Old Deccan Days; or, Hindoo Fairy Legends Current in Southern India

by Unknown

Then the Rajah laughed and said, “You stupid fellows, you have been over vigilant for once; see here your fine young Rajahs. Don’t you yet know the looks of these old beggars?” Whereupon the guards went away much ashamed of themselves.

Having learnt discretion from the advice of the Malee’s wife, Rama and Luxman went betimes that morning to call at the Rajah’s palace. The Rajah received them very graciously, but when he heard the object of the journey he shook his head, and said, “My pretty fellows, far be it from me to thwart your intentions, if you are really determined to strive to win my daughter, the Princess Bargaruttee;[52] but as a friend I would counsel you to desist from the attempt. You can find a hundred Princesses elsewhere willing to marry you; why, therefore, come here, where already a thousand Princes as fair as you have lost there lives? Cease to think of my daughter—she is a headstrong girl.” But Rama Rajah still declared himself anxious to try and jump the dangerous river, whereupon the Rajah unwillingly consented to his attempting to do so, and caused it to be solemnly proclaimed around the town that another Prince was going to risk his life, begging all good men and true to pray for his success. Then Rama, having dressed gorgeously, and mounted his father’s stout war-horse, put spurs to it and galloped to the river. Up, up in the air, like a bird, jumped the good war-horse, right across the river and into the very centre courtyard of the Glass Palace of the Princess Bargaruttee; and, as if ashamed of so poor an exploit, this feat he accomplished three times. At this the heart of the Rajah was glad, and he ran and patted the brave horse, and kissed Rama Rajah, and said, “Welcome, my son-in-law.” The wedding took place amid great rejoicings, with feasts, illuminations and much giving of presents, and there Rama Rajah and his wife, the Ranee Bargaruttee, lived happily for some time. At last, one day Rama Rajah said to his father-in-law, “Sire, I have been very happy here, but I have a great desire to see my father and my mother, and my own land again.” To which the Rajah replied, “My son, you are free to go; but I have no son but you, nor daughter but your wife: therefore, as it grieves me to lose sight of you, come back now and then to see me and rejoice my heart. My doors are ever open to you; you will be always welcome.”

Rama Rajah promised to return occasionally; and then, being given many rich gifts by the old Rajah, and supplied with all things needful for the journey, he, with his beautiful wife Bargaruttee, his friend the young Wuzeer, and a great retinue, set out to return home. Before going, Rama Rajah and Luxman richly rewarded the kind Malee’s wife, who had helped them so ably. On the first evening of their march the travelers reached the borders of the Cocoa-nut grove, on the outskirts of the jungle; here they determined to halt and rest for the night. Rama Rajah and the Ranee Bargaruttee went to their tent; but Luxman (whose tender love for them was so great that he usually watched all night through at their door), was sitting under a large tree close by, when two little owls flew over his head, and perching on one of the highest branches, began chattering to each other.[53] The Wuzeer’s son, who was in many ways wiser than most men, could understand their language. To his surprise he heard the little lady owl say to her husband, “I wish you would tell me a story, my dear, it is such a long time since I have heard one.” To which her husband, the other little owl, answered, “A story! what story can I tell you? Do you see these people encamped under our tree? Would you like to hear their story?” She assented; and he began: “See first this poor Wuzeer; he is a good and faithful man, and has done much for this young Rajah, but neither has that been to his advantage heretofore, nor will it be hereafter.” At this Luxman listened more attentively, and taking out his writing tablets determined to note down all he heard. The little owl commenced with the story of the birth of Rama and Luxman, of their friendship, their quarrel, the young Rajah’s dream, and their reconciliation, and then told of their subsequent adventures in search of the Princess Bargaruttee, down to that very day on which they were journeying home. “And what more has Fate in store for this poor Wuzeer?” asked the lady owl. “From this place,” replied her husband, “he will journey on with the young Rajah and Ranee, until they get very near Chandra Rajah’s dominions; there, as the whole cavalcade is about to pass under a large Banyan tree, this Wuzeer Luxman will notice some of the topmost branches swaying about in a dangerous manner; he will hurry the Rajah and Ranee away from it, and the tree (which would otherwise have inevitably killed them,) will fall to the ground with a tremendous crash; but even his having thus saved the Rajah’s life shall not avert his fate.” (All this the Wuzeer noted down.) “And what next?” said the wife, “what next?” “Next,” continued the wise little story-teller, “next, just as the Rajah Rama and the Ranee Bargaruttee and all their suite are passing under the palace door-way, the Wuzeer will notice that the arch is insecure, and by dragging them quickly through, prevent their being crushed in its fall.” “And what will he do after that, dear husband?” she asked. “After that,” he went on, “when the Rajah and Ranee are asleep, and the Wuzeer Luxman keeping guard over them, he will perceive a large cobra slowly crawling down the wall and drawing nearer and nearer to the Ranee. He will kill it with his sword, but a drop of the cobra’s blood shall fall on the Ranee’s white forehead. The Wuzeer will not dare to wipe the blood off her forehead with his hand, but shall instead cover his face with a cloth that he may lick it off with his tongue; but for this the Rajah will be angry with him, and his reproaches will turn this poor Wuzeer into stone.”

“Will he always remain stone?” asked the lady owl. “Not for ever,” answered the husband, “but for eight long years he will remain so.” “And what then?” demanded she. “Then,” answered the other, “when the young Rajah and Ranee have a baby, it shall come to pass that one day the child shall be playing on the floor, and to help itself along shall clasp hold of the stony figure, and at that baby’s touch the Wuzeer will come to life again. But I have told you enough for one night; come, let’s catch mice—tuwhit, tuwhoo, tuwhoo,” and away flew the owls. Luxman had written down all he heard, and it made him heavy-hearted, but he thought, “Perhaps, after all, this may not be true.” So he said nothing about it to any living soul. Next day they continued their journey, and as the owl had prophesied, so events fell out. For, as the whole party were passing under a large Banyan tree, the Wuzeer noticed that it looked unsafe. “The owl spake truly,” he thought to himself, and, seizing the Rajah and Ranee, he hurried them from under it, just as a huge limb of the tree fell prone with a fearful crash.

A little while after, having reached Chandra Rajah’s dominions, they were just going under the great arch of the palace courtyard, when the Wuzeer noticed some of the stones tottering. “The owl was a true prophet,” thought he again, and catching hold of the hands of Rama Rajah and Bargaruttee Ranee, he pulled them rapidly through, just in time to save their lives. “Pardon me,” he said to the Rajah, “that unbidden I dared thus to touch your hand and that of the Ranee, but I saw the danger imminent.” So they reached home, where they were joyfully welcomed by Chandra Rajah, the Ranee, the Wuzeer (Luxman’s father), and all the court.

A few nights afterward, when the Rajah and Ranee were asleep, and the young Wuzeer keeping guard over them as he was wont, he saw a large black cobra stealthily creeping down the wall just above the Ranee’s head. “Alas!” he thought, “then such is my fate, and so it must be; nevertheless, I will do my duty,” and, taking from the folds of his dress the history of his and the young Rajah’s life, from their boyhood down to that very time (as he had written it from the owl’s narrative), he laid it beside the sleeping Rama, and drawing his sword, killed the cobra. A few drops of the serpent’s blood fell on the Ranee’s forehead: the Wuzeer did not dare to touch it with his hand, but, that her sacred brow might not be defiled with the vile cobra’s blood, he reverently covered his face and mouth with a cloth to lick the drops of blood away. At this moment the Rajah started up, and seeing him, said: “O Wuzeer, Wuzeer, is this well done of you? O Luxman, who have been to me as a brother, who have saved me from so many difficulties, why do you treat me thus, to kiss her holy forehead? If indeed you loved her (as who could help it?), could you not have told me when we first saw her in that Glass Palace, and I would have exiled myself that she might be your wife? O my brother, my brother, why did you mock me thus?” The Rajah had buried his face in his hands; he looked up, he turned to the Wuzeer, but from him came neither answer nor reply. He had become a senseless stone. Then Rama for the first time perceived the roll of paper which Luxman had laid beside him, and when he read in it of what Luxman had been to him from boyhood, and of the end, his bitter grief broke through all bounds; and, falling at the feet of the statue, he clasped its stony knees and wept aloud. When daylight dawned, Chandra Rajah and the Ranee found Rama still weeping and hugging the stone, asking its forgiveness with penitent cries and tears. Then they said to him, “What is this you have done?” When he told them, the Rajah his father was very angry, and said: “Was it not enough that you should have once before unjustly desired the death of this good man, but that now by your rash reproaches you should have turned him into stone? Go to; you do but continually what is evil.”

Now eight long years rolled by without the Wuzeer returning to his original form, although every day Rama Rajah and Bargaruttee Ranee would watch beside him, kissing his cold hands, and adjuring him by all endearing names to forgive them and return to them again. When eight years had expired, Rama and Bargaruttee had a child; and from the time it was nine months old and first began to try and crawl about, the father and mother would sit and watch beside it, placing it near the Wuzeer’s statue, in hopes that the baby would some day touch it as the owl had foretold.

But for three months they watched in vain. At last, one day when the child was a year old, and was trying to walk, it chanced to be close to the statue, and tottering on its unsteady feet, stretched out its tiny hands and caught hold of the foot of the statue. The Wuzeer instantly came back to life, and stooping down seized the little baby who had rescued him in his arms, and kissed it. It is impossible to describe the delight of Rama Rajah and his wife at regaining their long-lost friend. The old Rajah and Ranee rejoiced also, with the Wuzeer (Luxman Wuzeer’s father), and his mother.

Then Chandra Rajah said to the Wuzeer: “Here is my boy happy with his wife and child, while your son has neither; go fetch him a wife, and we will have a right merry wedding.”

So the Wuzeer of the Rajah fetched for his son a kind and beautiful wife, and Chandra Rajah and Rama Rajah caused the wedding of Luxman to be grander than that of any great Rajah before or since, even as if he had been a son of the royal house; and they all lived very happy ever after, as all good fathers, and mothers, and husbands, and wives, and children do.