Life's Secret

There was a king who had two queens, Duo and Suo. [1] Both of them

were childless. One day a Faquir (mendicant) came to the palace-gate

to ask for alms. The Suo queen went to the door with a handful of

rice. The mendicant asked whether she had any children. On being

answered in the negative, the holy mendicant refused to take alms, as

the hands of a woman unblessed with child are regarded as ceremonially

unclean. He offered her a drug for removing her barrenness, and she

expressing her willingness to receive it, he gave it to her with the

following directions:--"Take this nostrum, swallow it with the juice

of the pomegranate flower; if you do this, you will have a son in due

time. The son will be exceedingly handsome, and his complexion will

be of the colour of the pomegranate flower; and you shall call him

Dalim Kumar. [2] As enemies will try to take away the life of your

son, I may as well tell you that the life of the boy will be bound up

in the life of a big boal fish which is in your tank, in front of the

palace. In the heart of the fish is a small box of wood, in the box is

a necklace of gold, that necklace is the life of your son. Farewell."

In the course of a month or so it was whispered in the palace

that the Suo queen had hopes of an heir. Great was the joy of

the king. Visions of an heir to the throne, and of a never-ending

succession of powerful monarchs perpetuating his dynasty to the

latest generations, floated before his mind, and made him glad as he

had never been in his life. The usual ceremonies performed on such

occasions were celebrated with great pomp; and the subjects made loud

demonstrations of their joy at the anticipation of so auspicious an

event as the birth of a prince. In the fulness of time the Suo queen

gave birth to a son of uncommon beauty. When the king the first time

saw the face of the infant, his heart leaped with joy. The ceremony

of the child's first rice was celebrated with extraordinary pomp,

and the whole kingdom was filled with gladness.

In course of time Dalim Kumar grew up a fine boy. Of all sports he was

most addicted to playing with pigeons. This brought him into frequent

contact with his stepmother, the Duo queen, into whose apartments

Dalim's pigeons had a trick of always flying. The first time the

pigeons flew into her rooms, she readily gave them up to the owner;

but the second time she gave them up with some reluctance. The fact

is that the Duo queen, perceiving that Dalim's pigeons had this happy

knack of flying into her apartments, wished to take advantage of it

for the furtherance of her own selfish views. She naturally hated the

child, as the king, since his birth, neglected her more than ever,

and idolised the fortunate mother of Dalim. She had heard, it is not

known how, that the holy mendicant that had given the famous pill

to the Suo queen had also told her of a secret connected with the

child's life. She had heard that the child's life was bound up with

something--she did not know with what. She determined to extort that

secret from the boy. Accordingly, the next time the pigeons flew

into her rooms, she refused to give them up, addressing the child

thus:--"I won't give the pigeons up unless you tell me one thing."

Dalim. What thing, mamma?

Duo. Nothing particular, my darling; I only want to know in what your

life is.

Dalim. What is that, mamma? Where can my life be except in me?

Duo. No, child; that is not what I mean. A holy mendicant told your

mother that your life is bound up with something. I wish to know what

that thing is.

Dalim. I never heard of any such thing, mamma.

Duo. If you promise to inquire of your mother in what thing your

life is, and if you tell me what your mother says, then I will let

you have the pigeons, otherwise not.

Dalim. Very well, I'll inquire, and let you know. Now, please, give

me my pigeons.

Duo. I'll give them on one condition more. Promise to me that you

will not tell your mother that I want the information.

Dalim. I promise.

The Duo queen let go the pigeons, and Dalim, overjoyed to find again

his beloved birds, forgot every syllable of the conversation he had

had with his stepmother. The next day, however, the pigeons again flew

into the Duo queen's rooms. Dalim went to his stepmother, who asked

him for the required information. The boy promised to ask his mother

that very day, and begged hard for the release of the pigeons. The

pigeons were at last delivered. After play, Dalim went to his mother

and said--"Mamma, please tell me in what my life is contained." "What

do you mean, child?" asked the mother, astonished beyond measure at

the child's extraordinary question. "Yes, mamma," rejoined the child,

"I have heard that a holy mendicant told you that my life is contained

in something. Tell me what that thing is." "My pet, my darling, my

treasure, my golden moon, do not ask such an inauspicious question. Let

the mouth of my enemies be covered with ashes, and let my Dalim live

for ever," said the mother, earnestly. But the child insisted on being

informed of the secret. He said he would not eat or drink anything

unless the information were given him. The Suo queen, pressed by the

importunity of her son, in an evil hour told the child the secret of

his life. The next day the pigeons again, as fate would have it, flew

into the Duo queen's rooms. Dalim went for them; the stepmother plied

the boy with sugared words, and obtained the knowledge of the secret.

The Duo queen, on learning the secret of Dalim Kumar's life, lost

no time in using it for the prosecution of her malicious design. She

told her maid-servants to get for her some dried stalks of the hemp

plant, which are very brittle, and which, when pressed upon, make

a peculiar noise, not unlike the cracking of joints of bones in the

human body. These hemp stalks she put under her bed, upon which she

laid herself down and gave out that she was dangerously ill. The

king, though he did not love her so well as his other queen, was

in duty bound to visit her in her illness. The queen pretended that

her bones were all cracking; and sure enough, when she tossed from

one side of her bed to the other, the hemp stalks made the noise

wanted. The king, believing that the Duo queen was seriously ill,

ordered his best physician to attend her. With that physician the

Duo queen was in collusion. The physician said to the king that for

the queen's complaint there was but one remedy, which consisted in

the outward application of something to be found inside a large boal

fish which was in the tank before the palace. The king's fisherman was

accordingly called and ordered to catch the boal in question. On the

first throw of the net the fish was caught. It so happened that Dalim

Kumar, along with other boys, was playing not far from the tank. The

moment the boal fish was caught in the net, that moment Dalim felt

unwell; and when the fish was brought up to land, Dalim fell down on

the ground, and made as if he was about to breathe his last. He was

immediately taken into his mother's room, and the king was astonished

on hearing of the sudden illness of his son and heir. The fish was

by the order of the physician taken into the room of the Duo queen,

and as it lay on the floor striking its fins on the ground, Dalim

in his mother's room was given up for lost. When the fish was cut

open, a casket was found in it; and in the casket lay a necklace of

gold. The moment the necklace was worn by the queen, that very moment

Dalim died in his mother's room.

When the news of the death of his son and heir reached the king he was

plunged into an ocean of grief, which was not lessened in any degree

by the intelligence of the recovery of the Duo queen. He wept over

his dead Dalim so bitterly that his courtiers were apprehensive of a

permanent derangement of his mental powers. The king would not allow

the dead body of his son to be either buried or burnt. He could not

realise the fact of his son's death; it was so entirely causeless

and so terribly sudden. He ordered the dead body to be removed to

one of his garden-houses in the suburbs of the city, and to be laid

there in state. He ordered that all sorts of provisions should be

stowed away in that house, as if the young prince needed them for his

refection. Orders were issued that the house should be kept locked

up day and night, and that no one should go into it except Dalim's

most intimate friend, the son of the king's prime minister, who was

intrusted with the key of the house, and who obtained the privilege

of entering it once in twenty-four hours.

As, owing to her great loss, the Suo queen lived in retirement,

the king gave up his nights entirely to the Duo queen. The latter,

in order to allay suspicion, used to put aside the gold necklace at

night; and, as fate had ordained that Dalim should be in the state

of death only during the time that the necklace was round the neck

of the queen, he passed into the state of life whenever the necklace

was laid aside. Accordingly Dalim revived every night, as the Duo

queen every night put away the necklace, and died again the next

morning when the queen put it on. When Dalim became reanimated

at night he ate whatever food he liked, for of such there was a

plentiful stock in the garden-house, walked about on the premises,

and meditated on the singularity of his lot. Dalim's friend, who

visited him only during the day, found him always lying a lifeless

corpse; but what struck him after some days was the singular fact that

the body remained in the same state in which he saw it on the first

day of his visit. There was no sign of putrefaction. Except that it

was lifeless and pale, there were no symptoms of corruption--it was

apparently quite fresh. Unable to account for so strange a phenomenon,

he determined to watch the corpse more closely, and to visit it not

only during the day but sometimes also at night. The first night that

he paid his visit he was astounded to see his dead friend sauntering

about in the garden. At first he thought the figure might be only

the ghost of his friend, but on feeling him and otherwise examining

him, he found the apparition to be veritable flesh and blood. Dalim

related to his friend all the circumstances connected with his death;

and they both concluded that he revived at nights only because the

Duo queen put aside her necklace when the king visited her. As the

life of the prince depended on the necklace, the two friends laid

their heads together to devise if possible some plans by which they

might get possession of it. Night after night they consulted together,

but they could not think of any feasible scheme. At length the gods

brought about the deliverance of Dalim Kumar in a wonderful manner.

Some years before the time of which we are speaking, the sister of

Bidhata-Purusha [3] was delivered of a daughter. The anxious mother

asked her brother what he had written on her child's forehead;

to which Bidhata-Purusha replied that she should get married to a

dead bridegroom. Maddened as she became with grief at the prospect of

such a dreary destiny for her daughter, she yet thought it useless to

remonstrate with her brother, for she well knew that he never changed

what he once wrote. As the child grew in years she became exceedingly

beautiful, but the mother could not look upon her with pleasure in

consequence of the portion allotted to her by her divine brother. When

the girl came to marriageable age, the mother resolved to flee from

the country with her, and thus avert her dreadful destiny. But the

decrees of fate cannot thus be overruled. In the course of their

wanderings the mother and daughter arrived at the gate of that very

garden-house in which Dalim Kumar lay. It was evening. The girl said

she was thirsty and wanted to drink water. The mother told her daughter

to sit at the gate, while she went to search for drinking water in some

neighbouring hut. In the meantime the girl through curiosity pushed

the door of the garden-house, which opened of itself. She then went

in and saw a beautiful palace, and was wishing to come out when the

door shut itself of its own accord, so that she could not get out. As

night came on the prince revived, and, walking about, saw a human

figure near the gate. He went up to it, and found it was a girl of

surpassing beauty. On being asked who she was, she told Dalim Kumar

all the details of her little history,--how her uncle, the divine

Bidhata-Purusha, wrote on her forehead at her birth that she should

get married to a dead bridegroom, how her mother had no pleasure in

her life at the prospect of so terrible a destiny, and how, therefore,

on the approach of her womanhood, with a view to avert so dreadful a

catastrophe, she had left her house with her and wandered in various

places, how they came to the gate of the garden-house, and how her

mother had now gone in search of drinking water for her. Dalim Kumar,

hearing her simple and pathetic story, said, "I am the dead bridegroom,

and you must get married to me, come with me to the house." "How

can you be said to be a dead bridegroom when you are standing and

speaking to me?" said the girl. "You will understand it afterwards,"

rejoined the prince, "come now and follow me." The girl followed the

prince into the house. As she had been fasting the whole day the

prince hospitably entertained her. As for the mother of the girl,

the sister of the divine Bidhata-Purusha, she returned to the gate

of the garden-house after it was dark, cried out for her daughter,

and getting no answer, went away in search of her in the huts in the

neighbourhood. It is said that after this she was not seen anywhere.

While the niece of the divine Bidhata-Purusha was partaking of the

hospitality of Dalim Kumar, his friend as usual made his appearance. He

was surprised not a little at the sight of the fair stranger; and his

surprise became greater when he heard the story of the young lady from

her own lips. It was forthwith resolved that very night to unite the

young couple in the bonds of matrimony. As priests were out of the

question, the hymeneal rites were performed a la Gandharva. [4] The

friend of the bridegroom took leave of the newly-married couple and

went away to his house. As the happy pair had spent the greater part

of the night in wakefulness, it was long after sunrise that they awoke

from their sleep;--I should have said that the young wife woke from her

sleep, for the prince had become a cold corpse, life having departed

from him. The feelings of the young wife may be easily imagined. She

shook her husband, imprinted warm kisses on his cold lips, but in

vain. He was as lifeless as a marble statue. Stricken with horror, she

smote her breast, struck her forehead with the palms of her hands, tore

her hair and went about in the house and in the garden as if she had

gone mad. Dalim's friend did not come into the house during the day,

as he deemed it improper to pay a visit to her while her husband was

lying dead. The day seemed to the poor girl as long as a year, but the

longest day has its end, and when the shades of evening were descending

upon the landscape, her dead husband was awakened into consciousness;

he rose up from his bed, embraced his disconsolate wife, ate, drank,

and became merry. His friend made his appearance as usual, and the

whole night was spent in gaiety and festivity. Amid this alternation

of life and death did the prince and his lady spend some seven or

eight years, during which time the princess presented her husband

with two lovely boys who were the exact image of their father.

It is superfluous to remark that the king, the two queens, and other

members of the royal household did not know that Dalim Kumar was

living, at any rate, was living at night. They all thought that he

was long ago dead and his corpse burnt. But the heart of Dalim's wife

was yearning after her mother-in-law, whom she had never seen. She

conceived a plan by which she might be able not only to have a

sight of her mother-in-law, but also to get hold of the Duo queen's

necklace, on which her husband's life was dependent. With the consent

of her husband and of his friend she disguised herself as a female

barber. Like every female barber she took a bundle containing the

following articles:--an iron instrument for paring nails, another

iron instrument for scraping off the superfluous flesh of the soles

of the feet, a piece of jhama or burnt brick for rubbing the soles of

the feet with, and alakta [5] for painting the edges of the feet and

toes with. Taking this bundle in her hand she stood at the gate of the

king's palace with her two boys. She declared herself to be a barber,

and expressed a desire to see the Suo queen, who readily gave her an

interview. The queen was quite taken up with the two little boys, who,

she declared, strongly reminded her of her darling Dalim Kumar. Tears

fell profusely from her eyes at the recollection of her lost treasure;

but she of course had not the remotest idea that the two little boys

were the sons of her own dear Dalim. She told the supposed barber

that she did not require her services, as, since the death of her

son, she had given up all terrestrial vanities, and among others the

practice of dyeing her feet red; but she added that, nevertheless,

she would be glad now and then to see her and her two fine boys. The

female barber, for so we must now call her, then went to the quarters

of the Duo queen and offered her services. The queen allowed her to

pare her nails, to scrape off the superfluous flesh of her feet,

and to paint them with alakta and was so pleased with her skill,

and the sweetness of her disposition, that she ordered her to wait

upon her periodically. The female barber noticed with no little

concern the necklace round the queen's neck. The day of her second

visit came on, and she instructed the elder of her two sons to set

up a loud cry in the palace, and not to stop crying till he got into

his hands the Duo queen's necklace. The female barber, accordingly,

went again on the appointed day to the Duo queen's apartments. While

she was engaged in painting the queen's feet, the elder boy set up a

loud cry. On being asked the reason of the cry, the boy, as previously

instructed, said that he wanted the queen's necklace. The queen said

that it was impossible for her to part with that particular necklace,

for it was the best and most valuable of all her jewels. To gratify

the boy, however, she took it off her neck, and put it into the

boy's hand. The boy stopped crying and held the necklace tight in

his hand. As the female barber after she had done her work was about

to go away, the queen wanted the necklace back. But the boy would

not part with it. When his mother attempted to snatch it from him,

he wept bitterly, and showed as if his heart would break. On which

the female barber said--"Will your Majesty be gracious enough to let

the boy take the necklace home with him? When he falls asleep after

drinking his milk, which he is sure to do in the course of an hour,

I will carefully bring it back to you." The queen, seeing that the

boy would not allow it to be taken away from him, agreed to the

proposal of the female barber, especially reflecting that Dalim,

whose life depended on it, had long ago gone to the abodes of death.

Thus possessed of the treasure on which the life of her husband

depended, the woman went with breathless haste to the garden-house and

presented the necklace to Dalim, who had been restored to life. Their

joy knew no bounds, and by the advice of their friend they determined

the next day to go to the palace in state, and present themselves to

the king and the Suo queen. Due preparations were made; an elephant,

richly caparisoned, was brought for the prince Dalim Kumar, a pair

of ponies for the two little boys, and a chaturdala [6] furnished

with curtains of gold lace for the princess. Word was sent to the

king and the Suo queen that the prince Dalim Kumar was not only

alive, but that he was coming to visit his royal parents with his

wife and sons. The king and Suo queen could hardly believe in the

report, but being assured of its truth they were entranced with joy;

while the Duo queen, anticipating the disclosure of all her wiles,

became overwhelmed with grief. The procession of Dalim Kumar, which

was attended by a band of musicians, approached the palace-gate; and

the king and Suo queen went out to receive their long-lost son. It is

needless to say that their joy was intense. They fell on each other's

neck and wept. Dalim then related all the circumstances connected

with his death. The king, inflamed with rage, ordered the Duo queen

into his presence. A large hole, as deep as the height of a man,

was dug in the ground. The Duo queen was put into it in a standing

posture. Prickly thorn was heaped around her up to the crown of her

head; and in this manner she was buried alive.

Thus my story endeth,

The Natiya-thorn withereth;

"Why, O Natiya-thorn, dost wither?"

"Why does thy cow on me browse?"

"Why, O cow, dost thou browse?"

"Why does thy neat-herd not tend me?"

"Why, O neat-herd, dost not tend the cow?"

"Why does thy daughter-in-law not give me rice?"

"Why, O daughter-in-law, dost not give rice?"

"Why does my child cry?"

"Why, O child, dost thou cry?"

"Why does the ant bite me?"

"Why, O ant, dost thou bite?"

Koot! koot! koot!

[1] Kings, in Bengali folk-tales, have invariably two queens--the elder is called duo, that is, not loved; and the younger is called suo, that is, loved.

[2] Dalim or dadimba means a pomegranate, and kumara son.

[3] Bidhata-Purusha is the deity that predetermines all the events of the life of man or woman, and writes on the forehead of the child, on the sixth day of its birth, a brief precis of them.

[4] There are eight forms of marriage spoken of in the Hindu Sastras, of which the Gandharva is one, consisting in the exchange of garlands.

[5] Alakta is leaves or flimsy paper saturated with lac.

[6] A sort of open Palki, used generally for carrying the bridegroom and bride in marriage processions.