The Mikirs

by Edward Stack

3. Story of Harata Kunwar

Harata Kunwar was one of six brothers, the youngest of them. From his very birth he spent his time in shooting deer and wild pig, and never laboured in the fields. His elder brothers, the five, did the field work. Then they, the five brothers, took counsel together with their father, saying, “This Harata Kunwar does no field work, but spends his time in hunting. Let us talk the matter over at night.” So that night they talked it over. The father said to his eldest son, “How will you supply me with rice?” He answered, “As for me, I will become a head man of a village, and sit in assembly night and day; from the rice-beer which people will bring me as the head man’s perquisites, I will supply you with good white rice and beer.” “And you, the second son, how will you supply me with rice?” “As for me, I will become a blacksmith; night and day will I spend in forging knives and dāos; with the money produced by these I will furnish you with beer, betel, pān, good white rice, and all kinds of spirit.” “And you, the third son, how will you supply me with rice?” “As for me, I will labour in the fields, and having filled granaries and barns with produce I will give you good beer and good white rice.” “And you, the fourth, how will you provide for me?” “As for me, I will go as a companion to some one, and what that person gives me of rice and beer I will give you.” “And you, the fifth, how will you provide for me?” “As for me, I will become some one’s slave, and will support you with the rice and beer he gives me.” “And you, Harata Kunwar, in what way will you furnish me with rice?” “As for me, I will marry a daughter of the Sun-god, and having become a great king, I will seat you on a throne, on a fine couch, I will cause slaves, male and female, to bathe your arms and legs, and I will give you beer, rice, and spirits.” So they finished their talk. Next day, in the place where they worked at their field, Harata Kunwar not being with them, those five brothers consulted again together with their father. “This Harata Kunwar says he will take to wife the daughter of the Sun-god and become a king, forsooth! Where will he get his kingship? Let us kill him, and let us talk about it again to-night.” That night, after they had eaten and drunk, they consulted together about the way in which the killing was to be done. “Let us build a field-watcher’s hut[9] for Harata Kunwar, on the border of the jungle let us build it, and make him watch there; then at night let us go and thrust him through with a spear.” Harata Kunwar’s sister-in-law overheard them as they were conspiring together. Next morning, after they had eaten and drunk and gone away to their work in the fields, Harata Kunwar came home from his hunting. His sister-in-law gave him his rice, and after he had eaten and drunk she said, “Let me kill that insect on you, Harata Kunwar.” Then she killed a louse, and as she killed it a tear fell upon Harata Kunwar’s leg. He asked her, “Sister-in-law, are you crying?” And his sister-in-law said, “I am not crying, a raindrop fell upon you.” Again, as she killed a louse, a tear fell the second time. Harata Kunwar asked her again, “You really are crying, sister-in-law; tell me why you are weeping.” So she told him: “My father-in-law and your elder brothers have plotted together to make you watch by night in a jungle hut, and then they will thrust you through there with a spear, they say; that is why I am weeping.” Harata Kunwar said, “You need not be afraid; you have told me: it is well. To-morrow morning you will see what happens. If I am not dead, I will come home to you after they have gone, and I will throw six clods, taken from the worm-castings, on the roof of this house. If you don’t hear the noise of them on the roof, you will know that I am dead.” So in the evening his brothers came home from the field, and his father said, “This night Harata Kunwar must go and watch for us in the jungle hut. Wild pigs are eating up our paddy. There, by the side of the jungle-clearing, we have built for you a watcher’s hut.” So, having eaten and drunk, Harata Kunwar took with him his bow and went. Then having gathered the fruit of the pūroi-sāk,[10] he put the juice of it into the sheath of a plantain-stalk, and having made it like the form of a sleeping man he put some clothes on it and laid it as though sleeping in the hut. He himself hid quietly under the shelter of the rice plants. Then, after their first sleep, his father and brothers awoke one another: “Come! let us go and kill Harata Kunwar.” Then, each one taking with him a spear, they went to Harata Kunwar’s jungle hut. Then the father said, “Go thou, eldest, climb up and thrust him through.” The eldest said, “How should I dare to put my spear through him? he is our brother, our youngest brother, we have one mother and father, and besides, we have sucked both of us at the same breast, the same nipple. Since we are brothers, how should I dare to kill him? I dare not.” “Go, then, you, the second.” The second answered, “Oh! he is not the son of a second wife, own brother he is, our younger brother; how then should I dare to kill him? I dare not.” “Go, then, you, the third.” He answered, “Our thigh is one, our foot is one, our arm is one, our hand is one; we have grown up together, he is our brother. How could I possibly kill him? I cannot.” “Go, then, thou, the fourth.” He said, “We sucked together at one nipple, own brothers are we, no sister has he, how could I venture to kill him? I dare not.” “Go, then, you, the youngest.” “Oh! why do you send me on such an errand? I am the next to him. From childhood it was I who grew up with him together. We ate our rice together from one platter; we drank our beer from the same mug. How should I dare to kill such a one? I dare not!” Then their father became angry. “Then why did you dare to say, ‘We must kill Harata Kunwar’? If you cannot bring yourselves to do it, you will never become men.” So saying, he climbed up the posts of the hut, and thrust his spear through that plantain-sheath, and the juice of the pūroi sāk came dropping out from it. Then he called out, “Harata Kunwar, strong though he be, has got his deserts now at last! Let him marry the Sun-god’s daughter and make himself a king now!” Harata Kunwar overheard all this. “What, what are you saying, my brothers?” he called out. Then, saying “Harata Kunwar has his bow with him!” they ran away in fear, stumbling and falling as they ran. When they got to their own jungle hut, they vomited, and on the night clearing away, with great difficulty in the morning they reached home. Then Harata Kunwar, after they had come, himself came up, and took six clods from the worm-casts and threw them on the roof. So after they had eaten and drunk, his brothers went away to their field. Then Harata Kunwar came in, and his sister-in-law gave him his rice. After eating and drinking, he said, “Sister! I cannot remain here with you; my own brothers, nay, even my own father, aim at my life, and are plotting to kill me. I must therefore go a-wandering. Get ready and give me a store of rice to take with me, bread, and parched grain.” So his sister-in-law prepared food for him, bread and parched rice. And he said to her when he parted: “If I do not come by my death, then when I come here again I will throw six clods from the worm-castings on the roof; then, when you hear them, wash and make ready the stools and benches!” So they wept together, and parted. Then Harata Kunwar, taking his bow with him, went on his way. At last he arrived at his grandmother’s house. “Oh, granny! are you there?” The old woman answered, “Who is there? as for this place, I have neither kin nor helper. Who is come?” Harata Kunwar answered, “It is I, granny.” Then the old woman said, “Why are you come, my dear? I am a poor widow. I have neither house nor field. I live only by begging my food. Why have you come?” Harata Kunwar answered, “I will stay here with you and be your companion.” The old woman said, “You, who are fit to be a king; a great man, how will you be able to live with me here?” Harata Kunwar answered, “Very good, granny; here I will stay.” So he became her companion there. Then his granny the widow said, “Harata Kunwar, spread the paddy out in the sun to dry. I will go and beg paddy in the king’s village. After you have spread out the paddy, if you want to bathe in the river, don’t go up-stream; bathe on the shore close by this house of ours.” So having spread out the paddy, his granny the widow went to the king’s village. Harata Kunwar took charge of the paddy; frequently turning it over, in a very short time he dried it. Then he collected the paddy together and went to bathe in the river. He thought in his own mind, “for what reason did my granny, when she went away, tell me not to go up-stream to bathe? I will go up-stream and see for myself.” So saying, he went up-stream. There he saw shards of broken water-vessels of gold and silver lying. “Oh! that is why granny told me when she went away not to go up-stream. At night I will ask her whose ghāt (watering-place) this is.” So he returned home. Then his granny the widow in the evening also came home again from the king’s village. So at night, after they had eaten and drunk, Harata Kunwar asked her, “Whose ghāt is that up-stream? There are broken pieces of gold and silver water-vessels strewn all about it.” Then the widow said, “I told you when I went away not to go up-stream. You have been disobeying me and have gone up there, I know?” Harata Kunwar answered, “Yes, I did go, granny; now tell me whose ghāt it is.” So his granny the widow told him: “It is the ghāt of the King of the Great Palace. His daughters, six sisters, come to that place to bathe; don’t go there any more.” Then Harata Kunwar considered again by himself: “My granny tells me not to go again, but go I will and see for myself.” So up-stream he went again, and hid himself quietly under the river bank. At midday the six daughters of the King of the Great Palace came to bathe there in the river. Descending beautifully, each one laid aside her clothes and jumped into the water. This did one after the other, and fair it was to see—like the brightness of the moon and sun; there they bathed and frolicked in the water. Then when the day became cool, the eldest sister admonished the rest:[11] “O my dears, it is cooking time! time to serve up the food: time to house for the night our fowls and our pigs. Our mother will scold us, our father will scold us, if we stay any longer. Let us go.” So they ended their bathing and playing in the water. One after another they shook out their clothes in the breeze and put them on, and beautifully flew away; but the youngest of them flew away last of all, lovely like the brightness of the moon or the sun. Until they were lost to sight in the heaven Harata Kunwar continued gazing after them till his neck got a crook in it. So they entered heaven, and he saw them no more. And he returned to his house, thinking to himself, “How fair, how lovely! (I will not rest) until I get one of them to be my wife! To-night I will ask granny about it.” So home he came, and after supper Harata Kunwar asked his granny: “Oh, granny! such beautiful, such lovely ones I never saw; how shall I get one to wife? Tell me a plan.” His granny said, “Oh, Harata Kunwar, these are children of the Sun-god, children of a great king; how should you, who are a man’s son, succeed in getting one to wife?” Harata Kunwar said, “Not so, granny: get one to wife I must and will. Show me a plan!” Since he continued to press her with questions, at last she said to him, “If you must and will get one for your wife, then clear a field on the river bank.” “Very good, granny,” said Harata Kunwar, “to-morrow, this very next day, I will go and clear it.” So he remained watching for the dawn to break, until the sun fully rose. Then, taking with him a dāo, he went. From the moment he reached the place he rested not, but cut and hacked down the jungle there, till in a single day he had finished the clearing. Then, having heaped the fallen trees together, he set fire to them, and the fire devoured them there, till there was not a single piece or stock left that was not burnt. Then he dibbled in maize, small millet, sugar cane, plantains; besides these he planted flowers—marvel of Peru, white lilies, marigolds,[12] many kinds of flowers. Then the daughters of the King of the Great Palace came down to bathe in the river; beautifully they descended, fair as never was seen; like the moon, like the sun in splendour, they came right down there. So, having finished bathing and splashing about in the water, they spied Harata Kunwar’s garden plot. They said, “Oh, whose field is this? It is very pretty indeed!” The eldest answered, “It must be our brother-in-law Harata Kunwar’s field.” So they flew away beautifully again to heaven together. Harata Kunwar there pondered in his mind: “Shall I ever succeed in getting her to wife?” And again he asked his grandmother, “Granny, when shall I succeed in getting one to wife?” His granny answered, “Not in that way, grandson. Build for yourself a jungle hut.” So next morning a jungle hut he went to build. In a single day he finished building one, great and big, and came home again. “The jungle-hut is finished, granny,” he said. “Then cut for yourself a flute,” advised his granny. So he cut several flutes for himself, and bored holes in them. Then the time for maize and millet to ripen came. And his granny advised him: “Go and watch in your jungle hut, and play the flute.” As for his field, in a very short time flowers blossomed there as you never saw! Then the daughters of the King of the Great Palace arrived to bathe in the river; flying down beautifully one after another they laid aside their clothes and jumped into the water, and bathed and frolicked. Then the eldest admonished them: “Come, my dears, let us go.” Thereupon Harata Kunwar began to play on his flute so beautifully that you never heard the like. “Oh! this flute-playing is very pretty to hear! Surely it is the man (called) Harata Kunwar. Come, dears, let us go and ask for a few flowers.” So they went. “Harata Kunwar, we would like to pluck for ourselves a few flowers. May we pluck and take some, sir?” “Yes,” said Harata Kunwar, “you can pluck as many as you like.” Then each one plucked some flowers and went away. Gracefully they flew away with the flowers. Until they disappeared in the sky, Harata Kunwar gazed after them, until his eyes became quite sore with gazing. So they returned into heaven. When he could see them no more, Harata Kunwar also returned home. And his granny the widow asked him, “Did you have any talk to-day with the daughters of the King of the Great Palace?” “Yes, we had some talk; they even asked to be allowed to gather some of my flowers.” Then his granny explained a plan: “To-morrow is a lucky day. Go, you, before the Great King’s daughters come down to bathe, and hide yourself as I tell you, and watch by the river. The elder sisters, all five, have got husbands already. As for the youngest, the King of the Winds is asking for her to marry her to his son; already the gourds and chungas of beer (for the wedding-feast) have arrived. Nevertheless, having singled out her petticoat from among the others, while they are all bathing, bring it here to me. I will weave a petticoat just like it in exchange for it; take that one back there and put it down again in the same place where her real petticoat was; her own petticoat let us hide away. Then she will not be able to fly away. If she asks for her petticoat back again, say ‘One or other of you must marry me.’” “Yes, very good indeed, granny,” said Harata Kunwar. From the time that his granny imparted to him that plan, Harata Kunwar’s mind was so cheerful as you could not imagine. All night long he could not close his eyes, but went on thinking continually. So morning dawned. Then, having breakfasted, he went to his field. “Oh, when will it be midday?” he said, as he went on waiting. Then he hid himself quietly under the sand. Then at midday the daughters of the King of the Great Palace came. Gracefully they flew down there, and one after another removed her garments and plunged into the stream. So when they were all in the water, Harata Kunwar rose stealthily and seized the petticoat and striped cloth of that youngest one, and carried them off straightway to his granny the widow. And his granny wove in place of them another petticoat and striped cloth just like them. In a very short time she had done them, and Harata Kunwar ran back again there, and having put the new petticoat and striped cloth in the same place, himself went into his jungle hut and played the flute. Wonderfully he played it there; never was heard such playing.

So when they had had enough of bathing and sporting in the water, the eldest admonished her sisters:[13] “O my sisters, let us go! it is time to pound the rice, time to clean it after pounding: time to cook, time to serve up: time to heat the beer, time to squeeze it from the rice-grains.” So having put on her clothes she said again, “Come, let us go and ask for a few flowers.” Then, having plucked some flowers, first the eldest flew up, then the younger sisters also flew up to her gracefully, and last of all the youngest also tried to fly, but found she could not. If she flew she fell back again there; if she got up and tried to fly again, she fell back a second time. Then the eldest said, “Oh! what in the world is the matter?” So the elder sisters also came down again there, and went and said to Harata Kunwar, “O Harata Kunwar, without doubt it is you who have changed our youngest sister’s petticoat; therefore, bring it back!” So they called out, and Harata Kunwar answered, “One or other of you must be my wife.” The daughters of the King of the Great Palace said, “How is it possible that any of us should stay here and be your wife? We have each of us got husbands already.” Harata Kunwar said, “Then I cannot give you the petticoat; one of you must positively marry me.” Then the daughters of the King of the Great Palace said to one another, “Sister! do you marry him.” The eldest answered, “How should I marry him? I have a number of children already.” “Then you, the next, you marry him.” “How can I marry him? I also have four children already.” “You, the third, you marry him, then.” “How can I, when I also have three children already?” “Then you, the fourth, you marry him.” “I also have two children already; how should I marry him?” “You, the fifth, you marry him.” “I cannot marry him; don’t you know that I also have one child already?” “Then you, the youngest, you marry him.” The youngest answered, “As for me, the King of the Winds is asking for me to marry me to his son, the gourds and chungas of beer (for the wedding feast) have arrived already. How can I possibly marry him?” Her eldest sisters said, “Well, but you are not married yet. You must marry him, dear. It is getting dark; we must go. There at home our fowls and our pigs will be calling out for us; besides, our mother and father will be looking out for us. And We will come and visit you from time to time.” Then the youngest one said, “What is to be done, sisters? Well, I will marry him; you go. Our mother and father will be angry.” Then the eldest one said: “Harata Kunwar, you would not listen to our instructions, therefore we are leaving our youngest sister here with you; but be careful not to grieve or trouble her. Do not make her cook or serve up; moreover, touch not her hand or her foot.” So, after giving parting instructions to their youngest sister, they flew away gracefully to heaven again together. The pair who were left behind continued gazing after them till they were lost in the heaven and they could see them no more. Then Harata Kunwar said: “It is getting dark, let us two also go home.” So Harata Kunwar was happy and joyful. Night and day he shot deer and wild pig, and his platform and drying stand[14] (for drying flesh on) were never dry (i.e. without flesh exposed on them to dry).

So one year came to an end. “O Granny, I say to myself, ‘I will go home’; what am I to do?” said Harata Kunwar. “Sure, you have your own house, you have your own field; you can go if you like; nevertheless your wife is not yet entirely at one with you here.” “Nay, but,” said Harata Kunwar, “is it not a whole year (since we were married), granny?” “Nevertheless, you have not come to perfect agreement yet.” “Oh, then,” said Harata Kunwar, “I cannot go yet.” So Harata Kunwar stayed there, working in the field and labouring, and getting barns and granaries stored with the produce to such an extent that the widow’s house was filled up with baskets and barrels full of grain. And God gave Harata Kunwar a child, one son only. Then he asked his grandmother again: “Granny! I keep saying to myself, ‘we will go home to my mother and father.’” The widow answered, “Your wife has not yet thoroughly accommodated herself to you, grandson.” “Not so, granny; she has indeed. Has she not already borne me a son?” “Go, then. You would not listen to the warnings I gave you from time to time. Go together. But your wife has not yet made up her mind to stay with you, I assure you.” So Harata Kunwar said to his wife, “My dear! let us two go together to our home.” His wife answered, “Go. Wherever you take me (I will go too).” Then the morning dawned, and they took their breakfast and started. They went a bit of the way. Now, his child and his wife Harata Kunwar bound firmly to his waist with his turban, and so carried them. And so as they went on they saw a jungle-cock[15] scratching the ground in a wonderful way on the mountain side. Harata Kunwar said, “Oh, jungle-cock, what are you doing there? I am in a hurry to get home; leave the road open to me.” The jungle-cock answered, “I will not leave the road open to you. I say to myself, ‘Harata Kunwar to-day will bring along his wife and child,’ and I am watching the way he is coming.” Harata Kunwar rejoined, “What jest is this? Be careful, lest in a little you have to say, ‘when Harata Kunwar brought his wife and child to his home and field, my life was lost.’” The jungle-cock said, “I don’t say so; to-day (we will see whether) you or I will prevail.” Harata Kunwar said, “Is that true?” “True.” “Do you swear it?” “I swear it.” Then Harata Kunwar, setting an arrow to his bow, shot him.

Then as he went on a little further (he came upon) a cock-pheasant[16] blocking the road, and scratching in a wonderful way on the mountain side. And Harata Kunwar said again, “Oh, cock-pheasant, what are you doing there? I am in a hurry to get home; leave the road free to me.” The cock-pheasant answered, “I won’t leave the road free to you. I say to myself, ‘To-day Harata Kunwar will bring along his wife and child,’ and I am watching here the way he is coming.” Harata Kunwar said, “Oh, don’t be silly, lest you have to say in a little while, ‘when Harata Kunwar brought along his wife and child, I lost my life.’” The cock-pheasant said, “I don’t say so.” Harata Kunwar said again, “Are you in earnest?” “In earnest.” “Do you swear it?” “I swear it.” Then Harata Kunwar set his bow and shot him.

Then, as they went on still further, a wild boar, so big as you never saw or imagined, with his tusks overlapping his mouth, was straddling across the road, and rooting up the earth there on the mountain side in an extraordinary way. And Harata Kunwar said, “Oh, wild boar, what are you doing there? leave me the road open, I want to get home quickly.” The wild boar answered, “I will by no means leave you the road; saying to myself, ‘To-day Harata Kunwar will bring along his wife and child,’ I am watching the road he is coming.” Harata Kunwar said, “Oh, don’t joke! is it true or not?” The wild boar answered, “It is true.” Harata Kunwar said, “Be careful, lest in a little while you have to say, ‘when Harata Kunwar brought along his wife and child, my life was lost.’” The wild boar said, “I don’t say so.” “Are you in earnest?” “Yes.” “Do you swear it?” “I swear it.” “Oh, then——” So saying, Harata Kunwar set his bow and shot him.

Then, when he had nearly arrived at his house, he collected six clods from the worm-casts, and threw them on the roof. Then his sister-in-law said, “Harata Kunwar has come home! Wash the stools and the benches!” Then they washed all the stools and seats and planks and benches. And Harata Kunwar, bringing along with him that wild boar, put it down beside the hedge, and entered the house. And as soon as he arrived, his sister-in-law gave him there beer, bread, and parched rice. His wife was so very beautiful that no one could look her in the face, as one cannot look straight at the brightness of the sun. Then his brothers were perplexed, saying, “What in the world has happened to us this night?” And Harata Kunwar said, “A short time ago I shot a little pig on the road. I just put it down there beside the hedge. Go and get it and scorch it (for cooking).” So his five brothers went, but the boar was so very big that they could not even move it; they could do nothing with it at all. So Harata Kunwar went with them. With one hand he easily lifted it and brought it away; and they scorched it and cut it up. So home they brought it and cooked it and served it up, and joyful, noisy, laughing and jesting, they ate and drank.

Then next morning dawned. Hearing that Harata Kunwar had brought his wife home, all the people of the whole country-side kept coming and going to gaze upon her, in such crowds as you never saw. And Harata Kunwar put away carefully in a bamboo chunga his wife’s own petticoat and striped cloth, with her gold ornaments, her necklace, and her gold drum (Ass. mādolī) worn on the breast, and tied them up in the pitch of the roof. So Harata Kunwar went to pay visits to the people of the village, and the ryots of the country-side came to visit him; and then they went on to gaze upon his wife. And all the women—aunts on mother’s and father’s side, sisters-in-law, elder brothers’ wives—each one said, “Oh! is she not lovely, sister!” Thus they wondered at her. Then Harata Kunwar’s wife answered, “Not so lovely yet as I might be. If I were to put on again my own petticoat, my striped cloth, my necklace and my bracelets, then, indeed, there would be something to see!” Then some old woman said, “Oh, then, give them to her.” And Harata Kunwar’s old father said, “Where in the world did that idiot of a boy put them away? Why did he not give her her own petticoat and striped cloth?” Then Harata Kunwar’s wife explained: “They are there in the roof-pitch where he has tied them up.” So his father untied the bundle and gave it to her. Then she put the things on and arrayed herself. Thereupon she became inconceivably beautiful. “Oh!” they cried, “lovely! beautiful indeed! It is not for nothing that she is called child of the Sun-god!” Thereupon Harata Kunwar’s wife rose up to her full height, and flapped her clothes, and gracefully flew away back to her own place. Then Harata Kunwar, happening to see her from where he was on a distant road, kept continually bending his bow. And his wife said, as she left him: “Wait, wait! hereafter we shall meet again.” So Harata Kunwar, weeping bitterly, sick and sorry at heart, came to his house. Immediately he got there, without eating or drinking, he took his child on his back, and straightway set out for the house of his grandmother the widow woman. Thus he went on till he arrived, and at once on arrival began to weep and wail as you could not imagine. Then his grandmother said: “I told you from the first that your wife was not yet reconciled to her lot with you. How will you get to see her now? How will you be able to reach her in heaven?” This only aggravated his weeping; refusing meat and drink, he followed his grandmother wherever she went, continually dogging her steps, and was like to die of grief. At last his grandmother said, “Harata Kunwar, take a little food, and then I will tell you of a plan.” So he took something to eat, bread and parched rice, and then his grandmother told him her scheme. “To-morrow,” she said, “the son of the King of the Winds will come there to marry your wife. Before that, your father-in-law’s elephant will come here to bathe. Do you go and hide yourself there under the sand. When the elephant (after its bath) is just about to go, hold on tight to its tail, and bind your child firmly to your waist with your turban. If the elephant asks you anything, say that you also are going to the place where your wife is. Then to-morrow, in the evening, you will arrive there. Remain concealed on the river bank. Then male and female slaves will come to draw water there in order to bathe your wife. Call out to them, ‘Give me one draught of water for the child.’ Then, if they give you the water, drop into the water-pot a gold ring. Then she (i.e. your wife) will call for you. Go to her, and when you arrive, put down your child on the ground; then the child will go of itself towards its mother.”

The morning dawned, and Harata Kunwar, after eating and drinking, went to the river bank and hid himself quietly under the sand. Then the elephant came down to bathe in the river, and having bathed, was just about to go away, when Harata Kunwar grasped firmly hold of its tail, and with his turban tied his child securely to his waist. Then the elephant flew up with him to heaven, and put him down on the river bank there. And all the people of the King of the Winds had come to the house of the King of the Great Palace in order to celebrate the marriage of the son of the King of the Winds with Harata Kunwar’s wife. And the King’s slaves, male and female, came to draw water in order to bathe Harata Kunwar’s wife. And Harata Kunwar called out to them for water for his child: “Give me just one draught of water for my son, good mothers!” One after another paid no attention to his request, till at last an old woman came up. So Harata Kunwar called out again: “Give me water, one draught only, good madam, for my child.” So the old woman gave him some water. Making as though he would take hold of the water-jar, Harata Kunwar dropped into it a gold ring. Then they brought the water for Harata Kunwar’s wife’s bath. After washing delicately her arms and her legs, they poured the old woman’s water-jar over her head, and the gold ring fell out. Then Harata Kunwar’s wife asked, “Oh! who is the person whose water-jar has just reached me?” Then one after another they said, “It’s not my water-jar.” Then all called out together, “It is the old woman’s jar.” Then she said to the old woman: “Where did you get hold of this ring? Seize that man and bring him here at once. If you cannot bring him, it will be a matter of your life.” So the old woman, weeping and lamenting, came to Harata Kunwar and called out to him, “Be pleased to come with me! What was the reason why your Honour, under pretence of asking me to give you water, had it in your mind to make me lose my life?” So Harata Kunwar, taking the child on his back, went with her. Immediately on arriving he put the boy down on the ground, and the child ran straight into its mother’s lap and began to suck her breast. Then the King of the Great Palace said: “Why! such a thing as this was never seen! They have got a child big between them already!” So the King of the Winds’ folk were ashamed and disgusted, and returned home sad and sorry. So they celebrated the wedding of Harata Kunwar and the daughter of the King of the Great Palace.

So Harata Kunwar remained there one year, two years, and laboured at tilling the fields, so that he got twelve barns, twelve granaries full of grain. Then said Harata Kunwar to his wife: “My dear! we two, like the sparrow or the dove, should have a nest at least, a roosting-place of our own. Therefore let us go away together. Do you ask father-in-law and mother-in-law.” So at night Harata Kunwar’s wife asked her parents: “O father and mother, your son-in-law says, ‘we two, like a sparrow or a dove, should at least have a nest, a roosting-place of our own. Let us go away together,’ and he bade me ask you about it. What are your commands in the matter?” So the King of the Great Palace said: “My daughter! I have once for all given you away to this man like a bundle of greens, and have nothing more to do with you. Go away together, to-morrow if you like, or to-day if you prefer it.” Then he went on to say, “What do you two desire of me? slaves, male or female? ryots, husbandmen? gold? silver?” So she went and told Harata Kunwar: “My dear! my mother and father say, ‘You may go away together to-day or to-morrow as you please: moreover, slaves, male and female, ryots, husbandmen, gold, silver,—mention whatever you desire’—so they say.” And Harata Kunwar said, “I want nothing at all.” And morning dawned. Then Harata Kunwar went and did obeisance to his father and mother-in-law. And his father-in-law said to him, “What do you desire? slaves—handmaids—ryots—husbandmen—gold—silver?” Harata Kunwar said, “I need nothing.” Then Harata Kunwar and his wife, the wedded pair, and their son started for home, and in due course arrived there. A king he became, a great man, and night and day he lived in happiness and greatness, and his kingdom was great and stable.