From the Folklore of Kashmir
As quickly as possible Shabrang started for Kashmir. On arrival the first thing he did was to make friends with the king’s doorkeeper. This friendship increased, until the doorkeeper liked Shabrang so much, that he would do anything for him. One day he asked him whether he wished for employment in the state, and how he would like to serve in the king’s palace. Shabrang thanked him, and replied that he should be very happy to undertake some definite work. And so the doorkeeper introduced his friend to the king, and spoke most eloquently of his skill and wisdom and general fitness for any important work that His Majesty might be pleased to grant him. The king was satisfied with Shabrang’s appearance and manner and speech, and at once appointed him one of the royal attendants, in which position Shabrang quickly prospered, and became most popular with the king and every one.
After a time he thought he would put to the test the training which he had received from the master-thief. So every alternate night, and sometimes every night, he went on stealing expeditions. He stole here and there about the city, wherever he found opportunity, and hid all the ill-gotten thing in a pit in a field. However, this did not interfere with his regular work. Every morning he was always most punctual at his post.
By-and-by with so many people losing their money and valuables, and no traces of the thief being discovered, a public petition was got ready and presented to the king, praying him to use all endeavours for the discovery and punishment of the thief.
His Majesty was much grieved to hear this news. He called the deputy-inspector, and severely upbraiding him for the inefficient state of the police, ordered him, on pain of the royal displeasure, to find the offender. The deputy-inspector said that he was very sorry, and promised to do all he possibly could.
That night he made special efforts for the capture of the thief. Policemen were stationed in every street and lane, and were given strict orders to watch; the deputy-inspector, also, spent the night walking about. Notwithstanding all these arrangements Shabrang went to three or four places, stole as much as he had a mind to, hid what he had stolen in the pit int eh field, and then returned to the palace.
The following day the people belonging to these three or four houses went to the king and complained that they had lost certain goods during the night. The king was much enraged, When the deputy-inspector saw His Majesty’s great anger, he fell down on his knees and begged for mercy and justice.
“Be pleased to listen, O king, to your servant’s words. I and all the police spent the whole night on patrol. Not one of us has slept for a moment. Every street and every corner of the city have been thoroughly guarded. How, then, can these things have happened?”
The king was much astonished. “Perhaps,” said he, “the people have a grudge against you, or perhaps some of your men are thieves; or it may be that some servants in the different houses have arranged among themselves to do this thing. Howsoever it may be, I expect you to discover the offenders, and to bring them before me; and I give you a full week for this business.”
During these seven days and nights the deputy-inspector tried all manner of means to get some clue of the thief. He disguised himself in various dresses; and he had several of his men disguised also; he offered great bribes for any information; he promised the thief or thieves the royal pardon if they would confess and desist; and he advertised in all places that the State would honour and protect the man who should discover the thief, so that no person might fear to reveal the matter. But all was in vain. The thief was not discovered, although he was stealing all this time, and even more than before. These extra measures for his capture put Shabrang rather on his mettle, and excited him to dare yet greater things.
The city was much disturbed. Everybody, from the king himself down to the most menial subject, was in constant fear of being robbed. By day and by night, although every one kept a most careful watch over his property, yet nobody felt safe.
“What can be done?” inquired the deputy-inspector on the evening of the seventh day. “No person can do more than has already been done.”
“True,” replied the king; “but take you the army also, and order them as you will.”
So on the seventh night soldiers as well as the police were posted at near distances from one another all over the city, and ordered to watch as for their own lives. The deputy-inspector also walked about the whole night supervising matters. In the midst of his peregrinations he saw a figure moving stealthily along in a garden by the river-side. “A thief, a thief!” he shouted, and rushed up to it.
“Nay, nay,” was the reply; “I am a poor gardener’s wife, and have come hither to draw water.”
“Strange time to fetch water,” said the deputy-inspector. “Why did you not get it before?”
“I was too busy,” was the reply.
Then said the deputy-inspector, “Have you seen or heard anything of the thief?”
“Yes, yes; but I was afraid to give any alarm, lest the man should strike me. He has just been along here and taken a lot of my hak. If you can wait a little you may catch him, as he is most likely to come by here again. He came from that quarter, and he has gone over there.”
“Good news, good news, good news!” said the deputy-inspector; “but how can I catch him? There is not a bush here to hide one; and seeing me, he will run off.”
Put on my old pheran, and pretend you are drawing water. He is almost certain to come and take the rest of my hak, and then you can go up to him and seize him.”
Now the deputy-inspector did not like the idea of “going up” to a man of that character. However, he took the pheran, and asked to be shown how to draw water. The gardener’s wife tied him to the weighted end of the beam, which acted as a lever for drawing up the water, and then told him to pull the string that was attached to the other end. He did so, and as will be supposed, was carried up some twenty feet into the air. Then the gardener’s wife fastened the down end of the beam to a peg in the ground, and taking up his clothes, left him.
“Oh, oh!” exclaimed the deputy-inspector.
“Be quiet,” said the gardener’s wife on going away, “or the thief will hear you and not come this way. Keep quiet. You need not fear. The beam will not come down of itself. When the thief is coming I will let you down, and then you can catch him.”
Within half an hour Shabrang (the gardener’s wife) was sleeping in his bed. Within half an hour, also, there being no sign of a second visit from the thief that night, the deputy-inspector asked to be let down. But he received no answer.
“Oh, let me down!” he shouted, thinking that the gardener’s wife had fallen asleep; “let me down, for the thief is not coming here again to-night. Let me down; the wind is blowing cold. What am I doing here, while the thief is probably stealing in another place?” Still no answer.
Then he shouted again, and threatened the gardener’s wife with heavy punishment, pretending that he knew her name and her house. But still there was no reply.
“Alas!” he cried at last, “what trickery is this? The wife of the gardener can be no other than the thief, and the blackguard has fastened me up here!”
Early the next morning other people complained to the king that their property had been stolen. His Majesty sent for the deputy-inspector to know what he had done during the night; but the deputy-inspector was not at home, and had not been to his house since the previous evening. So the messenger went all over the city hunting for him. At length he came by the garden where the deputy-inspector had unfortunately entered, and there found the poor wretched man, dressed in a woman’s pheran, sitting across the raised end of a well-beam, and almost frozen with the cold. Lest the king should not believe him, he begged His Majesty to come and see for himself what had happened to the deputy-inspector. The king went, and when he saw the man he could not refrain from laughing – his position was so ridiculous.
As soon as the deputy-inspector’s feet touched the ground, he explained to the king how it all had happened, and entreated him to take away his life, as he did not care to live.
“What shall we do?” inquired the king of his chief vazir. “A great and terrible calamity will happen to our country if it is not soon rid of this thief. How can it be averted? The people will not suffer the loss of their goods much longer. Rather than live in this dreadful uncertainty they will quite the country.”
“This cannot and shall not be,” replied the vazir. “If Your Majesty will allow me, I will go this night and search for the disturber of our peace.”
The kign assented. Just as it was beginning to get dark the wazir mounted his horse and set out. Shabrang, the thief, also went out, and in a little while appeared as a poor musalmani, wearing a ragged pheran and a greasy red kasaba, over which a dirty puts was carelessly thrown. He sat at the door of a mud hut, and ground maize by the dim light of a little oil lamp, that was fixed in the wall just behind. It came to pass, as Shabrang quite expected, that the vazir arrived at the place, and attracted by the sound of the grinding, drew up his horse, and asked who was there.
“An old woman,” was the answer. “I am grinding maize;” and then, as if observing for the first time that the rider was the wazir, she said in a most piteous tone, “Oh, sir, if you could catch the thief! A man has just been here and beat me, and taken away nearly all the maize which I had ground for my dinner.”
“A thief – what! – where! Tell me who it is. In what direction has he gone?”
“There, down there,” pointing to the bottom of the hill.
The wazir rode off and explored the neighbourhood, but found not a trace of the thief, and therefore cam back again to the old woman to inquire further.
“I have told you everything,” she replied; “but what is the good? Dressed as you are, and riding on a grand horse, you will never catch the thief. Will you listen to the advice of an old woman? Change places with me. Change clothes with me. You stay here, and I will go quietly in search of the fellow. You remain here and grind some maize. He may come by again, and then you can catch him.”
The plan seemed good, and so the wazir agreed.
Presently Shabang, dressed as a grand wazir, and mounted on a most beautiful horse, might have been seen riding through the bazar of the city. An hour or so after he might have been seen talking with some other of the king’s attendants in the court of the palace.
The next morning several other people came weeping and complaining to the king about the loss of their property. Some had lost money, others jewels, others grain.
“Sorrows, a hundred sorrows! What shall we do? Call the wazir,” cried the king.
A messenger was at once dispatched to the wazir’s house, where it was heard that the wzair’s horse had arrived without its rider; and, consequently, the whole family were almost made with anxiety, supposing that the wazir had met with the thief and had been slain by him.
When His Majesty heard this he was terribly grieved.
Ordering his horse, he bade some of his attendants – Shabrang among the number – to accompany him at once in search of the wazir. “It cannot be,” he added, “that one so wise and faithful should perish in this way.” In an hour or so, as the company were passing the little mud hut, they found the missing wazir, dressed in all the dirty, greasy rags of a poor musalmani, and weeping most pitifully.
“Your Majesty, please go, please go,” he cried. “Look not on my shame. I can never lift up my face in this country again!”
“Not so,” said the king. “Courage! We shall yet find the man who has thus disturbed out country and disgraced our wazir.” His Majesty then ordered the wazir to be taken to his house.
For the next night the thanadar (chief magistrate) offered to super-intend arrangements, and notwithstanding his subordinate position, was accepted by the king.
That night Shabrang disguised himself as the wazir’s daughter, and waited in the wazir’s garden, hoping that the thanadar would reach the place some time during the early part of the night. He was not disappointed. Just before khuphtan the thanadar passed that way, and, seeing somebody walking about the garden, he inquired who it was.
“The wazir’s daughter,” was the answer. “What are you looking for?”
“The thief,” said the thanadar. Yesterday he disgraced your father, and before that the deputy-inspector; and now to-night I am trying my fortune.”
“Well, what would you do with the man if you got him?”
“I’d put him in the prison in chains, and flog him every day as hard as the blackguard could bear it.”
“Oh, let me see the prison!” said the girl. “I’ve often wished to see it, but my father never would let me. Now is my opportunity. It is not far. I should so like to see the place!”
“You must wait for another time. I haven’t leisure now. And besides, your father would be angry if he knew that you were outside the garden at this late hour.”
“He will never know,” replied the girl. “He is ill. He was brought home ill yesterday. Make haste. I am coming!”
Thus constrained, the thanadar led the way to the prison. Only one policeman was on guard there, as all the rest had been ordered out to find the thief. At the girl’s request the thanadar showed her everything. He even put on the chains, and went within the cell and showed her how the thief would fare if he were caught and out in the prison. Then Shabang (the wazir’s duaghter) gave the thanadar a push and sent him toppling, and closed the door of the cell; and taking off the girl’s dress, he put on the thanadar’s turban and fastened the thanadar’s belt round his waist, and went straight to the thanadar’s house. Speaking hurriedly to the thanadar’s wife, he said, “Give me some money and jewels. I must leave the city and seek a living elsewhere. I have failed to find the thief, and therefore the king will no more favour me. Let me have these things and go. I will send you word where I am, and how and when you are to come to me.”
The woman immediately gave him the jewels and several hundred rupees in cash. Shabrang then kissed her and went.
The following morning the king sent for the thanadar, and not finding him at home, caused search to be made for him throughout the city. Great was His Majesty’s astonishment when he heard that the thanadar had been put into chains and placed within the innermost prison, and that the thief had visited the thanadar’s house and obtained all the family jewels and the greater part of their savings. He called an assembly of all the wise men in his country to confer with them as to what should be done under the present distress. “You see,” he said, “that it is useless to try and catch the thief. We may as well try to lay hold of the wind. The whole of the police and the greater part of the army have been watching for several days. Everybody has been on the alert. For the last week several in each house have always been awake. Greater precaution there could not have been, and yet the people are robbed. Our wazir and deputy-inspector and one of our thanadars have been made laughing-stocks int he city. What can we do? If any person can help us, or if the thief himself will confess and promise to eschew his evil ways, we will give him our daughter in marriage and the half of our country.”
On this Shabrang stepped forward and asked His Majesty’s permission to speak. “O king, you have promised before all the great and wise in your land to give your daughter and half of your country to the thief if he will only confess and desist from stealing.”
“Yes,” said His Majesty.
“Then know you, O king, that I am the thief; and to prove my words, let Your Majesty be pleased to command all those who have lost any money or property of any kind during the last few weeks to attend at a certain place outside the city on the morrow, and I will give them back their goods.”
The whole assembly was electrified with astonishment. People stared at Shabrang as though he were a god. Some thought that he was mad and knew not what he said. At length, after some moments’ dead pause, the king spoke and said, “it is well; it shall be so. Shabrang, attend me.”
The king left with Shabrang, and the assembly was dismissed. In private His Majesty repeated his promise, and said that arrangements for the wedding and for the handing over of half of the country would be made as soon as possible.
On the morrow all who had been robbed of anything gathered together in a large field by the wall of the city, and there, in the presence of the king and his wazirs, Shabrand restored all the money and jewels and clothes that he had taken. Everybody went away pleased, and there was peace again in the land.
On returning to the palace Shabrang begged the king to permit him to send for his mother, that he might get her counsel and help concerning the marriage. The king agreed, and Shabrang’s mother was sent for.
She arrived as quickly as she could, and at once had an interview with the king. His Majesty received her most graciously, and expressed himself as most glad to be able to give his daughter to one so clever and handsome and well-bred as her son.
“Your Majesty speaks kindly,” she replied, “but this marriage cannot be. It is not lawful to marry one’s son with one’s daughter. A brother cannot marry his own sister.”
“I do not understand you,” said the king.
“And no wonder,” was the reply, “for you do not remember me; but this ring and this handkerchief will remind you of me. Take them, please for they are yours, and give me back the ring which I gave you in exchange.”
She then told him everything – how that she was his lawful wife; and how that, because he had forsaken her, she had visited him in disguise; and how that Shabrang had been born to him; and how, when he had grown up, she had prevailed on him to go to the Kashmir court. Now was fulfilled what she spoke to him that day when they first met in her father’s garden – “a boy should marry his father’s daughter.”
Then and there the king of Kashmir was reconciled to his wife, and Shabrang was acknowledged as prince and heir to the throne. Henceforth all three lived together for many many years in great joy and happiness.”
Sources:
Folk-Tales of Kashmir, J Hinton Knowles, 1893
Kotharian Lightning 