by Ruskin Bond
The idiot made this promise very willingly, and together they journeyed until they reached a large city.
Before they entered the city, the ghost said, ‘Now listen, brother. If you follow my advice, your fortune is made. In this city there are two very beautiful girls, one the daughter of a king and the other the daughter of a rich money-lender. I will go and possess the daughter of the king, and when he finds her possessed by a spirit he will try every sort of remedy but with no effect. Meanwhile you must walk daily through the streets in the dress of a Sadhu—one who has renounced the world—and when the king comes and asks you if you can cure his daughter, undertake to do so and make your own terms. As soon as I see you, I shall leave the girl. Then I shall go and possess the daughter of the money-lender. But do not go near her, because I am in love with the girl and do not intend giving her up! If you come near her, I shall break your neck.’
The ghost went off on his whirlwind, while the idiot entered the city on his own and found a bed at the local inn for pilgrims. The following day everyone in the city was agog with the news that the king’s daughter was dangerously ill. Physicians of all sorts came and went, and all pronounced the girl incurable. The king was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. He offered half his fortune to anyone who could cure his beautiful and only child. The idiot, having smeared himself with dust and ashes like a Sadhu, began walking the streets, reciting religious verses.
The people were struck by the idiot’s appearance. They took him for a wise and holy man, and reported him to the king, who immediately came into the city, prostrated himself before the idiot, and begged him to cure his daughter. After a show of modesty and reluctance, the idiot was persuaded to accompany the king back to the palace, and the girl was brought before him. Her hair was dishevelled, her teeth were chattering, and her eyes almost starting from their sockets. She howled and cursed and tore at her clothes. The idiot confronted her and recited a few meaningless spells. And the ghost, recognising him, cried out in terror; ‘I’m going, I’m going! I’m on my way!’ ‘Give me a sign that you have gone,’ demanded the idiot. ‘As soon as I leave the girl,’ said the ghost, ‘you will see that mango tree uprooted. That is the sign I’ll give.’
A few minutes later the mango tree came crashing down. The girl recovered from her fit and seemed unaware of what had happened. The news of her miraculous cure spread through the city, and the idiot became an object of veneration and wonder. The king kept his word and gave him half his fortune; and so began a period of happiness and prosperity for the idiot.
A few weeks later the ghost took possession of the moneylender’s daughter, with whom he was in love. Seeing his daughter take leave of her senses, the money-lender sent for the highly respected idiot and offered him a great sum of money to cure his daughter. But remembering the ghost’s warning, the idiot refused. The money-lender was enraged and sent his henchmen to bring the idiot to him by force; and the idiot was dragged along to the rich man’s house.
As soon as the ghost saw his old companion, he cried out in a rage: ‘Idiot, why have you broken our agreement and come here? Now I will have to break your neck!’
But the idiot, whose reputation for wisdom had actually helped to make his wiser, said, ‘Brother ghost I have not come to trouble you but to tell you a terrible piece of news. Old friend and protector, we must leave this city soon. SHE has come here—my dreaded wife!—to torment us both, and to drag us back to the village. She is on her way and will be here any minute!’
When the ghost heard this, he cried out, ‘Oh no, oh no! If SHE has come, then we must go!’
And breaking down the walls and doors of the house, the ghost gathered himself up into a little whirlwind and went scurrying out of the city to look for a vacant peepul tree.
The money-lender, delighted that his daughter had been freed of the evil influence, embraced the idiot and showered presents on him. And in due course the idiot married the money-lender’s beautiful daughter, inherited his wealth and debtors, and became the richest and most successful money-lender in the city.
The Wicked Guru
A certain king of the South had a beautiful daughter.
When she had reached a marriageable age, the king spoke to his Guru (spiritual teacher) and said: ‘Tell me, O Guru, by the stars the auspicious day for my daughter’s marriage.’
But the Guru had become enamoured of the girl’s beauty, and he answered with guile, ‘It will be wrong to celebrate your daughter’s marriage at this time. It will bring evil on both of you. Instead, adorn her with thirty-six ornaments and clothe her in the finest of her garments, cover her with flowers and sprinkle her with perfumes, and then set her in a spacious box afloat on the waters of the ocean.’
It was the time of Dwapara Yuga—the third age of the world—and the Guru had to be obeyed. So they did as he said, to the great sorrow of the king and all his subjects. The king asked the Guru to stay and comfort them, but he said he had to return at once to his sacred seat, and left for his own home some three days distant.
As soon as he reached his house, the Guru stocked it with gold and pearl and silver and coral and the finest of fabrics that women delight in, and called his three hundred and sixty disciples and said: ‘My children, go and search the ocean, and whoever finds floating on it a large box, bring it here, and do not come to me again until I summon you.’
They all scattered to do as they had been told.
Meanwhile, the king of a neighbouring country had gone hunting on the sea-shore, where he had wounded a bear in the leg. The wounded bear limped about and gave vent to short savage grunts. As the king looked out to sea, he saw a box floating on the crests of the waves. He was quite a young man, and, being an expert swimmer, he soon brought the box ashore. Great was his surprise and joy to find that it contained a beautiful girl adorned as a bride.
He put the lame bear into the box and set it afloat once again. Then he hurried home with his prize. The girl was only too glad to marry her deliverer, and a great wedding took place.
All this time the Guru’s disciples were searching for the box, and when one of them found it floating near the shore he duly brought it to the Guru, and then disappeared as he had been told. The Guru was delighted. He prepared sweets and fruits and flowers and scents. He closed all the doors of his chamber. He could hardly contain himself as he opened the box.
As soon as the box was open, out jumped the bear, savage and hungry and at war with all human-beings because of the treatment he had received. He seized the Guru in a bear-hug and then tore out his throat.
Feeling his life ebbing, the Guru dipped his finger in his own blood and wrote this Sloka:
Man’s desires are not fulfilled.
The God’s desires prevail.
The king’s daughter is in the king’s palace.
The bear has eaten the priest.
When the Guru failed to send for his disciples, they went together to his house, where, on breaking open his chamber-door, they found his body. The Guru’s murder appeared to be a mystery, until the king, who had been sent for, found the verses on the wall and had them translated by his scholars. One scholar proved that the bear could have escaped by means of a large drain that was found in the building.
Now it happened that this king was related to the neighbouring king who had found and married the princess in the box, and went to visit him.
‘How remarkably like my daughter,’ he remarked, on seeing his hostess.
‘Yes, the same daughter who was set afloat in a box,’ said the queen. But they were overjoyed to see each other again; and the king was especially pleased, because he had all along hoped that his daughter would marry the king-next-door.
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