Bab Bab 4 · Punchkin

. Punchkin

[Illustration:]

Once upon a time there was a Raja who had seven beautiful daughters.

They were all good girls; but the youngest, named Balna, was more

clever than the rest. The Raja's wife died when they were quite little

children, so these seven poor Princesses were left with no mother to

take care of them.

The Raja's daughters took it by turns to cook their father's dinner

every day, whilst he was absent deliberating with his Ministers on the

affairs of the nation.

About this time the Prudhan died, leaving a widow and one daughter;

and every day, every day, when the seven Princesses were preparing

their father's dinner, the Prudhan's widow and daughter would come and

beg for a little fire from the hearth. Then Balna used to say to her

sisters, "Send that woman away; send her away. Let her get the fire at

her own house. What does she want with ours? If we allow her to come

here, we shall suffer for it some day."

But the other sisters would answer, "Be quiet, Balna; why must you

always be quarrelling with this poor woman? Let her take some fire if

she likes." Then the Prudhan's widow used to go to the hearth and take

a few sticks from it; and whilst no one was looking, she would quickly

throw some mud into the midst of the dishes which were being prepared

for the Raja's dinner.

Now the Raja was very fond of his daughters. Ever since their mother's

death they had cooked his dinner with their own hands, in order to

avoid the danger of his being poisoned by his enemies. So, when he

found the mud mixed up with his dinner, he thought it must arise from

their carelessness, as it did not seem likely that any one should have

put mud there on purpose; but being very kind he did not like to

reprove them for it, although this spoiling of the curry was repeated

many successive days.

At last, one day, he determined to hide, and watch his daughters

cooking, and see how it all happened; so he went into the next room,

and watched them through a hole in the wall.

There he saw his seven daughters carefully washing the rice and

preparing the curry, and as each dish was completed, they put it by

the fire ready to be cooked. Next he noticed the Prudhan's widow come

to the door, and beg for a few sticks from the fire to cook her

dinner with. Balna turned to her, angrily, and said, "Why don't you

keep fuel in your own house, and not come here every day and take

ours? Sisters, don't give this woman any more wood; let her buy it for

herself."

Then the eldest sister answered, "Balna, let the poor woman take the

wood and the fire; she does us no harm." But Balna replied, "If you

let her come here so often, maybe she will do us some harm, and make

us sorry for it, some day."

The Raja then saw the Prudhan's widow go to the place where all his

dinner was nicely prepared, and, as she took the wood, she threw a

little mud into each of the dishes.

At this he was very angry, and sent to have the woman seized and

brought before him. But when the widow came, she told him that she had

played this trick because she wanted to gain an audience with him; and

she spoke so cleverly, and pleased him so well with her cunning words,

that instead of punishing her, the Raja married her, and made her his

Ranee, and she and her daughter came to live in the palace.

Now the new Ranee hated the seven poor Princesses, and wanted to get

them, if possible, out of the way, in order that her daughter might

have all their riches, and live in the palace as Princess in their

place; and instead of being grateful to them for their kindness to

her, she did all she could to make them miserable. She gave them

nothing but bread to eat, and very little of that, and very little

water to drink; so these seven poor little Princesses, who had been

accustomed to have everything comfortable about them, and good food

and good clothes all their lives long, were very miserable and

unhappy; and they used to go out every day and sit by their dead

mother's tomb and cry--and say:

"Oh mother, mother, cannot you see your poor children, how unhappy we

are, and how we are starved by our cruel step-mother?"

One day, whilst they were thus sobbing and crying, lo and behold! a

beautiful pomelo tree grew up out of the grave, covered with fresh

ripe pomeloes, and the children satisfied their hunger by eating some

of the fruit, and every day after this, instead of trying to eat the

bad dinner their step-mother provided for them, they used to go out to

their mother's grave and eat the pomeloes which grew there on the

beautiful tree.

Then the Ranee said to her daughter, "I cannot tell how it is, every

day those seven girls say they don't want any dinner, and won't eat

any; and yet they never grow thin nor look ill; they look better than

you do. I cannot tell how it is." And she bade her watch the seven

Princesses, and see if any one gave them anything to eat.

So next day, when the Princesses went to their mother's grave, and

were eating the beautiful pomeloes, the Prudhan's daughter followed

them, and saw them gathering the fruit.

Then Balna said to her sisters, "Do you not see that girl watching us?

Let us drive her away, or hide the pomeloes, else she will go and tell

her mother all about it, and that will be very bad for us."

But the other sisters said, "Oh no, do not be unkind, Balna. The girl

would never be so cruel as to tell her mother. Let us rather invite

her to come and have some of the fruit." And calling her to them,

they gave her one of the pomeloes.

No sooner had she eaten it, however, than the Prudhan's daughter went

home and said to her mother, "I do not wonder the seven Princesses

will not eat the dinner you prepare for them, for by their mother's

grave there grows a beautiful pomelo tree, and they go there every day

and eat the pomeloes. I ate one, and it was the nicest I have ever

tasted."

The cruel Ranee was much vexed at hearing this, and all next day she

stayed in her room, and told the Raja that she had a very bad

headache. The Raja was deeply grieved, and said to his wife, "What can

I do for you?" She answered, "There is only one thing that will make

my headache well. By your dead wife's tomb there grows a fine pomelo

tree; you must bring that here, and boil it, root and branch, and put

a little of the water in which it has been boiled, on my forehead, and

that will cure my headache." So the Raja sent his servants, and had

the beautiful pomelo tree pulled up by the roots, and did as the Ranee

desired; and when some of the water, in which it had been boiled, was

put on her forehead, she said her headache was gone and she felt quite

well.

Next day, when the seven Princesses went as usual to the grave of

their mother, the pomelo tree had disappeared. Then they all began to

cry very bitterly.

Now there was by the Ranee's tomb a small tank, and as they were

crying they saw that the tank was filled with a rich cream-like

substance, which quickly hardened into a thick white cake. At seeing

this all the Princesses were very glad, and they ate some of the cake,

and liked it; and next day the same thing happened, and so it went on

for many days. Every morning the Princesses went to their mother's

grave, and found the little tank filled with the nourishing cream-like

cake. Then the cruel step-mother said to her daughter: "I cannot tell

how it is, I have had the pomelo tree which used to grow by the

Ranee's grave destroyed, and yet the Princesses grow no thinner, nor

look more sad, though they never eat the dinner I give them. I cannot

tell how it is!"

And her daughter said, "I will watch."

Next day, while the Princesses were eating the cream cake, who should

come by but their step-mother's daughter. Balna saw her first, and

said, "See, sisters, there comes that girl again. Let us sit round the

edge of the tank and not allow her to see it, for if we give her some

of our cake, she will go and tell her mother; and that will be very

unfortunate for us."

The other sisters, however, thought Balna unnecessarily suspicious,

and instead of following her advice, they gave the Prudhan's daughter

some of the cake, and she went home and told her mother all about it.

The Ranee, on hearing how well the Princesses fared, was exceedingly

angry, and sent her servants to pull down the dead Ranee's tomb, and

fill the little tank with the ruins. And not content with this, she

next day pretended to be very, very ill--in fact, at the point of

death--and when the Raja was much grieved, and asked her whether it

was in his power to procure her any remedy, she said to him: "Only one

thing can save my life, but I know you will not do it." He replied,

"Yes, whatever it is, I will do it." She then said, "To save my life,

you must kill the seven daughters of your first wife, and put some of

their blood on my forehead and on the palms of my hands, and their

death will be my life." At these words the Raja was very sorrowful;

but because he feared to break his word, he went out with a heavy

heart to find his daughters.

He found them crying by the ruins of their mother's grave.

Then, feeling he could not kill them, the Raja spoke kindly to them,

and told them to come out into the jungle with him; and there he made

a fire and cooked some rice, and gave it to them. But in the

afternoon, it being very hot, the seven Princesses all fell asleep,

and when he saw they were fast asleep, the Raja, their father, stole

away and left them (for he feared his wife), saying to himself: "It is

better my poor daughters should die here, than be killed by their

step-mother."

He then shot a deer, and returning home, put some of its blood on the

forehead and hands of the Ranee, and she thought then that he had

really killed the Princesses, and said she felt quite well.

Meantime the seven Princesses awoke, and when they found themselves

all alone in the thick jungle they were much frightened, and began to

call out as loud as they could, in hopes of making their father hear;

but he was by that time far away, and would not have been able to hear

them even had their voices been as loud as thunder.

It so happened that this very day the seven young sons of a

neighbouring Raja chanced to be hunting in that same jungle, and as

they were returning home, after the day's sport was over, the youngest

Prince said to his brothers: "Stop, I think I hear some one crying and

calling out. Do you not hear voices? Let us go in the direction of

the sound, and find out what it is."

So the seven Princes rode through the wood until they came to the

place where the seven Princesses sat crying and wringing their hands.

At the sight of them the young Princes were very much astonished, and

still more so on learning their story; and they settled that each

should take one of these poor forlorn ladies home with him, and marry

her.

So the first and eldest Prince took the eldest Princess home with him,

and married her.

And the second took the second;

And the third took the third;

And the fourth took the fourth;

And the fifth took the fifth;

And the sixth took the sixth;

And the seventh, and the handsomest of all, took the beautiful Balna.

And when they got to their own land, there was great rejoicing

throughout the kingdom, at the marriage of the seven young Princes to

seven such beautiful Princesses.

About a year after this Balna had a little son, and his uncles and

aunts were so fond of the boy that it was as if he had seven fathers

and seven mothers. None of the other Princes and Princesses had any

children, so the son of the seventh Prince and Balna was acknowledged

their heir by all the rest.

They had thus lived very happily for some time, when one fine day the

seventh Prince (Balna's husband) said he would go out hunting, and

away he went; and they waited long for him, but he never came back.

Then his six brothers said they would go and see what had become of

him; and they went away, but they also did not return.

And the seven Princesses grieved very much, for they feared that their

kind husbands must have been killed.

One day, not long after this had happened, as Balna was rocking her

baby's cradle, and whilst her sisters were working in the room below,

there came to the palace door a man in a long black dress, who said

that he was a Fakir, and came to beg. The servants said to him, "You

cannot go into the palace--the Raja's sons have all gone away; we

think they must be dead, and their widows cannot be interrupted by

your begging." But he said, "I am a holy man, you must let me in."

Then the stupid servants let him walk through the palace, but they did

not know that this was no Fakir, but a wicked Magician named Punchkin.

Punchkin Fakir wandered through the palace, and saw many beautiful

things there, till at last he reached the room where Balna sat singing

beside her little boy's cradle. The Magician thought her more

beautiful than all the other beautiful things he had seen, insomuch

that he asked her to go home with him and to marry him. But she said,

"My husband, I fear, is dead, but my little boy is still quite young;

I will stay here and teach him to grow up a clever man, and when he is

grown up he shall go out into the world, and try and learn tidings of

his father. Heaven forbid that I should ever leave him, or marry you."

At these words the Magician was very angry, and turned her into a

little black dog, and led her away; saying, "Since you will not come

with me of your own free will, I will make you." So the poor Princess

was dragged away, without any power of effecting an escape, or of

letting her sisters know what had become of her. As Punchkin passed

through the palace gate the servants said to him, "Where did you get

that pretty little dog?" And he answered, "One of the Princesses gave

it to me as a present." At hearing which they let him go without

further questioning.

Soon after this, the six elder Princesses heard the little baby, their

nephew, begin to cry, and when they went upstairs they were much

surprised to find him all alone, and Balna nowhere to be seen. Then

they questioned the servants, and when they heard of the Fakir and the

little black dog, they guessed what had happened, and sent in every

direction seeking them, but neither the Fakir nor the dog were to be

found. What could six poor women do? They gave up all hopes of ever

seeing their kind husbands, and their sister, and her husband, again,

and devoted themselves thenceforward to teaching and taking care of

their little nephew.

Thus time went on, till Balna's son was fourteen years old. Then, one

day, his aunts told him the history of the family; and no sooner did

he hear it, than he was seized with a great desire to go in search of

his father and mother and uncles, and if he could find them alive to

bring them home again. His aunts, on learning his determination, were

much alarmed and tried to dissuade him, saying, "We have lost our

husbands, and our sister and her husband, and you are now our sole

hope; if you go away, what shall we do?" But he replied, "I pray you

not to be discouraged; I will return soon, and if it is possible bring

my father and mother and uncles with me." So he set out on his

travels; but for some months he could learn nothing to help him in

his search.

At last, after he had journeyed many hundreds of weary miles, and

become almost hopeless of ever hearing anything further of his

parents, he one day came to a country that seemed full of stones, and

rocks, and trees, and there he saw a large palace with a high tower;

hard by which was a Malee's little house.

As he was looking about, the Malee's wife saw him, and ran out of the

house and said, "My dear boy, who are you that dare venture to this

dangerous place?" He answered, "I am a Raja's son, and I come in

search of my father, and my uncles, and my mother whom a wicked

enchanter bewitched."

Then the Malee's wife said, "This country and this palace belong to a

great enchanter; he is all powerful, and if any one displeases him, he

can turn them into stones and trees. All the rocks and trees you see

here were living people once, and the Magician turned them to what

they now are. Some time ago a Raja's son came here, and shortly

afterwards came his six brothers, and they were all turned into stones

and trees; and these are not the only unfortunate ones, for up in that

tower lives a beautiful Princess, whom the Magician has kept prisoner

there for twelve years, because she hates him and will not marry him."

Then the little Prince thought, "These must be my parents and my

uncles. I have found what I seek at last." So he told his story to the

Malee's wife, and begged her to help him to remain in that place

awhile and inquire further concerning the unhappy people she

mentioned; and she promised to befriend him, and advised his

disguising himself lest the Magician should see him, and turn him

likewise into stone. To this the Prince agreed. So the Malee's wife

dressed him up in a saree, and pretended that he was her daughter.

One day, not long after this, as the Magician was walking in his

garden he saw the little girl (as he thought) playing about, and asked

her who she was. She told him she was the Malee's daughter, and the

Magician said, "You are a pretty little girl, and to-morrow you shall

take a present of flowers from me to the beautiful lady who lives in

the tower."

The young Prince was much delighted at hearing this, and went

immediately to inform the Malee's wife; after consultation with whom

he determined that it would be more safe for him to retain his

disguise, and trust to the chance of a favourable opportunity for

establishing some communication with his mother, if it were indeed

she.

Now it happened that at Balna's marriage her husband had given her a

small gold ring on which her name was engraved, and she had put it on

her little son's finger when he was a baby, and afterwards when he was

older his aunts had had it enlarged for him, so that he was still able

to wear it. The Malee's wife advised him to fasten the well-known

treasure to one of the bouquets he presented to his mother, and trust

to her recognising it. This was not to be done without difficulty, as

such a strict watch was kept over the poor Princess (for fear of her

ever establishing communication with her friends), that though the

supposed Malee's daughter was permitted to take her flowers every day,

the Magician or one of his slaves was always in the room at the time.

At last one day, however, opportunity favoured him, and when no one

was looking, the boy tied the ring to a nosegay, and threw it at

Balna's feet. It fell with a clang on the floor, and Balna, looking to

see what made the strange sound, found the little ring tied to the

flowers. On recognising it, she at once believed the story her son

told her of his long search, and begged him to advise her as to what

she had better do; at the same time entreating him on no account to

endanger his life by trying to rescue her. She told him that for

twelve long years the Magician had kept her shut up in the tower

because she refused to marry him, and she was so closely guarded that

she saw no hope of release.

Now Balna's son was a bright, clever boy, so he said, "Do not fear,

dear mother; the first thing to do is to discover how far the

Magician's power extends, in order that we may be able to liberate my

father and uncles, whom he has imprisoned in the form of rocks and

trees. You have spoken to him angrily for twelve long years; now

rather speak kindly. Tell him you have given up all hopes of again

seeing the husband you have so long mourned, and say you are willing

to marry him. Then endeavour to find out what his power consists in,

and whether he is immortal, or can be put to death."

Balna determined to take her son's advice; and the next day sent for

Punchkin, and spoke to him as had been suggested.

The Magician, greatly delighted, begged her to allow the wedding to

take place as soon as possible.

But she told him that before she married him he must allow her a

little more time, in which she might make his acquaintance, and that,

after being enemies so long, their friendship could but strengthen by

degrees. "And do tell me," she said, "are you quite immortal? Can

death never touch you? And are you too great an enchanter ever to feel

human suffering?"

"Why do you ask?" said he.

"Because," she replied, "if I am to be your wife, I would fain know

all about you, in order, if any calamity threatens you, to overcome,

or if possible to avert it."

"It is true," he added, "that I am not as others. Far, far away,

hundreds of thousands of miles from this, there lies a desolate

country covered with thick jungle. In the midst of the jungle grows a

circle of palm trees, and in the centre of the circle stand six

chattees full of water, piled one above another: below the sixth

chattee is a small cage which contains a little green parrot; on the

life of the parrot depends my life; and if the parrot is killed I must

die. It is, however," he added, "impossible that the parrot should

sustain any injury, both on account of the inaccessibility of the

country, and because, by my appointment, many thousand genii surround

the palm trees, and kill all who approach the place."

Balna told her son what Punchkin had said; but at the same time

implored him to give up all idea of getting the parrot.

The Prince, however, replied, "Mother, unless I can get hold of that

parrot, you, and my father, and uncles, cannot be liberated: be not

afraid, I will shortly return. Do you, meantime, keep the Magician in

good humour--still putting off your marriage with him on various

pretexts; and before he finds out the cause of delay, I will be here."

So saying, he went away.

Many, many weary miles did he travel, till at last he came to a thick

jungle; and, being very tired, sat down under a tree and fell asleep.

He was awakened by a soft rustling sound, and looking about him, saw a

large serpent which was making its way to an eagle's nest built in the

tree under which he lay, and in the nest were two young eagles. The

Prince seeing the danger of the young birds, drew his sword, and

killed the serpent; at the same moment a rushing sound was heard in

the air, and the two old eagles, who had been out hunting for food for

their young ones, returned. They quickly saw the dead serpent and the

young Prince standing over it; and the old mother eagle said to him,

"Dear boy, for many years all our young ones have been devoured by

that cruel serpent; you have now saved the lives of our children;

whenever you are in need, therefore, send to us and we will help you;

and as for these little eagles, take them, and let them be your

servants."

At this the Prince was very glad, and the two eaglets crossed their

wings, on which he mounted; and they carried him far, far away over

the thick jungles, until he came to the place where grew the circle of

palm trees, in the midst of which stood the six chattees full of

water. It was the middle of the day, and the heat was very great. All

round the trees were the genii fast asleep; nevertheless, there were

such countless thousands of them, that it would have been quite

impossible for any one to walk through their ranks to the place; down

swooped the strong-winged eaglets--down jumped the Prince; in an

instant he had overthrown the six chattees full of water, and seized

the little green parrot, which he rolled up in his cloak; while, as

he mounted again into the air, all the genii below awoke, and finding

their treasure gone, set up a wild and melancholy howl.

Away, away flew the little eagles, till they came to their home in the

great tree; then the Prince said to the old eagles, "Take back your

little ones; they have done me good service; if ever again I stand in

need of help, I will not fail to come to you." He then continued his

journey on foot till he arrived once more at the Magician's palace,

where he sat down at the door and began playing with the parrot.

Punchkin saw him, and came to him quickly, and said, "My boy, where

did you get that parrot? Give it to me, I pray you."

But the Prince answered, "Oh no, I cannot give away my parrot, it is a

great pet of mine; I have had it many years."

Then the Magician said, "If it is an old favourite, I can understand

your not caring to give it away; but come what will you sell it for?"

"Sir," replied the Prince, "I will not sell my parrot."

Then Punchkin got frightened, and said, "Anything, anything; name what

price you will, and it shall be yours." The Prince answered, "Let the

seven Raja's sons whom you turned into rocks and trees be instantly

liberated."

"It is done as you desire," said the Magician, "only give me my

parrot." And with that, by a stroke of his wand, Balna's husband and

his brothers resumed their natural shapes. "Now, give me my parrot,"

repeated Punchkin.

"Not so fast, my master," rejoined the Prince; "I must first

beg that you will restore to life all whom you have thus imprisoned."

[Illustration: Punchkin's Prisoners are set free.]

The Magician immediately waved his wand again; and, whilst he cried,

in an imploring voice, "Give me my parrot!" the whole garden became

suddenly alive: where rocks, and stones, and trees had been before,

stood Rajas, and Punts, and Sirdars, and mighty men on prancing

horses, and jewelled pages, and troops of armed attendants.

"Give me my parrot!" cried Punchkin. Then the boy took hold of the

parrot, and tore off one of its wings; and as he did so the Magician's

right arm fell off.

Punchkin then stretched out his left arm, crying, "Give me my parrot!"

The Prince pulled off the parrot's second wing, and the Magician's

left arm tumbled off.

"Give me my parrot!" cried he, and fell on his knees. The Prince

pulled off the parrot's right leg, the Magician's right leg fell off:

the Prince pulled off the parrot's left leg, down fell the Magician's

left.

Nothing remained of him save the limbless body and the head; but still

he rolled his eyes, and cried, "Give me my parrot!" "Take your parrot,

then," cried the boy, and with that he wrung the bird's neck, and

threw it at the Magician; and, as he did so, Punchkin's head twisted

round, and, with a fearful groan, he died!

Then they let Balna out of the tower; and she, her son, and the seven

Princes went to their own country, and lived very happily ever

afterwards. And as to the rest of the world, every one went to his own

house.