The crowd got up on its feet and cheered.
Kans called out to his soldiers, ‘Get your swords. Kill those scoundrels. Rush in and kill them.’
But before the soldiers could move, Krishna jumped upon the dais and pulled Kans off the throne.
‘You evil man, your time has come. You killed all my sisters and now you will die a terrible death.’ Krishna picked Kans up with both his arms and hurled him against a wall.
That was the end of Kans.
Krishna freed his parents who were still in jail and his grandfather, who was still locked up in a dungeon.
‘Grandfather,’ he said, ‘the throne is yours. We know you will rule justly.’
‘As you will after me,’ the grandfather replied, tears rolling down his cheeks. ‘The people have, at last, been freed from tyranny.’
Starting just after the day of the full moon in September and continuing through the next two weeks, my family liked to remember all our relatives who had died. On my grandfather’s Moon Day, year after year, we prayed, fed our priests and ate mightily well ourselves. We thought of our grandfather and hoped that he might be thinking of us. My grandfather was the first man – the first human being – that I had watched dying. I had not actually seen him die. I remember with great guilt now that when a cousin came running to inform me that my grandfather was actually dead, I felt cheated. Cheated because I had missed the moment. I had not seen human life stop. He had been dying for months, you see. I had watched his six-foot-tall frame shrink while the skin around his bones became almost translucent. His arrogance kept him going. His arrogance and his brilliance. He was just too powerful to be sucked away. So he went on living, much longer than he probably should have.
I remember one still May evening. It was too hot to sleep indoors so cots with crisp white sheets had been laid out on the lawn. There must have been at least forty cots. We were a large family, what with cousins, aunts and uncles. All of us were uneasy because of Grandfather’s condition. An oxygen tent had been placed near his cot and all the elders were taking turns holding the oxygen mask to his face. Once, when it was my mother’s turn, she turned to me and said in a whisper, ‘Hold the mask. I have to go inside for a minute.’
I felt like a soldier that had been called to duty. I held the mask up to my grandfather’s mouth and nose without blinking or moving a muscle.
There must have been something about the position of my rigid hand that my grandfather did not care for. He lifted his very frail arm with great effort and gave my hand a gentle push.
In that one touch – that last touch – were all the moments I had shared with my grandfather. There was a time when I was five and he had dipped his finger into his glass of whisky-soda to give me my first lick of alcohol. There was the time when he had lifted me up to ride with him in his phaeton carriage. And there was the time when he was teaching me chess. He had put his hand on mine and helped me lift my Queen into the air. ‘Now knock the King down and say “checkmate”. You have won. Don’t you see, you have won.’
Doda and Dodi
Doda and Dodi were a brother and sister who loved each other very much. It so happened that Doda, together with his wife and children, was very rich and that Dodi, along with her husband and children, was very poor.
As September approached, Doda went to his wife and said, ‘O mother-of-my-children, I have decided to go to the holy city of Gaya on the tenth day of the moon as that is the Moon Day of my father’s death. I will feed the priests and pray there. I want you to be very generous here. Offer prayers, invite lots of priests and all the family and feed them with an open heart. Oh yes, by the way, please do not ignore my sister. She is … not so well off … so keep a watchful eye over her. She needs all the assistance we can give her. And when she and her family come here for my father’s Moon Day feast, make sure that they are well fed. In fact, give them lots of food to take home as well. They will not ask for it, knowing them, but I know that it would help their family a lot. Be nice to Dodi or I will be very upset.’
Saying this, the brother left a large bag of gold coins for his wife to use and set off for Gaya.
Doda’s wife happened to be a rather unpleasant person. She sat down and wrote out an invitation for Dodi. This is what she wrote:
In memory of your father
You and your family are cordially invited
Next Thursday
To attend his Moon Day festivities
Come only if all the roots shake
Do not come at all if the leaves shake.
Doda’s wife folded the note and handed it to a servant, saying, ‘Go and take this to Dodi’s hut and deliver it safely into her hands.’
Dodi did, indeed, live in a hut. It was small, but neat and clean, with every brass pot gleaming from years of painstaking scrubbing.
Dodi saw the servant from her brother’s house coming towards her hut. ‘Oh,’ she thought, ‘he must have the invitation for my father’s Moon Day festivities.’ She was so looking forward to going over. She had loved her father with the same devotion that she had for her brother. She would go early in the morning and help her sister-in-law grind the split peas and make the mounds of dough that would be needed for all the stuffed breads.
But when Dodi read her sister-in-law’s invitation, she was taken aback. ‘What on earth could she mean?’ Dodi said aloud. ‘What a strange invitation. Whatever she had in mind, only she knows. I’m going to go anyway.’
As soon as the first rays of the sun touched her hut, Dodi set out for her brother’s house, and there she slaved all morning in the kitchen. She moved the huge grinding stone back and forth until her arms ached. She must have rolled out and fried at least a thousand breads. Then, when the priests had to be fed while they sat in neat rows on the ground, she served them, with her back bent for hours at a time. When it was time for the family to eat, Dodi’s sister-in-law fed her own children but refused to offer even a morsel to Dodi or her family.
Dodi did not want to ask. No food was offered so she and her family just went hungry.
It was all very well for her husband and herself. They could bear it, but their children began to whimper and cry, ‘We are hungry, we are hungry.’
Now, since Dodi had been rolling out the breads, her hands were all sticky with dough. She called to her children, ‘I’m about to wash my hands of all the dough that is sticking to them. You catch the water as it comes out of the drain and drink it.’
What else could Dodi do? This is all she could offer her children.
Since she and her family were quite worn out, they all fell asleep on the floor.
In the middle of the night Dodi sat bolt upright. She was wide, wide awake and just so very hungry. Her sister-in-law’s household was still filled with all the lovely aromas of all the good foods that had been cooked and eaten that day. Dodi found herself walking towards the kitchen in the dark. There, in a covered container, with the moonlight gleaming on it, was a stack of delicious breads. Just one of them could satisfy her hunger and that of her family. She opened the container, stretched out her hand and stopped.
Her sister-in-law did not want her to eat those breads. It would be stealing. But nobody was watching. Perhaps she could take one for her family. Just then, she looked out of the window. How wrong of her to think that no one was watching. The Moon God was watching – silent as ever.
She could not do it. She closed the bread container and went back to her sleeping family. She shook them awake. ‘Come on, get up, get up, let us go home. It’s time to go home.’
‘We are so hungry,’ cried her children.
‘I will get you some food when we are home,’ Dodi said to them.
But there was no food at home, either.
‘We are hungry,’ said the children. ‘Please feed us.’
‘Soon, soon,’ answered Dodi.
‘How can you feed us soon?’ asked the children, ‘We have not seen you cooking anything.’
‘I am just about to
start,’ said Dodi.
Saying this, Dodi put a few stones in a brass pot, covered it up, and set it on the stove.
The family were so weak and weary that they fell asleep again.
Again, Dodi woke up with a start. She had been dreaming that her house was filled with the delicious aroma of rice pudding. She was about to shut her eyes again when the children started crying, ‘We smell rice pudding. We are hungry. We are hungry.’
Dodi felt she had better go to the pot on the stove and shake it around. That might console the children. But when she went to the pot she found a fire under it, and steam coming out from the top.
Inside there was indeed a rice pudding.
It was her father who was responsible. He had been watching from heaven and had seen how hard his daughter had worked that day. He had decided to lend a hand. Not only was there rice pudding in the pot, but breads and vegetables and split peas, arranged around the kitchen all cooked and ready. The hut had been transformed into a stately mansion. There were pouches everywhere filled with gold coins and jewellery. There were cases of gold necklaces, bracelets, earrings, nose-rings and toe-rings.
Dodi was delighted. She fed her family, cleaned up the pots, and then settled for a well-deserved rest.
Meanwhile, something very strange was happening in Gaya. When Doda stooped to offer water to the priests, he found that he was pouring out blood.
The priests moved back, saying, ‘What kind of charity is this? You come to offer us food and water, and then give us blood!’
Doda stopped short, horrified. It did not take him long to understand.
Something was wrong at home. It must be his wife, who he knew was often unkind to Dodi. His wife had probably mistreated her.
The brother immediately began his journey back home. Meanwhile, Dodi, now comfortably rich, decided to invite her sister-in-law to dinner. So she wrote out a note saying:
In memory of my father
I would like to invite you and your children
To dinner
Tomorrow.
She sent off her eldest son with the note.
When Dodi’s sister-in-law received it, she laughed.
‘So, she is going to entertain in her hut, is she? I shall make a laughing stock of her.’
Just before she went to the dinner, she picked up the clay pot from her kitchen and took it to her barn. There, she filled it with cow dung and then tied a leaf around the top to close it up. She was going to offer the clay pot as a present to Dodi. What could be more appropriate to the setting?
She laughed long and loud to herself. Then she tucked the pot in the crook of her left arm and set off for Dodi’s hut.
There was no hut to be seen, only a large mansion. It was much larger than her own, Dodi’s sister-in-law noticed with much dissatisfaction.
When she went in, her face turned even more sour as she saw an army of uniformed servants and her sister-in-law’s family decked out in brocades and jewels.
She sat down to eat, along with the other hundreds of guests, her clay pot still tucked in the crook of her arm. Seeing Dodi’s new circumstances, she thought it would be she who would be the laughing stock if the guests ever found out that her present was cow dung.
So she held on to her pot.
But not for long.
Dodi approached her and said, ‘Dear sister-in-law, I noticed that you have been carrying a clay pot all this time. Let me relieve you of it.’
‘Oh, no, it’s quite all right.’
‘I’m sure you brought it for us. What is it?’
‘Ohh … nothing … I mean … it is just … yoghurt,’ the sister-in-law lied.
‘Well, if it’s yoghurt, I will serve it to you and all our guests.’
So saying, Dodi took the clay pot from her sister-in-law and began serving from it. To the sister-in-law’s surprise – and great relief – what came out of the pot was – yoghurt!
You see, Dodi’s father was still watching from heaven. However unkind his daughter-in-law was, she was his son’s wife and his grandchildren’s mother. He did not want the family to be embarrassed.
Dodi’s sister-in-law did not return home happy. She felt that all the guests there were probably comparing Dodi’s festivities and food with her own and that her own had not been half as good.
So she decided to plan another dinner – much more lavish that Dodi’s – and to invite all the same guests.
This time she even served Dodi and her family. While Dodi and her husband ate, their children refused all food. Instead, they began to sing:
‘You did not feed me when I was poor and starving
You only invited me here
Because now I have fine feathers
So
Instead of feeding me
Feed my earring
Feed my nose-ring
Feed my toe-ring
And feed my fine feathers all.’
After their song, they got up, took their parents’ hands and left.
Soon afterwards Doda returned from his trip to Gaya. He was very angry with his wife for mistreating Dodi, but his wife answered, ‘O father-of-my-children, how can you be so cruel to me? I have been so good to Dodi. In fact, Dodi was just here for dinner.’
‘Did you feed her?’
‘Of course. I fed her so generously. How could you talk to me this way … when … when … I’m not even well.’
And Doda’s wife took herself to bed, where she stayed, pretending to be ill.
Some days later, she called Doda to her bedside and said, ‘O father-of-my-children, I feel so unwell. Could you please do something for me? I have filled two pots with delicious things. The smaller one is for my mother. Could you take it to her home? I have prepared a nice, large pot for you to take to your sister’s house. You can deliver both on your way to work.’
‘Whatever you say, mother-of-my-children,’ Doda replied. ‘I shall do it today.’
‘One other thing,’ added his wife. ‘This is a special request for Dodi. Her present is a surprise. Tell her that if she really wants to enjoy it, then she should open it behind seven locked doors. She should hire singers and musicians to sit outside. Whatever sounds come from inside the locked room, the musicians should try to imitate them. It will really be a lot of fun.’
‘Whatever you say, mother-of-my-children,’ said Doda.
On his way to work, Doda, suspecting his wife was up to no good, switched the pots. He left the large pot with his wife’s mother – with all his wife’s instructions about the locked doors and the musicians – and took the small pot to his sister.
He stayed with his sister as she opened her gift. The pot was filled with delicious sweets. The brother was relieved and the sister pleased that there was harmony in the household again. Meanwhile, Doda’s mother-in-law had collected all the singers and musicians and put herself behind seven locked doors.
With great glee, she opened her pot, wondering just what wonderful gifts her rich daughter had sent her.
But out of the pot came scorpions and snakes and angry little bees. They began attacking the old woman. She tried to run out, but all the doors were locked. ‘Oh, I’m stung,’ she yelled. The musicians, asked to copy all the sounds coming out from the locked doors, sang, ‘Do, re, mi, I’m stung, I’m stung.’
The old woman yelled, ‘Help, I’m bitten, I’m bitten.’
The musicians sang, ‘Do, re, mi, I’m bitten, I’m bitten.’
The old woman cried, ‘Someone help, I’m being killed.’
The musicians sang, ‘Do, re, mi, I’m being killed, I’m being killed.’
Now the old woman’s family was listening outside. They got increasingly worried at the strange nature of the sounds and began unlocking the doors. Inside they found the old woman, swollen with bites and stings, but quite alive.
They helped her out and treated her with lotions and potions.
Meanwhile, back at Doda’s house, lotions and potions were doing his wife no good.
‘Did you deliver the pots?’ she asked.
‘Yes, mother-of-my-children. Just as you said,’ answered Doda. ‘But what is the matter with you? You do not seem to get better. We have called all the best doctors, and they cannot find anything wrong with you.’
‘What do these doctors know. I cannot eat at all, as you can see. I have completely lost my appetite. See how my bones creak?’ She moved her body and, indeed, all Doda could hear was crackle, crackle, crunch.
Next day, as Doda was leaving for work his good neighbours called out, ‘Kindly step in here for a moment. We have something to show you. Instead of going to work today, just stay here and watch your wife’s antics.’
Doda watched from their window.
He watched his wife get out of bed and go to the kitchen to feed herself mounds of sweets and halvas and puddings. Then she went into her garden, pulled up some sugar cane, and chewed on that for a while. Then she went back to the kitchen and fried up a batch of breads and crisp wafers. She ate the breads. Then, when it was time for her husband to return, she did something very odd with the wafers. Before getting back into bed to wait for her husband, she tied them to her body under her clothing.
So, thought Doda. It was the wafers that crackled and crunched. His wife was so clever.
When he got home, she pretended to be iller than ever.
Doda, playing her game, said, ‘Dear mother-of-my-children, you look so ill and your bones are crackling more than ever. We have tried all the doctors. Tell me, tell me, is there any cure left? I will do anything you ask. I just want you to be well again.’
‘Dearest father-of-my-children,’ his wife answered, ‘mine is a hopeless case. I have seen all the doctors and tried all their remedies. All that is left for me is death.’ But then she went on, ‘However, a fortune-teller did visit me today. And he suggested something that he said was a sure cure.’
‘Today?’ asked Doda. He had watched her all day and she had been alone.
‘Yes,’ she sighed. ‘He came today. I’m really not sure I can tell you his cure. It is not very pleasant.’
Seasons of Splendour Page 4