From the folklore of Kashmir
A king and his chief wazir were in great trouble. Neither of them had been blest with a son.
A like trouble had bound the king and wazir very much together. They appeared happy only in one another’s society. Very rarely were they to be seen separate. Where the king was, there the wazir also would certainly be; and where the wazir was, there the king also would assuredly be found. One morning they went hunting together in a jungle, where they came across a gosain squatting before a fire and evidently worshipping, for he did not look up or in any way notice his illustrious visitors.
“Let us speak to him,” said the king. “Maybe the good man will do something for us.” Accordingly they both prostrated themselves before the man and told him all their trouble.
“Grieve not,” replied the gosain, still bending down his head, “grieve not.” Take these two mangoes, and give one to one wife, and the other to the other wife, and bid them eat. Then they each shall bear a son.”
Thanking the gosain, the king and the wazir returned and carried out his instructions; and in the course of nine months and nine days their wives gave birth to two fine boys. What rejoicings there were in the palace, and in the wazir’s house, and in the city, and in all the country round when these two boys were born! Gifts were lavished without measure on the brahmans, the poor were feasted everywhere, and all prisoners were released. Never was there such a time known in the land before.
As will be supposed, great care was bestowed on the young scions of such noble houses. While they were infants they were attended to by several experienced dais, and when they were of an age to learn they were instructed by the best masters. No pains or money were spared to make them proficient in every way; and so much did they profit with all these advantages, that they both became prodigies in learning and prowess and art.
Like their fathers, they too became much attached to one another, and were generally to be found together. One day they went together to a certain jungle to hunt. They rode about the place for several hours, till the prince becoming very tired and thirsty, they dismounted. The horses were fastened to a tree, and the prince sat down by them, while the wazir’s son went in quest of water. He quickly found a stream, and forgetting the prince, started off the discover its source. He went on a mile or so, till he came to a little spring, where he beheld a lovely fairy reclining beside a great lion. He noticed, too, that the beast seemed afraid of the fairy. Surprised at this strange sight he immediately turned and ran back to the prince as fast as he could, taking with him a little water on the way.
“Where have you been so long? Why do you look so? What has happened?” inquired the prince when the wazir’s son appeared.
“Oh! Nothing,” replied the wazir’s son.
“But something has occurred,” persisted the prince. “I can see it in your face.”
“O brother,” replied the wazir’s son, “I have seen the most lovely creature in the world, and a lion was by her side, and the animal seemed afraid of her, – such was the power of her beauty.”
“I also would like to see this woman. Come along, take me to her,” said the prince.
The wazir’s son agreed. So they both went together to the place, and found the lion asleep, with its head in the fairy’s lap.
“Don’t be afraid,” said the wazir’s son. “Let us go right up and seize the woman while the beast is sleeping.”
They both went close up, and the wazir’s son raised the lion’s head and laid it on the ground, while the prince took the fairy’s hand and led her away. The wazir’s son remained.
When the lion awoke, and saw nobody there except the wazir’s son, it said, “What has become of the fairy?”
“My friend has taken her away,” replied the wazir’s son.
“Your friend?” repeated the lion. “Is he your friend who has left you to die alone? Surely such a one is your most bitter enemy. No real friend would act like this. Listen to me, and I will tell you a story of some true friends:
“Once upon a time there were three friends; one was a prince, the other was a brahman, and the third was a carpenter. Each of them had some special gift. The prince was well qualified in settling hard and difficult disputes; the brahman could raise the dead to life again; and the carpenter could make a house of sandal wood that would go here and there at the command of its owner.
“On day the brahman was banished from his home. Something unpleasant had cropped up between him and his parents; so the latter turned him away. In the hour of his distress he sought his two friends, and told them everything, and entreated them to depart with him to some distant country. The prince and the carpenter both agreed. Accordingly they all started together. They had not gone far, when the prince for some reason or other stopped. The others, however, proceedeth on their way. After a while the prince hastened forward, thinking to overtake them; but he unfortunately followed a wrong path, and did not find them. On and on he went, however, hoping to reach them, and wondering why the prince lagged behind, till at last they gave him up, thinking that he had become home-sick and returned to the palace.
“In the course of his wanderings the prince arrived at an immense plain, in the midst of which was a grand and lofty building. ‘Who lives here?’ thought he. ‘Some mighty potentate most assuredly. I will go and inquire.’ On entering the building a most beautiful woman came forward to meet him.
“ ‘Come in,’ she said in a most kindly tone, and began to weep.
“ ‘Why do you weep?’ he asked.
“ ‘Because,’ she replied, ‘your beauty and your youth excite my compassion for you. In your ignorance you have wandered to the gates of death. Oh! Why did you not inquire before venturing on this journey? Knew you not that a rakshasa resides here, who has eaten every human being for many a mile around? Alas! Alas! What shall I say? I am afraid that you too will be devoured by him.’
“ ‘No, no,’ said the princes. ‘Speak not so despondingly. Advise me, please, and I shall be saved.’
“ ‘But I really do not know what to do for your safety,’ said the woman, and sobbed. At length, however, she led him to a room at back of the house, and shut him up in a big box that was there. ‘Now remain here quietly till I come again,’ she said, ‘and may Parameshwar preserve you.’
“In the evening the rakshasa returned. His keen sense of smell soon detected the presence of another human being in the place. ‘Another person is here besides yourself,’ he said. ‘Who is it? Tell me quickly. I am hungry.’
“ ‘You cannot be very well to-day.’ replied the woman. ‘No person has been here. Who do you suppose would dare to approach this place, which has become the terror of all the world?’
“On this the rahshasa was quiet; and the woman, seeing the effect of her words, gained confidence and played with him, and among other conversation asked him to inform her of the secret of his life. ‘You leave me every day,’ she said; ‘and when you go I know not when you will return. I sometimes fear that you will never come back, and then I – what shall I do? Whither shall I go? The people hate me for your sake, and will come and kill me. Oh! Tell me that there is no cause for fear.’
“ ‘My darling,’ said the rakshasa, ‘do not weep. I shall never die. Except this pillar be broken,’ pointed to one of the massive pillars that supported the front verandah of the building, ‘I cannot die. But who is there that knows this thing to do it?’
“The following morning the rahshasa went forth as usual, and directly he was out of sight the woman went and released the prince, and related to him all the adventures of the night. The prince was very glad when he heard what had happened. ‘Now is the time,’ said he. ‘I will immediately destroy this pillar, and rid the land of the monster.’ Thus saying, he struck the pillar again and again, till it was broken into several pieces; and it was as if each stroke had fallen on the rakshasa, for he howled most loudly and trembled exceedingly every time the prince hit the pillar, until at last, when the pillar fell down, the rakshasa also fell down and gave up the ghost.
“The prince stayed with the beautiful woman in the grand house, and people came in crowds to thank him for slaying the rakshasa. Henceforth peace and plenty reigned in the country. The surrounding land was again cultivated, villages were again inhabited, and the air was again filled with the sons of a happy and prosperous people. But true happiness does not flow on in even course for ever.
“One day the woman was arranging her hair by a window of the house, when a crow flew down and carried off the comb that she had placed on the sill. The bard carried it far away to the sea and let it drop. There it was swallowed by a big fish, and this fish chanced to be caught by a fisherman, and being a fine fish, was carried to the palace to be prepared for the king. In cleaning the fish the comb was found. Thinking it very curious, the cook showed it to the king. When His Majesty saw the comb he expressed a great with to behold its former owner. He dispatched messengers in every direction to try and find the woman, and promised an immense reward to any person who would bring her to him. After a while a woman was found who recognized the comb, and promised to introduce the owner of it to the king as soon as she could conveniently do so.
“She visited the wife of the prince, and quickly contrived to ingratiate herself in her favour. She got an invitation to come and stay at the house altogether, which she accepted. When she saw that she could not possibly accomplish her purpose so long as the prince was alive she poisoned the prince, and bribed the hakim to declare that he had died a natural death. Oh how the wife of the prince grieved when he died! People thought that she too would die. She would not give up the corpse, but had it placed in a big strong box and kept in her own private room. She had often heard of her husband’s two friends, and what they could do, and hoped much to see them some day and get her husband restored to life.
“At the earliest opportunity the wicked go-between persuaded the woman to leave the house, the scene of so much trouble, and to come and reside with her for a time. The woman agreed. As soon as she had got her into her house the go-between sent to the king and secretly informed him of her success whereupon His Majesty came and took the woman away by force to his palace and entreated her to live with him as his wife. She said that she would, but asked him to defer the marriage for six months, because her religious adviser had persuaded her to do so. The king was intensely happy in the thought of her affection, and waited anxiously for the day. He had a little palace built expressly for her near the roadside, and allowed her to live alone in it. Meanwhile the woman was praying and longing for some news of her deceased husband’s friends. She was inquiring everywhere, and was watching from her window every day, lest peradventure they should pass that way.
“One day she saw two men coming along together in the direction of the house. ‘Who are you, and whence do you come?’ she asked.
“ ‘We are travellers,’ they said, ‘and after much journeying have reached this place. We have lost our prince and friend, and are looking for him everywhere.
“ ‘Come in,’ she said, ‘and rest a while. Come in and tell me more of your friend who is lost. Perhaps I can help you to find him.’
“ ‘Show us,’ said they, ‘where the prince is, and we shall be happy,’ So they both entered the palace, and sitting down with the woman told her all their history.
“ ‘Praise, praise!’ she exclaimed. ‘I can tell you what has become of your friend; but, alas! He is dead.”
“ ‘Never mind,’ said the brahman; ‘I can restore him to life again. Thanks a thousand thanks, that we have reached this place! May Parameshwar bless you, lady, with all that heart can desire! Show us the body of our beloved friend once more.’
“ ‘But stay,’ said she. ‘We must act with great caution. The king of this country is deeply in love with me. I have plighted myself to him. Nearly six months has he waited for the marriage at my request, and now the day is near when he will come and fetch me. We must be very careful, because His Majesty has surrounded me with servants, who give information of all that transpires here. Without doubt he has already been informed of your presence in this place. How can we escape?’
“ ‘Fear not, lady,’ said the carpenter. ‘If you can procure me a little sandal wood, I will construct for you a house that will remove from place to place at the owner’s pleasure.’
“ ‘Very well,’ said the woman; ‘I will try to get it for you.’
“Presently a messenger was speeding to the king’s palace with a letter written after this manner: – ‘O king, I have betrothed myself to you. The day of our wedding draws nigh. Be pleased, I pray you, to send me three hundred maunds of sandal wood.’ The king complied at once with her request. When the house was quite ready the woman sent another letter to the king after this manner: – ‘O king, most gracious and good! The day of our wedding is at hand. Be pleased, I pray you, to allow my sister-in-law and the wife of my brother-in-law to come to me without delay. There are some matters on which I wish to have their counsel.’ The king complied with this request also.
“As soon as the two women reached the sandal wood house, where the woman and her friends were waiting for them, the carpenter ordered the building to transport them to the rakshasa’s palace, where they would find the prince, and be able to enjoy themselves, and be safe from all attacks of the king. Away the house went, and so quietly, that the women knew not what was happening. They were talking to one another and admiring the beauty of the structure, when suddenly they found themselves looking at the lovely palace of the dead rakshasa. There the brahman was shown the corpse of the prince, whom he restored to life again by touching his hand.
“Now all was joy and gladness again. The prince was formally married to the lovely woman, who turned out to be the daughter of one of the mightiest kings of that time; and his two friends the brahman and the carpenter were married to her sister-in-law and brother-in-law’s wife. And they all lived happily together to the end of their days in the rakshasa’s palace.
“O wazir’s son!” said the lion on finishing the story, “such men as the brahman and the carpenter are friends. Speak not of the prince, who has gone off with the fairy and left you here to perish alone – speak not of him as a friend. However, you shall not perish. I will not harm you. Depart to your house, and may peace be with you.”
Source:
Folk-Tales of Kashmir, J Hinton Knowles, 1893
Kotharian Lightning 