Now this became his daily routine. He would prepare two pounds of chickpeas every day, sit under the tree with a pot of cold water and barter them for wood. He sold enough wood to buy what they needed and saved the rest. In two months’ time, he had stocked up several cartfuls of wood.
It so happened that for the next 10 days, it rained very heavily and the woodcutters could not go to the forest. This resulted in a shortage of firewood in the city. The price rose so high that Jaidutt was able to sell his stock for a hundred gold coins. Now he had enough money to set up a stall to sell firewood. By careful saving and shrewd selling, he soon became a successful timber merchant. After that, he put aside enough to get into the cloth trade. Then he took to dealing in grain. And when two years had passed, Jaidutt was known as one of the leading merchants of the city.
Now it’s time to pay Somadev back, he thought. He went to a goldsmith and asked him to make a rat of gold, with ruby eyes and sapphire ears. Then he hired some musicians and set off for Somadev’s house.
By this time, Chandra had grown into a fine young lady. Hearing the music, she ran out to see what was happening. She recognised Jaidutt at once. She had often wondered how he had fared. ‘Father, it’s the young boy!’ she called excitedly. ‘The one to whom you lent a dead rat.’
Somadev looked puzzled, but Jaidutt greeted him and said, ‘Good sir, two years ago you told me that hard work and intelligence could turn even a dead rat into gold. That advice helped me to prosper beyond all hope. I’ve come to repay my debt with this golden rat.’
‘I congratulate you heartily on your success,’ Somadev said. ‘But tell me how you did it.’
Jaidutt narrated the whole story, and Somadev said, ‘Well done! Please keep the golden rat, with my blessings.’
Jaidutt folded his hands, saying, ‘I thank you, noble sir. But … there is still one thing missing in my life – a wife to share my good fortune with.’ He looked at Chandra and said, ‘May I ask for the hand of your lovely daughter in marriage?’
‘Nothing would make me happier,’ Somadev said. ‘What do you say, Chandra?’
Chandra just smiled in agreement.
Jaidutt and Chandra were married with great pomp and show. Jaidutt continued to work hard and prosper. But to remind himself and others of his humble beginnings, he hung the golden rat in front of his shop. He also had chickpeas and cold water always distributed free to the weary woodcutters as they returned home from the forest.
The Palanquin of the Goddess
On a cold, misty night, a young boy called Devidutt was walking home through a dense pine forest. Devidutt lived in a village at the foot of the Himalayan mountains. On his back he was carrying a bag of rice that he had bought at a town nearby.
The forest was dark and quiet except for the chirrup-chirrup of hundreds of crickets and the occasional howl of a jackal. But Devidutt wasn’t afraid, for he was used to the forest and its noises. Suddenly, however, a new sound came to his ears. It was the sound of music – drums, flutes and the shrill ransingha, the long snaky trumpet-like instrument that always accompanied a wedding procession.
Devidutt was surprised. ‘It’s not the wedding season,’ he said to himself. ‘What could this music be?’
The sound grew louder and louder and seemed to come closer and closer. But Devidutt could see nothing in the mist and the darkness. Strange, he thought. Surely I should see some lights flashing through the trees.
Before he knew it, the music was almost upon him. He could even hear the sound of hurrying feet. ‘Stand aside!’ a voice cried. ‘Make way for the goddess’s palanquin!’
Devidutt peered into the darkness. ‘Where is the goddess’s palanquin?’ he asked. ‘I can’t see anything.’
‘Make way,’ the voice insisted, ignoring his question. But Devidutt just stood there, confused.
All at once, the music clashed deafeningly in his ear, a fierce wind spun him around, and then there was nothing ...
The bright rays of the morning sun woke Devidutt. He sat up, blinked and stretched his cramped limbs. ‘Have I lain here all night?’ he exclaimed, astonished. ‘My mother must be worried.’ Quickly, he got to his feet, picked up his bag of rice and started towards home. But as he went along, he couldn’t help thinking of the strange experience he’d had. Will anyone believe me? he wondered.
The sun had climbed above the mountains and was glinting brightly on the slate roofs of his village. Ahead of him on the path, he saw a boy carrying cans of water on a pole slung across his shoulders. It was his friend Govind, returning from the village spring.
‘Govind!’ Devidutt called. ‘Wait for me!’
Govind stopped, looked around then muttered, ‘I could have sworn it was Devidutt speaking,’ and walked on.
‘It is me!’ Devidutt cried. ‘Stop! Wait!’
Govind turned again with a puzzled look. ‘I’m hearing voices,’ he said, looking a little scared.
‘Govind!’ Devidutt called again. But Govind only hurried off as fast as he could.
What’s the matter? Devidutt wondered. Why didn’t Govind stop? Quickening his step, he continued on his way.
As he neared his home, he saw his mother in the courtyard, watching the road anxiously. ‘I’m home, Ma,’ Devidutt called. But his mother looked blankly at him.
‘Ma, I’m here,’ Devidutt said again.
‘Where? Where are you hiding?’ she asked, glancing around, confused. ‘Don’t play tricks. I’ve been so worried.’
‘But I’m right here,’ Devidutt said, touching her hand.
‘Who touched me?’ his mother shrieked. ‘Oh, it’s a ghost. Oh, my poor son! A wild animal’s eaten you up.’ And she began to weep loudly.
Devidutt was shocked. He was very much alive, he knew. Suddenly, he guessed what had happened. He’d become invisible! What was he to do now?
‘Ma, I’m not dead. I’m alive! You just can’t see me,’ he tried to explain. But his mother wailed louder than ever, and people came running from all over the village to find out what was wrong.
Devidutt watched helplessly for a while. Then, full of despair, he went off to the backyard to think. As soon as he sat down, a flock of birds rose from the trees nearby, chirping loudly. Oh, I haven’t fed the birds, Devidutt thought. He scattered grain for them to eat every day. He took out some rice from his bag and sprinkled it on the ground.
Suddenly, a strange little voice said, ‘Devi, Devidutt.’
‘Who called?’ Devidutt asked, startled. ‘Can you see me?’
‘Of course, I can.’ Devidutt was surprised to find that a little yellow bird was speaking to him.
He felt greatly relieved. ‘But why can’t anyone else?’ he asked.
‘Because you touched the goddess’s palanquin.’
‘Is that why? Oh ... if only I’d known. But I couldn’t see it and didn’t know what was happening. Oh-h, what am I going to do now!’
‘Do not despair,’ said the bird. ‘You can become visible again if you go to the forest on the night of the full moon with a golden rhododendron flower for the goddess.’
‘A golden rhododendron! Such a flower does not exist.’
‘If you look hard enough, you will find it,’ said the bird before flying away, flapping its yellow wings.
A golden rhododendron, Devidutt thought. It seemed easier to fly to the moon. But he didn’t want to remain invisible forever. So he went off to the forest.
He began his search at one end. But there were many, many trees in the forest, and though he searched and searched, he couldn’t find the golden flower. The next day he set out again, but again he had no success. It was the same the next day, and the next and the next.
The days slipped by and before he knew it, the day of the full moon arrived and Devidutt hadn’t found the flower. Today is my last chance, he thought anxiously. So he got up early and once again set out for the forest.
As he was passing the very last house in the village, he heard a moan. Devidutt stopped for
a minute, but then realising that he didn’t have any time to waste, he decided to walk on. It was then that he heard it again. Someone’s in pain, he thought. I can’t turn away. So he stopped once more. He knew that a crotchety old woman called Buddhiamma lived in that house.
‘What’s the matter, Old Mother?’ he called through the window.
‘Oh, my leg,’ groaned the old woman. ‘It hurts so bad. I can’t walk. And I haven’t any wood, so I can’t light a fire to cook my food.’
‘All right,’ Devidutt said. ‘I’ll fetch you some wood.’
He went quickly to the forest and collected a nice big bundle of twigs. As soon as he put them down in the courtyard, the woman called, ‘My water’s all finished. Could you get some more from the spring?’
Devidutt wanted to run off, but he picked up her water pots and went to the spring. When he got back, she said, ‘Light the fire, please, and put on some rice to cook.’ Then, ‘Pick some spinach from the vegetable patch.’ After that it was something else, and something else. And so, half the day melted away. At last, she said, ‘You can go, whoever you are. If my eyes weren’t so bad, I’d have been able to see you. May you gain your heart’s desire.’
Devidutt rushed to the forest. He searched and searched till it was too dark to see anything. But he couldn’t find the golden flower. He sat on the stump of a tree, thinking sadly, I’ll have to remain invisible forever.
And at that very moment, the sound of distant music came floating through the forest – drums, flutes, the ransingha. Devidutt started and jumped to his feet. ‘The goddess’s palanquin!’ he cried.
Lights flashed through the trees. The music became louder and louder. ‘How I wish I had the golden flower,’ Devidutt said desperately. That very instant, a ray of brilliant light struck a tree in front of him. Something bright glinted dazzlingly. Devidutt stared, transfixed, then reached out to pluck the golden rhododendron!
‘Make way!’ a voice called. As Devidutt moved aside, he beheld a wondrous sight! The musicians were dressed in brilliant white, their turbans shining silver. Their faces had a strange unearthly glow as they danced through the forest. The goddess’s palanquin was made of gold and studded with flashing, sparkling jewels. Bowing low, Devidutt held out the golden flower. A strange perfume enveloped him, and he sank gently to the ground.
When he awoke, it was morning. Will I be visible now? he wondered. He rose and ran to his village. Ahead of him, he saw Govind carrying water from the spring.
‘Stop!’ Devidutt cried.
‘Is it you, Devidutt? Where have you been all these days?’ Govind demanded. ‘Everyone thought you were dead or had run away.’
Devidutt didn’t stop to explain. It was enough to know that he was visible again. He raced home to find his mother and tell her the amazing story of the goddess’s palanquin.
The Music Loving Demon
Once there was a poor Brahmin who lived in a southern state of India. Though he possessed much knowledge of the scriptures, he had to struggle to make a decent living. Because of his pathetic condition, nobody was willing to marry their daughter to him. Then one day, he heard that learned men could earn good money in the holy city of Kashi. Immediately, he made up his mind to go there, thinking that he would gain another benefit, that of going on a pilgrimage.
He packed a frugal meal and set off. After he had walked a long distance, he came upon a pleasant spot with a shady tree and a pond close by. Being hungry and tired by now, he decided to stop and eat his lunch. But when he went to wash his hands in the pond, someone called out, ‘Ohhh! Don’t! Please don’t!’
The Brahmin looked around, but there was no one to be seen. Puzzled, he sat down under the tree and opened his lunch of cold rice. But the moment he put the first morsel into his mouth, someone cried again, ‘Don’t, please don’t.’ However, when he looked around once more, he still could not find anyone. The Brahmin finished his meal hurriedly and was about to leave, when the voice called out again. ‘Please! Don’t go,’ it said.
The Brahmin was quite mystified. The person sounded as if he were in great pain. ‘Who are you?’ he asked. ‘Where are you calling from, and why do you keep saying this?’
‘Right here, above you,’ said the voice again. The Brahmin looked up and discovered that there was a brahmarakshasa, a Brahmin demon, sitting on the tree.
‘Good sir, can you see that temple nearby?’ it said. ‘There’s a piper playing there, completely out of tune. I just can’t bear it. It’s sheer torture for me. You see, I was a great musician in my previous life. Unfortunately, I kept my knowledge to myself and never shared it with anyone. For this reason, I was condemned to become a demon in this birth. And now I have to suffer terrible agonies every time I hear that fellow playing so abominably. Please be kind enough to do me a favour. I cannot move myself from this tree since I was placed here after I died. But if you could carry me away from this awful spot, I’ll be eternally grateful. You’ll earn much merit by helping someone so miserable.’
The Brahmin felt sorry for the demon. At the same time, he knew such demons had special powers. It struck him that he could earn a reward for this good turn. So he said, ‘I’ll do what you want. But I’m miserably poor. Can you help me improve my condition?’
‘Certainly,’ said the demon. ‘I have many powers, and if I move, I’ll gain more. I’ll definitely help you if you do this for me.’
The Brahmin hoisted the fiend on his back, carried him to a faraway place and set him down on a tree there. After thanking him profusely, the demon said, ‘Now listen to me. If you do as I say, you’ll never be poor again. I’ll go and take possession of the princess of Mysore. Dozens of exorcists will come and try to cast me out, but I won’t budge. Then you must come and try to get rid of me. I’ll leave the princess at once. Overjoyed, the king will reward you so handsomely that it’ll last you a lifetime. But there’s one condition. If I decide to possess anyone else, you are not to try and exorcise me. I’ll kill you if you do.’
‘All right,’ said the Brahmin, ‘but you must stick to your part of the deal too.’
The Brahmin left the demon on the tree and went on to Kashi. There he bathed in the holy river Ganges and, after a long, difficult journey, reached the city of Mysore. He found an inn to stay in and found that the people were all agog with the news of a terrible demon that had taken possession of the princess.
‘The king is ready to pay any price to the person who can rid her of it,’ said the innkeeper.
The Brahmin smiled. The demon had kept his word. He spruced himself up as best he could, then went and presented himself at the palace. ‘Your Majesty,’ he told the king, ‘with due respect, I would like to make an attempt to rid the princess of the terrible fiend who has taken hold of her.’
Looking at the shabby, travel-worn Brahmin, the courtiers laughed. ‘All kinds of powerful sorcerers have tried their best. Do you think you can do better?’ they mocked.
But the king was quite desperate by now, so he told the Brahmin to try his hand.
‘Kindly leave me alone with the princess,’ said the Brahmin. ‘I can only work in private.’
After everyone had left, as is the way of such fiends, the demon spoke in the princess’s voice, ‘You certainly took a long time to come,’ it said. ‘Now remember what I tell you. I’ll leave her because I promised you, but don’t you try this again. If you do, I’ll finish you off. I’m going now.’
The demon tore out of the princess’s body with a loud bang. Hearing the sound, the king and queen and their attendants rushed in. When they found that the princess was back to normal again, they were overjoyed. The grateful king rewarded the Brahmin with a large sum of money along with grants of land.
Now that he was rich, the Brahmin received many proposals and got married very easily. He settled down to a comfortable life in Mysore and had several children. The Brahmin was enjoying a happy existence, when he found himself in demand again.
This brahmarakshasa liked to pos
sess beautiful young princesses. He landed up in the neighbouring state of Kerala and took hold of the princess of Travancore. Her father, the king, tried his utmost to get rid of the fiend. However, nothing worked. Then a courtier told him about a great exorcist, the Brahmin who had cast out the demon that had afflicted the princess of Mysore. Immediately, the king of Kerala dispatched a messenger to his friend, the king of Mysore, who in turn sent for the Brahmin.
The Brahmin was in a pretty pickle. He did not dare to go and face the demon again, remembering his warning. But he could hardly disobey the king. He racked his brains for a way out but could find none. After receiving repeated messages from the king, he realised that he had no choice. With a heavy heart, he took leave of his wife and children and set off for Travancore.
When the Brahmin got there, he feigned illness to buy time. But he could not put off the matter forever. Finally, he had to go to the palace and face the fiend. He prayed long and hard before leaving and arrived at the palace full of fear and foreboding. As soon as he reached, he was escorted to the princess’s room. The moment the Brahmin entered, the demon screamed in the princess’s voice. ‘You fool, I told you not to come here! You didn’t heed my warning! Now I’ll tear you apart!’ Picking up an iron pestle, he lunged at the Brahmin.
The poor Brahmin thought he was done for. But just as the pestle was about to descend on his head, an idea flashed through his mind.
‘If you don’t listen to me, you evil creature,’ he cried, ‘I’ll bring the out-oftune piper here. You’ll really enjoy yourself when he plays to you night and day. Now, will you leave the princess, or shall I send for him?’
The demon screamed in agony. ‘No, please, I beg of you!’ it wailed. ‘I’ll go, I’ll go right away! Don’t bring that fellow. Please don’t!’
Sacked! Folk Tales You Can Carry Around Page 5