The Story of a Brahmadaitya

Once on a time there lived a poor Brahman who had a wife. As he had

no means of livelihood, he used every day to beg from door to door,

and thus got some rice which they boiled and ate, together with some

greens which they gleaned from the fields. After some time it chanced

that the village changed its owner, and the Brahman bethought himself

of asking some boon of the new laird. So one morning the Brahman

went to the laird's house to pay him court. It so happened that at

that time the laird was making inquiries of his servants about the

village and its various parts. The laird was told that a certain

banyan-tree in the outskirts of the village was haunted by a number

of ghosts; and that no man had ever the boldness to go to that tree

at night. In bygone days some rash fellows went to the tree at night,

but the necks of them all were wrung, and they all died. Since that

time no man had ventured to go to the tree at night, though in the

day some neat-herds took their cows to the spot. The new laird on

hearing this said, that if any one would go at night to the tree, cut

one of its branches and bring it to him, he would make him a present

of a hundred bighas [33] of rent-free land. None of the servants of

the laird accepted the challenge, as they were sure they would be

throttled by the ghosts. The Brahman, who was sitting there, thought

within himself thus--"I am almost starved to death now, as I never get

my bellyful. If I go to the tree at night and succeed in cutting off

one of its branches I shall get one hundred bighas of rent-free land,

and become independent for life. If the ghosts kill me, my case will

not be worse, for to die of hunger is no better than to be killed by

ghosts." He then offered to go to the tree and cut off a branch that

night. The laird renewed his promise, and said to the Brahman that if

he succeeded in bringing one of the branches of that haunted tree at

night he would certainly give him one hundred bighas of rent-free land.

In the course of the day when the people of the village heard of the

laird's promise and of the Brahman's offer, they all pitied the poor

man. They blamed him for his foolhardiness, as they were sure the

ghosts would kill him, as they had killed so many before. His wife

tried to dissuade him from the rash undertaking; but in vain. He said

he would die in any case; but there was some chance of his escaping,

and of thus becoming independent for life. Accordingly, one hour after

sundown, the Brahman set out. He went to the outskirts of the village

without the slightest fear as far as a certain vakula-tree (Mimusops

Elengi), from which the haunted tree was about one rope distant. But

under the vakula-tree the Brahman's heart misgave him. He began to

quake with fear, and the heaving of his heart was like the upward and

downward motion of the paddy-husking pedal. The vakula-tree was the

haunt of a Brahmadaitya, who, seeing the Brahman stop under the tree,

spoke to him, and said, "Are you afraid, Brahman? Tell me what you wish

to do, and I'll help you. I am a Brahmadaitya." The Brahman replied,

"O blessed spirit, I wish to go to yonder banyan-tree, and cut off

one of its branches for the zemindar, who has promised to give me one

hundred bighas of rent-free land for it. But my courage is failing

me. I shall thank you very much for helping me." The Brahmadaitya

answered, "Certainly I'll help you, Brahman. Go on towards the tree,

and I'll come with you." The Brahman, relying on the supernatural

strength of his invisible patron, who is the object of the fear and

reverence of common ghosts, fearlessly walked towards the haunted tree,

on reaching which he began to cut a branch with the bill which was

in his hand. But the moment the first stroke was given, a great many

ghosts rushed towards the Brahman, who would have been torn to pieces

but for the interference of the Brahmadaitya. The Brahmadaitya said in

a commanding tone, "Ghosts, listen. This is a poor Brahman. He wishes

to get a branch of this tree which will be of great use to him. It is

my will that you let him cut a branch." The ghosts, hearing the voice

of the Brahmadaitya, replied, "Be it according to thy will, lord. At

thy bidding we are ready to do anything. Let not the Brahman take

the trouble of cutting; we ourselves will cut a branch for him." So

saying, in the twinkling of an eye, the ghosts put into the hands of

the Brahman a branch of the tree, with which he went as fast as his

legs could carry him to the house of the zemindar. The zemindar and

his people were not a little surprised to see the branch; but he said,

"Well, I must see to-morrow whether this branch is a branch of the

haunted tree or not; if it be, you will get the promised reward."

Next morning the zemindar himself went along with his servants to the

haunted tree, and found to their infinite surprise that the branch in

their hands was really a branch of that tree, as they saw the part

from which it had been cut off. Being thus satisfied, the zemindar

ordered a deed to be drawn up, by which he gave to the Brahman for

ever one hundred bighas of rent-free land. Thus in one night the

Brahman became a rich man.

It so happened that the fields, of which the Brahman became the owner,

were covered with ripe paddy, ready for the sickle. But the Brahman

had not the means to reap the golden harvest. He had not a pice in

his pocket for paying the wages of the reapers. What was the Brahman

to do? He went to his spirit-friend the Brahmadaitya, and said,

"Oh, Brahmadaitya, I am in great distress. Through your kindness I

got the rent-free land all covered with ripe paddy. But I have not

the means of cutting the paddy, as I am a poor man. What shall I

do?" The kind Brahmadaitya answered, "Oh, Brahman, don't be troubled

in your mind about the matter. I'll see to it that the paddy is not

only cut, but that the corn is threshed and stored up in granaries,

and the straw piled up in ricks. Only you do one thing. Borrow from

men in the village one hundred sickles, and put them all at the foot

of this tree at night. Prepare also the exact spot on which the grain

and the straw are to be stored up."

The joy of the Brahman knew no bounds. He easily got a hundred sickles,

as the husbandmen of the village, knowing that he had become rich,

readily lent him what he wanted. At sunset he took the hundred sickles

and put them beneath the vakula-tree. He also selected a spot of ground

near his hut for his magazine of paddy and for his ricks of straw;

and washed the spot with a solution of cow-dung and water. After

making these preparations he went to sleep.

In the meantime, soon after nightfall, when the villagers had all

retired to their houses, the Brahmadaitya called to him the ghosts

of the haunted tree, who were one hundred in number, and said to

them, "You must to-night do some work for the poor Brahman whom I

am befriending. The hundred bighas of land which he has got from the

zemindar are all covered with standing ripe corn. He has not the means

to reap it. This night you all must do the work for him. Here are,

you see, a hundred sickles; let each of you take a sickle in hand and

come to the field I shall show him. There are a hundred of you. Let

each ghost cut the paddy of one bigha, bring the sheaves on his back

to the Brahman's house, thresh the corn, put the corn in one large

granary, and pile up the straw in separate ricks. Now, don't lose

time. You must do it all this very night." The hundred ghosts at once

said to the Brahmadaitya, "We are ready to do whatever your lordship

commands us." The Brahmadaitya showed the ghosts the Brahman's house,

and the spot prepared for receiving the grain and the straw, and

then took them to the Brahman's fields, all waving with the golden

harvest. The ghosts at once fell to it. A ghost harvest-reaper is

different from a human harvest-reaper. What a man cuts in a whole day,

a ghost cuts in a minute. Mash, mash, mash, the sickles went round,

and the long stalks of paddy fell to the ground. The reaping over,

the ghosts took up the sheaves on their huge backs and carried them

all to the Brahman's house. The ghosts then separated the grain from

the straw, stored up the grain in one huge store-house, and piled

up the straw in many a fantastic rick. It was full two hours before

sunrise when the ghosts finished their work and retired to rest on

their tree. No words can tell either the joy of the Brahman and his

wife when early next morning they opened the door of their hut, or

the surprise of the villagers, when they saw the huge granary and the

fantastic ricks of straw. The villagers did not understand it. They

at once ascribed it to the gods.

A few days after this the Brahman went to the vakula-tree and

said to the Brahmadaitya, "I have one more favour to ask of you,

Brahmadaitya. As the gods have been very gracious to me, I wish to feed

one thousand Brahmans; and I shall thank you for providing me with the

materials of the feast." "With the greatest pleasure," said the polite

Brahmadaitya; "I'll supply you with the requirements of a feast for

a thousand Brahmans; only show me the cellars in which the provisions

are to be stored away." The Brahman improvised a store-room. The day

before the feast the store-room was overflowing with provisions. There

were one hundred jars of ghi (clarified butter), one hill of flour, one

hundred jars of sugar, one hundred jars of milk, curds, and congealed

milk, and the other thousand and one things required in a great

Brahmanical feast. The next morning one hundred Brahman pastrycooks

were employed; the thousand Brahmans ate their fill; but the host,

the Brahman of the story, did not eat. He thought he would eat with

the Brahmadaitya. But the Brahmadaitya, who was present there though

unseen, told him that he could not gratify him on that point, as by

befriending the Brahman the Brahmadaitya's allotted period had come

to an end, and the pushpaka [34] chariot had been sent to him from

heaven. The Brahmadaitya, being released from his ghostly life, was

taken up into heaven; and the Brahman lived happily for many years,

begetting sons and grandsons.

Here my story endeth,

The Natiya-thorn withereth, etc.

1 The ghost of a Brahman who dies unmarried.

2 A bigha is about the third part of an acre.

3 The chariot of Kuvera, the Hindu god of riches.