thrown into a big dry well which was outside the city; and this was done.
The very next day one of them gave birth to a son, who was eaten by them for food. The day after that another had a son, and he was likewise eaten. On the third day another was confined; on the fourth day another; on the fifth day another; and on the sixth day another: each had a son who was eaten up in his turn. The seventh wife, whose time had not arrived, did not eat her portions of the other wives’ children, but kept them till her own son was born, when she begged them not to kill him, and to take the portions which they had given her instead. Thus this child was spared, and through him in the future the lives of the seven queens were miraculously preserved.
The baby grew and became a strong and beautiful boy. When he was six years old the seven women thought they would try to show him a little of the outer world. But how were they to do this? The well was deep, and its sides were perpendicular. At last they thought of standing on each other’s heads; and the one who stood on the top of all took the boy and put him on the bank at the well’s mouth. Away the little fellow ran to the palace, entered the king’s kitchen, and begged for some food. He got a lot of scraps, of which he ate a little, and carried the rest tot eh well for his mother and the king’s other wives.
This continued for some time, when one morning the cook asked him to stay and prepare some dishes for the king, saying that he mother had just died, and he was obliged to go and arrange for the cremation of the body. The boy promised to do his best, and the cook left. That day the king was especially pleased with his meals. Everything was rightly cooked, nicely flavoured, and well served up. In the evening the cook returned. The king sent for him, and complimenting him on the exceedingly good food he had prepared that day, ordered him always to cook as well in the future. The cook honestly confessed that he had been absent the greater part of the day owning to his mother’s death, and that a boy whom he had hired for the occasion had cooked the food. When he heard this the king was much surprised, and I commanded the cook to give the boy regular employment in the kitchen. Thenceforth there was a great difference in the way that the king’s meals were served up, and His Majesty was more and more pleased with the boy, and constantly gave him presents. All these presents and all the good that the boy could gather he took daily to the well for his mother and the king’s other wives.
On the way to the well he had every day to pass a faqir, who always blessed him and asked for alms, and generally received something. In this way some years had passed, and the boy had developed into a still more beautiful youth, when by chance one day the wicked queen saw him. Struck with his beauty, she asked him who he was and whence he came. Nothing doubting, and not knowing the real character of the queen, he told her everything about himself and his mother, and the other women; and from that hour the queen plotted against his life. She feigned sickness, and calling in a hakim, bribed him to persuade the king that she was very ill, and that nothing except the milk of a tigress would cure her.
“My beloved, what is this I hear? Said the king when he went to see his wife in the evening. “The hakim says that you are ill, and that the milk of a tigress is required. But how can we get it? Who is there that will dare attempt this?”
“The lad who serves here as cook. He is brave and faithful, and will do anything for you out of gratitude for all that you have done for him. Besides him I know of no other whom you could send.”
“I will send for him and see.”
The lad readily promised, and next day started on his perilous journey. On the way he passed his friend the faqir, who said to him, “Whither are you going?” He told him of the king’s order, and how desirous he was of pleasing His Majesty, who had been so kind to him. “Don’t go,” said the faqir. “Who are you to dare to presume to do such a thing?” But the lad was resolute and valued not his life in the matter. Then said the faqir, “If you will not be dissuaded, follow my advice and you will succeed and be preserved. When you meet a tigress aim an arrow at one of her teats. The arrow will strike her, and the tigress will speak and ask you why you shot her. Then you must say that you did not intend to kill her, but simply thought that she would be glad if she could feed her cubs more quickly than before, and therefore pierced a hole in her teats through which the milk would flow easily. You must also say that you pitied her cubs, who looked very weak and sickly, as though they required more nourishment.” Then, blessing him, the faqir sent him on his journey.
Thus encouraged, the lad walked on with a glad heart. He soon saw a tigress with cubs, aimed an arrow at one of her teats, and struck it. When the tigress angrily asked him to explain his action, he replied as the faqir had instructed him, and added that the queen was seriously ill, and was in need of tigress’ milk. “The queen!” said the tigress. “Do not you know that she is a rakshasi? Heep her at a distance, lest she kill and eat you!”
“I fear no harm,” said the lad. “Her Majesty entertains no enmity against me.”
“Very well. I will certainly give you some of my milk, but beware of the queen. Look here,” said the tigress, taking hi, to an immense block of rock that had separated from the hill; “I will let a drop of my milk fall on this rock.” She did so, and the rock split into a million pieces! “You see the power of my milk. Well, if the queen were to drink the whole of what I have just given you, it would not have the slightest effect on her. She is a rakshasi, and cannot be harmed by such things as this. However, if you will not believe me, go and see for yourself.
The lad returned and gave the milk to the king, who took it to his wife; and she drank the whole of it, and professed to have been cured. The king was much pleased with the boy, and advanced him to a higher position among the servants of the palace; but the queen was determined to have him killed, and debated in her mind as to how she could accomplish this without offending the king. After some days she again pretended to be ill, and calling the king, said to him, “I am getting ill again, but do not be anxious about me. My grandfather, who lives in the jungle whence the tigress’ milk was brought, has a special medicine that i think would cure me, if you could please send for it. The lad that fetched the milk might go.” Accordingly the lad went. The way led past the faqir, who again said to him, “Whither are you going?” and the lad told him.
“Don’t go,” said he; “this man is a rakshasa, and will certainly kill you.” But the lad was determined as before. “You will go? Then go, but attend to my advice. When you see the rakshasa call him ‘grandfather.’ He will ask you to scratch his back, which you must do – and do it very roughly.”
The lad promised, and went. The jungle was big and dense, and he thought that he would never reach the rakshasa’s house. At last he saw him, and cried out, “O my grandfather, I, your daughter’s son, have come to say that my mother is ill, and cannot recover till she takes some medicine, which she says you have, and has sent me for it.” “All right,” replied the rakshasa; I will give it you; but first come and scratch my back – it’s itching terribly.” The rakshasa had lied, for his back did not itch. He only wanted to see whether the lad was the true son of a rakshasa or not. When the lad dug his nails into the old rakshasa’s flesh, as though he wanted to scratch off some of it, the rakshasa bade him desist, and giving him the medicine, let him depart. On reaching the palace the lad gave the medicine to the king, who at once took it to his wife and cured her again. The king was now more than ever pleased with the lad, and gave him large presents, and in other ways favoured him.
The wicked queen was now put to her wits’ end to know what to do with such a lad. He had escaped from the claws of the tigress and from the clutches of her grandfather – the gods only knew how! What could she do to him? Finally she determined to send him to her grandmother, a wretched old rakshasi that lived in a house in the wood not far from her grandfather’s place. “He will not come back any more,” said the wicked queen to herself; and so she said to the king, “I have a very valuable comb at home, and I should like to have it brought here, if you will please send the boy for it. Let me know when he starts, and I will give him a letter for my grandmother.” The king complied, and the lad started, as usual passing by the faqir’s place, and telling him where he was going. He also showed him the letter that the queen had given him.
“Let me read its contents,” said the faqir. And when he had read it he said, “Are you deliberately going to be killed? This letter is an order for your death. Listen to it: ‘The bearer of this letter is my bitter enemy. I shall not be able to accomplish anything as long as he is alive. Slay him as soon as he reaches you, and let me not hear of him any more.’ ” The boy trembled as he heard these terrible words, but he would not break his promise to the king, and was resolved to fulfil His Majesty’s wishes though it should cost him his life. So the faqir destroyed the queen’s letter, and wrote another after this manner: “This is my son. When he reaches you attend to his needs, and show him all kindness.” Giving it to the lad, he said, “Call the woman ‘grandmother,’ and fear nothing.”
The lad walked on and on till he reached the rakshasi’s house, where he called the rakshasi, “grandmother,” as the faqir had advised him, and gave her the letter. On reading it she clasped the lad in her arms and kissed him, and inquired much about her granddaughter and her royal husband. Every attention was shown the lad, and every delicious thing that the old rakshasi could think of was provided for him. She also gave him many things, amongst others the following: A jar of soap, which when dropped on the ground became a great and lofty mountain; a jar full of needles, which if let fall became a hill bristling with large needles; a jar full of water, which if poured out became an expanse of water as large as a sea. She also showed him the following things, and explained their meaning: Seven fine cocks, a spinning-wheel, a pigeon, a starling, and some medicine.
“These seven cocks,” she said, “contain the lives of your seven uncles, who are away for a few days. Only as long as the cocks live can your uncles hope to live; no power can hurt them as long as the seven cocks are safe and sound. The spinning-wheel contains my life; if it is broken, I too shall be broken, and must die; but otherwise I shall live on for ever. The pigeon contains you grandfather’s life, and the starling your mother’s; as long as these live, nothing can harm your grandfather or your mother. And the medicine has this quality – it can give sight to the blind.”
The lad thanked the old rakshasi for all that she had given him and shown him, and lay down to sleep. In the morning, when the rakshasi went to bathe in the river, he took the seven cocks and the pigeon and killed them, and dashed the spinning-wheel on the ground, so that it was broken to pieces. Immediately the old rakshasa and the rakshasi and their seven sons perished. Then, having secured the starling in a cage, he took it, and the precious medicine for restoring the sight, and started for the king’s palace. He stopped on the way to give the eye-medicine to his mother and the other women, who were still in the well; and their sight immediately returned. They all clambered out of the well, and accompanied the lad to the palace, where he asked them to wait in one of the rooms while he went and prepared the king for their coming.
“O King,” he said, “I have many secrets to reveal. I pray you will hear me. Your wife is a rakshasi, and plots against my life, knowing that I am the son of one of the wives whom at her instigation you caused to be deprived of their sight and thrown into a well. She fears that somehow I shall become heir to the throne, and therefore wishes my speedy death. I have slain her father and mother and seven brothers, and now I will slay her. Her life is in this starling.” Saying this, he suffocated the bird, and the wicked queen immediately died. “Now come with me,” said the boy, “and behold, O king, your true wives. There were seven sons born to your house, but six of them were slain to satisfy the cravings of hunger. I only am left alive.”
“Oh! What have I done!” cried the king. “I have been deceived.” And he wept bitterly.
Henceforth the king’s only son governed the country, and by virtue of the charmed jars of soap, needles, and water that the rakshasi had given him, was able to conquer all the surrounding countries. The old king spent the rest of his days with his seven wives in peace and happiness.
Sources:
Folk-Tales of Kashmir, J Hinton Knowles, 1893
Kotharian Lightning 