Tales of the Punjab: Folklore of India

And when they came within sight of where her mother's hut used to stand, lo! on the horizon showed a shining, flaming golden palace, that glittered and glanced like solid sunshine. Within and without all was gold,—golden servants and a golden mother!

There they stopped, admiring the countless marvels of the Sun palace, for three days, and when the third was completed, the prince, more enamoured of his bride than ever, set his face homewards; but when he came to the spot where he had first seen the glittering golden palace from afar, he thought he would just take one look more at the wondrous sight, and, lo! there was nothing to be seen save a low thatched hovel!

Then he turned to his bride, full of wrath, and said, 'You are a witch, and have deceived me by your detestable arts! Confess, if you would not have me strike you dead!'

But the daughter fell on her knees, saying, 'My gracious prince, I have done nothing! I am but a poor homeless girl. It was the Sun that did it.'

Then she told the whole story from beginning to end, and the prince was so well satisfied that from that day he too worshipped the Sun.

THE RUBY PRINCE

Once upon a time a poor Brâhman was walking along a dusty road, when he saw something sparkling on the ground. On picking it up, it turned out to be a small red stone, so, thinking it somewhat curious, the Brâhman put it into his pocket and went on his way. By and by he came to a corn-merchant's shop, at the side of the road, and being hungry he bethought himself of the red stone, and taking it out, offered it to the corn-dealer in exchange for a bite and sup, as he had no money in his pocket.

Now, for a wonder, the shopkeeper was an honest man, so, after looking at the stone, he bade the Brâhman take it to the king, for, said he, 'all the goods in my shop are not its equal in value!'

Then the Brâhman carried the stone to the king's palace, and asked to be shown into his presence. But the prime minister refused at first to admit him; nevertheless, when the Brâhman persisted that he had something beyond price to show, he was allowed to see the king.

Now the snake-stone was just like a ruby, red and fiery; therefore, when the king saw it he said, 'What dost thou want for this ruby, O Brâhman?'

Then the Brâhman replied, 'Only a pound of meal to make a girdle cake, for I am hungry!'

'Nay,' said the king, 'it is worth more than that!'

So he sent for a lâkh of rupees from his treasury, and counted it over to the Brâhman, who went on his way rejoicing.

Then the king called his queen, and gave the jewel into her custody, with many instructions for its safe keeping, for, said he, there was not its like in the whole world. The queen, determined to be careful, wrapped it in cotton-wool, and put it away in an empty chest, locking the chest with double locks.

So there the ruby snake-stone lay for twelve long years. At the end of that time the king sent for his queen, and said,' Bring me the ruby; I wish to satisfy myself that it is safe,'

The queen took her keys, and going to her room, opened the chest, and, lo! the ruby was gone, and in its place was a handsome stripling! She shut down the box again in a great hurry, and thought and thought what she had better do to break the news to the king.

Now as she thought, the king became impatient, and sent a servant to ask what the delay was. Then the queen bade the servant carry the box to the audience chamber, and going thither with her keys, she unlocked the chest before the king.

Out stepped the handsome stripling, to everybody's astonishment.

'Who are you?' quoth the king, 'and where is my jewel?'

'I am Ruby Prince' returned the boy; 'more than that you cannot know.'

Then the king was angry, and drove him from the palace, but, being a just man, he first gave the boy a horse and arms, so that he might fight his way in the world.

Now, as Prince Ruby journeyed on his steed, he came to the outskirts of the town, and saw an old woman making bread, and as she mixed the flour she laughed, and as she kneaded it she cried.

'Why do you laugh and cry, mother?' quoth Prince Ruby.

'Because my son must die to-day.' returned the woman.' There is an ogre in this town, which every day eats a young man. It is my son's turn to provide the dinner, and that is why I weep.'

Then Prince Ruby laughed at her fears, and said he would kill the ogre and set the town free; only the old woman must let him sleep a while in her house, and promise to wake him when the time came to go forth and meet the ogre.

'What good will that do to me?' quoth the old woman; 'you will only be killed, and then my son will have to go to-morrow. Sleep on, stranger, if you will, but I will not wake you!'

Then Prince Ruby laughed again. 'It is of no use, mother!' he said, 'fight the ogre I will; and as you will not wake me I must even go to the place of meeting and sleep there.'

So he rode off on his steed beyond the gates of the city, and, tying his horse to a tree he lay down to sleep peacefully. By and by the ogre came for its dinner, but hearing no noise, and seeing no one, it thought the townspeople had failed in their bargain, and prepared to revenge itself. But Ruby Prince jumped up, refreshed by slumber, and falling on the ogre, cut off its head and hands in a trice. These he stuck on the gate of the town, and returning to the old woman's house, told her he had killed the ogre, and lay down to sleep again.

Now when the townspeople saw the ogre's head and hands peering over the city gate, they thought the dreadful creature had come to revenge itself for some slight. Therefore they ran to the king in a great fright, and he, thinking the old woman, whose son was to have formed the ogre's dinner, must have played some trick, went with his officers to the place where she lived, and found her laughing and singing.

'Why do you laugh?' he asked sternly.

'I laugh because the ogre is killed!' she replied, 'and because the prince who killed it is sleeping in my house.'

Great was the astonishment at these words, yet, sure enough, when they came to examine more closely, they saw that the ogre's head and hands were those of a dead thing.

Then the king said, 'Show me this valiant prince who sleeps so soundly.'

And when he saw the handsome young stripling, he recognised him as the lad whom he had driven from the palace. Then he turned to his prime minister, and said, 'What reward should this youth have?'

And the prime minister answered at once, 'Your daughter in marriage, and half your kingdom, is not too high a reward for the service he has rendered!'

So Ruby Prince was married in great state to the king's fair daughter, and half the kingdom was given him to rule.

But the young bride, much as she loved her gallant husband, was vexed because she knew not who he was, and because the other women in the palace twitted her with having married a stranger, a man come from No-man's-land, whom none called brother.

So, day after day, she would ask her husband to tell her who he was and whence he came, and every day Ruby Prince would reply, 'Dear heart, ask me anything but that; for that you must not know!'

Yet still the princess begged, and prayed, and wept, and coaxed, until one day, when they were standing by the river side, she whispered, 'If you love me, tell me of what race you are!'

Now Ruby Prince's foot touched the water as he replied, 'Dear heart, anything but that; for that you must not know!'

Still the princess, imagining she saw signs of yielding in his face, said again, 'If you love me, tell me of what race you are!'

Then Ruby Prince stood knee-deep in the water, and his face was sad as he replied, 'Dear heart, anything but that; for that you must not know!'

Once again the wilful bride put her question, and Ruby Prince was waist-deep in the stream.

'Dear heart, anything but that!'

'Tell me! tell me!' cried the princess, and, lo! as she spoke, a jewelled snake with a golden crown and ruby star reared itself from the water, and with a sorrowful look towards her, disappeared beneath the wave.

Then the princess went home and wept bitterly, cursing her own curiosity, which had driven away her handsome, gallant young husband. She offered a reward of a bushel of gold to any one who would bring her any information about him; yet day after day passed, and still no news came, so that the princess grew pale with weeping salt tears. At last a dancing-woman, one of those who attend the women's festivals, came to the princess, and said, 'Last night I saw a strange thing. When I was out gathering sticks, I lay down to rest under a tree, and fell asleep. When I awoke it was light, neither daylight nor moonlight; and while I wondered, a sweeper came out from a snake-hole at the foot of the tree, and swept the ground with his broom; then followed a water-carrier, who sprinkled the ground with water; and after that two carpet-bearers, who spread costly rugs, and then disappeared. Even as I wondered what these preparations meant, a noise of music fell upon my ear, and from the snake-hole came forth a goodly procession of young men, glittering with jewels, and one in the midst, who seemed to be the king. Then, while the musicians played, one by one the young men rose and danced before the king. But one, who wore a red star on his forehead, danced but ill, and looked pale and wan. That is all I have to say.'

So the next night the princess went with the dancing-girl to the tree, where, hiding themselves behind the trunk, they waited to see what might happen.

Sure enough, after a while it became light that was neither sunlight nor moonlight; then the sweeper came forth and swept the ground, the water-carrier sprinkled it, the carpet-bearers placed the rugs, and last of all, to the sound of music the glittering procession swept out. How the princess's heart beat when, in the young prince with the red star, she recognised her dearest husband; and how it ached when she saw how pale he was, and how little he seemed to care to dance.

Then, when all had performed before the king, the light went out, and the princess crept home. Every night she would go to the tree and watch; but all day she would weep, because she seemed no nearer getting back her lover.

At last, one day, the dancing-girl said to her, 'O princess, I have hit upon a plan. The Snake-king is passionately fond of dancing, and yet it is only men who dance before him. Now, if a woman were to do so, who knows but he might be so pleased that he would grant her anything she asked? Let me try!'

'Nay,' replied the princess, 'I will learn of you and try myself.'

So the princess learnt to dance, and in an incredibly short time she far surpassed her teacher. Never before or since was such a graceful, charming, elegant dancer seen. Everything about her was perfection. Then she dressed herself in finest muslins and silver brocades, with diamonds on her veil, till she shone and sparkled like a star.

With beating heart she hid behind the tree and waited. The sweeper, the water-carrier, the carpet-bearers, came forth in turn, and then the glittering procession. Ruby Prince looked paler and sadder than ever, and when his turn came to dance, he hesitated, as if sick at heart; but from behind the tree stepped a veiled woman, clad in white, with jewels flashing, and danced before the king. Never was there such a dance!—everybody held their breath till it was done, and then the king cried aloud, 'O unknown dancer, ask what you will, and it shall be yours!'

'Give me the man for whom I danced!' replied the princess.

The Snake-king looked very fierce, and his eyes glittered, as he said, 'You have asked something you had no right to ask, and I should kill you were it not for my promise. Take him, and begone!'

Quick as thought, the princess seized Ruby Prince by the hand, dragged him beyond the circle, and fled.

After that they lived very happily, and though the women still taunted her, the princess held her tongue, and never again asked her husband of what race he came.

NOTES TO TALES

SIR BUZZ

Sir Buzz.—In the vernacular Mîyân Bhûngâ, which is Pânjabî for Sir Beetle or Sir Bee. The word is clearly connected with the common Aryan roots frem, bhran, bhah, bhin, to buzz as a bee or beetle.

Tigress.—Not otherwise described by the narrators than as a bhût, which is usually a malignant ghost, but here she is rather a benevolent fairy.

Span.—The word in the vernacular was hâth, the arm below the elbow, or conventionally half-a-yard, or 18 inches.

Hundredweight.—The word here is man, an Indian weight of about 80 Ibs.

Princess Blossom.—Bâdshâhzâdi Phûlî, Princess Flower, or Phûlâzâdî, Born-of-a-flower.

One-eyed Chief Constable.—Kotwál is the word used in the original; he is a very familiar figure in all oriental tales of Musalmân origin, and must have been one in actual mediæval oriental life, as he was the chief police (if such a term can be used with propriety) officer in all cities. The expression 'one-eyed' is introduced to show his evil nature, according to the well-known saying and universal belief—

Kânâ, kâchrâ, hoch-gardanâ: yeh tînon kamsât! Jablag has apnâ chale, to koî na pûchhe but.Wall-eyed, blear-eyed, wry-necked: these three are evil.While his own resources last none asketh them for help.

Vampire.-The word used was the Arabic ghûl (in English usually ghowl or ghoul), the vampire, man-devouring demon, which corresponds to the bhût and pret, the malignant ghosts of the Hindus. It may be noted here that the Persian ghol is the loup-garou of Europe, the man-devouring demon of the woods.

King Indar or Indra—Was originally the beneficent god of heaven, giver of rain, etc., but in the later Hindu mythology he took only second rank as ruler of the celestial beings who form the Court of Indra (Indar kâ akhârâ or Indrâsan Sabhâ), synonymous with gaiety of life and licentiousness.

THE RAT'S WEDDING

Pipkin—Gharâ, the common round earthen pot of India, known to Anglo-Indians as 'chatty' (châtî).

Quarts of milk—The vernacular word was ser, a weight of 2 lbs.; natives always measure liquids by weight, not by capacity.

Wild plum-tree—Ber, several trees go by this name, but the species usually meant are (1) the Zizyphus jujuba, which is generally a garden tree bearing large plum-like fruit: this is the Pomum adami of Marco Polo; (2) the Zizyphus nummularia, often confounded with the camel-thorn, a valuable bush used for hedges, bearing a small edible fruit. The former is probably meant here.—See Stewart's Punjab Plants, pp. 43-44.

Millet—Pennisetum italicum, a very small grain.

Green plums I sell, etc.—The words are—

Gaderî gader! gaderî gader!  Râjâ dî betî chûhâ le giâ gher.Green fruit! green fruit!The rat has encompassed the Râjâ's daughter.

Stool—Pîrhî, a small, low, square stool with a straight upright back, used by native women.

Stewpan-lid—Sarposh, usually the iron or copper cover used to cover degchîs or cooking-pots.

THE FAITHFUL PRINCE

Bahrâmgor—This tale is a variant in a way of a popular story published in the Panjâb in various forms in the vernacular, under the title of the Story of Bahrâmgor and the Fairy Hasan Bâno. The person meant is no doubt Bahrâmgor, the Sassanian King of Persia, known to the Greeks as Varanes V., who reigned 420-438 A.D. The modern stories, highly coloured with local folklore, represent the well-known tale in India—through the Persian—of Bahrâmgor and Dilârâm. Bahrâmgor was said to have been killed while hunting the wild ass (gor), by jumping into a pool after it, when both quarry and huntsman disappeared for ever. He is said to be the father of Persian poetry.

Demons: Demonsland.—The words used are deo or dev and deostân; here the deo is a malicious spirit by nature.

Jasdrûl.—It is difficult to say who this can be, unless the name be a corruption of Jasrat Râî, through Râwal (rûl) = Râo = Râî; thus Jasrat Râî = Jasrat Râwal = Jasad Rawal = Jasadrûl. If this be the case, it stands for Dasaratha, the father of Râma Chandra, and so vicariously a great personage in Hindu story. It is obvious that in giving names to demons or fairies the name of any legendary or fabulous personage of fame will be brought under contribution.

Shâhpasand.—This is obviously a fancy name, like its prototype Dilaram (Heart's Ease), and means King's Delight. The variant Hasan Bano means the Lady of Beauty. In the Pushto version of probably the original story the name is Gulandama = Rosa, a variant probably of the Flower Princess. See Plowden's Translation of the Kalid-i-Afghâní, p. 209 ff.

Chief Constable.—See note to Sir Buzz, ante.

Emerald Mountain.—Koh-i-Zamurrad in the original. The whole story of Bahrâmgor is mixed up with the 'King of China,' and so it is possible that the legendary fame of the celebrated Green Mount in the Winter Palace at Pekin is referred to here (see Yule's Marco Polo, vol. i. pp. 326-327 and 330). It is much more probable, however, that the legends which are echoed here are local variants or memories of the tale of the Old Man of the Mountain and the Assassins, so famous in many a story in Europe and Asia in the Middle Ages, e.g. The Romans of Bauduin de Sebourg, where the lovely Ivorine is the heroine of the Red Mountain, and which has a general family likeness to this tale worth observing (see on this point generally Yule's Marco Polo, vol. i. pp. cxliv-cli and 132-140, and the notes to Ind. Ant. vol. xi. p. 285 ff.; which last, though treated as superseded here, may serve to throw light on the subject). It is evident that we are here treading on very interesting ground, alive with many memories of the East, which it would be well worth while to investigate.

Nûnak Chand.—Judging by the analogy of the name Nânaksâ (sic) in Indian Fairy Tales, pp. 114 ff. and 276, where Nânaksâ, obviously Nânak Shâh or Bâbâ Nânak, the founder of the Sikh religion, ob. 1538 A.D., is turned into a wonder-working faqîr of the ordinary sort, it is a fair guess to say that this name is meant for him too.

Safed.—On the whole it is worth while hazarding that this name is a corruption, or rather, an adaptation to a common word—safed, white—of the name Saifur for the demon in the older legends of Bahrâmgor. If so, it occurs there in connection with the universal oriental name Faghfûr, for the Emperor of China. Yule, Marco Polo, vol. ii. p. 110, points out that Faghfûr = Baghbûr = Bagh Pûr, a Persian translation of the Chinese title Tien-tse, Son of Heaven, just as the name or title Shâh Pûr = the Son of the King. Perhaps this Saifûr in the same way = Shâh Pûr. But see note in Ind. Ant. vol. xi. p. 288.

Antimony.—Black sulphuret of antimony, used for pencilling the eyes and beautifying them. There are two preparations for darkening the eyes—surma and kâjal. Kâjal is fine lamp-black, but the difference between its use and that of surma is that the former is used for making a blot to avoid the evil eye (na*ar) and the latter merely as a beautifier.

Yech-cap.—For a detailed account of the yech or yâch of Kashmîr see Ind. Ant. vol. xi. pp. 260-261 and footnotes. Shortly, it is a humorous though powerful sprite in the shape of an animal smaller than a cat, of a dark colour, with a white cap on its head. The feet are so small as to be almost invisible. When in this shape it has a peculiar cry—chot, chot, chû-û-ot, chot. All this probably refers to some night animal of the squirrel (? civet cat) tribe. It can assume any shape, and, if its white cap can be got possession of, it becomes the servant of the possessor. The cap renders the human wearer invisible. Mythologically speaking, the yech is the descendant of the classical Hindu yaksha, usually described as an inoffensive, harmless sprite, but also as a malignant imp.

The farther you climb the higher it grows.—This is evidently borrowed from the common phenomenon of ridge beyond ridge, each in turn deceiving the climber into the belief that he has reached the top.

THE BEAR'S BAD BARGAIN

Khichrî.—A dish of rice and pulse (dâl).

The weights the bear carries.—These are palpable exaggerations; thus in India the regulation camel-load is under 3 cwts., but they will carry up to 5 cwts. A strong hill-man in the Himâlayas will carry 1/2 cwt., and on occasion almost a whole cwt. up the hill.

PRINCE LIONHEART

Lionheart.—The full vernacular title of this Prince was Sherdil Shahryâr Shahrâbâd, Lionheart, the Friend and Restorer of the City. All these names are common titles of oriental monarchs.

Knifegrinder, Blacksmith, Carpenter.—In the vernacular sânwâlâ, lohár, tarkhân. The first in the East, like his brother in the West, is an itinerant journeyman, who wanders about with a wheel for grinding.

Demon.—Here bhût, a malignant ghost or vampire, but as his doings in the tale correspond more to those of a deo, demon, than of a bhût, the word has been translated by 'demon.'

Pîpal.—Constantly occurring in folk-tales, is the Ficus religiosa of botanists, and a large fig-tree much valued for its shade. It is sacred to Hindus, and never cut by them. One reason perhaps may be that its shade is very valuable and its wood valueless. Its leaves are used in divination to find out witches, thieves, liars, etc., and it is the chosen haunt of ghosts and hobgoblins of all sorts—hence its frequent appearance in folk-lore.

Mannikin.—The word used was the ordinary expression maddhrâ, Panjâbî for a dwarf or pigmy.

Ghost.—Churel, properly the ghost of a woman who dies in childbirth. The belief in these malignant spirits is universal, and a source of much terror to natives by night. Their personal appearance is fairly described in the text: very ugly and black, breastless, protruding in stomach and navel, and feet turned back. This last is the real test of a churel, even in her beautiful transformation. A detailed account of the churel and beliefs in her and the methods of exorcism will be found in the Calcutta Review, No. cliii. p. 180 ff.

Jinn.—A Muhammadan spirit, properly neither man, angel, nor devil, but superhuman. According to correct Muhammadan tradition, there are five classes of Jinns worth noting here for information—Jânn, Jinn, Shaitân, 'Ifrît, and Mârid. They are all mentioned in Musalmân folk-tales, and but seldom distinguished in annotations. In genuine Indian folk-tales, however, the character ascribed to the Jinn, as here, has been borrowed from the Rakshasa, which is Hindu in origin, and an ogre in every sense of the European word.

Smell of a man.—The expression used is always in the vernacular mânushgandh, i.e. man-smell. The direct Sanskrit descent of the compound is worthy of remark.

Starling.—Mainâ: the Gracula religiosa, a talking bird, much valued, and held sacred. It very frequently appears in folk-tales, like the parrot, probably from being so often domesticated by people of means and position for its talking qualities.

Cup.—Donâ, a cup made of leaves, used by the very poor as a receptacle for food.

Wise woman.—Kutnî and paphe-kutnî were the words used, of which perhaps 'wise woman' is the best rendering. Kutnî is always a term of abuse and reproach, and is used in the sense of witch or wise woman, but the bearers do not seem to possess, as a rule, any supernatural powers. Hag, harridan, or any similar term will usually correctly render the word.