Thai Children's Favorite Stories

by Marian D. Toth

  King Pichai and Princess Golden Flower fell in love at first sight. The Mother Goddess of the Sea returned them safely to King Sanuraj’s kingdom where they were happily married.

  That year, at the Loy Krathong festival, King Pichai and his bride made a boat from banana leaves. They loaded it with coins, incense, a lighted candle and flowers from Princess Golden Flower’s lovely lips. The little boat carried all their worries out to sea.

  It is said King Pichai and his beautiful princess lived long and happy lives in a palace scented with the delicate fragrance of golden flowers.

  The Wisest Man in Siam

  Once long ago, when Thailand was Siam, the country was ruled by a most powerful man. The mention of his name made men tremble, women hide, and children as still as pebbles along the side of the road. As mighty ruler of all Siam, he held power over life and death in the palm of his hand.

  This great king lived a life of luxury. He sat upon a golden throne, slept upon a golden bed and wore a tiered crown of gold. His royal feet never touched the ground. He hardly ever walked. Kings in those days used a palanquin, a special kind of chair, in which they sat proud and tall while servants carried them from one place to another. His food was served on plates of gold. His clothes were woven from golden thread. Understandably, the name of this king was “God Over My Head.”

  The king’s servants and guards were tense beyond belief. Their eyes observed each movement of his hands, for even a small gesture could be a command. Their ears listened carefully for every word that he might utter. They responded whether he stuttered, whispered, or spoke in a roar.

  Everyone feared the king. The farmers, the hunters, the astrologers too, shared the fear with the men who trained elephants, the men who made bronze, the men who dug ditches and created klong canals. The king was, as his name implies, the god over their heads. No one dared to give advice to him, for he would very easily lose his temper.

  Now, far away from the palace wall, there lived a man who wasn’t in the least bit fearful. He was called Sri Tanonchai. Unlike the king, the mention of his name made people smile and say, “Sri is the wisest man in the land. Sri knows the mystery of sea and sand. Sri knows all there is to know. He’s so smart, he hasn’t any foe!” The fame of his cleverness spread all over the land until he was known simply as Sri of Siam.

  This man’s memory was incredible. He knew everything by heart. People wore a path to his door as they came to him with their questions. And strange as it may seem, he always knew the right answer.

  “Sri, shall I be the father of a boy?” asked a proud young man one day.

  “Ah, yes, you shall be the father of a-a-a baby. And if it is not a girl, most certainly it shall be a boy,” said Sri with a smile.

  Sri lived in a bamboo hut in the shade of a coconut tree on the banks of a lazy brown river. He sat on his haunches, as he had no chair. He slept on a mat on a bare floor. He ate rice and fish and simple curries from a banana leaf plate. His clothes were made of coarse cotton thread. His eyes were sparkling black and bright, and as full of mischief as there is heat in the noontime sun. The fame of Sri reached every corner of the land. One day, the most royal ruler, God Over My Head, overheard his elephant trainer say, “If you don’t know the answer, ask Sri. Puzzles, riddles, prophecies, past or future history, recipes, remedies, cures for the cobra’s bite or how to dance the ramwong … Sri knows everything.”

  The king stood still and held his breath. “Why, this cannot be. That man speaks as if no one was as smart as Sri. I am the king of my country; never will it be said that a common man has more wit than God Over My Head.”

  He started out that very day on a mission of revenge. “I’ll find Sri, and then we shall see who is smarter!” he said to himself.

  He set off proudly on his royal elephant, but he had made sure to dress in a manner quite unlike a king. As a matter of fact, he looked like a king’s elephant boy.

  After a day, a night, and one more day, the king found his way to the door of the bamboo hut on the river’s edge where Sri Tanonchai lived.

  The king roared, “Sri of Siam, come here please!”

  Sri smiled a big broad grin instead of being cross.

  “Sawaddi, good day, good sir. Come and sit down. You appear to have had a very long ride. May I help you in some way?”

  The king said, “Sri, I have heard of your fame and I’ve come to put you to a test.”

  “There is nothing I like better than a test,” said Sri.

  “Sri,” said the king, “are you as clever as people say?”

  “Who knows?” said Sri.

  “Not I,” said the king. “That is why I am here. I came to find out, one way or another, if you are as clever as our king.”

  “But how can this be?” asked Sri. “The king has never sent for me. I’ve never seen the face or heard the voice of King God Over My Head.”

  “Sri, that problem is easy to solve, because I know the king most intimately and the only person as clever as he — is me! I can tell you with authority. I am his only equal.”

  “Your elephant has a noble look. No doubt you are one of the king’s best. Now, shall we match our wits in a simple contest?” asked Sri.

  “Fine,” said the king. “We shall match wits today. You must find a way to make me get into the river. You see, I’ve never liked even the thought of getting wet. Yet, a man who is clever could find a way of enticing me into the water.” Sri walked back and forth stroking his chin. There was a sparkle in his eye. He glanced at the river, at the king, and then with a sigh he said, “Good man, you are clever. Clever indeed! I would need magic to make you get in. I guess you win this part of the contest.”

  The king smiled victoriously as Sri continued talking.

  “Chai, as much as I want to,” he said stroking his chin, “I don’t think I could ever make you jump in. But if you were in, and it were my task to make you get out — oh! That would be the ultimate test of my cleverness.”

  For the king these words of victory were sweet. Without a pause, he leapt from the bank into the muddy river. Sri began to laugh as he heard the king say, “Sri Tanonchai, you won’t live another day if you can’t get me out of the water at once. Prove how clever you are right now. Prove your wit to the king.”

  Sri’s face was one big smile. “Your Highness, why don’t you stay there and think for a while? As far as I’m concerned, you may stay in the water forever if you wish. The river is full of tasty fish, and I’ll bring you a dish of rice now and then.”

  The king looked as if he were going to explode when Sri said, “I won your challenge. There is no doubt. You asked me to make you jump into the river, and there you are.”

  The king had no more to say. He had been outwitted. He climbed out of the river as lifeless as a broken toy. He nodded to Sri and said, “You are indeed a clever man!”

  There Is No Such Thing as a Secret

  The king of the country should have been the happiest man in the world. His country was at peace, the paddies produced large quantities of rice, and the royal astrologer predicted great good fortune. To make matters even better, a white elephant had been discovered at the beginning of the king’s reign. With all this good fortune the king should have smiled all day long, but to tell the truth — and you should always tell the truth — the king was miserable. He never, ever smiled.

  Only one person in the kingdom knew why the king was sad. This man was the king’s personal barber. The barber had been sworn to secrecy and he kept the secret very well, so well, in fact, that no one even knew he shared the king’s secret.

  Each day the king looked more worried and depressed. The people in the court began to talk about their majesty’s sad face. Some thought he had a grave illness, but the royal physician said, “He is as healthy as a water buffalo.”

  Others thought the king was worried about the country becoming poor, but the royal treasurer said, “We have more wealth than the kingdom of China. Our royal treasury has chests full of
jewels, our fields are full of rice and our seas are full of fish.”

  Some said the king’s many wives did not love him, but all the royal wives said, “We adore our noble king.”

  Everyone knew the king had a secret worry, but no one knew what it was.

  One day the king’s faithful barber became very ill. The king needed a haircut so a substitute barber was found. The new barber was as excited as a monkey with a handful of bananas. He had never served royalty and the thrill of cutting the king’s hair was almost more than he could bear. He carefully washed his comb, polished his scissors and wrapped them in a clean white towel. He skipped and sang all the way along the road to the palace.

  As soon as the barber arrived, the king himself swore the new barber to secrecy. He said, “You must not tell anyone about anything you might discover today.”

  The substitute barber had one terrible fault. He could not keep a secret. Everything he did and knew gushed out in a fountain of conversation. The barber was aware of his weakness, but the honor of cutting the king’s hair was a rare privilege, so he took the vow and sincerely meant to keep it.

  While he was cutting the king’s hair, he became aware of something very strange. He said, “Your Majesty, now I know why you are sad. You should not let such a little thing trouble you.”

  “I cannot talk about it,” said the king. “Barber, you must keep my secret.” The poor barber hurried home with an uncontrollable desire to tell someone about the king’s secret. He could not sleep. He could not eat. He refused to talk to anyone. The need to share the secret started to grow like a swelling balloon inside him.

  Finally, he could not bear the torture any longer. He hurried from his house and began looking for a lonely place where he could whisper the secret without having anyone hear him. He rowed to the middle of the river, but to his dismay there were fishermen all around him. He walked as far away as he could from the city and wandered on the paths between the rice paddies, but to his dismay there were farmers all around him. He went to the wat, but to his dismay many others had come to the wat and there were people all around him.

  The secret was about to burst. The barber was desperate.

  He ran as fast as he could for as long as he could and then fell on his face in the tall wet grass. When he had rested for a few moments, he rose to his feet and discovered that he was alone in the king’s royal forest. Right beside him was a hollow tree. “This is just the right kind of place. No one can hear me here,” he said.

  The barber wriggled into the hollow tree and shouted out the secret as loudly as he could. No person heard him, but every grain of wood in the tree absorbed the king’s personal secret.

  The barber wriggled out of the tree and sighed with relief. He skipped all the way home, feeling as though he was as light as a butterfly and as free as a breeze. It was, indeed, a wonderful day.

  Not long after this, the royal drum fell apart. It was very old and had had constant use. Each hour the royal servants had beat the drum to tell the passing of time. If there was anything the palace needed, it was a sturdy drum. The royal drum makers went into the forest and selected a tree with fine wood. By coincidence, the very tree they selected was the barber’s hollow tree and every grain of wood in this tree had absorbed the king’s personal secret.

  The drum makers cut down the tree and had the royal elephant haul it into the courtyard. There they made a beautiful drum.

  They carved intricate designs on it and polished it all around. Then they selected the finest oxhide to cover the open end of the drum.

  When the palace officials saw it, they said, “Let’s invite everyone to see and hear this fine drum. Our king looks so glum. Perhaps the new drum will cheer him up.”

  The royal astrologers decided upon the proper day for the celebration. All the important people were invited to come. When the great day arrived a huge crowd gathered in the courtyard. Everyone waited expectantly to hear the boom, boom of the new drum, but the new drum did not say, “Boom, boom, boom.” The drum said, “The king has moles on his head. The king has moles on his head.” It bellowed forth the king’s very own personal secret.

  A boy in the crowd began to giggle. Other people felt like laughing, but they did not dare to smile. Everybody looked at the king. Now they knew why he had been so worried.

  The king frowned and looked very cross. “Bring the substitute barber here,” he shouted.

  The barber’s comb and scissors clicked in his pocket as he stood there trembling in front of the king.

  “Barber, did you tell my very own personal secret to the tree?”

  The barber nodded and told the truth. You should always tell the truth, you know.

  “Release him,” said the king. “Let this be a lesson to all of you.”

  The crowd waited anxiously to hear their king explain. He said, “Do not try to hide a blemish. No one person is perfect, and there is no such thing as a secret.”

  The great drum roared, “The king has moles on his head. The king has moles on his head.”

  The king nodded in agreement, and then he began to smile. His eyes began to sparkle and his face was bright with happiness. The king was happy now because he had absolutely nothing to hide. Everybody knew his secret.

  How the Tiger Got Its Stripes

  Today the tigers in Thailand wear golden fur coats marked with bold black stripes, but the tiger’s coat was not always like this. Long ago, the tiger wore a plain golden coat, like a royal robe. As he stalked along the jungle path, the gibbons, the monkeys, the parakeets and the parrots all admired their handsome king. Without a doubt, the tiger was pleased with the style of his coat. As long as he could remember, everyone had always praised him for it. If only he had not met the old man of the jungle, I do believe the tiger would still be wearing a coat of golden fur today.

  It all happened one day toward the end of the monsoon season, when the rain fell so hard and so fast that it turned jungle paths into rivers. No one could remember a season that had been as wet as this.

  At the time of these great rains, an old man lived near the edge of the dark jungle in a simple bamboo hut placed on posts that were firmly settled in the ground. When the monsoon rains flooded the earth, he was high and dry. At night, when the jungle animals prowled and growled, the old man pulled up his rope ladder and slept soundly. Nothing bothered to come into his house except the little chingchok lizards, of course, and since they ate the mosquitoes, he welcomed them.

  All around his hut was a bamboo fence. Within it there had been a vegetable patch, a mango tree, a betel palm, a clump of banana trees and a pond. But now all you could see was a great pool of water and the tops of the trees. The pigs and chickens that had enjoyed the shade under the hut now lived in the house with their master. Each day the old man of the jungle had asked the guardian spirit of his little place to do something about the rain so that things could return to normal.

  The guardian spirit must have heard him because one day the rain stopped. The old man was very happy. He climbed down his rope ladder and began to work in his muddy yard. At lunchtime he paused to rest under his coconut tree.

  “Ah, there’s a nice coconut up there but I could never reach it without a long, strong coconut knife. Since it is such a beautiful day, I think I’ll go into the jungle and look for rattan grass. I could trade a few bundles of rattan for a coconut knife.”

  He said a prayer to the guardian spirit to ask his blessing for the day’s adventure and went on his way. A hot sun burned overhead. There were no clouds in the bright blue sky. “I guess the rains are almost over,” the old man said.

  When he stepped into the jungle he felt the comfortable, refreshing coolness of shade. He smelled the sweet scent of a flowering vine that reached for the sun and cast a tangled shadow on his path. The pulse of a slight breeze seemed to rise and fall with the echoing call of a yellow jungle bird. The old man wandered deep into the center of the jungle before he paused to take a rest.

  Suddenly,
he felt uneasy. A black shadow had settled all around him. Before he could turn his head to see what it was, a huge golden paw knocked him over. A hot breath blew upon his neck. Then he felt sharp teeth piercing his shoulder. He screamed like a myna bird. The old man of the jungle had been caught by the golden tiger.

  The old man thought fast and began to speak rapidly. “Oh, Phra Tiger, honorable tiger, put me down, put me down! Don’t eat me!” he yelled.

  The tiger tossed the man over and held him under the weight of a heavy front paw.

  The tiger roared, “Speak quickly, old man. I’m hungry.”

  The old man replied, “Eat me if you wish, but if you do, you will be dead by morning.”

  The tiger said, “Old man, you wrap your tongue around your ears. Did you take a good look at yourself this morning? Did you dip up water with a coconut shell and look at your reflection?”

  The old man laughed a little. “That I did, Phra Tiger. That I did. I know if you eat me, you will be dead by morning!”

  The tiger growled and shook his head. “Explain yourself!” he roared.

  “Phra Tiger, honorable tiger, if you free me, I could tie you to the top of a tree with heavy ropes of rattan.”

  “Now why would you want to do a silly thing like that?” said the tiger.

  “Haven’t you heard? A great rain will flood our jungle this evening. All the village men are busy building rafts. I came to pick rattan so they could tie their logs together.”

  The hard gleam in the tiger’s eye began to soften a little. “Phra Tiger, you might fall from the top of a tree. Perhaps I could build a raft for you and tie you to it. Then you would float safely on top of the floodwater instead of being drowned by it.”

  “Hummmrum,” growled the tiger.