Читать книгу Simla Village Tales; Or, Folk Tales from the Himalayas - Alice Dracott - Страница 11

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There was once a Brahmin who had five daughters, and after their mother died, he married another woman who was very unkind to them, and treated them cruelly, and starved them. So stingy was she that, upon one occasion, she took a grain of linseed, divided it into five pieces, and gave a piece to each child.

“Are you satisfied, sister?” they asked one another, and each replied: “I am satisfied,” except the youngest, who said: “I am hungry still.” Then the eldest, who had still a morsel of the linseed in her mouth, took it and gave it to her little sister.

Soon after their stepmother said to her husband: “These children must be sent away, or else I will go.”

He did his best to dissuade her, but she insisted; so, taking the five girls, he went with them to the river, where he suggested they should all cross over to the other side. “Father, you go first, and we will follow you.”

“No, my children, you go first, and I will follow; but, if you should see this umbrella which I carry floating upon the water, you will know that I am drowned and cannot come.”

So the children crossed over, and waited for him; but soon, to their grief, they saw the umbrella floating down the stream, and then they knew that their father had been drowned.

After this they wandered about for many days, and passed through many cities. At last they came to a house in the woods, where a woman was sitting. She seemed very pleased to meet them, and invited them indoors; they went in, little knowing that she was a witch, and meant evil. Next day she told them to go and fetch wood, but kept back the eldest to sweep the house, and to keep her company.

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The Old Witch who lived in a Forest

“O Tree, shelter me!”

In the evening when the other sisters returned, they found their eldest sister was missing; and the witch, who did not wish them to know that she had eaten the child, told them that she had run back to her parents. The next day she did the same thing, and detained the second sister, and so on until only the youngest was left.

At last the old witch told her to stay at home that day to sweep the house, and look after it while she went out. The child swept the room, and then, out of curiosity, opened a box which stood in the corner, and, to her horror, she saw inside it the four heads of her sisters! They were all smiling, and she said: “Why do you smile, O my sisters?”

“Because you will also come here to-day,” they replied. The poor child was much alarmed, and asked what she could do to escape.

“Take all the things in this room, and tie them in a bundle, and as you run, throw them on the road. When the old witch comes to look for you, she will see the things, and, while she is picking them up, you will have time to escape.” The child quickly did as the heads told her, tied the bundle, and ran away.

There was only a broom left in the room, and when the old witch returned she mounted upon it, and flew through the air in hot pursuit. As she went along she found her things strewn on the road, and began picking them up one after another. This gave the child time to run further and further away, until, at last, she came to a peepul tree, and said: “O tree, shelter me!” and the tree opened, and she was hidden within it, all but her little finger, which remained outside, as the tree closed. This the old witch saw and promptly bit off: while she ate it, she regretted more than once that such a dainty morsel had escaped, but she knew there was no getting out the child; so she went away disappointed.

Now, soon after, a man came to cut down the tree, but the child cried from inside: “Cut above, and cut below, but do not touch the middle, or you will cut me in half.”

The voice so amazed the man that he went and told the Rajah about it; and forthwith the Rajah came with all his retinue, and heard the same thing; so they did as the voice advised, and, after carefully opening the tree, found the child, a beautiful young girl, who sat with her hands folded within.

“Girl,” said the Rajah, “will you walk up to anybody here present to whose caste you belong?”

The girl came out and walked up to a Brahmin: this decided the question of her birth, and that she was fitted to become the wife of a Prince. So the Rajah had her taken to his Palace, where they were afterwards married with great pomp, and lived happily ever after.

Note.—It may interest my readers to know that the little native girl standing beside the peepul tree in my sketch is still living. She came to us during one of the great Indian famines, and we almost despaired of her life, for although seven years old at that time, she was a living skeleton, her calf measurement being exactly three-and-a-half inches, or half of my wrist! She is now a fine healthy child, and very devoted.—A.E.D.