September 2. Story of the Day: The Hungry Elephant

This story comes from Indian Fables and Folklore by Shovona Devi. It is no a chain story, but it features a fun series of foodstuffs.

Looking for more stories? Click here for previous Stories-of-the-Day.

THE HUNGRY ELEPHANT

The elephant is a sagacious beast, cautiously feeling his ground before putting his feet forward. There is reason enough for representing Ganesha, the Hindu God of Wisdom, with an elephant's head.

(Ganesha)

Here is a story from an old novel to show how an elephant can use both sense and strength:

Once a crafty old elephant named Futtehgurrh, the Fort-Winner, felt extremely hungry and, breaking loose from his shackles, wandered into a bazar stocked with grain. As soon as the grain-sellers saw him coming they shut up their shops and ran away. One had only time enough to put up the shutters before the elephant came and stood in front of his shop. 

“Ho there! I want some rice,” cried out the elephant. 

“No rice,” said a voice from within. 

“Flour then,” said the elephant. 

“No flour,” was the reply. 

“Ghee then,” said the elephant, again. 

“No ghee,” responded the shopkeeper. 

“Very well, molasses,” cried the elephant, angrily. 

“No molasses,” answered the shopkeeper with a hearty laugh, as if it were a good joke. 

“I’ll find out the truth for myself then,” said the elephant, with a snort. The angry animal butted at the shutters with its full force, and crash! They went to pieces in an instant, and the shopkeeper was discovered in the midst of plenty, tumbling affrighted over his baskets of grain, 

“Oh mercy! mercy ” he cried. “Here is rice ... flour ... ghee... and molasses, O good Futtehgurrh! Take what you will!” 

And Futtehgurrh had such a feast off them as he had never had before in his life.

June 24. Story of the Day: A Rat's Swayamvara

This story comes from Indian Fables and Folklore by Shovona Devi, a Bengali author who was the niece of Rabindranath Tagore. She is also the author of another collection of Indian stories, The Orient Pearls. Here is her portrait, circa 1915:

This story is classified as ATU 2031. Stronger and Strongest. It goes back to the Panchatantra in the Indian tradition, and from India it spread both throughout Asia and also West to Europe. The word swayamvara refers to the ancient Indian for choosing a bridegroom; you can find out more at Wikipedia.

Want more? Click here for previous Stories-of-the-Day.

A RAT'S SWAYAMVARA

A mighty Sage was Yagnavalkya. He would stand in water even in the coldest winter, worshipping the Sun with hands uplifted. One day, as he stood in the Ganges chanting his hymn to the Sun, a baby rat dropped into his hands from the talons of a hawk flying overhead. The Sage gave the wee creature to his wife and asked her to rear it.

"Rear a ratl" exclaimed his wife, laughing. "What a queer idea!"

To please her the Sage turned the rat into a beautiful little girl, for such superhuman powers he had acquired by his austerities.

They had no child of their own, so the woman took great delight in rearing the child. The girl grew up little by little till she bloomed to womanhood, and then the Sage thought of her marriage.

"Let the girl marry the golden Sun," said the Sage to his wife. "There is none mightier than he." 

(Sun Carriage; Murudeshwar India)

So the Sun was summoned, but the girl asked him, "Is there no one mightier than thou, O Sun?"

The Sun was puzzled by the question. However, he said, "The Cloud seems mightier than I, O maiden, for he can obscure my brightness."

So the Sun was dismissed, and the Cloud summoned; but the girl said to it, "Is there no one mightier than thou, O Cloud?"

The Cloud was astounded, but after a pause it made answer. "The Wind seems mightier than I, O maiden, for he drives me whither he likes."

So the Cloud was dismissed, and the Wind summoned; and the girl repeated the same question to it. "Is there no one mightier than thou, O Wind?"

The Wind, too, was taken aback, but said, "The Mountain seems mightier than I, O maiden, for he can stay my blast as none else can."

So the Wind was dismissed, and Mount Himalaya summoned; and the maiden put the same query to it. "Is there no one mightier than thou, O Mountain?"

The Mountain frowned, and thus replied. "The Rat seems mightier than I, O maiden, for he bores holes through me with his teeth."

So the Mountain was dismissed, and a jungle Rat summoned.

"Marry the Rat and be happy," said the Sage to the girl, "for he is of thine own race," and he turned her back into the rat she was at first.

So ended the Rat's Svayamvara.

Devi. Gautama the Ungrateful

From Indian Fables and Folklore by Shovona Devi. The main plot of this story does not feature a chain or series, but look at the wonderful series of animals at the end, and that is why I have included it here.

You can find a long version of this story in the Mahabharata, one of the great epics of ancient India.  The crane in the story is a "prince of cranes" by the name of Rajadharman, and Virupaksha is a king of the rakshasas, or goblins.

GAUTAMA THE UNGRATEFUL

Gautama was a Brahmin reduced to such straits that he used to beg for his meals. One day he met with a stranger and said to him, holding out his right hand with the sacred thread wound round the thumb, "O give me alms in exchange for a Brahmin’s blessing."

The stranger thus accosted was a robber, on his way to steal and murder; so for good luck he offered the Brahmin a coin, instead of robbing him as he had half a mind to do.

"Are you not ashamed to beg, O Brahmin?" said the robber to Gautama, without revealing who he was. "Come with me, and I will see to it that you lack for nothing."

Gautama followed him to his village and lived with him, and in time became a robber himself. For his meals he used to snare birds and kill animals and indulge in all manner of cruelty, hateful to the creed of the true Brahmin.

It so fell out that one day, while he was returning home with a number of bleeding birds tied together by the legs and flung over his shoulder, he met with a Brahmin acquaintance of his.

"Can it be Gautama?" cried the Brahmin, surprised and shocked at his appearance. "What a fall for a Brahmin."

The friends talked together for some time, and Gautama told him the whole story before they parted. The sight of a fellow-Brahmin filled Gautama with a yearning to revisit his own home and people, so he left the village of the robbers secretly by night.

On and on he walked until, wearied out, he lay down under a tree and fell asleep.

In the tree there lived a Crane. Seeing a stranger trusting the hospitality of its tree, it lit fires to frighten off the wild beasts, and itself stood by him, guarding him against harm.

(Crane, circa 1770)

Gautama got up early next morning and was about to resume his journey when the bird thus said to him, "O Brahmin, I must not let you go empty-handed. You must call on my friend Viru-Paksha. He will give you as much gold as you can carry."

Gladly the Brahmin visited Viru-Paksha, and received, even as the bird had told him, a bag full of gold coins. Flinging the bag over his shoulder he trudged along, almost bent down by the weight of the gold. He reached the same tree and lay down beneath it to rest for the night. The bird again came down from the tree, lit fires around, and stood guard over its guest.

Gautama was awake, but pretended to be asleep, and thus thought to himself, "I have still a long distance to go, but have no food with me to eat on the way. It would be wise to kill and roast the bird over the fire, and carry it with me."

Following this wicked resolve, the ungrateful Brahmin wrenched off the head of the Crane, plucked out its feathers, and roasted it over the fire, and then went on his way.

Next morning Viru-paksha waited long for his friend the Crane, but he did not appear, so he sent a messenger to enquire the cause of the delay. When the messenger reached the tree, what should he see but strewn feathers and stains of blood upon the ground beneath. Alas, the poor bird had been murdered!

There, plain enough on the ground, were the footmarks of its murderer.

These he followed up, step by step, until at last he came upon Gautama, whom he seized by the arm, saying, "It was you who slew the pious Crane." For further proof the body of the Crane was found on the Brahmin’s person.

Gautama was taken before Viru-Paksha with the evidence of his crime still fresh upon him. Viru-Paksha ordered the wicked murderer of his friend to be cut to pieces and cast to the dogs and vultures.

Thus died Gautama the Ungrateful, and pieces of his flesh were thrown to the vultures.

"O Vultures! O Vultures!" cried the Executioner; "here is the flesh
of an ungrateful wretch for you to eat."

"We eat not the flesh of the Ungrateful, O Executioner!" replied the vultures.

Next he threw the flesh to the dogs and jackals. "O Dogs and Jackals! O Dogs and Jackals!"’ cried the Executioner; "here is the flesh of an ungrateful wretch for you to eat."

"We eat not the flesh of the Ungrateful, O Executioner!" replied the dogs and jackals.

Thus the vultures, dogs, and jackals refused to touch the meat, and, last of all, it was offered to the worms.

"O Worms! O Worms!" cried the Executioner. "Here is the flesh of an ungrateful wretch for you to eat."

"We eat not the flesh of the Ungrateful, O Executioner!" replied the worms.

So heinous is Ingratitude that not even the vile worms would eat the flesh of the treacherous Gautama.

The vilest creatures, with abhorrence viewed,
Loathe the corruption of Ingratitude.