Fairy Tales from India :The Magic Bed

Fairy Tales from India :The Magic Bed
The Magic Bed - Indian folktales
 Free Online Indian fairy tale

ONE very hot day, a young Prince, or Rajah as they are called in India, had been hunting all the morning in the jungle, and by noon had lost sight of his attendants. So he sat down under a tree to rest and to eat some cakes which his mother had given him.

When he broke the first one he found an ant in it. In the second there were two ants, in the third, three, and so on until in the sixth there were six ants and the Ant-King himself.

"I think these cakes belong to you more than they do to me," said the Prince to the Ant-King. "Take them all, for I am going to sleep."

After a while the Ant-King crawled up to the Prince's ear as he lay there dreaming, and said, "We are much obliged for the cakes and have eaten them up. What can we do for you in return?"

"I have everything I need," replied the Prince in his sleep. "I cannot spend all the money I have, I have more jewels than I can wear, and more servants than I can count, and I am tired of them all."

"You would never be tired of the Princess Lalun," replied the Ant-King. "You should seek her, for she is as lovely as the morning."

When the young Prince awoke, the ants were all gone; and he was very sorry for this, because he remembered what the Ant-King had said about the Princess Lalun.

"The only thing for me to do," he said to himself, "is to find out in what country this princess lives."

So he rode on through the jungle until sundown, and there beside a pool a tiger stood roaring.

"Are you hungry?" asked the Prince. "What is the matter?"

"I am not hungry, but I have a thorn in my foot which hurts me very much," replied the tiger.

Then the Prince jumped off his horse and looked at the tiger's foot. Then he pulled out the thorn and bound some healing leaves over the wound with a piece of cloth which he tore off his turban.

Just as he was ready to mount his horse again, a tigress came crashing through the jungle.

"How nice!" she cried. "Here is a man and we can eat him."

"No, indeed," replied her husband. "He has been very good to me. He has taken a thorn out of my foot and I am grateful to him. If he wants help at any time, we must give it to him."

"We would much better eat him," grumbled the tigress, but her husband growled so in reply that she bounded off into the deep jungle.

Then the Prince asked the tiger if he could tell him the shortest way to Princess Lalun's country, and the tiger told him it was across three ranges of hills and through seven jungles.

"But," said the tiger, "there is a fakir or holy beggar in the next jungle to this, and he has a magic bed which will carry you anywhere you wish to go. Besides this, he has a bag which will give you whatever you ask for, and a stone bowl which will fill itself with water as often as you ask it. If you can get these things you certainly can find the Princess Lalun."

Then the Prince was very much pleased and set out to find the fakir. He found him sitting under a tree on the edge of the jungle, his bed on one side of him and the bag and bowl on the other side.

The fakir sat very still for a long time when he heard what the Prince wanted, and then he asked, "Why do you seek the Princess Lalun?"

"Because I want to marry her," replied the Prince very earnestly.

"Look into my eyes while I hold your hands," said the fakir, and as the Prince did so, he saw that he was one who could be trusted.

Then the fakir agreed to lend him the things and to take care of his horse until the Prince came back.

"Now lie down on the bed and wish yourself in the Princess Lalun's country," said the fakir, and, taking the bag and the stone bowl in his hands, the Prince stretched himself on the bed.

Then the Prince said, "Take me to Princess Lalun's country," and no sooner had he spoken, than off he went, over the seven jungles and over the three ranges of hills, and in less than a minute he was set down within the borders of the kingdom where the Princess Lalun lived.

The name of the Princess's father was Afzal, and he was the king or Rajah of that country. So many princes had sought his daughter in marriage that he was tired of saying "No" to them. Then he tried the plan of giving them impossible tasks to do and so getting rid of them in that way, but still they kept coming, and at last Rajah Afzal concluded to keep foreigners out of his kingdom altogether. So he issued an edict that no one was to give a night's lodging to a stranger.

So when the Prince came to an old woman's cottage and asked if he might spend the night there, she told him that the Rajah would not allow it.

"Cannot I bring my bed into your garden and sleep there?" he asked. "And cannot I have supper with you?"

"I have nothing for supper but rice," said the old woman, shaking her head. But the Prince pleaded so hard to let him come in that she consented, and he put his bag on her table.

Then he spoke to the bag. "Bag, I want something to eat!" and all at once the bag opened and there was a fine supper for two people. So the old woman ate with, the Prince. The food was delicious and was served on gold plates with gold spoons.

When they were done eating, the old woman said she would go to the well for some water.

"You need not do that," said the Prince, and then he tapped the bowl with his finger. "Bowl!" he cried, "I want water!" At once the bowl filled with water and the old woman washed the gold plates and spoons.

"If you will let me stay with you a little while," said the Prince, "you may have the plates and spoons for your own." Then he ordered the bowl to fill with water again and washed his hands in it.

Then the Prince said, "My bowl gives me all the water I want, and my bag gives me everything else I ask for. They belong to a holy fakir, and he might be angry if you turned his things out of the house to-night."

The old woman sat very quiet for a long time and then she said, "The anger of a Rajah is something to be dreaded, but that of a fakir might be far worse."

"Did you count them?" asked the Prince. "There are twelve gold plates and twelve gold spoons." The old woman nodded, and put them away under her bed. "You may stay," she said, "but be careful that the Rajah's soldiers do not catch you."

By this time it was night and the Prince and the old woman sat in darkness, for there was no lamp in the house. "The Rajah does not allow lamps to be used," she said. "His daughter, the Princess Lalun, sits on the roof of her palace at night and shines so that she lights up the whole country."

Just then a beautiful silver radiance filled the room, and when the Prince stepped outside he saw that the Princess was sitting on the roof of her palace. Her saree or dress was of silver gauze, and her dark hair floated almost to her feet.

She wore a band of diamonds and pearls across her head, and the light that came from her was as beautiful as that of the sun and the moon and the stars together.

"The Ant-Rajah was right," said the Prince. "Her beauty turns darkness into light, and night into day. I should never be weary of the Princess Lalun."

At midnight the Princess came down from her roof and went to her room. Then the Prince sat down on his bed with his bag in his hand. "Bed," said he, "take me to the Princess's palace!" So the bed took him where she lay fast asleep. Then he shook the bag. "Bag," he said, "I want a lovely shawl, embroidered in red and blue and gold!" The bag gave it to him and he spread it gently over the Princess. Then the bed carried him back to the old woman's cottage.

The bag gave the Prince and the old woman breakfast and dinner and supper the next day, and when night came the Princess again sat on the roof. This time her saree was of white silk covered with diamond butterflies, and she shone more gloriously than before.

At midnight the Princess went to her room again, and then the Prince told his bed to take him again to the palace. He said to his bag, "Bag, I want a very beautiful ring!" The bag gave him a ring set with rubies, which he slipped on the Princess's hand as she lay asleep, and then when she woke the Prince told her who he was.

When the Princess saw what a noble, handsome young man he was, and heard that he was the son of a great Rajah, and that he was the one who had brought her the magnificent shawl the night before, she fell in love with him and said she would tell her father and mother that she wanted him for her husband. Then the Prince went back to the old woman's cottage.

The Rajah Afzal, Princess Lalun's father, sent for the Prince the next day, and told him he might marry the Princess because she wished it.

"But first," said he, "you must do this for me. Here are eighty pounds of mustard-seed, and you must crush the oil out of them in one day."

"It is impossible," said the Prince as he went away from the palace. "How can I do it?" And when the old woman heard of it she said, "It is quite impossible. Only an army of ants could do it."

Then the Prince thought of the Ant-Rajah, and at the very minute he thought of him, the Ant-Rajah and all his ants crept under the door and into the room.

"If I do not crush all the oil out of this mustard-seed before to-morrow morning, I cannot marry the Princess Lalun," the Prince said, showing the bag to the Ant-Rajah.

"We will attend to it for you," replied the Ant-Rajah. "Go to sleep and leave it to us." When the Prince awoke in the-morning there was not a drop of oil left in the mustard-seed, and with a light heart he took it to the King.

"That is very good, indeed," said Rajah Afzal, "but I have something else for you to do. One day when I was out in the hills I caught two demons, and I have them here shut up in a cage. I want them killed, because they may break out some day and harm my people. You may marry the Princess Lalun if you can kill them."

"How can I fight two demons?" the Prince asked the old woman when he was back in her cottage.

"Only a couple of tigers could do it," replied the old woman; and as soon as the Prince remembered his tigers they came in at the door.

"Take us to the King," said the tiger.

When the Prince asked the Rajah if the tigers might fight the two demons, he said they might do so, for he was very anxious to get rid of the demons. So all the court went to see the fight, and the tigers killed the demons.

But when the Prince said, "Now you will give me your daughter," Rajah Afzal replied, "There is only one thing more. If you can beat my kettledrum you shall marry the Princess Lalun."

"Where is your drum?" asked the Prince.

"Up there in the sky," replied the Rajah.

"I don't know how I can get up into the sky," sighed the Prince. "This is the hardest task of all." So he went back to the cottage and said to the old woman, "My ants crushed his oil, my tigers killed his demons, but who is to get up into the sky and beat his kettle-drum?"

"You are rather stupid," said the old woman. "If your bed carried you across seven jungles and over three ranges of hills, don't you think it can take you up into the sky?"

"It is very singular I never thought of that," cried the Prince, and then he sat down upon his little bed. Up into the sky it flew, where he beat the kettle-drum so loudly with the handle of his hunting-knife that the King heard him.

"The wedding shall take place as soon as you like," said the Rajah when the Prince came down again; and so the Prince sent the bed and the bowl and the bag back to the fakir.

Then invitations to the wedding were sent to all the kings and queens of the neighboring countries; and after they were married the Prince took the Princess Lalun home to his own country.

 

indian Fairy Tale: the Magic Fiddle

Indian Fairy Tale: the Magic Fiddle

Once upon a time there lived seven brothers and a sister. The brothers were married, but their wives did not do the cooking for the family. It was done by their sister, who stopped at home to cook. The wives for this reason bore their sister-in-law much ill-will, and at length they combined together to oust her from the office of cook and general provider, so that one of themselves might obtain it. They said, "She does not go out to the fields to work, but remains quietly at home, and yet she has not the meals ready at the proper time." They then called upon their Bonga, and vowing vows unto him they secured his good-will and assistance; then they said to the Bonga, "At midday when our sister-in-law goes to bring water, cause it thus to happen, that on seeing her pitcher the water shall vanish, and again slowly re-appear. In this way she will be delayed. Let the water not flow into her pitcher, and you may keep the maiden as your own."

At noon when she went to bring water, it suddenly dried up before her, and she began to weep. Then after a while the water began slowly to rise. When it reached her ankles she tried to fill her pitcher, but it would not go under the water. Being frightened she began to wail and cry to her brother:

"Oh! my brother, the water reaches to my ankles, Still, Oh! my brother, the pitcher will not dip."

The water continued to rise until it reached her knee, when she began to wail again,"Oh! my brother, the water reaches to my knee, Still, Oh! my brother, the pitcher will not dip."

The water continued to rise, and when it reached her waist, she cried again:"Oh! my brother, the water reaches to my waist, Still, Oh! my brother, the pitcher will not dip."

The water still rose, and when it reached her neck she kept on crying:

"Oh! my brother, the water reaches to my neck, Still, Oh! my brother, the pitcher will not dip."

At length the water became so deep that she felt herself drowning, then she cried aloud:

"Oh! my brother, the water measures a man's height, Oh! my brother, the pitcher begins to fill."

The pitcher filled with water, and along with it she sank and was drowned. The Bonga then transformed her into a Bonga like himself, and carried her off.

After a time she re-appeared as a bamboo growing on the embankment of the tank in which she had been drowned. When the bamboo had grown to an immense size, a Jogi, who was in the habit of passing that way, seeing it, said to himself, "This will make a splendid fiddle." So one day he brought an axe to cut it down; but when he was about to begin, the bamboo called out, "Do not cut at the root, cut higher up." When he lifted his axe to cut high up the stem, the bamboo cried out, "Do not cut near the top, cut at the root." When the Jogi again prepared himself to cut at the root as requested, the bamboo said, "Do not cut at the root, cut higher up;" and when he was about to cut higher up, it again called out to him, "Do not cut high up, cut at the root." The Jogi by this time felt sure that a Bonga was trying to frighten him, so becoming angry he cut down the bamboo at the root, and taking it away made a fiddle out of it. The instrument had a superior tone and delighted all who heard it. The Jogi carried it with him when he went a-begging, and through the influence of its sweet music he returned home every evening with a full wallet.

He now and then visited, when on his rounds, the house of the Bonga girl's brothers, and the strains of the fiddle affected them greatly. Some of them were moved even to tears, for the fiddle seemed to wail as one in bitter anguish. The elder brother wished to purchase it, and offered to support the Jogi for a whole year if he would consent to part with his wonderful instrument. The Jogi, however, knew its value, and refused to sell it.

It so happened that the Jogi some time after went to the house of a village chief, and after playing a tune or two on his fiddle asked for something to eat. They offered to buy his fiddle and promised a high price for it, but he refused to sell it, as his fiddle brought to him his means of livelihood. When they saw that he was not to be prevailed upon, they gave him food and a plentiful supply of liquor. Of the latter he drank so freely that he presently became intoxicated. While he was in this condition, they took away his fiddle, and substituted their own old one for it. When the Jogi recovered, he missed his instrument, and suspecting that it had been stolen asked them to return it to him. They denied having taken it, so he had to depart, leaving his fiddle behind him. The chief's son, being a musician, used to play on the Jogi's fiddle, and in his hands the music it gave forth delighted the ears of all who heard it.

When all the household were absent at their labours in the fields, the Bonga girl used to come out of the bamboo fiddle, and prepared the family meal. Having eaten her own share, she placed that of the chief's son under his bed, and covering it up to keep off the dust, re-entered the fiddle. This happening every day, the other members of the household thought that some girl friend of theirs was in this manner showing her interest in the young man, so they did not trouble themselves to find out how it came about. The young chief, however, was determined to watch, and see which of his girl friends was so attentive to his comfort. He said in his own mind, "I will catch her to-day, and give her a sound beating; she is causing me to be ashamed before the others." So saying, he hid himself in a corner in a pile of firewood. In a short time the girl came out of the bamboo fiddle, and began to dress her hair. Having completed her toilet, she cooked the meal of rice as usual, and having eaten some herself, she placed the young man's portion under his bed, as before, and was about to enter the fiddle again, when he, running out from his hiding-place, caught her in his arms. The Bonga girl exclaimed, "Fie! Fie! you may be a Dom, or you may be a Hadi of some other caste with whom I cannot marry." He said, "No. But from to-day, you and I are one." So they began lovingly to hold converse with each other. When the others returned home in the evening, they saw that she was both a human being and a Bonga, and they rejoiced exceedingly.

Now in course of time the Bonga girl's family became very poor, and her brothers on one occasion came to the chief's house on a visit.

The Bonga girl recognised them at once, but they did not know who she was. She brought them water on their arrival, and afterwards set cooked rice before them. Then sitting down near them, she began in wailing tones to upbraid them on account of the treatment she had been subjected to by their wives. She related all that had befallen her, and wound up by saying, "You must have known it all, and yet you did not interfere to save me." And that was all the revenge she took.

Hindi Fairy Tale for Kids Phulmati Rani

Hindi Fairy Tale for Kids Phulmati Rani
Indian Pari Katha for Kids
Fairy tales from the world

HERE were once a Raja and a Rani who had an only daughter called the Phulmati Rani, or the Pink-rose Queen. She was so beautiful that if she went into a very dark room it was all lighted up by her beauty. On her head was the sun; on her hands, moons; and her face was covered with stars. She had hair that reached to the ground, and it was made of pure gold.

Every day after she had had her bath, her father and mother used to weigh her in a pair of scales. She only weighed one flower. She ate very, very little food. This made her father most unhappy, and he said, “I cannot let my daughter marry any one who weighs more than one flower.” Now, God loved this girl dearly, so he went down under the ground to see if any of the fairy Rajas was fit to be the Phulmati Rani’s husband, and he thought none of them good enough. So he went in the form of a Fakir to see the great Indrasan Raja who ruled over all the other fairy Rajas. This Raja was exceedingly beautiful. On his head was the sun; and on his hands, moons; and on his face, stars. God made him weigh very little. Then he said to the Raja, “Come up with me, and we will go to the palace of the Phulmati Rani.” God had told the Raja that he was God and not a Fakir, for he loved the Indrasan Raja. “Very well,” said the Indrasan Raja. So they travelled on until they came to the Phulmati Rani’s palace.

When they arrived there they pitched a tent in her compound, and they used to walk about, and whenever they saw the Phulmati Rani they looked at her. One day they saw her having her hair combed, so God said to the Indrasan Raja, “Get a horse and ride where the Phulmati Rani can see you, and if any one asks you who you are, say, ‘Oh, it’s only a poor Fakir, and I am his son. We have come to stay here a little while just to see the country. We will go away very soon.’” Well, he got a horse and rode about, and Phulmati Rani, who was having her hair combed in the verandah, said, “I am sure that must be some Raja; only see how beautiful he is.” And she sent one of her servants to ask him who he was. So the servant said to the Indrasan Raja, “Who are you? why are you here? what do you want?” “Oh, it’s only a poor Fakir, and I am his son. We have just come here for a little while to see the country. We will go away very soon.” So the servants returned to the Phulmati Rani and told her what the Indrasan Raja had said. The Phulmati Rani told her father about this.

The next day, when the Phulmati Rani and her father were standing in the verandah, God took a pair of scales and weighed the Indrasan Raja in them. His weight was only that of one flower! “Oh,” said the Raja, when he saw that, “here is the husband for the Phulmati Rani!” The next day, after the Phulmati Rani had had her bath, her father took her and weighed her, and he also weighed the Indrasan Raja. And they were each the same weight. Each weighed one flower, although the Indrasan Raja was fat and the Phulmati Rani thin. The next day they were married, and there was a grand wedding. God said he was too poor-looking [3] to appear, so he bought a quantity of elephants, and camels, and horses, and cows, and sheep, and goats, and made a procession, and came to the wedding. Then he went back to heaven, but before he went he said to the Indrasan Raja “You must stay here one whole year; then go back to your father and to your kingdom. As long as you put flowers on your ears no danger will come near you.” (This was in order that the fairies might know that he was a very great Raja and not hurt him.) “All right,” said the Indrasan Raja. And God went back to heaven.

So the Indrasan Raja stayed for a whole year. Then he told the Raja, the Phulmati Rani’s father, that he wished to go back to his own kingdom. “All right,” said the Raja, and he wanted to give him horses, and camels, and elephants. But the Indrasan Raja and the Phulmati Rani said they wanted nothing but a tent and a cooly. Well, they set out; but the Indrasan Raja forgot to put flowers on his ears, and after some days the Indrasan Raja was very, very tired, so he said, “We will sit down under these big trees and rest awhile. Our baggage will soon be here; it is only a little way behind.” So they sat down, and the Raja said he felt so tired he must sleep. “Very well,” said the Rani; “lay your head in my lap and sleep.”

After a while a shoemaker’s wife came by to get some water from a tank which was close to the spot where the Raja and Rani were resting. Now, the shoemaker’s wife was very black and ugly, and she had only one eye, and she was exceedingly wicked. The Rani was very thirsty and she said to the woman, “Please give me some water, I am so thirsty.” “If you want any,” said the shoemaker’s wife, “come to the tank and get it yourself.” “But I cannot,” said the Rani, “for the Raja is sleeping in my lap.” At last the poor Rani got so very, very thirsty, she said she must have some water; so laying the Raja’s head very gently on the ground she went to the tank. Then the wicked shoemaker’s wife, instead of giving her to drink, gave her a push and sent the beautiful Rani into the water, where she was drowned. The shoemaker’s wife then went back to the Raja, and, taking his head on her knee, sat still until he woke. When the Raja woke he was much frightened, and he said, “This is not my wife. My wife was not black, and she had two eyes.” The poor Raja felt very unhappy. He said, “I am sure something has happened to my wife.” He went to the tank, and he saw flowers floating on the water and he caught them, and as he caught them his own true wife stood before him.

They travelled on till they came to a little house. The shoemaker’s wife went with them. They went into the house and laid themselves down to sleep, and the Raja laid beside him the flowers he had found floating in the tank. The Rani’s life was in the flowers. As soon as the Raja and Rani were asleep, the shoemaker’s wife took the flowers, broke them into little bits, and burnt them. The Rani died immediately, for the second time. Then the poor Raja, feeling very lonely and unhappy, travelled on to his kingdom, and the shoemaker’s wife went after him. God brought the Phulmati Rani to life a second time, and led her to the Indrasan Raja’s gardener.

One day as the Indrasan Raja was going out hunting, he passed by the gardener’s house, and saw a beautiful girl sitting in it. He thought she looked very like his wife, the Phulmati Rani. So he went home to his father and said, “Father, I should like to be married to the girl who lives in our gardener’s house.” “All right,” said the father; “you can be married at once.” So they were married the next day.

One night the shoemaker’s wife took a ram, killed it, and put some of its blood on the Phulmati Rani’s mouth while the Rani slept. The next morning she went to the Indrasan Raja and said, “Whom have you married? You have married a Rakshas. Just see. She has been eating cows, and sheep, and chickens. Just come and see.” The Raja went, and when he saw the blood on his wife’s mouth he was frightened, and he thought she was really a Rakshas. The shoemaker’s wife said to him, “If you do not cut this woman in pieces, some harm will happen to you.” So the Raja took a knife and cut his beautiful wife into pieces. He then went away very sorrowful. The Phulmati Rani’s arms and legs grew into four houses; her chest became a tank, and her head a house in the middle of the tank; her eyes turned into two little doves; and these five houses, the tank and the doves, were transported to the jungle. No one knew this. The little doves lived in the house that stood in the middle of the tank. The other four houses stood round the tank.

One day when the Indrasan Raja was hunting by himself in the jungle he was very tired, and he saw the house in the tank. So he said, “I will go into that house to rest a little while, and to-morrow I will return home to my father.” So, tying his horse outside, he went into the house and lay down to sleep. By and by, the two little birds came and perched on the roof above his head. They began to talk, and the Raja listened. The little husband-dove said to his wife, “This is the man who cut his wife to pieces.” And then he told her how the Indrasan Raja had married the beautiful Phulmati Rani, who weighed only one flower, and how the shoemaker’s wife had drowned her; how God had brought her to life again; how the shoemaker’s wife had burned her; and last of all, how the Raja himself had cut her to pieces. “And cannot the Raja find her again?” said the little wife-dove. “Oh, yes, he can,” said her husband, “but he does not know how to do so.” “But do tell me how he can find her,” said the little wife-dove. “Well,” said her husband, “every night, at twelve o’clock, the Rani and her servants [6] come to bathe in the tank. Her servants wear yellow dresses, but she wears a red one. Now, if the Raja could get all their dresses, every one, when they lay them down and go into the tank to bathe, and throw away all the yellow dresses one by one, keeping only the red one, he would recover his wife.”

The Raja heard all these things, and at midnight the Rani and her servants came to bathe. The Raja lay very quiet, and after they all had taken off their dresses and gone into the tank, he jumped up and seized every one of the dresses,—he did not leave one of them,—and ran away as hard as he could. Then each of the servants, who were only fairies, screamed out, “Give me my dress! What are you doing? why do you take it away?” Then the Raja dropped one by one the yellow dresses and kept the red one. The fairy servants picked up the dresses, and forsook the Phulmati Rani and ran away. The Raja came back to her with her dress in his hand, and she said, “Oh, give me back my dress. If you keep it I shall die. Three times has God brought me to life, but he will bring me to life no more.” The Raja fell at her feet and begged her pardon, and they were reconciled. And he gave her back her dress. Then they went home, and Indrasan Raja had the shoemaker’s wife cut to pieces, and buried in the jungle. And they lived happily ever after.