BRAVE HÍRÁLÁLBÁSÁ

BRAVE HÍRÁLÁLBÁSÁ

To notes O NCE there was a Rájá called Mánikbásá Rájá, or the

Ruby King, who had seven wives and seven children.

One day he told his wives he would go out

hunting, and he rode on and on, a long, long way from his

palace. A Rakshas was sitting by the wayside, who, seeing the

Rájá coming, quickly turned herself into a beautiful Rání,

and sat there crying. The Rájá asked her, “Why do you

cry?” And the Rakshas answered, “My husband has gone

away. He has been away many days, and I think he will

never come back again. If some Rájá will take me to his

house and marry me, I shall be very glad.” So the Rájá

said, “Will you come with me?” And the Rakshas

answered, “Very well, I will come.” And then the Rájá

took the pretended Rání home with him and married her.

He gave her a room to live in. Every night at twelve

o’clock the Rakshas got up and devoured an elephant, or a

horse, or some other animal. The Rájá said, “What can

become of my elephants and horses? Every day either an

elephant or a horse disappears. Who can take them away?”

The Rakshas-Rání said to him, “Your seven Ránís are

Rakshases, and every night at twelve o’clock they devour a

horse, or an elephant, or some other creature.”

So the Rájá believed her, and had a great hole dug just

outside his kingdom, into which he put the seven Ránís with

their children, and then he sent a sepoy to them and bade

him take out all the Ránís’ eyes, and bring them to him. This [ Pg 52] the sepoy did. After a time the poor Ránís grew so hungry

that six of them ate their children, but the seventh Rání, who

was the youngest of them all, declared she would never eat

her child though she might die of hunger, “for,” she said, “I

love him a great deal too much.” God was very pleased with

the seventh Rání for this, and so every day he sent her a little

food, which she divided with the other Ránís. And every

day her little boy grew bigger, and bigger, and bigger, until

he had become a strong lad, when, as he thought it was very

dark in the hole, he climbed out of it and looked all about.

Then he came back to his mothers (for he called all the

seven Ránís “Mother” now), who told him he was not to

clamber up out of the hole any more, for if he did, some

one might kill him. “Still, if you will go,” they added,

“do not go to your father’s kingdom, but stay near this

place.” The boy said, “Very well,” and every day he climbed

out of the hole and only went where his seven mothers told

him he might go, and he used to beg the people about to

give him a little rice, and flour and bread, which they did.

One day he said to his mothers, “If you let me go now to

my father’s kingdom, I will go.” “Well, you may go,” they

said; “but come back again soon.” This he promised to do,

and he went to his father’s kingdom. For some time he stood

daily at the door of his father’s palace and then returned to

the hole. One day the Rakshas-Rání was standing in the

verandah, and she thought, “I am sure that is the Rájá’s

son.” The servants every day asked the boy, “Why do you

always stand at the door of the palace?” “I want service

with the Rájá,” he would reply. “If the Rájá has any place

he can give me, I will take it.”

The Rakshas-Rání said to the Rájá, “The boy standing

out there wants service. May I take him into mine?”

The Rájá answered, “Very well, send for him.” So all the

servants ran and fetched the boy. The Rakshas-Rání asked [ Pg 53] him, “Are you willing to do anything I tell you?” The

boy said, “Yes.” “Then you shall be my servant,” she

said, and first she told him he must go to the Rakshas

country to fetch some rose-water for her. “I will give you

a letter,” she said, “so that no harm may happen to you.”

The lad answered, “Very well, only you must give me three

shields full of money.” She gave him the three shields full

of money, and he took them and went home to his mothers.

Then he got two servants for them, one to take care of them,

and one to go to the bazar. His mothers gave him food for

the journey, and he left them the remainder of his money,

telling them to take great care of it. He then returned to

the Rakshas-Rání for his letter. She told the Rájá she was

feeling ill, and would not be quite well until she got some

rose-water from the Rakshas country. The Rájá said, “Then

you had better send this boy for it.” So she gave him a letter,

in which she had written, “When this boy arrives among

you, kill him and eat him instantly,” and he set out at once.

He went on and on till he came to a great river in which

lived a huge water-snake. When the water-snake saw him

it began to weep very much, and cried out to the boy, “If

you go to the Rakshas country you will be eaten up.” The

lad, whose name was Hírálálbásá, said, “I cannot help it;

I am the Rání’s servant, so I must do what she tells me.”

“Well,” said the water-snake, “get on my back, and I will

take you across this river.” So he got on the water-snake’s

back, and it took him over the river. Then Hírálálbásá

went on and on until he came to a house in which a Rakshas

lived. A Rání lived there too that the Rakshas had carried

off from her father and mother when she was a little girl.

She was playing in her father the Sondarbásá Rájá’s garden,

which was full of delicious fruits, which the Rakshas came

to eat, and when he saw Sonahrí Rání he seized her in his

mouth and ran off with her. Only she was so beautiful he [ Pg 54] could never find it in his heart to eat her, but brought her up

as his own child. Her name was Sonahrí Rání, that is, the

Golden Rání, because her teeth and her hair were made of

gold. Now the Rakshas who had carried her off, and whom

she called Papa, had a great thick stick, and when he laid

this stick at her feet she could not stir, but when he laid it

at her head, she could move again.

When the Rájá’s son came up, Sonahrí Rání was lying on

her bed with the thick stick at her feet, and as soon as she

saw the Rájá’s son she began to cry very much. “Oh, why

have you come here? You will surely be killed,” she said. The

Rájá’s son answered, “I cannot help that. I am the Rání’s

servant, so I must do what she tells me.” “Of course,” said

Sonahrí Rání; “but put this stick at my head, and then I

shall be able to move.” The Rájá’s son laid the stick at her

head, and she got up and gave him some food, and then

asked him if he had a letter. “Yes,” he answered. “Let

me see it,” said the Sonahrí Rání. So he gave her the letter,

and when she had read it she cried, “Oh, this is a very

wicked letter. It will bring you no good; for if the Rakshases

see it, they will kill you.” “Indeed,” said Hírálálbásá.

And the Sonahrí Rání tore up the letter and wrote another

in which she said, “Make much of this boy. Send him

home quickly, and give him a jug of rose-water to bring back

with him, and see that he gets no hurt.” Then the Rájá’s

son set out again for the Rakshas-Rání’s mother’s house.

He had not gone very far when he met a very big Rakshas,

and he cried out to him, “Uncle.” “Who is this boy,” said

the Rakshas, “who calls me uncle?” And he was just going to

kill him when Hírálálbásá showed his letter, and the Rakshas

let him pass on. He went a little further until he met another

Rakshas, bigger than the first, and the Rakshas screamed

at him and was just going to fall on him and kill him,

but the Rájá’s son showed the letter, and the Rakshas let [ Pg 55] him pass unhurt. When Hírálálbásá came to the Rakshas-Rání’s

mother he showed her the letter, and she gave

him the rose-water at once and sent him off. All the Rakshases

were very good to him, and some carried him part of

the way home. When he came to Sonahrí Rání’s house she

was lying on her bed with the stick at her feet, and as soon

as she saw Hírálálbásá she laughed and said, “Oh, you have

come back again? Put this stick at my head.” “Yes,” said

the Rájá’s son, “I’ve come back again, but I was dreadfully

frightened very often.” Then he put the stick at her head,

and she gave him some food to eat. After he had eaten it

he went on again, and when he came to the river the water-snake

carried him across to the other side, and he travelled

to his father’s kingdom. There he went to the Rakshas-Rání

and gave her the rose-water. She was very angry at

seeing him, and said, “I’m sure my father and my mother,

my brothers and my sisters, don’t love me one bit.”

And she said to Hírálálbásá, “You must go to-morrow to

the Rakshas kingdom to fetch me flowers.” “I will go,”

said Hírálál, “but this time I must have four shields full of

rupees.” The Rakshas-Rání gave him the four shields full

of rupees; and the Rájá’s son went to his mother’s hole and

bought a quantity of food for them, enough to last them all

the time he should be away, and he hired two servants for

them, and said good-bye to his seven mothers and returned

to Mánikbásá’s palace for his letter. This the Rakshas-Rání

gave him, and in it she wrote, “Kill him and eat him at once.

If you do not, and you send him back to me, I will never

see your faces again.” Hírálál took his letters and went on

his way. When he reached the river the water-snake took

him across to the other side, and he walked on till he came

to Sonahrí Rání’s house. She was lying on the bed with

the stick at her feet. “Oh, why have you come here again?”

she said. “How can I help coming?” said the Rájá’s son. [ Pg 56] “I must do what my mistress bids me.” “So you must,”

said the Sonahrí Rání; “but put this stick at my head.”

This he did, and she got up and gave him food, and asked

him to let her see his letter, and when she had read it she

cried, “This is a very wicked letter. If you take it with you,

you will surely die.” Then she tore up the letter and burnt

it, and wrote another in which she said, “You must all be

very good to this boy. Show him all the gardens and see

that he is not hurt in any way.” She gave it to Hírálál, and

he begged her to ask the Rakshas, her father, where he kept

his soul. Sonahrí Rání promised she would. She then

turned Hírálál into a little fly, and put him into a tiny box,

and put the box under her pillow. When the Rakshas came

home he began sniffing about and said, “Surely there is a

man here.” “Oh, no,” said Sonahrí Rání; “no one is here

but me.” The Rakshas was satisfied. When Sonahrí Rání

and her father were in bed she asked, “Papa, where is your

soul?” “Why do you want to know?” said the Rakshas. “I

will tell you another day.”

The next day at nine in the morning the Rakshas went

away, and Sonahrí Rání took Hírálál and restored him to his

human shape, and gave him some food, and he travelled on

till he reached the Rakshas-Rání’s mother, whom he called

Grannie. She welcomed him very kindly and showed him

the garden, which was very large. The Rájá’s son noticed

a number of jugs and water-jars. So he said, “Grannie,

what is there in all these jars and jugs?” She answered,

showing them to him one by one, “In this is such and such

a thing,” and so on, telling him the contents of each,

till she came to the water-jar in which were his mothers’

eyes. “In this jar,” said the Rakshas, “are your seven

mothers’ eyes.” “Oh, grannie dear!” said Hírálál, “give

me my mothers’ eyes.” “Very well, dear boy,” said the

old Rakshas, “you shall have them.” She gave him, too, [ Pg 57] some ointment, and told him to rub the eyes with it when

he put them into his mothers’ heads, and that then they

would see quite well; and he took the eyes and tied them

up in a corner of his cloth. His grannie gave him the

flowers, and he went back to Sonahrí Rání. She was lying

on her bed with the stick at her feet, and when she saw

him she laughed and said, “Oh, so you have come back

again?” “Yes, I have,” said Hírálál; “and I have got

the flowers, and my seven mothers’ eyes too.” “Have you

indeed?” said Sonahrí Rání. “Put this stick at my head.”

He did so, and she got up and gave him some food, and he

told her to ask her father the Rakshas where his soul was.

She promised she would, and she changed him into a little

fly, and shut him up in a tiny box, and put the tiny box

under her pillow. By and by home came the Rakshas, and

began to sniff about crying, “A man is here!” “Oh, no,”

said Sonahrí Rání; and she gave him some dinner, and when

they were in bed she asked him, “Papa, where is your soul?”

“I’ll tell you another day,” said the Rakshas. The next day,

when he had gone out to find food, Sonahrí Rání took the

little fly, Hírálál, and restored him to his human shape, and

gave him some food and sent him on his way. When he

reached the river, the water-snake took him over to the other

side, and he journeyed on till he came to his father’s kingdom.

First he went to his mothers’ hole and gave them their

fourteen eyes, and he put them into their heads with the

ointment which the Rakshas-grannie had given him. Then

he went to Mánikbásá Rájá’s palace, and when the Rakshas-Rání

saw him she was furious. “I am sure my father and

my mother, my sisters and my brothers, do not love me one

bit. I will never see their faces again. But I’ll send him to

them once more.”

This is what she thought, but she took the flowers and

said, “You must go a third time to the Rakshas country.”

[ Pg 58] “I will,” said the boy: “only I’ll not go till the fourth day

from to-day, for I am very tired. And you must give me

four shields full of rupees.” “Good,” said the Rakshas-Rání.

“This time you must get me a sárí.” [2] And she gave

him the four shields full of money. Then he went to his

mothers, and bought them a house and got food for them,

and stayed with them four days.

At the end of the four days he went to the Rakshas-Rání,

who gave him a letter in which she had written, “If you do

not kill and eat this boy as soon as he arrives, I will never

see your faces again.” The Rájá’s son took the letter and

set out on his journey.

When he came to the river, the water-snake took him

across; and when he arrived at Sonahrí Rání’s house, there

she was lying on her bed with the thick stick at her feet. She

said, “Oh, you have come here again, have you?” “Yes,”

he said, “I have come for the last time.” “Put the stick at

my head,” said she. So he laid the stick at her head. Then

she gave him some food, and just before the Rakshas came

home, he bade her ask him where he kept his soul. When

she saw him coming, Sonahrí Rání turned Hírálálbásá into a

little fly, put him in a tiny box, and put the box under her

pillow. As soon as she and the Rakshas had gone to bed,

she asked him, “Papa, where do you keep your soul?”

“Sixteen miles away from this place,” said he, “is a tree.

Round the tree are tigers, and bears, and scorpions, and

snakes; on the top of the tree is a very great fat snake; on

his head is a little cage; in the cage is a bird; and my soul is

in that bird.” The little fly listened all the time. The next

morning, when the Rakshas had gone, Sonahrí Rání took the

fly and gave him back his human form, gave him some food,

and then asked to see his letter. When she had read it she [ Pg 59] screamed and said, “Oh! if you go with this letter you will

surely die.” So she tore it up into little bits and threw it into

the fire. And she wrote another in which she said, “Make

a great deal of this boy; see that he gets no hurt; give him

the sárí for me; show him the garden; and be very kind to

him.” She then gave Hírálál the letter, and he journeyed

on in safety till he reached his Rakshas-grannie’s house.

The Rakshas-grannie was very good to him; showed him

the garden, and gave him the sárí; and he then said his

mother, the Rakshas-Rání, was in great trouble about her

soul, and wanted very much to have it. So the Rakshas-grannie

gave him a bird in which was the Rakshas-Rání’s

soul, charging him to take the greatest care of it. Then he

said, “My mother, the Rakshas-Rání, also wants a stone

such that, if you lay it on the ground, or if you put it in your

clothes, it will become gold, and also your long heavy gold

necklace that hangs down to the waist.” Both these things the

Rakshas-grannie gave to Hírálál. Then he returned to Sonahrí

Rání’s house, where he found her lying on her bed with the

thick stick at her feet. “Oh, there you are,” said Sonahrí Rání,

laughing. “Yes,” he said, “I have come.” And he put the

stick at her head, and she got up and gave him some food.

He told her he was going to fetch her Rakshas-father’s

soul, but that he did not quite know how to pass through the

tigers and bears, and scorpions and snakes, that guarded it.

So she gave him a feather, and said, “As long as you hold this

feather straight, you can come to no harm, for you will be

invisible. You will see everything, but nothing will see you.”

He carried the feather straight as she had bidden him and

reached the tree in safety. Then he climbed up it, took the

little cage, and came down again. Though the Rakshas

was far off, he knew at once something had happened to his

bird. Hírálál pulled off the bird’s right leg, and the Rakshas’

right leg fell off, but on he hopped on one leg. Then the [ Pg 60] Rájá’s son pulled off the bird’s left leg, and off fell the

Rakshas’ left leg, but still he went on towards his house on

his hands. Then Hírálál pulled off the bird’s wings, and the

Rakshas’ two arms fell off. And then, just as the Rakshas

reached the door of his house, Hírálál wrung the bird’s neck,

and the Rakshas fell dead. Sonahrí Rání was greatly frightened

when she heard such a heavy thing fall thump on the

ground so close to the house, but she could not move, for

the thick stick lay at her feet. Hírálál ran as fast as he could

to Sonahrí Rání. When he arrived at the door of her house

he saw the Rakshas lying dead, and he went in and told

Sonahrí Rání that her Rakshas-father was killed. “Nonsense,”

she said. “It is true,” said Hírálál; “come and

see.” So he put the stick at her head. “I am sure you are

telling a lie,” said Sonahrí Rání. “I should be very glad if

he were dead, for I do not like living with him, I am so

afraid of him.” “Indeed he’s dead. Do come and see,”

said Hírálál. Then they went outside, and when Sonahrí

Rání saw her Rakshas-father lying there dead, she was

exceedingly happy, and said to Hírálál, “I will go home

with you, and be your wife.” So they were married, and

then they went into Sonahrí Rání’s Rakshas-father’s house

and took all the money and jewels they could find. And

Hírálál gave the sárí, the stone, and the necklace to Sonahrí

Rání, and he took some flowers for the Rakshas-Rání.

When they came to the river, the water-snake carried them

across to the other side, and they travelled on till they came

to Mánikbásá Rájá’s kingdom. There Hírálál went first of

all to his mothers, and when they saw Sonahrí Rání they

wondered who the beautiful woman could be that their son

had brought home. He said to them, “This is Sonahrí

Rání, my wife. But for her I should have died.” Then he

bought a grand house for Sonahrí Rání and his seven mothers

to live in, and he got four servants for Sonahrí Rání, two [ Pg 61] to cook, and two to wait on her. The seven mothers and

Sonahrí used all to sit on a beautiful, clean quilted cushion,

as big as a carpet, Sonahrí Rání in the middle and the seven

mothers round her, while they sewed, or wrote, and talked.

Hírálál then went to the Rakshas-Rání and said, “I could

not get the sárí you sent me for, so I brought you these

flowers instead.” When she saw the flowers she was frantic.

She said, “My father, my mother, my sisters, my brothers,

don’t care for me, not one bit! not one scrap! I will never

see their faces again—never! never! I will send some

other messenger to them.”

One day the Rájá’s son came to Mánikbásá and said,

“Would you like to see a grand sight?” Mánikbásá Rájá

said, “What sight?” Hírálál said, “If you would like to see

a really grand sight you must do what I tell you.” “Good,”

answered Mánikbásá, “I will do whatever you tell me.”

“Well, then,” said his son, “you must build a very strong

iron house, and round it you must lay heaps of wood. In that

house you must put your present Rání.” So Mánikbásá Rájá

had a very strong iron house built, round which he set walls

of wood. Then he went to his Rakshas-Rání and said,

“Will you go inside that iron house, and see what it is like?”

“Yes, I will,” answered she. The Rájá had had great venetians

made for the house, and only one door. As soon as

the Rakshas-Rání had gone in, he locked the door. Then

Hírálál took the little bird, a cockatoo, in which was the

Rakshas-Rání’s soul, and showed it to the Rakshas-Rání

from afar off. When she saw it she turned herself into a

huge Rakshas as big as a house. She could not turn in the

iron house because she was so huge. Mánikbásá was dreadfully

frightened when he saw his Rání was a horrible Rakshas.

Then Hírálál pulled off the bird’s legs, and as the

Rakshas was breaking through the iron house to seize

Hírálál, he wrung the cockatoo’s neck, and the Rakshas [ Pg 62] died instantly. They set fire to the walls of wood, and the

body of the wicked Rakshas was burnt to fine ashes.

The Rájá’s Wazír turned to the Rájá and said, “What a

fool you were to marry this Rakshas, and at her bidding to

send your seven wives and your seven sons away into the

jungle, taking out your seven wives’ eyes, and being altogether

so cruel to them! You are a great, great fool!” The

poor Rájá wept, and then the Wazír, pointing to Hírálál,

said, “This is your seventh and youngest Rání’s son.” The

Rájá then embraced Hírálálbásá and asked his forgiveness.

And Hírálál told him his story, how he and his mothers had

lived a long, long time in the hole; how six of the Ránís

had eaten their children; how his mother had not had the

heart to eat him; how he had got his seven mothers’ eyes

from the Rakshas-grannie; and lastly, how he had married

Sonahrí Rání. Then the Rájá ordered seven litters for his

seven Ránís, and a beautiful litter with rich cloth for Sonahrí

Rání. The Rájá and his Wazír and his attendants, and his

son, all went with the litters to Hírálál’s house; and when the

Rájá saw Sonahrí Rání he fell flat on his face, he was so struck

by her beauty. For she had a fair, fair skin, rosy cheeks, blue

eyes, rosy lips, golden eyelashes, and golden eyebrows, and

golden hair. When she combed her hair, she used to put the

hair she combed out in paper and to lay the paper on the river,

and it floated down to where the poor people caught it, and

sold it, and got heaps of money for it. Her sárí was of gold,

her shoes were of gold, for God loved her dearly. Then the

Rájá rose and embraced all his wives and Sonahrí Rání, and

the seven Ránís walked into the seven litters; but Sonahrí Rání

was carried to hers, for fear she should soil her feet, or get

hurt. Then Mánikbásá Rájá gave Hírálál’s house to his Wazír,

while his seven Ránís and Hírálál and Sonahrí Rání lived

with him in his palace. And they lived happily for ever after.

Told by Dunkní at Simla, 26th July and 1st August, 1876.

FOOTNOTE: [2] A long piece of stuff which Hindú women wind round the body as

a petticoat, passing one end over the head, like a veil.

[2] A long piece of stuff which Hindú women wind round the body as

a petticoat, passing one end over the head, like a veil.

[2] A long piece of stuff which Hindú women wind round the body as

a petticoat, passing one end over the head, like a veil.

[ Pg 63]