Kotharian Lightning

From the folklore of Kashmir

In the days of yore there was a certain city, wherein there lived a goldsmith. He was head of his guild with twelve hundred guildsmen under him. He used to make articles for the King’s daughter, and these his wife would take to her. One day the princess told the goldsmith’s wife that in future her husband must himself bring these things, so one day he set out to her with a ring. When the princess saw it she took exception to it. “It is crooked,” said she. So he took it back and went home, and there fell sick.

The truth was that he had fallen in love with the princess, and she too had become enamoured of him. She cried to her foster mother:

“Full of sweet languishment is the son of a goldsmith.

I have seen him, O nurse, and mad is my longing for him.”

But the foster-mother replied:

“Utter not, O daughter, childish talk,

Or thou wilt be caught within the net of love.

Close thine ear, O daughter, to such words,

Or else thou wilt find thyself a mark for blame.”

The goldsmith lay sick of the fever of love, and his wife was a clever woman. She understood the cause of his pain, and said to him, “Practice thou pitching balls, and make two balls of gold.”

So he made two balls of gold and went out holding balls in his hand. Hither and thither he pitched balls of stone and balls of iron as he went along, till he came below the princess’s window, and through it he flung into he lap-cloth the two balls of gold. On this she turned her back towards him and showed him a mirror. Then she threw some water out of the window. Then she threw out a posy of flowers, and again a hair. Finally she lifted up an iron stiletto and with it scratched the sill of the window. When the goldsmith had seen all this he returned home, and he wife said to him, “Well, dear, what did you do?” Said he to her, “I flung, my dear, the balls to her, and they fell, my dear, into her lap-cloth. Then, my dear, she turned her back to me and showed me a mirror. Then, my dear, she threw some water out of the window. Then she threw out a posy of flowers, and then a hair. Then she made a scratch upon the window-sill with an iron stiletto.” Replied she, “When she turned her back and showed the mirror, she meant that someone else was there; when she threw out water, she meant that you must come in by the water-drain; when she threw the posy of flowers, she meant that it was the garden into which you must come; when she showed the stiletto, she meant that you must bring a file, as there are iron railings to be cut through; and when she threw a hair, she meant that she was combing her locks.”

At eventide the goldsmith went forth, and entered the garden. There he found a bed and got up on to it. He was weak from illness and fell asleep. While he so slept, there came the princess. From the pillow she walked to the foot of the bed, and from the foot back again to the pillow, but he never awoke to welcome her. By that time the day began to blossom forth, and the princess ran off home. Thereafter the goldsmith awoke, and returned to his house. Says his wife to him, “What dear, did you do?” She he in reply, “She never came to me.” Says she to him, “Come here, my dear.” He went up to her, and she looked into his pocket, and found there the two golden balls that on the day before he had thrown into the princess’s lap-cloth. Says she to him, “She did come to you, but you never stayed awake. Now, when you go again this evening, I will tell you what to do.”

She set to work pairing the ten nails of his hands, and as she did so, she gave to one of them a deep gash. Cried he, “You’ve been and killed me!” But she replied, “I was never taught barber’s work by my father and mother. When you go to-day, I’ll give you a little remedy.” So she gave him some red pepper and salt, saying, “Next time you get up to that bed and you feel sleepy, apply a little of this medicine to your cut finger and your sleep will become cool.”

So the goldsmith went out, taking with him the medicine, and came to the garden, and got up on to the bed. He waited a long time, yet no one ever came. At length he began to feel sleepy, but his hand was too sore, and he caught hold of it. He said to himself, “She hasn’t come. If I had only put some of that medicine on my sore finger I should have had a cool and refreshing sleep.” So he put some of the medicine on the cut, and the smart was like a fiery poison in his heart. He jumped up, nursing his aching hand.

Just then came the princess, and all his pain was forgotten. He did with her what was proper to the occasion, and they fell asleep in each other’s arms. Meantime the dawn began to blossom forth. The chief constable came by on his rounds of inspection, and found there the princess and the goldsmith. He arrested them, making them over to his henchmen, and put them into jail. Just then a man happened to be passing along the road, and they called out to him, “Please, sir, make an outcry in the goldsmiths’ market. You must say, ‘The King’s ass has trespassed in the saffron field, and who knows whether they will cut off its tail or cut its throat.’ ”

“The King’s ass was caught in the saffron field,

And as I went there, my heart became all full of anxiety.

Thou must come at dawn with money to pay the fine,

Otherwise the King will kill it there and then.”

The goldsmith’s wife heard this outcry. She went into the market and bought some loaves. She put these into a deep basket, and went off to the jail, crying:

“In six prisons have I distributed loaves.

Now, O God, would I enter a seventh.”

She went about distributing these loaves, saying, “My husband is sick. And what did holy men and mendicants say to me but to distribute loaves in seven jails. If ye have ought to say to me, say it to me as I got in; but say not ought to me as I go out, for that will risk the fulfillment of my vow.” And then she continued, “I wonder if ye have any prisoners herein.” They replied, “At the last watch of the night the chief constable brought hither two prisoners. They are in there at the back.” So she came up to them, and said to her husband, “How can we now get the princess free? Have you any plan for releasing her?” Said he, “If I had any plan, would I now be in prison?”

She took off her clothes and put them on the princess, and took off the princess’s clothes and put them on herself. Then she turned the basket upside down over the princess’s head, so as to conceal it, and the princess went straight out of the jail, and came home. In the meantime the chief constable reported to the King that the princess and the goldsmith had been found in the garden, and, of course, had been put in prison. The King went forth into the judgment hall. They brought the two prisoners before him, and, lo and behold, they were the husband and wife! The goldsmith’s wife respectfully folded her arms and said to the King, “Your Majesty, we had gone to a marriage feast, and on our way back happened to pass through this city of yours. It was then late, so we went into your garden. There we chanced to see a bed, and got on to it and went to sleep. Well, your chief constable came along, and, as you see, arrested us and put us into prison.” The the chief constable got up and said to the King, “Your Majesty, let your Majesty’s daughter make oat at the Viginah Nag. People say that if anyone make a false oath there, he never rises up again, but falls down dead on the spot.”

Said the goldsmith’s wife to the goldsmith, “Have you any plan for saving the princess?” Said he to her, “Please tell me how?” Said she, “In the first place, pull off all your clothes, and put wooden patterns on your feet. In the second place, rub ashes over your whole body, and pretend to be a mendicant devotee. As soon as they shall bring the princess to the Nag, you must go up to her, and catch hold of her skirt saying, “First of all, pray give me alms.” She can then safely take oath and say, “O hold Viginah Nag, save and except this mad fellow no one hath ever seized my skirt.”

She went down to bathe in the Viginah Nag.

“I know not why this charge was brought against me.

Only this mad one hath caught the skirt of my garment.”

Then what happened to the vile chief constable?

All the folk took their several ways to their homes.

Then what happened to the vile chief constable?

So the princess went home in peace, and they took the chief constable and impaled him. The goldsmith and his wife also returned to their own house, and there he fell sick. He was sick with the fever of love for the princess. But the goldsmith’s wife was very clever. She made a necklace worth a hundred dinars and put it on her husband. She dressed herself as a mendicant ascetic, and him as a dancing girl, and brought him to the King’s palace. Said she to the King, “Here is my brother’s wife, and I am putting her in thy charge. I must be off to my brother who has gone away on a trading expedition. So here is my dancing girl placed in thy charge until I return. She is yet a virgin and thou must keep her with thine own daughter.” Saying this she left the goldsmith there and returned to her own house. Shortly afterwards the goldsmith himself slipped away, and also went home.

The goldsmith’s wife dresses her husband up as a merchant, and arrives as if from a journey at the King’s city. She herself is again made up as the mendicant ascetic. She leaves the pretended merchant in the tent, and herself goes to the King. She makes her petition to him. “Give me,” said she, “my dancing girl.” The King replies with abuse, and throws curses at her eyes, but she reiterates, “Give me my dancing girl.”

“Longing have I been for my girl as the days went by. The mendicant has come for his dancing girl.”

And the King replies to her:

“O mendicant, fix not the banner of thy claim, tol-lol-lay,

I will give thee another lady in compensation, tol-lol-lay.”

But the mendicant answers:

“An ascetic I am without worldly ties, tol-lol-lay.

In compensation I’ll take thine own daughter, tol-lol-lay.”

He made a necklace worth a hundred dinars, and putting it on his own daughter, made her over to the mendicant ascetic.

Taradiddle, taradiddle, tol-lol-lay,

It is only womenfolk who can act this way.

She took the princess and made her over to her husband. And she said to them, “You must learn, and she must learn.”

Sources:

Hatim’s Tales: Kashmiri Stories and Songs, Aurel Stein, George Grierson, 1923