The Autobiography of an Indian Princess

by Maharani of Cooch Behar Sunity Devee

“No, we hoped you would let him stay,” was the reply.

“Do you want him to come back?”

“Well, he’s about a mile away; how can any one overtake him?”

My father smiled and asked for a khole (a sort of drum), and struck it gently, calling the gentleman by name as he did so. It seems incredible, but is nevertheless true, that the person thus summoned heard the call as he stood under a tree by the roadside. “I hear him,” he cried, “I am to return,” and to the great surprise of all he did return, and related how he had heard his name called.

My father used to tell us stories from the Bible and other sacred books, and I remember how much impressed we were with the story of the Ten Virgins. He described it so well that we could see the whole thing, and I remarked: “We must be careful not to run out of oil or to fall asleep when the bridegroom is coming.” He also told us many other stories, and one was a particular favourite.

There was once a rich Maharajah who was very fond of mottoes and sayings, and always rewarded handsomely any person who brought him a new one.

In a village near his palace lived four Brahmin brothers who were so poor they often could not get their daily meal. One day they said to each other: “Our Maharajah is generous, he richly rewards those who bring him words of wisdom. Let us try and make some.” These Brahmin brothers were not only poor but stupid, and could think of nothing. Although by the next day they were not ready for the visit, they made up their minds to go and see what they could do. On the way the eldest brother suddenly stopped saying: “I have got it, I have got it. I am sure I shall receive a handsome present.” The other three were very much excited and eagerly asked what it was. “I saw a rat,” he said, “and I thought: ‘Silently he picks a hole in the wall.’” The brothers thought this splendid and looked forward to a great reward. A little further on the second brother stopped, saying: “I have got one too.” “What is it?” they asked. “Bump, bump, bump, he jumps.” “How did you think of it?” they asked. “Did you not see a frog jumping from one side of the road to the other?” After a while the third brother shouted: “Mine is the best.” “What is yours?” they asked excitedly. “Hither and thither he looks.” “What does that mean?” they inquired. “Did you not see a squirrel on the branch looking here, there, and everywhere?” When the palace came in sight the youngest brother was in tears; he could think of nothing. “You will all receive your presents,” he said, “I must wait without for you.” But when they arrived at the door and the kobal took their message to the Maharajah the youngest brother’s face beamed and he followed the others into the ruler’s presence.

Each had written his saying upon a piece of paper and it was placed upon a tray. After a while the Maharajah said, “It grows late. Return for your rewards to-morrow, when I shall have read your papers,” and the brothers, bowing, retired. Towards midnight the Maharajah awoke and bethought himself of the papers brought by the four poor brothers, and of his promise to read them. He rose from his bed and went towards the window, that looked out upon the terrace of the palace, with the papers in his hand. Now it chanced that just at that moment the kobal (page-boy) was under the window trying to make a hole through the wall through which to enter and murder the Maharajah. Suddenly he heard the voice of the Maharajah. “Silently he picks a hole in the wall.” Terrified the kobal left the hole and hopped across the terrace. “Bump, bump, bump, he jumps,” the Maharajah continued. The kobal stopped, looking this way and that in his panic. “Hither and thither he looks,” the voice went on. The trembling kobal tiptoed away, but the voice reading the youngest brother’s paper followed him: “The kobal walks on the marble, thud, thud, thud.” Convinced now that the Maharajah could see him and knew everything, the wretched kobal fled. Next morning he went to one of the officers of the palace, and falling at his feet confessed his intended crime and told how the Maharajah had seen all he did. The officer at once went to the Maharajah and told him the whole story. When the four poor brothers arrived soon after at the palace they were amazed to receive as a reward for their sayings, thousands and thousands of rupees, while the youngest was given a house and provision for life, the Maharajah saying he would ever be grateful to him for having saved his life.

Coolootola was the starting point for many of our religious excursions. We always delighted in these journeys, as they meant “seeing things.” One of the missionaries, Kaka Babu, who had charge of the money and arranged all the details of our everyday life, took care of my eldest brother and me. We travelled sometimes by train, and sometimes in a box-like horse carriage, which was rather uncomfortable, yet I have gone from Agra to Jaipur in it.