The Story of Bitaram.
In a certain village there lived seven brothers. The youngest of them planted a certain vegetable, and went every day to examine it to see how it was growing. For a long time there were only the stalk and leaves, but at length a flower appeared, and from it a fruit. This fruit he measured daily to mark its growth. It grew continuously until it became exactly a span long, after which it remained stationary. One day he said to his sisters-in-law, “Do not eat my fruit, for whoever does so will give birth to a child only one span long.” He continued his daily visits to his plant as usual, and was pleased to note that the fruit was evidently ripening. One day, during his absence, one of his sisters-in-law plucked the fruit and ate it. On returning from the field where he had been ploughing, he went to look at and measure his fruit, but it was gone, it had been stolen. Suspecting that some one of his sisters-in-law was the thief, he accused each of them in turn, but they all denied having touched it. When he found that no one would confess to having taken it, he said to them, “Do not tell upon yourselves, the thief will be caught before long.” And so it happened, for one of them gave birth to a baby one span long. The first time he saw his sister-in-law after the child was born he laughed, and said to her, “You denied having stolen my fruit, now you see I have found you out.”
When the time came that the child should receive a name, Bitaram[1] was given to him, because he was only a span in height. Bitaram’s mother used to take food to the brothers to the field when they were ploughing, and when Bitaram was able to walk so far he accompanied her. One day he surprised his mother by saying, “Let me take the food to my father and uncles to-day.” She replied, “What a fancy! You, child, are only a span high, how can you carry it?” But Bitaram insisted saying, “I can carry it well enough, and carry it I will.” His mother being unable to resist his pertinacity said, “Then, child, take it, and be off.” So she placed the basket on his head and he set out. Arrived at the field he went up a furrow, but the ground was so uneven that before he reached his destination, he had lost nearly all the rice, which had been shaken out of the basket. On his coming near, one of his uncles called out, “Is that you Bitaram?” He replied, “Yes, it is I, Bitaram.” Climbing up out of the furrow, he put down the basket saying, “Help yourselves, and I will take the oxen and buffaloes to the water.” So saying, he drove off the cattle to the river. When they had quenched their thirst he gathered them together, and began to drive them back again to where he had left his father and uncles. While following them up the sandy back of the river, he fell into a depression made by the hoof of a buffalo, and was soon covered up by the loose sand sent rolling down by the herd as they ascended.
When the cattle returned without Bitaram, his father and uncles became alarmed for his safety, and immediately went in search of him. They went here and there calling out “Bitaram, where are you?” But failing to find him they concluded that he had been devoured by some wild animal, and returned sorrowfully home. Rain fell during the night, and washed the sand from off Bitaram, so that he was able to get up, and climb out. On his way home he encountered some thieves who were dividing their booty in a lonely part of the forest. Bitaram hearing them disputing called out “Kehe kere” at the pitch of his voice. The thieves hearing the sound, looked round on all sides to see who was near, but the night being dark, and they not directing their eyes near enough to the ground to see Bitaram, they could discern no one. Then they said to each other, “Let us seek safety in flight. A spirit has been sent to watch us.” So they all made off leaving behind them the brass vessels they had stolen. Bitaram gathered these up, and hid them among some prickly bushes, and then went home.
It was now past midnight, and all had retired to rest, and as Bitaram stood shivering with cold at the closed door, he called out, “Open the door and let me in.” His father hearing him said, “Is that you Bitaram?” He replied, “Yes, open the door.” They then enquired where he had been, and he related all that had happened to him after he had driven the cattle to the river. Having warmed himself at the fire, he told his father of his adventure with the thieves in the forest. He said, “I despoiled some thieves, whom I met in the jungle, of the brass vessels they had stolen.” His father replied, “Foolish child, do not tell lies, you yourself are not the height of a brass lota” (drinking-cup). “No father,” said Bitaram, “I am telling the truth, come and I will shew you where they are.” His father and uncles went with him, and he pointed out to them the vessels hidden among the prickly bushes. They picked them all up and brought them home.
Early next morning some sepoys, who were searching for the thieves, happened to pass that way, and seeing the stolen property lying out side of the house, recognized it, and apprehended Bitaram’s father and uncles and dragged them off to prison. After this Bitaram and his mother were obliged to beg their bread from house to house. She often attributed to him the misery which had befallen them, saying, “Had it not been for your pertinacity, your father and uncles would not have been deprived of their liberty.”
One day, as they were following their usual avocation, they entered a certain house, and Bitaram said to his mother, “Ask the people of the house to give me a tumki.[2]” She did not at first comply, but he kept urging her until being irritated she said, “It was through your pertinacity in insisting upon being allowed to carry the food to your father and uncles that they are now bound and in prison, and yet you will not give up the bad habit.” Bitaram said, “No, mother, do ask it for me.” As he would not be silenced she begged it for him, and the people kindly gave it.
At the next house they came to, they saw a cat walking about, and Bitaram said, “Oh mother, ask the people to give me the cat.” As before, she at first refused, but he continued to press her, and she becoming annoyed scolded him saying, “The young gentleman insists on obtaining this and that. It was your pertinacity that caused your father and uncles to be dragged to prison in bonds.” Bitaram replied, “Not so, mother, do ask them to give me the cat.” As the only way to silence him she said to the people of the house, “Give my boy your cat, he will hold it in his arms for a few minutes, and then set it down, but he carried it away with him.” Bitaram then begged his mother to make him a bag, and fill it with flour, saying, “I am going to obtain the release of my father and uncles.” She mockingly replied, “Much you can do.” She made him a bag, however, and filling it with flour said, “Be off.”
Bitaram then strapped the bag of flour on the cat’s back as a saddle, and mounted. Puss, however, refused to go in the direction desired, and it was with great difficulty that he prevailed upon her to take the road. As he rode along he observed a swarm of bees on an ant hill, and dismounting he addressed them as follows, “Come bees, go in, come bees, go in.” The bees swarmed into the tumki, and Bitaram having covered them up with a leaf continued his journey. Before he had gone far he came to a large tank, which belonged to the raja who had imprisoned his father. A number of women had come to the tank for water, and Bitaram taking his stand upon the embankment began to shoot arrows at their waterpots. After he had broken several, the women espied him mounted on his cat with his bow and arrows in his hand, and believing him to be an elf from the forest fled in terror to the city. Going to the raja they said “Oh raja, come and see. Some one is on the tank embankment. We do not know who or what he is, but he is only a span high.” The raja then summoned his soldiers, and commanded them to take their bows and arrows, and go and shoot him whoever he was. The soldiers went within range, but although they shot away all their arrows, they failed to hit him. So returning to the raja they said, “He cannot be shot.” Hearing this the raja became angry, and calling for his bow and arrows, went to the tank and began to shoot at Bitaram, but although he persevered until his right side ached with drawing the bow, he could not hit him.