Indian Fairy Tales (8 page)

Once upon a time, a tiger was caught in a trap. He tried in vain to get
out through the bars, and rolled and bit with rage and grief when he
failed.

By chance a poor Brahman came by. "Let me out of this cage, oh pious
one!" cried the tiger.

"Nay, my friend," replied the Brahman mildly, "you would probably eat
me if I did."

"Not at all!" swore the tiger with many oaths; "on the contrary, I
should be for ever grateful, and serve you as a slave!"

Now when the tiger sobbed and sighed and wept and swore, the pious
Brahman's heart softened, and at last he consented to open the door of
the cage. Out popped the tiger, and, seizing the poor man, cried, "What
a fool you are! What is to prevent my eating you now, for after being
cooped up so long I am just terribly hungry!"

In vain the Brahman pleaded for his life; the most he could gain was a
promise to abide by the decision of the first three things he chose to
question as to the justice of the tiger's action.

So the Brahman first asked a
pipal
tree what it thought of the
matter, but the
pipal
tree replied coldly, "What have you to
complain about? Don't I give shade and shelter to every one who passes
by, and don't they in return tear down my branches to feed their
cattle? Don't whimper—be a man!"

Then the Brahman, sad at heart, went further afield till he saw a
buffalo turning a well-wheel; but he fared no better from it, for it
answered, "You are a fool to expect gratitude! Look at me! Whilst I
gave milk they fed me on cotton-seed and oil-cake, but now I am dry
they yoke me here, and give me refuse as fodder!"

The Brahman, still more sad, asked the road to give him its opinion.

"My dear sir," said the road, "how foolish you are to expect anything
else! Here am I, useful to everybody, yet all, rich and poor, great and
small, trample on me as they go past, giving me nothing but the ashes
of their pipes and the husks of their grain!"

On this the Brahman turned back sorrowfully, and on the way he met a
jackal, who called out, "Why, what's the matter, Mr. Brahman? You look
as miserable as a fish out of water!"

The Brahman told him all that had occurred. "How very confusing!" said
the jackal, when the recital was ended; "would you mind telling me over
again, for everything has got so mixed up?"

The Brahman told it all over again, but the jackal shook his head in a
distracted sort of way, and still could not understand.

"It's very odd," said he, sadly, "but it all seems to go in at one ear
and out at the other! I will go to the place where it all happened, and
then perhaps I shall be able to give a judgment."

So they returned to the cage, by which the tiger was waiting for the
Brahman, and sharpening his teeth and claws.

"You've been away a long time!" growled the savage beast, "but now let
us begin our dinner."

"
Our
dinner!" thought the wretched Brahman, as his knees knocked
together with fright; "what a remarkably delicate way of putting it!"

"Give me five minutes, my lord!" he pleaded, "in order that I may
explain matters to the jackal here, who is somewhat slow in his wits."

The tiger consented, and the Brahman began the whole story over again,
not missing a single detail, and spinning as long a yarn as possible.

"Oh, my poor brain! oh, my poor brain!" cried the jackal, wringing its
paws. "Let me see! how did it all begin? You were in the cage, and the
tiger came walking by—"

"Pooh!" interrupted the tiger, "what a fool you are!
I
was in
the cage."

"Of course!" cried the jackal, pretending to tremble with fright; "yes!
I was in the cage—no I wasn't—dear! dear! where are my wits? Let me
see—the tiger was in the Brahman, and the cage came walking by—no,
that's not it, either! Well, don't mind me, but begin your dinner, for
I shall never understand!"

"Yes, you shall!" returned the tiger, in a rage at the jackal's
stupidity; "I'll
make
you understand! Look here—I am the
tiger—"

"Yes, my lord!"

"And that is the Brahman—"

"Yes, my lord!"

"And that is the cage—"

"Yes, my lord!"

"And I was in the cage—do you understand?"

"Yes—no—Please, my lord—"

"Well?" cried the tiger impatiently.

"Please, my lord!—how did you get in?"

"How!—why in the usual way, of course!"

"Oh, dear me!—my head is beginning to whirl again! Please don't be
angry, my lord, but what is the usual way?"

At this the tiger lost patience, and, jumping into the cage, cried,
"This way! Now do you understand how it was?"

"Perfectly!" grinned the jackal, as he dexterously shut the door, "and
if you will permit me to say so, I think matters will remain as they
were!"

A soothsayer when on his deathbed wrote out the horoscope of his second
son, whose name was Gangazara, and bequeathed it to him as his only
property, leaving the whole of his estate to his eldest son. The second
son thought over the horoscope, and said to himself:

"Alas! am I born to this only in the world? The sayings of my father
never failed. I have seen them prove true to the last word while he was
living; and how has he fixed my horoscope! 'FROM MY BIRTH POVERTY!' Nor
is that my only fate. 'FOR TEN YEARS, IMPRISONMENT'—a fate harder than
poverty; and what comes next? 'DEATH ON THE SEA-SHORE'; which means
that I must die away from home, far from friends and relatives on a
sea-coast. Now comes the most curious part of the horoscope, that I am
to 'HAVE SOME HAPPINESS AFTERWARDS!' What this happiness is, is an
enigma to me."

Thus thought he, and after all the funeral obsequies of his father were
over, took leave of his elder brother, and started for Benares. He went
by the middle of the Deccan, avoiding both the coasts, and went on
journeying and journeying for weeks and months, till at last he reached
the Vindhya mountains. While passing that desert he had to journey for
a couple of days through a sandy plain, with no signs of life or
vegetation. The little store of provision with which he was provided
for a couple of days, at last was exhausted. The chombu, which he
carried always full, filling it with the sweet water from the flowing
rivulet or plenteous tank, he had exhausted in the heat of the desert.
There was not a morsel in his hand to eat; nor a drop of water to
drink. Turn his eyes wherever he might he found a vast desert, out of
which he saw no means of escape. Still he thought within himself,
"Surely my father's prophecy never proved untrue. I must survive this
calamity to find my death on some sea-coast." So thought he, and this
thought gave him strength of mind to walk fast and try to find a drop
of water somewhere to slake his dry throat.

At last he succeeded; heaven threw in his way a ruined well. He thought
he could collect some water if he let down his chombu with the string
that he always carried noosed to the neck of it. Accordingly he let it
down; it went some way and stopped, and the following words came from
the well: "Oh, relieve me! I am the king of tigers, dying here of
hunger. For the last three days I have had nothing. Fortune has sent
you here. If you assist me now you will find a sure help in me
throughout your life. Do not think that I am a beast of prey. When you
have become my deliverer I will never touch you. Pray, kindly lift me
up." Gangazara thought: "Shall I take him out or not? If I take him out
he may make me the first morsel of his hungry mouth. No; that he will
not do. For my father's prophecy never came untrue. I must die on a sea
coast, and not by a tiger." Thus thinking, he asked the tiger-king to
hold tight to the vessel, which he accordingly did, and he lifted him
up slowly. The tiger reached the top of the well and felt himself on
safe ground. True to his word, he did no harm to Gangazara. On the
other hand, he walked round his patron three times, and standing before
him, humbly spoke the following words: "My life-giver, my benefactor!
I shall never forget this day, when I regained my life through your
kind hands. In return for this kind assistance I pledge my oath to
stand by you in all calamities. Whenever you are in any difficulty
just think of me. I am there with you ready to oblige you by all the
means that I can. To tell you briefly how I came in here: Three days
ago I was roaming in yonder forest, when I saw a goldsmith passing
through it. I chased him. He, finding it impossible to escape my claws,
jumped into this well, and is living to this moment in the very bottom
of it. I also jumped in, but found myself on the first ledge of the
well; he is on the last and fourth ledge. In the second lives a serpent
half-famished with hunger. On the third lies a rat, also half-famished,
and when you again begin to draw water these may request you first to
release them. In the same way the goldsmith also may ask you. I beg
you, as your bosom friend, never assist that wretched man, though he is
your relation as a human being. Goldsmiths are never to be trusted. You
can place more faith in me, a tiger, though I feast sometimes upon men,
in a serpent, whose sting makes your blood cold the very next moment,
or in a rat, which does a thousand pieces of mischief in your house.
But never trust a goldsmith. Do not release him; and if you do, you
shall surely repent of it one day or other." Thus advising, the hungry
tiger went away without waiting for an answer.

Gangazara thought several times of the eloquent way in which the tiger
spoke, and admired his fluency of speech. But still his thirst was not
quenched. So he let down his vessel again, which was now caught hold of
by the serpent, who addressed him thus: "Oh, my protector! Lift me up.
I am the king of serpents, and the son of Adisesha, who is now pining
away in agony for my disappearance. Release me now. I shall ever remain
your servant, remember your assistance, and help you throughout life in
all possible ways. Oblige me: I am dying." Gangazara, calling again to
mind the "DEATH ON THE SEA-SHORE" of the prophecy lifted him up. He,
like the tiger-king, walked round him thrice, and prostrating himself
before him spoke thus: "Oh, my life-giver, my father, for so I must
call you, as you have given me another birth. I was three days ago
basking myself in the morning sun, when I saw a rat running before me.
I chased him. He fell into this well. I followed him, but instead of
falling on the third storey where he is now lying, I fell into the
second. I am going away now to see my father. Whenever you are in any
difficulty just think of me. I will be there by your side to assist you
by all possible means." So saying, the Nagaraja glided away in zigzag
movements, and was out of sight in a moment.

The poor son of the Soothsayer, who was now almost dying of thirst, let
down his vessel for a third time. The rat caught hold of it, and
without discussing he lifted up the poor animal at once. But it would
not go away without showing its gratitude: "Oh, life of my life! My
benefactor! I am the king of rats. Whenever you are in any calamity
just think of me. I will come to you, and assist you. My keen ears
overheard all that the tiger-king told you about the goldsmith, who is
in the fourth storey. It is nothing but a sad truth that goldsmiths
ought never to be trusted. Therefore, never assist him as you have done
to us all. And if you do, you will suffer for it. I am hungry; let me
go for the present." Thus taking leave of his benefactor, the rat, too,
ran away.

Gangazara for a while thought upon the repeated advice given by the
three animals about releasing the goldsmith: "What wrong would there be
in my assisting him? Why should I not release him also?" So thinking to
himself, Gangazara let down the vessel again. The goldsmith caught hold
of it, and demanded help. The Soothsayer's son had no time to lose; he
was himself dying of thirst.

Therefore he lifted the goldsmith up, who now began his story. "Stop
for a while," said Gangazara, and after quenching his thirst by letting
down his vessel for the fifth time, still fearing that some one might
remain in the well and demand his assistance, he listened to the
goldsmith, who began as follows: "My dear friend, my protector, what a
deal of nonsense these brutes have been talking to you about me; I am
glad you have not followed their advice. I am just now dying of hunger.
Permit me to go away. My name is Manikkasari. I live in the East main
street of Ujjaini, which is twenty kas to the south of this place, and
so lies on your way when you return from Benares. Do not forget to come
to me and receive my kind remembrances of your assistance, on your way
back to your country." So saying, the goldsmith took his leave, and
Gangazara also pursued his way north after the above adventures.

He reached Benares, and lived there for more than ten years, and quite
forgot the tiger, serpent, rat, and goldsmith. After ten years of
religious life, thoughts of home and of his brother rushed into his
mind. "I have secured enough merit now by my religious observances. Let
me return home." Thus thought Gangazara within himself, and very soon
he was on his way back to his country. Remembering the prophecy of his
father he returned by the same way by which he went to Benares ten
years before. While thus retracing his steps he reached the ruined well
where he had released the three brute kings and the gold smith. At once
the old recollections rushed into his mind, and he thought of the tiger
to test his fidelity. Only a moment passed, and the tiger-king came
running before him carrying a large crown in his mouth, the glitter of
the diamonds of which for a time outshone even the bright rays of the
sun. He dropped the crown at his life-giver's feet, and, putting aside
all his pride, humbled himself like a pet cat to the strokes of his
protector, and began in the following words: "My life-giver! How is it
that you have forgotten me, your poor servant, for such a long time? I
am glad to find that I still occupy a corner in your mind. I can never
forget the day when I owed my life to your lotus hands. I have several
jewels with me of little value. This crown, being the best of all, I
have brought here as a single ornament of great value, which you can
carry with you and dispose of in your own country." Gangazara looked at
the crown, examined it over and over, counted and recounted the gems,
and thought within himself that he would become the richest of men by
separating the diamonds and gold, and selling them in his own country.
He took leave of the tiger-king, and after his disappearance thought of
the kings of serpents and rats, who came in their turn with their
presents, and after the usual greetings and exchange of words took
their leave. Gangazara was extremely delighted at the faithfulness with
which the brute beasts behaved, and went on his way to the south. While
going along he spoke to himself thus: "These beasts have been very
faithful in their assistance. Much more, therefore, must Manikkasari be
faithful. I do not want anything from him now. If I take this crown
with me as it is, it occupies much space in my bundle. It may also
excite the curiosity of some robbers on the way. I will go now to
Ujjaini on my way. Manikkasari requested me to see him without failure
on my return journey. I shall do so, and request him to have the crown
melted, the diamonds and gold separated. He must do that kindness at
least for me. I shall then roll up these diamonds and gold ball in my
rags, and wend my way homewards." Thus thinking and thinking, he
reached Ujjaini. At once he inquired for the house of his goldsmith
friend, and found him without difficulty. Manikkasari was extremely
delighted to find on his threshold him who ten years before,
notwithstanding the advice repeatedly given him by the sage-looking
tiger, serpent, and rat, had relieved him from the pit of death.
Gangazara at once showed him the crown that he received from the tiger-
king, told him how he got it, and requested his kind assistance to
separate the gold and diamonds. Manikkasari agreed to do so, and
meanwhile asked his friend to rest himself for a while to have his bath
and meals; and Gangazara, who was very observant of his religious
ceremonies, went direct to the river to bathe.