by Ruskin Bond
'I am glad you have come this way,' the Brahman said. 'Tarry with me and let us converse together. It is many years since I met with a man of such great intelligence.'
Said Jivaka: 'I must walk to the nearest inn, because I wish to purchase the wood that the thin man is carrying.'
'Why do you wish to purchase it?' the Brahman asked.
'Come with me and you will know.'
The Brahman walked with Jivaka towards the inn, and when they reached it they saw the thin man sitting in front of it. He was very poor, and was waiting for someone to offer him food.
Jivaka spoke to the man, saying: 'Will you sell the wood you have been carrying?'
'Yes, master,' answered the beggar.
'Name your price, then.'
The man named his price, and Jivaka paid it, although the Brahman thought it far too high.
Jivaka carried the wood back to the Brahman's hut, and examined each piece very carefully. Then he split one piece and took out a green jewel. 'At last I have found it,' he said. 'I knew by the dust that fell from the bark that the thin man had found and cut down the tree I had been searching for.'
The Brahman was greatly surprised. 'What jewel is this?' he asked.
Said Jivaka: 'He who possesses it will become a great physician. When it is placed near a sick man it will shine like a lamp and reveal what malady he is suffering from.'
'I should like to see it tested,' the Brahman said.
He had not long to wait, for soon afterwards a beggar came along the road wailing and beating his head.
'What ails you, poor man?' asked the Brahman.
'Alas! O master, my head pains me as if someone were stabbing it with a dagger.'
Said Jivaka: 'Allow me to examine your head.'
The beggar sat down, and Jivaka placed the green jewel on his head. Then he said: 'A centipede has crawled in through your ear, and is eating its way through to your brain.'
'Oh, cure me, master!' cried the beggar.
Jivaka made the man dig a hole and go into it. The earth was then heaped up to his neck, so that he could not move. When this was done, Jivaka opened his skull, and, seizing the centipede with pincers, took it out. Then he closed the skull, put healing herbs on the wound, and bandaged the man's head. When the beggar was taken out of the hole, and given food to eat, he said that his pain had gone. He thanked Jivaka, and went on his way.
'If the king hears of your skill,' said the Brahman, 'he will appoint you his chief physician.'
He had hardly spoken the words when the soldiers who had arrested the thief came hastily towards his hut. The chief sentinel spoke to Jivaka, saying: 'His Majesty the king, having heard from me of your wonderful powers of observation, desires to see you and converse with you. Come with us now to the palace.'
'Very well,' Jivaka answered, 'I shall go.'
He bade farewell to the Brahman, who was grieved to part with him, and went to the palace with the soldiers.
Now the king suffered from a tumour which grew out of his head, and his physicians were unable to deal with it. When Jivaka was brought before him, he said: 'Have you knowledge of the art of healing?'
Jivaka bowed, and said that he had. He spoke in a strange voice, because he perceived that the king, his father, did not recognise him.
First of all Jivaka prepared a ripening poultice, which caused the tumour to grow larger. Then he used the green jewel, and saw that he could deal with the tumour without further delay. He asked the king to go into his bath. When His Majesty did so, Jivaka poured many jugfuls of hot water, in which herbs had been soaked, over the tumour. Then he touched the tumour with his lancet, and poured more water over it, until the tumour emptied itself. The king felt no pain, and did not know that the lancet had been used.
Next Jivaka applied healing herbs, which caused the wound to close quickly and become quite whole.
'Now feel your head,' Jivaka said.
The king passed his hand over his head, and was greatly astonished to find that the tumour had been taken away. He called for a mirror, but although he looked closely into it he was unable to find the exact spot where the tumour had been.
After the king had partaken of a meal, he called his ministers together, and said: 'See, the young physician has cured me. I shall appoint him chief physician.'
Jivaka was called before the king, who spoke to him, saying: 'I appoint you my chief physician, O honourable young man. I shall also reward you because of the help you gave to my soldiers, when they were searching for the thief who stole my precious jewel. I pray you, tell me who you are and whence you come, and how you have become so learned a man, although still quite young.'
Said Jivaka: 'O King, I have become a learned man because I have obeyed the command of my father. He told me to travel through the world alone in search of wisdom. He bade me observe everything and use my intelligence.'
'Who is your father?' asked the king.
Jivaka prostrated himself at His Majesty's feet, and said: 'Behold! O King, I am your son, Jivaka.'
The king was overcome with joy. He raised his son and embraced him, and said: 'This is indeed a happy day, for once more I hold in my arms the son of my heart, whom I have long yearned for.'
Jivaka was appointed the king's chief minister as well as his chief physician, and he lived happily ever afterwards, beloved and admired by all.
SINDBAD THE SAILOR
A Tale from the Thousand and One Nights
O King of the Age, as thou biddest me re-tell the strangest adventure of Sindbad the Sailor in all his marvellous voyages, I will name it without hesitation: it is that of Sindbad's fifth voyage, wherein he was in fearful peril from that great bird, the rukh, and afterwards was ridden almost to the point of death by the Old Man of the Sea.
But first let me call to thy recollection how Sindbad the Sailor came to tell his story to Sindbad the Landsman, for herein lies much meaning, O King.
In the time of the Caliph Harun-er-Rashid, in the palmy days of Baghdad, there lived and slaved a poor, discontented porter, whose moments of rest and leisure were most pleasantly occupied in grumbling at his hard lot. Others lived in luxury and splendour while he bore heavy burdens for a pittance. There was no justice in the world, said he, when some were born in the lap of wealth, and others toiled a lifetime for the price of a decent burial.
This discontented porter would run apace with his burden to gain time for a rest upon the doorstep of some mansion of the rich, where, a master in contrasts, he would draw comparisons between his own lot and that of the rich man dwelling within. Loudly would he call on Destiny to mark the disparity, the incongruity, the injustice of the thing; and not until he had drunk deep at the fountain of discontent would he take up his burden and trudge on, greatly refreshed.
One day, in pursuance of this strange mode of recreation, he chanced to select the doorstep of a wealthy merchant named Sindbad the Sailor, and there, through the open window, he heard as it were the chink of endless gold. The song, the music, the dance, the laughter of the guests—all seemed to shine with the light of jewels and the lustre of golden bars. Immediately he began to revel in his favourite woe. He wrung his hands and cried aloud: 'Allah! Can such things be? Look on me, toiling all day for a piece of barley bread; and then look on him who knows no toil, yet eateth peacocks' tongues from golden dishes, and drinketh the wine of Paradise from a jewelled cup. What hath he done to obtain from thee a lot so agreeable? And what have I done to deserve a life so wretched?'
As one who flings back a difficult question, and then bangs the door behind him, so the porter rose and shouldered his burden to continue his way, when a servant came running from within, saying that his master had sharp ears and had invited the porter into his presence for a fuller hearing of his woes.
As soon as the porter came before the wealthy owner of the house, seated among his guests and surrounded by the utmost luxury and magnificence, he was greeted with the question: 'What is thy name?' 'My name is Sindbad,' replied
the porter, greatly abashed. At this the host clapped his hands and laughed loudly. 'Knowest thou that my name is also Sindbad?' he cried. 'But I am Sindbad the Sailor, and I have a mind to call thee Sindbad the Landsman, for, as thou lovest a contrast, so do I.'
'True,' said the porter, 'I have never been upon the sea.'
'Then, Sindbad the Landsman,' was the quick rejoinder, 'thou hast no right to complain of thy hard lot. Come, be seated, and, when thou hast refreshed thyself with food and wine, I will relate to thee what at present I have told no man—the tale of my perils and hardships on the seas and in other lands—in order to show you that the great wealth I possess was not acquired without excessive toil and terrible danger. I have made seven voyages: the first thou shalt hear presently—nay, if thou wilt accept my hospitality for seven days, I will tell thee the history of one each day.'
Thus it was, O King, that Sindbad the Sailor, surrounded by a multitude of listeners, came to tell the story of his voyages to Sindbad the Landsman. Now on the fifth day he spoke as follows:
Having sworn that my fourth voyage should be my last, I dwelt in the bosom of my family for many months in the utmost joy and happiness. But soon my heart grew restless in my bosom, and I longed again for the perils of the sea, and the adventures found only in other lands. Moreover, I had become inspired of a new ambition to possess a ship of my own in which to sail afar, and even to greater profit than on my former voyages.
I arose, therefore, and gathered together in Baghdad many bales of rich merchandise, and departed for the city of El-Basrah, where, in the river's mouth, I soon selected a splendid vessel. I purchased this and secured a master and a crew, over whom I set my own trusty servants. Then, together with a goodly company of merchants as passengers, their bales and mine being placed in the hold, I set sail.
Fair weather favoured us as we passed from island to island, bartering everywhere for gain, as merchants do, until at length we came to an island which seemed never to have known the fretful heel of man. Here we landed, and, almost immediately, on sweeping our gaze over the interior, we espied a strange thing, on which all our attention and wonder soon became centred.
There in the distance shone beneath the sun a great white dome. Loud was the talk among us as to the meaning of this. Some said the island could not be uninhabited since a mosque was built upon it; others contended that, as the island was uninhabited, the structure could not be a mosque. A third party, cooling their minds in the shade of the trees, preferred idly that it was probably some huge white rock smoothed and rounded by wind and weather; yet even these, when the discussion became heated, were constrained by curiosity to follow as we bent our steps inland to discover what this strange object really was.
As we drew nearer and nearer, the wind-and-weather merchants lost in countenance what they gained in speed, for the mystery deepened: it was very clear that no mere wind and weather could have fashioned such a perfect, glistening dome. Nearer still, and then we all ran our utmost, and arrived breathless at the base of the marvellous structure. Gigantic and perfect in form, this must be some wonderful dome built to the glory of Allah, and fashioned in such a way that, with its lower half embedded in earth and its upper half rising in the air, it typified at once the division and the union of heaven and earth. A learned merchant of our company—one who had travelled greatly in the further realms of Ind—raised his voice and assured us that the object represented the mysterious Hiranyagarbha—the Egg of All Things; whereupon another, to test this theory in derision, struck violently with his hatchet upon the shell of this supposed egg. 'If this be the egg of Hiranya—something,' he shouted, 'let us get to the yolk!'
Following his words, and his blow, the strangest thing happened. The great dome seemed to shake itself as if something within it had awakened to life. We stood in awe and waited. Then, as a chicken comes forth out of its shell, there came forth, with a terrific rending of the dome, a mighty fledgling having the aspect of that monstrous bird, the rukh, which, when grown, darkens the sky with its wings.
'It is indeed the young of the rukh,' I cried, for well I knew the bird. 'Beware!'
At first we were terrified beyond measure, but soon some among us, seeing the helplessness of the creature, set upon it with their hatchets, and, though I pleaded with them to forbear, it was quickly slain and dismembered.
'Woe!' I cried. 'Ye have slain the offspring of the rukh, and, as the time of hatching was near, the parents will come, and there will be trouble.'
But they heeded my words so little that they roasted and ate the choicest parts of the young rukh and left the remains as a sign of contempt. I, who live to tell the tale, O Landsman, did not eat. In vain I entreated them to conceal all traces of their foul crime, even as they had concealed the choicest portions in their capacious stomachs. In vain I told them what I had learnt by costly peril at the hands of the giant rukh, foretelling the dire vengeance of those fierce monsters of the sky. Indeed, from the experiences of a former voyage, as you know, I had every reason to fear them. But the merchants, smacking their lips at the memory of their repast, laughed in my face. 'We have dined,' said they, 'and your fearsome rukhs cannot touch us.' To this I returned no word, but a stern face; for I knew the power of the rukh.
We returned towards the ship, but we had no sooner reached the seashore when we saw the master making signs of wild alarm. Shouting loudly to us to make all haste he pointed towards the horizon. He had sailed those seas before, and he knew, as did I, the sign of a terrible danger. There in the distance were two black clouds, growing rapidly larger.
'A storm!' cried some among us.
'Nay, nay,' I answered. 'I would it were, even a twofold storm. Storms come not so. Yonder come the rukh and his mate to attend the hatching of their young. Aboard! aboard! We may yet escape.'
As soon as I had given this warning there were hurry and scurry among the merchants. The flesh of the young rukh seemed to have turned within them, and it now cried out for vengeance. With all haste we made our way on board the ship.
'What have ye done?' cried the master in alarm.
They were silent.
'They have roasted and eaten the young of the rukh,' I said. The master wrung his hands and his face blanched. Then he sprang to action.
'All sail! All sail!' he cried out. 'Woe be on us if we escape not quickly. They know not yet, but when they learn they will rest not until—'
Instantly the crew leapt to the ropes, while the merchants stood around in terror, regarding the two black clouds as they drew rapidly towards us, side by side. Now they loomed nearer as monstrous birds, and presently they passed overhead, darkening the sky as they craned their gigantic necks and looked down upon us with suspicion.
With the utmost speed the ship was put upon her way, the while we watched the rukhs hover and settle inland. We were already speeding fast for the open sea when we saw them rise and circle in the air, heard their hoarse complaint and clamour for vengeance, and noted their swift swoop towards the rocky heights of the interior. We gave a sigh of relief. We thought we had escaped, so well did the breeze serve us; but we had forgotten, or did not yet know, the power of wings.
Soon there arose from the far heights of the island two gigantic shapes. As they moved towards us they grew bigger and bigger, and now we heard the beating of their wings, ever louder and louder on our ears. They were coming, the rukhs, to wreak vengeance; and, now we saw it with fear, in the talons of each was a granite crag torn from the bedrock of the island. Their purpose was as plain as it was terrible.
We cowered as they drew overhead. They circled round the ship, each clutching its mighty rock and giving forth cries of rage and fury. Now they hovered above us, and one let go his missile of destruction. Our steersman, bent on taking the vessel this way and then that, evaded the falling crag, which fell a caster's throw astern. The ship danced high on the mountain waves raised by the falling mass, and then fell as deep into the watery valleys between them. We thought our time had come, but
it was not yet, though it was soon to be. No sooner had we come to rest on a level tide than the other rukh hovered above us and dropped its crag. It struck the ship in the middle and split it to pieces.
In that moment all was a swirl of confusion. The crash of the rock, the cries of the giant birds, the wash of the waves on my ears—these were the last things I knew. It seems to me that I gripped some wreckage, and, lying thereupon in a swoon, was borne onwards by the tide to the shores of an island; for, when I awoke to life, I found myself on a sandy slope, with my head on the high-water mark and my feet against the stranded wreckage that had supported me.
As if from death's door I crawled up and away, gaining strength as I went, until I reached a point from which I could view the nature of the island. Allah! What a paradise it was! Streams of fresh, pure water wimpled down between banks where grew the lordliest trees laden with the rarest fruits. The sight gave me fresh strength. I rose and wandered from stream to stream, drinking the cool water and plucking and eating the delicious fruit. But, O Sindbad the Landsman, though I knew it not, there was a vile snake in this paradise, as I was soon to discover to my cost.
Coming at length to a stream of some width, I sat down upon a mossy bank with my back against a tree to watch the rippling current purling by. Lulled by this and the songs of the birds, I became drowsy and turned to find a soft bed on the moss, when I caught sight of an object which arrested my attention. There, sitting against the tree next to mine, was an aged man of comely and benevolent aspect.
I regarded him intently. What a kindly old man he looked, with his flowing silver locks and his ample white beard! The more did I consider him one of nature's innocent children from the fact that his body was clothed from the waist downwards with the green leaves of trees—a raiment neatly threaded together on the fibres of some plant. As I scrutinised his appearance intently for some moments, I felt that here was one of the simplest and kindliest dispositions, who knew not the meaning of wrong. I arose and advanced towards him, but, when I spoke, he shook his head sadly and sighed. Alas! was he deprived of the power of speech? To make certain, I saluted him, saying, 'Allah be with thee!' But he merely bowed his head, making no other reply. All my questions brought never a word: he was, indeed, dumb. But he could make intelligent signs, and I perceived by these that it was his greatest wish to be carried across the stream. Seeing that he was old and infirm as well as dumb, I readily consented. My heart was sorry for him, and I stooped down and told him to climb upon my shoulders. This he did with alacrity, and so I carried him over the stream.