The Story of Swet-basanta

There was a rich merchant who had an only son whom he loved

passionately. He gave to his son whatever he wanted. His son wanted

a beautiful house in the midst of a large garden. The house was built

for him, and the grounds were laid out into a fine garden. One day as

the merchant's son was walking in his garden, he put his hand into

the nest of a small bird called toontooni, and found in it an egg,

which he took and put in an almirah which was dug into the wall of

his house. He closed the door of the almirah, and thought no more of

the egg.

Though the merchant's son had a house of his own, he had no separate

establishment; at any rate he kept no cook, for his mother used to

send him regularly his breakfast and dinner every day. The egg which

he deposited in the wall-almirah one day burst, and out of it came a

beautiful infant, a girl. But the merchant's son knew nothing about

it. He had forgotten everything about the egg, and the door of the

wall-almirah had been kept closed, though not locked, ever since the

day the egg was put there. The child grew up within the wall-almirah

without the knowledge of the merchant's son or of any one else. When

the child could walk, it had the curiosity one day to open the door;

and seeing some food on the floor (the breakfast of the merchant's son

sent by his mother), it came out, and ate a little of it, and returned

to its cell in the wall-almirah. As the mother of the merchant's

son sent him always more than he could himself eat, he perceived no

diminution in the quantity. The girl of the wall-almirah used every

day to come out and eat a part of the food, and after eating used

to return to her place in the almirah. But as the girl got older and

older, she began to eat more and more; hence the merchant's son began

to perceive a diminution in the quantity of his food. Not dreaming of

the existence of the wall-almirah girl, he wondered that his mother

should send him such a small quantity of food. He sent word to his

mother, complaining of the insufficiency of his meals, and of the

slovenly manner in which the food was served up in the dish; for the

girl of the wall-almirah used to finger the rice, curry, and other

articles of food, and as she always went in a hurry back into the

almirah that she might not be perceived by any one, she had no time

to put the rice and the other things into proper order after she had

eaten part of them. The mother was astonished at her son's complaint,

for she gave always a much larger quantity than she knew her son could

consume, and the food was served up on a silver plate neatly by her

own hand. But as her son repeated the same complaint day after day,

she began to suspect foul play. She told her son to watch and see

whether any one ate part of it unperceived. Accordingly, one day when

the servant brought the breakfast and laid it in a clean place on the

floor, the merchant's son, instead of going to bathe as it had hitherto

been his custom, hid himself in a secret place and began to watch. In

a few minutes he saw the door of the wall-almirah open; a beautiful

damsel of sweet sixteen stepped out of it, sat on the carpet spread

before the breakfast, and began to eat. The merchant's son came out

of his hiding-place, and the damsel could not escape. "Who are you,

beautiful creature? You do not seem to be earth-born. Are you one

of the daughters of the gods?" asked the merchant's son. The girl

replied, "I do not know who I am. This I know, that one day I found

myself in yonder almirah, and have been ever since living in it." The

merchant's son thought it strange. He now remembered that sixteen years

before he had put in the almirah an egg he had found in the nest of

a toontooni bird. The uncommon beauty of the wall-almirah girl made

a deep impression on the mind of the merchant's son, and he resolved

in his mind to marry her. The girl no more went into the almirah, but

lived in one of the rooms of the spacious house of the merchant's son.

The next day the merchant's son sent word to his mother to the effect

that he would like to get married. His mother reproached herself

for not having long before thought of her son's marriage, and sent

a message to her son to the effect that she and his father would

the next day send ghataks [14] to different countries to seek for a

suitable bride. The merchant's son sent word that he had secured for

himself a most lovable young lady, and that if his parents had no

objections he would produce her before them. Accordingly the young

lady of the wall-almirah was taken to the merchant's house; and the

merchant and his wife were so struck with the matchless beauty, grace,

and loveliness of the stranger, that, without asking any questions

as to her birth, the nuptials were celebrated.

In course of time the merchant's son had two sons; the elder he

named Swet and the younger Basanta. The old merchant died and so

did his wife. Swet and Basanta grew up fine lads, and the elder was

in due time married. Some time after Swet's marriage his mother,

the wall-almirah lady, also died, and the widower lost no time in

marrying a young and beautiful wife. As Swet's wife was older than

his stepmother, she became the mistress of the house. The stepmother,

like all stepmothers, hated Swet and Basanta with a perfect hatred;

and the two ladies were naturally often at loggerheads with each other.

It so happened one day that a fisherman brought to the merchant (we

shall no longer call him the merchant's son, as his father had died)

a fish of singular beauty. It was unlike any other fish that had

been seen. The fish had marvellous qualities ascribed to it by the

fisherman. If any one eats it, said he, when he laughs maniks [15]

will drop from his mouth, and when he weeps pearls will drop from his

eyes. The merchant, hearing of the wonderful properties of the fish,

bought it at one thousand rupees, and put it into the hands of Swet's

wife, who was the mistress of the house, strictly enjoining on her

to cook it well and to give it to him alone to eat. The mistress,

or house-mother, who had overheard the conversation between her

father-in-law and the fisherman, secretly resolved in her mind to

give the cooked fish to her husband and to his brother to eat, and to

give to her father-in-law instead a frog daintily cooked. When she had

finished cooking both the fish and the frog, she heard the noise of a

squabble between her stepmother-in-law and her husband's brother. It

appears that Basanta, who was but a lad yet, was passionately fond

of pigeons, which he tamed. One of these pigeons had flown into the

room of his stepmother, who had secreted it in her clothes. Basanta

rushed into the room, and loudly demanded the pigeon. His stepmother

denied any knowledge of the pigeon, on which the elder brother,

Swet, forcibly took out the bird from her clothes and gave it to

his brother. The stepmother cursed and swore, and added, "Wait,

when the head of the house comes home I will make him shed the blood

of you both before I give him water to drink." Swet's wife called

her husband and said to him, "My dearest lord, that woman is a most

wicked woman, and has boundless influence over my father-in-law. She

will make him do what she has threatened. Our life is in imminent

danger. Let us first eat a little, and let us all three run away

from this place." Swet forthwith called Basanta to him, and told him

what he had heard from his wife. They resolved to run away before

nightfall. The woman placed before her husband and her brother-in-law

the fish of wonderful properties, and they ate of it heartily. The

woman packed up all her jewels in a box. As there was only one horse,

and it was of uncommon fleetness, the three sat upon it; Swet held

the reins, the woman sat in the middle with the jewel-box in her lap,

and Basanta brought up the rear.

The horse galloped with the utmost swiftness. They passed through

many a plain and many a noted town, till after midnight they found

themselves in a forest not far from the bank of a river. Here

the most untoward event took place. Swet's wife began to feel the

pains of child-birth. They dismounted, and in an hour or two Swet's

wife gave birth to a son. What were the two brothers to do in this

forest? A fire must be kindled to give heat both to the mother and

the new-born baby. But where was the fire to be got? There were no

human habitations visible. Still fire must be procured--and it was

the month of December--or else both the mother and the baby would

certainly perish. Swet told Basanta to sit beside his wife, while he

set out in the darkness of the night in search of fire.

Swet walked many a mile in darkness. Still he saw no human

habitations. At last the genial light of Sukra [16] somewhat illumined

his path, and he saw at a distance what seemed a large city. He was

congratulating himself on his journey's end and on his being able to

obtain fire for the benefit of his poor wife lying cold in the forest

with the new-born babe, when on a sudden an elephant, gorgeously

caparisoned, shot across his path, and gently taking him up by his

trunk, placed him on the rich howdah [17] on its back. It then walked

rapidly towards the city. Swet was quite taken aback. He did not

understand the meaning of the elephant's action, and wondered what

was in store for him. A crown was in store for him. In that kingdom,

the chief city of which he was approaching, every morning a king was

elected, for the king of the previous day was always found dead in

the morning in the room of the queen. What caused the death of the

king no one knew; neither did the queen herself (for every successive

king took her to wife) know the cause. And the elephant who took

hold of Swet was the king-maker. Early in the morning it went about,

sometimes to distant places, and whosoever was brought on its back was

acknowledged king by the people. The elephant majestically marched

through the crowded streets of the city, amid the acclamations of

the people, the meaning of which Swet did not understand, entered

the palace, and placed him on the throne. He was proclaimed king

amid the rejoicings of some and the lamentations of others. In the

course of the day he heard of the strange fatality which overtook

every night the elected king of those realms, but being possessed of

great discretion and courage, he took every precaution to avert the

dreadful catastrophe. Yet he hardly knew what expedients to adopt,

as he was unacquainted with the nature of the danger. He resolved,

however, upon two things, and these were, to go armed into the

queen's bedchamber, and to sit up awake the whole night. The queen

was young and of exquisite beauty, and so guileless and benevolent

was the expression of her face that it was impossible from looking

at her to suppose that she could use any foul means of taking away

the life of her nightly consort. In the queen's chamber Swet spent a

very agreeable evening; as the night advanced the queen fell asleep,

but Swet kept awake, and was on the alert, looking at every creek

and corner of the room, and expecting every minute to be murdered. In

the dead of night he perceived something like a thread coming out of

the left nostril of the queen. The thread was so thin that it was

almost invisible. As he watched it he found it several yards long,

and yet it was coming out. When the whole of it had come out, it

began to grow thick, and in a few minutes it assumed the form of a

huge serpent. In a moment Swet cut off the head of the serpent, the

body of which wriggled violently. He sat quiet in the room, expecting

other adventures. But nothing else happened. The queen slept longer

than usual as she had been relieved of the huge snake which had made

her stomach its den. Early next morning the ministers came expecting

as usual to hear of the king's death; but when the ladies of the

bedchamber knocked at the door of the queen they were astonished

to see Swet come out. It was then known to all the people how that

every night a terrible snake issued from the queen's nostrils, how

it devoured the king every night, and how it had at last been killed

by the fortunate Swet. The whole country rejoiced in the prospect

of a permanent king. It is a strange thing, nevertheless it is true,

that Swet did not remember his poor wife with the new-born babe lying

in the forest, nor his brother attending on her. With the possession

of the throne he seemed to forget the whole of his past history.

Basanta, to whom his brother had entrusted his wife and child, sat

watching for many a weary hour, expecting every moment to see Swet

return with fire. The whole night passed away without his return. At

sunrise he went to the bank of the river which was close by, and

anxiously looked about for his brother, but in vain. Distressed beyond

measure, he sat on the river side and wept. A boat was passing by in

which a merchant was returning to his country. As the boat was not

far from the shore the merchant saw Basanta weeping; and what struck

the attention of the merchant was the heap of what looked like pearls

near the weeping man. At the request of the merchant the boatman took

his vessel towards the bank; the merchant went to the weeping man,

and found that the heap was a heap of real pearls of the finest

lustre: and what astonished him most of all was that the heap was

increasing every second, for the tear-drops that were falling from

his eyes fell to the ground not as tears but as pearls. The merchant

stowed away the heap of pearls into his boat, and with the help of his

servants caught hold of Basanta himself, put him on board the vessel,

and tied him to a post. Basanta, of course, resisted; but what could

he do against so many? Thinking of his brother, his brother's wife

and baby, and his own captivity, Basanta wept more bitterly than

before, which mightily pleased the merchant, as the more tears his

captive shed the richer he himself became. When the merchant reached

his native town he confined Basanta in a room, and at stated hours

every day scourged him in order to make him shed tears, every one of

which was converted into a bright pearl. The merchant one day said

to his servants, "As the fellow is making me rich by his weeping,

let us see what he gives me by laughing." Accordingly he began to

tickle his captive, on which Basanta laughed, and as he laughed a

great many maniks dropped from his mouth. After this poor Basanta

was alternately whipped and tickled all the day and far into the

night; and the merchant, in consequence, became the wealthiest man

in the land. Leaving Basanta subjected to the alternate processes

of castigation and titillation, let us attend to the fortunes of the

poor wife of Swet, alone in the forest, with a child just born.

Swet's wife, apparently deserted by her husband and her brother-in-law,

was overwhelmed with grief. A woman, but a few hours since delivered

of a child--and her first child, alone, and in a forest, far from the

habitations of men,--her case was indeed pitiable. She wept rivers of

tears. Excessive grief, however, brought her relief. She fell asleep

with the new-born baby in her arms. It so happened that at that

hour the Kotwal (prefect of the police) of the country was passing

that way. He had been very unfortunate with regard to his offspring;

every child his wife presented him with died shortly after birth, and

he was now going to bury the last infant on the banks of the river. As

he was going, he saw in the forest a woman sleeping with a baby in her

arms. It was a lively and beautiful boy. The Kotwal coveted the lovely

infant. He quietly took it up, put in its place his own dead child,

and returning home, told his wife that the child had not really died

and had revived. Swet's wife, unconscious of the deceit practised

upon her by the Kotwal, on waking found her child dead. The distress

of her mind may be imagined. The whole world became dark to her. She

was distracted with grief, and in her distraction she formed the

resolution of committing suicide. The river was not far from the spot,

and she determined to drown herself in it. She took in her hand the

bundle of jewels and proceeded to the river-side. An old Brahman was

at no great distance, performing his morning ablutions. He noticed

the woman going into the water, and naturally thought that she was

going to bathe; but when he saw her going far into deep waters, some

suspicion arose in his mind. Discontinuing his devotions, he bawled

out and ordered the woman to come to him. Swet's wife seeing that it

was an old man that was calling her, retraced her steps and came to

him. On being asked what she was about to do, she said that she was

going to make an end of herself, and that as she had some jewels with

her she would be obliged if he would accept them as a present. At the

request of the old Brahman she related to him her whole story. The

upshot was, that she was prevented from drowning herself, and that

she was received into the Brahman's family, where she was treated by

the Brahman's wife as her own daughter.

Years passed on. The reputed son of the Kotwal grew up a vigorous,

robust lad. As the house of the old Brahman was not far from the

Kotwal's, the Kotwal's son used accidentally to meet the handsome

strange woman who passed for the Brahman's daughter. The lad liked

the woman, and wanted to marry her. He spoke to his father about

the woman, and the father spoke to the Brahman. The Brahman's rage

knew no bounds. What! the infidel Kotwal's son aspiring to the hand

of a Brahman's daughter! A dwarf may as well aspire to catch hold of

the moon! But the Kotwal's son determined to have her by force. With

this wicked object he one day scaled the wall that encompassed the

Brahman's house, and got upon the thatched roof of the Brahman's

cow-house. While he was reconnoitering from that lofty position, he

heard the following conversation between two calves in the cow-house:--

First Calf. Men accuse us of brutish ignorance and immorality; but

in my opinion men are fifty times worse.

Second Calf. What makes you say so, brother? Have you witnessed to-day

any instance of human depravity?

First Calf. Who can be a greater monster of crime than the same lad

who is at this moment standing on the thatched roof of this hut over

our head?

Second Calf. Why, I thought it was only the son of our Kotwal; and

I never heard that he was exceptionally vicious.

First Calf. You never heard, but now you hear from me. This wicked

lad is now wishing to get married to his own mother!

The First Calf then related to the inquisitive Second Calf in full

the story of Swet and Basanta; how they and Swet's wife fled from

the vengeance of their stepmother; how Swet's wife was delivered of a

child in the forest by the river-side; how Swet was made king by the

elephant, and how he succeeded in killing the serpent which issued out

of the queen's nostrils; how Basanta was carried away by the merchant,

confined in a dungeon, and alternately flogged and tickled for pearls

and maniks; how the Kotwal exchanged his dead child for the living

one of Swet; how Swet's wife was prevented from drowning herself in

the river by the Brahman; how she was received into the Brahman's

family and treated as his daughter; how the Kotwal's son grew up a

hardy, lusty youth, and fell in love with her; and how at that very

moment he was intent on accomplishing his brutal object. All this

story the Kotwal's son heard from the thatched roof of the cow-house,

and was struck with horror. He forthwith got down from the thatch,

and went home and told his father that he must have an interview

with the king. Notwithstanding his reputed father's protestations

to the contrary, he had an interview with the king, to whom he

repeated the whole story as he had overheard it from the thatch of

the cow-house. The king now remembered his poor wife's case. She

was brought from the house of the Brahman, whom he richly rewarded,

and put her in her proper position as the queen of the kingdom;

the reputed son of the Kotwal was acknowledged as his own son, and

proclaimed the heir-apparent to the throne; Basanta was brought out

of the dungeon, and the wicked merchant who had maltreated him was

buried alive in the earth surrounded with thorns. After this, Swet,

his wife and son, and Basanta, lived together happily for many years.

Now my story endeth,

The Natiya-thorn withereth, etc.

[14] Professional match-makers.

[15] Manik, or rather manikya, is a fabulous precious stone of incredible value. It is found on the head of some species of snakes, and is equal in value to the wealth of seven kings.

[16] Venus, the Morning Star.

[17] The seat on the back of an elephant.