The Disobedient Tortoise

In a certain pond there once lived a tortoise by the name of Kamburgriva (Shell-Neck).
He had two friends who belonged to the goose family and who had grown very fond of
him. One was named Sankata (Small) and the other Vikata (Large). They regularly came
to the pond's bank where they told one another many stories about the wise ones among
the gods, Brahmans, and kings. At sunset they would return to their nests.

However, in the course of time the pond began to dry up, due to the lack of rain. Pained
by this misfortune, the two said, "Alas, friend, this pond has become nothing but mud.
How will you stay alive? Our hearts are saddened."

Hearing this, Kamburgriva said, "I cannot live without water. Let us think of a solution!
For it is said, 'The wise always rush to aid their relatives and friends in time of need.'
Therefore fetch a strong stick and seek a pond that still contains much water. I shall grasp
the stick which you will carry in your teeth from both ends and thus take me to the pond."

"Friend, that we will do!" the two replied, "but you must remain as speechless as a saint
who has taken an oath of silence, lest you fall from the stick and break into pieces."

The tortoise said, "For certain. I promise to say nothing from now until we have landed at
the pond."

They proceeded as planned, and from his flight Kamburgriva looked down upon the city
beneath him, whose startled inhabitants were shouting, "Look! Look! Two birds are
carrying something like a carriage!"

Hearing their cries, Kamburgriva began to speak. He wanted to say, "What are you
shouting about?" but before he had half uttered the words, he fell earthward and was torn
into pieces by the city's inhabitants.

Tapai and the Brahman

A middle-aged Brahman, one cold winter's night, was crossing a wide plain on his way
home. The wind blew shrill and chill, and the wayfarer, Sibu by name, trembled in every
limb. Suddenly, on the left of his path, he saw a fire blazing cheerily, and round it a
number of people enjoying its warmth. What a temptation to warm himself in good
company before continuing his homeward journey!

He came near, and feeling the genial influence of the flame from afar, incautiously
shouted "Tapai, tapai," meaning "I am warmed, I am warmed."

Alas, the creatures round the fire were maleficent ghosts, hideous, distorted, grinning,
sworn enemies of mankind, shouting obscene words with the nasal utterance which
marks their race.
Moreover, one of them was named Tapai, and the ghostly assemblage were mightily
vexed at a mortal's familiar use of their comrade's name. They threatened him with
instant death. The Brahman, in terror, felt for his sacred thread, but it had slipped down.
He strove to repeat the holy names of the gods, but his memory was paralyzed with fear.
But finally the thread came into his hand, and taking heart, he boldly asserted that he
knew Tapai quite well, seeing that Tapai and his ancestors for three generations had been
the slaves of his family.

"Well," cried Tapai, "if he can tell me the names of my ancestors, I will become his bond
servant."

To which the keen-witted priest replied, "How can I be expected to know the names of all
the slaves of my ancestors? But I have them recorded in a ledger at home." On which he
was allowed to depart on condition that he returned on the third day to answer to Tapai's
challenge. Otherwise not only he but his family would perish at the hands of the man-
eating bhutas.

The Brahman went home, saved for the moment, indeed, but filled with despair for the
future. For two miserable days the wretched priest could neither eat nor sleep, and his
wife and daughter and infant son shared his anxiety. The third night, when his family
slept, the miserable man went forth to hang himself in the jungle rather than face his
ghostly foes. But on the very tree he chose for his suicide were two dark forms. He
shuddered, he stood still, but he listened.

It was Tapai and his wife, and the latter, with true feminine curiosity, was asking her
husband the names of his forebears. Of course Tapai had to tell, as every husband does
when his wife presses him. He recited the following verse:

Haramu,
And his son Chharamu,
And his son Apai,
And his son Tapai.
Such was the verse which the Brahman committed to memory, and groping his way home
through the dark forest, faced life with a new confidence. Next evening he went to the
ghostly rendezvous, and the unlucky Tapai followed him home, his submissive slave.

But there was one condition. Tapai would perform all tasks given to him from dawn till
nightfall. But he must be kept occupied all the time. At first the condition seemed easy to
fulfil. The bhuta was ordered to build a palace, raise a noble temple, dig a tank, procure a
bridegroom for the Brahman's daughter, etc., etc. But there are limits to human desires
and human inventiveness, and even the Brahman was, in spite of all the luxury with
which he was now surrounded, a harassed and perplexed mortal.

He was like to die of sheer worry and anxious thought, when his wife came to his rescue.
She plucked a curly hair from her husband's eyebrow. "Give that to the creature," she
said, "and tell him to straighten it."
The poor demon, for once, was at his wit's end. He pulled the hair, and pressed it, and
wetted it. But all in vain. The moment it was released, it curled up again. Finally, at
nightfall, the good Brahman released Tapai, as Prospero released Ariel, and then he and
his family lived happily afterwards!

The Enchanted Brahman's Son

In the city of Radschagriha there lived a Brahman by the name of Devasarman. His
childless wife wept bitterly whenever she saw the neighbors' children. One day the
Brahman said to her, "Dear one, stop your grieving. Behold, I was offering a sacrifice for
the birth of a son when an invisible being said to me in the clearest words, 'Brahman, you
shall be granted this son, and he shall surpass all men in beauty and virtue, and good
fortune shall be his.'"

After hearing this, the Brahman's wife was overjoyed, and she said, "Such promises must
come true." In the course of time she became pregnant and gave birth to a snake. When
her attendants saw it, they all cried out, "Throw it away!" However, she paid no attention
to them, but instead picked it up, had it bathed, and -- filled with a mother's love toward
her son -- laid it in a large, clean container, fed it milk, fresh butter, and the like, so that
within a few days it had reached its full growth.

Once when the Brahman's wife witnessed the wedding feast of a neighbor's son, her eyes
clouded over with tears, and she said to her husband, "You treat me with contempt,
because you are not making any effort at all to arrange a wedding for my dear child!"

When he heard this, the Brahman said, "Honored one! To achieve that I would have to go
to the depths of hell and beseech Pasuki, the King of Snakes, for who else, you fool,
would give his daughter in marriage to a snake?"

Having said this, he looked at his wife with her exceedingly sad face, and -- for the sake
of her love and in order to pacify her -- he took some travel provisions and departed for a
foreign land. After traveling about for several months he came to a place by the name of
Kukutanagara. There, as evening fell, he was received by an acquaintance, a member of
his caste. He was given a bath, food, and every necessity, and he spent the night there.

The next morning he took leave and was preparing to set forth once again, when his host
said, "What brought you to this place, and where are you going now?"

The Brahman answered, "I have come to seek an appropriate bride for my son."

After hearing this, the host said, "If that is the case, then I have a very appropriate
daughter. I have only respect for you. Take her for your son!" Acting upon these words,
the Brahman took the girl, together with her servants, and returned to his home city.
However, when the inhabitants of this region saw the girl, who was beautiful, gifted, and
charming beyond comparison, they opened their eyes wide with love for her, and said to
her attendants, "How could you deliver such a jewel of a girl to a snake?"
After hearing this, all of her companions were horrified, and they said, "She must be
rescued from the murderer set up by this old Brahman."

Hearing this, the maiden said, "Spare me from such deception, for behold:

Kings speak but once. The virtuous speak but once. A girl is promised in marriage but
once. These three things happen but once.
And further:
Not even wise men and gods can change the decrees of fate.
And moreover, my father shall not be reproached for his daughter's falseness."

Having said that, and with the permission of her attendants, she married the snake. She
showed him proper respect, and served him milk and similar things.

One night the snake left his large basket, which was kept in the bedroom, and climbed
into his wife's bed. She cried out, "Who is this creature, shaped like a man?"

Thinking it was a strange man, she jumped up. Shaking all over, she tore open the door
and wanted to rush away, when the snake said, "Dear one! Stay here! I am your
husband!" To convince her of this, he once again entered the body that he had left in the
basket, then left it again. He was wearing a magnificent diadem, rings, bands, and
bracelets on his upper and lower arms. His wife fell at his feet. Then together they
partook of the joys of love.

His father, the Brahman, had arisen earlier than his son, and saw everything. He took the
snake skin, which was lying in the basket, and burned it in the fire, saying, "He shall not
enter it again." Later that morning, filled with joy, he presented his son to his family.
Vitalized by unending love, he became an ideal son.

The Timid Hare and the Flight of the Beasts

Once upon a time when Brahmadatta reigned in Benares, the Bodhisatta [the future
Buddha] came to life as a young lion. And when fully grown he lived in a wood. At this
time there was near the Western Ocean a grove of palms mixed with vilva trees.

A certain hare lived here beneath a palm sapling, at the foot of a vilva tree. One day this
hare, after feeding, came and lay down beneath the young palm tree. And the thought
struck him, "If this earth should be destroyed, what would become of me?"

And at this very moment a ripe vilva fruit fell on a palm leaf. At the sound of it, the hare
thought, "This solid earth is collapsing," and starting up he fled, without so much as
looking behind him. Another hare saw him scampering off, as if frightened to death, and
asked the cause of his panic flight.

"Pray, don't ask me," he said.

The other hare cried, "Pray, sir, what is it?" and kept running after him.
Then the hare stopped a moment and without looking back said, "The earth here is
breaking up."

And at this the second hare ran after the other. And so first one and then another hare
caught sight of him running, and joined in the chase till one hundred thousand hares all
took to flight together. They were seen by a deer, a boar, an elk, a buffalo, a wild ox, a
rhinoceros, a tiger, a lion, and an elephant. And when they asked what it meant and were
told that the earth was breaking up, they too took to flight. So by degrees this host of
animals extended to the length of a full league.

When the Bodhisatta saw this headlong flight of the animals, and heard the cause of it
was that the earth was coming to an end, he thought, "The earth is nowhere coming to an
end. Surely it must be some sound which was misunderstood by them. And if I don't
make a great effort, they will all perish. I will save their lives."

So with the speed of a lion he got before them to the foot of a mountain, and lion-like
roared three times. They were terribly frightened at the lion, and stopping in their flight
stood all huddled together. The lion went in amongst them and asked why there were
running away.

"The earth is collapsing," they answered.

"Who saw it collapsing?" he said.
"The elephants know all about it," they replied.
He asked the elephants. "We don't know," they said, "the lions know."
But the lions said, "We don't know, the tigers know."
The tigers said, "The rhinoceroses know."
The rhinoceroses said, "The wild oxen know."
The wild oxen, "the buffaloes."
The buffaloes, "the elks."
The elks, "the boars."
The boars, "the deer."
The deer said, "We don't know; the hares know."
When the hares were questioned, they pointed to one particular hare and said, "This one
told us."
So the Bodhisatta asked, "Is it true, sir, that the earth is breaking up?"
"Yes, sir, I saw it," said the hare.
"Where," he asked, "were you living, when you saw it?"

"Near the ocean, sir, in a grove of palms mixed with vilva trees. For as I was lying
beneath the shade of a palm sapling at the foot of a vilva tree, methought, 'If this earth
should break up, where shall I go?' And at that very moment I heard the sound the
breaking up of the earth, and I fled."

Thought the lion, "A ripe vilva fruit evidently must have fallen on a palm leaf and made a
'thud,' and this hare jumped to the conclusion that the earth was coming to an end, and ran
away. I will find out the exact truth about it."
So he reassured the herd of animals, and said, "I will take the hare and go and find out
exactly whether the earth is coming to an end or not, in the place pointed out by him.
Until I return, do you stay here." Then placing the hare on his back, he sprang forward
with the speed of a lion, and putting the hare down in the palm grove, he said, "Come,
show us the place you meant."

"I dare not, my lord," said the hare.

"Come, don't be afraid," said the lion.

The hare, not venturing to go near the vilva tree, stood afar off and cried, "Yonder, sir, is
the place of dreadful sound," and so saying, he repeated the first stanza:

From the spot where I did dwell

Issued forth a fearful "thud";
What it was I could not tell,
Nor what caused it understood.
After hearing what the hare said, the lion went to the foot of the vilva tree, and saw the
spot where the hare had been lying beneath the shade of the palm tree, and the ripe vilva
fruit that fell on the palm leaf, and having carefully ascertained that the earth had not
broken up, he placed the hare on his back and with the speed of a lion soon came again to
the herd of beasts.

Then he told them the whole story, and said, "Don't be afraid." And having thus reassured
the herd of beasts, he let them go.

Verily, if it had not been for the Bodhisatta at that time, all the beasts would have rushed
into the sea and perished. It was all owing to the Bodhisatta that they escaped death.

Alarmed at sound of fallen fruit

A hare once ran away,
The other beasts all followed suit
Moved by that hare's dismay.
They hastened not to view the scene,
But lent a willing ear
To idle gossip, and were clean
Distraught with foolish fear.
They who to Wisdom's calm delight
And Virtue's heights attain,
Though ill example should invite,
Such panic fear disdain.

The Cat Who Became a Queen

"Ah me! Ah me! What availeth my marriage with all these women? Never a son has the
Deity vouchsafed me. Must I die, and my name be altogether forgotten in the land?" Thus
soliloquized one of the greatest monarchs that ever reigned in Kashmir, and then went to
his zanána [the apartment where his wives lived], and threatened his numerous wives
with banishment if they did not bear him a son within the next year.

The women prayed most earnestly to the god Shiva to help them to fulfil the king's
desire, and waited most anxiously for several months, hoping against hope, till at last
they knew that it was all in vain, and that they must dissemble matters if they wished to
remain in the royal household.

Accordingly, on an appointed time, word was sent to the king that one of his wives was
enciente, and a little while afterwards the news was spread abroad that a little princess
was born. But this, as we have said, was not so. Nothing of the kind had happened. The
truth was, that a cat had given birth to a lot of kittens, one of which had been appropriated
by the king's wives.

When his majesty heard the news he was exceedingly glad, and ordered the child to be
brought to him -- a very natural request, which the king's wives had anticipated, and
therefore were quite prepared with a reply. "Go and tell the king," said they to the
messenger, "that the Brahmans have declared that the child must not be seen by her father
until she is married." Thus the matter was hushed for a time.

Constantly did the king inquire after his daughter, and received wonderful accounts of her
beauty and cleverness; so that his joy was great. Of course he would like to have had a
son, but since the Deity had not condescended to fulfil his desire, he comforted himself
with the thought of marrying his daughter to some person worthy of her, and capable of
ruling the country after him. Accordingly, at the proper time he commissioned his
counselors to find a suitable match for his daughter. A clever, good, and handsome prince
was soon found, and arrangements for the marriage were quickly concluded.

What were the king's wives to do now? It was of no use for them to attempt to carry on
their deceit any longer. The bridegroom would come and would wish to see his wife, and
the king, too, would expect to see her.

"Better," said they, "that we send for this prince and reveal everything to him, and take
our chance of the rest. Never mind the king. Some answer can be made to satisfy him for
a while."

So they sent for the prince and told him everything, having previously made him swear
that he would keep the secret, and not reveal it even to his father or mother. The marriage
was celebrated in grand style, as became such great and wealthy kings, and the king was
easily prevailed on to allow the palanquin containing the bride to leave the palace without
looking at her. The cat only was in the palanquin, which reached the prince's country in
safety. The prince took great care of the animal, which he kept locked up in his own
private room, and would not allow anyone, not even his mother, to enter it.

One day, however, while the prince was away, his mother thought that she would go and
speak to her daughter-in-law from outside the door. "O daughter-in-law," she cried, "I am
very sorry that you are shut up in this room and not permitted to see anybody. It must be
very dull for you. However, I am going out today; so you can leave the room without fear
of seeing anyone. Will you come out?"

The cat understood everything, and wept much, just like a human being. Oh those bitter
tears! They pierced the mother's heart, so that she determined to speak very strictly to her
son on the matter as soon as he should return. They also reached the ears of Párvatí [the
wife of Shiva], who at once went to her lord and entreated him to have mercy on the poor
helpless cat.

"Tell her," said Shiva, "to rub some oil over her fur, and she will became a beautiful
woman. She will find the oil in the room where she now is."

Párvatí lost no time in disclosing this glad news to the cat, who quickly rubbed the oil
over its body, and was changed into the most lovely woman that ever lived. But she left a
little spot on one of her shoulders which remained covered with cat's fur, lest her husband
should suspect some trickery and deny her.

In the evening the prince returned and saw his beautiful wife, and was delighted. Then all
anxiety as to what he should reply to his mother's earnest solicitations fled. She had only
to see the happy, smiling, beautiful bride to know that her fears were altogether needless.

In a few weeks the prince, accompanied by his wife, visited his father-in-law, who, of
course, believed the princess to be his own daughter, and was glad beyond measure. His
wives too rejoiced, because their prayer had been heard and their lives saved. In due time
the king settled his country on the prince, who eventually ruled over both countries, his
father's and his father-in-law's, and thus became the most illustrious and wealthy monarch
in the world.

The Dog Bride

Once upon a time there was a youth who used to herd buffaloes; and as he watched his
animals graze he noticed that exactly at noon every day a she-dog used to make its way to
a ravine, in which there were some pools of water. This made him curious and he
wondered to whom it belonged and what it did in the ravine. So he decided to watch, and
one day when the dog came he hid himself and saw that when it got to the water, it shed
its dog skin, and out stepped a beautiful maiden and began to bathe. And when she had
finished bathing she put on the skin and became a dog again, and went off to the village.
The herdboy followed her and watched into what house she entered, and he inquired to
whom the house belonged. Having found out all about it, he went back to his work.

That year the herdboy's father and mother decided that it was time for him to marry and
began to look about for a wife for him. But he announced that he had made up his mind
to have a dog for his wife, and he would never marry a human girl.
Everyone laughed at him for such an extraordinary idea, but he could not be moved. So at
last they concluded that he must really have the soul of a dog in him, and that it was best
to let him have his own way. So his father and mother asked him whether there was any
particular dog he would like to have for his bride, and then he gave the name of the man
into whose house he had tracked the dog that he had seen going to the ravine. The master
of the dog laughed at the idea that anyone should wish to marry her, and gladly accepted
a bride's price for her. So a day was fixed for the wedding and the booth built for the
ceremony, and the bridegroom's party went to the bride's house, and the marriage took
place in due form, and the bride was escorted to her husband's house.

Every night when her husband was asleep, the bride used to come out of the dog's skin
and go out of the house. And when her husband found out this, he one night only
pretended to go to sleep and lay watching her. And when she was about to leave the room
he jumped up and caught hold of her and seizing the dog skin, threw it into the fire,
where it was burnt to ashes. So his bride remained a woman, but she was of more than
human beauty. This soon became known in the village, and everyone congratulated the
herdboy on his wisdom in marrying a dog.

Now the herdboy had a friend named Jitu, and when Jitu saw what a prize his friend had
got, he thought that he could not do better than marry a dog himself. His relations made
no objection, and a bride was selected, and the marriage took place, but when they were
putting vermilion on the bride's forehead she began to growl; but in spite of her growling
they dragged her to the bridegroom's house, and forcibly anointed her with oil and
turmeric. But when the bride's party set off home, the dog broke loose and ran after them.
Then everyone shouted to Jitu to run after his bride and bring her back, but she only
growled and bit at him, so that he had at last to give it up.

Then everyone laughed at him so much that he was too ashamed to speak, and two or
three days later he hanged himself.

The Daydreamer
Once an oil man was going to market with his pots of oil arranged on a flat basket, and he
engaged a Santal for two annas to carry the basket. And as he went along, the Santal
thought: With one anna I will buy food and with the other I will buy chickens, and the
chickens will grow up and multiply, and then I will sell some of the fowls and eggs, and
with the money I will buy goats.

And when the goats increase, I will sell some and buy cows, and then I will exchange
some of the calves for she-buffaloes, and when the buffaloes breed, I will sell some and
buy land and start cultivation, and then I will marry and have children, and I will hurry
back from my work in the fields, and my wife will bring me water, and I will have a rest,
and my children will say to me, "Father, be quick and wash your hands for dinner," but I
will shake my head and say, 'No, no, not yet!"
And as he thought about it he really shook his head, and the basket fell to the ground, and
all the pots of oil were smashed.

Then the oil man abused him and said that he must pay two rupees for the oil and one
anna for the pots. But the Santal said that he had lost much more than that, and the oil
man asked him how that could be, and the Santal explained how with his wages he was
going to get fowls and then goats and then oxen and buffaloes and land, and how he came
to spill the basket, and at that the oil man roared with laughter and said, "Well, I have
made up the account, and I find that our losses are equal, so we will cry quits."

And so saying they went their ways laughing.