by Bali Rai
‘A parrot?’
‘Yes …’ Punchkin replied, smoothing his beard. ‘I cannot be killed unless it dies first …’
‘But what if …?’
‘No one will ever find it!’ Punchkin declared. ‘And even if they do, a thousand genies guard it. They would kill anyone who approached.’
Balna nodded.
‘So you must not worry,’ added Punchkin. ‘I will never be killed.’
‘Very well,’ said Balna. ‘Give me another month, kind sir. And I promise, I shall marry you then. You have my word.’
Punchkin, despite his impatience, grew excited and agreed at once. He rushed off to plan the momentous day.
When Prince Nanda returned as the flower girl, Balna told him everything, and begged that he leave at once.
‘Go now, my son,’ she wept, ‘live your life. I will stay and bear my burden. I am simply happy to see your face one last time.’
‘No, Mother,’ Nanda replied. ‘I will find Punchkin’s parrot and set you free. Keep him busy until I return.’
‘But what will I say about the flower girl?’ asked Balna.
‘Tell him that I’ve returned to my parents,’ said Nanda. ‘Be strong, my mother. Fortune is on my side. I will not fail you.’
Prince Nanda left that evening, packing a few belongings and some food and water. Stealing one of Punchkin’s horses, he descended the mountain path and rode into the great forest. With no idea where he was going, he travelled for many days, until the forest became a thick jungle. That night, he sat down under a tall papaya tree and slept. Soon, a soft rustling and hissing awakened him. He sat up quickly, and saw a giant serpent. It slithered towards an eagle’s nest in the branches above, where two eaglets sat. Nanda jumped to his feet, drew his sword and killed the snake with a single stroke.
Up above, he heard eagles cry, their mighty golden wings flapping. The eaglets’ parents had returned. Spotting the dead snake, and the prince with his sword drawn, they landed at his feet. They were almost as tall as Nanda, and magnificent to behold.
‘Thank you, oh, thank you!’ the mother eagle cried out. ‘You have saved my children!’
‘I could not let it eat them,’ the prince replied.
‘That serpent has plagued every bird in the jungle,’ said the father eagle. ‘And now it is dead. You have blessed us, stranger.’
‘My name is Nanda,’ said the prince. ‘And now we are friends.’
The prince sat down as the mother eagle took food to her young. Then she flew off to find fruits for the prince to eat.
‘Where are you from, Nanda?’ the father eagle asked.
‘A place far away,’ said Nanda. ‘I am a prince and I am trying to save my mother.’
Slowly he told his tale, as the father eagle listened. The mother soon returned with mangoes for the prince, which he ate whilst talking. Eventually he described Punchkin’s evil deeds and the location of his parrot.
‘We know it!’ the eagles replied in unison.
‘The exact place?’ asked Nanda, jumping to his feet in urgency.
‘Yes,’ said the father eagle. ‘It is very far away, but I will take you there.’
‘You are very kind,’ said Prince Nanda, ‘but I cannot take you away from your young.’
‘Now that the serpent is dead,’ said the father eagle, ‘there is nothing to fear. Besides, I am forever in your debt.’
Time was against him, and Prince Nanda realized that he needed the eagle’s help.
‘Very well,’ he said.
With no time to lose, the father eagle spread his enormous wings and Nanda climbed on to his back. Away they flew, higher and higher, until they reached the clouds. They flew tirelessly for three days, until finally they reached Punchkin’s secret place. When the prince saw the circle of palm trees, he wept with joy.
It was noon, and the heat was intense. Each of the one thousand genies had fallen asleep. All around them, the prince saw the spoils of a great feast. Yet they could not land, in case they disturbed the evil spirits.
‘I shall fly down with you,’ said the eagle. ‘If I knock over the water pots, you can grab the parrot.’
‘We must be quick,’ said Prince Nanda. ‘The genies will wake up, and we cannot let them catch us.’
The father eagle nodded. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I am too fast for them. Ready …?’
‘Yes,’ said Nanda, holding tight.
Down they swooped, as the air rushed past. They swept into the clearing and the eagle used its legs to topple the water pots. One by one, the pots crashed and shattered, until the last one fell open. The green parrot squawked in delight, and tried to take flight. But Nanda was too quick. He snatched the parrot with one hand, and rolled it up into his cloak. The evil genies woke and howled with rage, but far too late.
Before they could move, the eagle was soaring back into the clouds at dazzling speed. This time Nanda shrieked with delight, knowing that his mother would soon be saved. And when eventually they arrived back at the nest, the prince fell to his knees and thanked the eagles.
‘Stay a while,’ said the mother eagle. ‘Stay and take supper with us.’
‘You are very kind,’ replied the prince, ‘but I must leave at once. There is no time to lose!’
The father eagle spread his great wings once again. ‘Then let me take you,’ he said.
‘But you have done so much for me,’ said Nanda. ‘I cannot put you in danger too.’
‘You saved two children,’ said the father eagle. ‘This will be my second thank you.’
‘Very well,’ said Nanda. ‘But after this, your debt to me is paid.’
Fearing that Punchkin might harm his new friend, the prince asked to be taken to the foot of the mountain. The eagle agreed, and they left that evening. By sunrise three days later, the prince had returned to Punchkin’s kingdom.
Saying goodbye to the eagle, he ascended the mountain path, ready to face his enemy. And when he reached the house of the woman who had helped him, she held him tight.
‘Dear boy!’ she said. ‘You have come to save us all!’
‘Yes,’ the prince replied. ‘And there is not a moment to lose!’
He hurried to the palace, and at the gates, he took the parrot from its hiding place. Punchkin was in his courtyard, and sensed the parrot’s presence immediately. He rushed to the gates, and froze in terror when he saw Nanda.
‘Boy!’ he demanded with a shaky voice. ‘Where did you get that parrot? Give it to me at once!’
‘No, no,’ said Prince Nanda. ‘This parrot is a dear friend.’
‘Dear boy,’ said Punchkin, ‘I pray thee – the parrot, please …’
The magician held out a quivering hand. As he trembled and shook, his servants began to gather, whispering amongst themselves.
‘I said no,’ the prince replied.
Punchkin thought quickly, his hands shaking in fear. ‘Sell it to me, then,’ he said. ‘I will pay anything you ask!’
‘Sir,’ replied the prince, ‘I will not sell my parrot.’
Punchkin’s anxiety grew.
‘Please, young man!’ he cried. ‘I will give you anything. Anything, I say!’
‘Then set the seven brothers you turned into rocks free at once!’ the prince demanded.
With a swish of his wand, Punchkin did as the prince asked.
‘There,’ he said. ‘Now give me my parrot!’
The prince ruffled the bird’s green feathers.
‘Not yet!’ he replied. ‘Free every soul that you have ever cursed …’
Punchkin waved the wand yet again, and across his kingdom, the accursed were set free.
‘It is done!’ he cried. ‘My parrot!’
The palace gardens burst into life. All around, rocks and trees and stones and shrubs became kings and princes, queens and princesses. Mighty horse-mounted warriors broke free of their torment, alongside many hundreds of servants and pages and attendants.
‘My parrot!’ Pu
nchkin bellowed. ‘Give me my –’
The prince took the parrot by its neck and tore off its left wing. As he did so, Punchkin’s left arm fell off.
‘Please …!’ shrieked Punchkin.
The prince tore off the parrot’s right wing and Punchkin’s right arm fell away too.
‘ARRRGGGHHHHH!’ squealed the magician, falling to his knees.
The prince tore away the parrot’s left leg, and Punchkin’s left leg followed.
‘Noooo!!!!!!!!’
The prince removed the parrot’s right leg and Punchkin’s right leg soon followed.
‘MERCY … !!!’ screamed Punchkin. ‘I beg you, young sir!’
Nothing remained, except for Punchkin’s limbless torso. Yet still the wicked magician begged and pleaded, and offered limitless wealth.
‘Just give me my parrot,’ he whispered.
The prince nodded. ‘Here,’ he replied. ‘Take your parrot.’
He wrung the parrot’s neck, and threw it at the magician. Punchkin’s head twisted with a sickening wrench and he screeched in agony, Then, with a terrible groan, Punchkin fell dead at last.
That evening, the people of many, many kingdoms rejoiced at Punchkin’s demise. His palaces and all of his wealth were shared amongst his long-suffering people. And the young prince was reunited with his mother, his father and all six of his uncles. After saying a tearful goodbye to the old woman, Prince Nanda led his family on their long journey home.
The Sun and the Moon
Jeet Singh watched his father tether the water buffalo and trudge wearily into the house. After a hard day of farming, Jeet’s father was tired and hungry. He washed his hands and face, and then sat with a glass of milk.
‘Father,’ said Jeet. ‘Will you tell me a story?’
‘Of course, my son,’ his father replied.
The previous evening had seen a full moon, something Jeet had always found fascinating. He wondered where the moon had come from, and the sun too.
‘Tell me about the sun and the moon,’ Jeet said.
‘What about them?’ his father asked.
‘Where did they come from?’ said Jeet, sitting down next to his father.
‘Oh,’ said his father, ‘there are many stories. My favourite is about sweets.’
‘Sweets …?’
Jeet grew excited at the thought of sweets and his father smiled.
‘Are you ready?’
Jeet nodded.
‘Once,’ said his father, ‘there lived a brother and sister …’
The boy was called Sun, and the girl was named Moon. Their mother was a widow, and her life was hard. One day, Sun and Moon were invited to a party. Their mother couldn’t go with them, so she washed and dressed them, and sent them on their way.
‘Bring back some sweets for me,’ she said.
Sun and Moon had a wonderful time. The party was exciting and fun, and there were mountains of delicious food. When the time came to leave, their host gave Sun and Moon a big bag of sweets each.
‘Thank you,’ said Moon, because she was always polite.
But her brother, Sun, wasn’t as well behaved. Sun was moody and naughty, and very, very greedy. Instead of thanking their host, he opened his bag, took a sweet and ate it.
They walked home, and on the way, Moon was happy. She loved her mother dearly, and couldn’t wait to give her some sweets.
‘But then you won’t get any,’ said her brother.
‘Oh, Sun,’ said Moon. ‘I ate so much at the party. I don’t need any more sweets.’
Sun shook his head in disbelief. ‘But they’re delicious!’ he said. ‘I’m going to eat all of mine.’
And he did. By the time they reached their house, Sun’s bag was empty. Their mother was very pleased to see them, and made a fuss.
‘My beautiful, wonderful children,’ she said. ‘Did you have fun?’
‘Yes, Mother,’ said Moon. ‘It was lovely. I got a bag of sweets but I want you to have them.’
‘Thank you, Moon,’ said their mother. ‘You are always so generous.’
Sun didn’t say a thing. That night, as his mother and sister slept, he crept through the house. He found the bag of sweets on the table and smiled. One by one, he ate them all, until his belly ached and his tongue grew furry with sugar. Then he crept back to bed and fell fast asleep.
In the morning, his mother was furious. ‘What happened to my sweets?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know,’ said Moon. ‘Where did they go?’
Sun shrugged. ‘Maybe a mouse ate them?’ he said.
‘A mouse?’ said their mother. ‘Do you think I’m a fool? I know you ate them!’
Sun tried and tried to convince her, but his mother would not listen. Instead, she made a sorrowful prediction.
‘Sun,’ she said. ‘You are rude and misbehaved, and you tell so many lies. If you’re not careful, you will end up burning with envy and greed.’
Sun sneered. ‘At least I won’t be timid and boring like her!’ he shouted, pointing at his sister.
‘Ah,’ said their mother. ‘You’re very wrong. Moon is kind and generous. She will become a calming light in people’s lives. She will radiate with goodness and joy forever …’
And so it proved.
Jeet’s mother heard her husband’s story and frowned.
‘No, no,’ she said, pulling Jeet to her. ‘That’s not the story, my son.’
‘But Father said …’
Jeet’s mother shushed him and smiled.
‘Your father doesn’t know the real story,’ she teased. ‘Sun and Moon were brother and sister, but there weren’t any sweets …’
‘No sweets?’
‘No,’ said Jeet’s mother. ‘Now, let me tell you what really happened …’
Sun and Moon lived a hard life in a small hut. Their mother had raised them alone, and was often very tired. On one such day, she asked her children to do her chores.
‘Moon,’ she said. ‘There is no bread for supper. I would like you to make the dough and knead it. And when it is ready, you must make our food for us.’
‘Yes, Mother,’ replied Moon. ‘You just take a rest.’
Moon was a calm and well-behaved daughter. Her kindness had no end, and she was always full of joy.
‘Sun?’ said their mother.
‘I’m busy!’ Sun replied.
‘Listen to me,’ said their mother. ‘Without a fire, Moon cannot bake our bread. I would like you to collect kindling and light a fire for your sister.’
‘Why can’t she do it?’ asked Sun. ‘I can’t do everything …’
‘You must share the chores,’ said their mother. ‘Light the fire, but be careful to watch over it. Otherwise it might grow too big.’
Sun huffed and stormed outside to find kindling. Unlike his sister, Sun was rude and naughty. He hated being told what to do, and never shared anything. Even so, he did as he was told, and soon the hearth danced with flames.
‘There,’ he said to Moon, as their mother slept on her string bed.
‘Thank you, brother,’ said Moon. ‘Now, if you could just help me to shape the dough, I can …’
‘What?’ snapped Sun. ‘Why should I help you? I’ve done my job …’
And out he went again, forgetting all about his mother’s warning. Moon soon needed more water, but found the buckets empty. Fetching water was one of Sun’s tasks, but he hadn’t done it. Shrugging off his failure, Moon grabbed a bucket and went to the nearest well. Inside, however, the fire began to grow and grow. A tiny glowing ember popped and landed on a piece of muslin, setting it alight. Their mother, her nose tickling, opened her eyes and saw the flames. She screamed and ran for the door, as the fire began to blacken the ceiling.
Outside, she saw the empty water buckets and grew angry. With nothing to douse the flames, the hut was soon ablaze. As Sun and Moon came running, their mother was furious.
‘SUN!’ she yelled. ‘Look what your selfishness has done!’
&n
bsp; ‘But, Mother, I …’
‘ENOUGH!’ their mother yelled. ‘We have lost everything.’
And then she sat and wept. And through her tears, she made a prediction.
‘Moon,’ she whispered. ‘You will always be peaceful and give people solace, but your brother will not be so fortunate …’
She looked up at her lazy and selfish boy, and shook her head in grief.
‘Sun,’ she said. ‘As this fire burns, so will you – relentless and unforgiving, for eternity …’
Jeet looked at his parents.
‘I’m confused,’ he said. ‘Which story is true …?’
‘They’re just myths,’ said his father.
‘But I still don’t know where the Sun and Moon came from,’ said Jeet.
‘Never mind,’ said his mother. ‘I’m sure you’ll find out one day. Now it’s time for supper …’
The Tiger, the Brahmin and the Jackal
One day, a huge tiger was strolling through a forest when it fell into a hunter’s trap. Caged and angry, the tiger roared so loudly that every animal nearby ran away. It tried in vain to escape, rolling and snarling and biting, but the cage held fast. Eventually the tiger grew tired and gave up, slumping on its huge orange paws.
It grew hungry and afraid, but soon a kindly Brahmin happened upon the trap. The tiger sat up at once and called out.
‘Oh, holy man!’ it cried. ‘Release me from this cage, I beg you!’
‘I won’t, friend,’ the Brahmin replied. ‘Although I cannot stand to see a fellow creature suffer, I am afraid of you. If I release you, you might eat me.’
‘No, no!’ the tiger declared. ‘Why would I eat you for showing kindness? I promise on my children’s lives, I will not attack you. If you save me, I will serve you.’
The tiger began to sob and wail, and plead with the holy man. Soon the Brahmin found his heart melting, and he stopped being afraid. How could he let this magnificent animal die?
‘Very well,’ the Brahmin agreed. ‘But you must promise not to devour me.’
‘I promise, I promise,’ the tiger replied. ‘I will be in your debt forever.’