September 18. Story of the Day: Sparrow and Crow

This story comes from Flora Annie Steel's Tales of the Punjab.

This is yet another example of ATU 2030. The Old Woman and her Pig.

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

THE SPARROW AND THE CROW

A sparrow and a crow once agreed to have khichrî for dinner. So the Sparrow brought rice, and the Crow brought lentils, and the Sparrow was cook, and when the khichrî was ready, the Crow stood by to claim his share.

'Who ever heard of any one sitting down to dinner so dirty as you are?' quoth the Sparrow scornfully. 'Your body is quite black, and your head looks as if it were covered with ashes. For goodness gracious sake, go and wash in the Pond first.'

The Crow, though a little huffy at being called dirty, deemed it best to comply, for he knew what a determined little person the Sparrow was; so he went to the Pond, and said—

  'Your name, sir, is Pond,
    But my name is Crow.
  Please give me some water,
    For if you do so
  I can wash beak and feet
    And the nice khichrî eat;
  Though I really don't know
    What the Sparrow can mean,
  For I'm sure, as Crows go,
    I'm remarkably clean!'

But the Pond said, 'Certainly I will give you water; but first you must go to the Deer, and beg him to lend you a horn. Then with it you can dig a nice little rill for the water to flow in clean and fresh.'

So the Crow flew to the Deer, and said—

  'Your name, sir, is Deer,
    But my name is Crow.
  Oh, give me a horn, please,
    For if you do so
  I can dig a clean rill
  For the water to fill;
  Then I'll wash beak and feet
  And the nice khichrî eat;
  Though I really don't know
    What the Sparrow can mean,
  For I'm sure, as Crows go,
    I'm remarkably clean!'

But the Deer said, 'Certainly I will give you a horn; but first you must go to the Cow, and ask her to give you some milk for me to drink. Then I shall grow fat, and not mind the pain of breaking my horn.'

So the Crow flew off to the Cow, and said—

  'Your name, ma'am, is Cow,
    But my name is Crow.
  Oh, give me some milk, please,
    For if you do so
  The pain will be borne,
  Deer will give me his horn,
  And I'll dig a clean rill
  For the water to fill;
  Then I'll wash beak and feet
  And the nice khichrî eat;
  Though I really don't know
    What the Sparrow can mean,
  For I'm sure, as Crows go,
    I'm remarkably clean!'

But the Cow said, 'Certainly I will give you milk, only first you must bring me some Grass; for who ever heard of a cow giving milk without grass?'

So the Crow flew to some Grass, and said—

  'Your name, sir, is Grass,
    But my name is Crow.
  Oh, give me some blades, please,
    For if you do so
  Madam Cow will give milk
  To the Deer sleek as silk;
  The pain will be borne,
  He will give me his horn,
  And I'll dig a clean rill
  For the water to fill;
  Then I'll wash beak and feet
  And the nice khichrî eat;
  Though I really don't know
    What the Sparrow can mean,
  For I'm sure, as Crows go,
    I'm remarkably clean!'

But the Grass said, 'Certainly I will give you Grass; but first you must go to the Blacksmith, and ask him to make you a sickle. Then you can cut me, for who ever heard of Grass cutting itself?'

So the Crow went to the Blacksmith, and said—

  'Your name, sir, is Smith,
    But my name is Crow.
  Please give me a sickle,
    For if you do so
  The Grass I can mow
  As food for the Cow;
  Madam Cow will give milk
  To the Deer sleek as silk;
  The pain will be borne,
  He will give me his horn,
  And I'll dig a clean rill
  For the water to fill;
  Then I'll wash beak and feet
  And the nice khichrî eat;
  Though I really don't know
    What the Sparrow can mean,
  For I'm sure, as Crows go,
    I'm remarkably clean!'

'With pleasure,' said the Blacksmith, 'if you will light the fire and blow the bellows.'

So the Crow began to light the fire, and blow the bellows, but in so doing he fell right in—to—the—very—middle—of—the—fire, and was burnt!

So that was the end of him, and the Sparrow ate all the khichrî.

NOTES

The Song.—The form of words in the original is important. The following gives the variants and the strict translation—

Tû Chhappar Dâs, Main Kâng Dâs, Deo paneriyâ, Dhoven chucheriyâ, Khâwen khijeriyâ, Dekh chiriyâ kâ chûchlâ, Main kâng sapariyâ.

  You are Mr. Tank,
  I am Mr. Crow,
  Give me water,
  That I may wash my beak,
  And eat my khichrî,
  See the bird's playfulness,
  I am a clean crow.

Tû Lohâr Dâs, Main Kâng Dâs, Tû deo pharwâ, Main khodûn ghasarwâ, Khilâwen bhainsarwâ, Chowen dûdharwâ, Pilâwen hirnarwâ, Toren singarwâ, Khôden chalarwâ, Nikâlen panarwâ, Dhoven chunjarwâ, Khâwen khijarwâ, Dehk chiriyâ kâ chûchlâ, Main kâng saparwâ.

  You are Mr. Blacksmith,
  I am Mr. Crow,
  You give me a spade,
  And I will dig the grass,
  That I may give it the buffalo to eat,
  And take her milk,
  And give it the deer to drink,
  And break his horn,
  And dig the hole,
  And take out the water,
  And wash my beak,
  And eat my khichrî,
  See the bird's playfulness,
  I am a clean crow.

May 19. Story of the Day: Lambikin

Today's story is another one from Tales of the Punjab by Flora Annie Steel, and once again she provides the Punjabi words for the little songs that are part of the story (see her notes below).

This is ATU 122F Wait till I am Fat Enough, which is a tale type that is not based on a chain, and this is the only chain example I have found (so far anyway). This story, however, does have a chain which is reminiscent of the fleeing pancake. In this case, the lamb goes through a series of encounters on his way to his grandmother's, and then meets with those same animals in reverse on his way back home, starting ominously with a jackal (who often plays a role like that of the fox in Europe), which means the jackal will be the last creature he confronts on the return.

As often, the author did not include the full chain, but I have taken the liberty of adding them in to the story here. You can see Steel's (shorter) version online at Internet Archive.

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

THE LAMBIKIN

Once upon a time there was a wee wee Lambikin, who frolicked about on his little tottery legs, and enjoyed himself amazingly.

Now one day he set off to visit his Granny, and was jumping with joy to think of all the good things he should get from her, when whom should he meet but a Jackal, who looked at the tender young morsel and said—'Lambikin! Lambikin! I'll eat you!'

But Lambikin only gave a little frisk, and said—
  'To Granny's house I go,
  Where I shall fatter grow,
  Then you can eat me so.'

   Nânî kol jâwângû: 
   Motâ tâjâ âwângâ 
   Pher tûn main nûn khâwângâ.

The Jackal thought this reasonable, and let Lambikin pass.

By and by he met a Vulture, and the Vulture, looking hungrily at the tender morsel before him, said—'Lambikin! Lambikin! I'll eat you!'

But Lambikin only gave a little frisk, and said—
  'To Granny's house I go,
  Where I shall fatter grow,
  Then you can eat me so.'

The Vulture thought this reasonable, and let Lambikin pass.

And by and by he met a Tiger, who likewise said—'Lambikin! Lambikin! I'll eat you!'

But Lambikin only gave a little frisk, and said—
  'To Granny's house I go,
  Where I shall fatter grow,
  Then you can eat me so.'

The Tiger thought this reasonable, and let Lambikin pass.

Next he met a Wolf, who likewise said—'Lambikin! Lambikin! I'll eat you!'

But Lambikin only gave a little frisk, and said—
  'To Granny's house I go,
  Where I shall fatter grow,
  Then you can eat me so.'

The Wolf thought this reasonable, and let Lambikin pass.

Then he met a Dog, who also said—'Lambikin! Lambikin! I'll eat you!'

But Lambikin only gave a little frisk, and said—
  'To Granny's house I go,
  Where I shall fatter grow,
  Then you can eat me so.'

The Dog thought this reasonable, and let Lambikin pass.

Finally he met an Eagle, who, when he saw the tender little morsel, said—
'Lambikin! Lambikin! I'll eat you!'

But Lambikin replied, with a little frisk—
  'To Granny's house I go,
  Where I shall fatter grow,
  Then you can eat me so.'

The Eagle thought this reasonable, and so he too let Lambikin pass.

At last he reached his Granny's house, and said, all in a great hurry, 'Granny, dear, I've promised to get very fat; so, as people ought to keep their promises, please put me into the corn-bin at once!

So his Granny said he was a good boy, and put him into the corn-bin, and there the greedy little Lambikin stayed for seven days, and ate, and ate, and ate, until he could scarcely waddle, and his Granny said he was fat enough for anything, and must go home. But cunning little Lambikin said that would never do, for some animal would be sure to eat him on the way back, he was so plump and tender.

'I'll tell you what you must do,' said Master Lambikin,' you must make a little drumikin out of the skin of my little brother who died, and then I can sit inside and trundle along nicely, for I'm as tight as a drum myself.'

So his Granny made a nice little drumikin out of his brother's skin, with the wool inside, and Lambikin curled himself up snug and warm in the middle, and trundled away gaily.

Soon he met with the Eagle, who called out—
  'Drumikin! Drumikin!
  Have you seen Lambikin?'

And Mr. Lambikin, curled up in his soft warm nest, replied—
  'Lost in the forest, and so are you,
  On, little Drumikin! Tum-pa, tum-too!'

   Wan piâ lelkarâ: wan pî tû. 
   Chal dhamkiriâ! Dham! Kâ! Dhû!

'How very annoying!' sighed the Eagle, thinking regretfully of the tender morsel he had let slip.

Meanwhile Lambikin trundled along, laughing to himself, and singing—
  'Tum-pa, tum-too;
  Tum-pa, tum-too!'

Then he met the Dog, who asked him the same question—
  'Drumikin! Drumikin!
  Have you seen Lambikin?'

And to the Dog that little sly-boots replied—
  'Lost in the forest, and so are you,
  On, little Drumikin! Tum-pa, tum-too;
  Tum-pa, turn-too; Tum-pa, tum-too!'

Then the Dog sighed to think of the tender little morsel he had let slip.

Next he met the Wolf, who asked him the same question—
  'Drumikin! Drumikin!
  Have you seen Lambikin?'

And to the Wolf the Lambikin replied—
  'Lost in the forest, and so are you,
  On, little Drumikin! Tum-pa, tum-too;
  Tum-pa, turn-too; Tum-pa, tum-too!'

Then the Wolf sighed to think of the tender little morsel he had let slip.

Then he met the Tiger, who asked him the question—
  'Drumikin! Drumikin!
  Have you seen Lambikin?'

And to the Tiger the Lambikin replied—
  'Lost in the forest, and so are you,
  On, little Drumikin! Tum-pa, tum-too;
  Tum-pa, turn-too; Tum-pa, tum-too!'

Then the Tiger sighed to think of the tender little morsel he had let slip.

And again he met the Vulture, who asked him the question—
  'Drumikin! Drumikin!
  Have you seen Lambikin?'

And to the Vulture the Lambikin replied—
  'Lost in the forest, and so are you,
  On, little Drumikin! Tum-pa, tum-too;
  Tum-pa, turn-too; Tum-pa, tum-too!'

Then the Vulture sighed to think of the tender little morsel he had let slip.

At last the Jackal came limping along, for all his sorry looks as sharp as a needle, and he too called out—
  'Drumikin! Drumikin!
  Have you seen Lambikin?'

And Larnbikin, curled up in his snug little nest, replied gaily—
  'Lost in the forest, and so are you,
  On, little Drumikin! Tum-pa—'

But he never got any further, for the Jackal recognised his voice at once, and cried, 'Hullo! you've turned yourself inside out, have you? Just you come out of that!'

Whereupon he tore open Drumikin and gobbled up Lambikin.


NOTES

Lambikin.—The words used were Panjâbî: lelâ, lerâ, lekrâ, and lelkarâ, a small or young lamb.

Lambikin's Songs.—Of the first the words were Panjâbî—

Nânî kol jâwângû:
Motâ tâjâ âwângâ
Pher tûn main nûn khâwângâ.

Of the second song—

Wan piâ lelkarâ: wan pî tû.
Chal dhamkiriâ! Dham! Kâ! Dhû!

These the rhymes render exactly. The words dham, kâ, dhû are pronounced sharply, so as to imitate the beats on a drum.

Drumikin.—The dhamkîriâ or dhamkirî in Panjâbî is a small drum made by stretching leather across a wide-mouthed earthen cup (piyâlâ). The Jatts make it of a piece of hollow wood, 6 inches by 3 inches, with its ends covered with leather.


CHAIN: jackal vulture tiger wolf dog eagle

May 15. Story of the Day: The Rat's Wedding

Today's story comes from Tales of the Punjab by Flora Annie Steel. Click that link to see some more stories from this book. The lovely illustrations are by J. Lockwood Kipling, Rudyard Kipling's father. I have added a few notes in brackets to define terms used in the story.

This would be considered an example of TMI Z47 Series of trick exchanges, although in the rat's defense, he is not tricking anyone; as you will see, he is mostly fooling himself!

It was while reading this story (in a version by Morris Fenris) that I decided I wanted to embark on this project. I've always been a fan of chain tales, and seeing the wild rise and fall of this ambitious rat is what convinced me to spend this summer creating a collection of chain tales!

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

THE RAT'S WEDDING

Once upon a time a fat sleek Rat was caught in a shower of rain, and being far from shelter he set to work and soon dug a nice hole in the ground, in which he sat as dry as a bone while the raindrops splashed outside, making little puddles on the road.

Now in the course of his digging he came upon a fine bit of root, quite dry and fit for fuel, which he set aside carefully—for the Rat is an economical creature—in order to take it home with him. So when the shower was over, he set off with the dry root in his mouth.

As he went along, daintily picking his way through the puddles, he saw a poor man vainly trying to light a fire, while a little circle of children stood by, and cried piteously.

'Goodness gracious!' exclaimed the Rat, who was both soft-hearted and curious, 'what a dreadful noise to make! What is the matter?'

'The bairns are hungry,' answered the man; 'they are crying for their breakfast, but the sticks are damp, the fire won't burn, and so I can't bake the cakes.'

'If that is all your trouble, perhaps I can help you,' said the good-natured Rat; 'you are welcome to this dry root, and I'll warrant it will soon make a fine blaze.'

The poor man, with a thousand thanks, took the dry root, and in his turn presented the Rat with a morsel of dough, as a reward for his kindness and generosity.

'What a remarkably lucky fellow I am!' thought the Rat, as he trotted off gaily with his prize, 'and clever too! Fancy making a bargain like that—food enough to last me five days in return for a rotten old stick! Wah! wah! wah! what it is to have brains!'

Going along, hugging his good fortune in this way, he came presently to a potter's yard, where the potter, leaving his wheel to spin round by itself, was trying to pacify his three little children, who were screaming and crying as if they would burst.

'My gracious!' cried the Rat, stopping his ears, 'what a noise!—do tell me what it is all about.'

'I suppose they are hungry,' replied the potter ruefully; 'their mother has gone to get flour in the bazaar, for there is none in the house. In the meantime I can neither work nor rest because of them.'

'Is that all!' answered the officious Rat; 'then I can help you. Take this dough, cook it quickly, and stop their mouths with food.'

The potter overwhelmed the Rat with thanks for his obliging kindness, and choosing out a nice well-burnt pipkin [a small pot], insisted on his accepting it as a remembrance.

The Rat was delighted at the exchange, and though the pipkin was just a trifle awkward for him to manage, he succeeded after infinite trouble in balancing it on his head, and went away gingerly, tink-a-tink, tink-a-tink, down the road, with his tail over his arm for fear he should trip on it. And all the time he kept saying to himself, 'What a lucky fellow I am! and clever too! Such a hand at a bargain!'

By and by he came to where some neatherds were herding their cattle. One of them was milking a buffalo [a water buffalo], and having no pail he used his shoes instead.

'Oh fie! oh fie!' cried the cleanly Rat, quite shocked at the sight. 'What a nasty dirty trick!—why don't you use a pail?'

'For the best of all reasons—we haven't got one!' growled the neatherd [cowherd], who did not see why the Rat should put his finger in the pie.

'If that is all,' replied the dainty Rat, 'oblige me by using this pipkin, for I cannot bear dirt!'

The neatherd, nothing loath, took the pipkin, and milked away until it was brimming over; then turning to the Rat, who stood looking on, said, 'Here, little fellow, you may have a drink, in payment.'

But if the Rat was good-natured he was also shrewd. 'No, no, my friend,' said he, 'that will not do! As if I could drink the worth of my pipkin at a draught! My dear sir, I couldn't hold it! Besides, I never make a bad bargain, so I expect you at least to give me the buffalo that gave the milk.'

'Nonsense!' cried the neatherd; 'a buffalo for a pipkin! Who ever heard of such a price? And what on earth could you do with a buffalo when you got it? Why, the pipkin was about as much as you could manage.'

At this the Rat drew himself up with dignity, for he did not like allusions to his size. 'That is my affair, not yours,' he retorted; 'your business is to hand over the buffalo.'

So just for the fun of the thing, and to amuse themselves at the Rat's expense, the neatherds loosed the buffalo's halter and began to tie it to the little animal's tail.

'No! no!' he called, in a great hurry; 'if the beast pulled, the skin of my tail would come off, and then where should I be? Tie it round my neck, if you please.'

So with much laughter the neatherds tied the halter round the Rat's neck, and he, after a polite leave-taking, set off gaily towards home with his prize; that is to say, he set off with the rope, for no sooner did he come to the end of the tether than he was brought up with a round turn; the buffalo, nose down grazing away, would not budge until it had finished its tuft of grass, and then seeing another in a different direction marched off towards it, while the Rat, to avoid being dragged, had to trot humbly behind, willy-nilly.

He was too proud to confess the truth, of course, and, nodding his head knowingly to the neatherds, said, 'Ta-ta, good people! I am going home this way. It may be a little longer, but it's much shadier.' And when the neatherds roared with laughter he took no notice, but trotted on, looking as dignified as possible.

'After all,' he reasoned to himself, 'when one keeps a buffalo one has to look after its grazing. A beast must get a good bellyful of grass if it is to give any milk, and I have plenty of time at my disposal.'

So all day long he trotted about after the buffalo, making believe; but by evening he was dead tired, and felt truly thankful when the great big beast, having eaten enough, lay down under a tree to chew the cud.

Just then a bridal party came by. The bridegroom and his friends had evidently gone on to the next village, leaving the bride's palanquin to follow; so the palanquin bearers, being lazy fellows and seeing a nice shady tree, put down their burden, and began to cook some food.

'What detestable meanness!' grumbled one; 'a grand wedding, and nothing but plain rice pottage to eat! Not a scrap of meat in it, neither sweet nor salt! It would serve the skinflints right if we upset the bride into a ditch!'

'Dear me!' cried the Rat at once, seeing a way out of his difficulty, 'that is a shame! I sympathise with your feelings so entirely that if you will allow me I'll give you my buffalo. You can kill it, and cook it.'

'Your buffalo!' returned the discontented bearers, 'what rubbish! Whoever heard of a rat owning a buffalo?'

'Not often, I admit,' replied the Rat with conscious pride; 'but look for yourselves. Can you not see that I am leading the beast by a string?'

'Oh, never mind the string!' cried a great big hungry bearer; 'master or no master, I mean to have meat to my dinner!'

Whereupon they killed the buffalo, and, cooking its flesh, ate their dinner with relish; then, offering the remains to the Rat, said carelessly, 'Here, little Rat-skin, that is for you!'

'Now look here!' cried the Rat hotly; 'I'll have none of your pottage, nor your sauce either. You don't suppose I am going to give my best buffalo, that gave quarts and quarts of milk—the buffalo I have been feeding all day—for a wee bit of rice? No!—
I got a loaf for a bit of stick;
I got a pipkin for a little loaf;
I got a buffalo for a pipkin;
and now I'll have the bride for my buffalo—
the bride, and nothing else!'

By this time the servants, having satisfied their hunger, began to reflect on what they had done, and becoming alarmed at the consequences, arrived at the conclusion it would be wisest to make their escape whilst they could. So, leaving the bride in her palanquin, they took to their heels in various directions.

The Rat, being as it were left in possession, advanced to the palanquin, and drawing aside the curtain, with the sweetest of voices and best of bows begged the bride to descend.

She hardly knew whether to laugh or to cry, but as any company, even a Rat's, was better than being quite alone in the wilderness, she did as she was bidden, and followed the lead of her guide, who set off as fast as he could for his hole.

As he trotted along beside the lovely young bride, who, by her rich dress and glittering jewels, seemed to be some king's daughter, he kept saying to himself, 'How clever I am! What bargains I do make, to be sure!'

When they arrived at his hole, the Rat stepped forward with the greatest politeness, and said, 'Welcome, madam, to my humble abode! Pray step in, or if you will allow me, and as the passage is somewhat dark, I will show you the way.'

Whereupon he ran in first, but after a time, finding the bride did not follow, he put his nose out again, saying testily, 'Well, madam, why don't you follow? Don't you know it's rude to keep your husband waiting?'

'My good sir,' laughed the handsome young bride, 'I can't squeeze into that little hole!'

The Rat coughed; then after a moment's thought he replied, 'There is some truth in your remark—you are overgrown, and I suppose I shall have to build you a thatch somewhere. For to-night you can rest under that wild plum-tree.'

'But I am so hungry!' said the bride ruefully.

'Dear, dear! everybody seems hungry to-day!' returned the Rat pettishly; 'however, that's easily settled—I'll fetch you some supper in a trice.'

So he ran into his hole, returning immediately with an ear of millet and a dry pea.

'There!' said he, triumphantly, 'isn't that a fine meal?'

'I can't eat that!' whimpered the bride; 'it isn't a mouthful; and I want rice pottage, and cakes, and sweet eggs, and sugar-drops. I shall die if I don't get them!'

'Oh dear me!' cried the Rat in a rage, 'what a nuisance a bride is, to be sure! Why don't you eat the wild plums?'

'I can't live on wild plums!' retorted the weeping bride; 'nobody could; besides, they are only half ripe, and I can't reach them.'

'Rubbish!' cried the Rat; 'ripe or unripe, they must do you for to-night, and to-morrow you can gather a basketful, sell them in the city, and buy sugar-drops and sweet eggs to your heart's content!'

So the next morning the Rat climbed up into the plum-tree, and nibbled away at the stalks till the fruit fell down into the bride's veil. Then, unripe as they were, she carried them into the city, calling out through the streets—

'Green plums I sell! green plums I sell!
Princess am I, Rat's bride as well!'

As she passed by the palace, her mother the Queen heard her voice, and, running out, recognised her daughter. Great were the rejoicings, for every one thought the poor bride had been eaten by wild beasts.

In the midst of the feasting and merriment, the Rat, who had followed the Princess at a distance, and had become alarmed at her long absence, arrived at the door, against which he beat with a big knobby stick, calling out fiercely,
'Give me my wife! give me my wife!
She is mine by fair bargain.
I gave a stick and I got a loaf;
I gave a loaf and I got a pipkin;
I gave a pipkin and I got a buffalo;
I gave a buffalo and I got a bride.
Give me my wife! give me my wife!'

'La! son-in-law! what a fuss you do make!' said the wily old Queen, through the door, 'and all about nothing! Who wants to run away with your wife? On the contrary, we are proud to see you, and I only keep you waiting at the door till we can spread the carpets, and receive you in style.'

Hearing this, the Rat was mollified, and waited patiently outside whilst the cunning old Queen prepared for his reception, which she did by cutting a hole in the very middle of a stool, putting a red-hot stone underneath, covering it over with a stew-pan-lid, and then spreading a beautiful embroidered cloth over all.

Then she went to the door, and receiving the Rat with the greatest respect, led him to the stool, praying him to be seated.

'Dear! dear! how clever I am! What bargains I do make, to be sure!' said he to himself as he climbed on to the stool. 'Here I am, son-in-law to a real live Queen! What will the neighbours say?'

At first he sat down on the edge of the stool, but even there it was warm, and after a while he began to fidget, saying, 'Dear me, mother-in-law! how hot your house is! Everything I touch seems burning!'

'You are out of the wind there, my son,' replied the cunning old Queen; 'sit more in the middle of the stool, and then you will feel the breeze and get cooler.'

But he didn't! for the stewpan-lid by this time had become so hot, that the Rat fairly frizzled when he sat down on it; and it was not until he had left all his tail, half his hair, and a large piece of his skin behind him, that he managed to escape, howling with pain, and vowing that never, never, never again would he make a bargain!

NOTES

Pipkin—Gharâ, the common round earthen pot of India, known to Anglo-Indians as 'chatty' (châtî).

Quarts of milk—The vernacular word was ser, a weight of 2 lbs.; natives always measure liquids by weight, not by capacity.

Wild plum-tree—Ber, several trees go by this name, but the species usually meant are (1) the Zizyphus jujuba, which is generally a garden tree bearing large plum-like fruit: this is the Pomum adami of Marco Polo; (2) the Zizyphus nummularia, often confounded with the camel-thorn, a valuable bush used for hedges, bearing a small edible fruit. The former is probably meant here.—See Stewart's Punjab Plants, pp. 43-44.

Millet—Pennisetum italicum, a very small grain.

Green plums I sell, etc.—The words are—

  Gaderî gader! gaderî gader!

  Râjâ dî betî chûhâ le giâ gher.

     Green fruit! green fruit!

     The rat has encompassed the Râjâ's daughter.

Stool—Pîrhî, a small, low, square stool with a straight upright back, used by native women.

Stewpan-lid—Sarposh, usually the iron or copper cover used to cover degchîs or cooking-pots.


CHAIN: root - dough - pipkin - buffalo - bride

May 12. Story of the Day: Grain of Corn

Today's story comes from Tales of the Punjab by Flora Annie Steel. You can click that link to see more stories from this book.

This is yet another example of ATU 2030. The Old Woman and her Pig.

Flora Steel has adapted the Punjabi version in order to add some rhyme to her English version (the crow fights with the farmer's wife for its life) and the result is a fun story in English, but make sure you read the notes at the bottom for the actual Punjabi version; Steel has added some elements to her version and removed others. For example, in the Punjabi version the elephant threatens to drink the sea!

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

THE GRAIN OF CORN

Once upon a time a farmer's wife was winnowing corn, when a crow, flying past, swooped off with a grain from the winnowing basket and perched on a tree close by to eat it. The farmer's wife, greatly enraged, flung a clod at the bird with so good an aim that the crow fell to the ground, dropping the grain of corn, which rolled into a crack in the tree.

The farmer's wife, seeing the crow fall, ran up to it, and seizing it by the tail, cried, 'Give me back my grain of corn, or I will kill you!'

The wretched bird, in fear of death, promised to do so, but, lo and behold! when he came to search for the grain, it had rolled so far into the crack that neither by beak nor claw could he reach it.

So he flew off to a woodman, and said—

  'Man! man! cut tree;
  I can't get the grain of corn
  To save my life from the farmer's wife!'

But the woodman refused to cut the tree; so the crow flew on to the
King's palace, and said—

  'King! king! kill man;
  Man won't cut tree;
  I can't get the grain of corn.
  To save my life from the farmer's wife!'

But the King refused to kill the man; so the crow flew on to the
Queen, and said—

    'Queen! Queen! coax King;
    King won't kill man;
    Man won't cut tree;
    I can't get the grain of corn
    To save my life from the farmer's wife!'

But the Queen refused to coax the King; so the crow flew on till he met a snake, and said—

    'Snake! snake! bite Queen;
    Queen won't coax King;
    King won't kill man;
    Man won't cut tree;
    I can't get the grain of corn
    To save my life from the farmer's wife!'

But the snake refused to bite the Queen; so the crow flew on till he met a stick, and said—

    'Stick! stick! beat snake;
    Snake won't bite Queen;
    Queen won't coax King;
    King won't kill man;
    Man won't cut tree;
    I can't get the grain of corn
    To save my life from the farmer's wife!'

But the stick refused to beat the snake; so the crow flew on till he saw a fire, and said—

    'Fire! fire! burn stick;
    Stick won't beat snake;
    Snake won't bite Queen;
    Queen won't coax King;
    King won't kill man;
    Man won't cut tree;
    I can't get the grain of corn
    To save my life from the farmer's wife!'

But the fire refused to burn the stick; so the crow flew on till he met some water, and said—

    'Water! water! quench fire;
    Fire won't burn stick;
    Stick won't beat snake;
    Snake won't bite Queen;
    Queen won't coax King;
    King won't kill man;
    Man won't cut tree;
    I can't get the grain of corn
    To save my life from the farmer's wife!'

But the water refused to quench the fire; so the crow flew on till he met an ox, and said—

    'Ox! ox! drink water;
    Water won't quench fire;
    Fire won't burn stick;
    Stick won't beat snake;
    Snake won't bite Queen;
    Queen won't coax King;
    King won't kill man;
    Man won't cut tree;
    I can't get the grain of corn
    To save my life from the farmer's wife!'

But the ox refused to drink the water; so the crow flew on till he met a rope, and said—

    'Rope! rope! bind ox;
    Ox won't drink water;
    Water won't quench fire;
    Fire won't burn stick;
    Stick won't beat snake;
    Snake won't bite Queen;
    Queen won't coax King;
    King won't kill man;
    Man won't cut tree;
    I can't get the grain of corn
    To save my life from the farmer's wife!'

But the rope wouldn't bind the ox; so the crow flew on till he met a mouse, and said—

    'Mouse! mouse! gnaw rope;
    Rope won't bind ox;
    Ox won't drink water;
    Water won't quench fire;
    Fire won't burn stick;
    Stick won't beat snake;
    Snake won't bite Queen;
    Queen won't coax King;
    King won't kill man;
    Man won't cut tree;
    I can't get the grain of corn
    To save my life from the farmer's wife!'

But the mouse wouldn't gnaw the rope; so the crow flew on until he met a cat, and said—

    'Cat! cat! catch mouse;
    Mouse won't gnaw rope;
    Rope won't bind ox;
    Ox won't drink water;
    Water won't quench fire;
    Fire won't burn stick;
    Stick won't beat snake;
    Snake won't bite Queen;
    Queen won't coax King;
    King won't kill man;
    Man won't cut tree;
    And I can't get the grain of corn
    To save my life from the farmer's wife!'

The moment the cat heard the name of mouse, she was after it; for the world will come to an end before a cat will leave a mouse alone.

    'So the cat began to catch the mouse,
    The mouse began to gnaw the rope,
    The rope began to bind the ox,
    The ox began to drink the water,
    The water began to quench the fire,
    The fire began to burn the stick,
    The stick began to beat the snake,
    The snake began to bite the Queen,
    The Queen began to coax the King,
    The King began to kill the man,
    The man began to cut the tree;
    So the crow got the grain of corn,
    And saved his life from the farmer's wife!'

NOTES
[LKG: I have rearranged Steel's presentation of the English and Punjabi texts to make them easier to see in tandem, interweaving the items.]

Usne kahâ, 'Lap, lap, khâûngî!'

  The cat said, 'I will eat him up at once!'

Phir gîâ mûsâ ke pâs, 
'Mûsâ, re mûsâ, ab khâ jâoge?' 
'Ham bhî nâre katenge.'
  [The cat] went to the mouse,
  'Mouse, mouse, will you be eaten?'

  [Mouse] 'I will gnaw the thong.'

Phir gîâ nâre ke pâs, 
'Nâre, re nâre, ab kâte jâoge?' 
'Ham bhî hâthî bandhenge.'
  [The mouse] went to the thong,
  'Thong, thong, will you be gnawed?'

  [Thong] 'I will bind the elephant.'

Phir gîâ hâthî ke pâs, 
'Hâthî, re hâthî, ab bandhe jâoge?' 
'Ham bhî samundar sûkhenge.'
  [The thong] went to the elephant,
  'Elephant, elephant, will you be bound?'

  [Elephant] 'I will drink up the ocean.'

Phir gîâ samundar ke pâs, 
'Samundar, re samundar, ab sukhe jâoge?' 
'Ham bhî âg bujhâenge.'
  [The elephant] went to the ocean,
  'Ocean, ocean, will you be drunk up?'

  [Ocean] 'I will quench the fire.'

Phir gîâ âg ke pâs, 
'Âg, rî âg, ab bujhâî jâogi?' 
'Ham bhî lâthî jalâvenge.'
  [The ocean] went to the fire,
  'Fire, fire, will you be quenched?'

  [Fire] 'I will burn the stick.'

Phir gîâ lâthî ke pâs, 
'Lâthî, re lâthî, ab jal jâoge?' 
'Ham bhî sâmp mârenge.'
  [The fire] went to the stick,
  'Stick, stick, will you be burnt?'

  [Stick] 'I will beat the snake.'

Phir gîâ samp ke pâs, 
'Sâmp, re sâmp, ab mâre jâoge?' 
'Ham bhî rânî dasenge?'
  [The stick] went to the snake,
  'Snake, snake, will you be beaten?'

  [Snake] 'I will bite the queen.'

Phir gîâ rânî ke pâs, 
'Rânî, rî rânî, ab dasî jâoge?' 
'Ham bhî râjâ rusenge.'
  [The snake] went to the queen,
  'Queen, queen, will you be bitten?'

  [Queen] 'I will storm at the king.'

Phir gîâ râjâ ke pâs, 
'Râjâ, re raja, ab rânî rus jâoge?' 
'Ham bhî khâtî dândenge.'
  [The queen] went to the king,
  'King, king, will you be stormed at by the queen?'

  [King] 'I will beat the woodman.'

Phir gîâ khâtî ke pâs,'
'Khâtî, re khâtî, ab dande jâoge?' 
'Ham bhî khund kâtenge.'
  [The king] went to the woodman,
  'Woodman, woodman, will you be beaten?'

  [Woodman] 'I will cut down the trunk.'

Phir gîâ khund ke pâs, 
'Khund, re khund, ab kâte jâoge?' 
'Ham bhî chanâ denge.'
  [The woodman] went to the trunk,
  'Trunk, trunk, will you be cut down?'

  [Trunk] 'I will give you the pea.'

~  ~  ~

Phir gîâ billî ke pâs,
  He then went to the cat (saying),
'Billî, rî billî, mûsâ khâogî'
  'Cat, cat, eat mouse.
Khâtî khûnd pâr nâ!
  Woodman won't cut tree!
Khûnd chanâ de nâ!
  Tree won't give peas!
Râjâ khâtî dande nâ!
  King won't beat woodman!
Râjâ rânî russe nâ!
  Queen won't storm at king!
Sapnâ rânî dase nâ!
  Snake won't bite queen!
Lâthî sapnâ mâre nâ!
  Stick won't beat snake!
Âg lâthî jalâve nâ!
  Fire won't burn stick!
Samundar âg bujhâve nâ!
  Sea won't quench fire!
Hâthî samundar sukhe nâ!
  Elephant won't drink up sea!
Nâre hâthî bandhe nâ!
  Thong won't bind elephant!
Mûsâ nâre kâte nâ!
  Mouse won't nip thong!
Lûngâ phir chorûn? nâ!'
  I'll take (the pea) yet, I won't let it go!'


CHAIN (English): crow - corn - tree - man - king - queen - snake - stick - fire - water - ox - rope - mouse - cat

CHAIN (Punjabi): bird - pea - tree - woodman - king - queen - snake - stick - fire - sea - elephant - thong - mouse - cat

Steel. Peasie and Beansie

from Tales of the Punjab by Flora Annie Steel

This is not in the TMI, but it is a great example of a doubled and repeated chain (plum-tree, fire, pipal-tree, stream), both for Peasie (she helps and is rewarded) and once for Beansie (she does not help and is punished).

PEASIE AND BEANSIE

Once upon a time there were two sisters, who lived together; but while the elder, Beansie by name, was a hard quarrelsome creature, apt to disagree with everybody, Peasie, the younger, was soft and most agreeable.

Now, one day, Peasie, who was for ever trying to please somebody, said to her sister, 'Beansie, my dear! don't you think we ought to pay a visit to our poor old father? He must be dull now—it is harvest time, and he is left alone in the house.'

'I don't care if he is!' replied Beansie. 'Go yourself! I'm not going to walk about in the heat to please any old man!'

So kind Peasie set off alone, and on the way she met a plum-tree. 'Oh, Peasie!' cried the tree, 'stop a bit, there's a good soul, and tidy up my thorns a little; they are scattered about so that I feel quite uncomfortable!'

'So they are, I declare!' returned Peasie, and forthwith set to work with such a will that ere long the tree was as neat as a new pin.

A little farther on she met a fire, and the fire cried out, 'Oh, sweet
Peasie! tidy up my hearth a bit, for I am half choked in the ashes!'
'So you are, I declare!' returned good-natured Peasie, setting herself to clear them away, until the fire crackled and flamed with pleasure.

Farther on she met a pîpal tree, and the pîpal called out, 'Oh, kind Peasie! bind up this broken branch for me, or it will die, and I shall lose it!'

'Poor thing! poor thing!' cried soft-hearted Peasie; and tearing a bandage from her veil, she bound up the wounded limb carefully.

After a while she met a stream, and the stream cried out, 'Pretty Peasie! clear away the sand and dead leaves from my mouth, for I cannot run when I am stifled!'

'No more you can!' quoth obliging Peasie; and in a trice she made the channel so clear and clean that the water flowed on swiftly.

At last she arrived, rather tired, at her old father's house, but his delight at seeing her was so great that he would scarcely let her away in the evening, and insisted on giving her a spinning-wheel, a buffalo, some brass pots, a bed, and all sorts of things, just as if she had been a bride going to her husband. These she put on the buffalo's back, and set off homewards.

Now, as she passed the stream, she saw a web of fine cloth floating down.

'Take it, Peasie, take it!' tinkled the stream; 'I have carried it far, as a reward for your kindness.'

So she gathered up the cloth, laid it on the buffalo, and went on her way.

By and by she passed the pîpal tree, and lo! on the branch she had tied up hung a string of pearls.

'Take it, Peasie, take it!' rustled the pîpal; 'I caught it from a Prince's turban as a reward for your kindness.'

Then she took the pearls, fastened them round her pretty slender throat, and went on her way rejoicing.

Farther on she came to the fire, burning brightly, and on it was a girdle with a nice hot sweet-cake.

'Take it, Peasie, take it!' crackled the fire; 'I have cooked it to a turn, in reward for your kindness.'

So lucky Peasie took the nice hot cake, and, dividing it into two pieces, put one aside for her sister, and ate the other while she went on her way.

Now when she reached the plum-tree, the topmost branches were bending down, covered with ripe yellow fruit.

'Take some, Peasie, take some!' groaned the laden tree; 'I have ripened these as a reward for your kindness.'

So she gathered her veil full, and eating some, set the rest aside for her sister; but when she arrived at home, instead of being pleased at her little sister's good fortune and thoughtfulness, disagreeable Beansie nearly cried with spite and envy, and was so cross, that poor little sweet Peasie became quite remorseful over her own luck, and suggested that her sister might be equally fortunate if she also went to visit her father.

So, next morning, greedy Beansie set off to see what she could get from the old man. But when she came to the plum-tree, and it cried out, 'Oh, Beansie! stop a bit and tidy up my thorns a little, there's a good soul!' the disobliging Beansie tossed her head, and replied, 'A likely story! Why, I could travel three miles in the time it would take me to settle up your stupid old thorns! Do it yourself!'

And when she met the pîpal tree, and it asked her to tie up its broken branch, she only laughed, saying, 'It doesn't hurt me, and I should have walked three miles in the time it would take to set it right; so ask somebody else!'

Then when the fire said to her, 'Oh, sweet Beansie! tidy up my hearth a bit, for I am half choked by my ashes,' the unkind girl replied, 'The more fool you for having ashes! You don't suppose I am going to dawdle about helping people who won't help themselves? Not a bit of it!'

So when she met the stream, and it asked her to clear away the sand and the dead leaves which choked it, she replied, 'Do you imagine I'm going to stop my walk that you may run? No, no!—every one for himself!'

At last she reached her father's house, full of determination not to go away without a heavy load for at least two buffaloes, when, just as she was entering the courtyard, her brother and his wife fell upon her, and whacked her most unmercifully, crying, 'So this is your plan, is it? Yesterday comes Peasie, while we were hard at work, and wheedles her doting old father out of his best buffalo, and goodness knows what else besides, and to-day you come to rob us! Out of the house, you baggage!'

With that they hounded her away, hot, tired, bruised, and hungry.

'Never mind!' said she, to console herself, 'I shall get the web of cloth yet!'

Sure enough, when she crossed the stream, there was a web, three times as fine as Peasie's, floating close to the shore, and greedy Beansie went straight to get it; but, alas! the water was so deep that she was very nearly drowned, while the beautiful cloth floated past her very fingers. Thus all she got for her pains was a ducking.

'Never mind!' thought she, 'I'll have the string of pearls!'

Yes, there it hung on the broken branch; but when Beansie jumped to catch it, branch and all fell right on her head, so that she was stunned. When she came to herself, some one else had walked off with the pearls, and she had only a bump on her head as big as an egg.

All these misfortunes had quite wearied her out; she was starving with hunger, and hurried on to the fire, hoping for a nice hot sweet girdle-cake.

Yes, there it was, smelling most deliciously, and Beansie snatched at it so hastily that she burnt her fingers horribly and the cake rolled away. Before she had done blowing at her fingers and hopping about in pain, a crow had carried off the cake, and she was left lamenting.

'At any rate, I'll have the plums!' cried miserable Beansie, setting off at a run, her mouth watering at the sight of the luscious yellow fruit on the topmost branches. First she held on to a lower branch with her left hand, and reached for the fruit with the right; then, when that was all scratched and torn by the thorns, she held on with her right, and tried to get the fruit with the left, but all to no avail; and when face and hands were all bleeding and full of prickles, she gave up the useless quest, and went home, bruised, beaten, wet, sore, hungry, and scratched all over, where I have no doubt her kind sister Peasie put her to bed, and gave her gruel and posset.

NOTES

Peasie and Beansie, p. 167.—In the original Motho and Mûngo. Motho is a vetch, Phaseolus aconitifolius; and mûng is a variety of pulse, Phaseolus mungo. Peasie and Beansie are very fair translations of the above.


Plum-tree, p. 167.—Ber, Zizyphus jujuba.

Steel. Poor Hen-Sparrow

From Tales of the Punjab by Flora Annie Steel, with illustrations J. Lockwood Kipling.

TMI Z32.2 The death of the little hen = ATU 2022

THE DEATH AND BURIAL OF POOR HEN-SPARROW

Once upon a time there lived a cock-sparrow and his wife, who were both growing old. But despite his years the cock-sparrow was a gay, festive old bird, who plumed himself upon his appearance, and was quite a ladies' man. So he cast his eyes on a lively young hen, and determined to marry her, for he was tired of his sober old wife. The wedding was a mighty grand affair, and everybody as jolly and merry as could be, except of course the poor old wife, who crept away from all the noise and fun to sit disconsolately on a quiet branch just under a crow's nest, where she could be as melancholy as she liked without anybody poking fun at her.

Now while she sat there it began to rain, and after a while the drops, soaking through the crow's nest, came drip-dripping on to her feathers; she, however, was far too miserable to care, and sat there all huddled up and peepy till the shower was over. Now it so happened that the crow had used some scraps of dyed cloth in lining its nest, and as these became wet the colours ran, and dripping down on to the poor old hen-sparrow beneath, dyed her feathers until she was as gay as a peacock.

Fine feathers make fine birds, we all know, and she really looked quite spruce; so much so, that when she flew home, the new wife nearly burst with envy, and asked her at once where she had found such a lovely dress.

'Easily enough,' replied the old wife; 'I just went into the dyer's vat.'

The bride instantly determined to go there also. She could not endure the notion of the old thing being better dressed than she was, so she flew off at once to the dyer's, and being in a great hurry, went pop into the middle of the vat, without waiting to see if it was hot or cold. It turned out to be just scalding; consequently the poor thing was half boiled before she managed to scramble out. Meanwhile, the gay old cock, not finding his bride at home, flew about distractedly in search of her, and you may imagine what bitter tears he wept when he found her, half drowned and half boiled, with her feathers all awry, lying by the dyer's vat.

'What has happened?' quoth he.

But the poor bedraggled thing could only gasp out feebly—

  'The old wife was dyed—
  The nasty old cat!
  And I, the gay bride,
  Fell into the vat!'

Whereupon the cock-sparrow took her up tenderly in his bill, and flew away home with his precious burden. Now, just as he was crossing the big river in front of his house, the old hen-sparrow, in her gay dress, looked out of the window, and when she saw her old husband bringing home his young bride in such a sorry plight, she burst out laughing shrilly, and called aloud, 'That is right! that is right! Remember what the song says—

  'Old wives must scramble through water and mud,
  But young wives are carried dry-shod o'er the flood.'

This allusion so enraged her husband that he could not contain himself, but cried out,' Hold your tongue, you shameless old cat!'

Of course, when he opened his mouth to speak, the poor draggled bride fell out, and going plump into the river, was drowned. Whereupon the cock-sparrow was so distracted with grief that he picked off all his feathers until he was as bare as a ploughed field. Then, going to a pîpal tree, he sat all naked and forlorn on the branches, sobbing and sighing.

'What has happened?' cried the pîpal tree, aghast at the sight.

'Don't ask me!' wailed the cock-sparrow; 'it isn't manners to ask questions when a body is in deep mourning.'

But the pîpal would not be satisfied without an answer, so at last poor bereaved cock-sparrow replied—

  'The ugly hen painted.
  By jealousy tainted,
  The pretty hen dyed.
  Lamenting his bride,
  The cock, bald and bare,
  Sobs loud in despair!'

On hearing this sad tale, the pîpal became overwhelmed with grief, and declaring it must mourn also, shed all its leaves on the spot.

By and by a buffalo, coming in the heat of the day to rest in the shade of the pîpal tree, was astonished to find nothing but bare twigs.

'What has happened?' cried the buffalo; 'you were as green as possible yesterday!'

'Don't ask me!' whimpered the pîpal. 'Where are your manners? Don't you know it isn't decent to ask questions when people are in mourning?'

But the buffalo insisted on having an answer, so at last, with many sobs and sighs, the pîpal replied—

  'The ugly hen painted.
  By jealousy tainted,
  The pretty hen dyed.
  Bewailing his bride,
  The cock, bald and bare,
  Sobs loud in despair;
  The pîpal tree grieves
  By shedding its leaves!'

'Oh dear me!' cried the buffalo, 'how very sad! I really must mourn too!' So she immediately cast her horns, and began to weep and wail. After a while, becoming thirsty, she went to drink at the river-side.

'Goodness gracious!' cried the river, 'what is the matter? and what have you done with your horns?'

'How rude you are!' wept the buffalo. 'Can't you see I am in deep mourning? and it isn't polite to ask questions.'

But the river persisted, until the buffalo, with many groans, replied—

  'The ugly hen painted.
  By jealousy tainted,
  The pretty hen dyed.
  Lamenting his bride,
  The cock, bald and bare,
  Sobs loud in despair;
  The pîpal tree grieves
  By shedding its leaves;
  The buffalo mourns
  By casting her horns!'

'Dreadful!' cried the river, and wept so fast that its water became quite salt.

By and by a cuckoo, coming to bathe in the stream, called out, 'Why, river! what has happened? You are as salt as tears!'

'Don't ask me!' mourned the stream; 'it is too dreadful for words!'

Nevertheless, when the cuckoo would take no denial, the river replied—

  'The ugly hen painted.
  By jealousy tainted,
  The pretty hen dyed.
  Lamenting his bride,
  The cock, bald and bare,
  Sobs loud in despair;
  The pîpal tree grieves
  By shedding its leaves;
  The buffalo mourns
  By casting her horns;
  The stream, weeping fast,
  Grows briny at last!'

'Oh dear! oh dear me!' cried the cuckoo, 'how very very sad! I must mourn too!' So it plucked out an eye, and going to a corn-merchant's shop, sat on the doorstep and wept.

'Why, little cuckoo! what's the matter?' cried Bhagtu the shopkeeper. 'You are generally the pertest of birds, and to-day you are as dull as ditchwater!'

'Don't ask me!' snivelled the cuckoo; 'it is such terrible grief! such dreadful sorrow! such—such horrible pain!'

However, when Bhagtu persisted, the cuckoo, wiping its one eye on its wing, replied—

  'The ugly hen painted.
  By jealousy tainted,
  The pretty hen dyed.
  Lamenting his bride,
  The cock, bald and bare,
  Sobs loud in despair;
  The pîpal tree grieves
  By shedding its leaves;
  The buffalo mourns
  By casting her horns;
  The stream, weeping fast,
  Grows briny at last;
  The cuckoo with sighs
  Blinds one of its eyes!'

'Bless my heart!' cried Bhagtu,'but that is simply the most heartrending tale I ever heard in my life! I must really mourn likewise!' Whereupon he wept, and wailed, and beat his breast, until he went completely out of his mind; and when the Queen's maidservant came to buy of him, he gave her pepper instead of turmeric, onion instead of garlic, and wheat instead of pulse.

'Dear me, friend Bhagtu!' quoth the maid-* servant, 'your wits are wool-gathering! What's the matter?'

'Don't! please don't!' cried Bhagtu; 'I wish you wouldn't ask me, for I am trying to forget all about it. It is too dreadful—too too terrible!'

At last, however, yielding to the maid's entreaties, he replied, with many sobs and tears—

  'The ugly hen painted.
  By jealousy tainted,
  The pretty hen dyed.
  Lamenting his bride,
  The cock, bald and bare,
  Sobs loud in despair;
  The pîpal tree grieves
  By shedding its leaves;
  The buffalo mourns
  By casting her horns;
  The stream, weeping fast,
  Grows briny at last;
  The cuckoo with sighs
  Blinds one of its eyes;
  Bhagtu's grief so intense is,
  He loses his senses!'

'How very sad!' exclaimed the maidservant. 'I don't wonder at your distress; but it is always so in this miserable world!—everything goes wrong!'

Whereupon she fell to railing at everybody and everything in the world, until the Queen said to her, 'What is the matter, my child? What distresses you?'

'Oh!' replied the maidservant, 'the old story! every one is miserable, and I most of all! Such dreadful news!—

  'The ugly hen painted.
  By jealousy tainted,
  The pretty hen dyed.
  Lamenting his bride,
  The cock, bald and bare,
  Sobs loud in despair;
  The pîpal tree grieves
  By shedding its leaves;
  The buffalo mourns
  By casting her horns;
  The stream, weeping fast,
  Grows briny at last;
  The cuckoo with sighs
  Blinds one of its eyes;
  Bhagtu's grief so intense is,
  He loses his senses;
  The maidservant wailing
  Has taken to railing!'

'Too true!' wept the Queen, 'too true! The world is a vale of tears! There is nothing for it but to try and forget!' Whereupon she set to work dancing away as hard as she could.

By and by in came the Prince, who, seeing her twirling about, said,
'Why, mother! what is the matter?'

The Queen, without stopping, gasped out—

  'The ugly hen painted.
  By jealousy tainted,
  The pretty hen dyed.
  Lamenting his bride,
  The cock, bald and bare,
  Sobs loud in despair;
  The pîpal tree grieves
  By shedding its leaves;
  The buffalo mourns
  By casting her horns;
  The stream, weeping fast,
  Grows briny at last;
  The cuckoo with sighs
  Blinds one of its eyes;
  Bhagtu's grief so intense is,
  He loses his senses;
  The maidservant wailing
  Has taken to railing;
  The Queen, joy enhancing,
  Takes refuge in dancing!'

'If that is your mourning, I'll mourn too!' cried the Prince, and seizing his tambourine, he began to thump on it with a will. Hearing the noise, the King came in, and asked what was the matter.

'This is the matter!' cried the Prince, drumming away with all his might—

  'The ugly hen painted.
  By jealousy tainted,
  The pretty hen dyed.
  Lamenting his bride,
  The cock, bald and bare,
  Sobs loud in despair;
  The pîpal tree grieves
  By shedding its leaves;
  The buffalo mourns
  By casting her horns;
  The stream, weeping fast,
  Grows briny at last;
  The cuckoo with sighs
  Blinds one of its eyes;
  Bhagtu's grief so intense is,
  He loses his senses;
  The maidservant wailing
  Has taken to railing;
  The Queen, joy enhancing,
  Takes refuge in dancing;
  To aid the mirth coming,
  The Prince begins drumming!'

'Capital! capital!' cried the King, 'that's the way to do it!' so, seizing his zither, he began to thrum away like one possessed.

And as they danced, the Queen, the King, the Prince, and the maidservant sang—

  'The ugly hen painted.
  By jealousy tainted,
  The pretty hen dyed.
  Bewailing his bride,
  The cock, bald and bare,
  Sobs loud in despair;
  The pîpal tree grieves
  By shedding its leaves;
  The buffalo mourns
  By casting her horns;
  The stream, weeping fast,
  Grows briny at last;
  The cuckoo with sighs
  Blinds one of its eyes;
  Bhagtu's grief so intense is,
  He loses his senses;
  The maidservant wailing
  Has taken to railing;
  The Queen, joy enhancing,
  Takes refuge in dancing;
  To aid the mirth coming,
  The Prince begins drumming;
  To join in it with her
  The King strums the zither!'

So they danced and sang till they were tired, and that was how every one mourned poor cock-sparrow's pretty bride.

NOTES

Verses.—In the original these are—

  Saukan rangan men charhî,
  Main bhî rangan men parî,

  My co-wife got dyed,
  I too fell into the vat.

Verses.—In the original—

  Ik sarî, ik balî;
  Ik hinak mode charhî,

  One is vexed and one grieved;
  And one is carried laughing on the shoulder.

The allusion here is to a common tale. The story goes that a man who had two wives wanted to cross a river. Both wives wanted to go across first with him, so in the end, leaving the elder to walk, he took the younger on his shoulder, who mocked the elder with the words—

  Ik sarî, dûî balî;
  Dûî jâî mûnde charhî.

  First she was vexed, next she grieved;
  While the other went across on the shoulder.

Hence the sting of the old sparrow's taunt.

Verses.—In the original—

  Ik chamkhat hûî;
  Chirî rangan charhî;
  Chirâ bedan karî;
  Pîpal patte jharî;
  Mahîn sing jharî;
  Naîn bahí khârî;
  Koïl hûî kânî;
  Bhagtû diwanî;
  Bandî padnî;
  Rânî nâchnî;
  Putr dholkî bajânî;
  Râjâ sargî bajânî;

  One hen painted,
  And the other was dyed,
  And the cock loved her,
  So the pîpal shed its leaves,
  And the buffalo her horns,
  So the river became salt,
  And the cuckoo lost an eye,
  So Bhagtû went mad,
  And the maid took to swearing,
  So the Queen took to dancing,
  And the Prince took to drumming,

  And the King took to thrumming.