CHAPTER XIII

Vasishta and the Four Queens

Once upon a time there was a town called Atpat. In it there ruled a king who had four wives. They were always quarrelling over the housework; so, in order to get some peace at home, the king himself divided the work between them. To the first queen he gave all the dairy work, to the second queen he gave all the cooking, to the third he gave the nursery, and he ordered the fourth to look after the royal wardrobe. At first all went well. But in a little while the first queen said to the third queen, "Why should you have charge of the nursery? Why should you not work in the dairy?" The second queen said to the fourth queen, "Why should I have to do all the cooking?" The third queen asked, "Why should I have always to look after the children?" And the fourth queen stamped her foot and said, "I won't look after the king's clothes." And all day long they quarrelled and screamed at each other, and the poor king was more uncomfortable than ever. His face grew sad and careworn, and, from the time he got up to the time he went to bed, he could think of nothing but the way that his four queens were squabbling with each other.

One day the rishi, or sage, Vasishta [15] paid the king a visit. The king prostrated himself before the great sage and gave him a throne to sit upon. Vasishta looked at the king's face and saw how sad and careworn it was. He asked the cause, and the king told him. Then the rishi rose, and the king went with him to the palace of the four queens. When they reached it, they called to the queens to come out. The rishi then asked them why they quarrelled. The first queen cried out, "Why should I have to do the dairy work?" And the second queen cried out, "Why should I be only a cook-woman?" And the third cried out, "Why should I have all the children to look after?" And the fourth cried out, "Why should I have all the bother of sorting out all the king's clothes?" The king said, "You must do these things because I ordered you to." But the queens did not mind a word that he said, and they all screamed together so loud that the king and the rishi had to put their fingers in their ears to save themselves from being deafened. For a while the rishi became absorbed in thought, and then he turned to the first queen and said, "You have been placed in charge of the dairy, have you not?" The first queen assented. "Then listen to me," said Vasishta. "In a former life you were a cow, and near the spot in the jungle where you used to graze was an altar to Shiva. And every day at noon you used to come and stand near it and let milk drop upon it. And, because in this way you honoured the god Shiva, you have in this life become one of the queens of the king of Atpat. But you did not in your former life attain to full merit. So the god Shiva directed the king to place you in charge of his dairy, and the king conveyed the god's directions to you. You should therefore obey them, and you should honour the king as if he were Shiva himself. In this way you will attain to full merit and ascend to Shiva's heaven, Kailas." Vasishta then blessed the first queen. She prostrated herself before him, and, giving up all thought of quarrelling, went away and busied herself with her dairy work.

Then Vasishta turned to the second queen and asked, "What are you quarrelling about?" She replied, "Why should I be just a cook-woman?" The rishi thought for a while and said, "Lady, in a former life you were the wife of a poor Brahman, and you used to beg your food from door to door. But every Monday you used to fast, and whatever grain you begged that day you used to cook and offer to the god Shiva. And he was pleased with your devotion. Therefore in this life he made you one of the queens of Atpat. And because you cooked for the god Shiva, he directed the king to put you in charge of his kitchen. Therefore, obey the god's directions and give a great feast to all in Atpat. In this way you will gain the favour of Shiva, and he will take you with him to Kailas." Then he blessed the second queen, and she prostrated herself and went off quite cheerfully to cook the king's dinner.

The sage next turned to the third queen and asked, "What are you quarrelling about?" The queen answered, "Why should I do nothing but fiddle about the nursery?" Vasishta thought for a while and said, "In a former life, O Queen, you were a maid of a jungle tribe. Every Monday you used to fast yourself and offer the choicest fruits that you picked to the god Shiva. In return for them he has made you a queen, and he has entrusted the king's children to you. Therefore look after them and be kind to them, and in the end he will take you to live with him in Kailas." The rishi then blessed the third queen, and she prostrated herself before him. Then she ran off, her face all smiles, to play with the king's children.

Vasishta last of all turned to the fourth queen and said, "What are you quarrelling about?" She answered, "Why should I do nothing but look after the king's clothes?" The rishi said, "In a former life, O Queen, you were a kite that flew high up in the heavens. Beneath where you used to fly was an altar to Shiva, and every day at noon you would spread your wings over it and shade it from the sun's heat. So the god was pleased with you and in this life made you one of the queens of Atpat. As you spread your wings over Shiva's altar, so now a canopy hangs over your bed. And just as you served Shiva, now do service to the king, your husband. And you will thereby gain full merit and in the end reach Kailas." Then the rishi blessed her, and she went off quite gaily to attend to the king's clothes.

And the four queens never quarrelled any more, but lived happily ever afterwards with the king. And all little girls who hear this story should try to be as good as the queens were after Vasishta had cured them of their squabbling.



CHAPTER XIV

The Lamps and the King's Daughter-in-Law

Once upon a time there was a town called Atpat. In it there lived a king who had one little daughter-in-law. Now she was a very greedy little girl, and one day when some sweetmeats were got ready for all the family she went quietly and ate them all up herself. Then she got very frightened, for she knew that, if the king knew what she had done, he would order her to be well slapped. So, when the family began asking where the sweetmeats were she said that the mice had eaten them. And then every one began abusing the mice, saying what horrid little wretches they were, and what a good thing it would be if the cat caught and ate them up. But, when the mice heard all this, they were very angry with the little daughter-in-law for bringing a false charge against them, and they all met together and vowed that they would be revenged on her. Some days later the king invited a guest to his house, and the same night the mice went into the little daughter-in-law's room and dragged out one of her bodices and put it across the guest's bed. Next morning the bodice was discovered in the stranger's bed, and the little daughter-in-law was utterly disgraced. Her father-in-law and all her brothers-in-law scolded her dreadfully, and at last the king drove her out of the house. Now it so happened that it had till then always been the work of the little daughter-in-law to look after the lamps in the king's palace. Every morning she used to rub them well and trim the wicks. She used to light them herself and neap the burners with sugar-candy, and on Divali [16] Day she used to worship them and make them suitable offerings. But, directly the little daughter-in-law was driven away, none of the lamps were any longer cared for. On the next Divali Day the king was returning from a hunt, and he camped under a tree. Suddenly he saw all the lamps in his town of Atpat come and settle on its branches. One lamp after another told what was happening in its house—when there had been a dinner party, what there had been to eat, who had been invited, how they themselves had been cared for, and what honours they had received on Divali Day. After all the other lamps had told their story, the big lamp from the king's palace began, "Brother lamps, I do not know how to tell you. For none among you is so wretched as I am. In former years I was the most fortunate of all the lamps in Atpat. No other lamp had such honours paid it as I had, and this year I have to drag out my days In unspeakable misery." All the other lamps tried to comfort it, and asked it how it was that ill-fortune had overtaken it. "O brother lamps, how can I tell you?" repeated the big lamp. "I am the chief among the lamps that shine In the palace of the King of Atpat. One day the king's little daughter-in-law ate some sweetmeats and to save herself blamed the mice. To revenge themselves, they in turn brought a false charge against her by putting her bodice on the bed of one of the king's guests. So she was disgraced and driven out of the house. And after she left ill-fortune came upon me. For every year it was she who worshipped me and paid me honour; and wherever she is I wish her well, and I give her my blessing." The king listened attentively to the talk between the lamps, and thus he learnt that his daughter-in-law was innocent. He went home and asked whether there was any other evidence against her besides her bodice. And when he learnt that there was none, and that no one had seen anything happen between her and the king's guest, he sent a messenger for her and had her brought home. And he begged her pardon for the past, and gave her full authority over all his household; and the king lived and ruled ever afterwards as wisely and as well as King Ramchandra of Ayodhya. And if any one brings a false charge against any of us, may the lamps save us as they did the king's little daughter-in-law.



CHAPTER XV

Parwati and the Priest

Once upon a time there was a town called Atpat. In it there was a temple to the god Shiva. One day when Shiva and his wife Parwati were walking about they happened to come to this temple. They sat down there and began to play saripat. [17] After some time Parwati seeing a priest close by asked him who had won, she or Shiva. "Shiva," the priest replied. Parwati became very angry and cursed him, so that he became a leper, and the pains which overtook him were absolutely unendurable. One day a band of Apsaras [18] came down from heaven to the temple. They saw that the priest who lived in it was a leper, and they asked him the reason. He told them how Parwati had cursed him. They replied, "Do not be afraid; do as we tell you and you will get rid of your leprosy. Fast all next Monday, bathe that evening, worship the god Shiva, and then get half a pound of flour and mix it with treacle and ghee and eat it for dinner. But whatever you do, eat no salt all day. Do this for sixteen Mondays in succession, and on the seventeenth Monday get five pounds of flour, mix with it ghee and treacle, and offer it to Shiva inside this temple. Then divide it into three parts; leave one for the god, distribute a second among the Brahmans or give it to your cows, and take the third home to be eaten by you and your family." The Apsaras disappeared, and the priest followed their instructions and became quite well. Some time afterwards Shiva and Parwati came again to the temple. Parwati saw the priest cured of his leprosy and asked him how he had got rid of it. He told her exactly what he had done. She was very much surprised, and thought that if she did the same she might win back her son Kartakswami, [19] who had quarrelled with her and had run off in a rage. On the seventeenth Monday Kartakswami suddenly appeared, and both of them were reconciled. Later on, Kartakswami asked Parwati how she had brought him back, and Parwati told him. Now Kartakswami had a Brahman friend who had gone into a far-off country, and Kartakswami met him by accident shortly afterwards. He told the Brahman how the priest had cured himself of leprosy, and how he and Parwati had become reconciled. So the Brahman also practised the same rites for seventeen Mondays. He then set out for a distant country. As he travelled he came to a town. Now it happened that in that town arrangements were being made for the marriage of the king's daughter. Several princes had come from far-off countries to compete for her hand, and the king had erected a splendid pavilion for the royal betrothal. But he would not himself choose a prince to be his daughter's husband. He ordered that a garland should be placed on a she-elephant's trunk, and that the prince round whose neck the she-elephant threw the garland should be chosen to marry the king's daughter. But the she-elephant passed by all the princes in turn, until she came to where the Brahman stood. For he had come with the crowds of people to see the royal betrothal. Then the she-elephant stopped and put the garland round the Brahman's neck. The king ordered the Brahman to step forward, and he married him to his daughter. Some years later when the princess grew up, and she and the Brahman began to live together, she asked her husband by what merit he had succeeded in winning her for his wife, and he told her. And she in turn practised the same rites for seventeen Mondays. Nine months later a beautiful baby boy was born to her; and when he in turn grew up she told him the rites which she had practised to obtain him. And he in turn began to perform them. On the sixteenth Monday he set out for a journey. As he travelled in a distant country he came to a town over which ruled a king who had no son and only one daughter. The king had for a long time past been searching for a beautiful and virtuous young man, resolved when he found him to hand over to him his kingdom and marry him to his daughter. As the Brahman's son entered the town the king saw him and noticed on him all the marks of royal origin. So he summoned him to his house and married him to his daughter and seated him on his own throne. Now the next Monday was the seventeenth Monday since the Brahman's son had begun the rites which the Apsaras had told to the priest. That morning he got up and went to the temple and sent a message home to his wife that she should send him five sers of flour mixed with ghee and treacle. But the queen was too proud to do this. For she feared that the people in the street would laugh at her if she sent her husband five sers of flour mixed with ghee and treacle. So instead she sent him five hundred rupees in a plate. But because the flour and ghee and treacle were not sent, the king was unable to complete his ceremonial, and it was all spoilt. And the god Shiva instead of being pleased became very angry indeed. And he told the king that, if he kept the queen as his wife, he would lose his kingdom and die a beggar. Next day the king sent for his chief minister and told him what had happened. At first the minister said, "The kingdom belongs to the queen's father. If you drive her out your subjects will hate you." But the king replied, "Yes, but not to obey the god's command is a worse thing still." At last the minister agreed with the king, and the order went forth that the queen should be driven out of the city. So the queen was driven out and became quite poor and wandered along the road. At last she came to a distant town and lodged there with an old woman, who gave her food and drink. One day the old woman sent the queen out to sell fruit puddings. As she went into the bazaar a great wind came and carried off the fruit puddings. When she returned to the old woman's house, the queen told her what had happened, and the old woman drove her out of the house. Then she went and lodged with an oilman, who had great jars full of oil. But one day she went and looked inside the jars, and all the oil disappeared. So the oilman drove her off out of the house. The queen left the town and walked along until she came to a river with abundant water in it. But directly her eyes fell on the water, it all flowed away and left the water-bed quite dry. She then journeyed on until she came to a beautiful lake, but when her glance rested on the lake, it became full of worms, and the water began to stink. And, when the cowherds came as usual to water their cattle, the cattle would not drink the stinking water, and they had to go home thirsty. By chance a Gosavi, or holy man, came that way and saw the queen, and she told him her story. The holy man took her to his house and treated her as his own daughter, and she did her best to serve him faithfully. But, at whatever thing she looked, it would either disappear or become full of worms and maggots. At last the holy man searched for the cause of this by means of his inner knowledge. And thus he learnt that she had incurred the sin of spoiling the worship of Shiva, which the Apsaras had first taught the priest. Unless that sin were atoned for, her evil glance would never be purified. So the holy man prayed to the god Shiva, and the god was pleased with him; and when the holy man interceded with him on the queen's behalf, the god said that he would forgive her if she began and completed properly the rites which she had spoiled when her husband was performing them. The queen did so, and the god's anger vanished. Suddenly there rose in the heart of her husband, the king, a wish to see his queen, and he sent out messengers on every side to look for her. At last one of the messengers saw the queen in the holy man's hermitage and went back and told the king. The king was overjoyed, and, taking his chief minister with him, he journeyed to the hermitage. He threw himself at the holy man's feet and then loaded him with presents. And the holy man was pleased and said, "O King, I have treated your wife exactly as if she had been my own daughter. She has lived here just as if she had been in her father's house. Now take her with you back again and once more go through the marriage ceremony with her." The king consented, and both he and the queen prostrated themselves before the holy man, and then they both returned to Atpat. And they celebrated their home-coming with the greatest splendour. And the rest of the king's reign was as happy as possible. And we shall be just as happy if we honour Shiva like the King of Atpat did.



CHAPTER XVI

The Rishi and the Brahman

Once upon a time there was a town called Atpat. In it there lived a Brahman. For many years he lived happily and cultivated his fields of rice and grain. But one day his wife gave up the observances imposed on her, and, as a result, the whole house was stained by her conduct, and pollution hung like a black cloud over it. Her husband should have driven her out, but he had not the heart to do so. So he, too, incurred the blame of his wife's sin. In course of time they died, and, as a punishment for their wickedness, the husband became in his next life a bullock, and the wife became a dog. But the gods so far relented as to find them a home in the house of their only son.

Now the son was a very pious man, who never failed in his religious rites. He worshipped the gods, gave memorial honours to his dead father, and welcomed to his house every Brahman who passed by. One year, on the anniversary of his father's death, he told his wife to prepare a milk-pudding in honour of the dead, and announced that he would invite Brahmans to partake of it. The wife was as pious as her husband and never failed to obey his commands. So she made a big milk-pudding, and she boiled vegetables and stewed fruits. But just as she had finished and was about to invite her husband and his Brahman guests to begin their feast, the dog saw that a snake had entered the grain-jar, which had not been properly shut, and that it had left its poisonous trail all over the grain from which the milk-pudding had been prepared. The dog at once realised that, if the Brahmans who had been invited to the memorial feast ate the poisoned grain, they would die, and that the sin of Brahman murder would be incurred by the host, her son. So she suddenly rushed up and put her foot right into the middle of the milk-pudding. The son's wife was very angry. She threw a red-hot coal at the dog with such skill that it dropped on to the middle of her back and burnt a big hole in it. Then the son's wife cooked a fresh milk-pudding and fed the Brahmans. But she was so cross with the dog that she would not give her the smallest possible scrap. So the poor dog remained hungry all day. When night fell she went to the bullock who had been her husband and began to howl as loudly as she could. The bullock asked her what the matter was. She told him how she had seen that a snake had poisoned the grain, and how, to prevent the Brahmans dying and her son incurring the sin of their death, she had put her paw into the middle of the milk-pudding; how her daughter-in-law had been angry and had burnt a hole in her back with a live coal, and how her back hurt so that she did not know what to do. The bullock answered, "You are suffering for the pollution with which you darkened our house in a former life, and, because I let you remain in the house and touched you, I too am suffering, and I have become a bullock. Only to-day my son fastened me to his plough, tied up my mouth, and beat me, I too have, like you, had nothing to eat all day. Thus all my son's memorial services are useless." Now the son happened to be passing by the stable and heard this conversation. He at once fetched the bullock some grass and the dog some food, and he brought them both water to drink; and then he went to bed very sad at heart. Next morning he got up early and went into a dark forest until at last he came to the hermitage of a rishi. He prostrated himself before the rishi, who asked him why he was so sad. The Brahman's son said, "I am sad because my father has been born again as a bullock and my mother as a dog. Pray tell me how I can get their release," The rishi said, "There is only one way to help them. You must worship the seven sages who have their home in the Great Bear." [20] And he told the Brahman's son the ceremonies which he should observe, and how he should worship the seven sages continually every month of Bhadrapad, or September, for seven years. The Brahman's son obeyed the rishi, and at the end of the seven years a fiery chariot came down from heaven. The bullock suddenly became a handsome man, and the dog became a handsome woman. They both seated themselves in the chariot and were carried off to live with the sages who have their home for ever in the Great Bear.



CHAPTER XVII

The King and the Water-Goddesses

Once upon a time there was a town called Atpat. Over it there ruled a king. One day he founded a new village, and close by he built a village tank. But no matter how hard he tried he could not get it filled with water. So he prayed to the water-goddesses to help him, and the water-goddesses were pleased and said, "O King, O King, sacrifice to us the eldest son of your daughter-in-law, and the tank will fill with water." The king heard it and went home very troubled. He was ready to sacrifice his grandson; for though he loved the boy, yet he knew that the life of one was less than the welfare of many. But he knew that his daughter-in-law would never agree. At last he thought of a trick. He went up to her and said, "Daughter-in-law, it is a long time since you went to see your parents. You had better go and pay them a visit and leave your eldest boy behind. I shall look after him here." The daughter-in-law consented and went to visit her parents, leaving her son behind. The king waited for a favourable day and then bathed and anointed his grandson. He gave a feast in his honour and covered his body with costly jewelry. He then took him into the middle of the pond and made him lie down on a bed and told him not to stir. The water-goddesses were pleased, and a great mass of water suddenly rushed into the tank, and it was filled right up to the brink. After a time the daughter-in-law came back from her father's house and brought her brother with her. They asked where her son was, but they could get no information. Whenever they asked the king, he did nothing but say how the water had come into the tank, and what a beautiful tank it was, and how happy it would make all the villagers. At last the daughter-in-law guessed what had happened, and when the seventh day of the bright half of the month of Shravan, or August, came round, she and her brother went to the edge of the tank and began to worship the water-goddesses. She took a cucumber leaf, and on it she placed some curds and rice. Next she mixed with them some butter and a farthing's worth of betel-nut. Then she told her brother to pray, "O Goddess, Mother of All, if any one of our family is drowned in the tank please give him back to us." He did so and then threw the offering into the lake. Then they both turned to go home. But as she was turning homewards, she felt some one pull her by the legs. She looked down and saw that it was her missing son. When she saw him she dragged him with all her might to the bank, and then she and her brother walked home with him. When the king heard that she was coming, together with her missing son, he wondered greatly, and going to her he fell at her feet and said, "O my daughter, I offered your son to the water-goddesses; how has he come back again?" She said, "I worshipped the water-goddesses and made offerings to them. Then my son came out of the water, and I lifted him up and drew him to the shore." The king was overjoyed and showed the greatest favour to his daughter-in-law. And she and her little son lived happily ever afterwards.



CHAPTER XVIII

The Lid of the Sacred Casket

Once upon a time there was a town called Atpat. In it there lived a Brahman who had two twin sons. While they were still quite young, the twins' parents died, and their relatives stole from them all their property and then turned them out of the house. The twins wandered along until they came to a town. It was then noon, and the boys were weary with walking and were tortured with hunger and thirst. As they entered the town, a Brahman came out of his door to throw food to the crows. He saw the two boys and called them in, fed them, and then made them tell him their story. When he heard it he resolved to provide for them, and he lodged them in his house and taught them to recite the Vedas. On Lalita Panchmi Day the Brahman began to perform certain ceremonies. His pupils asked him why he did so. The sage replied that by doing so one could attain to wealth, knowledge, and to the wish of one's heart. The boys begged him to instruct them, and they quickly learnt how to worship the goddess Parwati. Not long afterwards the Brahman provided them with wives, and they returned to their own city, acquired wealth, and were very happy. A year or two later the twins separated. But the elder was a wise boy and never forgot to worship the goddess Parwati on Lalita Panchmi Day. So he retained the riches which he had gained. But the younger was foolish and forgot all about it, so the goddess began to dislike him, and he lost all his money. And at last he became so poor that he and his wife had to give up their house and go and live on the charity of his elder brother. One day the elder brother's wife spoke so crossly and said such nasty things to the younger twin, that he felt that he could not stay in the house any longer. And he remembered then that of recent years he had entirely forgotten to worship Parwati. He felt very penitent, and he decided that somehow or other he would win back the goddess's favour. Taking his wife with him, he left his brother's house and journeyed to a distant country. At last he came near a town, and, meeting a cowherd, the younger twin asked him what its name was. The cowherd said, "The town is called Upang." "Who is the king?" asked the younger twin. The cowherd replied, "He also is called Upang." The wanderer then asked whether there was any place where he and his wife could lodge. The cowherd told him that in the town there was a temple of Parwati, and close to it was a rest-house where the wanderer and his wife could lodge. The cowherd directed them to the rest-house. And before lying down the younger twin worshipped Parwati in the temple and begged her pardon for his previous neglect. Parwati felt sorry for him, and that night she appeared to him in a dream. She told him to go to King Upang's palace and to beg from him the lid of the sacred casket in which the accessories of worship were kept. He should, thereafter, always pray to it, and in the end he would come by his heart's desire. The younger twin woke up, and the same morning he went to King Upang's palace and begged from him the lid of the sacred casket in which were kept the accessories of worship. The king at first refused, but when the younger twin told the king of his dream the king consented. The Brahman took the lid home, worshipped it, and, just as the goddess had foretold, he came by his heart's desire. Property and happiness returned, and a year later his wife bore him a daughter. As the years passed the little girl grew up. One day she took the lid of the sacred casket and went with some playmates to play and bathe by the bank of a river. Suddenly the corpse of a Brahman came floating by. Seeing it, the little girl took the lid of the casket and for fun began to splash water on it. Such was the power of the sacred lid, that the corpse instantly became alive again and became a Brahman, tall as a tree and beautiful as the sun. The little girl fell in love with him on the spot and told him that he must become her husband. "But," said the Brahman, "how shall I manage it?" The little girl said, "Come home with me at dinner-time, take as usual water [21] in your hand, but do not sip it. Then my daddy will ask you, 'Bhatji, Bhatji, why do you not sip the water in your hand?' You must reply, 'I am ready to dine if you marry me to your daughter. If you will not, I shall get up and go away.' Then he will consent to our marriage." The Brahman agreed, and he went home with the little girl, and everything happened as she had planned. To prevent the Brahman from getting up without any food, the little girl's father agreed to their marriage. When a favourable day came they were married, and when she was old enough the little girl went to her husband's house. As she went she carried off the lid of the sacred casket of King Upang. But, because it had gone, her father lost all his wealth and fell once more into the greatest poverty. His wife went to her daughter's house and asked for it back, but she refused to give it up. The wife was very angry and every day began to hate her son-in-law more and more. But for him, as she thought, the little girl would never have married and would not have stolen the lid of the sacred casket. One day the wife met her son-in-law on the road, and she gave him such a fearful slap in the face that he instantly fell on the ground and became a corpse again. His mother-in-law then-snatched from him the lid of the casket, which he happened to have in his hand, and ran away home. There he lay until the little girl, his wife, began to search for him. When she found him she prayed to the goddess, and by her aid and by means of the merit which she had acquired by worshipping the lid of the casket while she had it, she restored her husband to life. But the twin and his wife went on becoming poorer and poorer. And at last they went back to his brother's house and asked him why it was that the younger twin was always losing his wealth as fast as he gained it. The elder brother listened to the whole story and then he said, "I do not wonder at it. First you lost the lid of the casket, then, in order to get it back, your wife killed a Brahman. Your only chance now is to worship Parwati harder than ever, and perhaps in the end you may recover your good estate." So the younger brother went home and worshipped Parwati with greater vigour than ever. And at last she relented and gave him her blessing. He recovered his wealth and came by all that his heart desired. And he and his wife lived happily ever afterwards.



CHAPTER XIX

The Brahman Wife and Her Seven Sons

Once upon a time there was a town called Atpat. In it there lived a poor Brahman who used always to perform Shradh or memorial ceremonies to his father on the last day of the month of Shravan. When performing these ceremonies he always invited other Brahmans to dine. But it so happened that on every last day of the month of Shravan, [22] from the day of his father's death onwards, his daughter-in-law gave birth to a little boy. And just as the Brahmans had begun to enjoy their dinner, the child would die. So all the Shradh ceremonies had to cease, and the poor Brahmans had to be sent away feeling most dreadfully hungry. This happened regularly for six years. But, when the seventh little boy was born only to die just as his guests were beginning to enjoy their dinner, the poor Brahman lost all patience. He took the newly-born child and placed it in his daughter-in-law's lap and then drove her out of the house and into the jungle. The poor woman walked along until she came to a great, dark forest. In it she met the wife of a hobgoblin, [23] who asked, "Lady, Lady, whose wife are you, and why do you come here? Run away as quickly as you can. For, if my husband the hobgoblin sees you, he will tear you to pieces and gobble you up." The poor woman said she was the daughter-in-law of a Brahman, and explained how every year she had given birth to a son on the last day of Shravan, how it had died in the middle of the Shradh feast, and how at last her father-in-law had put the child in her lap and had driven her from home and into the forest. The hobgoblin's wife repeated, "If you value your life at all, go away." The Brahman woman began to cry, until at last the hobgoblin's wife had pity on her and said, "Do not be afraid; walk a little way until you come to an altar to the god Shiva, Close by is a bel [24] tree; climb into it and hide among the branches. To-night the serpent-maidens from Patala and the wood-nymphs, together with a train of seven demon Asuras, [25] will come and worship at the altar. After making their offerings to the god, they will call out, 'Is there any uninvited guest present to whom we can make a gift?' You must then call out in reply, 'Yes, I am here.' They will see you and question you, and you must tell them all your story." The poor Brahman woman agreed. She walked on until she came to the god Shiva's altar. She climbed into the branches of the bel tree. She remained there until midnight came. Suddenly the serpent-maidens from Patala and the wood-nymphs, accompanied by a train of seven demon Asuras, came and worshipped at the altar. After making offerings to the god they called out, "Is there any uninvited guest present to whom we can make a gift?" The Brahman woman at once climbed down the bel tree and called out in answer, "Yes, I am here," The serpent-maidens from Patala and the wood-nymphs, greatly surprised, asked her who she was, and she told them all her story. Then the serpent-maidens of Patala and the wood-nymphs ordered their train of demon Asuras to go and search for the seven sons of the Brahman woman. The seven demon Asuras spurred their horses and rode off in all directions. In a little time the giant captain of the demon guards rode up carrying in his arms the body of a little boy of six. Then another rode up carrying the body of a little boy of five. And four others rode up carrying a little boy of four, a little boy of three, a little boy of two, and a little boy only one year old. Last of all the seventh demon Asura rode up with a newly-born baby boy. The demons placed the bodies in front of the serpent-maidens from Patala and of the wood-nymphs. And first of all the little boy of six came to life and got up and ran to his mother. Next the little boy of five, and then the little boy of four, and then the little boy of three came to life and ran to their mother. Then the little boy of two came to life and got up, but he could only walk to his mother. Next the little one-year-old boy came to life, but he could not get up, so he lay on his back and kicked up his legs. And last of all the newly-born baby came to life, but he could not even kick up his legs. And they were all delighted to see their mother, and she was overjoyed to have all her sons again. But the serpent-maidens from Patala and the wood-nymphs warned her that she must pray to the sixty-four Yoginis, the attendants who wait on Durga, the Goddess of Death, or else her children would be snatched from her again. And they told her to pray her hardest, for her prayer had to travel down to the depths of Hell. So the Brahman woman prayed her hardest to the sixty-four Yoginis, and then she prostrated herself before the serpent-maidens from Patala, and the wood-nymphs, and their train of demon Asuras. And then she took the little one-year-old boy on her hip, and the newly-born baby boy in her arms, and she walked with her other five sons to the village. When the villagers saw her coming they ran and said to the Brahman, "Bhatji, Bhatji, your daughter-in-law is coming back home." And the Brahman became very angry and vowed that he would drive her away again. So he watched for her coming. But first of all he saw walking towards his house a little boy of six, and then a little boy of five, and then a little boy of four, and then two other little boys of three and two. Last of all he saw his daughter-in-law with a one-year-old boy on her hip and a newly-born baby in her arms. He rose and fetched a cauldron of water and two handfuls of rice from his house. And he waved his hands filled with rice round the heads of his daughter-in-law and of all her children, and last of all he washed their feet. In this way he welcomed back to his house his grandchildren and their mother. And he made her tell him all her story; and she, and her children, and the Brahman spent the rest of their lives in great peace and perfect happiness.



CHAPTER XX

The Golden Temple

Once upon a time there was a town called Atpat. In it there reigned a king who had four daughters-in-law. He loved three of them very dearly, but the fourth, who was an ugly little girl, he did not like at all. To the three daughters-in-law he gave nice food and fine clothes. But to the ugly little daughter-in-law he gave nothing but scraps from his table and thick, coarse clothes to wear. He would not even let her sleep inside the house, but made her sleep in the stable and look after the cows. The poor ugly daughter-in-law grew so unhappy that, when the first Monday in Shravan [26] came, she ran out of the palace, and out of the town, and then away as fast as her fat little legs would carry her. At last she went and hid herself in the woods. Now it so happened that that very day a band of serpent-maidens [27] had come up from Patala. After wandering through the forest and bathing in the running streams, they had joined a bevy of wood-nymphs and were coming in her direction. At first she was too terrified to say a single word. But at last she asked, "Ladies, ladies, where are you going?" "To the temple of Shiva," they replied, "to worship the god. For by doing that, one wins the love of one's husband, one obtains children, and one comes by the wish of one's heart." When the ugly daughter-in-law heard that by doing what the serpent-maidens and the wood-nymphs were about to do she could win love for herself, she at once thought that in this way she, too, might win the love of her father-in-law. So she told the serpent-maidens of Patala and the wood-nymphs that she would go with them. They went deeper and deeper into the forest until at last they came to a temple of the god Shiva. There the serpent-maidens and the wood-nymphs offered to the god rice, betel-nut, incense, flowers, and the leaves of the bel tree. The ugly little daughter-in-law did just as they did. And when she had finished she cried out, "O God Shiva, please, please vouchsafe my prayer also, and make my father-in-law and my mother-in-law, my brothers-in-law and my sisters-in-law like me as much as they now dislike me." That evening she went home and fasted, and all the scraps which they threw to her from the king's table she gave to her favourite cow. And then she sat by herself and prayed to the god Shiva. The following Monday she once more ran out of the palace and out of the town and into the woods as fast as her fat little legs would carry her. There she met again the serpent-maidens of Patala and the bevy of wood-nymphs and went with them to the temple of Shiva in the distant heart of the forest. The first time the serpent-maidens and the wood-nymphs had given her the incense and the flowers, the rice and the betel-nut, and the leaves of the bel tree, with which to perform her worship. But they had told her that the next time she must bring them herself. So when she ran away on the second Monday in Shravan she brought with her incense and flowers, rice and betel-nut and bel-tree leaves, and after offering them and some sesamums to the god she once more prayed, "O God Shiva, please, please grant my prayer and make my father-in-law and my mother-in-law, my brothers-in-law and my sisters-in-law like me as much as they now dislike me." Then she went home and fasted, and giving all her dinner to her favourite cow she sat by herself and prayed to Shiva. That evening the king asked her who the god was whom she was honouring, and where he lived. The ugly little daughter-in-law replied, "Afar off my god lives, and the roads to him are hard, and the paths to him are full of thorns. Where snakes abound and where tigers lie in wait, there is his temple." The third Monday in Shravan, the ugly little daughter-in-law again started from the palace with her flowers and incense, her betel-nut and bel leaves, her rice and sesamum, in order to meet the serpent-maidens of Patala and the bevy of wood-nymphs, and with them to worship the god in the hidden depths of the forest. This time the king and her other male relatives followed her and said to her, "Ugly little daughter-in-law, take us with you and show us your god." But the temple of Shiva was ever so far from the king's palace. The ugly daughter-in-law did not mind, for she was used to cruel treatment. She had also walked to the temple twice before, and her feet had got as hard as two little stones. But the king and his relatives were tired to death; and their feet swelled up to the size of an elephant's, and they became as full of thorns as the back of a porcupine. And they muttered to each other, "How on earth does that ugly little daughter-in-law manage to walk as she does through the heart of the forest?" The ugly daughter-in-law at last felt sorry for them. She prayed to the god Shiva to build a temple near at hand. The god consented, and, with the help of the serpent-maidens of Patala and of the wood-nymphs, he created suddenly a beautiful temple all of pure, yellow gold. Its pillars were studded with jewels, and the jars in it were all of crystal. In the middle there rose from the ground an altar to the god Shiva. And last of all the god revealed himself to the king and his companions in all his glory and splendour. For a moment only they saw him; and then he vanished. The king and his companions stared, too astonished to move or speak. But the ugly little daughter-in-law prostrated herself and offered to the god flowers and incense. Then she cried out, "O God Shiva, please, please vouchsafe my prayer and make my father-in-law and my mother-in-law, my brothers-in-law and my sisters-in-law like me as much as they now dislike me." When the king heard her prayer his heart softened to her, and he spoke kindly to her and gave her jewelry and trinkets. In a little while he took off his turban and, placing it on a peg, walked out to look at a lovely lake which, unnoticed by any one before, now stretched out close by the temple. And behind him strolled out his companions. But when they had gone out of sight, the beautiful golden temple by the lake vanished for ever. After looking at the lake the king came back to fetch his turban which he had left in the temple. But he could not find the beautiful temple all of pure, yellow gold, with its jewel-studded pillars and its crystal jars. The king asked the little daughter-in-law the cause. She said nothing, but straightway walked deeper into the forest. And the king and his companions, although weary to death, followed her. At last they came to the temple where she had worshipped, together with the serpent-maidens from Patala and the bevy of wood-nymphs. It was a tiny temple, and inside it there was a rough altar. At the foot of the altar lay the flowers which the ugly daughter-in-law had offered to the god, and close by on a peg hung the turban left by the king. Again the king asked his daughter-in-law the meaning of what had happened. She replied, "This temple that you see is my own poor little temple. But, because of my prayers, the god Shiva showed himself to you in the beautiful temple, all of pure, yellow gold, with its jewel-studded pillars and its crystal jars." When the king heard her reply, he grew more pleased than ever with the daughter-in-law whom formerly he had so disliked. And because the god had revealed himself at her prayer, the king, to do her honour, sent for his royal palanquin and had her carried home in state. And the ugly little daughter-in-law became out of the four the king's favourite. And he was so much nicer to her than he was to his other three daughters-in-law that they became as jealous as cats. But the king and the ugly little daughter-in-law did not mind them the least little bit. And they both lived happily ever afterwards.



NOTES

[1] For an account of the birth of Kartakswami see The Tale of the Tulsi Plants p. 93.

[2] In India days of the week have the same mysterious connexion with the astral bodies that they have in Europe. Aditwar or Raviwar is sun's day (Sunday); Somwar is moon's day (Monday); Mangalwar is Mars' day (mardi); Budhwar is Mercury's day (mercredi); Brihaspatiwar is the day of Diespiter or Jupiter (jeudi); Shukrawar is Venus' day (vendredi); Shaniwar is Saturn's day (Saturday).

[3] His bad actions in a former life.

[4] All these stories take place in Atpat town. This literally means "City Splendid." But in the tales it is simply a fabulous city.

[5] Although Tuesday is really the day of Mars, Mangal, this tale by a popular error connects the day with Mangalgauri or Parwati, Shiva's wife.

[6] Budh is Mercury; Brahaspati is Jupiter.

[7] For serpent-maidens of Patala see note to Story XX.

[8] Mahalaxmi is always worshipped in this way. And it is a common practice for anyone who wants anything to blow on a pot and then wish for it.

[9] Kolhapur is the chief seat of the worship of Mahalaxmi.

[10] Ashwin corresponds approximately with October.

[11] A kind of draughts.

[12] Nagpanchmi Day falls on Shravan Sud 5, i.e. the 5th day of the bright half of Shravan.

[13] Bhatji is the name by which a mendicant Brahman is addressed.

[14] This is called the akshataropan.

[15] Vasishta was the family priest of King Dasaratha, father of Ramchandra. After death he became one of the stars in the constellation of the Great Bear.

[16] Divali is the feast of lamps in the month of Kartih.

[17] Saripat is a kind of draughts.

[18] Apsaras are attendants on the gods.

[19] Kartakswami was really Parwati's step-son (see Preface).

[20] The Indians do not associate the Great Bear constellation with a bear, but they believe it to be the habitation of seven rishis. The seven rishis vary in different works. In the Mahabharat the names given are Marichi, Atri, Angiras, Pulaha, Kratu, Pulatya, and Vasishta.

[21] Aposhani. This is the water which a Brahman sips from his hand before and after his meal.

[22] Shravan corresponds roughly with August. The death of the child nullified all the virtue of the Shradh feast, which had at once to be stopped.

[23] Zhoting is really the unquiet ghost of a Musulman, but hobgoblin is probably a sufficiently close translation.

[24] A tree sacred to Shiva.

[25] The Asuras, who are now reckoned petty demons, had once upon a time a much higher position. They are the same as Ahura-Magda, the Jupiter of the Iranians. The latter, curiously enough, degraded the Devas or Hindu Gods to the subordinate place of demons. (Cf. Rawlinson's Bactria, page 21.)

[26] Shravan = August.

[27] Nag-kanya. These are the maidens of the race of the Nagas, who are said to have sprung from Kadru, wife of Kasyapa. One of them, Ulupi, married the hero Arjuna. They live in Patala, the lowest of the seven underground regions.

THE END