June 11. Story of the Day: Hungry Giant

Here is another story that Suniti Namjoshi has contributed to the project: thank you, Suniti! You can find out more about Suniti Namjoshi's work here, and here are the other stories she has contributed: The Cat Shrine and The Brahmin and his Small Gods.

I am really glad to have a story about a giant; any respectable folklore project needs at least one giant! As you will see, the story is about a chain of unexpected consequences, something like the proverb for want of a nail. With her chain of consequences, the quick-witted mother makes the giant stop and think. Which is hard work for a giant, of course.

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

THE HUNGRY GIANT

by Suniti Namjoshi

A giant, who was looking for something to eat, once came across three small children. He was about to snatch one of them, when their mother shrieked and explained to the giant that that particular child was destined for greatness and would bring great glory to the entire nation.  Surely the giant didn’t want everyone to miss out on that? The giant wasn’t sure whether he cared about glory, but as the woman seemed certain that it was something he should care about, he shrugged and said, “Oh, all right, I’ll take this other child.”

The woman shrieked more loudly than ever. “That child,” she told the giant, “will be able to produce a sack of grain where only one grain grew before.”

This was clearly useful to a hungry giant, so he let the child go.

He seized the third child. He was determined to hang on to this one.  “He looks perfectly ordinary,” the giant told the woman, “and won’t be missed much.”

“You’re right,” she agreed. “The world won’t miss him. But he will do something that will save your life.”

“He can’t save my life,” the giant roared. “He’s a puny thing.”

“That’s true,” said the woman. “But one day he’ll go fishing and catch the fish that would have been caught by the royal chef and served to the king’s only son − that is if my boy hadn’t caught it first.”

“So what?” The giant shrugged.

“Had the king’s son been served the fish, a fishbone would have got stuck in his throat and he would have choked.”

 “And what’s that to me?” the giant retorted.

“Had the king’s son lived, he would have killed a boar that roams through the forest,” the woman continued.

“Who cares about boars?” the giant growled.

“You do,” the woman told him. “Had the prince not killed the boar, that boar would have gored you as you lay asleep.”

“A boar can’t kill me!” the giant scoffed.

“No, but the boar would have wounded you, and a wandering giant would have attacked instantly and slain you on the spot.”

The giant frowned. “What if I kill the boar?” he asked.

“How many boars can you kill?” replied the woman. “It has to be the boar that the prince was destined to kill.”

“What if I caught the fish?” the giant demanded. Then he went on before she could speak, “Yes, all right, how many fish can I catch?  I’m getting confused. What should I do?”

“You should walk away and think things through,” the woman advised him.

And that’s what he did, so that the woman and her three children lived long happy lives, as did the giant, who was vastly relieved that none of the dreadful things that might have happened ever came true.

Photo by Jan Hammershaug: The 46 feet high troll is guarding the entrance to the fairy tale grotto at Hunderfossen Familypark.

CHAIN: giant kills boy, so boy doesn't catch fish; prince chokes on fish, so he doesn't kill boar; boar wounds giant, so another giant kills him

May 23. Story of the Day: The Brahmin and his Small Gods

For today's story, I offer another contribution from Suniti Namjoshi (see her previous story here: The Cat Shrine). This time, she has taken one of the 19th-century stories and reworked it. You can compare the versions and see what you think! Here is the Mukharji version she started from: The Brahman and His Idols ... and her version is below. She has made so many important little changes, starting with the title itself: not "idols" now, but "small gods." Details matter.

She says:

I was trying to stay as close to the original as possible; but realised that in spite of myself I was altering it in accordance with my own mindset. For example, as a feminist I’ve given  the brahmin’s wife a greater role, and as someone with a Hindu background I’ve tried to make it clear that what is being worshipped is the divinity inherent in creation, not the objects themselves...  Rewriting someone else’s work, as opposed to writing one’s own stories – though I’m not sure there’s a hard and fast difference – is a strangely disturbing experience. Try it!☺

When stories are in the public domain, like all the 19th-century folktales and nursery rhymes you will find at this site, they are just waiting to be told again, made new by storytellers who change the old stories to suit themselves and to share with their own audiences. If you have a story retelling you would like to contribute to this site, let me know! There's contact information in the blog sidebar.

Now if only we knew something more about Mukharji's source(s) and other versions of this story from the farther past. If I learn anything more about that, I will be sure to add those versions to the site.

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

THE BRAHMIN AND HIS SMALL GODS

(by Suniti Namjoshi, from Ram Satya Mukharji)

There was once a brahmin who was happy enough worshipping the household gods. He would bring them flowers, light incense and bow his head in reverence. He and his wife led a contented life, until it occurred to him that he ought to find out which of his gods was the most powerful. The question obsessed him. He meditated, he worried, he even took to wandering the streets and asking people. They thought he was mad, which in a way he was.

He went to the forest [as people tend to do in Indian stories] and there he met a woodcutter. The woodcutter told him that the most powerful god was probably the one who could best withstand a blacksmith’s hammer. The brahmin borrowed a hammer and smashed all the gods, except a small Shri Krishna which was made of bronze. He started to worship the bronze god alone and threw the rest into a well.

This was desecration.  His wife tried to bring him to his senses, but it was no use.  As he saw it, he was doing his duty. He brought the god small offerings of fruit and milk and completely ignored everything and everybody. One day he noticed that his offerings were being consumed. The god had accepted them! He was overjoyed and he became more devout than ever.

Then he saw a rat in the little room set aside for the gods, and he realised that it was the rat who’d been eating all the food. He caught the rat, threw Shri Krishna into the well, and began to worship the rat instead. The rat was clearly more powerful than the god had been. What’s more, now the brahmin could actually see his offerings being accepted.

This went on for a while till a cat got the rat. Obviously, the cat was more powerful, and the cat got installed in the rat’s place.  The cat enjoyed being a goddess. She drank huge quantities of milk. She drank so much that the brahmin’s wife got more and more annoyed. And when the cat overturned a pan of milk, the brahmin’s wife threw the kitchen knife at her. The cat died.

The brahmin’s wife worried about this; she needn’t have. Her husband decided instantly that his wife was more powerful than the cat had ever been.  He made her his goddess. She hated it. She had to sit absolutely still. One day when she shifted her knees a little, the Brahmin hit her so hard she was knocked unconscious. He did his best to revive her, but it was evident to him that she wasn’t all that powerful. He must be the most powerful one! He must look within.

When he did so, he understood at last that it was the Divine Power – the Great Force or  Maha Shakti – within him and in all things that ought to be venerated. He learnt to respect himself and the whole of creation. Gradually the small gods returned to their household, and in the course of time both husband and wife achieved liberation.

(Mahashakti)

CHAIN: man worships bronze god - rat - cat - wife - self

May 17. Story of the Day: Suniti Namjoshi's The Cat Shrine

Today's story is something special: Suniti Namjoshi, whom I recently became acquainted with thanks to her ingenious new novel, Aesop the Fox, has contributed a modern chain tale of her own devising. It is the first original story included in this project!

Even better: there is an invitation for readers to add their own chain inside the story. With that invitation, Suniti has anticipated what is my own long-term goal for this project, which is to inspire people to write their own modern chain tales and, if they want, to share them at this site.

And for people who want to find out more about Suniti Namjoshi and her career as a writer and storyteller, I've created an author page here: Suniti Namjoshi. For more of her stories, I highly recommend The Fabulous Feminist: A Suniti Namjoshi Reader.

Thank you so much, Suniti!

And for previous stories-of-the-day at this site, just click here.

THE CAT SHRINE

In a small town in western India there’s a shrine to a saintly cat. It’s said of this cat that she never displayed anger no matter what the provocation, at least not after she had taken her vow. Cats are not worshipped in India. They are in no way regarded as particularly sacred, and there have been no divine incarnations that anyone knows about.  That’s what makes this story so extraordinary, but, as it happened quite recently, it may be easily verified.

One day the cat got so tired of being told to drink up her milk and eat up her biscuits, which she disliked, that she lashed out at her mistress. She hadn’t meant to scratch her, let alone draw blood. But she did draw blood and the scratch got infected. A doctor was summoned and the cat’s mistress was given antibiotics. The poor woman was allergic to them and died. The doctor was held responsible, a case was brought against him and very soon he lost all his patients. He committed suicide. The cat was appalled by what was happening.

The doctor’s wife, who was now destitute, took to begging with her six children trailing behind her. They had no practice and were no good at it; and so one by one they died. The townspeople felt that the least they could do was cremate them all on a makeshift pyre. As this was done hastily, the fire spread throughout the town, and caused havoc.

[Invitation to add to the chain of events here.]

The cat felt awful. Much that shouldn’t have happened had happened and would happen, and much that might have happened would never happen now – and all this because she had scratched her mistress.

She resolved never to be angry again. The rain might fall on her, the sun beat down on her, people might say what they liked to her and dogs bark at her, she would not protest. She wouldn’t even snarl, she would just sit there sphinx-like and look serene.

And that’s what she did. People would come up to her and she would look at them with her beautiful, emerald eyes. Gradually they began to bring flowers and saucers of milk and snacks she could eat if she felt like. The story spread that if she happened to blink while they were sitting at her feet, it meant that their wishes would be granted. A shrine was erected when at last she died.

People visit it regularly, only now they have no way of knowing if their wishes will be granted. They’re working on it. They say to each other, “A good deed or a bad deed can lead to a good thing or a bad thing. There’s just no telling.”  And indeed, that has become something of a motto, if not a moral.

This doesn’t mean that the good townsfolk go about committing bad deeds with abandon. They don’t. They spend most of their time sitting at the Cat Shrine trying to understand what it all means. Then they make up stories.

(This painting, "Carpet Cat" by J. Sharkey Thomas, has a story of its own: "The rug was intended for the floor, but when I draped it above a shelf to analyze it, 'Ludvig', one of my regular models, immediately made himself at home on it, - and insisted on being painted thus." Painting for sale at Nature Artists.)


CHAIN: cat scratches - woman dies - doctor sued - doctor suicide - family begs - family dies - pyre fire