And her lovely face is still to be seen painted on ivory and vellum among the treasures of the ancient city of Delhi.
The Boy who was Always Thirteen
There were once a man and woman so truly good that the great god said he would reward them with whatever they wished to ask. “We want a son,” said the man and his wife.
“You shall have a son,” said Shiva, the great god. “But you must now choose the kind of son you want. Will you have him perfect in every way, beautiful and good and clever, and loved by all the world, but doomed to be no older than his thirteenth year? Or will you have him just an ordinary boy, but living as long as the ordinary man, so that you may even see his children’s children? Choose: that which you wish shall be given.”
And the man and his wife were sorrowful; for to choose was not easy. How could they bear their son to die when he was thirteen. Yet how could they bear to have him just an ordinary boy, like any other that came into the world, and had trouble, and made mistakes, and died at last, leaving no name behind him? And the puzzle was too hard for the man.
“I cannot choose,” he said to his wife. “You must decide. It is your business.”
And the woman said: “We will have the perfect son that Shiva has offered us. And the rest we will leave to the gods.”
So Kamil, the perfect one, was born, and grew from happy baby to happy boy. And he was beautiful to look upon; and clever was he, and strong, and gentle, and kind. Everyone loved him, and to all gave he love also, making happiness wherever he went.