[91] The Lady Good Fortune.
XXII.
CHANDRA’S VENGEANCE.
THERE was once a Sowkar’s[92] wife who had no children; one day she went crying to her husband and saying, “What an unhappy woman I am to have no children! If I had any children to amuse me I should be quite happy.” He answered, “Why should you be miserable on that account; though you have no children, your sister has eight or nine; why not adopt one of hers?” The Sowkar’s wife agreed, and, adopting one of her sister’s little boys, who was only six months old, brought him up as her own son. Some time afterward, when the child was one day returning from school, he and one of his schoolfellows quarreled and began to fight, and the other boy (being much the older and stronger of the two) gave him a great blow on the head and knocked him down, and hurt him very much. The boy ran crying home, and the Sowkar’s wife bathed his head and bandaged it up, but she did not send and punish the boy who hurt him, for she thought, “One can’t keep children shut up always in the house, and they will be fighting together sometimes and hurting themselves.” Then the child grumbled to himself, saying, “This is only my aunt; that is why she did not punish the other boy. If she had been my mother, she would certainly have given him a great knock on his head to punish him for knocking mine, but because she is only my aunt, I suppose she doesn’t care.” The Sowkar’s wife overheard him, and felt very much grieved, saying, “This little child, whom I have watched over from his babyhood, does not love me as if I were his mother. It is of no use; he is not my own, and he will never care for me as such.” So she took him home to his own mother, saying, “Sister, I have brought you back your child.” “How is this?” asked her sister. “You adopted him as yours for all his life. Why do you now bring him back?” The Sowkar’s wife did not tell her sister what she had heard the boy say, but she answered, “Very well; let him be yours and mine: he shall live a while with you, and then come and visit me; we will both take care of him.” And returning to her husband, she told him what she had done, saying “All my pains are useless; you know how kind I have been to my sister’s boy, yet, after all I have done for him, at the end of seven years he does not love me as well as he does his mother, whom he had scarcely seen. Now, therefore, I will never rest until I have seen Mahdeo[93] and asked him to grant that I may have a child of my own.”[94]
“What a foolish woman you are!” answered her husband; “why not be content with your lot? How do you think you will find Mahdeo? Do you know the road to heaven?” “Nay,” she replied, “but I will seek for it until I find it out, and if I never find it, it cannot be helped, but I will return home no more unless my prayer is answered.” So she left the house, and wandered into the jungle, and after she had traveled through it for many, many days, and left her own land very far behind, she came to the borders of another country, even the Madura Tinivelly[95] country, where a great river rolled down toward the sea. On the river-bank sat two women—a Ranee named Coplinghee Ranee and a Nautch woman.
Now, neither the Ranee, the Nautch woman nor the Sowkar’s wife had ever seen each other before they met at the river-side. Then, as she sat down to rest and drink some of the water, the Ranee turned to the Sowkar’s wife and said to her, “Who are you, and where are you going?” She answered, “I am a Sowkar’s wife from a far country, and because I was very unhappy at having no children, I am going to find Mahdeo and ask him to grant that I may have a child of my own.”
Then, in her turn, she said to the Ranee, “And pray who are you, and where are you going?” The Ranee answered, “I am Coplinghee Ranee, queen of all this country, but neither money nor riches can give me joy, for I have no children; I therefore am going to seek Mahdeo and ask him to grant that I may have a child.” Then Coplinghee Ranee asked the Nautch woman the same question, saying, “And who may you be, and where are you going?” The Nautch woman answered, “I am a dancing woman and I also have no children, and am going to seek Mahdeo and pray to him for a child.” At hearing this, the Sowkar’s wife said, “Since we are all journeying on the same errand, why should we not go together?” To this Coplinghee Ranee and the Dancing woman agreed, so they all three continued their journey together through the jungle.
On, on, on they went, every day further and further; they never stayed to rest nor saw another human being. Their feet ached dreadfully and their clothes wore out, and they had nothing to live on but the jungle plants, wild berries and seeds. So weary and worn did they become that they looked like three poor old beggar women. Never had they by night-time sleep nor by day-time rest; and so, hour after hour, month after month, year after year, they traveled on.