Phakir Chand (Folk-Tales of Bengal) – Part I

There was a king’s son, and there was a minister’s son. They loved each other dearly; they sat together, they stood up together, they walked together, they ate together, they slept together, they got up together. In this way, they spent many years in each other’s company, till they both felt a desire to see foreign lands.

So one day they set out on their journey. Though very rich, the one being the son of a king and the other the son of his chief minister, they did not take any servants with them; they went by themselves on horseback. The horses were beautiful to look at; they were pakshirajes or kings of birds. The king’s son and the minister’s son rode together for many days. They passed through extensive plains covered with paddy; through cities, towns, and villages; through waterless, treeless deserts; and through dense forests which were the abode of the tiger and the bear.

One evening they were overtaken by night in a region where human habitations were not seen; and as it was getting darker and darker, they dismounted beneath a lofty tree, tied their horses to its trunk, and, climbing up, sat on its branches covered with thick foliage. The tree grew near a large tank, the water of which was as clear as the eye of a crow. The king’s son and the minister’s son made themselves as comfortable as they could on the tree, being determined to spend on its branches the livelong night. They sometimes chatted together in whispers on account of the lonely terrors of the region; they sometimes sat demurely silent for some minutes; and anon they were falling into a doze when their attention was arrested by a terrible sight.

A sound like the rush of many waters was heard from the middle of the tank. A huge serpent was seen leaping up from under the water with its hood of enormous size. It “lay floating many a rood”; then it swam ashore, and went about hissing. But what most of all attracted the attention of the king’s son and the minister’s son was a brilliant manikya (jewel) on the crested hood of the serpent. It shone like a thousand diamonds. It lit up the tank, its embankments, and the objects roundabout. The serpent doffed the jewel from its crest and threw it on the ground, and then it went about hissing in search of food.

The two friends sitting on the tree greatly admired the wonderful brilliant, shedding ineffable lustre on everything around. They had never before seen anything like it; they had only heard of it as equalling the treasures of seven kings. Their admiration, however, was soon changed into sorrow and fear; for the serpent came hissing to the foot of the tree on the branches of which they were seated, and swallowed up, one by one, the horses tied to the trunk. They feared that they would be the next victims, when, to their infinite relief, the gigantic cobra turned away from the tree, and went about roaming to a great distance.

The minister’s son, seeing this, bethought himself of taking possession of the lustrous stone. He had heard that the only way to hide the brilliant light of the jewel was to cover it with cow-dung or horse-dung, a quantity of which latter article he perceived lying at the foot of the tree. He came down from the tree softly, picked up the horse dung, threw it upon the precious stone, and again climbed into the tree. The serpent, not perceiving the light of its head jewel, rushed with great fury to the spot where it had been left. Its hissings, groans, and convulsions were terrible. It went round and round the jewel covered with horse-dung, and then breathed its last.

Early next morning the king’s son and the minister’s son alighted from the tree and went to the spot where the crest-jewel was. The mighty serpent lay there perfectly lifeless. The minister’s son took up in his hand the jewel covered with horse dung, and both of them went to the tank to wash it. When all the horse dung had been washed off, the jewel shone as brilliantly as before. It lit up the entire bed of the tank and exposed to their view the innumerable fishes swimming about in the waters. But what was their astonishment when they saw, by the light of the jewel, in the bottom of the tank, the lofty walls of what seemed a magnificent palace.

The venturesome son of the minister proposed to the prince that they should dive into the waters and get to the palace below. They both dived into the waters—the jewel being in the hand of the minister’s son—and in a moment stood at the gate of the palace. The gate was open. They saw no being, human or superhuman. They went inside the gate and saw a beautiful garden laid out on the ample grounds round about the house which was in the centre.

The king’s son and the minister’s son had never seen such a profusion of flowers. The rose with its many varieties, the jessamine, the bel, the mallika, the king of smells, the lily of the valley, the Champaka, and a thousand other sorts of sweet-scented flowers was there. And of each of these flowers there seemed to be a large number. There were a hundred rose bushes, their many acres covered with the delicious jessamine, while yonder were extensive plantations of all sorts of flowers. As all the plants were begemmed with flowers, and as the flowers were in full bloom, the air was loaded with rich perfume. It was a wilderness of sweets.

Through this paradise of perfumery, they proceeded towards the house, which was surrounded by banks of lofty trees. They stood at the door of the house. It was a fairy palace. The walls were of burnished gold, and here and there shone diamonds of dazzling hue which were stuck into the walls. They did not meet with any beings, human or other. They went inside, which was richly furnished. They went from room to room, but they did not see anyone. It seemed to be a deserted house.

At last, however, they found in one room a young lady lying down, apparently in sleep, on a bed of golden framework. She was of exquisite beauty; her complexion was a mixture of red and white; and her age was apparently about sixteen. The king’s son and the minister’s son gazed upon her with rapture; but they had not stood long when this young lady of superb beauty opened her eyes, which seemed like those of a gazelle.

On seeing the strangers she said: “How have you come here, ye unfortunate men? Begone, begone! This is the abode of a mighty serpent, which has devoured my father, my mother, my brothers, and all my relatives; I am the only one of my family that he has spared. Flee for your lives, or else the serpent will put you both in its capacious maw.”

The minister’s son told the princess how the serpent had breathed its last; how he and his friend had got possession of its head jewel, and by its light had come to her palace. She thanked the strangers for delivering her from the infernal serpent, and begged them to live in the house, and never to desert her. The king’s son and the minister’s son gladly accepted the invitation. The king’s son, smitten with the charms of the peerless princess, married her after a short time; and as there was no priest there, the hymeneal knot was tied by a simple exchange of garlands of flowers.

The king’s son became inexpressibly happy in the company of the princess, who was as amiable in her disposition as she was beautiful in her person; and though the wife of the minister’s son was living in the upper world, he too participated in his friend’s happiness.

Time thus passed merrily, when the king’s son bethought himself of returning to his native country; and as it was fit that he should go with his princess in due pomp, it was determined that the minister’s son should first ascend from the subaqueous regions, go to the king, and bring with him attendants, horses, and elephants for the happy pair. The snake-jewel was therefore had in requisition. The prince, with the jewel in hand, accompanied the minister’s son to the upper world, and bidding adieu to his friend returned to his lovely wife in the enchanted palace. Before leaving, the minister’s son appointed the day and the hour when he would stand on the high embankments of the tank with horses, elephants, and attendants, and wait upon the prince and the princess, who were to join him in the upper world by means of the jewel.

Leaving the minister’s son to wend his way to his country and to make preparations for the return of his king’s son, let us see how the happy couple in the subterranean palace were passing their time.

One day, while the prince was sleeping after his noonday meal, the princess, who had never seen the upper regions, felt the desire to visit them, and the rather as the snake-jewel, which alone could give her safe conduct through the waters, was at that moment shedding its bright effulgence in the room. She took up the jewel in her hand, left the palace, and successfully reached the upper world. No mortal caught her sight. She sat on the flight of steps with which the tank was furnished for the convenience of bathers, scrubbed her body, washed her hair, disported in the waters, walked about on the water’s edge, admired all the scenery around, and returned to her palace, where she found her husband still locked in the embrace of sleep.

When the prince woke up, she did not tell him a word about her adventure. The following day at the same hour, when her husband was asleep, she paid a second visit to the upper world and went back unnoticed by mortal man.

As success made her bold, she repeated her adventure a third time. It so chanced that on that day the son of the Rajah, in whose territories the tank was situated, was out on a hunting excursion, and had pitched his tent not far from the place. While his attendants were engaged in cooking their noon-day meal, the Rajah’s son sauntered about on the embankments of the tank, near which an old woman was gathering sticks and dried branches of trees for purposes of fuel.

It was while the Rajah’s son and the old woman were near the tank that the princess paid her third visit to the upper world. She rose from the waters, gazed around, and seeing a man and a woman on the banks again went down. The Rajah’s son caught a momentary glimpse of the princess, and so did the old woman gathering sticks. The Rajah’s son stood gazing at the waters. He had never seen such a beauty. She seemed to him to be one of those deva-kanyas, heavenly goddesses, of whom he had read in old books, and who is said now and then to favour the lower world with their visits, which, like angel visits, are “few and far between.” The unearthly beauty of the princess, though he had seen her only for a moment, made a deep impression on his heart, and distracted his mind. He stood there like a statue, for hours, gazing at the waters, in the hope of seeing the lovely figure again. But in vain. The princess did not appear again.

The Rajah’s son became mad with love. He kept muttering—“Now here, now gone! Now here, now gone!” He would not leave the place till he was forcibly removed by the attendants who had now come to him. He was taken to his father’s palace in a state of hopeless insanity. He spoke to nobody; he always sobbed heavily; and the only words that proceeded out of his mouth—and he was muttering them every minute—were, “Now here, now gone! Now here, now gone!”

The Rajah’s grief may well be conceived. He could not imagine what should have deranged his son’s mind. The words, “Now here, now gone,” whichever and anon issued from his son’s lips, were a mystery to him; he could not unravel their meaning; neither could the attendants throw any light on the subject. The best physicians in the country were consulted but to no effect. The sons of Æsculapius could not ascertain the cause of the madness, far less could they cure it. To the many inquiries of the physicians, the only reply made by the Rajah’s son was the stereotyped words—“Now here, now gone! Now here, now gone!”