The merchant was unprepared for the brilliance of the color that struck his eye. The deep red stone radiated a fire matched only by the power of true love itself. The ruby’s splendor entranced him and he knew at once that the ring must be priceless. Since it seemed no one was guarding the treasure, the merchant could not resist slipping the jewel into his pocket. Knowing well that the owner could return at any moment to claim the package, he concealed the theft by replacing the ring with a small piece of dung of similar size and weight, which he carefully rewrapped in the soft silk handkerchief.
The crow, now fortified by the treats from the traders’ banquet table, returned to the tree where she had left the valuable parcel. She picked it up, flew back to the mountaintop by the fastest route possible, and presented it to Zanthi. Though it had been months since the princess had heard from the prince, still she secretly hoped that there was some compelling explanation for his silence and that her love for him was mutual. With trembling fingers she opened the prince’s beautiful silken package, expecting a letter. But when she found the dung inside, the message could not have been clearer. In that instant the last spark of hope was extinguished. There would be no happy reunion with her beloved prince. Zanthi’s heart was broken, and even the natural beauty of the mountain landscape had lost its charm. Renouncing the earthly realm, she cast off her alluring human shell, which had brought nothing but pain and sorrow, and once again she assumed her original form as a naga princess. Before she returned to her father’s kingdom in the underworld, she crawled to a nearby cave and there in the shade of a tree, just inside the entrance, she laid three eggs. Thus freed from the last remnants of her earthly entanglements, she bid farewell once and for all to her former mountain paradise and descended again into the kingdom of the nagas.
Not long thereafter a hunter came up the mountain in search of game. It was scorching hot, and the climb was strenuous, so he kept an eye out for a place to rest. The long shadow cast by the tree near the entrance to the cave caught his eye, and he decided to pause there and catch his breath. After he had recovered he took a look around and noticed a strange sparkling from inside the cave. Thinking he had perhaps stumbled upon a hidden treasure trove, he was eager to investigate. But instead of gold and jewels, he discovered three eggs, each one more unusual than the last. One was such a dark brown color it looked as if it were made of polished ebony. The second shone as white as the foam on the waves as they crash upon the shore. The third glistened as if made of pure gold. Although the treasure was not exactly what he had hoped for, the hunter knew he had made an extraordinary find. Not knowing whether the owner of the eggs was nearby, he quickly padded them with moss, stuffed them into his knapsack, and set out back down the mountain without a moment’s delay.
The route to the hunter’s home led over crags and uneven paths, not the ideal course for someone carrying such a fragile cargo. Then the inevitable happened: The hunter slipped on a wet stone and fell. The golden egg broke. Rubies and numerous other kinds of jewels spilled out of the shell, and for an instant the ground surrounding the place where the egg had split open was covered with glittering precious stones that shot gleaming colors into the sky. The fireworks were short-lived, however, for the heavy jewels quickly sank deep into the soft earth.
Disappointed, the hunter stopped to rest at the edge of a lake, where he was surprised by a sudden storm. The rivers overran their banks and the two remaining eggs were washed away by the rushing current of the Irrawaddy. The dark brown egg magically made its way to Thandwe, where it lay undamaged on the riverbank until a beautiful human child hatched out of it: a princess, who would one day become the ruler of this land. The shining white egg was carried by the river all the way to Nyaung-U, where the sandbanks cushioned it and kept the fragile shell from breaking. There, an elderly farmer and his wife, who were that day combing the beach for valuable items, discovered the shimmering object at the edge of the water. The two old people knew at once that this was no ordinary egg. They picked it up with great care and decided to consult with a hermit they knew who was highly regarded for his wisdom and virtue. Perhaps he could clarify the meaning of this find.
The hermit noted the unusual glow that emanated from the egg and warned the couple to take especially good care of the treasure that good fortune had bestowed upon them. He predicted that one day a boy with a noble disposition and a glorious future would emerge from this egg. The two old ones, who had never had children of their own, were overjoyed at the hermit’s prophecy, and they kept a sharp eye on the egg. One day the first cracks began to appear in its shell and it was not long before a little, perfectly formed boy emerged. His skin had a glow about it that was similar to the shell of the egg out of which he came. It was obvious that the prophecy of the hermit had come true when the boy exhibited extraordinary wisdom, grace, and other traits unusual in one so young. The couple, wanting to give the boy every possible advantage, taught him all they knew about nature, the changing seasons, and the best time to plant and harvest crops. They also taught him how important it was to treat others with respect and empathy. When Pyusawhti was old enough to begin a formal education, the pair entrusted him to a highly regarded monk. The monk was very pleased with his exceptional pupil, who proved to be knowledgeable and gifted in all fields. The teaching in the monastery was extensive, with a focus on religious instruction and martial arts. It is said that Pyusawhti developed a taste for competitive sports and became a master of the art of archery.
While Pyusawhti was receiving his education, his biological father had ascended to the throne. Even as king he was still filled with sorrow for failing to reunite with the beautiful mountain princess and for never getting to know his child. He had searched far and wide for both of them for many years, but his efforts had been in vain. His despair and the extent to which he blamed himself for what had happened were so great and palpable that even the spirits felt sorry for the dejected ruler. And so he learned of the crow’s detour during her flight back home, the related theft of the ruby ring and the subsequent replacement with the dung. As punishment for her negligence, the king, who was descended from the sun and was able to unleash its power, scorched the crow’s plumage. Ever since then, crows have not been white but black as coal.
The spirits showed the king the way to the small settlement of Nyaung-U. The king was overjoyed to find his well-raised son there, and he never tired of telling the boy about his history and his mother. He still deeply regretted breaking his promise to the princess, for he realized that Zanthi had renounced the world thinking he had betrayed her. Together, father and son honored her memory by bringing an offering of milk and flowers to one of the nearby naga caves.
To this day, couples in Burma who want a son try to earn the good graces of the nagas with similar sacrifices.
There was a time in the history of Burma when the Shan people ruled a large part of the country, including a small Karen village where a young woman named Mu Yeh Peh lived. She was renowned far and wide for her beauty, but beyond that she also had an extraordinary gift—any time she drank water it would immediately radiate in bright and lovely golden beams from her face and throat.
Word of this seemingly supernatural phenomenon traveled quickly, and soon even the Shan king had heard of it. It was customary for kings at that time to take several of the most beautiful and extraordinary women in the kingdom as their wives. The king’s curiosity was aroused, and he set off at once with his retinue for Mu Yeh Peh’s village.
News of the king’s approaching visit spread like wildfire, and Mu Yeh Peh found herself confronted with an impossible dilemma: She was already in love with a young man she wanted to marry. What is more, the Karen were forbidden to marry outside their tribe. The restriction applied all the more to Mu Yeh Peh, who, because of her beauty and special power, was so revered by all Karen people that she had become a symbol of hope for the tribe. So the Karen resolved at once to cover her in a veil and hide her in the mountains. The kin
g arrived shortly thereafter. He was furious when he learned that his bride was not there and no one could tell him where she was or when she might return. Did they mean to say he had come all this way for nothing? He sentenced the Karen to hard labor until Mu Yeh Peh should appear.
Yet even under the yoke of this punishment, not a single Karen betrayed the young beauty. Meanwhile, the king sulked in his palace, his wrath increasing with each passing day. In the end he proclaimed that all Karen women must henceforth lug heavy lumber to the palace every day, where they would then be forced to drink. Hopefully Mu Yeh Peh would thus be exposed.
Instead, the Karen simply hid her deeper in the mountains. But when she caught wind of the way the king was tormenting the women of her tribe, she was plagued by doubts. Should she not turn herself in? She would refuse the king’s offer of marriage, and then?…Presumably a death sentence.
For one whole day and night Mu Yeh Peh wrestled with uncertainty, and then she made up her mind. She had no choice; she must surrender and release her tribe from their suffering.
Mu Yeh Peh mingled with the other women as they struggled along to the palace laden with heavy lumber. There she lined up for the obligatory drink. She took a sip before the very eyes of the royal guard, and she was instantly revealed by the golden glow. They led her directly to the king, who straightaway asked her to marry him. She refused politely but firmly and begged for lenience. But the king knew no mercy and had her thrown into the dungeon. She spent a few days locked up, sick with longing for her beloved and lamenting her lot, before the soldiers came to fetch her. Any lingering hopes she might have had were quickly dispelled. The guards led her to a large open square before the palace. They had dug a deep hole there, and they pushed Mu Yeh Peh into it. The indignant king presided over the proceedings and then gave the order: Two elephants began rolling a large tree trunk in the direction of the pit. The tree trunk was meant to seal Mu Yeh Peh in her grave, but when the elephants saw her they refused to entomb her.
The king boiled with rage. He ordered that blind elephants be brought, and so it was done. The soldiers could barely contain the crowd as the execution resumed.
The animals slowly approached the pit. Suddenly Mu Yeh Peh’s beloved, the best climber far and wide, shinnied up a tall bamboo trunk so that it leaned ever lower in the direction of the ditch. He was hoping to scoop up his beloved and escape with her!
But the bamboo was too short. The young man could not reach Mu Yeh Peh, and instead of helping her get away, he got himself captured and thrown into the pit alongside her.
The elephants rolled the tree trunks into place until the ditch was sealed forever. Mu Yeh Peh and her beloved died together in a tender embrace.
To this day many Karen await the rebirth of Mu Yeh Peh in the hope that she will unite her tribe and lead them to a better future.
The wealthy rice merchant’s villa was splendidly decorated. The aroma of delicious curries, fragrantly roasted fish, and fresh fruit wafted through the halls. The day had come on which his only daughter, a young woman known throughout the whole city for her beauty, was to be married. The groom also came from a wealthy family, and, as such, the rice merchant was certain that nothing stood in the way of this couple’s happy future.
After the wedding, the merchant had a palace built for the young couple. It was trimmed with gold inside and out. He made sure that they wanted for nothing. Yet after a while the son-in-law began to feel restless. He craved adventure and yearned to go out into the world, to stand on his own two feet and not to rely on his parents’ or in-laws’ money.
“But we have everything we need to be happy right here! Don’t go!” his wife pleaded. “Our parents will support us and our children. Why expose yourself to the dangers of a long voyage?”
“I want don’t want to live off someone else’s back,” her husband replied. “I want to be my own master and explore the world.”
His wife’s parents implored him to reconsider. He had a beautiful wife and a small palace. Why risk a perilous journey to faraway lands?
But the young man stood by his decision. He purchased a ship and set sail. He left behind a deeply disappointed and aggrieved wife who now wanted revenge. Since my husband does not respect my wishes, she thought to herself, I will not respect his. He is off seeking adventure, so I, too, will have some fun of my own. He despises my parents’ money? Let’s see how far that gets him!
She ordered her servants to find the laziest dimwit in the land and bring him to her.
To her surprise, that very evening a handsome young man was brought before her. She invited him to stay and in the darkness of the night they began to play secret love games, which became more and more passionate as the weeks went by. Months passed and one day the loafer asked his lover what was going to happen if her husband returned? That question had not yet even crossed her mind, so together they came up with a cunning plot. The following night they went to the graveyard and dug up the body of a recently deceased young woman. They dragged it back to the palace, laid it in the marriage bed, set the palace on fire, and fled to another province.
The hungry flames burned the house down to the foundation, and in the ruins the parents discovered the charred remains of a woman. Their hearts were sick with grief and their wits confused.
The daughter had taken all of her jewelry and gems with her and at first was able to live magnificently on these riches. But because her lover was genuinely lazy and because she herself did not know the first thing about work, her funds were soon depleted.
“So, what are we going to do when all the money is gone?” asked the loafer, who had quite literally grown fat off their sweet life of luxury. The woman had no immediate answer to this question. It took her a whole day and night to come up with her next plan. “You have become so large,” she explained, “no one in our city will be able to recognize you. I look pretty much unchanged and when my parents see me they will think I am their dead daughter’s doppelgänger and they will take us in.”
The two traveled back to their hometown and sat by the side of the road near the rice merchant’s villa dressed as beggars. They had only been there a few hours when the mother came along. Upon seeing her daughter she cried out: “My eyes must be playing tricks on me! You are the spitting image of our deceased child!”
“We are only poor beggars and ask only for a small pittance,” answered the daughter, disguising her voice.
“Oh no, you are a gift! Follow me to our house. You are to be pampered. You will want for nothing.”
They were both given fine clothes and food, and the rice merchant and his wife, in their sadness, invited them to stay. The sight of a person who so closely resembled their child greatly comforted them. They rebuilt the burned-down palace stone for stone and asked the alleged beggars to make themselves at home there.
Time passed and one day a grand merchant vessel sailed into the harbor. It was laden with gold, gems, fine cloth, and exotic spices. It was the husband who, happy to be back, immediately set out for the home of his wife’s parents. When he learned about the fire and the gruesome death of his wife his heart was broken. Plagued by sadness, guilt, and self-blame, he wandered the city streets aimlessly. All the greater was his surprise when he suddenly stood in front of a palace that looked every bit the twin of the one that had burned down. He went inside, roaming through the hallways until he finally reached the bedroom where he found his wife in the arms of her lover.
“You are mistaking me for someone else,” she proclaimed. “I am not your wife but simply a beggar.”
Her parents rushed over, as did the neighbors, all testifying to having witnessed the devastating fire and the discovery of the charred corpse with their own eyes.
The husband would not be duped. “Since my departure I have yearned desperately for my beloved wife. Do you really think I wouldn’t recognize her?”
Each side claimed to know the truth, and no one was able to off
er up a solution, so they found the highest judge in the land to listen to their case and give her verdict.
She listened to the different versions of the story and then asked everyone to leave the room. She wanted to speak privately with each of the parties.
When she was alone with the husband, she said, “Everyone’s testimony and all the evidence speaks against you. If you are telling the truth, you are trying to get back a woman who is deceiving you and lying shamelessly. That is unforgivable. If you are lying, you are trying to take another man’s wife. That, too, is unforgivable. Why do not you just take me as your wife? I am not married, I am very respectable, and I am certainly not ugly.”
“Your Honor,” the man replied, “with all due respect, your offer is appealing, but I know that you are only trying to tempt me. I am married. This purported beggar woman is my wife and the one I love and the one I left against her will in order to go on some silly adventure.”
The judge sent him out and called in the loafer.
“My dear,” she began in a friendly voice, “you don’t seem like the type who frets about things. Why do you covet another man’s wife? Take me instead. I have money, live alone, and would be happy to have a man. We could live a life of luxury together.”
“Splendid!” answered the delighted dimwit. “One woman is as good as the next.”
The judge sent him out and asked to speak to the woman who professed to be a beggar.
“Goodness sakes, I don’t understand you. Why would you want to stay with that loafer when you could be the wife of this respected and rich explorer?”
“Your Honor,” the woman explained, “you are a woman. I am a woman. We both know that we are fruit. While the fruit hangs in the tree it belongs to that tree, but as soon as it falls to the ground, it can no longer return to its tree.”
The Long Path to Wisdom Page 15