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THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA
LOS ANGELES
THE
FOLK-LITEKATURE OF BENGAL
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THE
Folk= Literature of Bengal
(Being Lectures delivered to the Calcutta University
in 1917, as Ramtanu Lahiri Research Fellow
in the History of Bengali Language
and Literature. )
By
Rai Saheb Dineshchandra Sen, B.A.
Fellow, Calcutta University and Author of 'History of Bengali Lan&riiaKe and
Literature,' 'Typical Selections from Old Bengali Languajce and
Literature,' 'Chaitanya and his Companions,' 'History of
Mediaeval Vaisnava Literature,' 'Banga Bhasa-o-
Sahitya,' and other works.
With a Foreword by
W. R. Gourlay, Esq., M.A., C.I.B., I.C.S.
Published by the
UNIVERSITY OF CALCUTTA
1920
Printed bt Atdlchandra Bhattacharyya at the
CALPurTA [Tniversitv Press, Senate House, CIvlcdtta.
To S^^J^
THE HON'BLE SIR ASUTOSH MOOKERJEE.
Kt., C.S.I., M.A.. D U D.Sc. Ph.D.
these pages are dedicated
as an humble token of
the Author's deep sense of gratitude
for
the epoch-making step he has taken
by Initiating and organising the new department of
Indian Vernaculars In our University,
a movement that Is fraught with vast possibilities
for the development of Indian National Life,
based on a clear consciousness of
India's distinctive greatness
and homogeneous cultural progress.
rOllEWOUD
There are few [)eoj)le who have not beeu
suhjeoted to the command, " Tell me a story,"
and those who, on such occasions, find pleasure
in tryin<»' to make children happy, rack their
brains to find somothinii: new to tell. They
desire that their story should contain nothing
hut thoughts full of good- will and encourage-
ment to follow good examples. In the telling
of the story it is natural to picture the details
of the scene according to the story-teller's own
experience. Such is the incentive from Avhich
the folk-tale is born.
To those of us Avho come from the West, it
comes as a pleasing surprise to find in the folk-
tales of India scenes and incidents which are
familiar to us from our early reading of Grimm's
Fairy Tales and Hans Anderson's Fairy Tales.
This similarity early attracted the attention of
scholars and there have l)een controversies as to
the original sources of tales common to East and
West : Sir AVilliam Jones and the early Sanskrit
scholars wlio worked with him, found two collec-
tions of these tales so complete as to leave no
further doubt that the origin was, as had been
surmised, in the Fast. This discovery made it
till FOREWORD
cloar that those talcs, Avith which we are all so
familiar, had their origin not later than the early
days of the Christian era : and there Avere many
who saw in the incidents and the teaching of
the tales the influence of the life and teaching
of the Lord Buddha and his disciples. For long
it was supposed, therefore, that the tales liad had
their origin in the ancient kingdom of Magadha
and that they might have heen composed hy the
followers of the Lord Buddha himself. More
recently, however, the Jatak? collection of the
Buddhist stories was discovered and amongst the
carvings on the railings round the Bharhut
stupa — scenes from these stories were recognised.
As the carving dates from 250 to 200 B.C., the
origin of the tales is now believed to be not later
than the time when Buddha lived about the 5th
century, B.C., and it is recognised that the
features which seemed to prove a Buddhist
origin are really alterations made to suit the
Buddhist doctrine. It is nol likely that materials
will come to light to enable us to trace the
origin still further back, but who can say when
these tales were first conceived r
The attempts to trace the source of the tales
have brought to light hidden knowledge. The
history of the Indian people in these ancient
days is but imperfectly known, but the tales
are a mirror of the customs and the thoughts of
the people and, as such, are of far greater value
FOREWORD IX
to US than the dates and the names of a few
individuals — the dry bones of history. It needs
but a glance at the pictures of the Bharhut
carvings in the book of Jataka stories edited by
Erancis and Thomas to enable us to picture
the life of the people in those times — and from
these little carvings, we can create a mental
picture of the incidents in the other tales ; and
the picture is so very like the scenes we see
every day. Human nature changes little, and
the primitive emotions are depicted on men's
faces now as they were then. In India there
has been little change in the environment of
village life for thousands of years and often
little change in the fashion of the simple dress
of the villager. In the West, on the other
hand, the environment of to-day is so different
from that of ages gone by that our pictures of
folk tales have often grotesque appearance
almost entirely absent in India. The monkey,
the elephant, the lighting ram of the Bharhut
carvings have in no way changed, and their
environment is the same.
In these lectures, Mr. Dineshchandra Sen
gives us an interesting account of the history
of some of these fables and he puts forward a
fascinating suggestion that possibly the tales of
the Middle Kingdom were carried by means of
the ships which sailed from the coasts of Bengal
to the ports of the Persian Gulf and that thus
X FOREWORD
they travelled, with those who transported the
merchandise, to far away ports of Europe — long
hefore any translations of the Panchatantra or
Hitopadesa or translations like our fables of
Pilpai were known.
In the following lectures, our attention is
directed in particular to Bengal, and the examples
given afford a delightful picture of village life
in that Province. When I read in the first
lecture the author's enthusiastic appreciation of
Bengal folk tales, the thought crossed my mind
that possibly the Rai Sahib's patriotism had
affected his judgment : but after 1 had read the
translation of the beautiful story of Malancha-
mala, I went back to the first lecture and I
knew that what he said was true.
Everyone who reads this Bengali folk-tale
will endorse what he says. It is a tale of which
a nation might well be proud : it has all the
attributes of a beautiful lyric : it contains a con-
ception of purity and love which evince a high
state of civilization. The rural scenes are full
of the joy of life. One cannot but feel the fresh
air of the morning when the King rides out to
the mango grove : one shudders at the scene
round the funeral pyre : the forest is gloomy in
the darkness but fresh and smiling in the sun-
shine. Nothing could be more simple or charm-
ing than the account of the life in the cottage
FOREWORD XI
of the flower woman : I have never read any-
thing which lead me to such an understanding
of the sublimity of the conception of the ideal
Hindu wife, as I have obtained from the readin^j
of the story of IMalanchamala. The interest
never flags. No one who begins the story can
rest till he has reached the end. The teaching
too is sublime.
I hope Rai Sahib Dineshchandra Sen will be
able to do a further service to literature by
making a collection of Bengali folk tales. Such
a collection would help the people of the West
to get nearer to the people of Bengal. There
are so many barriers. Good will is often present,
but good will must be supported by knowledge.
It is easy to obtain some knowledge by studying
the history and the literature of the country and
by reading novels such as those of Bankim
Chandra, but here b a door that has been little
more than pushed ajar by Lalbihari De, and
from the evidence we have in these lectures, I
feel sure the author could open it for us. Our
childhood is spent under very different conditions
of environment. When we read tales such as
Malanchamala it brings us much nearer to
understanding, and if we could only learn to
know each other's childhood, there would
be less anxiety regarding our understanding
later on,
Xll FOREWORD
I am grateful to the author for having asked
me to write this introduction. I hope it may
have the effect of bringing the lectures to the
notice of some who might not otherwise have
been led to a knowledge of the Polk Tales of
Bengal.
W. R. GOURLAY.
The 18th January, 1920.
PREFACE
My first coarso of lectures as Ramtanu Lahiri
Research Fellow of the Calcutta Tniversity in
the history of Bengali Language and Literature,
delivered in 1914, was puhlished under the title
of Ohaitanya and his Compamons in 1917. The
present volume contains my Fellowship lectures
delivered in 1917. From 1914 to 1919, I
delivered six courses of such lectures; each
course, complete in 12 lectures, forms a volume
of the size of this book. As most of these
lectures have not yet been published and as
there is no certainty about the time of their
publication, I owe it to the public to refresh
their memory about what they heard long ago,
by mentioning the subjects treated in them.
1. Chaitanya and his Companions, delivered
in 1914.
2. The second course of my lectures deli-
vered in 1915 treats of the following subjects :
{a) Glimpses of Bengal History from old
Bengali Literature.
(&) Songs and Ballads of the Buddhistic
period.
{c) Chandidasa.
{d) Desertion of Nadia by Chaitanya.
(<?) Humour in old Bengali poetry.
XIV PEEIACE
3. The Bengali Ramayanas. In these lec-
tures, delivered in 1916, I tried to prove that
some of the legends and stories about Rama,
Ravana, and Hanumana, now found incorporated
in the various versions of the Bengali Ramayanas
by different authors, are of a prehistoric origin,
probably anterior to Valmlki's epic. It is evi-
dent that these Bengali authors did not
follow too closely the foot-steps of Valmiki, but
introduced indigenous elements in them not
contained in the Sanskrit epic.
4. The Folk Literature of Bengal — delivered
in 1917.
5. The forces that developed our early
literature — delivered in 1918.
6. Chaitanya and his Age — 1919.
I have to offer a word of explanation for
the publication of my fourth course of lectures
delivered in 1917 before the preceding courses
of such lectures, delivered in 1915 and in 1916
respectively, have seen the light. An active
research is going on in the field of old Bengali
Literature and new materials are being made
available to us every year. The history of our
language and literature no longer presents a
fossilized form, but by the powerful impetus
given to it by Sir Asutosh Mookerjee, it is
fast invading "fresh fields and pastures new''
and changing shapes. Some portions of my
previous lectures have had to be revised and
PREFACE XV
re-written in the light of the latest discoveries.
Hence those lectures that are found ready at the
moment are made over to the press while others
have to he held up.
In the present treatise I have for the fir^
time hrought to th-'- notice of scholars consider-
able materials about Bengali folk- tales chiefly
those current amongst the Mahomedans of the
lower Gangetic valley. It has been a surprise
to us to find that stories of Rupamala, Kanchan-
mala, Madhumala, i'ushpamala, etc., are not only
the heritage of Hindu children but also of
their Moslem cousins who have been listening to
these nursery and fairy tales, recited to them by
their grand-mothers, from a very remote
historical period which I have tried to prove to
be much anterior to the Islamic conquest. The
Hindu and Buddhistic converts who gave up
their faith in the older religions did not forego
their attachment to these folk-tales in which
legends of Buddhist and Hindu gods are some-
times closely intermixed. The incantation and
mantras used by Moslem Fakirs and physicians
for curing diseases and the hymns of Lakshmi —
the harvest-goddess — recited by a class of
Mahomedan mendicants — are full of references to
gods of the Hindu and Buddhistic pantheons, and
I have tried to trace the continuity of this
folklore and folk-wisdom current amongst
Mahomedans, from a remote time when they had
XVI PREFACE
not yet accepted Islam but had been Buddhists
or Hindus.
These lectures on the Folk Literature of
Bengal are by no means exhaustive. I have
not touched the pastoral poetry and boatmen's
songs with which the whole air of rural Bengal
is still resonant — not her cities and towns, but her
backward villages, still lovely with the dark-
blue foliage of mango-groves and rich in her
summer bloom, wher^ the fierce rays of materi-
alistic civilization have not yet entered to dispel
the charm of rural poetry. These songs and
pastoral poetry open a vista showing the
perspective of ages long gone by. If I find an
opportunity I will deal with this fascinating
subject in a future course of lectures.
A further enquiry on the lines of these lec-
tures made by me has brought to light several
very important facts in regard to the Bengali
folk tales. There is a mere hint in this work
that some of our old folk stories are interspersed
with bits of poetical lines rendered into prose,
which have been evidently current amongst our
woman-folk from a remote antiquity. I have
proved in another course of my lectures that
some of the old stories are so fully replete
with these poetical bits, cleverly strung
together and put in the midst of a prose style,
that the work of the goddess of Parnessus lies,
as it were, hidden from our view, until the
PREFACE XVli
scrutiiiisiiij^' eye of a scholar detects them. The
language of these half -verses is generally very
ancient and reminds one of the discovery made
by Dr. E. ^V. Hopkins of the existence of Yedic
hymnology in the great epic of the INrahahhfirata.
I can scarcely suppress a feeling of joy
that inspires me in my research work at the
present moment. Hitherto I had felt myself
aloiie in tlie task of writing the annals of
the Bengali language and literature, though
I do not imply ]jy this any lack of regard
for the work ot some of my colleagues in the
field who have in the midst of their multi-
farious and scholarly tasks, made important
contributions to it from time to time. But
a whole-hearted devotion to this cause was
wanting in the young generation of Bengalees,
and to-day this longfelt want seems to be
removed Iw the daily growing number of those
who are Avishing to take up Beugali as a
subject for the M.A. Examination and by the
enthusiasm displayed by these earnest students
in the cause of their hitherto neglected literature.
They appear to me to be the heralds ol' a new
age, that will, let us confidently hope, ere long
dawn on us. In the march towards this goal
our confidence is accentuated by the fact that
the man at the helm has a never-failing steady
foresight and sees the vision of our futui'o
glory, as no one else in the country has the
XYlll PEEFACE-
power to see. The boat is lauiiclied and the
pilot will steer it on to the sliore of the ideal
land, let us hope.
I take this opportunity to thank Mr. W. 11.
Gourlav, M.A., C.I.E., I.C.S., Private Secretary
to H E. the Governor of Bengal, for writing the
Foreword. Hr. Goiirlay has been in Bengal
for more than 20 years and is Avell known as a
diligent student of the life and civilisation of
oar people. In his address delivered at a
meeting of the Indian section of the lloyal
Society of Arts held in London on the Gth of
March, 1919, he indicated the various stages of
our national history and suggested a practical
scheme of an up-to-date comprehensive history
of Bengal with a scholarship and breadth of
outlook that evoked the admiration of such
eminent men as Sir S. Bayley, Mr. C. E. Buck-
land, Mr. Skrine and Lord Carmichael. The
appreciation of the story of !Malaiichamala as
contained in his Eoreworcl, though he had at
first hesitated to accept my views expressed in
pp. 44-47 will give to the reader a glimpse of the
characteristic sympathy and genuine goodness
of the heart with which he has always tried to
understand India and her people.
I have to thank Dr. G. Howells, Dr. H.
Stephen and Dr. H. C. Mookerjee for revising
some of the proofs of tjiis book. Mr. A. C.
Ghatak, Superintendent o[ the University
ITvFirACE XIX
Press, Jias also helped ma in such matters —
hut I ani sorry to sav that there are still
inaiiY printing mistakes in the hook. This
has heen iiievitahle hecaiise I am not a u'ood
proof-reader myself and I could not make
satisfactory arraniiement for i^'etliu"' this yery
tiresome work dojie from the hefirinninj? to
the end.
Betiala, '^
Neae Calcu'ita ; > DiNESH Chandiia Sen.
The 2Ut Jm?u<inj, 1920. )
Contents
CHAPTEli 1
The strikiiii:? coincidences between some of
tlie Bengali and European folk-tales, pp. 1-51.
The early origin of folk-tales and tlie moral
lessons they convey, pp. 1-3 ; the Greek legends
as folk-tales, ])p. 2-3 ; Europe indebted to
India for its medieval literature of fairy
tales and f aides, pp. 8-.") ; how did the unwritten
folk-tales of Bengal travel to Europe, pp. 5-7 :
the story ^ of faithful John and of Eakir
Chand, pp. 8-14; it holds up the Hindu idea
of Sakhya and seems to be a Bengali tale, p. li ;
Queen Mainamati's pursuit of the Goda Yama,
p. 15; Carid wen's pursuit of Gwin Bach, p. 15;
the sons of l^rtrenn piu'sued by the princess of
Hesperides, p. 10 ; Bliasma Lochana, the Indian
Balor, p. 17 ; ^rivatsa and Chintci, pp. 17-18 ; the
story of Chandrahasa and that of "the giant with
three hairs," pp. 20-22 ; the story of " Hans in
luck" and that of the trading fox, p. 15 ; the
heart of a bird that yielded diamonds to its eater,
p. 21 ; the story of tlie sluggards, pp. 25-27 ;
prophecies of birds, p. 28 ; sorcery among women,
pp. 28-29 ; " The Rose-bud " and other stories
giving accounts of sleeping cities, pp. 29-30;
XX 11 CONTENTS
Rumpel-stilts Kin. and "Tjlpcii tlie <i;])ost," pp.
ol-*35; tb(^ stories of 8iikhii-Diildm and JMotlier
Holle, pp, 85-3U ; I'ora thumb and '' Doi'-rmgule, "
p. -10; Jack the g'iani killer and the wreslter
22 men stronp^, p]). 40 ; Eastern India i^ives her
folk-tales to the world, 48-45, the Gita-katlifis
p. 41-47 ; Masradha and Gaur, the seats of some of
the early Indian folk-tales, p. 48: Bengal in the
early European folk-legends, p. 49 ; the special
features of the xlrabic and Persian folk-tales as
contrasted with tliose of Indian, p. 51.
CHAPTER TI
Internal evidences in the early Bengali folk-
tales proving their origin before the Hindu
Benaissance, pp. 52-80.
Storytelling — a time-honoured profession of a
class of Indians specially of women, pp. 52-54;
tlie early folk-tales are different from Pauranic
stories, pp. 54-56 ; 12 Yedas and 8 Piiranas, p. 56 ;
the Pauranic metaphors, pp. 56-5S ;Uhe folk-tales
give no catalogue of ornaments, nor any stereo-
typed accounts of beautiful women, pp. 58-59 ;
notions about gods,) p. 60; the Brahmin no im-
portant figure in the folk-tales, p. 61 ; the
prohibition of sea-voyage, p. 62 ; the position of
merchants in society before the llenaissance,
p. 63 ; merchants lose their high position, p. 64 ;
the ships^ their picturesque construction and
coNTENl's xxiii
names, p. 65 ; the names ol* characters in
folk-tales indicate the marchantile rather than
l^rahminic ideal, pp. 66-G9 ; grandeur and
^vealth, p. 09 ; none but the brave deserves the
fair, p. 70 ; articles of luxury and of daily use,
pp. 71-72 ; natal room, p. 73 ; on the eve of a
sea-voyage, p. 71 ; the merchants cease to be
honest, p. 75 ; the position of a barber in society,
p. 76 ; tlie folk-tales mostly composed by
women, p. 77-78 ; Storytelling an avocation
of livelihood, how it was practised, pp. 78-80.
CHAPTER III
Currency of older forms' of belief amongst
the converts to Islam in the folk-literature,
pp. 81-97.
The "nedas" and the " nedis," pp. 81-82;
the folk-literatures of the Hindus and
Buddhists before the licnaissance very much
alike, pp. 82-81; Hindu ideas in the society of
Muhammadan converts, p. 81 ; hymns in praise
of the Harvest goddess, p. 85 ; the incantations
for curing snake-bites, pp. 87-90 ; the antiquated
language, p. 89 ; historical side-lights, pp. 90-92 ;
Jarasura, the demoniac god of fever, pp. 92-93 ;
recapitulation of various points at issue,
pp. 93-9r. ; Hindu folk-tales amongst Muham-
madans, pp. 95-97.
CHxVl^TER IV
Muhammadan folk-tales in Bengal, pp.
98-11-5.
The three main divisions, p. 98 ; Class I,
' Satya Pir,' pp. 99-113 ; Wazed Ali's story of
Satya Pir, p. 103 ; Siindara in charge of Sumati
and Kumati — they try to plan his assassination —
restored to life by Satya Pir— assassination a
second time— Siindara goes to Kanur by means
of the magic tree — Snndara returns home —
transformed into a bird — the princess comes to
Chandan Nagar — return of the elder brother —
Sundara gets back his human shape — the joy of
union — the punishment, pp. 108-113 ; ManikPir,
Pizuruddin's version, p. 113; Dhuda Bibi's pride
and misfortunes — detiaut attitude and the punish-
ment— Manik sold to a merchant — a mean sus-
picion and Manik thrown into fire — rescued by
Gebrial and turns a Fakir— Ban jana's punish-
ment and eventual restoration to good fortunes
bv the 2;race of the Pir — the Ghosh familv — the
mother does an Avicked act — Kami stung by a
cobra — restored to life — they lose and regain their
fortunes, pp. 113-122 ; historical side totally
obscured by legends, p. 123. Class II — Pioneers
of Islamite faith, p. 123 ; the story of Mallika,
p. 124 ; Hanif goes on an expedition against
Baja Varuna — the princess not only handsome
but possessed of great physical strength — how
CONTENTS V
the suitors are truated — TTnihar in the oourt of
liaja Variina — Hanif's letter to Raja A^aruua —
preparations to meet the foe — the three days' A\'ar
and fliglit — princess ]\rallika goes to fight — the
duel— in the embrace of a Turk — the Raja turns
a convert to Islam, pp. 124-134 ; Other stories il-
lustrating the chivalrous spirit of Hanif, p. 135 ;
Historical ballads, p. 185 ; Chaudhuri's Ladai, p,
136 ; The song of Samsher Gazi, p. 136 — Piru
driven by poverty — how Nasir's father gets his
taluq — the Gazi and Sadi's wonderful physical
strength — they hold the robber-gangs in check
and become their head — the disastrous proposal
of marriage — the Gazi settles at Perg Kachua —
the appeal to Tipperah Raja — fight with the
Raja's army — the Uzir made a captive — Nasir's
landed estates leased out to the Gazi — declares
war against the Raja of Tipperah — the Gazi
worships Kali and gains the battle — his adminis-
trative reforms — assassination of Sadi — the
barber-brothers — to Chittagong — conspiracies
against the Gazi — the Gazi's visit to Mursidabad
and assassination, pp. 137-151 ; Rajkumara and
Kishore Mahalanavis, p, 151 ; the scope of the
rural ballads, p. 152. Class III : The folk-tales,
pp. 152 ; what the Hindu priests gave to
the people in the place of folk-tales, p. 153 ;
the Muhammadans have preserved the older
popular tales amongst them, p. 155 ; a list of
some of these tales, p. 156 ; transmitted from a
VI CONTENTS
time earlier than their conversion and the Hindu
Renaissance, p. 156 ; the reference to Hindu
gods and goddesses, p. 157; a Hindu spirit
permeates these stories, p 161; a deterioration of
the lofty Hindu ideal, pp. 162-165 ; Cita-Vasanta
as told by Golam Kader, }>. 165 ; the queen's
presentiments; her death and the king takes
another wife ; the brothers taken to the exeeution-
ground; their escape; the eating of the liearts of
the magic birds; Cita is elected a king; Yasanta
loses his power; led to the execution-ground; is
saved; marries a princess and is thrown into the
sea; Vasanta holds a priestly office; the merchant
beheaded and a happy end for otliers, pp. 165-173.
Harinatli Mazumdar's version, p. 173. Cringi
hears from his father the story of the Gandharva
king ; the stepmother's machinations; banished
from the capital and great sufferings; the elder
])rother installed as a king; the end, pp. } 73-178.
Lai Behary He's version, p. 178; the brothers fly
away from the capital ; Sveta is installed as a
king; Sveta's wife gives birth to a child, who is
kidnapped; the re-union, pp. 178-182. Hakshina-
ranjan's version; the stepmother's witchcraft and
order of execution of the brothers; the escape ;
Cita made a king; Rupavati's condition; A^asanta
secures the rare pearl ; the transformation of the
step-brothers into fishes ; the re-union ; the Duo
Rani restored to her own form, pp. 182-159. The
language of the Muhammaedan version and that
CONTENTS Vll
ot'Harinath, p. 189. The Paumnika elements intro-
duced into the latter ; the up-to-date questions,
specimen of language, pp. 189-193 ; Lai Beliary
De's story, p. 198. The superiority of Dakshina-
ranjan's version, p. 195. The story of Sakhi-
sona, p. 195; Muhammad Korvanali's version; the
Svad carries home a cohra to kill his wife; the
cohra turns into gold coins; the strange baby in the
earthen pot; Manik and Sakhisona in love with
one another ; they leave the city ; in the hands of
the dacoits; Manik kills six and is killed by the
seventh; Manik restored to life and transformed
into a monkey ; Sakhisona kills a serpent and
marries the princess ; Manik restored to his own
form; Manik marries the new princess and is happj-
with two wives, pp. 195-202. Fakir Rama's
version, p. 202; Kumara and Sakhisona in school;
the inviolable promise; the princess' lament;
they leave the palace ; the advent of the spring ;
the cyclone; in the cottage of robbers; Kumara
killed and restored to life; Kumara transformed
into a goat; the re-union, pp. 202-208. Dakshina-
ranjan's version, p. 20S; Chandan and Sakhisonil
in school; they leave the palace ; in the cottage
of rob])ers ; kills six and is killed by the
seventli; restored to life; kills the cobra;
a happy end, pp. 208-218. The deterioration
of the original ideal of chastity in the
Muhammadan version, pp. 220-223. Fakir
Rama introduces classical elements, pp. 223-225;
Vlll CONTENTS
the excellence and genuineness of Dakshina-
ranjan's rersion ; brevity and want of repeti-
tion ; onomatopoetic words ; their beauty and
pointedness, pp. 225-232.
CHAPTER V.
Four kinds of folk-tales, pp. 232-344.
The Rupakathas, pp. 232-230; the wrestler 22-
men-strong and the Avrestler 23-nien-strong, pp.
235-238; humorous tales, p. 210; Havuchandra
and Gabuchandra, pp. 2^^0-243; the fox in charge
of the tortoise's young ones, pp. 213-2J^6; the
Yrata Kathas, p. 2i6; the language of hymns, pp.
247-248; the indigenous forms of worship among
non-Aryans, p. 248. The deities admitted to the
Aryan pantheon, p. 248. Maritime activities, p.
249; agricultural elements, p. 251; the hopes and
prayers of Bengali girls, pp. 252-254. The legend
of the Sun-god, pp. 254-201. The Gita Kathas,
p. 261 ; the first edition of Thakur Dada's Jhuli,
pp. 164-166. Dakshinaranjan compared with other
compilers of Bengali folk-tales, pp. 265-266 ; the
story of Malanchamakij p. 267 ; the king gets a son ;
the writings on the forehead of the baby; the baby
to die on the 12th day; to be married to a girl of
12 ; Malancha's condition; the baby dies and
Malancha's punishments. In the funeral pyre ;
the dead baby revives and Malancha's eyes
and limbs restored, the nourishing ; in quest
CON'JENTS IX
of milk; of a tutor; in the flower-woman's cot;
the discovery by the princes; impossible conditions
for Chaudramanik ; winner of the race ; marries
the princess and is imprisoned; Malancha resolved
on drowning herself; the king of Chandrapur
made a captive ; Malancha breaks all her teeth in
breaking the chain; the havoc made by the tigers;
the Kotawal's daughter out of question ; the un-
flinching devotion ; in the nuptial room ; turned
out; father-in-law speaks kindly for the first time ;
preparations for reception; mends everything
that went wrong; the garlanding and making the
co-wife chief queen, pp. 267-322. Malancha's
character analysed, p. 322 ; she cares not
for the body, p. 325; the trial, p. 827 ; what one
wishes one gets, p. 328 ; wife as mother, p. 329;
the Buddhist ideas, p. 330 ; why she prizes her
father-in-law's home, p. 331 ; self -dedication
natural to her, p. 331 ; she wants no reciprocation,
p. 332 ; she does not resist evil, p. 333 ; does her
duty without caring for the result, p. 333 ; she
speaks but little, p. 33Ji ; prefers a woodland to a
palace, p. 335; the poetic situations, p. 337; the
wicked are not punished but reformed, p. 338 ;
" the chief queen " and " the goddess," p. 338 ;
the plot, p. 339; Eolktales different from
Pauranika stories, p. 341 ; the way of reckoning
time, p. 312; condemnation of wicked deeds,
p. 343 ; romance, p. 3M.
Folk Literature of Bengal
CHAPTER I
striking- coincidences between some of the
Bengali and European Folk-tales
We need not enter into the vexed question
of the origin of folk-tales. We may imagine
that long before the introduction of the art of
printing, primitive peoples sat by their blazing
hearths in wintry nights at the close of their
day's labour, reciting nursery tales to their
children. The song^s and tales became trans-
mitted from generation to generation, and long
after a nation had scaled the height of civili-
zation, this invaluable heritage of their primitive
stage, recording the earliest conditions of their
. . , social life, still supplied foun-
The early origin of ^ ^
folk-tales and the talus of plcasurc and sorrow to
moral lessons they
convey. children, and taught them moral
lessons — of virtue predominating over vice in the
long run. For, every story, however crude its
form, has an object-lesson to teach to the
2 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL.
young. In it " justice ahvavs prevails, active
talent is everywhere nuccessful, the amiable
and generous qualities are brought forward to
excite the sympathies of the reader, and in the
end are constantly rewarded by triumph over
lawless power ".^
The early European tales are full of adven-
turous spirit, of tights of legendary heroes with
dragons and monsters for the acquisition of rare
prizes. The tale of Perseus who
The Greek legends ^
as folk-tales. Carried the head of the Gorgon
Medusa in a magic wallet, — of Herakles who
secured the golden apples from the garden of
Hesperides and made his escape from the giant
Atlas with the prize, — of Bellcrophon who killed
the Chimaira with the help of the serial steed
Pegasos, — of the encounter of Theseus with
the Minotaur, and of the former killing the
dragon with the help of Ariadne, — of Jason who
fought with and killed the terrible dragon that
guarded the Golden Eleece, with the council
of Medeia, the enchantress, — these and other
Greek legends, full of enterprize, physical
daring and valour, were the fables that European
children were accustomed to hear from their
grandsires when civilization dawned on the
West. These are typical stories of early Europe
and have scarcely any oriental flavour in them.
* Grimms' Popular Stories. Oxford University Presp, 1909,
Preface, p. X.
EUROPE S INDEBTEDNESS TO INDIA. 6
But even in these early Greek tales, we occasion-
ally come across one or two which savour of an
exotic orif^in. The story of the miraculous
milk-pitclier, which had the marvellous quality
of being never empty, ohtained by Philemen and
his wife Baukis is so like some of the Indian
stories, that we may not be very wrong in finding
a faint trace of Eastern origin in the fable. The
story of Kirke, the enchantress, who could trans-
form" princes to animals by her sorcery, has many
a parallel in our Indian, notably Bengali, fables.
In many of the stories prevalent in different
countries of Europe, we find animals supporting
the leading characters. Western
Europe indebted to i i i? • • i.i i.
India for its Medio, scholai's are ot opmioii that
Sry tliieTaZ faHe^' th^se ", strongly bear the
impress of a remote Eastern
original "/ There is no doubt that many of the
nursery tales travelled from their eastern homes
to Europe in the middle ages. We know for
certain that the Indian fables in the Pancha-
tantra and in the Hitopodeca made a triumphant
march to the West and ''exercised very great
influence in shaping the literature of the Middle
ages of Europe " r Europe imported these fables
into her shores chiefly through their Arabic
translations. Many of the stories are now as
' Grimms' Popular Stories, Oxford University Press, 1909,
Preface j.. X.
- Macdonell's History of Sanskrit Literature, Ed. 1899, p. 421.
4 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL.
familiar in European countries as they have been
in India. Among a considerably large number of
these we may mention here the story of the milk-
maid " who while carrying a pail of milk on her
head to the market, and building all kinds of
castles in the air with the future proceeds of the
sale of the milk, gives a jump of joy at the
prospect of her approaching fortune and thereby
shatters the pail to pieces on the ground." This
story, first related in the Panchatantra, was made
familiar in Europe by La Fontaine in his charm-
ing book of fables in 1678 A.D. The Persian
writers copied it with slight alteration in the
storv of Youns; Alanaschar's dreams. Another
familiar story in the Panchatantra is that of the
avaricious jackal, whose calculations and too
economic wisdom ended in his tragical death by
the bow of the hunter starting asunder and
piercing his head. The well known line ^'S^^j
W^ *t» has now passed into a common saying in
this country. La Fontaine popularised this
story in Europe. Dr. Macdonell in his History
of Sanskrit Literature tells us "Euroj)e was
thus undoubtedly indebted to India for its
Mediaeval literature of fairy tales and fables".^
The Persians and the Arabs are also indebted
to India for acquiring the art of story-telling.
We quote the same authority on this point.-
1 Ed. 1899, p. 420.
' „ „ p. 369.
BENGALI FOLK TALES IN EUllOPE. 5
" The style of narration was borrowed from
India by the neighbouring oriental peoples of
Persia and Arabia, who employed it in composing
independent w^orks. The most notable instance
is, of course, the Arabian Nights." That some
of the stories of the Arabian Nights were taken
from Indian tales will be mentioned later on.
But how could the folk-tales of Bengal current
amongst her peasant folk and her women break
through the mud-walls of the rustic liomes and
the seclusion of the female apartments to find an
audience in the world outside ? The Jataka
stories, the Panchatantra, the Hitopade9a and
even the Kathasaritsagara certainly obtained a
world-wide celebrity in the past. Most of these
were written in courts by royal order and com-
manded circulation all over the world by
authoritative translations into foreiern lansruasres.
But the folk-tales of Beuj^al,
How did the unwritten ^ '='
folk-tales of Bengal toM by villagc-women and
travel to Europe ?
mostly composed by them, in
the quiet environment of shady mangoe-groves
amidst which stood their straw-roofed mud-huts,
— like the coy Malati flowers that bloomed in the
evening there — did not venture to peep out and
show themselves to strangers. What conveyances
could carry these our family-treasures to Europe
in the remote past ? These stories passed from
mouth to mouth and Avere never written in
Bengal itself, till the middle of the 16th century,
6 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL.
when only one of tliem is known to us to have
been recast and written out in a verse form by
Fakir Ram Kavibhushana. The rest, so far as we
know, were never written till only recent times.
HoAv could these travel to Europe ? How could
the whispers of our own woodlands be heard on
the shores of the Baltic, of the Mediterranian
and the English Channel ? This could only be
possible by the huml)ler classes of Indian people
coming in contact with European men. No
printing press could give publicity to what was
never written and was chiefly confined within
the four walls of the Zenana. We have it on
the authority of Eirdausi, that 8ankhal, the
king of Kanauj " sent 10,000 men and female
Luris recruited from different parts of Northern
India, who could play upon the lute" to the
Persian king Behram Gor in 420 A.D. at his
request. Tliese Luris travelled to Europe and
settled in various parts of it and became known
as Gypsies. Their language bears a close affinity
to Hindi and other Aryan dialects of India.
And the latest of these Gypsy settlements took
place in Hungary in 1470 A.D. It may be that
these peoj^le brought their folk-tales to Europe.
Or who knows but that the hulls and ships which
landed the cotton fabrics known as the Dacca
Muslin on the European shores also landed
our folk-stories there ! The Arab merchants
conveyed much of oriental, notably Indian,
STORY OF FAITHFUL JOHN, 7
wisdom to European countries. The connection
between Europe and Asia by means of trade
has be(;n one of hoary antiquity. Gujarat,
Bengal and the picturesque shores of South
Orissa had a considerable number of ports that
sent their sliips all over the world and were
famous for their maritime activities in ancient
times. It may not be wrong to suppose that our
nursery tales travelled to other countries in
boatmen's songs and in their half-broken
narrations to foreign peoples whose dialects they
could have but imperfectly acquired. Thus it will
be seen that though the European versions of
some these imported tales bear an undoubted
stamp of Indian — probably Bengali oiigin, the
details are worked out in different methods,
proving that the outlines of our stories, rather
than their finer shades, were gathered from
imperfect verbal narrations of story'tellers not
thoroughly acquainted with the speeches of
the people before whom they were narrated.
Some of the European scholars have proved that
a close communication between the European
and Asiatic races was established during the
days of the Crusade when the folk-tales and
the legends of the one country passed to the
other.
We will now show by illustrations that some
of the folk-tales that are even now narrated in
the lower Gangetie valley have their exact
8 FOLK LITERATURE OP BENGAL.
counter-parts in those which delight the young
in European countries. The story of " Eaithful
John" collected hy the Brothers Grimm^ is one
such for instance. The Rev. Lai Behary Dey calls
this the story of 'Fakirchand.' But the story has
got other names also. It was known to us in our
younger days as the story of the Princess Rupa-
mala. We need not however trouble ourselves
with the name which is a very trivial point. The
chief actors in these stories were three birds who
had the power to see into the future and whose
sayings were always of a prophetic nature. Let
us now show the leading points of similarity
between the European and the Bengali versions.
Edithful John attended his new King, to whom
he was devotedly attached on his journey back
to his capital. John was seated on the prow of
the ship, and was playing on his flute.
The king and his consort were very happy at
the time. John saw three
The storj of Faithful
johnandofFakirohand ravcus flying iu the air towards
him. Then he left off playing
and listened to Avhat they said to each other, for
he understood their tongue. The first said
" There he (the new king) goes ; he surely has
her, for she is sitting by his side in the ship."
Then the first began again, and cried out "what
boots it him ? See you not that when they
^ Grimms' Popular Stories, Oxford University Press, Ed. 1909,
p. 194.
STORY OF FAITHFUL JOHN. &
come to land, a horse of a fox-red colour will
spring towards him ; and then he will try to get
upon it and if he does, it will spring away with
him into the air. so that he will never see his
love again." " True ! true !" said the second,
" but is there no help ?" " Oh yes, yes," said the
first, "if he who sits upon the horse takes the
dasro'er which is stuck in the saddle and strikes him
dead, the king is saved, but who knows that,
and who will tell him, that he who thus saves
the king's life will turn to stone from the toes of.
his feet to his knee." Then the second said :
"True ! true ! but I know more still, though the
horse be dead, the king loses his bride ; when
they go together into the palace, there lies the
bridal dress on the couch, and looks as if it were
woven of gold and silver but it is all brimstone
and pitch ; and he puts it on, it will burn him
marrow and bones." "Alas ! Alas I is there no
help ?" said the third. "Oh yes, yes," said the
second, "if someone draws near and throws it
into the fire, the young king will be saved. But
what boots that ? who knows and will tell him,
that, if he does, his body from the knee to the
heart will be turned into stone ?" "More ! more !
I know more," said the third, "were the dress
burnt still the king loses his bride. After the
wedding, when the dance begins and the young
queen dances on, she will turn pale, and fall as
though she were dead, and if someone does not
2
10 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL.
draw near and lift her u]) and take from her
right breast three drops of blood, she will surely
die. But if anyone knew this, he would tell
him, that if he does do so, his body will turn to
stone, from the crown of his head to the tip of
his toe." Then the ravens flew away. Faithful
John did fulfil all the conditions to save the
young king and his consort from their impending
perils, and then turned to a stone image. For he
was obliged to state the reasons for his conduct
which had appeared highly offensive, though he
had to do so at the sacrifice of his life. The only
condition on the fulfilment of which John could
be brought back to life was that the king should
cut off the head of his baby as soon as it was
born, and sprinkle its blood over John's image.
Though it was the severest trial for the
parents to undergo, the king and the queen
did it for the sake of faithful John. The
sequel of the story is that John was restored to
life and the baby also revived by the will of
Providence.
In the old story from Bengal, the minister's
son plays the part of faithful John. The young
prince with his fair bride is on his way back
home. It is night and the married couple sleep
under a tree finding no human habitation near.
The minister's son keeps Avatch in order to
prevent any danger. He overhears the follow-
ing conversation between Bihangama and
THE STORY OF FAKIR CHANl). 11
Biliangami, two prophetic birds perched on a
bough of that tree/
Bihangama (the male bird) — The minister's
son will find it difficult to save the prince
at last.
Bihangami fthe female bird). — Why so ?
Bihangama — Many dangers await the king's
son ; the prince's father, when he hears of the
approach of his son, Avill send for him an
elephant, some horses and attendants. When
the king's son rides on the elephant, he will fall
down and die.
Bihangaml. — But suppose some one prevents
the king's son from riding on the elephant and
makes him ride on horse-back, will he not in
that case be saved ?
Bihangama. — Yes, he will in that case escape
that particular danger, but a fresh danger awaits
him. When the king's son is in sight of his
father's palace, and when he is in the act of
passing through its lion-gate, the lion-gate will
fall upon him and crush him to death.
Bihangami. — But suppose some one destroys
the lion-gate before the king's son goes up to it ;
will not the king's son in that case be saved ?
Bihangama. — Yes, in that case he will escape
that particular danger : but a fresh danger
awaits him. When the king's son reaches the
' Folk-talea of Bengal by Lai Behary Dey, Macmillan & Co., 1911,
pp. 40-42.
12 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL.
palace and sits at a feast prepared for him, and
when he takes into his mouth the head of a fish
cooked for him, the head of the fish will stick in
his throat and choke him to death.
Bihangami. — But suppose some one sitting at
the feast snatched the head of the fish from the
prince's plate and thus prevents him putting it
into his mouth, will not the king's son in that
case be saved ?
Bihangama. — Yes, in that case the life of the
king's son will be saA^ed ; but a fresh danger
awaits him. When the prince and the princess
retire into their sleeping apartment, and they
lie together in bed, a terrible cobra will come
into the room and bite the king's son to death.
Bihangami. — But suppose some one lying in
wait in the room cut the snake into pieces, will
not the king's son in that case be saved ?
Bihangama. — Yes, in that case the life of the
kinsr's son will be saved. But if the man who
kills the snake repeats to the prince, the conver-
sation between you and me, that man will be
turned into a marble stone.
Bihangami. — But is there no means of restor-
ing the marble statue to life ?
Bihangama. — Yes, the marble statue may be
restored to life if it is washed by the life-blood
of the infant which the princess will give birth
to, immediately after it is ushered into the
world."
THE INDIAN ORIGINAL. 13
The risks are undertaken and all the condi-
tions duly fulfilled. In the case of the Bengali
tale the "VVazir's son is obliged to state the reasons
for his conduct which had appeared highly
offensive though he had told the king repeatedly
that if he did so, he would turn to stone. The
baby here is restored to life by the grace of
Kali. In the Christian version this part of the
tale is slightly altered. One need not, however,
put any undue emphasis on the dissimiliarity bet-
ween the details of the prophesies of the ravens
and of Bihangama and Bihangaml. There is
no doubt that the western hearer of the Oriental
story introduced such alterations in the details
as suited Ijest the conditions of Western life.
The talk of Bihangama and Bihangaml and their
prophecy form a familiar incident in many of the
Bengali folk-tales. All of us have heard of such
things in our childhood. I heard this story
under the name of Rupamala, the young bride,
more than forty years ago from an aged uncle of
mine who had in his turn heard it in his child-
hood from his grandfather on the banks of the
Dhale9warl, as Lai Behary Dey heard the story
under the name of Fakirchand on the banks of
the Ganges. The story is one of great antiquity
and its Eastern origin is acknowledged by
European scholars. The story of Faithful John,
" Der Getreue Johannes " passed from Zwehrn
and Paderborn to many other countries of Europe.
14 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL.
The Oxford University Press, which under-
took an English translation of Grimms' tales
first published in 1823, made the following
observation regarding the story of Faithful
John : — "The tale is a singular one, and contains
so much of Orientalism that the reader would
almost suppose himself in the Arabian Night's
Entertainments ". But a careful student of
Oriental literature will see that this story is not
of the nature of Arabian fables, characterised
by flights of unrestrained fancy, chiefly aiming
at amusing t?ie young. The
BengTir'taie ^and Indian fablcs have, on the other
"^tZ^SaS:;^. hand, a deep ethical and moral
lesson underlying all creations
of fancy. The idea of Salhija, of dedicating one-
self to the service of his friend, at all costs and
sacrifices, to open the mouth knowing its conse-
quence to be turning into a marble statue, this
ideal friendship in a folk-story marks it out as pre-
eminently Indian. Nay, I am inclined to trace
the home of this story to Bengal, the land
of Bihangamas and Bihangamis, the birds of
prophetic sayings in hundreds of our folktales.
In the songs of May namati, written in the 12th
century of the Christian era, we find an account
of the old queen Maynamati's pursuing in a
curious manner Goda Yama, the messenger of
the kina: of Death, who had taken away the life
of her royal husband, Manika Chandra.
CHANGE OF SHAPES. 15
"Godcl Yama became bewildered at this,
and changed himself into a carp. The queen
changed herself into a water-fowl and began
to beat the carp with her
Queen Mayiiamati'H . ,„, , ,
pursuit of Godfi Wings, ihercupon Goda Yama
changed himself into a shrimp,
and the queen became a gander and searched
out the shrimp under the water. Goda Yama
next flew up in the air in the shape of a dove,
but the queen changed herself into a hawk and
pursued the dove."^
The pursuit is continued for long, till
Goda Yama turns himself into a Vaisnava saint
and sits in an assembly of holy mendicants of
that Order. The queen, changing herself into a
fly, sits on the head of the saint. Here
Goda Yama is caught by the queen Maynamati
and becomes her captive.
We find nearly an exact parallel of such
change of shapes and pursuit of the foe in some
of the western folk-tales and legends traced to
about the same point of time. Here is an ex-
tract from one of such tales :
" Caridwen went forth after Gwin Bach,
running. And he saw her and
Caridweu's pursuit i i i • i r? • j -i
of Gwin Bach. Changed himseJr into a hare
and fled. But she changed
herself into a greyhound and turned him. And
* Typical Selections from old Bengali Literature, Part I, Calcutta
University, Ed. 1914.
16 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL.
he ran towards a river and became a fish. And
she in the form of an otter-bitch chased him
under the water, until he was fain to turn him-
self into a bird of the air. Then she, as a hawk,
followed him and gave him no rest in the sky.
And just as she was about to stoop upon him,
and he was in fear of death, he espied a heap
of winnowed wheat on the floor of a barn, and he
dropped amongst the wheat and turned himself
into one of the grains. Then she transform-
ed herself into a high-crested black hen and
went to the wheat and scratched it with her
feet and found him out ".^
Of similar pursuit and change of shapes we
have many instances in our folk-tales, an interest-
ing example of which will be found in the story
of Sonar-Kathi and Rupar-Kathi in Mr. Dakshina
Majumdar's Thakunmr Jhuli (pp. 193-196).
Many of these folk-tales are however, still un-
written. I remember to have heard in my child-
hood a similar story where the pursued does not
indeed turn himself into a grain of wheat but to
a mustard-seed. In the Gaelic legends we have
again a similar example in the account of the
sons of Tuirenn carrying the three apples from
the g-arden of the Hesperides.
The sons of 1 airenu ^ ■*■
pursued by the priii- " Tlic Idug of the couutry " says
cesses of Hesperides.
the legend, "had three
daughters who were skilled in witchcraft. By
^ Mabinogion, Vol. III. Taliesin p. 359,
fiHASMALOCHANA S FIGHT. 17
sorcery they changed themselves into three
ospreys, and pursued the three hawks " — the
shapes taken by the three sons of Tuirenn.
" But the latter reached the shore first, and
changing themselves into swans, dived into the
sea." '
Many of the incidents, described in our
Bengali Ramayanas and Mahabharatas, were
gathered from local folklore. These do not form
a part of the original Sanskrit epics. Such for
instance are the legends of Bhasmalochana's
fight in the Lanka-kanda of
SS'lTBaZ: the Ramayana and of ^rlvatsa
and Chinta in the Bengali Maha-
bharata. Pandit Ramgati Nyayaratna tells us
in his 'Bangabhasha Sahitya Vishayaka Prastava'
that he had consulted all the Sanskrit Puraiias,
not to speak of the original epic of Vyasa, in
order to trace the source from which the Bengali
writers of Miahabharata got the story of ^rlvatsa
and Chinta but that he could not find a clue
to it. This story is evidently a folk-tale.
The carrying off of Chinta by a merchant whose
ship floated in the water by her touch, the
garden of a flower-woman long lying like a
piece of waste-land, but sud-
^'^cbh^^a^''^ denly smiling with flowers and
green leaves at the approach
1 Celtic Myth and Legend by Charles Squire, Gresham Publishing
Co. p. 99.
3
18 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL.
of Cliinta, the row taken by the heroine for
performing a religious rite with the object of
gaining one year's time in order to make in-
quiries about her lord, and many other incidents
of the story show its kinship with hundreds
of folk-tales prevalent in Bengali ; and the
Eev. Lai Behary Dey was right in calling this
story a folk-tale and incorporating it as such
in his work ou folk-literature. It was absurd
to attempt to trace its source in Sanskrit works.
But let us turn to that episode of the Bengali
Ramayana in which Bhasmalochana appears
in the battle field, to fight against Bama. This
episode, as I have just stated, is a purely in-
digenous tale. Here is au extract from the
Bamayana : —
" His chariot was covered with animal-skin,
and he wore on his eyes leather-spectacles.
Thus equipped Bhasmalochana, the dreaded
hero, appeared before Rama in the battle field.
Rama was in the company of Bibhishana and
Sugriva. And Bibhishana gave the alarm and
said to Rama, '* Look there. Oh lord, the hero
Bhasmalochana is before us. Now protect us
from him. He, on whom his gaze will fall,
will turn into a heap of ashes. You see his
chariot covered with animal-skin, within it lies
the dreaded one — he is like Death. In his early
youth he had practised austerities for a thou-
sand years. Brahma, the creator, was pleased
BALOR, THE GAELIC BHASMALOCHANA. 19
with him for this, and appearing before him,
said : " What boon Oh Rakshasa, Avould you
have from me r" Our hero said : " Make me
immortal, Oh creator of the universe." But
the god said — -" You will destroy my creation
if I do that; seek some other boon." "Then
do I pray unto you to grant me this boon that
my eyes be possessed of such power of destruc-
tion that they slay all on whom their look may
fall." Brahma granted him the boon and said:
" Now it is all right, your gaze will wither
all whom you may happen to see, wear a pair
of leather-spectacles and shut yourself up in a
room of your house." The E^akshasa hero was
greatly delighted to have this power and
with a view to experiment it, he gazed at his
own followers who instantly withered as soon
as the look of his eyes fell upon them. His
own children and wife have a dread for him
and none of them dares approach this unfor-
tunate monster. Such is the foe, Oh lord, that
has come to tight with you ; take care lest all
of us are destroyed by his venomous gaze."
Balor, the terrible monster-god of the Gaels
is said to have been a son of Buarainech, i.e.,
'cow-faced.' " Though he had two eyes, one
was always kept shut, for it was so venomous
that it slew anyone on whom its look fell.
Neither god nor gaint seems to have been exempt
from its danger ; so that Balor was only allowed
20 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL.
to live on condition that he kept his terrible
eye shut. On days of battle he was placed
opposite to the enemy, the lid of the destroying
eye was lifted up with a hook, and its gaze
withered all who stood before it."^
In the story of "the giant with three golden
hairs" in the collection of tales by the Brothers
Grimm, a young man, whom the king of the
country wished to murder, was entrusted by him
with a letter to the queen in which it was written
"As soon as the bearer of this arrives, let him be
killed and immediately buried." The young
The story of Chan- man, wlio had HO idea of the
dra-hasa and that „ ,. »,ii,,
of "the giant with coutcnts ot this latal letter,
three hairs." i i. i • i i. i i i
lost his way and took shel-
ter in a hut which belonged to the robbers.
They opened the letter when the young man
was asleep and read the contents. Then their
leader wrote a fresh letter in the king's name
desiring the queen, as soon as the young man
arrived, to marry him to the princess. Mean-
time they let him sleep on till morning broke,
and then showed him the right way to the
queen's palace ; where as soon as she had read
the letter, she had all possible preparations
made for the wedding ; and as the young man
was very beautiful, the princess took him willing-
ly for her husband.
1 Celtic Myth and Legend by Charles Squire, p. 49.
VISHA AND VISHAYA. 21
This story will nciturally remind one of that
of Chandrahasa told in the Mahabharata. While
both these stories have some strikingly common
features in them, the one in the Mahabharata
possesses a more romantic interest. The king,
in this story, seads young Chandrahasa to the
palace desiring his queen to put him to death
immediately by means of poison. His mandate
ran thus : "give him poison, as soon as he arrives
at the palace". Now the word for poison in
Sanskrit and Bengali is 'Visha.' The queen had
an only daughter of matchless beauty and just
grown into wamanhood. Her name was 'Vishaya"
Chandrahasa, like the young man of Grimms' tale,
lost his way and entered a garden, reserved for
the use of the princess. It was a cool evening
and the fatigue of the journey made the young
man sleepy, so that he fell fast asleep under a
shady tree. The princess with her attending
maids came to that spot and w^as instantly
smitten w^ith love for the beautiful youth. She
saw that in his turban a letter was stuck, which
she at once took for one from her royal father.
She carefully opened the letter and read its
cruel contents. Her love was the more stimu-
lated by a feeling of deep compassion and she
took a reed from her garden and wrote with the
black paint which adorned her eyes one single
letter ?[1 (ya) after the word Visha. This
changed the spirit of the letter, for instead of
22 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL.
"Give him 'Vislia' immediately" it now read
"Give hira Vishaya immediately''. So the queen,
as soon as she read the letter, forthwith got
Chandrahasa married to the fair princess Vishaya.
There is a well known nursery tale which
every Bengali hoy knows, and which seems to
be a very old one from the language of some
of the doggerel verses that are in it. In this,
a fox makes a curious trade. Once a barber,
while trying to extract a thorn from Reynard's
nose, cuts it with his razor. To escape from a
criminal suit, which the fox threatened to bring
ao-ainst him, the barber presented him with his
razor by way of compromise. The next stage
in this trade was that the fox changed his razor
for a cooking pot. The cook-
The story of Hans . ' .
in luck and that of Hlg pot WaS glVCU aWay tO a
the tradinsr fox. , ji p j.* i
man who gave the tox a tnisel
crown meant for a bridegroom. This the fox
o-ave to a bridegroom; but what was the great
calamity of the latter when he was obliged to
o-ive his bride to the fox as price of the crown !
The fox made over the bride to a drum-player,
who gave him his drum. The fox now played
upon the drum and song as follows, "I got a
razor for my nose, fag dliba dub dUb, for the
razor I got a cooking pot, fag dUbd did) dub. For
the cooking pot I got a tinsel croAvn fag cluba
dub dub. With the crown I made a bargain
for a bride, fag dUba dab dub. The bride I
THE TRADING FOX AND HANS. 23
changed for this drum, tag (Inha diih (luh. Tag
(Jnba dub dub is the sound of the drum at the
interval of each line of the song and shows
how jul)ilant, was Reynard over this trafficking
of his.
The story of Hans in luck, which is of popu
lar currency and first appeared in the JFtien-
scJielruthe, a periodical publication, in 1818,
relates to the trade of Hans, who changed "A
piece of silver as big as his head" — the earnings
of his seven years' serv^ice — for a worthless pony,
which lie again changed for a cow ; his next
bargain was to change his cow for a pig ; the
pig he gave to a man who gave him a goose, and
the goose he changed for a common rough
grinding stone. This he could not carry a long
way, and he felt himself greatly relieved when
the stone fell into a pond, which he had approa-
ched for drinking water. Hans' answers to the
grinder's questions have an unmistakable ring
of the fox's song. The grinder asked "Where
did you get that beautiful goose ?" "I did not
buy it but changed a pig for it" "And where
did you get the pig ?" "I gave a cow for it"
"And the cow ?" '•'! gave a horse for it" "And
the horse?" "I gave a piece of silver as big as
my head for that". The ^tag cjuba dub dub'' is
only wanting in the speech to make closer the
affinity between the two stories. In Indian
tales the beasts play an important part and the
24 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL.
European imitators may not always like to pre-
serve such friendly relation with the lower ani-
mals in their tales.
In the story of Shit-Basanta in the Rev. Lai
Behary Dey's folk-tales we read of the marvellous
qualities of a fish. "If any one eats it" said the
fisherman who caught it, "When he laughs
maniks (diamonds) will drop from- his mouth."
Golam Kader ^ gives us a version of the same
story ; he tells us that the brothers Shit-Basanta
espied two birds on the boush of a tree. One
of them said to Basanta "If
The heart of a bird -i • i
that yielded diamon- auy OUC kllls mC and CUtS
ds to its eater.
open my heart and eats it,
diamonds and pearls will come out of his mouth
as often as he will wish it." In the story called
the Salad in the Grimm Brothers' collection,
a little old woman who was a fairy, came
up to the merry young huntsman — the hero
of the tale — and directed him to shoot a bird,
saying "when it will fall dead, cut and open
the dead bird and take out its heart and
keep it and you will find a piece of gold
under your pillow every morning when you
rise.""^ It is needless to make any comment on
the above, the similarity is striking, suggesting a
' ^!ta-Basanta Punthi by Golam Kader Saheb, published by
Afazaddin Ahammad from 335 Upper Chitpore Road, Garanhata,
Calcutta, 1873, p. 18.
° Grimms' Popular Tales, Oxford University Press, 1909, p. 310.
THE SLUGGARDS. 25
common source of the stories or one's indebted-
ness to the otlier. We are inclined to suppose
that the very extravagance of the idea proves
its Oriental origin. The Western narrator has
tried to improve on the crudeness of the fable
by saying that a piece of gold would be found
under the pillow, instead of a precious stone
dropping from the mouth of the eater of the
bird's heart, each time that he laughed.
The story of the three sluggards in the collec-
tion of the Brothers Grimm seems to have been
also derived from some Oriental source. "The
king of a country," thus goes on the tale, "a
long way off, had three sons. He liked one as
well as another, and did not know which to leave
his kingdom to, after his death, so when he was
dying, he called them all to him, and said,
"Daar children, the laziest sluggard of the three
shall be king after me." "Then" said the
eldest, "the kins^dom is mine •
The story of the ^ '
siuggaids. for I am so lazy that when I
lie down to sleep, if any thing were to fall into
my eyes so thit I cnild nob shut them, I should
still go on sleeping." The second said "Father,
the kingdom belongs to me ; for I am so lazy
that when I sit by the lire to warm myself, I
would sooner have my toes burnt than take the
trouble to di-aw my legs back." The third said,
"Eather, the kingdom is mine, for I am so lazy
that if I were going to be hanged with the rope
4
26 FOLK LITERATUEE OF BENGAL.
round my neck, and some body were to put a
sharp knife into my hands to cut it, I had rather
be hanged than raise my hand to do it." When
the father heard this, he said "You shall be the
king ; for you are the iittest man."^
The idea of absolute inertness and sus-
pension of all physical energy in this story seems
to suggest its Eastern origin. In Bengal we
have our own story of four sluggards with which
I trust all of you are familiar. It is not ana-
logous to the above tale in its detail, but is
certainly so in spirit. Though most of you have
heard it no doubt, yet I give it below for the
purpose of comparison.
Once a king took it into his head to maintain
the idle people of his kingdom by allowing them
to live in a bungalow near his palace and mak-
ing provision for their sustenance. When such
easy livino; could be obtained, it proved a great
attraction to many people of the kingdom, and
they enlisted themselves as sluggards and lived
in the king's bungalow without being required
to do any work. The number of these people
rose to a good many, so that several new houses
had to be erected for accommodating them.
At one time when the king passed by that part
of his capital, he was struck by the sight of the
large number of idlers who lived upon him.
He now resolved to allow only the genuine
^ Grimms' Popular Tales, Oxford University Press, 1909, p. 349.
THE SLUGGARDS. 27
sluggards to live there, and dismiss the rest, and
accordingly took recourse to a device. He
ordered his people to set fire to all these
bungalows, which were roofed with straw. As
soon as fire broke out, these idle people all came
out of their rooms and fled in precipitous haste,
except only four who remained in their room
without showing the slightest sign of concern or
activity. One of them who did not open his eyes,
yet saw a great blaze through his half-closed
eyes, said to his comrades, "flow many suns have
risen, brother ?" The man Avhom he addressed,
said, "Who cares to open his eyes and see what it
is ?" The third who felt the heat of fire on his
back said ''^i-pd" which is an unmeaning
abbreviation of the word ''pith pore'' (my back
burns), for he A^as so idle that he would not
utter the full sentence but only 'pV of 'piW and
'pd of 'pore.' The fourth advised "phi-slio"
which in the like manner is an abbreviation of
the sentence "phire sho" (turn your back and
sleep). The king, who overheard their conversa-
tion, had them instantly removed from the room,
and when the fire was extinguished allowed
these four men only to live in the sluggard's
quarters, after having dismissed the rest.
As I have already stated, Bihangama and
Bihangami are the most important figures in
the Bengali folk-tales. When the hero or the
heroine falls into difficulties or dangers, the
28 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL.
birds are often found to come to the rescue by
offering advice or saying prophetic things
which are sure to be fulfilled. Their frequent
appearance is such a characteristic element in
our folk-tales that we are inclined to regard
these prophetic birds to be indigenous creations
of rural Bengal's fancy. The bringing in of
animals as characters of popular tales, side by
side with the human, is a special feature of
Asiatic, particularly Indian popular fictions;
but the prophesies of birds, with sympathies
for the heroes and heroines,
Prophesies of birds. i i • ^ .
helping their achievement ot
the marvellous and the strange, seem to be a
distinctive feature of the Bengali fables, and
curiously we find birds playing the same part
in some of the European stories as they do in
Bengali nursery-tales. Such for instance are
the stories of the "Crows and the soldier", "The
Robber bridegroom" and "Paithful John". The
former of these is a Mecklcnburgh story; that
it had an Asiatic origin seems to be hinted by the
M. Grimm brothers by their assertion that there
is a similar tale by the Persian poet Nisami.
In the story of "Jorinda and Joringel" which
is popular in the Schwalmgegend, we have the
old woman, a very popular character in old
Bengali folk-tales, who could
Sorcerj'.
change princes and sons of
noble men to beasts by her spell. The stories of
SORCERY — SLEEPING CITIES. 29
'Sakhi-sonfi', to which reference will be made
again in course of my lectures, and of 'Puspa-
inala' give us some characters of malignant
Avomen skilled in witch-craft The sorceress
Kirkc, sister of King ^Eetes, had a similar
power ; her spell was baffled by Ulysses as we
read in the Greek legend. In the story "The
grateful beasts" Avhich we also get from the
Schwalmgegend, there are many points similar
to those of a tale current among the Calmuck
Tartars in which a benevolent Brahmin receives
the graetful assistance of a mouse, a bear, and
a monkey, whom he has severally rescued from
the hands of their tormentors.
In the Western folk-tales we have accounts
of a whole city that fell asleep under the spell of
magic. This we find in the story of the Rose-bud.
We read in it how " the king and the queen and
all their court fell asleep, and the horses slept in
the stable, and the dogs in the court, the pigeons
on the house-top, and the flies on the walls.
Even the fire on the hearth left off blazing and
went to sleep ; and the meat that was roasting
, , , stood still, and the cook who
The Rose-bud and
other stories giving ^yy^g r^^ f]^r^^ time pulliuij; tllC
accounts of sleeping i
cities. kitchen-boy by the hair to give
him a box on the ear for something he had done
amiss, let him go, and both fell asleep ; and so
everything stood still and slept soundly." An
exact parallel of this we find in the accounts of
30 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL.
a sleeping city in our Dharma-mangal poems.
The spell is cast by Inda, the thief, over
Mainagar, the city of Lousen. Here is an
account of how the spell worked.
" The potter slept over the cooking-pot he
had made, and his sister Katha rolled iu the
dust by its side in profound sleep. The old
weaver- woman Jaya fell dozing over her loom.
The carpenter's wife was blowing fire into the
hearth, her head lay near the opening of the
hearth as she became senseless in sleep. The
porter fell into the drain seized by sleep and his
load was scattered in the street.^"
The earliest Dharma-mangal poems are
coeval with the songs of Manik Chandra and
should be referred to the 11th or the 12th
century of the Christian era. The story of
'''' glmmanta-imrV or a sleeping city in D. R.
Majumdar's collection has so many points of
similarity Avith those of " The Rose-bud " that
they seem evidently to have been derived from
the same source. In my childhood I heard from
an aged uncle of mine a folk-tale called. " The
Bejan Shahar " The name at least shows the
Persian origin of the story. In it I heard for
the first time the account of a whole city falling
asleep under a magic spell, an account that
I have since found repeated in many Eastern
and Western folk-tales.
1 Typical selections from old Bengali Literature, Calcntta Univer-
sity, p. 473 (Part I.)
TAPAI — THE GHOST. 31
Thus reading' these Western I'olk- stories I
have been often reminded of those that I heard
recited to me in my childhood in my native
country. The tale of Rumpel- Stilts- Kin, Avhere
naming a spirit is made a condition for escaping
from a danger, is analogous to the story of
Tapai, the ghost, that I heard from an aged
relation of mine when I was a mere boy. The
spirits in both the cases stand betrayed by their
Rumpei-stiits-Kin ^^^^^^ carclessncss. The Bengali
and Tapai, the ghost. g^g^^y ^,^^8 thuS :— OuCC OU a
time an old Brahmin was travelling through a
larsre marshv tract. It was winter and he saw
at some distance a fire sending a glimmering
light. As he was quaking in every limb owing
to the severe cold, he thought of warming
himself a little by the fire, and reaching it in all
haste, he cried " tapai," " tapai " ("let me enjoy
a little heat," " let me enjoy a little heat.")
Now what was his wonder when he saw there
a number of ghosts sitting by the fire-side and
warming themselves ! The name of one of these
happened to be " Tapai." The Brahmin had
ejaculated "tapai" signifying his desire to enjoy
the heat of the fire, which the word literally
meant, but the ghost who bore that name asked
the Brahmin as to why he had called him hy his
name. The other ghosts also joined in the query,
so that the Brahmin was not only frightened by
the sight of this unseemly company, but for a
32 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL.
moment did not know what to say in reply to
their strange question. His presence of mind
returned, however, after a moment of consterna-
tion, and, assuming an air of indifference, he said
"Why? Tapai's ancestors, up to the fourth
generation, have all heen servants in my house.
What wonder that I should call him by his
name ? " The other ghosts turned to Tapai
and said, " what does the Brahmin say ? Is it
true ? " Tapai's anger knew no hounds and he
was immediately going to kill the Brahmin, hut
the ghosts intervened and said " If what the
Brahmin says is true, you can not kill him."
"All right," said Tapai, "let him name my
ancestors up to my great-grand- father. The
condition is if he can name them, I will consent
to he his servant ; if he can not, I will put
an end to his life without any more talk."
The Brahmin said, " But my family had a
number of servants in those days, how can I
remember and name them all without consulting
my domestic register !" " x4.ll right, I give you
three days' time. On the third day in the
evening you are to meet us here and name my
ancestors. If you can not, woe will befall you,
I will not only kill you but the rest of your
family." The poor Brahmin went home with a
feelincc of alarm that can better be conceived
than described. He knew that in three days
all would be over with him. He ate nothing
TAPAI — THE GHOST. 33
nor had any sleep in the nii^ht, and in reply to
a hundred questions put by his wife, only sighed
and hid his face with his hands to conceal his
tears. The inmates of the house thought that
there was something wrong in his head and
consulted physicians. The second night came ;
in the evening of the following day the catas-
trophe was sure to happen, as there could he no
escape from the infuriated ghost. In the night
the Brahmin resolved to commit suicide. He
thought if he did so, the cruel fate to which
other members of his family were to be subjected
might be averted as the anger of the ghost
would be, to a certain extent, appeased by seeing
his corpse. But he could find no place in his
house, where he could apply a halter to his neck
without being observed. So he walked a little
distance and reached a forest on the northern
side of the house. There he selected a spot to
hang himself on a tree. But just as he caught
hold of a bough to tie the rope with, he heard
a conversation in a nasal tone peculiar to the
ghosts and stood a moment to listen to it. One
said " What is it that I hear from some of the
ghosts ? A Brahmin has claimed the whole of
your ancestors to have been born-slaves to his
family ! " The other said, " Nonsense ! the
Brahmin said whatever came to his lips in a
moment of fear. I will kill him and his whole
family in the evening to-day. I have laid
34 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL.
an impossible condition on him." " What is
that ?" " To name my ancestors up to the fourth
generation" " But what, if he is able to name
them ?" " Absurd ! how can he do that ? No one
knows it except myself and some very old ghosts".
The conversation was of course between Tapai
and his wife who lived on the top of that tree.
The wife then wanted to hear the names of
Tapai's forefathers, and Tapai once or twice
saying " No", at last yielded to her entreaties,
and said " Harmoo's son w^as Sarmoo, Sarmoo's
son was Apai, and Apai's son is Tcipai." The
Brahmin of course heard this genealogy which
was a perfect God-send to him. He committed it
to memory and returning home wrote it a
hundred times in his note-book ; he looked
extremely jubilant and his wife and others
could not understsnd how such a cloud was
removed from his looks and how it became all
sun-shime in a day. We need not folio w this
story further. This story bears, as I have said,
some analogy to that of Rumpel-Stilts-Kin in
M. Grimm's collections. The spirit in that
tale was heard to sing a song in which at
a careless moment, he gave out his name
himself. The queen of this story escaped a
great scrape by this revelation. The song
runs thus : —
" Merrily the feast I'll make.
To-day I'll brew, to morrow bake,
SUKIIU AND DUKHU. 35
Merrily 1^11 dance and sing-,
For next day will a stranger bring,
Little does rny lady dream,
Rumpel-Stilts-Kin is my name."
If we turn over the pages of Grimm's tales
The stories of Sukhu. '''^ ^^^^^^^ ^^^^P ^^^"^S '^^mck
Dukhu and Mother by a E^rcat many of them bear-
Holle . *
ing a wonderful likeness to
the stories current in this country from olden
times. The tale of " Sukhu ar Bhukht" in the
Thakurmar Jhuli has an almost exact parallel
in that of '' Mother Holle" in Grimm brother's
collections, while the tale of Ashputtel also in
the latter is to some extent analogous to the
same Bengali tale.
The poor girl Dhukhu in the Bengali tale is
entrusted by her mother to put some cotton
before the sun for drying it up. The wind sud-
denly blows and the cotton is carried away.
Dhukhu begins to weep, whereupon the wind
says," " Come with me Dhukhu, do not cry, I
will return your cotton." Dhukhu follows the
wind, weeping. In the Avay a cow says to
Dhukhu, " Dear girl, come and remove my dung
from this shed." The girl feels sympathy for
the animal and does as she is bid. Then she
again follows the wind. A banana plant calls
her and says, "Dear girl, see, these weeds and
creepers have covered my trunk, be kind to
remove these." The girl stops again and lends
36 FOLK literatuhe of bengal.
her helping hand. Then she follows the wind
as fast as she can go, hut stops to listen to the
call of a shawra plant which asks her to re-
move the dirt that has gathered at its root.
Doing that she goes again following the course
of the wind, hut a horse calls her in the
way to give it a little grass. She does so, and
then the wind hrings her to a very fine house,
w^Iiere she meets an old woman sitting hy the
door. She asks Dhukhu to go into a room of
the house and get from it dress and other
things for her toilet. She goes and finds the
room glittering with golden rohes and toilet-,
articles of the highest value. She takes for
herself those that are of the humhlest quality
and price. She is asked to hathe in the tank
which she does, and no sooner does she dip
into the wiiter, than she finds her person grown
wonderfully handsome and shining with orna-
ments that are only worn hy a princess. The
old Avoman then asks her to enter a room full
of trunks and chests of various sizes and quality
and tells her to take any one from them. Our
Dhukhu takes one that is the smallest and of
the lowest value. Then she goes hack home. In
the way the cow, the hanana, the shawra plant
and the horse whom she has severally served give
her many rich and heautiful things. After re-
turning home she shows all these to her cousin
Shukhu who Avas in affiuent circumstances,
SITKHU AND DTJKHU. 37
wishing her to partake in all that she has got,
jointly with her. But Shukhu disdainfully
rejects her oiter. The next day Dhukhu opened
the small chest, from which lo ! a prince came
out, and, taking her by the hand made her
his wife.
That day Sukhu put some cotton in the sun
and then when the wind carried it oiT, fol-
lowed the wind, wishing to be in possession
of a fortune like her relation. Sukhu met
the cow, the banana, the sliawra plants and
the horse. They wanted her help, but she
said in a haughty tone, " I am going to the old
woman for riches, away, you fools, do'nt inter*
rupt me." Then when she saw the old woman
spinning at th^ door of the house, she said,
" Old hag, you have given lots of things to that
dog-faced Dhukhu ; keep away your spindle and
cotton, and give me all things, or I will break
your spindle and all." The toilet-room was
shown her and she took away the best dress, the
best looking-glass and the most valuable things.
Then as she bathed in the tank, she found
herself deformed, her body became full of
eczema and itch, and she could not speak
except in a shrill nasal tone. She Avas asked
to choose a box like her cousin, and she took
the biffo'est one, and with it ran back home-
wards. The cow pursued her with its horns ;
the banana and the shawra plants threw
38 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL.
their boughs over her head, and the horse
gave her a kick. Coming home she opened
the chest ; hut lo ! a cobra came out and ate
her up.
The poor girl of the tale— ^' Mother Holle"
went to seek her spindle that had fallen into
a well and came to a pretty cottage by the
side of a wood ; and when she went in, she
saw an oven full of new bread baking, and
the bread said " Pull me out, pull me out or
I shall be burnt, for I am done quite enough."
So she stepped up quickly, and took it out.
Then she went on further and came to a
tree that was full of fine rosy cheeked
apples, and the tree said to her " Shake
me ! shake me ! we are quite ripe." So she
shook the tree, and the apples fell down like
a shower, until there were no more upon the
tree. Then she went on again, and at length
came to a small cottage where an old woman
was sitting at the door. She behaved so well
that the old woman was highly pleased with her;
and when she expressed her desire to go back
home, the old woman took her by the hand and
led her behind her cottage "and as the girl
stood underneath, there fell a heavy shower of
gold, so that the girl held out her apron and
caught a great deal of it." And the old Avoman,
who was a fairy, put a shining golden dress over
her, and said "All this you shall have, because
MOTHER IIOLLE. 39
you have behaved so Avell;" and she gave her
back the spindle too which had fallen into the
well and led her out by another door."
Now her sister, who was an ugly and wicked
girl, envied her lot and sat by the well and
began to spin ; she let fall her spindle into the
well and seeking it followed the same path.
When she came to the oven in the cotta2:e, the
bread called out as before, "Take me out, take
me out, or I shall be burnt, I am done quite
enough." But the lazy girl said "A pretty story
indeed 1 just as if I should dirty myself for you !"
and went on her way. She soon came to the
apple tree that cried "Shake me, shake me, for
my apples are quite ripe" But she answered "I
will take care how I do that, for one of you may
fall on my head." So slic went on. Atlength she
came to the old Pairy's house; but she was soon
tired of the girl and turned lier oif, but the lazy
girl was quite pleased at that, and thought to
herself "Now the golden rain will come." Then
the fairy took her to the same door, but when
she stood under it, instead of gold, a great kettle
full of dirty pitch came showering upon her.
"That is your wages" said mother Holle (the
fairy) as she shut the door upon her. So she
went home quite black with the pitch.
The story of Tom Thumb has many points
of agreement with that of "Per Angule" in
Daksina Ranjan's compilation. As to some of
40 FOLK LITERATURE OE BENGAL.
the adventures of Tomb, a writer in the Quarterly
Review (No. XLI) traces their connection with
some of the mysteries of Indian mythology. The
story of " Der Angule " current in Bengal,
details the adventures of a child born to a wood-
man, no bigger in size than a thumb and a half.
Tom was also of the height of a thumb, and,
like his Bengali cousin, was
'DcrTno-ukv " ^ '^""^ f^H of hcroic cntliusiasm and a
spirit of enterprise. The wood-
man of the East and the West had been both
childless at first and got their dwarfish issues
after long prayers and patient waiting. There is
another story in Grimm's collections which has
a kinship with these two fables. That is the
story of "The Young Giant and the Tailor." It
begins with the line "A husbandman had once
a son, who was no bigger than my thumb." In
some of these kindred tales, Tom is represented
as gradually growing in size, till he becomes a
giant; his achievements are all wonderful. In
England there is the story of Jack the giant-
killer, a name-sake of Tom ; and in some of the
countries of the north, he is called by different
names, such as Tom Hycophric, the son of the
Bear &c. He is a voracious
Jack the sriant killer . i«t , • t tt i l
and the wrestier-22 ©atcr lilvC a tigcr and Herbert
men strong, j^^ j^-^ Icelandic poctry des-
cribes him as eating "Eight salmons and an ox
full-grown and all the cates on which women
EASTERN AND WESTERN TALES 41
feed." And he drank three firkins of sparkling
mead." But all this is child's action before the
feats of Bayis Joan (lit. the \rrestler, 22 men-
strong) who takes a bag containing 80 lbs, of
wheat with him and, seeing a tank before him,
throws the wheat into it and drinks off the whole
solution. This was, hoAvever, his '^jalayoga^^
light refreshment.
The folk-tales collected by some of our own
men like Dakshina Ranjan Mitramajumdar, Lal-
bihary De, Golam Kader, Mahammed Munslii,
Amiruddin Ahmad, Khondakar Jabed Ali,
Munslii Afciruddin, Harinath Majumdar, Fakir-
ram Kabibhusana and others have come from
the country-side. They have been told in our
homes times without number, from an immemo-
rial age, before any door was opened in them for
receiving rays of European or even Moslem
culture. The compilers in a few cases have
given some colouring to the stories on the lines
of classical scholarship and modern thought.
This I will discuss in the course of my lectures.
Entirely free from all such colouring are the
stories in Thakur Dadar Jhuli by Babu Dakshina
Ranjan, which thus possess a unique value,
unfolding the true nature of some of our indi-
genous stories and a language in which the ring
of the original country dialect still lingers.
The striking analogies, Avhich are no chance
coincidences, between these stories of the East and
6
42 FOLK LITEBATURE OF BENGAL
West remind us of what has been acknowledged
by European scholars themselves, that in the olden
times the debt of enlightenment and culture was
one of Europe to India, as in our times it
has been quite the opposite. In India the
highest culture and refinement were for ages
represented by Magadha, from the ruins of which
have now sprung up some of the cities and towns
of Bengal, her genteel society inheriting the
traditions and ideas that floated in the metro-
politan city of the old Indian world. Owing to
Lower Bengal, the Banga proper, having been
one of the landing shores of enterprising foreign
peoples who traded with India, it is no wonder
that Bengal, or more properly Magadha, folk-
literature has obtained a worldwide circulation.
The north-western border-lands of Bengal wdiere
Kapilabastu stood, which with the light of Bud-
dhism pierced the veil of darkness that had en-
shrouded the surrounding countries in the remote
past, the south-eastern portion from which the
cotton fabrics, known as the Dacca muslin went
out to other parts of the world as the most valued
and fashionable cloth of the ancient times, and
Magadha, Champa and Banga, the great political
divisions of the province in those days — were in
touch with the rest of the world influencing the
civilization and modes of life of millions of human
beings. And wliat wonder that the folk-lore of
this favoured land should travel to remote
EXCELLENCE OF BENGALI FOLK-TALES 43
countries in tlie sliips oC Bengal laden with her
merchandise ? The Oxford University which
puhlished a translation of Grimm's tales has
appended a note saying "It often seems difficult
to account for the currency among the
peasantry on the shores of Baltic and the forests
of the Hartz, of fictions which
Eastern India
giving her folk- WOUld SCCm to bclong to tllC
tales to the world. , , • , en i i •
entertamments or the Arabians,
yet involved in legends referable to the highest
Teutonic source." "The Thousand and One
Ni2:hts " is with Occidental scholars a Avord
to signify the Asiatic type, but should not
be taken in its too literal sense. It is
used here as comprehending all tales derived
from Arabia, Persia, India and other Asiatic
countries.
The similarities I shall further detail in
course of my lectures. We have observed that
European scholars have themselves admitted that
the mediaeval folk-literature of their country
was founded upon Indian fables imported into
their shores chiefly through Arabic translations.
They have also proved that Arabic and Persian
tales are in a great measure indebted to Indian
folk-literature. The Indian folk-stories must
therefore have some special excellence and
claim to superiority which made them the
models to be copied by peoples far and near.
The Katha sarit sagara is a store house of such
44 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
fables. The Panchatantra, the Hitopodesa and
the Jataka stories originated in Magadha, on
the rains and remnants of whose glory stands
the Bengal oP to-day.
Where lies the superiority of the folk-litera-
ture of Eastern India, Avhich accounts for its
world-wide circulation ? Oriental scholars have
pointed out that the ethical lessons contained
in Indian stories form their chief attraction.
These have their match in old ^Esop's stories,
and some of tlie Teutonic fables which originat-
ed in the North and have been current in
England ever since the time of Hengist and
Horsa and of Ebba the Saxon.
We have, however, a limited number of
Bengali stories, which are not of the same nature
as those that have been coj^ied by foreign nations.
These have come down to us from the Buddhist
times, and their striking excellence from literary
and cesthetic points of view have come upon us
like a surprise. They are not to be valued merely
because "they made long nights short," Avhen we
were children ; no apology is needed in recom-
mending them, on the plea of antiquity or of a
primitive rustic origin. They are specimens of
lyrical excellence, of superior art in style and
the construction of plot that seem almost un-
paralleled in folk-literature. 'J hese stories show
Bengal to be the true home of folk-tales in a sense
in which perhaps no other country can claim
EXCELLENCE OF BENGALI FOLK-TALES 45
such a place in the worhl's literature. The stories
of ^ankhamfUa, Puspanialjl and Malaucharnala,
composed in the rural dialect of this country,
contain in them elements of purity, conception
of love and moral feeling which indeed evince
a high stage of civilization. Written in prose,
interspersed with songs, they have all the attri-
butes of master-pieces of lyrics, of which any
nation could be proud. It will l)e wrong to sup-
pose that they were meant for children ; people
in that case would like to turn into babies
in order to hear these marvels of poetic fiction.
The smell of fresh buds is in them ; the charm
of poetry — of rural life, the love of pure women,
the wreatli of juvenile mirth, which is of eternal
delight to the old, the renunciation of saints
and the devotion of martyrs — have all combined
in these unassuming tales rendering them sub-
lime and beautiful in every sense of the words.
I shall dwell upon these stories towards the end
of my present course of lectures. The copyists
and imitators from outside have approached
many of our stories in such a way as to introduce
them by a change of garb into their own
countries ; but the inimitable beauty of Malan-
chamala's character, of Kanchanmala's devo-
tion and Rupalal's remorse for rejecting a true
Avife, possess a unique Bengali grandeur, which
can be admired, but cannot be taken away and
be adapted to other climes by changing the
46 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
language, any more than a Tajmalial or a
Pyramid can be removed and shewn off from any
other spot of the eartli than where they stand
now. The character of Malanchamala, especi-
ally, is peculiarly an Indian conception and
gives us the flowering point of Hindu and
Buddhistic ideals, and, like a
Tlie GTtikatlias. -w . i.i f, t i- , t
big lily 01 an Indian tank,
is beautiful when shewn from its congenial
back-ground of this tropical country of ours.
It will scarcely stand the frosty chill of
North-western realism. Like Savitri Malan-
clia wins her dead husband back to life ; she is
devoted to him as Sita of the immortal bard of
Tamasa ; in her martyrdom she reaches the
level of a Sikh Guru ; and in endurance she can
be compared only to an Indian yogi. She is
the very spirit of renunciation^the essence of
what Buddhist and Hindu philosophers have
taught for ages. These have filtered down to
the lowest stratum of our society and been
assimilated by them, rendering the rural life
of Bengal grand in its simplicity and sweet
and resigned in its faith. The sunshina and
the clouds of life, its lights and shades,
laughters and tears are all in these simple
folk-tales. They possess the epic grandeur
of Valmiki and the lyric beauty of Jaydeva.
How fortunate the country whose men and
women heard these stories in their childhood
EXCELLENCE OF 33ENGAL1 FOLK-TALES 47
from the lips of their mothers and started in
life with the invaluable treasure of devotion
and poetry contained in them, and how unfor-
tunate the country whose men and women, in
the eagerness to play the parts of the vainglorious
and the showy, have thrown away, as it were,
diamonds from their ancestral treasure and often
run after trinkets of no value ! ihese superbly
beautiful stories are called the Gitikathas. Their
authors' names are lost, though we shall try to
prove that women for the most part composed
these marvellous tales. As the stream of the
Ganges passes by our doors to satisfy our thirst
and daily needs and we forget that it comes to us
from a lofty peak, as the rays we warm ourselves
Avith serve us the ordinary needs of life and we
forget that they come from the greatest Orb of
the solar regions, even so the master-minds that
could conceive and produce such stories have
remained unheeded and unrecognised even by
those who have profited most by these unique
treasures. Beiug within our easy reach they have
been mistaken for the ordinary and the common-
place. But they are no ordinary folk-tales, — their
prose style, resonant Avith musical sound, some-
times lapses into metrical forms which become
lyrics of great beauty ; their workmanship is often
rich as Persian carpets that should not be con-
founded with Bazar mats. But we reserve the
treatment of this subject for the present.
48 FOLK LTTKRA.TURE OF BENGAL
Alagadha was the seat of some of the
i^reatest lines of ilovaj dynasties that ever reis^ned
in India in Ingone times. The Manryas, the
Sungas and the Guptas were sovereigns who
held suzerainty over a great
the seats of son,e pai't of India; and the capital
of ti.e early Indian q£ Magadha, Pataliputra or
Kushnmpur, was during cen-
turies not only the liighest reputed seat of
learning in this land, l)ut amusements and
fashions flowed from this centre to all parts
of India — nay, even outside this great country.
It was in this place that Yisnucarmji wrote those
fables in the Pourtli or fifth century, which
combined interest for the young Avith moral
lessons. These fables were translated into
Persian by Burzubi, the illustrious physician of
the court of the Emperor Nasirban in the sixth
century. The translator was helped in the
compilation of this translation by an Indian
Pandit named Braja Jamehar. In the ninth
century the tales were translated into * rabic
by Imam Tloshen Abdul Mokaka by the order
of Kaliph A. Mansabji. In the tenth century
Sultan Mahammad Gaji had these tales again
translated into xlrabic. Since then we have had
many translations of this work into Hebrew,
Greek, and Syrian languages. The Hebrew
translation Avas prepared by a scliolar named
Dunn, and his translation served as a model for
BENGAL IX EAULY EUROPEAN TKADH'TONS 49
other scholars wlio have translated it into the
modern languages of Europe. The tales of
Vi5nu9arma are known in England as "IMlpay's
fables/'
When the glory of Magadha was extinguislied
Gaur rose to eminence over its ashes ; and the
flower of the Magadha population for the most
part migrated to Bengal. During the reign of the
Pal kings, Gaur kept up the tradition of learning
and other glories that had attached to the name
of Magadha ; and we find that the ballads of Pal
kings were not only sung in the Gangetic valley
but in the picturesque hilly sides of Orissa, nay,
so far down as the shores of the Indian ocean,
in the Bombay presidency. The songs in honour
of Manasha Devi, the home of which was the
city of ChamJ)a in Bengal, travelled on the
lyres of minstrels from Gaur to the remotest
part of Aryavarta. We have discussed this
jioint at some length in our Introduction to
the Typical Selections from old Bengali Literature
and tried to solve the historical question involved
therein.
The connection of Bengal with the rest of
the Avorld is hinted at by many legends current
in other countries. In one of
Eeng-al in the eaiiv Jirjiiji , i p i •
Euroi)oan folk-lesends. tilC lOlk-taleS, tO DC lOUUd Ul
Bosching's Yolks-sagen, called
"Cherry or the Erog-bride" the condition laid
by the old king on his sons, all of whom wished
7
50 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
to be the heir to his kingdom, was to bring him
"one hundred ells of cloth, so fine", the king said,
"that I can draw it through my golden ring."^
This evidently refers to the Dacca muslin. King
Arthur's porter vaunted of his experience and
travels in this way : — "I have been heretofore in
India the Great and India the Lesser."- I do not
know if Bensral was included in those davs in
'India the Great' or in 'India the Lesser.' |But it
must have been in one of them. If there is any
substratum of truth in the Arthurian legends,
the porter of that king must have been the first
British visitor to Bengal.
In view of the remarkable coincidences
between some of the folk-tales of Bengal and
those current in the West, especially as they
have all an unmistakable Eastern flavour, we
may not be wrong in supposing, as Ave have
already supposed, that some of the fables of
this country passed from the banks of the
Ganges and the Padma to the shores of the
Baltic and the Enpjlish Channel There are
many points strikingly common, and we have
but given a very few illustrations. The enquiring
scholar will find heaps of evidence on this
point, and re-echo the sentiments of Lalbehary
De, who while discussing this subject enthusiasti-
cally said, "The swarthy and half-naked peasant
1 Grimm's tales, Oxford edition, p. 268.
- Mabinogion, Vol, II, p. 255.
ARABIC AND PERSIAN TALES 51
on the hanks of the Ganges is a coushi alheit
of the hundredth remove, to tlie fair-skinned
and well-dressed Englishman on the hanks of
the Thames."^
There is one point, to which I should
draw your attention, in regard to the claims
of other Eastern countries
The special features of ,i n ,i
the Arabic and Persian tlian OUr OWU, On SOme of the
tales as contrasted f^il, ^..,^^ . ^c t:^„,.^„
with those of Indian. lolk-tales ot Europc, posscssmg
an unmistakable stamp of
Oriental origin. The genuine Arabic and
Persian tales have less regard for the
moral side than those that are Indian. In
most of the Indian stories the animals are
acting characters, whereas in Arabic and
Persian tales the giants and fairies play the most
important parts. The tales of the Moslem world
relate more to wonders performed by super-
human agencies and give a far more sensuous
description of love-affairs, whereas the Indian
stories have a greater solicitude for giving
rewards to virtue and humanity and protection
to the weaker and the more amiable against
the wily and the violent. The fairy of the
Arabic and Persian tales is in Indian stories a
nymph of Indra's heaven and the demon of the
former is a Eaksasa in the Indian tale.
1 Folk-tales of Bengal, Preface, p, VIII,
CHAPTER 11
Internal evidences in tlie early Bengali Folk=tales
proving their Origin before the Hindu
Renaissance
Story-telling was an art practised in India
story-teiii.ig a from immemorial times. We see
^"fts'r^Tl in the Eamayana that in the royal
fs''ea°aiiy''''''of court of Kekaya, prince Bharata
women. ^y.^^ Qj^g ^[^y entertained by tales
told by professional story-tellers, when he Avas
sad and gloomy on account of a bad dream that
he had dreamt in the preceding night. In the
Bengali Ramayana by Chandravali/ Sita in her
private apartments is found to amuse herself
with listening to tales by professional story-
tellers who were women. In the folk-tales of
Bengal we have it repeated again and again
that the princesses and other ladies of high rank
kept these professional women as companions
whose business was to tell stories affordins^ not
only amusement bat sound instruction as regards
morality and laws of conduct. In Lai Behary
Dey's collection of tales we have an account
as to how these stories which were called
Bupakathas used to be told by old and expert
^ A 16tli centniy poetess, daughter of Uija BanK;!, the illustrious
poet of the Manaia-cnlt.
STORY TELLING — A PROrESSION 58
women lo the ladies oC high-rank and even to
the kini:j and to his queen. ^ In the story of
Malancha Mala^ compiled hy Babu Dakshiiia-
ranjan "\ve have aj^ain a reference to the Pvupa-
kathas told by a professional woman to a princess.
In fact the Hindu kings not only had such
story-tellers engaged in the queen's palace but
kept a number of them in their courts. Even
in our own times we find this custom, which
has come down from a remote antiquity, followed
by some of the Rajas of this province. Late Babu
Bharatchandra Sen of Dhamrai in the district
of Dacca, was appointed not very long ago, by
Baja Birachandra Manikya of Tippera as the
story-teller of his court on a pay of Rs. 00 a
month. I had an opportunity of hearing a story
related by this gentleman. His intonation, ges-
tures and manner of speaking added a wonderful
poetic vividness to the story that he related.
And I knew that he had learnt this ait from
professional story-tellers — an art that had been
handed down from a very remote age.
Let us now examine the various sources of
Bengali folk-tales that have been accessible to
us. An examination of these will throw a light
on the periods of their composition.
We shall try to prove that most of our
folk-tales that the old ladies recited to their
^ Vide the adventures of two tbieves and of their sons, pp 176-77,
in the Folk-tales of Bengal (1911).
^ Thakur Dadar Jhuli, p. 90 (1912).
54 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
cbildren in the past, and which tlie women-folk
in the backwoods of Bengal still do recite to
the young in the evenings, belong to the period
intervening between the age of the ascendancy of
Buddhism and its decline in Bengal. This period
may be defined roughly as covering the third to
tenth century A.D. The reasons leading
to this conclusion may be summed up as
follows.
1. We have some definite internal proofs
that most of these stories were conceived before
the Hindu Benaissance and also before the
advent of Islam in this country.
As re2:ards the literature of the Hindu Renais-
sance, the characteristic feature
The early folk-tales of thls pCriod is its abuudaut
are different from i , i o i ' ,
Pauranic stories. rcierences to tiic Sanskrit epics.
The Pauranic stories, which in
later times took the place of folk-tales, such as
the legends of Dhruba, Prahlada, and a hundred
others that derived their sources from the
Bhagavata, the Bamayana and the Mahabharata,
are full of the propaganda of the Bhakti-cult.
They offer a striking contrast to ethical laws
which governed the Indian communities during
the sunny days of Buddhism. In the folk-tales
these ethical laws form the basis of human
virtues, and seldom do we find any propagandism
of the tenets of Bhakti, such as recitation of
God's name, fast, vigil and austerities undergone
OUR RENAISSANCE LTTKRATURE 55
for the sake of spiritual devotion Avliich form
the essential feature of the Pauraiiic stories.
There is besides nowhere in the earlier folk-tales
any allusion to the Ujlmayanic or ]Mahabharata-
episodes, nor to those wliich relate to the early
life of Krisna as told in the Bhagavata. The
Bengali poems written from the 14^th century
A.D. downwards are permeated hy the spirit of
Pauranic-lore, and as we have frequently re-
marked elsewhere, even low-class people such
as the hunter Kalaketu and Phullara, his wife,
who were absolutely without any knowledge of
letters, are found to refev to the Shastras and
Pauranic tales in their daily conversation.
Wherever there is any occasion to offer advice
in political, social or domestic matters, examples
are freely quoted from the Sanskrit texts. So
great was the craze for citing the Puranas, that
even a country pedagogue while giving elementary
lessons to boys would sometimes be found to bring
doAvn some great heroes of the Puranas to figure as
chief actors in a mathematical puzzle. Sometimes
Arjuna and sometimes Karna fling a number of
arrows under complicated mathematical condi-
tions, but more often the mighty ape-god
ifanuman throws down a stone-wall into a river,
the measurement of the stone, so far as it lies in
its watery bed and so far as it rises above, form-
the problem to outwit a student. In the
earlier folk-tales, as I have said, this Pauranic
56 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
element is absolutely wanting, which shows that
they are at least older than the 13th century when
the Hindu revival was an established fact in
Bengal. Nay, there are evidences in these tales
which show that the idea of the authors of the
folk-tales about the Puranas and
12 Vedas and 8 ,-, -rr i- j ' n ^•
Pmrinas. the Vcdas was not in the lines
of the Brahminic leaders of the
Hindu Benaissance. In the tales of Madhumala
and of Malanchamala we find a mention of 12
Vedas and 8 Puranas which is quite against the
historical and conventional notions of the Hindus.
This tradition the country-folk must have derived
in an earlier age from other sources than tlie
stock-in-trade learning of the Hindu revivalists.
Por in the literature that sprang up after the
revival, Brahminic vie^vs and ideas in such
matters are clearly pronounced; even the village
scribe who wrote with his reed-pen, be he so
humble as a barber or a washerman, could not put
down anything in black and white which did
not bear the stamp of Brahminic inspiration.
2. The metaphors and similes with which the
Benaissance-literature is strewn are all stereo-
typed and of a classical model, in the Bengali
literature from the 13tli to 18th century. Por
the beauty of a nose the poet
The Panrruiik nieta- • j. j? i £
pjjo,.j, is sure to refer by way ot com-
parison to the tila-^ower, for
the lips to the haiulliull, for manly arms to the
OUE RENAISSANCE LITERATUllE 57
elephant's trunk, for the teeth to pome-
granate seeds, for the face to the lotus or the
moon, for the braided hair to a black snake or
clouds, and so forth. Read one poet's descrij^tion
of a woman's beauty and then read a second, a
third, a fourth, in fact as many as you like ; one
is as good as another. The gifted poet writes
in an inspired language, the ordinary votary to
Parnassus writes in plain words, but the model
which both the genuine poet and the common
versifier have before them, is a classical one ;
the Sanskrit Rhetoric, in its stereotyped form,
inspires both. These descriptions of men and
women in the old Bengali literature have often
grown stale, flat and wearisome. When the
Pandits learnt Persian, the descriptions became
ingenious and subtle to the extreme ; and the
^rupa-varnanZC formed one of the favourite sub-
jects of the country bards for display of all the
wit and learning that their brain possessed.
It is said by a poet in praise of a woman's waist,
that one could hold it within the hollow of his
hand, it was so slender. Even in this, he fell
far short of the ideal waist of the Persian poet
who said of his heroine " Her waist was like a
liair nay, half of it." One might argue that
this was all the ingenious nonsense of the few
Pandits who wrote Sanskritic Bengali ; the
absence of such things in the Bengali folk-
tales only proves that they were composed
8
58 FOLK LITERATURE OP BENGAL
by the unlearned who did not know Sanskrit
or Persian nor cared for any classical
rules. This however is not true. For, as I
have already said, from after the 13th century
A.D. no Bengali poem was written till the 18th
century, however humble its author, who did
not introduce classical similes and figures for
adorning his poem. We tind the 16th century
poet Madhusudan, who was a barber, literally
caught in the meshes of classical metaphors.^
What a sense of relief do we feel while
reading these old folk-tales ! The long descrip-
tions of a heroine's personal appearance, from
the crown of her head to the tip of her toe, are
nowhere in these folk-tales. One or two words
produce a far greater impression of the beauti-
ful one ; the excellence of the tales lies in their
brevity and well- chosen forcible expressions.
In the Pauranic literature of
The folk-tales do not j.i i j. j. i„
give a catalogue of tlic later age, we not only
t;;:d"tr^rrTf come across descriptions of the
beautiful women. figures of youthful hcroiucs
generally in the most mono-
tonous verses, but also long catalogues of orna-
ments which form very tedious reading after all,
producing often a rather grotesque effect, as these
ornaments have mostly run out of fashion now-
a-days. In the folk-tales mention is sometimes
made of " a flame-coloured " or " blue-tinted "
^ See Banga-Bhasa-o-Sahitya, p. 491.
AQUITE DIFFERENT ATMOSPHERE 59
silk wliicli like the muslin were in ancient times
the marvels of Indian manufacture. In the
jArthurian legends we find a lady wearing " a
robe of flame-coloured silk " ' which reminds us
of ^t^^ ^ttt^?f 3^\ft of a princess in our own story
of Sankhamala. " Rohes of flame-coloured silk "
in the British isles of those days, we contend
were of Indian manufacture, but the next line
which says that the hair of the princess was
black as ebony is significant and makes it
clear enough, for the black hair belongs to and
is favoured in the tropical climes. Woman's
chief beauty in the folk- literature of Bengal,
lies in the tender qualities of the heart. These
folk-tales, though they do not give erudite and
elaborate descriptions of women's physical
charms, do not however fail to invest them with
truly noble virtues of the soul. Eeference to
physical beauty, often given in a brief line,
carries a far greater effect than the long tiresome
accounts on classical lines.
I have said that these stories generally show an
ignoran3e on the part of the people, of the (gastric
legends and of the gods and goddesses of the
Hindu pantheon, which even a common farmer
and artisan know now-a-days ; neither do the gods
come to help the mortals in their difficulties as
they are found to do in the later epochs of Bengali
literature. The mortals, possesed of dev^otion
' Mabinogion, Vol. II, p. 276.
60 FOLK LTTEIIA.TURE OF BENGAL
and superior moral qualities, cojneoutof their
trials by dint of their own virtues and merit. The
popular notions about gods which these tales nnfold,
seem strange and unfamiliar. We have read of the
Gode Yama, the messenger of Death, in the
Mayanamati legends; he has no place in the
Hindu pantheon. In " Malanchamala " we find
similarly the names of Saldut and Kaldut who
are said to be the brothers of Yamadut. Vidhata
fulfils a function which show him not at all like
the creator Brahma whose name he bears in these
stories. The duty of the former seems to be
only to write the " luck " of a new born baby on
its forehead. In this arduous task he is assisted
Notions about gods ^'>J ^is two compauious Dhara
of' TiLe" of' ^'the ^1^^ Tai'a. Their work appears
Hindu Puranas. ^q j^^ similar to that of the
tabulators of a public office who put their heads
together for comparing the results of their tabu-
lations. They set down the providential decree
by some mysterious scrawlings on the forehead
of the infant, and seem to do it automatically
under the directions of a higher power. This
power appears to be the kanmc law over which
Dhara, Tara and Bidhata have no hands ; so that
when once the letters are inscribed in an auto-
matic process, they become the destiny of the
infant — " unshunable as death. "
The Visnudut and Civadut, — the Yaikuntha
and Kailasa, — which are indispensable in
FOLK-TALES COMPOSED IN AN EARLIER AGE 61
Brahminic stories describing a hero's death and
liis subsequent march to the otiier world, have no
place whatever in these folk-tales. The }3rahmin
himself has seldom any function to discharge in
them. In the Pauranik tales his blessings or
curses bring about their inevitable result of good
fortune or calamities to the characters concerned ;
but here nothing of the sort is met with.
Witchcraft takes the place of a Brahminic curse
and the Brahmin, who appears very seldom,
when he comes at all, does so in the capacity of
rv^. J, , . . , an astrologer to tind out an
Ihe Brahmin is not '-'
an important figure auspicious date for a marriasTe
in the folk-tales. ~
or maritime journey. A Brah-
min's sacred thread is not an indispensable
thing always about him. It is allowed to hang
on a racket like one's robes, and he wears it
when he has to go out to the king's court
or a nobleman's mansion. The astrologers
of the folk-tales are those Scythian Brahmins
who are now called Acharyas in our country
and for whom the Hindu revivalists have
reserved no place in their own superior order.
These Scythian Brahmins held high position
during the ascendancy of the Buddhists in
this land.
All these evidences tend to prove that the
folk-tales of Bengal, generally speaking, had
been composed before the Pauranik tales were
popularised in the country by the Eenaissance-
62 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
The proliibition of
Sea-voyage. cino'. to illustrate and bear out
Brahmins. But these are not all. We have
other proofs, quite as convin-
our proposition. It is an established fact that
one of the principal acts of Hindu revivalist was
to shut the gate of commerce by sea against the
members of their own community. They surely
did it for their self-preservation, as, with the
ruin of the political power of the Hindus, the
wholesome control exercised upon the sea-faring
people by Hindu sovereigns ceased to have any
effect. The traders now settled in distant lands
preferring free life to the political thraldom in
their own country, thus creating a great drain
in Indian population. And if they returned to
India, they came with strange outlandish man-
ners imitating the ways of foreigners, and fell
upon tlieir quiet homes like thunder-bolts,
destrovino; the Hindu ideals of domestic life.
The Brahminic leaders, in the absence of any
political power to control the situation, pro-
hibited sea-voyfiges and enacted social laws for
outcasting those who would be guilty of
infringing them. But whatever the cause
might be, it is certain, that the commercial
activity of the Hindus ceased with the downfall
of the Hindu and Buddhistic political power
in Bengal. The merchants' position in this
country underwent a signal change from the
time their naval activities ceased. The great
THE HIGH PLACE OF MERCHANTS 63
mercantile community during the Buddhistic
times enioyed a social position
The position ol' '
vneitiiants in society and status wliicli wei'e almost
beforo the Renaissance. r. ■ i
on a par with those or the
members of royal families. Kanchanmala, the
heroine of a folk- tale, declares to her comrades
with just pride, "My father is a king and a
merchant is my husband, I have played with
diamonds and rubies as though they were play-
things," Mahmmad Munsi, the compiler of a
folk-tale, records the adventures of its hero
Rtipalal, a young merchant. This youth Avas
at once accepted as son-in-law by the Eairy king
as soon as it was reported to him that the suitor
for his daughter's hand was the son of a
respectable merchant. A king's son and a
merchant's son are always fast friends in the
Bengali folk- tales, and though sometimes the
Prime Minister's son, and even a kotwal's son,
claim such friendship with a prince in these
fables, they hold a decidedly inferior position.
It is the merchant's son alone who stands on
terms of perfect equality with the king's son.
When a princess is to be married, she invariably
elects a prince, or a merchant's son as her
bridegroom. Now after the downfall of the
Buddhist power, the merchants within a few
centuries lost all their status in society. Most
of them were outcasted. Even the Suvarna
Banikas who are still notable in this country
64 FOLK LITERATUEE OF BENGAL
in point of wealth and whom some of our
scholars have identified as scions of the royal
family of Kapilavastu, were treated with
contempt, and the water touched by them
declared unclean. The Suvarna Vanikas,
as their name implies, were dealers in gold,
and their present low status in society is
unaccountable, except as a result of Brahminic
ire against the leading merchants of the
Buddhistic community. This was j^robably due
to their not having accepted the Revivalists'
creed. In the story of (^ankhamala, the mother
takes pride in the social status of the youthful
merchant, her son, by saying "You are not a
fisherman, nor one of those who deal in flowers.
Don't you know that you are
Merchants lose their
high social status a merchant." Such a boast
after the Renaissance. , -, , f j i i • i i
beilts a person or the highest
social status only. But the fisherman— the
Kaivartas, and the flower- seller have now
a position in society which often a merchant
has not. The water touched by a class of
Kaivartas is not unclean in many places of
Bengal. But a considerable number of
merchants, inspite of tlieir Avealth, are now
struggling hard to have the privilege of
offering a cup of drinking water to the higher
classes. Alas ! even the lowest people in
our society will not accept it from their
hands.
THE SEA- VOYAGES 65
The folk-tales are full of glory of mercantile
communities. We have descriptions of sea-going
vessels which bear fascinating names having
regard to their picturesque shapes. We have the
"Madukaras" (the bees) which
The ships, their ^ . ^
picturesque construe- werc the show-sliips, and bore
tion and names. . , , .
always a merchant with his
personal staff in state. - The '"Mayurpankhis"
and the "Cukapankhis" SAvam across the sea
in the shapes of the birds whose names they
bore. The Yuktikalpataru by the king Voja,
a work of authority on the formation of ships-,
lays it down that the prow of the ship admits
of a variety of shapes. These are enumerated
as eisrht, of which one is the head of a bird.
The "Mayurpankhis" were for long the most
fashionable and favourite class of ships in
Bengal. It is now an established fact that the
sea-going Indians carried the bird peacock to
Babylon and other Western countries, to which
it was unknown, in the 6th century B.C. For
a Ion 2^ time the bird was called in some of the
European countries by its Indian name. The
peacock, which thus formed one of the most
important exports of the ancient Indian
merchants, was given an emblematic significance
in the picturesque forms adorning the prows of
the ships that carried the birds to the distant
shores. The Bengali folk-tales abound with
descriptions of these "Mayurpankhis."
9
66 FOLK LITERA.TURE OF BENGAL
The Hindu- Renaissance effected a wholesale
change in the tastes of people by diverting
them from secular pursuits to
The proper names tlic Spiritual. The achicve-
in old folk-tales indi-
cate the mercantile mCnt of a high IcVcl of Carthlv
rather than Brahmi- • i i i
nicai ideal. prosperity had been the aim
of popular ambition in the
preceding age. Gold and silver, diamond and
ruby were, no doubt, as precious in those times
as they are now. But the Hindu Renaissance,
like every great religious movement, set at
naught gold and silver and called them all, 'filthy
lucre.' The motto of the Renaissance became
" ^i?f^5>f^ ^1^ f^^sj^ ." The Brahmin prided him-
self in his poverty and cared only for spiritual
wealth. Men delighted during this Brahminic
revival in giving their children the names of
gods and goddesses of the Hindu pantheon.
From the 14th century down, the names of
men and women in our country have been more
or less associated with the names of our popular
deities. In our earlier folk-tales, however, not
one name is found to be of a Hindu god. or
goddess, a fact which will apparently strike
every student of this rural literature. Durga,
BhavanI, Uma, and Saraswati, names which
are so familiar to us, are nowhere to be met
with in the extensive field of early folk-literature.
Women's names reveal a love for those
things, which are liked most by the merchants.
A MERCANTILE IDEAL 67
We have "Kanchanmala" a string of gold,
"Manimala" a string of pearls, "Cankharafila"
a string of sea-shells, etc., and the names
of merchants also are significantly stamped
with the same idea. Even the names of
princes savour of the money-bag, and not of
the temple from which, as I have said, have
flown all names and titles since the days of the
Brahminic Renaissance. In the story of
''Kalavati Rajkanya, we have names of six
princes, viz., Hiraraja — the prince of diamonds'
Manikraja the prince of rubies, Matiraj the
prince of pearls, Cankharaja — the prince of
sea-shells and Kanchanraja — the prince of gold.
We have names of still earlier period which do
not show any trace of Sanskritic elegancQ, but
seem as unmeaning Prakrit jargon. But a
closer scrutiny will discover suggestions in them
indicating also a love for wealth — the charac-
teristic trait of mercantile classes. Such for
instance are "Aya Bene" (^t^U^C^) "Saya Bene"
(^TtlC^^f) "Gasta Bene" (^^C^^) "Masta Bene"
(^\?ir^(;^). "Aya Bene" may mean a merchant
with large income (^t^), "Saya Bene" is
possibly an abbreviation of Saha Bene, the word
Saha, which is now the family-surname of a
large community of merchants, is an abbreviated
form of the word sadhu, a word which in the
oldj Bengali literature generally signifies a rich
merchant. If we thus prepare a list of names,
€8 POLK LITERATURE OE BENGAL
we find that it is wealth and a thought of profit
and income that dominated over the mind of
the people ; they naturally called their babies
by such things that they prized dearly in their
lives. We find in the folk-tales compiled by
some of our modern writers, such as the Eev.
Lai Biliary Dey, that older names have now and
then been changed for modern ones ; this they
have apparently done to suit the current taste.
The names of architects and of boat-men also of
the earlier folk-tales indicate the spirit of the
times. In the story of Madhumala, we have
"Hiramanik" (diamonds and jorecious stone)
and "Shonalal" (gold and precious stone) — the
names of two architects, and in the story of
Kanchanamala the captain of the ship is called
Dulaldhan (dearly prized wealth). We do not
mean to say that these names are solely confined
to that particular period of commercial activity
in Bengal. Even in the present day we
occasionally meet with such names, but in the
earlier folk-tales nearly all names of chief as
well as minor characters bear imports suggestive
of good money. The contrast appears very
striking when we find a total absence in
the earlier fables of names after those of the
Hindu gods and goddesses, which became so
plentiful in later times. The above evidences
establish one point, viz., that it was during
the period of great commercial activity prior to
WEALTH AND ARISTOCRACY 69
the Hindu Renaissance in Bengal that most of
the earlier I'olk-tales Avere composed.
The same idea is traced in the incidental
descriptions of the grandeur and wealth that
abound in these stories, offering a sharp contrast
to the present condition of things in society.
Everywhere there is that reference to a high
water-mark of prosperity — the fruit of commer-
cial success, in the homes of merchants. The
number of the rich must have
Grandeur and wealth. bccn great, for in the common
folk-tales, allusions to prosper-
ous life are plentiful, showing that the ordinary
village-women who mostly composed the stories,
spoke from their direct knowledge and observa-
tion. High-class women prided in their profi-
ciency in the culinary art. The hearths, they
used for cooking, were plated with gold ; they
used sandal- wood for fuel, and for the purpose
of frying they generally used clarified butter
in the place of oil. Such ideas of luxury have
passed away from our society, not that they are
out of fashion, but because the upper classes
are now not so rich as to be able to afford them.
We read in these tales of "spoons made of
pearls," of "picturesque water- vessels made of
solid gold." After the revival of Hinduism, its
leaders who came from distant countries and
intermarried with the local people, set a high
value on their own blood and hence lineage
70 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
became the chief consideration in matrimonial
matters. We know that in comparatively later
times, a bridegroom of high qualifications was
perfectly satisfied with marrying the ugliest
bride and even one who limped or was one-
eyed, if she could trace her ancestry from one
of the Kulin-leaders. The
delreAttn""" ^^te of things Unfolded by
the folk-tales present a very
different condition. The bride is said to
be an exquisite beauty. The bridegroom
must be a hero and the bride fair, proving
the force of Dryden's rhymed formula declar-
ing that none but the brave, deserve the fair.
This, of course, is not only the motto of all
folk-tales, but of all heroic poems of the world.
We find in the folk-tales of Bengal, that the
Ghatakas or the match -makers carried with them
pictures of the bride and the bridegroom to be
shown to the parties concerned. These w-ere held
indispensable where the bride and the bridegroom
lived at a distance from one another. The
pictures in the case of a Avealthy couple were
drawn on golden plates, trimmed with diamonds
and folded within rich coverings of embroidered
silk. The procession of a rich man's marriage
generally consisted of a large number of
Chaturdolcls, along with many other things for
display ; these were temple-shaped wooden
conveyances inlaid with precious stones, the
ARISTOCRACY AND WEALTH 7l
most pictiiresqiie oii(3 haing in the middle,
reserved for the bride and the
Articles of dnilv uso, i • i •l^ i' p 2.1
and luxury. bridegroom, with a root of the
form of a cnpola or minaret.
This special Chatnrdola had a golden nmhrella
unfurled over the golden throne on the pedestal.
There were, besides, the Pusparathas or chariots
covered with floral wreaths. Pillows were some-
times made with seeds of white mustard and
this was considered as a piece of luxury. For
decorating the eyes Avith black-paint {anjan)
artistic shaped silver-rods were used. Every-
where we find references to golden plates and
caps, showing that these were in the everyday
use of the merchants and other rich men. A
merchant's daughter or a princess used to keep
a large number of female attendants and maids
who are described as waiting with oil-cakes,
alkaly and towels upon their mistress when she
went to her toilet-room in the afternoon. We
also read of very fine robes made of cotton "that
looked transparent as dew" and sandal-coloured
aprons and clothes called "the 3Ieg1indumhur
and Mayurpekham,^'' The word Maglmdumhiir
may be translated as blue-tinted like a cloud,
and Mayurpekliam — of the colour of the plumes
of a peacock's tail. There are also accounts of
palaces whose uppermost floor was to be reached
by a flight of one thousand stairs, of roofs
made of white marble-plated with gold and
72 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL.
trimmed with pendants of diamond, of the
princess' crown from which big diamonds shone
and cymbals of gold adorning the feet of
lovely women of all castes. A merchant's trea-
sures, we are told, consisted, amongst other
valuable articles, of heaps of diamonds and rubies
with seven bevelled edges and sea- shells with
polished mouths of the colour and quality of
pearls. The flower- women used everyday to carry
baskets of " flowers that bloom in the mornins:
and those that bloom in the dewy eve " to youth-
ful maidens at the dawn of the day and to-
wards its close respectively. We have glimpses
into the sort of life led by a princess or a rich
lady in the fascinating picture of Madhumala
who awakes from sleep by the spell cast upon
her bv the fairies in the middle of the nis^ht,
and taking it to be the dawn of the day, thus
muses within herself ; — "I w^onder if it is
morning, why then does not the bird ^ari sing
its gay note in its cage as is its wont? If
morning, why do not the cymbals sound on
the busy feet of maid -servants? And why
do the three long rows of lamps fed by clarified
butter still burn in my compartments ?"
The princess Madhumala is described as
sleeping on a golden couch decorated with
diamonds and pearls, the cushion spread over
it being prepared with thirteen varieties of
rich silk.
NATAL IIOOM 73
With tlio Brahmin revivalist, the room in
which th(^ child hrst sees the liglit is held
unclean. Even in the cases of rich people, a
tem])orary straAv hut of a very misei'al)le sort
used to he raised for siicli purposes near their
mansion and the hut remained outside the main
buildings, being considered untouchable by the
family. We read, however, that
in the days of these rural tales
such rooms used to be built with great architec-
tural ins^enuitv and decorations of oold in
rich men's homes. Surely it affords a
striking contrast to the sort of things that have
existed for over six hundred years; for who can
think now, with the orthodox ideas of Hindu
cleanliness in his head, of a lying-in-room being
built like a parlour with artistic decorations
of the most precious metal ?
AYe need not enumerate other details of
high-living and luxuries indulged in by the
aristocratic communities of Bengal in the hey-
day of her commercial activities as depicted
in the rural literature. We shall, however,
refer to some rites the observance of which
was held indispensable for a merchant on the
eve of undertaking a sea-voyage. The tradition
of these lies enshrouded in obscurity owing
to Indians having ceased for a long time to
travel by sea. But as given in these folk-tales,
some of the traditions attract us by the tender
10
^4 FOLK LITERATURE OF BEN G At
associations of domestic duties which had to be
fulfilled before a merchant
On the eve of a sea- could Icave homc for distant
Toyage.
shores. The wife comes with
a gold vessel full of water and washes the feet
of her husband about to sail abroad, and
then wipes them with her unbraided lock.s.
The whole court-yard is decorated with alipana
paintings. The captain of the ship comes and
asks: — "Have you, Oh master, partaken of
the meal first offered to temples ? Have five
lights been waived and holy baths performed
in the tank ? Are the eight pinnacles of god's
temple intact and in good condition ? Is there a
sufficient reserve supply in the house ? Have you
bowed your head down before the gods ? Have
you made sufficient provision for each of your
family members for the time you may be absent
from home? Have you taken leave of each and
every one in your family ? And have they gladly
given such permission?" In one case, the
merchant who had a dislike for his wife, did not
see her before he left home. But the captain
refused to set sail to the ship, until and unless
his master obtained her permission. It should
be said that the captain ventured to do so,
because all this was held indispensable from a
religious point of view. The prows of the ships
had to be painted with red- powder, sandal paste
and vermilion, and the whole ship oiled before
DISHONESTY OF MERCHANTS 75
starting. In the front part of the ship, amidst
pearl pendants, hung five lights that burnt
night and day. The merchants in later times
did not always recognise honesty to be the
best policy. In the 16th century, Kabikankan
described Marclri9ila — ^a typical rogue. In
earlier times also there was no want of Murari's
cousins, who though not such great villains,
behaved unscrupulously while
Jb'h^Sf""' """ selliag their goods in distant
countries. In the story of
Cankhamala, we get the following account of
their dealings.
" Some merchants produce ' darmuj ' a kind
of poisonous Avood, from their bags and call it
cinnamon. Some sell goods worth a kahaii for
a sikka. Some have their baskets full of pieces
of ordinary stone, and sell them as diamonds
and rubies."
While taking a survey of these materials in
respect of commercial transactions, we do not
certainly hold these as historical evidences. The
rural tales are mere products of imagination
of the people of the country-side, but yet
what historical facts can be a more genuine
index to the state of society than these
fictions, which spring from the accumulated
observations and wisdom of the rural people —
the true recorders of the customs and manners of
their societv ?
76 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
The " Rtipakatlias " or folk-tales, as I have
already stated, used to be lold in the
evenings by professional story-tellers who were
generally flower-wornen or barber- women. The
women of the 1)arber caste especially had
many important functions to discharge in the
houses of rich people. They were generally
the confidante of the ladies of high rank
and assisted in their toilet. The barbers, in
ancient days enjoyed a quite decent position
in Hindu society. The Mahabharata lays
it down that the rice cooked
The position of a i i i • ^ c -n i
barber ill sociPty. ^y barbei's IS good for Brah-
mins and other castes. The
function they have still to discharge in all
ceremonials of the Hindus savour of their
traditional place in the social scale from a
remote antiquity. Their position in our society
might have, to a considerable extent, been
lowered during the Mahomedan times on ac-
count Of their having been obliged to shave the
Mahammadans. No one in society dared to
outcast them or declare their water as untouch-
able, when the ruling race engaged their
professional services ; but the barbers, since that
time, seem to have ceased to do many offices
which they used to perform in the homes of
aristocratic Hindu families in the pre-
Mahammadan period. The barber-women had
ready access to the palace and to a princes*
THE TALES COMPOSED BY WOMEN 77
dressing room. Old women of every caste
acquired the art of story-telling, but it is the
barber-women that learnt to do it with the
greatest eifect; for the flower-women and the
barber-women alone adopted story-telling as the
avocation of their lives.
That women composed these stories in
Bengal will be easily proved by the style and
manner in which they are delivered. The
mannerisms, the naive and homely descriptions —
Evidences to prove tlicir dircctncss and tender
that these folk-tales i i n i i. f x.
were mostly composed touchcs all bear a tcstimony to
by T\omen. ^I^^|. pgc^^ii^^j. ^\{\\ [^ manipula-
tion which pre-eminently belongs to the softer
sex. In the genuine stories collected first-hand
from women, these qualities are plentifully in
evidence. No one of the ruder sex could build
up the tales with a rich supply of adages current
in the zenana, — such as " '^i^ (^i>^ '^l^'^ "^Itfl I
\5t^ ^«Tt<[ ^ ?t^t^ ^tf^ l" iW^ poo^' people live in
huts, but lo ! the king's sneeze is heard even
here — which means, though so poor, we are not
out of the reach of the king's oppression), " JR "^^
^f^, ^ f^^C«^^ ^ft" (^loney and women, if they
do not breed, are worse than useless), "^t^ C^t\5t
C^«^ ^«^ 1 ¥f^N ^?r ^^ ^«^ ?" (The elephant
and the horse are drowned, the flv wants to
fathom the Avater). There are lots of such
things in the tales and these, every one knows
in Bengal, are found interspersed in the every-
78 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
day conversation of the women-folk of our
country. There are besides sentences which are
unmeaning jargon, and may he classed with
lullabies ; but like the chirp of a bird, these have
a singularly charming effect, especially on the
young. However great the genius and poetic
flight of a man maybe, he is not equal to the task
of writing such a language, as that which,
far off from the clatter of a busy world, has
developed in the inner apartments of an oriental
home, fed by sentiments alone. There is one
point that will at once strike the reader as a typi-
cal specimen of a woman's mode of calculation.
After Khana and Lilavati, the study of
mathematics seems to have been given up by
women particularly in this Gangetic valley. " A
woman may vaunt of her many brilliant quali-
fications," says one of our poets, "but if she has
to calculate shillings and pence, she sees no
way out, except to go to her lover's house and
consult him." In the folk- tales we find in
several instances a peculiar mode of calculation
which certainly does not illustrate the mathe-
matical proficiency of the calculator, but
proves that the mathematician is a woman.
In one passage the figure
pfacuser'''''"^'"' ^65 had to be mentioned: it
is put as 7 times 36 plus 13.
In another, 964 was expressed by "12 times
52 and 17 times 20. In another, a period
TfiE TALES COMPOSED BY WOMEN ?9
of time equal to 298 houvs is indicated by the
expression 12 days and 13 nights. As our
women usually calculate figures by twenties and
in rare cases by fifties, this is a mode peculiar
to them. No man does it in this way except
when he is absolutely illiterate or stupid.
The high level of genius displayed in the
conception of tlie stories from which the
above" quotations are made shows an odd
combination of extraordinary merit Avith much
stupidity. This could not have probably been
the case, had their authors been of the ruder
sex. When a Hindu woman was in confinement,
which, except in the case of Brahminical and
one or two high castes, is for a period of 30
days, the services of a story-teller used to be
en2:ao:ed in former times. These storv-tellers were
generally widoAvs and sometimes old men, who
had learnt the art from their grand-mothers.
The stories used to be told from evening till
midnight, except on the sixth night of the birth
of a child, when the story-teller assisted by
a chorus continued his recitations the Avhole
night. On the sixth night the Vidhata purusa —
the god of human destiny — comes, according to
Hindu notions, to write the fate of the baby on its
forehead, and therefore keeping up through the
whole of night, on that occasion, is an absolute
necessity. The new mother feels lonely in her
room during the days of confinement and for the
80 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
sake of keei^ing her in good spirit and in a jovial
mood, they adopt this means, than which nothing
can be more wholesome for the occasion. The
tales are interspersed with songs, and when a
story is told by an old widow, two or three young
women j who have good voices, form a chorus and
sing the songs. The boys and girls all assemble
to hear them, and between many sighs and much
laughter, the soft eye-lids close like buds,
sometimes when a story is yet unfinished. Such
things may still be observcTl in our distant
villages, Avhere novel-reading and the study of
Algebra and Trigonometry have not yet driven
popular poetry and sentiment into the back-
ground.
CHAPTER 111
Currency of older forms of belief amongst the converts
to Islam in their folk=literature.
After the Muhammadan conquest of Benoa]
Islam found easy converts among the lay
Buddhist jiopulation which was still verj?-
considerable in the country. When the Hindu
community was reorganised on the basis of the
old Vedic relisrion, and caste-
The Nerlas and Xedis. ^^ '
rules were revised and made
more stringent, the lay Buddhist people found
their position very uncongenial in the country.
The water touched by them was unclean and the
Bhikkns and the Bhikkums — the Buddhist
monks and nuns — who numbered by thousands
in Bengal in the 13th century, were treated
with contempt and called Neda-nedls or shaven
men and women. This name, the Hindus gave
them contemptuously, not only because these
Buddhists represented a fallen order, from
whom the Hindu revivalists had forcibly taken
away all power in spiritual and even secular
matters, but because of the gross immorality
which a life of celibacy had brought upon the
men and women living in monasteries during
the days of the decline of Buddhism.
11
82 FOLK LITERATURE OP BENGAL
In an environment which was full of
animosity, hatred and bitterness, these Buddhists
found their position very uncomfortable, and
they naturally preferred to become converts to
Islam and thus associate themselves with the
ruling race. In the Iltli century, their lay
order swelled the ranks of Muhammadan converts
and the A^ast Islamite population of modern
Bengal comprises the descendants of the Buddhist
laity whom the Hindus still treat with the
contemptuous epithet of Nedas — a title by which
they used to designate the Buddhist Bhikkus.
But the folk-tales of Bengal were no more
a monopoly of the Hindus than of the Buddhists,
in the good old days immediately before the
Hindu Renaissance, when both the communities
had almost the same social and relis-ious ideals.
Their tantrlc ceremonies and rites of worship
were so similar that none but an adept could
distinguish those of the one
of the Hiiidns and the f rom tllC otllCr. TllC Buddlllst
Buddhists before the , , . -, . ,.
Renaissance — v e r y mouks, who HI earlier tl-'UCS,
"^"'^ ^ ^^ ^- had strictly pursued the path
of jnau and led an austere life of struggle
to control the passions, gradually began to yield
to the softer charms of the Bhakti-cult, and in
the 12tli and i3th centuries their temples
became resonant with the sounds of the evening-
bells, of tabor and of Mr tana songs accompanied
with dance. The dolias of Kanupada and other
THE lIINi)U AND BUDDHIST FOLK-TALES 83
saintly poets Avere suug in the temples, and
prostration, fast and vigil became the order of
the day much in the same way as may be seen
in the places of Hindu worship of to-day. Dr.
Kern has noticed this growth of a spirit of
devotion in the Buddhist temples, eventually
developing into the ecstatic fervour of the latter-
day Vaisnavism. In fact the Mahay ana
Buddhism from the time of Nasrarvuna in the
1st century A.D. gradually assimilated the
doctrines of the Gita and other Hindu scriptures,
till, before it finally lost its hold upon the Indian
communities, it had practically demolished all
barrier between Buddhism and Hinduism, bring-
ing the former many steps nearer to the mother-
cult, from which it had sprung in the 6th
century B.C.
So the folk-tales told in those days in the
Hindu and Buddhist families were very much
alike. It was a pleasant occupation of the
Bengali women to relate such stories in the
eveiping, and it was an engaging pursuit of young
children to follow the adventures of the heroes
through their great perils and trials, — in the
mansions of ultra-human and demoniac creatures,
— in the tanks from which huge cobras sprang
with jewels shining from their hoods, or, in the
dark wildernesses infested with aerial beings
where our heroes had lost their path in the night.
But still more was the effect of the tales on the
84 rOLK LITEEATUEE OF BENGAL
young listeners of the fair sex, who heard with
beating hearts all that the heroines suffered,
now from their merciless and grimly cruel
sisters-in-law, now from the persistent indifPer-
encc and maltreatment of princely fathers-in-
law and not infrequently from their own preju-
diced husbands, whom, inspite of all imaginable
ills, they dearly loved.
Islam gave new faith to the Buddhists
and the low-caste Hindus from Avhose ranks it
counted its largest number of recruits. A few
drops of the Iranian and Semitic blood that now
run through the veins of 90 per cent, of the
Bengali Muhammadans will scarcely admit of
detection by scrutiny, any more than an element
of the mother-tincture in a high dilution of a
Homeopathic medicine. Those Bengalis who
were Hindus and Buddhists at one time, but
became Muhammadan converts mostly in the
14th century A.D, did not, in some cases, give
up their ancestral calling, though it was
connected with the religion
Hindu iek-as in tho that thcv had shunned. A
comuiuuity of Muna- ''
nunadau converts. large uumbcr of pcoplc in
this country used to earn
their bread by singing hymns in praise of
some gods or goddesses from door to door.
At the present day the Agamani singers
among the Saktas do so, and the A'aisnava
mendicants are of course the most tvpical
MyMNS of LAKSMi 85
of this class of people. In ij^ood old days
before the Muhammadan conquest, the sin-
i^ers of hymns in praise of LaksmI — the harvest-
i^oddess — visited every house of the peasantry,
and the women of Bengal delighted to hear
from their lips the signs of a lucky woman — of
the duties to be performed by the virtuous wife
and the Avays of the evil-eyed one — of the hastini
" who walks with eyes fixed
Singers of hymns ou the air aud speaks like a
in praise of Laksnii , l a a L^ ii /--
the harvest-goddess. truuipet, ot tlic uoblc padmini
*' who rises with the first crow-
in"* of the crows and lii^hts the lanjp at the
dusk, who does not touch any food before her
husband has taken meal" and fulfils other- con-
ditions becoming a true housewife. ^Jliesc
hymns and doggerels pertaining to domestic
duties are addressed to Visiiu by his consort
LaksmI. The goddess in detailing the virtues
of a good wife and the vices of a Ijad one, thus
says of their respective husbands, " The hus-
band of a chaste wife is glorious like the summit
of a mountain, but that of an unchaste one is
like the prow of a rotten boat." This adulation
of the virtues of a good wife by the Goddess
of Harvest herself is no mean compliment,
making the peasant's wife proud of her
loyalty to her mate, and she fills the bag
of the professional mendicant with rice,
brinjal and potato, and even sometimes puts a
86 rOLK LITEHATUKE OF EENGAL
hard-earned copper-piece in the mendicant's
hands. But though it is known to all in
Bengal, the fact may yet sound strange to
those who do not know it, that these singers
of hymns on Laksnii, the goddess, are not
Hindus, as it should he, hut Muhammadan
mendicants. It proves heyond douht that
those professional Buddhist and Hindu mendi-
cants, Avhose avocation it had heen to sing
these songs hefore Muhammadan conquest in
the 18th century, did not give up their calling
after having embraced Islam, but have conti-
nued to sing the same songs in praise of the
Hindu goddess up to now. The language in
which the songs are couched have undergone
no alteration and is in every respect that
crude Prakritic Bengali in which the Maina-
matl songs or the Cunyapurana were composed-
in the lltli or 12th century. The Muhammadans,
inspite of their religious and iconoclastic zeal,
have heen tolerant so far as not to interfere
with the avocations of the new recruits to their
religion. The Buddhist and Hindu converts
to Islam in the island of Java are allowed to
perform the worship of Laksmi with all the
devotion of a pious Hhidu. The Muhammadans
are now mostly the ''rojahs" or physicians of
serpent-hites in Bengal. They recite incanta-
tions and mantras for the cure of not only those
who are bitten by serpents but also of those said
CURE FOR SNAKE-TiTTE 87
to J)e possessed hy spirits, h'rom generation to
generatio]!, tliese " roj/tns,''
The incantations t.M- mostly .Aruhammadans, as I
curing snako.hit.. J^.^^,^ ^.^|^|^ j^^^^.^ ^^^^ ^^^.^^^j_
tionei's ol' this art. They no
d()u])t sprano' t'rom the Hiudii and Bnddhist
families and did not, after they were converted
to Mulianimadan faith, give up a calling which
liad been a source of their maintenance from
remote times. A manual of these incantations
and man f J as has lately 1)een published by
Mir Khoram Ali from 155-1 Masjidbari Street,
Calcutta. This writer says in the Introduction
to his Manual that liis name stands first in
the list of those physicians who cui-e by
charms and incantations. In all cases of snake-
bite, or wh(n-e the patient withers away fi-om
being possessed by a spirit or under the malig-
nant spell of a witch, the mantras that he knows
are infallible. Hence many people seek his
help in distress. But as he travels from place
to place, they have often to return to their
homes disappointed. " Aged am I," he says,
" and know not when the final call will come
upon me." So he is afraid lest the art that
lias been practised from generation to generation
in his family, would die Avith him, as there is
none who knows the charms so Avell as he does.
With these preliminary remarks he introduces
his subject which is full of Hindu ideas from th')
88 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
beginning? to the end. The language of these
mantras sometimes bears a striking kinship with
the Bengali style of the 10th and 11th centuries
and at others Avith those of the 15th and the
16th. This proves that some meml:)ers of the
o'ojha families were converted to Islam in the
13tli century, when the Muharamadans first
raided Bengal, and otliers in the 15th and
16th centuries. The language of these mantras
does not seem to have changed at all from
the form in which they were originally
composed ; for if a word is altered then the
charm loses all efficacy. It may be said that
the j\Iuliammadans mis^ht have learned these
mantras from some Hindus, just as in the
country-side they learn their alphabets from
Hindu Gw} u Jlahagai/as. But this is not at all
likely. Whole families of Muhammadans in many
cases know the mantras, which are full of
praises of Hindu gods and goddesses ; the Rojhas,
who cure snake bite and spirit-possession, are
generally Muhammadans, at least they are the
best of the doctors of such charms in the
countrv-side. Like the sinsjers of Lakshml's
glories, who, turning Muhammadans, did not give
up the calling they practised in their ' heathen
days,' these Rojhas also followed an avocation
while they were ' heathen ' which has not been
afterwards found incompatible, as a profession,
with the conditions of their new society, though
SPECIMENS 01' ARCHAIC LANGUAGE 89
from a religious point of view, such a thing
could not he tolerated. Thus we conclude that
long he fore the 13th century the ancestors of
these Muhanimadans had followed callings for
earning their hread associated with the Hindu
and Buddhist religions, and the Mollas or the
Muhammadan priests relaxed their orthodoxy so
far as to allow them to follow those pursuits
which had been the main source of income
to their families for many generations. In the
Manual referred to, the corn-
very ^ntijuatef like piler Khoramali invokes the
?aThem?an7i2u'; ^id of 64. Dakiuces of the
centuries. Hiudu Tautras and their "60
sisters " possibly of the Buddhist Tantras. The
first Mantra for snake-bite runs thus : —
^^tf^ f^ ^t^i ^i^ ^^ ^'^ =^^? h"
The language has evidently some Prakrit
elements in it ; the word ^^^ is one of such,
the word ^^^ for Kamrup is one, as we find it
in the early Dharma-mangala poems. We profess
our ignorance in regard to the historical
reference in ** ^f^^ f^^ ^^1 f^^l C^^^ ^?. " It is
probable that a Raja of that name flourished
in Bali Uttarpara, in the pre- Muhammadan days
12
90 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
who had achieved a great fame as a healer by
mantras. The appeal to Maiiasa Devi shows that
the mantra, was inculcated by her followers in
olden times, and Kamaksa is certainly one of our
earliest shrines. The next mantra is in a style
which closely resembles that of the Cunyapuraria
of Ramai Pundit, written in the 11th century.
There are occasionally to be met with in this
Manual Arabic, incantations invoking the aid of
the Prophet, and this is but too natural. Within
more than 7 centuries of conversion to Islam,
these people could not helj) adding some exotic
element to the hymns, in accordance with the faith
they had embraced, but the main portion of the
book discloses purely Hindu ideas. There are
references and appeals to Civa, Kali, Krisna,
Garuda and other deities of the Hindu pantheon
almost on every page. In the ynantras relating
to snake-bite, Krisna, as the vanquisher of the
snake Kaliya, is frequently invoked. Hanumana,
the great ape-god, is also addressed for helping
in the cure of the patient, and an appeal to Rama
and Lakshmaua comes off as a matter of course.
Kamaksa and Kayunr, the two-notable shrines,
are mentioned and it is a curious thing that the
Muhammadan prodigy in the use of si^ells recites
"^ =^1^1 ¥^" like a Hindu Brahmin. Chandi, the
goddess, as daughter of a Hacli,
Historical side-lights. i, ^r^ r^ =v ., .
'^^ 1% ^^ft ^ IS a familiar Ime
which occurs often in the colophon. We know
CHANDI DAUGHTER OF A HAT)I 91
that Hcldis, in olden times, used to perform
priestly functions in some of the Kali temples,
and they even do so now in some parts of
Bengal. They are also the custodians of many
temples of Citala, the small-pox-goddess ; and
in Hadisidhycl of the Mainamatl songs, we find
one of the Ha,di caste elevated to the rank of a
o-reat sasj-e. The Hadis seem to have at one time
occupied a decent position in society, and it may
not he improhahle that their present degraded
position is due to the antagonism and resistance
they offered to the Brahmins of the Benaissance.
This invocation of Chandi, as daughter of a Hadi,
raises the problem of a far-reaching character as
to how some of the non-Aryan deities found
entrance into the temples of the Aryans. Por
this Chandi, who is described as daughter of a
Hadi, and whom. originally the Haclis worship-
ped as priests in temples, gradually became
identical with Pilrvati, the consort of (Jiliva.
The tradition of her origin from Hadi parents
was in course of time totally ignored or suppres-
sed as that caste sank in the humblest social
scale. There are many lines in this Manual
which are full of suggestions on other lines.
We find invocation in it of the god Dharma,
who in the popular belief is no other
than the Buddha himself. Besides there are
allusions to Balluka Sagara. This Ballaka or
Balluka is frequently mentioned in the
92 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
early Dharma Manga^ poems as a Buddhist
shrine.
The Manual, as I have air idy said,
contains ardi; "orms of old V)> r. ili, often
reminding us of the style prevr i^. ^ the
10th and 12th centuries. There is n mother
hook, written by one Munshi Enayetulla Sircar,
in which the birth and adventures of Jarasura
or the Demon of Fever, are recorded. This
is evidently a record of a
dJ™fe™orfev'e° Hhidu tradition which now
seems to be lost amongst the
Hindus themselves, but is still current among
the Muhammadan population, transmitted from
that remote time when they eschewed their
belief in the older religions. Munshi Enayetulla
Sircar begins with the line " ^1^1^ ^^*\^ ^^t "
(' obeisance to Rama and Gane9a ') and then
goes on to tell how a rich Brahmin's beautiful
daughter fell in love with a man of the Ohandala
caste. This youtli absconded with her, but was
detected by a ferry-man in the way. The latter
threatened to bring the matter to the notice of
the Raja's men, but desisted from that course on
the Chandala giving him an undertaking that
he would leave the girl with the ferry-man.
The woman who was enceinte gave birth to a
child on Tuesday in the month of September : —
it was the night of the new moon and the
moment when the babv came to the world was
JARASURA — THE DEMON OF FEVER 93
very inauspicious. It was thrown away into the
jungles on that very nis^ht hy the woman with
a view to escape scandal, l)ut the foxes nourished
it hy their milk. In course of time this child
grew to he the Demon of Fever and his adven-
tures are related fully in the latter portion of
the book. It is also mentioned how a Brahmin
succeeded in gaining wealth hy the help of
this deified Demon, having cured a princess of
persistent fever. This disease was unknown
in the country before the birth of Jarasura.
Now w^hat we have already written proves
two points, viz., that the Hindus and Buddhists
who had renounced their faith in their religions
and turned Islamite converts, still retained
some of their older religious
vfS\3oi,?tn\lsuo. traditions, particularly those
which were associated with
the callings by which they had been used to
earn their bread. The vernacular hymns to
Laksmi, which used to be sung by the Hindu
or Buddhist mendicants, are now sung by their
descendants — the Muhammadan Fakirs. The
charms for the cure of snake-bite practised by
the Hindu Kojlias (Bojha or Ojha, a corrupted
and abbreviated form of the word Upadhyaya ;
Ujjhaya and Ojha being the gradually changed
forms in Prakrit from which the Bojha
of Bengali has been derived) are still known
to a class of Muhammadans — the descendants
94 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
of the Hindus and Buddhist doctors of spells
and charms ; the traditions of tlie Hindus
with regard to the origin of fever, at one time
current among their peasantry, are now record-
ed by their descendants who are Muhammadans.
Other evidences on this line Avill not be difficult
to trace. The songs on Manasa Devi, on Kali
and even Krisna and R-adha, sung by the Hindu
and Buddhist professional singers, are still
current among a large Muhammadan populace
in Eastern Bengal where recruits to Islam
from the ranks of lay Hindus and Buddhists
ha^e been the Inrgest. Songs of Manasa Devi
are sung by professional Muhammadan minstrels
in Mj^mensing and other districts. The con-
verts have not been able to give up the traditions
of the older religions during the long centuries
of their renouncement of ' heathen faith,' and
the Bengali Muhammadan to-day, inspite of the
injunctions of his Molla, who is ever busy in
his efforts to root out every form of ' superstitious
beliefs,' has remained true to his instinct nurtur-
ed and developed in a different atmosphere
of religious and social life during long
centuries.
The second point that we want to establish
is that; the origin of their callings and of some of
the beliefs enumerated above, is to be traced to
a far remoter period than the 14th or 15th cen-
tury when most of the ancestors of the present
THE EARLY ORIGIN Or THESE TALES 95
Bengali Muhammadans embraced the Islamite
faith. During the 7 or 8 centuries that have passed,
the Hindu or Buddhistic elements in their forms of
belief have scarcely received any new light from
those older religions, ever-growing under fresh
social conditions and turning new leaves in the
history of their gradual advancement. The
Muhammadan peasantry inspite of keeping up
these faiths and ideas transmitted to them from
unrecorded times previous to their conversion,
are now solely under the guidance of the Mollas.
They have shut their gates against all fresh acci'e-
tions of faiths promulgated by the new Brahmin
of the Benaissance. The Puranas and the
Epics which have been so popularised among
the Hindu rural folk, by the new Brah-
min— the creed of devotion which has been
proclaimed with tlie sound of cymbal and tabor
to the peasantry for these five hundred years, —
have not made any perceptible impression on
the lay Muhammadan populace. It is the older
forms of faith anterior to the Hindu Renais-
sance, that have still some hold upon them, and
the origin of these, as I have already stated, is
to be traced to a period much earlier than the
14th or 15th century when the largest number
of these Bengalis accepted Islam. The linguistic
evidence and that of the forms of faith
traced in the hymns to Lakshmi and in the
Mantras and spells prove their affinity to those
96 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGll,
current amongst the Hindus and Buddhists of
Bengal mostly in the 10th and the 11th cen-
turies.
„. , r „ . , I^ut if they do still cultivate
Huidn folk-tales "^
amongst Muham- the older fomis of faith hy
songs, hymns and spells and hy
appeals to gods and goddesses of the heathen
pantheon, how could their women forget those
tales and fables which they had heard when
girls, recited to them by their grandmothers,
and which they themselves related to their
children when they in their turn became grand-
mothers themselves ? In fact all the folk-tales
current in this country during the 10th and 11th,
and even earlier centuries, they still tell to their
children, and in this matter the Hindu and
Buddhist elements form a great factor of
training of the Muhammadan child from its
birth. References to the Indrasabhji, appeals to
Manasa Devi and to SaraswatI, the goddess of
learning, are occasionally met with in those
fables ; and the Rajakumarl, the princess, and
her lover the prince — his friends, the minister's
son and the son of the prefect of police, are all
Hindus in these tales. The grandmothers in
Muhammadan harems still tell these stories,
which are as old as the 10th and the 11th
centuries, treasured up and transmitted to the
family by elderly women, and the continuity of
the strain from the time when they were jdIous
THE EARLY ORIGIN OF THESE TALES 97
Hindus clown to the time when they have been
]pious Muhammadans, has not been broken ; the
stories of Malanchamala, BhanumatI, Sakhisona,
Amritabhana, Chandravali, Malatikusum, Madhu-
mala and lots of others with which we are
all so familiar, are still told in Muhammadan
homes and listened to with eager attention
by the young Muhammadan peasantry of Bengal.
This fact was not at all known to us till recently,
and the discovery has been very interesting as it
shows that after the lapse of the 7 or 8 centuries
of their alienation from the older religion,
the sorrows of Kanchanmala and Sakhisona
still create throbbings in the hearts of
Muhammadan girls, as it does of their Hindu
cousins. This proves beyond doubt the origin
of the stories to be long before the Muhammadan
conquest and their proselytising activities in the
14:th and 15th centuries ; for these Hindu and
Buddhist tales could not have found entrance
into the Muhammadan harems after the light of
Islam had fallen on the Hindu homes. The very
form in which the stories are current among
Muhammadans show the earliest type, though
Arabic and Persian influences have, to a certain
extent, changed the original spirit of the tales.
13
CHAPTER IV.
Classifications of Muhammadan folk=taIes in Bengal.
The Muhammadan folk-tales that I have
discovered may he divided into three classes,
viz. : —
I. Those that relate to saintly men who
have been given the ranks of prophets in Hindu
and Muhammadan communities alike. These
men are called juj^s, such are Manik Pir and
Satya Pir, who have been now raised above the
level of mortals in popular legends, but were
once men of the flesh, and had, by reason of
their Hindu extraction, and of their catholicity
of views, won the respect of both Hindus and
Muhammadans, though they themselves seem to
have adopted the Muhammadan faith. These
legends were composed mostly during the 15th
and 16th centuries.
II. The folk-tales which relate to the
heroic deeds of those Muhammadan zealots who
carried the religion of Islam at the point of
their swords, and obtained celebrity by over-
throwing the Hindu faith and breaking the
Hindu temples and also by marrying some
noted beauties of the Hindu Zenana, after
having converted them to Islam. These stories,
CLASS I — SATYA PIR 99
some of which were derived from the Persian
and Arabic sources, relate to events from after
the 11th century.
III. Those that have been current in
Bengal from a remote period, and which the
Hindu converts to Muhammadan faith have not
been able to give up, though they all have
direct references to Hindu and Buddhist reli-
gions. These stories all belong to a period
much earlier than 1299 A.D. when Benf?al was
conquered.
We may still mention a fourth, viz., those
tales which tell us of the adventures of the
heroes and prophets of Arabia and Persia,
written in the vernacular of Bengal with a
very large element of admixture of Arabic and
Persian words. We shall not, however, concern
ourselves with these, but merely touch the
first and second classes of folk-tales, reservino*
a deservedly large space for the critical analysis
of class III of these tales, which directly falls
within our scope.
Class I — Satya Fir.
The first rank in the list of prophets com-
prised in No. I of the above classification
is occupied by Satya Pir, whom one legend
describes as son of a princess — probably the
100 FOLK LITERA.TURE OF BENGAL
daughter of Huslien Shah, the Emperor of
Gour.^ We gather this legend from two accounts
of the Pir, one by a Muhammadan poet named
Arif, and another by Sankaracharya. The manus-
cript of Sankaracharya's poem is dated 1062 of
the Bengali era,i.^., 1664 A.D. But there are other
legends also about Satya Pir which I shall
mention hereafter. In the 16tli century, the
Hindu poet Fakir Rama Kavibhusana, who ren-
dered some of our folk-tales into elegant Bengali
verse, gave an account of Satya Pir in animated
poetry, and since then many of our poets have
sung eulogies of this deified Pir in Bengali.
Gradually, however, the Muhammadan element
was totally ignored or eliminated from this tale
and Satya Pir became in the hands of our
Hindu poets, Satyanarayan or Yisnu himself,
of the Hindu pantheon, deriving all his glories
from the texts of the Revakhanda of the Skanda
purana. Some of our greatest poets have writ-
ten adulatory verses in honour of this deity,
who has now become a Hindu god in plain dhiiti
and chadara of the Bengalis, throwing off his
Muhammadan's trousers and Pakir's loose mantle.
And such we find him in the works of Bharata-
chandra and in the magnificent poem called the
Harilila by Jayanarayana Sen who flourished
in the 18th century. We have come across
^ The Bengali Encyclopedia — The Viswa Kosa, Part 18, p. 159,
See the words — ^^\^^\ TtfW I
SATYA PIR 101
many poets in the I7tli and 18th centuries writ-
ing in the strain of Fakir llama. But though
Satyanarayana enjoys a great popularity among
the rural people of Bengal and thougli he is
divested of his Muhammadan elements and is
now a Hindu god in every respect, yet curiously
the offering of flour and milk mixed with
banana and sugar, that he recives at the hands
of his worshippers, is not called hlioga, a name
by which such offerings are generally called in
the Hindu temples, but shUini, a name given to
offerings liy Muhammadan worshippers. This
certainly reminds one of that exotic element
which the Brahmin priests have always tried to
eliminate from their religious rites and func-
tions, but which in the present case has been
allowed to remain as if by oversight.
Many of the songs in praise of Satya Pir
have been written by Muhammadans themselves.
Some of these breathe a catholicity of views
which doubtless accounts for their being appre-
ciated by Hindus and Muhammadans alike. One
of these poems was written some time ago by
Krsnahari Dasa, about whom nothing is known ;
but it appears to me that though the writer's
name is Hindu, he was a Muhammadan ; for he
begins by invoking the aid of Allah and gives
an account -of the Vehest and of the prophet
in the devotional spirit of a devout Muhammadan.
The poem is printed in the right Arabic style,
102 FOLK LITERA.TURE OF BENGAL
beginning from where our books end and ending
where our books begin. The language has also
a considerable admixture of Persian and Arabic
words. This work which runs over 250 pages,
Royal 8vo, was printed at the Garanhata
Bengal Roy press, and is generally sold in
Muhammadan ])ook-shops. The name of the
book is Satya Pir or the story of Sandhyavatl.
It begins with an account of a Rajil named
Maya-Danava, who took it into his head to impri-
son and oppress all Muhammadan fakirs w^ho
visited his capital. This was reported to Allah
in Vehest by the angel Gabriel, and the matter
engaged the earnest consideration of His Divine
Majesty. It was eventually decided by the
counsel of the Rasul, that (Jhandbibi (who lived in
Vehest) should be ordered to be born on the
earth in fulfilment of a prophecy which had for
long ages been current in the Vehest, that Satya
Pir would be born on the earth in the womb of
Clmndbibi, in order to redress all human ills in
the Kaliyuga. Chandbibi was thus by Divine
commandment born as Sandhyavatl, and she re-
mained a maid all her life. Satya Pir was born of
her womb by Divine will, and was nourished by a
tortoise while an infant. As he grew up he gra-
dually began to show his superhuman powers.
There are many heroic achievements related of him
in this intersting poem, and not the least of
which is his encounter with Mansingh. This
OAZID ALl'S STORY 103
brings us to a definite historical time ; and as
we have already noticed another story which
says that Satya pTr Avas the son of Hushen
Shah's daughter, the two accounts practically
assign the same point of time to Satya pir's
birth. It will not, therefore, be out of mark to
say that the origin of the Satya pir cult is to
be looked for in the IGth century. Satya pir in
the poem of Krisnahari Das, whom we suspect
to have been a Muhammadan, though he retains
his Hindu name, described his deified prophet as
having in his hand a long stick called the asa ;
his hair is knotted, and on his forehead is
a large sandal mark ; in his left hand he carries
a flute ; he has sacred threads on his breast
and these are golden ; he wears the ochre-
coloured cloth of a yogi and has a chain for
belt. The only Muhammadan element in this
description is this chain which a fakir is often-
times seen to wear round his waist.
An interesting story is told of Satya pir and
of his power to help the honest
Oazid Ali's story.
people that adhere to him in
times of distress, by one Oazid Ali. I give a
summary of this story below.
In Chandan-nagar, in the district of Hooghly
there lived a merchant named
Sundara in the
charge of Suraati and Jayadhara who had three sons.
Knmati. mi • ti ^ -i
Tneir names were Madana,
Kamadeva and Sundara. The merchant at the
104 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
time of his death called his two sons Madana
and Kamadeva to his presence, and desired them
to take particular care of his youngest son
Sundara. They promised to do so. On the
death of their father, the two brothers started
on a sea-voyage leaving Sundara in the charge of
their wives Sumati and Kumati. As the three
brothers had lost their mother long ago, and
Sundara was a young boy and orphan, his
brothers made all sorts of arrangement for his
education and domestic comforts, before leaving
home. The author here gives a description of
the sea-voyage of the brothers detailing among
other things the particulars about the route to
the sea from Chandan-nagar.
The wives of the brothers, however, were
no human beings, but witches. Every night
they cast their spell on Sundara which made
him sleep soundly till the morning, and doing
this they left home and ascended a tree which
by their spell moved fast in the air and carried
them to Kaynur (Assam) which was their native
place. Sundara knew nothing of their doings,
for when he awoke in the morning, he found
his sisters-in-law at home as usual ; for they
returned home by the same vehicle before
the dawn, every day. One night when Sundara
slept quietly in his bed, Satya Pir appeared in
the room and made a sign by which the spell
of the witches was broken and he awoke. He
PLAN OF ASSASSINATION 106
found that the sisters-in-law were not at home,
so he spent the rest of the night in great
anxiety and fear. At the dawn of the day
the witches left aside their own forms and
returned home in those of human beings,
Sundara took them to task for lea vino; the house
at night and they were very much frightened
lest he should report this to their husbands
on their return. They were, however, shrewd
They plan his assassi- cuough to conccal their mental
confusion and produced some
pleas for explaining their absence at night.
They then fed him better than on other days,
and, when he fell asleep in the night, went
to the river-side and worshipped Kali with
incense, flowers, and sandal. They wanted the
boon of killing their brother-in-law and the
power was granted to them by Kali. They
returned home vaunting between themselves
that being witches of Kaynur they could put
men to death and restore them to life if they
so wished. They then cast their spell on the
sleeping youth who vomited blood and died in
their presence. Before death, he had asked of
Sumati and Kumati a cup of water for quench-
ing his thirst, but they smiled and ridiculed
him in his agonies, and looked at him, all the
while, with their malignant eyes. When the
young Sundara, who was exceedingly handsome,
died, they carried his body to a forest and left
14
106 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
it there to be eaten by jackals. Now Satya
Pir, who was at tliat time in tlie company of
his brother Amin, felt uneasy and perceived
through his all-seeing eyes what had happened,
he came to the spot and restored the dead youth
to life ; for Sundara was one of his most devoted
servants. The youth, on getting back his life,
said, "No more shall I enter a house in which my
sisters-in-law are witches. They will torture me
and kill me again ; let me follow you and serve
you the rest of my life. You
Restored to life by havc bccu my llfc-giver, and
Satya pir. tlicrc cau bc uo higher gratifica-
tion of my soul than being
permitted to offer my humble services to
you." But Satya Pir insisted on his return
home, saying, " Take my word, if they do
you any harm, I shall forthwith come to
your rescue." He was thus obliged to come back ;
the sisters-in-law, who seeing him revived felt a
thrill of horror in the heart of their hearts, out-
wardly showed no sign of their feelings, and
received him with kindness. In the night, how-
ever, they put their heads together to devise
means for killing him. This time they took a
sharp knife and cut his throat with it. They
then cut his body into seven parts and carried
the parts in a bag to a forest, where they
buried each of these in a different place.
The scrutinising eyes of Satya Pir, however,
TOWARDS KAYNUR 107
saw the foul deed through all its stages.
He secured the parts and
As s a s s i n a t i 071, i i ii i i ji
a second time. restoreu the murdered youth
to life. The disconsolate youth
could by no means he persuaded, this time,
to return home ; so the Pir took him to a tree
and ordered him to ascend it and keep himself
concealed in one of the hranches thickly over-
grown with leaves. Now the witches had this
time been perfectly satisfied that even the god
Satya Pir could not have possibly found out the
parts of Sundara's body and restored him to life.
In this hope they were confirmed by the fact that
Sundara did not return home that night. They
had in the meantime heard that the princess of
Kaynur would elect a bridegroom from amongst
her suitors tliat very night, and there would be
consequently a great festivity in the king's
palace there ; so they resolved to go there and
witness the ceremony, relieved as they were
from all anxieties about their brother-in-law
whom they now took for dead once for all. They
came to the self -same tree where Sundara lay
hidden, and ascending its top, cast their spell on
it ; the tree moved in lightning's speed through
the air and reached Kaynur in the twinkling of
an eye. One of the sisters had remarked on
ascending the tree, "sister, why does the tree seem
heavy this day ?" But the other made light of
it and no further notice was taken. After the
108 FOLK LITERATURE OE BENGAL
sisters had alighted, Sundara also got down and
Satya Pir led him to the Hall
Sundara goes to
Kaynur by means of wliero the pi'inces wcre as-
the magic tree. t i n ^
sembled, trom amongst whom
the king's daughter would elect her bridegroom.
Sundara took his seat among the princes and
Satya Pir, whom the king's daughter also wor-
shipped daily, privately instructed her to offer
the garland of flowers reserved for the bride-
groom to Sundara. The princess was right glad
to do so, as Sundara was the handsomest youth
in that assembly. In the night Sundara slept
with the princess in the same room, but towards
the last part of the night, he felt very uncom-
fortable at the thought that his sisters-in-law
would return home by means of the flying-
tree and he would be left alone in the palace of
the Kaynur king ; so having none of his own
people there, he would be taken for a vagabond,
and the princess would be ridiculed for her
choice. He therefore resolved to return home
with the two witches ; but before he left his
wife, he wrote in her apron all particulars about
himself, expressing his wish
hom^e" ^™ ^^ "^" that, should she feel miserable
at parting with him, she might
go to Cliandan-nagar with her royal father's
permission. He thus came back to the tree and
unperceived by his sisters-in-law, hid himself in
one of the leafy branches. A few moments
TURNED INTO A BIRD 109
after the witches also came tliere, and ascended
the top of the tree which moved under their
spell towards the city of Ohandan-nagar. They
alighted from the tree on reaching the city and
Sundara followed them. What was their dismay,
rage and vexation when they saw their hrother-
in-law return home in sound health and excellent
spirit.
They now resolved to get rid of him l)y some
means other than assassination. In the night
they tied a charm with the hair of the youth,
which effected his transformation to a Suka
(a bird). This done, they took the bird to a
great distance from home and let it fly in a
dense jungle. When the hunters came they
caught the bird and carried it to the sea-shore
for selling it to some merchant.
^^Transformed into a j^^^^ ^^ ^j^^^ ^-^^^ Madaua aud
Kama Deva, two brothers of
Sundara, were returning home with their ships
laden with riches. One of the brothers said
" Look there, a hunter goes with a Suka bird.
I remember that my brother Sundara had asked
me to get a Suka for him and it is such a beauti-
ful bird ! I shall purchase it at any cost for my
dear brother." The price was settled at one
thousand rupees and the brothers took the bird
with them little suspecting that it was their dear
brother himself transformed into that shape by
the spell cast on him by their wicked wives.
110 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
Meantime the princess of Kaynur awoke in
the morning and was greatly alarmed to find
that the bridegroom was not in the room. The
whole palace was in a state of agitation over
the mysterious disappearance of the merchant's
son. They now discovered the writings on the
apron of the princess, who
toclL'ui^rg™"'"" in«ifted o" h*"' '-^yal father's
giving her permission to go
to Chandan-nagor in quest of her hushand.
Several ships were made ready by the order
of the king and the princess was on board the
show-ship with her maids. The ships were
laden witli rich dowries and it took them several
days to reach Chandan-nagor, and when they
did so, the witches tried to turn her out on
various pretexts. But she preferred to stay
at her husband's liouse in spite of all dissuasions;
for Satya Pir in the shape of a white fly had
instructed her to stay there.
The l3rothers Madana and Kamadeva arrived
at the city a few days after.
brother^ °^ *''*' ''^'^'^' "T^^y ^^'^^'^ greatly grieved to
hear from their wives a story
about Sundara (which they had fabricated) to
the effect that Sundara's character had grown
very bad after their departure ; he mixed with
bad women and wandered away from home for
the last two months ; they could not get a clue
as to his Avhereabouts though they had tried
RESTOREB TO HIS OWN FORM 111
their best; a woman had in the meantime come
to their' home calling herself a princess and wife
of Sundara ; but of this marriage they knew
nothing. The brothers loved Sundara very
dearly and their minds were filled Avith grief
at this report. They joined their tears with
those of the princess whom they took to be
Sundara's wife inspite of the insinuations made
against her by Sumati and Kumati in their
report. The princess was presented with the
bird Suka which the brothers had brought for
Sundara. She wept as she caressed the bird
affectionately thinking it to be a thing which
rightly belonged to her husband. One day as
she touched the head of the bird, she discovered
something tied with its crest. This was
the spell of the witches by
hifh^^.C'"' «'•"«'' they liad changed
Sundara into a bird. Instantly,
as the spell \\as removed, her husband assumed
his own shape, and stood before her. He told
her all about the witchcraft of his sisters-in-law
which had changed him into a bird, but
whispering something into her ears, asked her
to tie the charm again with his forelock and
not to noise about the matter. She did as she
was bid and Sundara became a bird as'ain.
Next day she invited her two brothers-in-law
to a dinner. She said that she would cook the
meal herself to serve them. They came to^dine
112 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
at the usual hour but were surprised to find
three seats and three sets of golden plates and
cups with food before them. They were only
two ; who was the third one invited ? The
princess appeared before them at this stage
and said " You two are here, but Avhere is your
youngest brother gone ? call him to dine with
you." The brothers thought that the princess'
head had gone wrong owing
uJo^n. "'"*'^''''' ''"'^ to her grief, and they wept at
what she said, and would not
touch the meal. But the youngest lady of the
house insisted on their calling their brother
aloud and asking him to come and dine with
them. Weeping they called out for their brother,
only for quieting one whose brain, they thought,
had gone out. But she had removed the charm
from the bird's head and as soon as Sundara, who
was himself again, heard the call of his brothers,
he came out and joined them. Their happiness
knew no bounds at meeting one whom they had
given up for lost. After the dinner Sundara told
the story of her sisters-in-law and convinced his
brothers that they were witches by many proofs.
Upon this they ordered a big hole to be dug in
their courtyard and told their
The puiiishineut. . Ji i i i
Wives that as robbers were re-
ported to infest that locality, they meant to put
all their riches in a secure place under-ground
and they had thus made a deep hole in the
ANOTHER DEIFIED SAINT ll'^>
coiu't-yard of their house. The two wives eagerly
wanted to see the hole wliich would contain the
wealth of the family. But as they stood near
it in an inclining posture to look down into it
they were pushed down from behind ; and as they
fell into the pit, it was immediately tilled up
Avith earth and they were thus buried alive.
The two brothers next married two very accom-
plished and beautiful girls of Kaynur, and we
need not say that in the marriage settlements
the princess had taken an active part. A
smni on a very grand scale was offered to
Satya Pir for befriending the family in their
distress.
The story of another deified saint.
Another saint who has also been deified by
the Hindus and Mahomedans alike, second only
to Satya Pir in popular esteem — whose achieve-
ments and deeds have been extolled in many
rural legends of Bengal — is Manik Pir, a
Mahomedan Fakir. Among many works written
about this saint we shall confine ourselves
to the account given of him by Munshi
Pijiruddin.
Gaza and Manik were the twin -sons of Saha
Karaaruddin by Dudh Bibi. The Saha was in
15
114 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
prosperous circumstances, and his wife Dudh Bibi
was a remarkable beauty. Tlie
Piiuracldin's version. ^
twin sons were A^ery handsome,
and Hira, the maid- servant of the house, one day
told her mistress Dudh Bibi that she should be
thankful to God for giving her
Dadh Bibi's piide ^^^eh lovclv baWes. But Dudh
and miSTortunes. k lw-jj. ^t
Bibi said " the babies are hand-
some because 1 am handsome ; don't you see they
are exact copies of myself ? where do you find
the ffrace of God in it ? If I and my dear
husband live, we shall have many more cViildren
like these." Hira did not like this reply, but
did not dare contradict this blasphemous speech.
But God Almighty heard all that she said and
was wroth. Gabriel, by divine command, was
appointed to punish the wicked
Defiant attitude and ]3^^(|li ]3i]3i ^y^Q J^^d belittled
the punishment. ^
liis Divine Majesty. She got
a severe fever and Saha Kamaruddin, when
advised by Hira to pray to God for her re-
covery, said " I shall cure the fever by my own
power and by the help of the physicians."
Allah heard the boast and was wroth. Gabriel
by his command afflicted him also with fever.
Kamaruddin went in quest of a physician and
Satan led him to a wine-shop. He drank pro-
fuselv at the Evil One's instigation, came home
and gave some wine to his wife also. This
caused an aggravation of their disease and they
A MEAN JEALOUS if 115
gradually lost their wealth and were reduced to
poverty. When verging' on starvation they
found themselves compelled to sell Manik, one
of their twin sons, only five years old, to
a man named Eadarjanda, a merchant, for
ten rupees.
Now Eadarjanda, making over the beautiful
child to the care of his wife Surath Bibi, went
to a distant country for trade,
meSnt. '°^'' '" '' ^ud camc back home after
12 years. By this time Manik
had 2:roAvn to be a handsome youth, and Badar-
janda on returning home found his wife in the
company of the handsome-looking young man
whom he could not recognise to be the child
that he had bought for ten rupees before he had
left home. He called in question the propriety
of his wife's conduct in receiving an unknoAvn
young man into the house with familiarity. And
inspite of his wife's reminding him of his having
made over the child to her charge when he was
only live, and of her having nursed and brought
him up ever since that time as her own son, the
infuriated merchant put the
A meaii suspicion youtll iuto a WOOdcU ])0X and
iuid Manik tlu-owu in- , r. , •, -\ir- •^ i
to tire. set lire to it. Manik prayed
to Almighty Allah to save him
from the danger, and He took compassion on
the innocent youth and sent Gabriel to render
the help he needed. The tire burnt not the box
il6 FOLK LITERATURE 0¥ EENGAL.
thoug'li it was fed by oil ; and finally when the lire
Avas extino^uished the wooden box was found intact.
But what was the astonishment of Badarjanda
when on opening the box he found Manik in good
health and spirits in the attitude of prayer like
a second Prahlada of the Hindu legends. Surath
Eibi, whose grief had known no bounds, for she
had loved Manik as her son, now came with open
arms to receive the youth, and Badarjanda him-
self felt greatly repentant for his act. But Manik
said, " No more, dear parents, for, though I am
not your son by birth, I have ahvays looked upon
you Avith the affection which only a child may
feel for his parents. No more shall I stay in
this world to suffer miseries from which even
innocence cannot escape. The
G"n'.Uu™rrFa«';f Lord Ims shown His mercy to
me, and Gabriel has lighted the
torch to guide my path of life ; I belong to them
and to none else." Saying so he took a staff in
his hand, and put on the ochre-coloured cloth of
an ascetic and saying " Blessed be the name of
Allah " left the house as a mendicant. God took
mercy on him and gave him supernatural
powers.
Prom that time he gave many proofs of his
miraculous power. He did so fii'st of all in the
house of a llaja whose queen Ran j ana had treat-
ed him rudely. He had gone to the palace for
begging alms but the queen had turned him out
RAN J ana's MISFOllTUNi^^S ll?
and when the I'akir liad spoken true av ords with-
out flattery, the angry queen
Jlanjana's punishment ^^,^^^^^^1 o^j^ qI" her maids to kill
and eventual restora- "
tion tu her f-uocl for- j^-j^ ^^^^ ^J^^, ^p^j^ j^y ^ strokc
tunes by tlie grace ot ■•• "
t^'«i''i- of her sword. The weapon
however did not do any harm to the Eakir hut
killed the maid-servant who wielded it. The
Fakir disappeared from the spot after having
pronounced a curse on the queen. The curse
Avas that the queen would wander in the forests
for twelve years, forsaken by all and suiter great
miseries. iVs a matter of course the queen
suffered all that the prophet had said, and was
eventually restored to her good fortunes by
Manik Pir's kindness, Avhom she had propitiated
by repentance and prayers. This part in the story
is an exact repetition of a part of an old folk-
tale which we find recorded in the story of Malati
Kusuma Mala compiled by a Muhammadan writer
and also in that of Sanklia Mala edited by Dakshi-
naranjan Mitra Majumdar. The only difference
between the above two tales and that of Manik
Pir, so far as this portion is concerned, is of
course that the merchant's wife (in the above two
stories she is not a queen but a merchant's wife)
is restored to her former good fortunes by other
agencies than the intervention of Manik Pir.
The chief act of Manik Pir, however, by
which he revealed himself as an authorised
prophet of God, is his treatment of some of the
118 FOLK LITER \TUK,E OF BENGAL
Goalas of the city of Virat. Here is the account
(considerably abridi^-ed in translation from the
original), given by Munslii Pijiruddin.
" By the command of Gabrielthe, Pir came
to the house of one Kinu Ghosh in A^irat Nagar.
Kinu had a brother named Ktinu, and they be-
longed to the milkman caste. A short while
before the Pir went there, the
The Gliosli-tamily.
brothers had gone to their cow-
shed to bring milk. Their dairy contained a
considerable stock of milk, curd and butter,
and they made immense profits out of their
sale ; so that Kinu and Kanu Avere noted in
the city for their great wealth by the favour of
tlie Almighty. They had besides many cows and
bullocks. One of the brothers had a son, who
was handsome as a cherub. Coming to the door
of the house the Pir cried aloud, " Lai Laha" and
called the mother of the tAvo traders from out-
side. She sat inside the house, and hearing the
loud call, said to a maid-servant, " Just go and see
who calls me so loudly at the door." The maid-
servant approached the Pir, and asked him as to
what he Avanted. The Pir, Avho Avas accompanied
by his brother Gaja, said in reply, " We are
Eakirs and have not tasted any food for these
seven days, if you Avill give us
wictd aci"' ''""" some milk and curd, we shall
satisfy our appetite and bless
you and go aAvay." The maid-servant reported
THE OLD LADV'S AA'ICKEDNESS 111)
this to the old lady, but she instructed her to say
that the brothers had gone to bring- milk, and
there was nothing at that moment in the house to
ofVer th-em. Upon which Manik Pir told the
maid servant, " The mistress of the house tells a
lie ; there are 20 lbs. of milk and 40 lbs. of curd
in the house at this moment." The maid-servant
reported it again to her mistress, who became
angry and said, " Why should we be tormented
in this way early in the morning Avhen we have
not yet commenced our domestic duties. If
the prophets can say what is in the house and
what is not, without seeing with their own eyes,
why do such big people wear rags and live by
begging ?" Saying so she came out and asked
" Why do you not believe my statement that
there is nothing in the house to offer you?"
Manik Pir said, " There are 20 lbs. of milk and
40 lbs. of curd in the house. Why do you tell a
lie ?" The old woman was very angry and said,
"Let me see hoAV truthful you are. There stands
a cow, milk it as much as you like, and satisfy
your hunger." Now the coav the old Avoman
showed to the J^^akirs was barren, having never
given birth to a calf, but by the help of Gabriel
and the will of Almighty God Manik Pir touched
the nipples of the animal and profuse quantities
of milk came out to the Avonder of the old lady
and her maid-servant. When, hoAvever, he
Avanted a pitcher, the old woman gave him one
120 FOLK LII'ERATIJJIE OF BEN&A.L
which leaked in a hundred places, but the Pir
filled that pitcher and several others which had
similar holes at the bottom witli milk, and not a
drop was lost. As Manik Pir milked the cow,
two of her nipples gave milk and two butter,
and seven big pitchers were lilled with these.
The old woman carried them to her house and
did not give a drop of them to Manik or his
brother Gaja. Sanaka, lier daughter-in-law and
wife of Kinu Ghosh, said, " How is it that not
only did you not give any food to the Pakirs from
the house, but you have taken away all the milk
that they have got by their miraculous power ?"
The angry mother-in-law exclaimed, " You call
it miracle, that is nonsense. They secretly got
the milk from their house and they have pro-
duced it here. How can it be believed that
a barren cow will yield so much milk and
butter ? The two Pakirs are great impostors."
The young Avife said, " If they got it from
their own home, it is their property ; why then
have you usurped it?" 'J he old woman
said nothing, but left the place evidently
annoyed with her daughter-in-law. Now Sanaka,
the good wife, took with her a small quantity
of milk and offered it to the Pir and
his brother. They drank milk and Manik
touched the head of tlie young wife and blessed
her. Just at that moment the old lady came
up, and very much resented the conduct of her
FORTUNES LOST AND FOUND 121
daughter-in-law. Not satisfied with merely
scolding her, she ran out of the house and met
her son Kanu Ghosh, and said, "Just come, and
see your wife's conduct. Two young Fakirs have
come, and she is very jolly in tlieir company."
Kanu Ghosh came in all haste and struck the
Pir on the head with his stick. The PJr threw
his turhan on the earth and disappeared with his
brother. The turban became a cobra and it stuns:
Kanu Ghosh who fell instantly
cobra^"" ^*^^""" ^ "^ ^ senseless on the ground. Sanaka,
the good wife, was struck with
great grief, her husband lieing taken for dead ; but
the Pir took pity on her and came there in the
guise of a Bralimin who professed to be a healer
of snake-bite. The old woman promised him half
of lier property if he could restore her son Kanu
Ghosh to life. But when the
Restored to life. . n i- i
Brahmm actually did so, she
fainted in fear lest the physician should lay claim
on one half of her property. The Brahmin, who
was no other than Manik Pir himself, went away
greatly enraged at her conduct, and, as a result,
the cows and bullocks of their family-dairy died in
the course of a week, and all their property was
destroyed. Kanu Ghosh was in great distress ; his
wife Sanaka told him that all
They lose and re- ^^^^ ^y^^ ^|^g ^q jjjg mother's mis-
gam their lortunes.
behaviour towards the Pakir.
Kanu asked her to seek him out and propitiate
16
122 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
by all means. Eor six days Sanaka sought him,
observing fast and vigil, and on the seventh day
the Pir, who had known all about her wanderings
in search of him and waited only to try her
patience and devotion, appeared before her. She
fell prostrate before him, and prayed him to save
the family from utter ruin. The Pir came to
the house and, by his blessings, the cows and
bullocks that had died long ago revived and
" began to cut grass with their teeth." The
Ghoshes were restored to their former prosperous
condition. Kanu Ghosh was highly gratified
and presented the Pir with a coav and ten bighas
of rent-free land. But the Pir said, " God
Almighty has made me a Pakir. What shall I
do w4th your presents ? I do, Jiowever, accept
them. But return them to you." He ordered
all Goalas thenceforth to offer the first milk of
a cow, which would bear a calf, to the earth.
His glory had now spread far and wide, and he
departed from the house of the milkmen after
having blessed them.
Who this Manik Pir was is a difficult pro
blem to solve, shrouded as the account of him is
in all manner of rural fiction. His own name and
that of his brother are Hindu ; his mother's name
Dudh Bibi is also Hindu ; the maid-servant of
the house was Hira, and that is also a Hindu
name. His father alone bears a Mahomedan
name. Prom this we can only guess that he
PIONEERS OF ISLAMITE FAITH 123
may have been of Hindu extraction ; or more
probably he may have been born in a family
converted from the Hindu to Islamite faith.
The anecdote which describes
Historical side to- , . .
tally obscured by ius restormg the dead cows and
^^^^^ ''' bullocks to life may be a legend
based upon some healing* power that he possess-
ed in regard to the diseases of the sacred animals
of the Hindus. This probably explains the
reason of the extraordinary respect paid to him
by the rural agricultural Hindus who are wor-
shippers of cows. But all this is a mere guess.
In the legendary account that we have, he does
not appear as a mortal but as one Avhose acts are
all super-human. Inspite of all these legends,
however, he is not an imaginary character and
must have lived as a saint or prophet in Bengal
sometime after the Muhammadan conquest. We
have already noticed that a portion of an old
folk-tale is now found dovetailed to the account
of his life in the popular legend.
Class II. Ploueers of Islamite faitJi.
We now come to a consideration of the
second class of the folk-legends according to
our classification. These relate to the pioneers
of Islamite faith, who made it the mission of
their lives to car)'y the Koran in one hand and
124 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
the s\\ ord in the other as alternatives ; those
that declined to accept the former were put
to the sharp edge of the latter. There are
many sush tales in the vernacular literature
of Bengal, Avritten by Muhammadans, in a
style bearing in a very considerable degree
an admixture of Arabic and Persian Avords.
We give below the summary of a typical story
— the legend of Hanif's victory over the
Kafirs and his marriage Avith the accomplished
daughter of Raja Bar una.
The story of the Frincess 3Iaitlla.
In the city of Medina, there once lived All the
famous wrestler. He married a far-famed beauty
named Hanifa. They got a son whom they
called Hanif . This son gi-ew to be a great wrest-
ler and hero in his youth, so much so that no
one ventured to challenge him to a fight. He
waged war against the ' Kafirs ' and made many
of them converts to Islam.
Now one dav he heard of a great Hindu kino?
named Barujia. It Avas report-
Hanif goes on an ex- -!->_•_ • . .it
pedition against Raja cu that the Iia]a Avas invinci blc
^^ "'■'''■ in Avar, and that he had a
daughter whose l)eauty was unmatched in the three
worlds. This report inflamed the imagination of
Hanif — the wrestler. He asked permission of Ali,
Hanif'« march 125
his father to tight the Eaja. Ali referred him to
Fathema Bibi, and she ajjaiii to bis mother Hanifa.
Fathema said that Hanifa knew everything
about the Raja, so if she granted him the permis-
sion, there could be no hindrance in the way.
Hanif {accordingly called on his mother and
sought her permission to tight the invincible
Raja and win the hand of his handsome daughter,
the princess Mallika, after having defeated him
in the open field. The mother opposed, saying
that the Raja was a very great hero and that
there was every chance of Hanif being killed in
the field should he trv to match his strensTth
against the Raja. But Hanif, Avho was full of fire
to punish the infidels, was not to be dissuaded
by fear. So the mother was obliged to give him
the permission.
Hanif gathered a great force. He took with
him a large number of Avar-horses and camels
outside the city of Medina and the people of that
city blessed him before he departed, saying " May
you succeed in the cause of the propagation of
of Islam."
Now the Raja's daughter Mallika was not
only the handsomest woman
Not only handsome i • i •
but possessed of great that livcd lu the world at the
physical strength. j • i i^ n r-
time, but was possessed oi a
herculine strength of body. She used to go
a-hunting in the remotest parts of her royal
father's dominions, and kill tigers with her own
126 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
hands without using weapons. With her short
sword that hung by her side, she Avould some-
times strike wild elephants across the root of
their trunks which she Avould cut off Avith one
blow. The animals turned from her, fell down
and expired.
When she came of a fit age, her father
thought of sending (match-makers) ghatakas
all over the neighbouring countries in quest of a
suitable bridegroom, whose personal qualifications
and social status would be worthy of the gifted
princess. But she told her father, " Not only
are these qualifications required, but the prince
who will seek my hand must bind himself by a
promise that he will conquer me in fight. If he
can do so, right glad shall I be to offer my hands
to him ; if not, him shall I kill with my own hands ;
let this be the condition, for it will preserve me
„ „ v c, o from an undesirable rush of
How the suitors were
^^'^^^^^- suitors." And the messengers
were sent out accordingly to proclaim these con-
ditions to the intending bridegrooms. Many a
prince came and fought with Mallika and at the
end was beheaded by her hands ; and when a
prince struck with terror tied from her presence,
she would pursue him till she caught him by the
hair of his head, and would indignantly cry out
"You coward of a prince, you coveted my hand,
here take the reward " and saying so she struck
him down with her sword and killed him on the
UMHAR — THE GENERAL 127
spot. So the wliole of the neighbouring kingdoms
were filled with a feeling of great terror, and no
prince dared to approach Baruna as suitor for
his daughter's hand.
Now Hanif's messenger came to tlie capital
umharin ti,e Conn ^^ ^^^ll'"^ Baruna ; he was called
of Raja Baruna. Umhar, the wrcstlcr ; he wore
skin trousers, carried a shield of paper on his
back and held a wooden sword in his hand ; he
had besides a bow with a quiver that had no
arrows in it, and he limped as he walked. When
he came to the great audience-hall of Raja
Baruna, he did not bow to the king, nor observe
any form of courtesy current in the court. The
Raja was angry and the courtiers hissed, saying
that the unmannerly fellow should be punished
for his folly. The messenger said "I am a servant
of God — the one God who reigns supreme. I will
not bend my head before a Kafir." Then the
whole court cried out "Lo, a vile Turk has
come, purify the city by sprinkling holy water
over it and wash the temples with cow-dung and
sandal-paste. The city is defiled by his presence."
" Kill him," " Kill him" ran the cry every-
where; but nobodv could see hitn, beino^ made
invisible by the power of the Lord in whom he
believed. He remained there unseen by others.
After a short while, however, he appeared to
the view of the court, and, approaching the king,
gave him a blow. And when the guards again
128 FOLK LITERA.TURE OF BENGAL
Iried to catch hold of him, he disappeared mys-
teriously as he had done before.
The king was perplexed and when Umhar,
the messenger of Hanif, became visible again,
he did not try to seize or molest him bnt asked
what he wanted ; upon this he delivered a letter
from Hanif addressed to Raja Baruna. The
letter ran thus — " You king Baiuna, abandon
your belief in false gods and goddesses and
become a convert to Islam. And give your
daughter Mallik^i in marriage with me. If you
do not do so I will come to
Hanif's letter to i • i ^•^ ii i
Raja Baruna. Jour kingdom like a thunder-
bolt, destroying your temples
and seizing your property, and I will take away
Mallika by force from the royal harem. So be
advised, and, with the Avliole of the citizens
accept Islam and secure your place in Behest
and be on terms of amity with me."
The letter was read aloud and hisses of
indignation and cries of " Kill the upstart, the
vile Turk " was heard all around. The R-aja
whose face showed the deep purple of anger,
exclaimed, " Messenger, tell your chieftain, the
vile Turk, that if he comes with his force here,
he will find his burial here, and none of his
followers will be allowed to go back to his native
country. With my whole city I will observe
fast for three days for expiating the sin of seeing
you, a jaixuKi, in this city." The messenger
FIRST day's battle 129
departed, and in tlie meantime the king said
to his courtiers, " The Turks will be in this
city in a short time ; they will desecrate the
temples and throw cow-bones and beef in the
sacred places. We cannot allow it. Let us
go forth with our army to the open ground in
the outskirts of our city.
Prepaiatious for a Thcrc shall wc meet the foe."
iiKirch to meet the foe
outside the city. Saying SO lie ordered a general
march of his army to a place
20 miles off from the capital. He had 10,000
trained elephants, and an immense number of foot-
soldiers, besides his invincible cavalry, dreaded
by the kings of other countries. An extensive
field was fixed as the battle-ground where flags
were raised in several spots with the name of
the Kins: Baruna inscribed on them. Hanif
met him in that field. In the morning of the
first day with the sound of the war-drums his
soldiers marched to meet those of the Eaja.
Hanif's general Umhar did great havoc in
the enemy's ranks. In the
and^heflTghf^' '''""'" eveuiug when the drums
sounded the signal to close the
battle Raja Baruna called his generals and
ordered them to assemble together at one point
the next day, with elephants carrying maces by
their trunks and with chargers going ahead of
them ; and thus united, to make a rush at the
enemy and crush them by sheer dint of
17
130 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
their number. "Desultory fight at several
points " his Majesty said " will do us no good.
All, all must attack simultaneously." The next
day this was done but the general for that day
on the side of Hanif was Ali Akbar, whose
nerves seemed to be made of steel. He made
even greater havoc in the Raja's army, than
Umhar had done the day before. On the third
day the Raja himself led the army and fought
with Hanif a hand to hand fight, but could not
maintain his position, so that in the evening
he had to make a precipitous retreat with his
army and come back to his capital, losing the
finest of his cavalry, a large number of ele-
phants and foot-soldiers.
But when Mallika, the princess heard of
this disaster, she trembled in
goesTo%\t. ' ' ^ anger, thinking of the insult
and loss done to her country
by the Turks. She armed herself then and
there, and rode a horse, the speed of which
could be compared to that of the wind alone.
She met Hanif in the field and cried out,
"You vile Turk, do youknow that with my
own hands I have beheaded many a prince,
so that young men of the neighbouring aristo-
cracy shudder at my name for fear ? You
have come with a vile proposal and know not
my lineage and qualifications. Here do I spit
at your proposal. But I will not leave this
MALLIKA AND HANIP 131
field, until I have killed you with my own
hands as I have done others." Hanif smiled
and said, '' Better woidd be your place in the
harem, from Avliich I could pick you up as one
plucks a flower from the garden. Your father
would have been well-advised to deliver you to
me ; for I am really sorry for the sanguinary
battle that raged here for the last three days and
the loss of lives caused by it. Be advised, read the
kahna, give up ghost-worship ; you will be
happy in this world, and, following Islam, you
will secure permanent happiness in Behest."
The princess did not wait to listen to a further
eloquent discourse from the enemy, but hit him
on the head with a dart which tore his tur-
ban and gave a rude shock to his head that
reeled for a moment. Hanif felt in the force
of the dart that his antagonist, though looking
like a tender flower, really possessed a mascu-
line strength and might prove to be more than
a match for him. Eor the whole day they
fought ; they fought unceasingly with guns,
arrows, spears and maces, but the hero of
Medina could not conquer his lotus-eyed op-
ponent. And when the war drum in the
evening announced the close of all action for
the day, Hanif returned to his camp with eye-
brows knit in wild astonishment over wha.t
he had experienced during the day and
for which he Avas not prepared. He was
132 FOLK LITERATUHE OF BENGAL
determined to gain the woman for his bride ;
and love evermore gave liim strength to
strike where he would fain pay the tribute
of worship. The next day the fight was re-
sumed. The princess rose from her bed first,
came to the field first and Avas the first to
challensre her antao-onist. That day Hanif
killed the horse of Mallika, but she rode an-
other horse and showed no sign of losing heart.
For twenty days they fought, still Hanif could
not conquer her. She looked soft like a shiri-
sha flower, but at the time of battle seemed like
a marble statue on whom the unceasing gust
of rain-like arrows and gun-shots left no trace.
On the twenty-first day Hanif said, " Look here,
princess, you have fought enough and a liar
shall I be, if I do not say that
The duel. I havc admired your strength
no less than your beauty, both
of which are more than what I have seen in
others. To-day I offer you a challenge, which
should you accept, the close of this fight might
be expedited. Here do I lie on the ground
with my back above and hands clasped
below. If vou have streno-th enousjlh, fair
princess, raise me up from the ground and
throAv me away as one would do a ball. If
you cannot, place yourself in the same position
and I will lift you up and throw you away."
Mallika, the undaunted woman, accepted the
THE CONQUEST 133
challenge. Ilamf placed himself on the ground
Avitli his back above and hands clasj^ed below
his l)reast. And she tried all her strength to
lift him up. She could not do it first time ;
her face reddened with toil ; she tried a second
time, and on her brows stood big drops of sweat,
but she failed to move that body lying like a
hard block of stone. And she tried thrice, she
applied all her might ; not an inch she could
move him and she stood exhausted and ashamed
■ failing in her attempt. Then she placed her-
self in the self-same position, with her back
above and breasts below, and between them and
the earth she clasped her both hands in firm
fists. Hanif seized her body, covered with armour,
and applying all his strength threw it up with
such a force that for a moment she looked like
a ball high in the air, and then fell. The fall
would have reduced her to atoms, had not
Hanif, whose love for her had not ceased but
grown from day to day, caught her half-way
and placed her on his knees. With a look of
tender love he watched her, for she had fainted,
and sprinkled scented water on
111 the embrace of a , .1 i i
Turk. her eyes. As she recovered her
senses, she found herself in the
embrace of a Turk, and had no other alternative
left than to consent to be his bride.
Now the King Baruna had heard of this
disaster and stood at the main gate of his
134 FOLK LiTEllATURE OF 13ENGAL
capital, determined to oppose the aggressive
Islamite force and to die rather than yield.
Ali Akbar, the general of Hanif, after a severe
fight -caught hold of him and brought him
before his master, bound in chains. Hanif
said " I have no mind to molest you further.
jNIucli blood has been shed and
c„„v!;:uot,r"" I «'ill "ot wiUingly do a
cruel act to the parent of my
consort. I charge you to accept Islam, to
demolish the temples of evil-spirits that you
have erected in your city, calling them gods.
I charge you further to sanction my marriage
with your daughter and tell your citizens to
read the kalma, erect mosques and do as our
Mollas bid. If you will do all this, I shall
restore you to your kingdom and revere you as
father ; or else you know by bitter experience
Avhat will befall your kingdom." And the king
Baruna did all this, not daunted by fear, nor
for saving his life, nor for any love for Islam,
but for the shame that his beloved daughter
had accepted a Turk for husband. The shame of
this would be on him, even if he gained victory,
and make him an outcast and given up by his
kith and kin.
HTSTOmCAL BALLADS 135
This tale so often told in the vernacular
verse, has been retold by Munshi Aminuddin —
a native of Kharda, though he tells us that his
version is the first. Hanif's adventurous life,
his heroism in the field and carrying off of hand-
some girls from Hindu homes, have formed
the themes of many vernacular poems. We
have the story of his love with
other stories ii- Jayffuu lu animated Benafali
liistrating the chivalr}- * " ^
of Hanif. vcrsc, auothcr with Samrita-
bhana and a third with
Sonadhan. These poems show much fire of
enthusiasm for the Islamite propaganda which
characterised the 11th and 12th century-
Moslem zealots. Love was subservient to the
zeal for propagation of faith and iconoclasm.
These legends and popular tales, our Muhamma-
da7i brethren derived from other sources than the
indigenous, and the contrast between these and
the Hindu and Buddhistic stories, which are
still found current amongst Muhamadans, is
obvious ; the latter are characterised by quiet virtues
and martyrdom at the altar of domestic duties.
Along with these tales of heroism and
love-making of the pioneers of Islamite con-
quests, may be classed historical ballads and
songs Avhich have formed a
Historical ballads. part of the popular literature of
this country. These have not
reached the level of decent literature owing
186 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
to the crude language in which they are couched
being composed mostly by the illiterate rural
people. But some of these songs contain authentic
accounts of some local historical events, or
sketches of some noted village-
The chondiuni's cliicfs. Such for iustaiice is the
Larayi.
Chaudhuri's Larayi, a book
written in the 18th centurv, descrihing: a skirmish
between two zemindars of the Noakhali district.
But " Samsher Gazir Gana," a ballad of Samsher
Gazi, is the most remarkalile of this class of songs.
There is not much of exaggeration in the tale, and
the author whose name I do not find in the book
must have taken a good deal of notes and col-
lected considerable historical materials before
he began to write the book.
The song of Samsher j^ ^^,^^ AVrittcU UOt long after
1752 A.l). when the Gazi was
murdered and has lately lieen published by my
friend Maulvi Lutful Kliabir from Noakhali.
The book discloses a condition of the country
that existed before the battle of Plassy, showing
how, with the decadence of the central Mogliul
power at Delhi, the local chiefs tried to assert
their independence in various parts of the coun-
try. But they could not often cope with the
gangs of robbers and leaders of bandits who in-
fested the land, taking advantage of the relaxa-
tion in administration — the natural sequel of the
fall of a great monarchy.
STORY OF SAMPHER GAZI 137
The Gazi was the son of a poor man, who
verging on the point of starvation with his
family, had left his native home in the village
of Kachua, in the Tipperah district and came
to a place called the Dak-
p J'^'drfven'bf po- si^ sika— furthcr south. Here
verty to Nasir..ddin's ^,^ ^J^g Qg^^l's father, Stolo
jurisdiction, ' '
a few long gourds when he
saw no way to provide food for his son and
nephew Sadi. But he was caught in the act,
and taken before the zemindar Nasiruddin.
Here he made a confession and told the story
of the extreme poverty from which his family
suffered . The boys were without any food
whatever for two or three days and on point of
death, and seeing no way out from this peril,
he had taken away seven long gourds without
the permission of their owner. The pathetic
story moved Nasir, who paid the owner the
price of the gourds, and made provision for Piru's
family.
Nasir Mahammad, the Zemindar had ten
anna shares in the extensive zemindary of
Parsjannah Daksin sika; the remaining six
annas belonged to Ratan Chau-
How Nasir s father ^i^^^^y g, natlvc of Khaudal in
got the zemindary. t/ '
Tipperah. Nasir's father Sada
Gazi, w^ho was an ordinary peasant, had found
18
138 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
valuable stones in a copper vessel under the
earth when ploughing land. He took the
vessel to Jagat Manikya, King of Tipperah, and
made him a present of this valuable property.
Whereupon the Raja was very much pleased
with him and gave him the zemindary of Dak-
sin sika. Nasir Mahammad, after his father's
death, inherited this property.
Here under the patronage of Nasir, Piru
throve well. His son Samser Gazi and nephew
Sadi read in the same school with the sons of
the zemindar, who treated them with affection
and kindness. In this school the
gradually ''show exta! tcachcrs wcrc struck uot ouly by
power!'^ ^^^''"''^ t^6 Pi'oof of the singular intel-
lectual power and manly valour
showed by the Gazi but by the extraordinary
physical strength which his cousin Sadi dis-
played ; this appeared more than human to
everyone ; for, it is said, Sadi strangled a big
tiger to death without using any weapon.
About this time the zemindar trusted the Gazi
with the collection of rents of his landed pro-
perty at Kud Ghat. Here the Gazi found a
considerable number of robber-gangs looting the
property of the ryots and doing many other acts
of violence upon them. He collected a force
and held these gangs in check for some time ;
and at last his cousin — Sadi defeated them in
several skirmishes and brought them fully under
THE MARRIAGE PROPOSAL L'59
his control. The robbers were allowed their lives
and freedom on two conditions, viz.: (I) that
they would not farther do any act of oppression
on the ryots of Nasir Mahammad, (2) that they
should pay half the amount of the wealth they
might loot elsewhere, to the Gazi and acknow-
ledge him as their leader. They agreed to do
so and the Gazi came in possession of extensive
riches by this means. He and his cousin Sadi
found their position quite impregnable in that
locality. And being inspired by one Goda Hossain
Khondakar, whom they re-
They hold the robber- ^ ^ _ ''
gangs in check and gardcd as their religious guide
become their head.
and preceptor, they now
aspired at far greater achievements than what
the sons of poor men generally dream of. The
Khondakar had prophesied that the Gazi would
one day become the King of Tipperah.
Nasir Mahammad, the zemindar, who had
treated them with such kindness and under whom
they still served, had a beautiful daughter and
Sadi suggested that the Gazi
,S of':,Sr«J''°- should Stand a suitor for her
hand. But the Gazi said, it
was impossible. Nasir's family-status was much
higher, and their own status in society was low.
Secondly they were picked up as street-beggars
by Nasir and given education and position mere-
ly out of charitable considerations. A proposal
like the one suggested would be highly offensive
140 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
to Nasir and prove to the world that the Gazi
and his cousin were ungrateful. But Sadi per-
sisted, and the Gazi, half in fear and half in
anxiety to please Sadi, sent a messenger to his
master proposing the marriage. Nasir took it
as a regular insult and felt that the kindness he
had shown to the Gazi and his family was
thrown away to ungrateful men, who might
afterwards prove his deliberate enemies; a pro-
posal like that could not, he thought, have come
from one who had not harboured some further
base ambition in his heart. So he instantly sent
men to behead Gazi and his cousin, so that he
might " see their heads rolling in a pool of blood
with his ow^n eyes." The Gazi had a scent of
the order beforehand, and Avith his cousin fled
from Nasir's jurisdiction and went to live in
the estates of Noor Mahammad, the Talukdar
of Pargannah Kachua. The
Parg?nnahlacw'' letter gavc him pcrmissiou to
build a house in his city on
receipt of Rs. 500 as nazar from the Gazi.
Nasir Mahammad, however, pursued the Gazi
with a dogged persistence, and Sadi in his turn
was determined to kill Nasir should an oppor-
tunity oifer itself. The Gazi had many hot dis-
cussions with his cousin on this point as he was
not willing to be treacherous to his old master.
Sadi said that not only w^ould it be foolish to
excuse one who was now their sworn enemy but
NASm IS KILLED 141
it would be positively unsafe to allow him to
live, should they themselves care for their
own lives. In the course of a doj]^ged pursuit on
the part of each side to llrid an opportunity to
kill the other, Sadi's spies l)rought the report one
day, that Nasir was in an ungutirded condition
at a place named Banspara. Sadi sent messen-
gers to him with many presents, again proposing
the marriage of the Gazi with Nasir's daughter.
The latter was beside himself in rage when he
read the letter of Sfldi, which was deliberately
written to provoke him. He ordered his men
to throw away the presents in his presence and
kick out the bearers. When this was being
done, Sadi, who had also accompanied the mes-
sengers with an army and lay at some distance,
came forward and attacked him all unguarded,
and then and there despatched him with
his sword. A pitched battle was fought between
the Gazi's army led by Sadi and those of
Nasir's sons. But the latter were defeated and
obliged to beat a retreat, and the Gazi came in
possession of Nasir's landed property. He made
extensive charities and granted remission of
rents and by these means secured the good will
of the ryats there and became very popular.
Meantime Nasir's sons had applied to the King
of Tipperah for help, reporting the murder of
their father and other violent acts of the Gazi.
The king was very angry and sent 3,000 soldiers
142 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
with his Uzir Jaydeva at the head in order to
punish the rebel. Jaydeva was
„-'^l?%^pp^^' *? *I'^ assisted by his two sjenerals—
Raja or Tipperah who *' ^
sends army against the Shobha Datta and Indra Mandal.
Gazi.
The Gazi lived at a fortified
place in Chagalmuri which was surrounded by a
deep ditch. The Uzir laid siege to this fort.
But in the night when the Uzir lay asleep in his
camp, the Gazi with the help of some local
people entered the camp like a thief and carried
the Uzir off to his fort. This was done so quickly
that the Raja's army could scarcely offer any
resistance. Now by the Gazi's order, the Uzir
was placed at the top of the gate of the fort, so
that when the king's army attacked it, they
could not shoot arrows or guns lest they hit the
Uzir. The fort was besides, as already stated,
surrounded by a ditch which the army could not
easily cross, owing to the volley of shot the Gazi
had opened. The Uzir called out to his soldiers
from the top of the gate and
captive. ^''^ ""^ ^ '^ ordered them to desist from
fight. " If you shoot, there is
the risk of myself being hit ; if you succeed, the
Gazi will cut my head off. In either case my
death seems certain ; so go back and report this
to the king and do as he Avill bid." There was
therefore no alternative for his army than to
retire. As soon as the king's army had gone
away the Uzir's chains were removed and the
THE GAZi iiECEiVES A sauad 143
Gazi foil at liis feet and gave him a nazar of
Rs. 500. A Brahmin cook was engaged to
prepare a rich meal for the minister to whom
the Gazi made many apologies for fighting
against the Eaja. He attended the Uzir as a
servant does his master, ministering to his com-
forts in every respect. He implored the Uzir
to persuade the king to grant him a smiad for
Nasir's landed estates and give him besides the
lease of Chakla Roshanabad for an annual rent
of Rs. 10,000. The Gazi said " If you can make
the king agree to this, here is a thousand
rupees for you as my humble present to you
to spend on perfumes. But if your king
does not agree, I shall cut you to pieces and
present the relics of your body to his Majesty."
The Uzir wrote a letter to the king stating that
the Gazi behaved very well, and that he was the
fit person for taking the administration of the
zemindary in hand, his efiiciency being undoubted.
If he assumed a hostile attitude, he might prove
dangerous to the State. With this remark the
Uzir recommended his Majesty to grant the Gazi
his prayer. He also reminded the king of his
own peculiar condition, for the Gazi would surely
kill him in the case of denial.
The Raja of Tipperah _._
grants him lease of Tlic Raja held an advisory
landed estates of Nasir ., ion
and of Chakla Rosha- couucil and finally dccidcd
to grant the prayer of the
Gazi. A sanad was issued accordingly granting
144 FOLK LITERATITRE OF BENGAL
the Gazi the lease of Chakla E^oshaiiabad
on an annual rent of lis. 10,000. The sanad
came to the Uzir and as soon as it was presented
to the Gazi he offered his promised reward of
Es. 1,000 to him. To the prime minister he sent
a nazar of Rs. 300. He, besides, sent to the
Dewans and Mukhshuddis of the court a sum of
Ks. 400. Those messengers who had carried the
sanad from the chief city got E-s. 10 each. He
also submitted to the kin^ a nazar of Rs. 1,000.
The Uzir now returned to the capital and the
officers of the king who had been with the Uzir
thus reported, " Your Majesty has now appointed
the fit man in the fit place. The Gazi is a very
powerful man with handsome features ; his mind
is liberal and his words are sweet ; it is a blessed-
ness to hear him talk ; he always wears rich
apparel and remains surrounded by his friends
who all look resplendent. He is kind to those
who seek his help, but rude to the rude. We
were a fortnight with the Gazi. He treated the
Uzir with the respect that is due only to gods.
Every day a goat was sacrificed for the Uzir's
dinner and the Guzi approached him like the
humblest of his servants." The Uzir himself
spoke to the king that all that the officers hadsaid
was true. " The Gazi has killed Nasir but hunters
also kill birds for no fault. If that melancholy
event had not taken place there would have been
no chance for the only fit man of that district to
HE ASSERTS INDEPENDENCE 145
come in and occupy the fit place." The Raja's
anger for the assassination of Nasir was thus
removed, and he was well pleased with the
Gflzi for his good treatment of the royal officers.
The Gazi next got the lease of Pergana Meher-
kal from the king for ten years on an annual
rent of Us. 8,000, He had in addition to pay a
nazar of Rs. 1,000 to the king for this lease.
But the Gazi gradually grew bolder and
resolved to fisfht with the Raja of Tipperah
and assert his independence. With this end in
view, he collected a large army, and when he
thought he was sufficiently strong, stopped paying
revenue to the king and declared his indepen-
dence in a most defying manner. A fight
ensued in which guns and cannons were freely
used by both sides. It is written in the book that
the Gazi had worshipped Kali, the presiding
deity of the Udaipur hills, be-
wa?aga?nst i^^^^ foi'G hc dcckrcd War against
of Tipperah. ^j^^ king. Hc had engaged a
Brahmin for this purpose, and it is said that the
goddess appeared to him in a dream and pro-
mised him success in his campaign. Eor seven days
the fight continued incessantly, and on the
eighth, the Raja's army began to lose ground and
towards the end of the day his Majesty left the
field and made a precipitous retreat towards
Manipur. The Raja of Manipur gave him shelter
in this distress. His nephew Laksmana Manikya
19
146 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
was placed by the Gtlzi on a moclv-throne built
with bamboos. The Gazi thus became master
of the field. His reign was characterised by
justice, liberality and foresight,
He receives a sannd i j.i tti £ t\ n •
from the Emperor. ^ud the Emperor of Delhi gave
him a sanad confirming him
in his high position. In every department
of administration his great personality made
its mark. He fixed the scales of measure-
ment and weight, and the prices of goods.
We find that a grocer was obliged to take
up the standard weight of a maund to be
82 shikkas ; the price of oil was fixed at
3 annas per seer and that of ghoe (clarified
butter) at four annas. He placed Abdul
Rajjak, one of his generals, in charge of the
collection of rents on the Hill-side ; the
administration of Udaipur and
rews"""""*'"'"' Agartala was also entrusted to
this general. The Gazi kept to
himself the monopoly of cotton in his territories,
and that of salt that came by the Ganges and
the Peni. He established rest-houses where
guests were entertained from the royal-store,
and a boarding school where he made provision
for a hundred students. The principal of this
institution was a blind scholar of Shondwip who
taught the Koran ; He was assisted by a Moulvi,
brought from Hindustan, who taught Arabic
and another professor from Jugdia wdio taught
SADI IS ASSASSINATED 117
Bengali. The classes remained open from (5 a.m.
to 10 A.M. and from 12 a.m. to 4 p.m.
When the Gazi was at the zenith of his
power, his cousin Sadi began to show a feeling
of jealousy towards him. The cousin was older
than the Gilzi by some years and had rendered
him great help in his rising to that eminence.
He now, however, showed
Assassination of Sadi. ^^^^^^^1 and malice iu CYcry
action, so that his conduct gradually became
intolerable. He publicly vaunted that the Gazi
had secured his high position merely by his
assistance and declared that it was wrong on the
part of the Gazi to usurp all power to himself.
Not satisfied with tliis, he openly demanded of
the Gazi to make over the administration to him.
" A nice arrangement it is that I should win your
battles and you should enjoy the fruit : It is
I that killed Nasir Mahammad and gained his
property for you ; the Raja of Tipperah was
beaten in the field by me. You have enjoyed
this high position long enough, and noAV is the
time for you to retire." Sadi after this was
engaged in conspiring against the Gazi, and the
latter found it unsafe to tolerate his cousin any
more. He was constantly in a state of alarm
that Sadi would assassinate him. So he appointed
some soldiers privately who murdered Sadi.
The Gazi's name, as an efficient ruler, now
spread far and wide ; and the Nawab of Dacca,
148 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
whose ancestry was hig^li, did not feel it beneath
his rank to marry the daugliter of the Gazi to
his son. The Gazi's charities were very exten-
sive. We have many interesting anecdotes,
related of his great physical power — as to how he
killed tigers and wild boars without using
vreapons. An anecdote is mentioned of how
two barbers Chandra and
The barber-brothers. xJtsava reccived valuablc pre-
sents from him for shaving him when he was
asleep. They did it so cleverly that a^ hen they
cut his nails and shaved him the Gazi's sleep
was not broken.
Now the Gazi had once gone to travel in the
Chittagong-side, and there ordered fish to be
caught from some big tanks. This country
belonged to Alivardi Khan, Nawab of Murshida-
bad, whose deputies Aga Bakhar and Shekh
Onich ruled the districts from a place called
Nizamgunge. The Gazi did not ask permission
from them, nor give them any share of the
fish that were caught. They
In chittagong. ^^^^ uml)rage and reported to
the Nawab that the Gazi had grown very power-
ful, and the reason of his visit to Chittagong was
probably a sinister motive — to seize and occupy
some of the Nawab's dominions in the eastern
side. The Nawab treated this with contempt and
said that the Gazi was a reputed administrator
of great abilities; he had caught fish from
PLO'JVS TO MUR13EU THE GAZI 119
•
some of the tanks ol" Chittagoni^ ; that was a
trifle and he l)lanied liis generals for hiinging
such a petty matter to his notice. The dis-
appointed generals noAV outwardly professed a
great friendship towards tlie
Jealousies and con- /^- • i • 'i i i •
spiracies amongst ^azi and mvited him to a
some of the officers ui" ■, . i ±^ • i mi
the Nawab of Mur- dmncr at their house. Ihe un-
sliidabad against the ,• n- ' j. • i
Qji2i. suspecting Uazi went in due
time, and Avhen the dinner was
over, found hiir.self Avaylaid by some assassins
appointed by the generals. With his Avonderful
dash and physical strength he kicked two of the
horse men out of his way, mounted on one of
their horses and speedily passed out of sight
before the others could realise their situation. He
Avas, hoAveA'Cr, surrounded by many more soldiers of
Aga Bakhar and had to hide himself in a potter's
house, AA hence he returned home safely after an
adventurous course, after many hair-breadth
escapes from the pursuing enemy.
Constantly hearing reports of the Gazi's
brave deeds, the NaAvab of Murshidabad noAv
felt that it Avould not be safe to encourage the
groAvth of his power any more. So he sent a
messenger asking the Gazi to visit his capital.
The Gazi, however, Avas advised not to hazard
such a visit. The Nawab, it is said, promised
a high rcAvard to one Avho Avould succeed in
inducing the Gazi to come to Murshidabad on
a friendly visit. A Hindu sannyasl succeeded
150 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
ill doing' so ; for, this man had so absolutely
ingratiated himself into the Gazi's confidence
that he heeded not the remonstrances of his
friends and relations, but paid a visit to Murslii-
dabad in the company of the
The Gazi's visit to ascctic. The Nawab received
Murshidabad and as-
sassination, him with seeming courtesey and
friendship, bat one of his men,
named Shamsher, killed the Gazi when he least
suspected foul-play. Thus ended the great
career of Shamsher Gazi whose name and
achievements are on record in the Eajamala — an
authorised history of the Tipperah Eaj — and
which are very minutely described in this old rural
song, published in a volume Demy 8vo. of 115
pages, by Moulvi Lutful Khabir, Sherestadar
of the judge's court, Noakhali. Even up to
this time the woodmen Avho enter the deep
forest of the Udaipur hills and strike their axe
on big Shal trees there, sometimes find a large
number of golden coins which the Gazi had
placed inside their trunks in the course of his
plundering expeditions. The treasures Avere
preserved in this Avay by the help of the
carpenters, Avhom the Gazi, it is said, put to
death immediately after they had cleverly covered
the openings in the trunks with Avood and
bark in his presence. This he did for fear of
disclosure and of the carpenters' appropriating
the Avealth to themselves.
THE BlIAT SONGS 151
Tliere are many hallads and songs composed
by the rural people of Bengal, Hindus and
Muhammadans, Avhich may still be found out,
illuminating some of the obscure corners of the
the history of Bengal. We know that the
Bhatas of Sylhet used to record the leading
historical and social events that transpired in
this country from time to time in Imllads Avhich
they had made it their profession to sing from
door to door. A very stirring account of how
a big zemindar was jioisoned by his chief
officer when the former had called upon him to
submit an account of the money that he had
defalcated, formed the subject of one of the
Bhata songs that we heard in our childhood. The
zemindar was Babu Hajkumar
KiS'rS,?;;^,:"! ^oy ^nd •"« chief omcer was
Kishory Mahalanabis. They
belonged to the village Kirtipasa in the district
of Backergunge. The song gives a vivid
account of tlie zemindar's death in the arms
of his faithful servant Baburam Bhandari, and
relates to the providential retaliation that came
upon the chief officer, who, trying to make his
escape, fell a victim to a royal tiger of the
Sundarbans. This song describes events
that took place more than a hundred years hence.
There are several Bhata songs that relate to the
floods which inundated particular localities of
Bengal at different periods. There are besides
152 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
those that describe anecdotes of some princes
and other noble men of the pre-Muhammadan
period. One of such that we heard long ago
related the tragic death of a young and beauti-
ful princess, who in order to escape from a
tyrant, fell into a tank and drowned herself.
These songs, which the Bhatas used to com-
pose and sing in the country-
baUads.''"^'' "^ ™'"^ Sif^p' li^^e ^0^^^ gl'O^^ n out of
fashion, and the descendants
of these ministrels have long ceased to follow
the profession of their ancestors for lack of
encouragement. They kept afresh the memory
of stirring events and historical episodes and
of village politics that led to the subversion
of' the power of a jmrticular line of aristo-
cracy and the growth of power of new families
in their stead. The simple village-folk did not
care to know what transpired beyond the Hima-
layan ranges or Khaibar Pass, but they knew
what were the historical events that occurred in
the province of Bengal in those days when
ncAvspapers and journals did not bring a report
of daily occurrences to their doors every day.
Class I— The Folk-tales.
We now come to treat the rural literature
included in class I of our classification. This is
by far the most important section and deserves
a prominent and elaborate notice.
CLASS III — FOLK-TALES 153
After the fall of Buddhism, the Hindus felt
that the whole of their social organism should be
remodelled according to their own ideas. With
this object in view they took up the education
of the masses in their own hands. Not only
did they obliterate all history of Buddhism from
the Puranas but the very legends and traditions
of the country were changed, so that no trace
of Buddhism might be found in her annals.
In the temples the images of Buddha were still
worshipped but the priests called him by the
What the Hindu name of a Hindu God, such as
covintry-p?opIe 'hi the 9^^^ ^^^ VisUU. In OUC plaCC
place of foik-taies. j f^uud an image of the
Buddha worshipped under the name of the femi-
nine deity — Chandi. In the temple of Tilavan-
deywara at Benares a very glorious image of the
Buddha is called Jatacankara or Civa " with
knotted hair. " This ' Jata ' or ' knotted hair '
is nothing but the historic fig tree under which the
Buddha attained his Nirvana. Though the Bud-
dha is recognised by the Yaisnavas as the ninth in-
carnation of Visnu, the Hindus did not tolerate
his worship or any thing connected with Bud-
dhism in this country, during the early days of
Renaissance. The folk-tales were of course still
told in the Hindu homes conveying the lofty
ideal of the Buddhistic self-control and sacrifice,
but the kathakas introduced the stories of
Dhruba, Prahllad, Harischandra, Ekalavya and
20
154 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
a hundred others from the Puranas, which
emphasised devotion as a more potent factor in.
the salvation of a man than a development of
his moral qualities. The Pouranic stories indi-
cated the beauty of faith and its power more than
good action and self-control on which Buddhism
had laid a far greater stress. So, though the
rupakaihas or folk-tales still found favour in the
15th and 16th centuries, they ceased to exercise
the same influence in moulding the characters
of men and women that they had done in a
previous age. Poor Malanchamala and Kan-
chanmala could not hold their own before Sita,
Savitri and other heroines of the Pouranic tales,
though the characters of the former carried an
undoubted fascination and showed at least an
equally high ideal of womanhood.
But the best of these folk-tales are those that
have for the most part yet remained unwritten.
Unfortunately, many of the folk-tales which
have been printed, have lost their genuine forms,
their compilers have tried to embellish them
by their scholarship and pedantry. The Muham-
madan half-lettered Munshi as well as the
Pouranic exponent amongst the Hindus thought
these tales to be too humble to be brought
before the public in their original shape, and
tried to improve upon them by introducing a
high-flown classical style. The influence of
Arabic and Persian, no less than that of Sanskrit,
MUHAMMADAN VERSIONS 155
has therefore greatly marred the simple charm
of these tales.
Eor these seven or eight hundred years, the
Mollas have not allowed the Muhammadan pesan-
try to accept any story or folk -tale frona the
^, ,, , , Hindus, developed under Pou-
The JIuhammaden ' -l
laity have preserved ranic iufluences. The whole
the older popular tales
amongst them. Hiudu atmosphere of Bengal
has rung all this time with songs and ballads
based on the Puranas and the Epics. The
Muhammadan peasant saw the //«ifrrt-performan-
ces in the homes of their neighbours, but they
took a superficial and momentary interest in
them. The kathakas gave no permission to
the Muhammadan rustic to enter the circle
of their audience, where recitations and songs
and narrations of Pouranic stories went on. The
Bengali Muhammadans, however, amused them-
selves still with those folk-tales that had been
transmitted to them from generation to genera-
tion, from times much anterior to the Muham-
madan conquest.
We have got a number of these tales pub-
lished by Muhammadans. They are evidently
Hindu and Buddhistic in spirit, though the
Hinduism to be found in them is diiferent in
many respects from the type developed by the
Pouranic Renaissance. They represent the
earlier forms, and this I have already indicated in
a previous lecture.
156 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
Here lies on my table a heap of these tales
A list of some of by Muhammadan writers. "We
these tales. •, ii x p tt-- i -i-
nave the story or Kanchana mala
by Mahammad Munshi and published by
Maniruddin Ahmad from No. 337, Upper Chit-
pore Road, Calcutta, — that of Madhumala by
Syed Shaha Khandakar Javedali published from
155, Masjidbari Street, Calcutta, — of Malancha-
mala by Aizuddin Munshi and published from
337, Upper Chitpore Road, — of Shakhisona by
Mahammad Korban All, published from 11,
Mechuabazar Street, Calcutta, — of Cita Vasanta
by Golam Kader, published from 335, Upper
Chitpore Road, Calcutta. There are besides the
stories of Malati Kusuma, Chandravall, Lajja-
vati, and lots of others which in spirit and
language are quite different from genuine
Muhammadan tales.
If it is urged that these tales, most of which
are Buddhistic, have no reference to gods and
goddesses of the Hindu pan-
^iueT'oThe" Muw: U^eon ; but are based on moral
T^'^orinLor'To qualities which appeal to all
Hindu Renaissance and gggjg q( humailitv and for that
Muhammaaan conquest. «'
reason found an access into the
homes of the peasantry of Bengal after their
conversion to Muhammadan faith, I should say
that this could never be. Why should the Muham-
madan converts whogave up their old religion
and accepted Muhammadan names, obliterating
HINDU AND BUDDHIST DEITIES 15?
all traces of their ancient faitli and traditions, care
to introduce the stories of Hindu princes and
merchants into their zenana ? After they turned
Muhammadans, not even their own kinsmen
amongst Hindus would visit them witliin their
houses, with the object of teUing to them the
Hindu folk-tales. The women generally tell
these stories, but no Hindu woman would come
in contact with a Muhammadan home, its kitchen
savouring of beef and chicken roasted in onion-
juice, at which she shuddered. Besides it is not
true that these stories do not contain references
to Hindu gods and goddesses. They sometimes
do. I ought to tell you here that the Hindus and
Buddhists often worshipped the same gods and
goddesses. So that the mere mention of a god
or «oddess does not indicate to which of the
two religious pantheons the deity belonged. In
the story of Kanchanamala by Mahammad Munshi
we find the heroine Kanchanamala suff .-ring all
that a woman could, from the
The refei'ence to
Hindu or Buddhist gods maltreatment of her husband,
and goddesses in these , if • i • -i
stories. who, out ot prcjudicc and con-
tempt, never looked at her face.
She was a remarkable beauty ; but she could
not show herself to her dear lord, who shut his
eyes against her, following the wicked counsels of
her sisters-in-law who had reported to. him that
her look was malignant. Despairing of gaining
love from him, Kanchanamala prayed to the
158 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
goddess Sarasvati for taking her away from this
earth, for she could bear no more. She was
a nymph and wanted to go back to her
father's place at Alaka. The goddess came ; and
Kanchana must go back to her father's home
with her. But her steps were slow ; she glanced
at her husband and found herself unable to
move — a deep affection, inspite of all bad
treatment, bound her to him and how could she
give up the opportunity of seeing him, though
he never looked at her r She now prayed for a
little time to the goddess on some pretext or
other. Here are the verses which are no doubt
very old —
" Oh goddess, Oh mother, wait a while, I must wear my
apparel before going to father's home."
And then again that little while passed, the
apparel was worn, but she said again : —
" Oh mother, Oh goddess, wait a little more.
I must wear my eight ornaments before going to
father's home.*'^
This attachment to her lord is charming, for
she secretly wept as she prayed for a little time
to the goddess whom she had invoked to help
*"?? Ttr^ W^ Ftf?t, ^t^? ^7T^ Wtf^I ^,
KANCHANAMALA 159
her in going to her father's home. The merchant
caught a glimpse of her for the first time in his
life as she passed out of sight like a flash. He
had never thought that his wife was so beautiful ;
he was dazzled by lier remarkable beauty, but it
was now too late. The remorseful husband passed
through great adventures and perils with hair-
breadth escapes, till he reached the fairy land.
The condition of gaining his wife back was to
recognise her and take her by the hand from the
company of her sisters, all of whom assumed the
same appearance ; for they were nymphs and
could take any shape. How could a mortal dis-
cover the subtle difference if any existed at all ?
She was dancing before the god Civa with her
sisters. Rupachand, the youthful merchant,
sang a song understood by Kanchanamala
alone : —
" Dance with one hand raised, my darling, so that I
may know yon.
Dance, my darling, behind yonr sisters so that I may
know you by your position.
Shut one of your eyes, darling, and dance so that I
may know you."
From a mere mention of ^iva and Sarasvati
we cannot say to which pantheon, the Hindu or
the Buddhistic, the deities belonged as they are
common to both. There are also invocations by
Kanchana of ParvatI and Ganga in this story. We
can cite many examples like the above, showing
160 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
that in the Muhammaclan versions of the tale,
the gods and goddesses of the Hindu and Bud-
dhist mythologies have found a place as in the
Hindu versions themselves. This undoubtedly
proves that the stories were current amongst the
Muhammadans of Bengal, befoia they had
renounced tlie older religion.
The only unfortunate thing about these stories
is that we have had no opportunity to hear them
from Muhammadan women. In that case it could
have been understood they have been preserved by
the Muhammadan country-folk in their original
shape. As far as the printed versions go, they have
not been preserved in this way. The Munshis
have evidently introduced changes into the stories
on the lines of Arabic and Persian tales ;
and, as I have already stated, the Hindu
printed versions themselves are not free from
Sanskritic influence. In the story of Malatl-
kusumamala, the heroine MalatI goes by her
Hindu name, but her husband is called Alam
which is a Muhammadan name. A clear in-
fluence of Persian is in evidence in the descrip-
tions of the King's court ; the language which
is Bengali, has an admixture of Urdu and
Arabic. But inspite of all these exotic traces,
the original spirit of the story has, to a very
considerable extent, been retained. The gander,
the '7'ajahansa* has been the traditional carrier
of all news and a help in love matters, in»the
BUDDHIST PHRASEOLOGY 161
Hindu tales over since the time of Nala-Dama-
yanti. And here also the bird
meaiSetodes"' appears discharging the same
function. Alam, the merchant,
appears before a ' murn^ a Hindu or a Buddhist
sago, and a tdntric who is engaged in tapa or
religious austerities practised by the people of
his order, with head bent downwards
before a tire and legs raised above. These
self-tormentina:s characterised the tantrikas
of the 8th and 9th centuries, when these stories
were probably composed, though it cannot be
said that there are not instances of similar self-
torture amonst the tantrikas even of this day.
One curious point in regard to these tales
compiled by Muhammadans is that we come
across many examples of Buddhist phraseology
in them, such for instance is the word ' niranjana '
which we find frequently in almost every one
of these stories. The word is used for God. It
often occurs in the Buddhist works like the
Cunya purana and Dharmamangala poems. The
" niranjaner usmaj' or " the anger of God-
head," forms one of the most stirring incidents
described in the Cunya purana. Another word
of Buddhist currency is 'Kaynur' for Kamarupa,
which is also to be met with in many of these
stories. The Hindu and the Buddhist elements,
as they were before the Pouranic Renaissance,
form the characteristic features of these tales.
21
l62 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
111 the story of Jamini Bhana told by Munshi
Muhammad Khater Marhim, the nymphs of
Indra's heaven, that we find them in a similar
tale told by Hindu writers, are changed into
fairies. The deer in this story was a fairy ;
this will naturally remind one of the nymph
who attracted the attention and love of the
king Dandi in the guise of a deer. This legend
of the king Dandi and his love with a nymph
of Indra's heaven, who remained as a deer
during daytime under a curse, is treated in
detail in the Bengali Mahabharata. The name
of the hero — Jamini Bhan seems to be an abbre-
viation of the word Jamini Bhanu (lit. ' Sun of the
night,' whatever it may mean) and reminds us
of the hero of the poem of Harilila by Jaynara-
yan Sen, whose name is Chandra Bhan (moon-
sun, an equally meaningless word). The other
characters of these tales Jagatchandra, Mriga-
vati and Rukmini bear Hindu names.
As already stated by me, these folk-tales,
common to Hindus and Muhammadans alike,
and a common heritage to them both, have got,
in the Muhammadan versions, an exotic flavour,
which is unmistakable. The story of Kanchana-
mala, compiled by Munshi
^t^'^SS:^:! Muhammad, has a Hindu
in Muhammadan ver- o^round-work, and is essentiallv
sions of rolk tales. ~ ' •'
a Hindu tale in every sense ;
but even here the Muhammadan compiler has
WOMANLY DEVOTION 163
introduced some of the peculiar ideas current in
his society. One of the brothers of Rupalal
goes by the Muhammadan name of Aftab. The
name Taimus is also a Muhammadan one in the
story. But these innovations are after all very
superficial. Sometimes a deterioration in the
standard of sexual morality in the Muhamma-
dan versions of these stories is strikins:. This is
what has shocked us in several places. The
Hindu ideal of womanly virtues, of devotion to
husband, of hrahmacharya in widowhood, is the
highest. Whether a woman should stick to her
husband selected by her parents, or have a free
choice in the selection of her mate, and change
one who has ceased to interest her for the latest
winner of her heart, is too complicated a
question, raised by the modern rationalists,
for me to enter upon in the present topic. In
our social organism no doubt a change or
rather revolution is coming on, and the time-
honoured traditions and beliefs are now being
scrutinised in the light of the reformer's new
ideas, and the ground Ave tread upon, however
firm in the past, has grown shaky in the present.
But let us not fail to appreciate the type of the
highest devotion and highest sacrifice in women,
though we may break and rebuild our ideals.
In the Muhammadan community here, a woman
may take another mate if her husband dies. The
fasts and vigils of widowhoood, its austerities
164 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
and resignation, — the ideals set forth by the
Hindu society, lost all its hold on the lay Muham-
madan converts, and sexual depravity was
not viewed by them in their lowest ranks, with
the same feeling of horror. The Hindu folk-
tales are free from all blemish in this respect.
They were told by women to women and
children, and every word that fell from the lips
of their tellers was cautious and carefully
weighed. The purity of these folk-tales strikes
all the more, when we see that the poems and
other literary works of the period, written by
Hindus themselves, are not free from indecency
and moral defects. The latter works were mostly
written by men for men ; the fair sex had
scarcely any thing to do with them. Female
education, as we now understand by it, viz., a
knowledge amongst women of the art of reading
and writing, had not spread so widely in those
days as to enable the womenfolk to read the
literature written in the vernacular. The
writer therefore had not that sense of respon-
sibility that he has at the present day. When
men write something for themselves and not for
the other sex, they may take some license and may
notobserve the too hard andfast rules of decency.
But the folk-tales which used to be narrated to
women, -were generally composed with a far
greater caution and sense of appropriateness
than the ordinary written literature. In the
CITA-BASANTA 165
Muhammadan version we are shocked to find in
the story of Kanchanaraala, descriptions of
sexual vice that prevailed in the harem of the
six hrothers of Rupalal. This youth revelled in-
unrestrained and gross incest Avith his sisters-in
law. In the story of Cita-Vasanta hy Golam
Kader, we are again shocked by the intriguing
queen's throwing the two princes into the meshes
of her abominable design. With what a sense
of relief does the reader turn over the pages of
a Hindu version of the stories. The situations
are completely changed, and no suggestion of
wicked indecency is to be found in them.
We are afraid that our critical review of this
folk-literature may not appeal to you, as most
of you are not acquainted with
Qita Vasauta as told 1 1 i • -r i ,
by^Goiam Kader. the storics. I propose hcrc to
compare several versions of the
same tales obtained from different sources. First
of all, let us take for example the story of Cita
Vasanta. There are altogether four versions of
this story that we have come across. We shall
first take up the Muhammadan one. It is com-
piled by Golam Kader and published by Afaz-
uddin Ahmed from 155-1, Musjidbaree Street,
Calcutta. A brief summary of this tale is given
here.
In the city of Shahabad reigned a king
named Ada Nasa. He got twin sons by his
queen ; they were called Cita and Vasanta. One
166 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
day the queen saw two birds near her compart-
ment. Seated on the bough of a tree, they
endearingly touched each other with their beaks
and seemed bound in great love. They had
several young ones. The queen was pleased to
see the happy family. But a few days after, the
female bird died, and for a day or two her mate
screamed Avildly in grief ; but not long after,
he brought with him another female bird, and
they lived as husband and wife. Ihe new comer
killed the young ones, one by one, during the
absence of the male bird. This
The queen's piesenti- incident movcd the quecn so
ments. ^
deeply that she fell ill. She
told the king of her fears, lest if she died and
he took another mate, the condition of her dear
sons might be like that of the young ones of
the bird. The king of course swore that this
could never be, that it was impossible that he
would take another wife, if, God forbidding,
such a calamity, as she spoke of, ever
happened.
But the queen really died, and the Prime
Minister gave a long course of religious advice
to quiet the mind of the dis-
Her death and the COUSOlate king. His MajCSty
king's taking a second , . .
wife. distributed chanties amongst
the poor, and did as he was
advised for the good of the deceased queen's
soul. In course of time, however, the king took
THE HEARTS OF MAGIC BIRDS 167
another queen. Cita and Vasanta had now grown
up into manhood. The young queen was en-
amoured of the brothers and she did not make
a secret of it, but plainly told them that she
had conceived a passion for them. The brothers
were shocked at this confession from their step-
mother and fled from her presence in horror.
But the infuriated queen maligned them before
the king and gave out a false story complaining
against their conduct. The king was very much
enraged and gave an order next morning to
execute the princes, and bring their blood before
him. The executioner took compassion on the
young princes, killed a goat and
The brothers led to filled a CUp witll Its blood to be
the execution-ground i i •
and their escape. shcWU tO tllC kmg, and SCt the
two brothers at liberty in a
deep jungle, advising them never to return to
their motherland.
The brothers wandered in the forests for a
long time, and heard two birds, endowed with
the power of speech, talking to one another in
the following strain : " If some one kills me
and eats my heart, he will immediately become
a king," said the one. " If
The eating of the any ouc cats mc," said the
hearts of the magic- -n i
birds. other, he will be m pos-
session of a diamond every
morning." The brothers were fine archers.
They killed the birds. Cita ate the heart of the
168 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
first and Vasanta of the second bird. Now
when the two brothers were straying apart from
one another for a short while, the royal elephant
of a neighbouring king's stall came near Cita ;
the animal held a string of diamond of the
value of nine lakhs by its trunk. The king of
that country had died leaving no issue ; the
minister and the people relied upon Provi-
dence to give them a king, and the elephant was
let loose on their decision that whomsoever it
would bring to the palace on its back, he should
be taken to be their king, elected by God. The
elephant kneeled down before
gita is elected a king, ^ita, put the striug of diamoud
round his neck by its proboscis
and carried him on its back to the palace. Cita
was thus installed as the king of that country.
Vasanta wandered in the jungle in quest of his
brotlier fruitlessly. He passed through great
hardships and trials. Once he was taken for
a thief of fruits and of horses, and arrested.
After escaping from this danger, he came to a
merchant who gave him shelter willingly, as
to his great surprise he found that the handsome
youth presented him with a diamond every day.
The avaricious merchant made up his mind to
extort from him information as to where his
extraordinary treasure lay and insisted on his
drinking wine so that in a drunken state he
might make the disclosure. .Now the condition
VASANTA*S FURTHER TROUBLES. 169
of his receivini^ a diamond every day was that
this power would fail if he
Vasanta loses his drank wino. Being obliged to
power of producing i . , . , i ^ i
diamonds. druik UL the above way, he
lost his power ; and the merchant
finding that he no more gave him any diamond,
drove him away. He thus wandered about
like a helpless man and was in great distress.
The merchant had grown very rich by sell-
ing the diamonds and he now purchased a
ship and planned to go on a sea-voyage for
trade. But it so happened that, on the eve
of starting, the ship would not float on the
sea, and the captain said that unless a human
sacrifice was offered, there was no chance of
the ship moving on the waters. The merchant's
men went to secure a person to be offered
as sacrifice, and whom should they secure
but the unfortunate youth Vasanta whom
no kith or kin claimed as their own ? The
merchant's wife remonstrated, as he was a
very handsome youth, but the relentless
merchant would not listen to her words. He
was dressed in red robes and garlanded. When
led to the execution-ground, however, he begged
of the merchant to spare his
Led to the execution, jjfg ^g ^0 fclt Confident that if
ground.
he simply touched the ship it
would float by the grace of the Almighty.
Vasanta was required to prove what he said. As
22
170 FOLK LITERATURE Of BENGAL
he touched the ship it floated like a thing of
cork. But Vasauta was not set
Is sared. at liberty, as the captain said
that if the ship should again
get stuck on the shore, his services might be
required.
So Vasanta was on board the ship, and the
merchant's daughter took a fancy for him and
asked her mother to marry her to him. The
merchant treated the request with contempt.
Laden with merchandise, the ship came to the
Chinese shore. The Chinese princess happened
to see Vasanta from the window of her palace,
and begged of her father to get her married to
him. The king called the merchant to him and
proposed the marriage. He would not listen
to anything to the contrary. So the marriage
took place with the usual pomp. And the
princess with her large dowry started on another
ship with her husband. The merchant paid a
visit to them in their ship, and, one day, when
they were passing through the
Marries a princess y^st OCCaU, DUShcd doWU
and is thrown into the ■*•
sea. Vasanta into the bottomless
deep. He now asked the
princess to marry him. The princess had thrown
a tumba for the support of her husband, and
declared that she would be right glad to marry
the merchant after the expiry of a year, the
term of her vow. Vasanta, with the help of the
COMPLETION OF THE VOW l7l
tumha floated on the sea and made a narrow
escape from being seized and carried off by a
great sea-bird. Once a crocodile Lad even swal-
lowed him, but he canje out with the help of
the tumha. He floated through the milk-sea,
the butter-sea, the red-sea, the blue-sea, in fact
all the seven seas, till some nymphs, taking
pity on him, took him to Indra's heaven where
the god granted him the boon that his evil
destiny would soon be over. When he returned
to earth, after passing through further vicissitudes
of fortune, he came to the garden of a flower-
woman, which was lying as a waste-land and
desert for many years. But as Vasanta entered
it, the withered plants all flowered and looked
fresh and smiling. The flower-woman, coming
to the spot at that time, felt as if some god had
visited her deserted garden and worked wonders.
She welcomed Vasanta, called him nephew, and
treated him with great hospitality. This flower-
woman had a means of access into the merchant's
harem where the Chinese princess was kept.
Getting a clue to this, Vasanta sent a message to
her. And she now expressed a wish to celebrate
the rites by which her vow was to be completed.
The merchant was very glad that on the comple-
tion of her vow she would accept him as her
husband. Invitation-letters were issued to all
princes and Cita who was now a king, and
Adanas, the father of Cita and Vasanta, as well
172 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
as other princes of the country and its influential
and rich merchants assembled to witness the
function. The condition of the ceremony
required that one who would be able to tell the
whole story of the princes (Jita-Vasanta, would
alone be privileged to hold the
Vasanta holds the • J.^ jy* ta
priestly office. pricstly oiiice. Drummcrs were
appointed to announce the condi-
tion laid down by the princess by beat of drums,
and Vasanta came forward to accept the condi-
tion declaring that he fully knew the story. So
before the assembled kings and merchants, he
commenced to narrate the story of Cita- Vasanta
even from the time when their
The merchant is be- mothcr had SCCU the futurC of
headed and the happy
end for other-. " her SOUS in tlic fatc of the young
ones of a bird. As he related the
story of his great miseries, one by one, the eyes of
each one of that illustrious audience became tearful
and many a time he himself had to stop to
clear his voice, choked with emotion. A violent
feeling was raised in that vast assembly, as
brother recognised brother, and the king, his
sons. The gladsome news of the lost being
found again was announced by the music of
nahabat orchestra. The king ordered his wicked
wife and the merchant to be beheaded and the
order was carried out then and there. The king
elected Cita to be his successor and Vasanta was
made his prime minister. The Chinese princess
HARINATH*S VERSION 173
was brought to the palace. Vasanta, however,
had to take a second wife, for the merchant's
daughter had loved him with a whole heart,
though her father had treated him cruelly.
We shall now briefly review another version
of the story of Clta- Vasanta by a Hindu writer.
This compiler has tried his best to maintain his
dignity as a writer of classical style, and the
Harinath Mazumdar's folk-talc hc heard in his child-
^'^"'°" hood he has thoroughly recast
on a pouranic model, giving it an air of a full-
fledged Sanskritic story, and eliminating all
traces of its rural origin.
The story is not called Cita-Vasanta. Some-
how or other the author did not like the name of
Clta ; he has changed it into Vijaya. So that
the story in this version goes by the name of
Vijaya-Vasanta.
The author is well known in Bengal as a saint
and a writer of spiritual songs. In the colophon
of these, he subscribes himself as Pikir Chand
Fakir. This is, however, his nom de 'plume ; his
real name is Harinath Majumdar, but he is more
familiarly known as Kan gal Harinath.
He wrote the story in 1859, when its first
edition was published, and a fourteenth edition
was called for in 1913, long after the death of
the author. The book Vijaya-Vasanta was very
popular at one time. The author's chief credit
lies in his power of creating pathos in an
174 FOLK LITERA.TURE OF BENGAL
extraordinary manner. No one can read the book
without being literally swept away by emotion
and by a feeling of compassion for the sufferings
of the two forlorn children, especially Vasanta,
the youngest child. But we are not concerned
with the pathos of the story. A brief summary
of this version is given below.
Parikshit, the king, one day went to the forests
for hunting. He put a dead serpent round the
neck of a saint, who, merged in contemplation,
had not heard the king's request to give him
some drinking water. The sage's young son
CrngI came to the spot that moment, and, seeing
his father insulted by the king, cursed him say-
ing that he would be stung by a serpent within
a week and die. Now the sage heard this curse
uttered by his son and reprimanded him for this
cruelty. He referred to a curse once uttered
by two young ascetics, leading to disastrous con-
sequences in respect of the Gandharva King
Chitraratha, his wife and brother. The king
sporting in a river with his wife had not paid
heed to the young sages, and had thrown out water
on the persons of their Holinesses in course of
his sports. Chitraratha and his
^rtigi — the yonng ^
sBge hears from his brotlicrs wcrc bom iuto the
father— the story of ii p , i -ir" J
the Gandharva King Avorld of mortals as Vi3aya and
^ ^ ^''^^ ^' Vasanta. Chitraratha's former
wife became in the world a princess who was
married to Vijaya in his youth. " What were
THE boys' sufferings 176
the sufferings of these three ?" asked Crngi and
his father gave the following account.
" The king Jayasen of Jaypur got two sons,
Vijaya and Vasanta. The good queen, their
mother, died shortly after, and the king was dis-
consolate over her death for some time and his
minister gave him a course of advice to alle-
viate his grief. Sometime after, the king, at the
advice of his family-priest Dhauma, took another
wife. The old maid-servant of the house Canta
took charge of the young princes and was very
devoted to them. Durlata, a maid-servant of the
new queen, advised her to take prompt steps to
remove Vijaya and Vasanta from the palace for
ever, by means fair or foul. For these children
would, she said, stand in the way of her own
sons, when born, succeeding to the throne. The
queen took her advice and shut
The step-mothers hcrsclf up iu the " room of
machinations. ^
anger," and, when the king
enquired about the cause of her sorrow, gave
out a false story stating how she had been
insulted by the children. The king, who was
helpless in her hands, ordered the kohcal to
arrest them and execute them in the morning.
When they were bound with chains, Vasanta
who was only four years old, said, " I will
tell pappa how you treat me ; see my hands
are bleeding." Canta interposed and tried to
take away the children Ircm the koitcal
1?6 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL.
who kicked her out. The boys were thrown into
a dungeon and Vasanta said to Vijaya, " Brother,
take away my chains. I cannot bear the pain."
Vijaya heard him lament, and swooned away in
grief. The next day they were brought before the
king who gave the order to behead them at
once. Vijaya said, "Punish me, sire, as you will
like, but not Vasanta, innocent as innocence
itself." Vasanta showed the blood on his hand
and said, " Pappa, punish the kotwal and take me
to your care. See I am in great fear and pain."
But the king did not even look at the princes
and was inexorable ; his order must be carried
out at once. The courtiers were greatly moved
and they interceded in behalf of the princes.
But the king said, " If some body else had
insulted the queen, what would be his fate ?
I cannot show partiality to-
Banished from the i -i t ^i i
capital and sufferings wards my owu Children ; that
would not be just." So the just
monarch's order was on the point of being exe-
cuted, but the prime minister strongly con-
demned it, and the king had to yield a little.
Order of execution was changed to one of banish-
ment for life. The two boys were let loose in a
jungle, far off from the capital. They came to
the foot of a mountain where the valley was
pleasant to see, with a spring of pure and trans-
parent water. Vijaya left Vasanta for a little
time and went in quest of food. The latter sat
VASANTA EATS A POISONOUS FRUIT 177
there waiting, and tasted a fruit that had dropped
from a near tree and became senseless, — the fruit
was poisonous. When Vijaya saw his little
brother in that condition on his return, he con-
cluded that he must have been stung by a
serpent. Seeing no help, he lamented, saying,
*' My darling, pappa did not show you any affec-
tion when you appealed to him ; is it for this
that, in wounded feelings, you are leaving this
world ? Wait, I am coming to you ; alas, where
now is Canta?" Saying this, he resolved to
commit suicide. Just at that moment an ascetic
appeared there and said, " Desist, my child, from
the mad course. Self-murder is unrighteous."
He gave some medicine to Vasanta by which he
recovered, for he was not dead, but senseless.
The sage gave the brothers shelter for the night.
In the morning they again started in quest of
some habitation of men. For miles and miles
there spread a deep jungle from which they
found no way out. In the night they climbed a
tree, and hisses of cobra and the yell of wolves
and a mingled uproar of other ferocious animals
were heard around. Vijaya realised the situa-
tion and looked greatly embarrassed. Vasanta,
who thought himself quite safe in the care of his
brother, just as a baby in the arms of its mother,
said, " Brother, if there is any danger, why not
call Canta to our aid ?" In the morning Vasanta
felt so thirsty that he could not speak. Upon
23
178 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
this Vijaya went in quest of a little drinking
water, and when leaving Vasanta alone, he
prayed, " Oh god, keep my little brother safe, do
whatever you like with me." But as Yijaya
had gone some way, an elephant gorgeously
caparisoned ran towards him, and, gently taking
him up by his trunk, placed him on the rich haivdd
on its back. It then walked rapidly towards
the city. The people there on the death of the
king, had set the elephant of the Royal stall to
find out a king in that way, and
The elder brother is -, -xj" , i ,i ..
installed as a King. whou Vijaya entered the city,
loud were the exclamations of
joy in the public streets and he was immediately
installed as king.
The folk-tale ends here, and the remaining
portion, tagged to it, is purely a creation of the
writer's fancy on a classical model ; though at the
end, following the spirit of the folk-tale, he makes
Vijaya, and A^asanta to be re>tored
to the old king their father, who
becomes repentant and receives them cordially.
The wicked queen is punished as a matter of course.
The next version of this story we find in the
Rev. Lalbehary De's folk-tales. It is called Cwet-
Basanta ; but the right word is ' (^ita ' which means
'cold' and not *(^wqV which
^_ Lalbehary De's ver- ^^^^^^ 'white.' This aucicnt
story is still told in the back-
ward villages of Bengal and there we find the
THE STEP-MOTHEH'S THREAT 179
name as ' (^ita.' Besides there is a sense in the
names ^ita and Vasanta as each signifies a
season. The story told by Lalbehary De may be
briefly summarised as folloAvs.
Once a merchant married a remarkable girl,
who was born of an egg of a bird called tun-timi.
She was very handsome and accomplislied, and
gave birth to two sons, Cita and Vasanta. But
unfortunately she died not long after the twin
brothers had been born. The merchant married
again, and after a few years lost all affection for
the sons of his former wife, (^ita had by this time
grown into manhood and married a beautiful girl.
About this time a fisherman brought a fish
of wonderful properties. " If any one eats it,"
said he, '* when he laughs, maniks will drop from
his mouth, and when he weeps, pearls will drop
from his eyes." The two brothers (^ita and
Vasanta secured the fish and partook of it. Their
step-mother was very jealous of them as they
were sure to inherit the Avealth of the merchant
after his death. So she frequently quarrelled
with them and one day she expressed her resolu-
tion at a moment of great anger, " Wait, wait,
wait, when the head of the family comes home,
1 will make him shed the blood of you both
before I Ejive him water to
»'
JXmttXitai: drink." The brothers took
fright at this utterance of their
step-mother knowing what an influence she had
180 FOLK LITERATURE OF BEN&AL
over their father. So they fled from home in
the night and Cita's wife also accompanied them.
They wandered about in the wilderness and as
Cita's wife was awfully thirsty, her husband left
them in order to seek water somewhere near ;
but just as he had gone a few paces, an elephant
gorgeously caparisoned, came to him, and taking
him gently by its trunk, placed him on its back
and then ran swiftly towards the city. The
elephant was the ' king-maker ' in that country.
But for sometime past a tragic event occurred
in the palace every morning.
^ gita is installed as ^j^^ elephant Carried a man
on its back every day and he
was duly installed as king. He spent the night
with the queen and it Avas found every morning
that the king had died in the night, (^ita was
also duly installed as king and was in the room
of the queen that night. He, however, did not
sleep but watched. In tlie depth of the night a thin
thread-like substance came out of the left nostril
of the queen ; it increased in bulk till it assumed
the shape of a terrible cobra and approached the
new king. Before however, it could reach him,
Cita drew out his sword and cut it to pieces.
The next morning the people of the city expected
to see the corpse of the king, as usual, but they
were glad beyond measure to see him living. He
told them of what had happened to the former
kings elected, and showed them the proof of his
cIta's wife delivers a son 181
valorous act by bringing the cup in which the
serpent's body, cut to pieces, was preserved by
him in the night previous.
Vasanta and his brother's wife, left alone,
became tired of waiting for ^ita, and as the
wife was very thirsty as well as anxious for ncAvs
about her husband, Vasanta left her, to make
enquiries about his brother and to fetch water, if
available, from some neighbouring tank. He
stood near a river, and not meeting his brother
began to shed tears ; these became pearls instant-
ly. A merchant saw him in that condition,
seized him with his pearls and carried him away
in his ship. Clta's wife was in
Oita's wife gives t . i n i
birth to a son who is extrcmc Qistrcss auQ all alone m
that wilderness she gave birth
to a son. She became senseless in consequence ;
and the kotwal of the neighbouring city seeing
her in unconscious state, lying in the forest with
an extraordinarily beautiful baby by her side,
kidnapped the baby and fled away. The kotwal
had no child and he adopted the baby as his son.
Time passed on, and the boy grew to manhood.
He overheard a conversation at this stage of
affairs, between two calves in the cow-shed
attached to his house, in which his whole family-
history was revealed to him. He came to know
that his mother had been saved from a tragic
end by a compassionate Brahmin in whose house
she still served as a maid servant. He also came
182 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
to know how his uncle Vasanta was kept confined
and was alternately flogged and tickled by the
merchant, in order to yield pearls and rubies, for
his tears produced the one and his laughs the other.
The young man instantly applied to the king who
was none else than Cita himself. He listened to
the strange story with attention and then sent men
to the merchant's house to search his dungeon. As
Vasanta was brought out from
The re-nnion. , /^ j • i j i • t
there, Cita instantly recognised
him though he looked greatly reduced and pale.
From the Brahmin's house the king recovered
his lost wife. How glad was he now to find
again his own wife, brother and son so long
known as the kotwaVs son. 'I he merchant, who
had so cruelly treated Vasanta was buried alive in
a pit which was filled up with earth and thorns.
Yet a fourth version of the story of Cita-
Vasanta we find in the collec-
veiw"""' '''"^"'' tionsof BabuDakshinaRanjan
Mitra Majumdar. It is in his
first series of folk tales that appeared under the
name of " Thakurmar jhuli," or " the grand-
mother's bag." The story runs thus :
A king had two wives, the more favoured one
was the Suo Rani, who had three sons ; they
were lean like jute stalks or bamboo- leaves. But
the less lucky wife, the Duo Rani had two sons,
handsome as cherubs. They were called Cita
and Vasanta. Their step-mother was very
CITA AND VASANTA ESCAPE 183
jealous of them. So she first tried to remove
then' mother from the palace. One day as both
the queens were bathing, the Suo Rani on the
pretext of doing the hair of her co-wife, tied a
magic root with her hair; the Duo Hani instantly
turned into a bird called the
The step-mother's » / • in mi
witch-craft and the tim-tiuii and Hew away. The
oi'der of execution on rj t* - • i.^ l l\ i.
the brothers. '^^^^^^ Kani gavc the report that
her co-wife was drowned ; and
the king was now absolutely in her hands. She
one day told a false story against the brothers
Cita and Vasanta, complaining that they had
grossly insulted her. She demanded of the king
an order for the immediate execution of the
brothers and the king saw no way but to comply
with her wishes. The executioner took them to
a deep forest and said " Princes, I was present
in the palace when you were born ; I was at one
time in charge of you ; I cannot apply sword to
your throat, whatever may befall me. Here take
this bark-dress. No one will recognise you as
princes in this dress. Go as fast as your legs
can carry you to the farthest end of this jungle,
and choose a- safe place." Saying so, he unbound
them, and set them at liberty. The executioner
took a quantity of blood, killing a dog and a jackal
on the spot, and made it over
The escape. i. i.i r,
to the queen who was now
satisfied that Duo Rani's sons were now removed
from this world for good.
184 FOLK LITERATURE OP BENGAL
jSTow the two princes went on, but the end of
the forest was not seen. Vasanta became very
thirsty and wanted Cita to get for him some
water from the neighbourhood. He was not only
thirsty, but so exhausted that he could not pro-
ceed any further. Cita left him there and went
in quest of water. He saw water-fowls coming
from some place and understood by that sign
that water was near. But on his way he saw a
white elephant running towards him with a rich
howda on its back. The elephant took him by
the trunk and, placing him on its back, quickly
walked towards the near city. This white
elephant was the ' king- maker ' and as the king
of that country had died without leaving an heir
to succeed to his throne, it was let loose to find
out a king for the people. The elephant wandered
about, from place to place every day, and return-
ed in the evening without carry-
Qita made a king. . • i ^ ^ d ^
mg any one on its back, tor he
could not discover the mark of royalty in any
person up to now. The sagacious animal after
a long search found such signs in ^Ita, so as soon
as he was brought to the city, he was duly
installed on the throne. All this time Vasanta
was in great distress and was on the point of
death by starvation and thirst, when an ascetic
took care of him and kept him in his hermitage.
Now the bird tvn-tuni, to which the Duo
Uani was transformed bv Suo Rani's witchcraft,
VASANTA A SUITOR 185
was caught by a princess named ROpavatl.
The king, her father, had proclaimed her sayam-
vara, or election oi a bridegroom by herself from
an assembly of invited princes. Many kings
had come there and many a prince and nobleman
stood suitors for the hand of Rupavati. But
RupavatI, before she visited the court to elect her
bridegroom, had asked the tuntuni bird " Whom
shall I elect as my husband, bird ?" The tuntuni
gifted with the power of speech,
Rilpavati's condition. ., ,, r^ ,1 / •^^ ^ •
said. One that will brmg you
a rare pearl t|j.at grows on the head of an elephant
on the sea-coast, will be your bridegroom, and
none other." So before the assembled princes,
Rupavati declared her condition, but she added,
" He who will seek the pearl but fail, will be my
slave." Many a prince went to the sea-shore and
saw the elephant but could not secure the pearl.
They became slaves of the princess Rupavati.
Now when (^Ita, who was the paramount
king in that country, heard all these, he was
very angry and said, " Why should she make
the sons of my feudal chiefs, the Bhtiia kings,
slaves ? " He accordingly got Rupavati arrested
and kept her in a compartment of the palace
all alone. Now Vasanta one day overheard
the conversation of two birds, (^uka and Cari.
In this conversation they disclosed the secret
by which the pearl on the head of the elephant
could be secured. There was a favoured spot
24
186 FOLK LITERATURE OP BENGAL
in the milk-white sea, in which there grew a
thousand lotuses in full bloom. The one in
the middle was of the colour of gold. There
the white elephant with the pearl on its head
played with the lotus of golden hue.
Vasanta learned the secret. He took from the
ascetic, in whose hermitage he lived, his magic
trident, and with it succeeded in reaching that
spot in the milk-white sea. As soon as the
sea was touched by the trident, it became dry.
The elephant itself turned into a golden lotus,
with the rare pearl inside it. Vasanta 'took it up
and when marching over the sands of the sea
he heai'd a cry, " We are your brothers trans-
formed into fish ; take us wdth you." Vasanta
,r . . ., duoj the sands and found three
vasanta gets the *-"
rare pearl. goMcU fish. Hc toolv tllCm
with him.
Now after ^Itaand Vasanta were driven from
the palace of their father, he lost his kingdom
and fled away in order to hide his shame.
The Suo Rani, reduced to abject poverty,
begged from door to door with the three princes,
her sons, for livelihood. She came in this way
to the seashore. The sea roared in rage and
„, ^ „ ,. cominff over the banks swal-
The transiormation ~
of the step-brothers lowed them bv Its waves.
into fish. '^
These three princes had been
reduced to the shapes of fish, whom the prince
Vasanta now took with him.
THEY ASSUME THEIR OWN FORMS 187
Now the king Clta one day had gone a-hunt-
ing into the depth of a forest ; he came near a
big tree which he at once recognised to be the
very one under which he had left Vasanta,
and had gone from there in quest of water, years
ago. The recollection of his brother came back
to him and he was overpowered by grief. His
men, however, came to his help and took him
to his capital, where he shut himself up in a
compartment of the palace, and for seven days
saw no one, nor ate anything, — for his grief
was great.
At this time Vasanta came up to the palace
and said to the royal guard, that he wanted to
visit the king. He had come with the pearl
which E-upavati wanted, besides he had brought
the three golden fish with him. The guard
requested him to wait for seven days. This he
did and when the king broke his fast, the three
golden fish were presented to him. They were
made over to a maid servant of the palace.
As soon as she tried to cut one of the fish and
dress it she heard it saying, " I am the king's
brother, do not kill me." The astonished maid
servant brought this to the notice of the king,
who wanted to see the man who had presented
the fish. Vasanta came before (^ita, and there
was great pathos as brother recognised brother.
And as soon as they touched the fish, these
assumed their own forms as their step-brothers.
188 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
" And where is our mother, Suo Rani ?"
asked Cita and Vasanta. And
The reunion. ,1 1 p ^i
the reply or the princes was
"Our mother died of grief/' "Where is our
father, the king ? " He lost his kingdom and
has gone away, nobody knows where."
Cita and Vasanta shed tears of joy at
meeting with each other, and of sorrow over the
fate of their parents alternately. Vasanta now
asked his brother to release Rupavati, which
was fortwith done. Vasanta knocked at her
doors and exclaimed, " See, bride, I have come
with the rare pearl that you wanted, make me
your husband." Rupavati turned to the tuntimi
and asked if the youth had really got the pearl
and was to be her bridegroom. " O yes " cried
the bird. Whereon Rupavati welcomed him
and put the garland of flowers, that she had
wreathed, round his neck as a sign of choosing
him to be her husband. Rupavati was so glad
that out of gratitude to the bird who had helped
her to get such an excellent husband, she bathed
it in milk and scented it with perfumes with her
own hands ; and in doing so she found some-
thing tied with the feather on its head. She
took it out and lo ! as soon as
The Duo Rani is
restored to her human ghc had doUC SO, the DuO Rani
form.
once again gained her own
form. She said that she was the mother of
Cita and Vasanta and the news spread with the
A COMPARATIVE REVIEW 189
speed of lightning, throughout the whole city. And
Cita and Vasanta and their step brothers were
in a moment down upon their knees before her,
weeping in joy to meet their mother whom they
had taken to be dead. The old king who had
been wandering like an ascetic came back to
meet his lost family. Cita and Vasanta and the
three young princes, their step-brothers, helped
him to gain his lost kingdom back and they
lived long years in happiness and prosperity.
It will appear from the four tales summarised
above, that there is little room for doubting that
all of these are different versions of one and
the same story. An alien influence is distinctly
marked in the Muhammadan version. The way
in which the step-mother shamelessly offered
her love to the two princes has not been
mentioned in my summary for the sake of
decency. The wickedness of the woman, her
unrestrained passion, coquetry and vulgarism
are of a shocking character. Such a tale
could not be told in a Hindu household. The
way in which the merchant's daughter and the
Chinese princess declared their love for Vasanta
in the Muhammadan version also discloses a lack
of that self-control which characterises the
heroines of the Hindu folk-tales. We need not
The language of the commeut ou the language of
Muhammadan version, ^^iQ Muhammadau vcrsiou. It
is no doubt Bengali but bears in a large measure
190 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
an admixture of Arabio and Persian words. As
a specimen we may quote a few lines : —
^fi?^ ^^^ ^51^1 7{^Z^ ^tfij^ I
wt^rfr^ ^^t^ ^i^ ^1 ^^ f^f^^ II
<ii^ ^t^ cm ^tt ^^^ ^x^tz'^ I
W\Z^ '^Ufi*\ ^si ^^ C^^C^^ II
%^^ W\^t^ ^^1 ^f^C^^ ¥t^1 II
(i5C^^ '©^ >f1^1 ^t^ ^t^ ¥C^ I
Nor is the next version — that by Harinath
Mazumdar — less interesting from the point of
view of the changes and innovations introduced
into a simple folk-tale. The author is resolved
upon improving the rural story by his pedantry
and scholarly knowledge of Sanskrit. A tale,
to possess an air of authority, and classical
dignity, in his opinion, must be derived from
Pauranic sources. So he altogether conceals
. „ „ the fact that he had heard the
The version of Hari-
nath Majumdar. story originally from the old
women of the country-side. He puts the
whole story in the mouth of that unweary
sage Vaisampayana, who has from age
to age added to and replenished the store of
tales in the Mahavarata. Vaisampayna tells
THE MODERN TOPICS 191
and Janmejaya hears. From hoary antiquity
down to the year 1859, when Vijaya-Vasanta
was written by Harinath Mazumdar, the teller
and the listener had sat facing each other ; and
we are not sure which to admire the most — the
power of narration without a limit, or that of
attentive hearing which knows no fatigue or
weariness. The Gandharva king is introduced ;
and following the characteristic traditions of
the Pauranic Renaissance that all evils of
the world are brought on by the curses of
Brahmins, Harinath traces the career of Cita
and Vasanta before they were born on the earth,
and makes them victims to Brahminic ire. But
the changes are not merely
ments introduced thcsc. All dcscriptious of men
into this version. , i p i
and women and oi nature are
indebted to Sanskritic sources forjtheir elegance
and classical style. The characters cite I'auranic
stories by way of reference in their daily con-
versations. They are all up-to-date and show
a liking for modern topics as well. Dissertations
on patriotism are given on p. 80, on female
education on pp. 107-110, on widow remarriage
on p. 85. Other burning questions of the day
are also treated by the author whenever an
opportunity presents iiself. The king Vijaya-
, , , Chandra and his wife Bimala
The up-to-date qnes-
t>o°s. visit the prison-houses of their
capital and give sermons to improve the morals
192 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
of the prisoners. His Majesty makes a laudahle
and vigorous eifort to spread a knowledge of
science and general geography amongst his people.
In one place (p. 84) we find a character crying
hoarse against the rite of SatI on the lines of Raja
Ram Mohan Roy. The names of the characters are
elegant Sanskritic words; Vijayachandra, Ramanl-
mohan and Vimala may be cited as examples.
The king's priest is Dhouma of the Pauranic
tradition. Harinath is not only a pupil of Sanskrit
poems and the Purilnas. but shows his knowledge
of Kalidasa's poetry by referring to ndi/ aula ta and
agramalata, the creeper of the king's garden and
that of a hermitage, in a passage of his work (p.99).
He belonged to the society of educated Bengal
in the early part of the 19th century and the
age spoke through him. So how could he help
giving all that was fashionable in the cultured
society of his times in a work which, though
based on an ancient rural story, was recast and
re-written with a view to entertain the young
men of his generation. The style has the
stamp of that of Vidya-sagara, refined, rigidly
accurate and heavy with pompous classical
words. We need only quote the first sentence
which is typical of the style of the entire work.
"^^?^ nfrf^^ ^^® ^t^^i ^^ti ^^ ^f^]
Specimen ot l.in-
^^ ^U5 cTtfn«i i"
LAL BEHARI'S VERSION 193
This reminds us at once of the characteristic
style of Vidya-sagara's Sakuntala and Sitar
Vanavasa. The rural element in which, however,
lay the unassuming poetry and simplicity of the
people was out of favour in the early part of the
18th century, and Harinath as an exponent of
the taste of his times changed the manner and
style of narration of the folk-tale by giving in it
a preponderance of Sanskritic words. But as stat-
ed by me in the foregoing portion of this lecture,
the work of Harinath possesses remarkable pathos
in the earlier chapters, such as only Vidya-
sagara alone could show in some of his finest
works.
Next if we take up the version of the story
given by the Rev. Lalbehari De, we find that
his account is not always an
Lalhehari De's Story. . mi
accurate one. True, he repro-
duced it as he heard it, but being a Christian,
he could not always get the materials of the
folk-tales at first-hand. In his version we find a
portion of the story of Malati Kusuma dove-tailed
into that of Cita-Vasanta. The account of a baby
who was kidnapped by a nobleman from the
arms of its mother, lying senseless after delivery,
and the subsequent union of the mother with
her son grown up to manhood, forms a part of
many old folk-tales in Bengal. This account
we also find in the story of (J^ankhamala in
Dakshinaranjan's second collection called the
25
194j folk literature or bengal
Thakurdadar Jhuli or the grand- father's bag.
We think that this episode was originally a part
of the story of Cankhamala from which it was
taken and joined to other stories. But whatever
it he, the Rev. Mr. De has described in this
story how the kidnapped child, when he grew up
to proper age, conceived a passion for his
own mother without knowing her to be so.
This seems very repelling. And as we have
condemned a similar thing in the Muhammadan
version of this story we do it also here, though
it must be said to the credit of the Rev. Mr. De
that he has dealt with this part of the story
very cautiously so that its impropriety has not
become too prominent. Mr. De tells us that
his old friend Sambhu's mother from whom
he had heard many folk tales had died before he
collected the stories for his work, " The Folk-
tales of Bengal," and that therefore he had to
depend for them upon a christian woman who
evidently had lost some of her old memories. At
least she could not have given him a strictly
faithful version of the Hindu folk-tales. The
episode of one of the brother's eating the flesh
of a bird or fish by w^hich he got the power of
producing rubies and pearls by smiles and tears
is analogous to the European story of the Salad
in the Grimm Brothers' Collections.
Last of all is the version of Daksinaranjan
Mitra Majumdar. It is not affected by any
8AKHI SONA BY KORBANALI 196
pedantry or scholarship in classic literature or
any modern propaffandism ; for
The Buperiority of AT'i. ^r • i •
Dakshinaranjan's Mitra Majumdar IS too humble
a scholar to aim at higher
things. He is in love with the tales as they are
related by the rural people of the lower Gangetic
valley, and gives a faithful version of svhat he
has heard. Nor do his stories bear any exotic
influence — Persian, Arabic, or even Sanskritic.
The language is that in which our grandmothers
used to tell tales, — simple, even archaic, full of
naive rural charms, and always to the point.
There is nowhere a display of vain learning or
straying out of the main subject in order to hold
disquisitions on the burning questions of the
day. But as we shall have to deal with his
folk -tales more elaborately in course of our
lectures, we cut short our comments here.
There are many folk-tales which we have
got in common from the Hindu
TliG story of Sakhi i T»/r i i ^
Sona. and Munammadan sources, and
this we have already noticed.
Another very interesting story repeated by many
writers is that of Sakhi-sona. The compiler
of the Muhammadan version is one Muhammad
Korban Ali — an inhabitant of Butuni in the sub-
division of Manikgani, Pergannah Sindurijan
in the district of Dacca. The story of Sakhi-
sona that he give&, is briefly summarised
as follows.
196 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
Tn a place called Taef, there lived a poor man
named Syed. He had a wife, and
Muhammad Korban i • j. i e -i * ii
Aii's version. none else in the tamily. As they
were in extremely indigent
circumstanes, Syed had frequently to hear
insulting treatment from his wife who was a
shrew. One day when Syed could by no means
secure food, his tart- tempered wife rebuked and
insulted him grossly, taking him to task for indulg-
ing in the luxury of a wife before he could provide
for her comforts. Syed bore the insult quietly but
resolved to put an end to his wife's life and thus be
saved from the state of things
Syed carried home a . i , i ^ tt
cobra to kill his wife. that occurrcd every day. He
accordingly secured a poisonous
cobra and put it inside an earthen pot and carried
it home. He planned to open the cover of the
pot at the dead of the night, and to place it near
his sleeping wife. But when at midnight he
actually opened the cover, instead of the veno-
mous animal that was inside the pot, he found
it filled with gold coins. He was of course very
glad at the discovery, and his wife's anger against
him was all gone when he produced the pot
before her, and said that he had earned the
wealth by great labour. By
goM coins" '"" "'° Syed's order, his wife took the
pot to the palace of the Badsha
of that country and sold the gold coins to his
Besjum for a thousand rupees.
SAKHI HON A BY KORBANALI 19*7
The Begum thought that she had made a
bargain, and kept the wealth in her iron safe,
and when in the morning she brought it out to
show to the Badsha, he, instead of finding
the gold coins that she had seen there the day
before, found in it a smiling baby — a girl of
exquisite beauty. The King Avho was child-
less was right glad to have this baby, — far more
glad than if the pot had actually contained gold
as had been reported to him by his wife. 'I'he
news was announced throughout the capital that
a girl was born to the Begum and there were
great rejoicings in the palace
The strange baby in , ■■ . j. rrn • i
the earthen pot. over this oveut. The girl was
named Sakhi-sona. Just at the
moment when the king's palace resounded with the
music of the nahahat orchestra announcing the
glad news, the mansion of the Uzir of the king's
court witnessed similar festivities, though on a
much smaller scale, on the occasion of a son being
born to him. This son was called Manik. The
Badsha's astrologers prophesied that Sakhi-sona,
who was born under the influence of the Scor-
pion, would elope with a youth when she
had reached womanhood.
The Uzir's son Manik and the princess
Sakhi-sona read in the same Mokhtab. When
they grew up to youth, they fell in love with each
other; but one could not speak of " the passion
that burnt within" to the other for shame.
198 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
One day, however, an opportunity presented
itself. Sakhi-sona's paper in the school dropped
from her hands below, and she asked Manik to
get it from the ground and hand it to her.
Manik eyed her with a look in which a longing
desire was hardly suppressed.
Msnikand Sakhi-sona and Said that If she ppomiscd
in love with one , , , . , . , -i . i
another. to pledge somethmg to him, he
would do so. Sakhi-sona agreed
knowing full well the significance of his sugges-
tive words, and from thence they met in a compart-
ment of the palace every day. A maid-servant
of the princess one day dicovered their intrigue
and advised them to go away from the palace
as they were sure to be detected some day or
other.
Sakhi-sona dressed herself as a young valorous
youth with a sword hanging by her side and
Manik was also similarly dressed. Both mounted
swift horses and left the palace at the dead of the
night. From a deep iunffle
They leave the city. ^, r J n
they came out after a day's
fatiguing ride and coming near a cottage stopped
there. The old lady of the house seemed very
hospitable, but she was the mother of seven
dacoits who just at that moment were not in the
house. She gave her guests wet fuel and rice
mixed with grains of stones, so that it took them
considerable time to kindle a fire and cook the
rice. But a woman of that house had whispered
SAKHI SONA BY KOUBANALI 199
in their ears that the house belonged to dacoits
who would sooa return and rob them of every
thing they had. Manik and Sakhi-sona instantly
mounted their horses and fled away ; but the old
woman had, before their departure, tied a
small bundle of mustard seed to the tail of
each of the horses. So, as they proceeded, the
seeds fell on the ground marking their path,
without their knowledge of the device of the
cunning old woman. The dacoits, seven brothers,
returned home, and their mother regretted their
lateness in coming back, saying that the guests
who had escaped, were enor-
the"dacoite. ^'"'^^ "^ mously rich, their crowns, and
necklaces sparkled with pearls
and diamonds. The seven brothers lost no time but
mounting the swiftest horses in their stalls march-
ed with the speed of lightening and overtook the
princess and Manik. A fierce skirmish ensued, and
Manik who was a superior swordsman killed six
of the robbers : but the seventh who was a lame
man, implored for mercy and
Manik kills six and . , i i • to o> i i •
is killed by the ManiK granted him life. Sakhi-
seventh. _ .
sona was not lor showing him
any mercy, but Manik was kind to him and ap-
pointed him to be in charge of the horses to give
them food and drink. But the dacoit felt a flame
of passion for Sakhi-sona, and secretly planned
to kill Manik and seize her. So when one day
Manik had fallen asleep and Sakhi-sona was busy
200 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
ill the kitchen, the dacoit took a sword and cut
ott" the head of Manik. 8akhi-sona lamented the
loss of her husband and killed the lame dacoit
and then prayed to god to restore her hus-
band's life. A pir (saint) came there at this
stage of affairs and taking pity on Sakhi-sona,
restored Manik to life. The couple Avere now
happy beyond measure on being restored to
each other, and they rode their horses again till
they came to the cottage of a flower- woman
named Champa. She at once
Manik restoi-ed to . , . n ^ir- '^
life and is transformed conceiveu a passiou lor ManiK,
inte a monkey. i -i •> i cj. i i r. •
and by witchcraft turned him
into a monkey; Sakhi-sona, who was not just at
that moment with her lord, knew nothing about
his strange transformation, and seeking him
everywhere in vain bitterly lamented for him.
The monkey in the night assumed the form of
man, by the spell of Champa, and she spent the
night with him. If he attempted to escape he
was again turned into a monkey.
Sakhi-sona now led the two horses, the one that
of herself and the other that of Manik, by their
reins and walked from place to place enquiring
about her husband. She was dressed as a man and
was arrested by the officers of the king of that
country on a charge of theft of the two horses
from the royal stall. She was thrown into
prison. At this time a very large serpent appear-
ed in the citv of the king ; it ate goats, cows
SAKHI SON A BY KOHBANALI 201
and men ; even tigers and l)ears were devoured
by this dreadful reptile. The king's officers
with guns shot with fruitless aim at it ; the shots
failed to pierce through its tough skin. The
king proclaimed a large reward to one who would
kill the animal and save his subjects from des-
truction. Sakhi-sona dreamt in the prison that a
pir (saint) appeared to her and told her the
secret of killing the serpent. In the morning
she sent w^ord to the king, that if she were
released, she could kill the serpent. She w^as
of course all along taken for a young man and the
king forthwith ordered her release. She ap-
proached the serpent from behind and struck
her sword in the manner in which she was
advised to do so by the pir
Sakhi-sona kills a . on i i
serpent and nianies m her drcam. She had there-
the princess. „ , .^vj i, . -, .„.
tore no dilnculty m killmg
the animal. When she succeeded in this enter-
prise, the king gave her his promised rew^ard.
And when she told her story of the sufferings
caused to her by the king's Police officers on
mere suspicion, declaring her own innocence in
respect of the charge of theft of the horses, the
king was very much ashamed ; for, he could not
disbelieve anything that she said. The king,
as a token of his appreciation of her heroism,
and also to make up for the injustice done to her,
resolved to [give his only daughter in marriage
to her, taking her to be a valorous and an
26
202 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
accomplished youth. She readil)' consented to
the proposal and married the princess. But the
latter, after a short time, felt that there was
something strange and mysterious in the con-
duct of her husband ; for, Sakhi-sona kept aloof
from her for fear of detection. Meantime the
monkey who assumed his human form every
night, wrote a letter to Sakhi-sona describing his
condition. As soon as she read it, she asked the
king to get for her the particular monkey belong-
ing to the flower- woman. Inspite of the latter's
protestations, the monkey was brought to the
palace, and when in the night
his^'owj^for'^"' '° he got back his own form he
related the story of his sad
transformation into the shape of a monkey by the
witch-craft of the flower- woman. The woman was
obliged to undo her spell on him. So he was himself
once more. The flower- woman after this was
beheaded by the order of the king for her wicked-
ness. The king, knowing now that
Manik marries an- i i •
other princess and is Shaklll-SOUa WaS a WOmaU, mar-
happy with two wivps. .11. , ,, , -,-. ., .,,
ried his daughter to Manik with
the consent of Sakhi-sona. And he lived long in
prosperity and happiness with both his wives.
The story of Sakhi-sona was rendered into
Bengali verse by the illustrious poet Fakir
Rama Kavibhusana, who was
Fakir Rama's version. . » ; i -r-» i i .
a native of the Burdwan dis-
trict and flourished in the middle of the 16th
SAKHI SONA BY FAKIR RAMA 203
century. The story as told by this writer who
was a poet of the Hindu Renaissance is briefly
summed up as follows.
The princess Sakhi-sona and Kumara, the
son of the kotical, or the prefect of the Police,
used to read in the same school. The seat
of the princess was an elevated platform over
the gallery in which the classes were held.
Sakhi-sona's pen one day dropped below, let us
say, by a mere accident, from her seat. And
she asked Kumara to pick it up for her. Not
once, but thrice did the pen drop that day, and on
the third time Kumara extorted a promise before
. he would pick up the pen for her, to the effect
that he would do so on condition that she would
comply with his wishes whatever they might be.
Heedlessly did Sakhi-sona run into the agreement,
but what were her wonder and
sonMfKho'r'""- indignatioii, when Kumara
demanded to marry her and
run away with her from her father's palace ?
For after such an inequal marriage, the king
would not brook the pair to live with him,
though she was the only legal heir to the throne.
Sakhi-sona said in rage, " You villain, dare
you say so ? Do you know that your body will
not bear the burden of your head if this be
brought to the notice of the king ? Por a trifle
of help that you did me, you venture to insult
me in this way."
204 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
Kumara said, " If you say so, no more. I
do not press my request. But the moral binding
nevertheless remains the same
The inviolable pro- i mi
miss. m either case. You can kill
me, princess, but if you break
your promise you cannot avoid the eyes of God
who sees everything.
" Kama, for a simple word that he had given
to his father, left his kingdom and turned an
ascetic. Dasaratha, his father, died of grief, but
yet did not break his promise. Rama, the pure-
hearted killed Vail in a questionable manner,
simply for a promise that he had given to
Sugrlva. If you break promise, well and good,-
you will be lowered in my estimation and thai of
your Maker, what more?"
Sakhi-sona felt humbled, before this appeal to
God. For she had given a promise and there was
no doubt about it. After many conflicting
emotions which caused her sleepless nights, she
decided to leave the palace and join Kamara.
She excused herself of a little delay that had
occurred, in the following manner : — " my maids
are constantly with me ; how for shame can I
come out ? The queens will not leave my side
for a moment. Some cover me with the hem
of their garments ; some fan me, and some wave
the soft chamara. One offers me betel, and
another kisses me with great love, and a third
calls my attention by such words as ' Hear me,
SAKHI SONA BY FAKIR RAMA 205
my dearest child, I will tell you a story.' And
yet another weaves floral wreath for me and
wants to know if I like it."
Before leaving the palace, she had taken a
parting view of the sleeping queens and solilo-
quised in this way: "Hence-
The Princess's lament. r, ,■• in .
forth we shall meet no more.
Like a boat trusting itself to the current, I
trust my youth to fate. Do not weep, dear
queens, when you miss me — your hapless child.
Burn my throne and royal couch, for they will
torment your eyes. Olfer all my books lying
in heaps in my chamber as a present to the
Brahmins. Forbear to enter into my apartment,
it will grieve you ever so much. My golden
plates and cups and vessels adorned with precious
stones, distribute among the poor. My jewels
and ornaments send to the royal treasury, and
adieu queens, adieu for life."
She had met her preceptor in the way who ad-
vised her not to take the rash step, but to return
to the palace. But she said that as she had given
the pledge, it was sacred and inviolable.
In the way the princess did not say any word
to signify her love for Kumara. She was far
too much moved by her grief
They leave the palace- . ... „. -, , ,. ^
m cutting on: her home-ties tor
ever. Like Gareth following Lynette, Kumara
followed his love — wooing her at every step. But
she heeded not, now looking at the cow that had
206 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
lost its young one, and then sighing over some
other thing she saw in her way that reminded
her of the home that she had deserted. But
when the spring came and the trees that had
looked like skeletons in winter became covered
with luxurious foliage, " the Princess and
Kvimara delighted in each other's company and
the former forgot her old sorrows for a time."
" Nature had given her a form of surpassing
beauty ; now the dawn of youth made her a marvel.
She never had passed the
The advent of spring. ,, iiip i-ii i'i>
threshold or a kitchen ; and it
her hair was untied, never did she adjust it with
her own hands, — but her maids for her. Never
had she learnt to blow the fire with her breath ;
and as she did it now, the smoke of the wet
fuel made her face pale and sad. The smoke
stifled her breath and the fire of the hearth wel-
nigh burnt her skin. Alas, once even the heat of
a lamp-light was too much for her ; but with the
smoke and fire of the hearth she continued her
struggle to cook a humble meal."
Both of them were journeying on horseback
when a great cyclone overtook them. "The trees
of Cuttack were carried down to
The cyclone. /-. i -,
Hmglat. (jroats and cows were
forced to fly on the high air like winged things.
Seldom from the palace had the princess walked
abroad on foot, and when she passed from one
room to the other, the maids spread a rich carpet
SAKHI SONA BY FAKIR RAMA 207
on the court-yard ; and when walking in the sun a
guard used to hold a golden nmbrella over her
head. But now the hailstones beat incessantly
against her head, and it seemed at each stroke
her very skull would break. " 0 my love " she
asked, "what will become of us? Erom the
storm, the rain and the hailstonas no escape I
see. What path should we follow. The thick
hailstones will ere long kill us both. The light-
ning's flash frightens my steed, and the striking
of his hoofs on the hard ground produces fire.
The storm suffocates me and I feel as if the
breath of life itself would cease."
Suffering in this way from the furious weather
and her own mental anguish, she with her
husband came to a cottage
In the cottage of the ^^^^q]^ belonged to sovcu rob-
robbers. ~
bers. Kumara killed six of
them, but the seventh implored pardon Avhich
out of magnanimity he granted. But when
Kumara fell asleep, the mis-
resToreftoSe''^ ^"'^ ^^^aut killed Mm. Sakhi-sona
prayed goddess Chandi for
mercy, and she restored Kumara to life. Kumara
was next turned into a goat by the witch-
craft of a flower-woman named Hira and
the king of that country Narad ha j a carried
Sakhi-sona by force into his compartment
for females. Sakhi-sona said that, before she
would agree to marry the king for which he
208 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
pressed, she must perform some religious rite,
which was to be completed after a year, with
due solemnity. The king agreed to wait till
that time. And at the end of the year, when
her period of religious observances was over, she
asked the king to provide her
intlTgoat''"^"''''""'^ with a particular goat that was
in the possession of Hira, the
flower-woman. For Chandi had appeared to
the princess in a dream, and told her that her
husband had been transformed into a goat by
Hira. Hira was obliged to produce the goat by the
king's order, and the princess by the power of
the spell that Chandi had taught
The reunion. , p ii -i i i i i i
her, torthwith restored her hus-
band to his own form, Naradhaja saw in the
transformation of the goat into a man the mercy
of the goddess Chandi, and ungrudgingly shared in
the joy of the couple who had met after a long
year of bitter separation. Meantime the old king
Vikramajit, the father of Sakhi-sona, had heard
all about his daughter and Kumara, who had
been so long missing, and now pardoned their
marriage, and took them to his own city and
made them heirs to his throne at death.
The most authentic version of this story,
however, is the one compiled by
Dakhina Ranjan's -g^ jy ^ ^-^^.^ MaZUmdcr.
version.
The story is called Puspamala
and not Sakhi-sona. Mitra Majumder has
PUSPA AND CHANDANA 209
given the oldest form of the story, which is also
the most accurate form. Whether the name
Sakhi-soiul or Puspamala is the older name of
the heroine is open to question, hut that is an
immaterial point. In hriefly summarising this
version of the tale, I heg leave to state that the
peculiar excellences of the original form of
some of our folk-tales will he the subject of a
somewiiat elaborate analytical review^ in one of
my future lectures. Here for the purpose of
comparison, I subjoin a very brief summary of
the story under review.
A Raja happened to enter into a contract
with his kotaiDcil that if a daughter be born
to him and a son to the Jwta-
The Raja's pledge. 711 i i i • , i
ical, they Avouid be united
in marriage. But if instead, a daughter were
born to the kotaical and a son to the king,
the kolawal would be beheaded. These were
the w^himsical ways of the autocrats of those
days. So no question was raised as to the
propriety of the oath insisted on by the
sovereign, and the hotaioal had only to submit.
It so happened that just at the same moment
the queen and the kotawaVs w^ife ran into a
similar agreement, while they were bathing
in a tank called the Futra-sarovara, The
world knew nothing about these pledges. The
king with the point of his arrow wrote his pledge
on a fig-leaf and handed it to the kotawal.
27
210 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
A daughter was born to the king and a son
to the hotawal ; the princess was called Puspa-
mala and the hotawaVs son Chandana. They
used to read in the same school and each day
from the high seat on which the princess sat, she
dropped her pen below, and Chandana used to
pick it up for her at her re-
Cliaiidaiia and Saklii- l r~\ ^ i -i
sona at school. qucst. Ouc dav wheu he
picked up the pen, and she
bent herself a little to receive it from his
hands, their eyes met, and Chandana the
next dav said, " Princess, if vou exchansre
garlands with me, then shall I pick up
the pen from the ground for you ; else
I will not." An angry look came from the
princess as she said, " Don't you remem-
ber, lad, that you dwell in my father's
kingdom ? Have you no fear of life that you
dare say so ?"
Chandana said, "Why should I fear, princess r
I know that my ancestors have for several
generations shed their blood to build up this
kingdom for your father."
The princess said nothing more that day.
The next day her pen did not drop. But as
Chandana was cleaning his own pen, it escaped
his hand and fell on the the princess' apparel
spotting it with ink. Chandana was abashed at
this, and the princess also felt a shame which she
could hardly conceal, but she pushed the pen with
THE SOLEMN PLEDGE 211
licr fiDger so that it dropped beloAv. Chandana
took it up and said, " Many a day did I pick up
your pen from the ground, to-day your gentle
hand has pushed mine down to reach me.
This earth is sacred because the flower blooms
here. I charge you by tlie sacred earth and l)y
the sun and the moon that illuminate her, that
there has been an exchange of some sort."' Saying
so Chandana went away silently with the pen
touched by the princess leaving his books
and other things in the school. The princess
was lost in her thoughts, and it was at a very
late hour that she returned home that afternoon.
The maid-servants had been long waiting with
soaps and perfumes for her toilet.
But Chandana one day brought her a leaf on
which the king had written the pledge, and on
another occasion she came to know of the promise
made by the queen to Chandana's mother.
The king had absolutely ignored his promise
and the queen would not even bear to ])e
reminded of hers. If the Jwtmcal or his
wife ever alluded to it, they were thre^Uened
with death.
The princess, however, felt that the pledge
was solemn in the eyes of God, however lightly
her parents might now regard it in the pride
of their power. She said to herself, "Alas, now
I feel Avhy my pen dropped from my hands
every day. A destiny l)inds me to the young
212 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
Chandana, my parents' pledge must be fulfilled.
I must be his wife."
She wept and could not sleep, the floml fan
dropped from her hand on her breast ; and the
next morning a change in her was observed by all.
On other days when she came to school, the
jingle of her ornaments sounded like the merry
hum of bees, but that day she
Thev leave the j i • i ^ i ti
palace' stolc luto the room like a
guilty soul quietly and silently.
The teaclier marked it and said, " Princess,
on other days the sweetness of your voice,
while reciting lessons, pleases every one ;
how is it that your voice to-day seems so dull ?"
Chandana looked at Puspa and Puspa looked at
Chandana ; their eyes met again and she blushed
drawing the veil over her face. Then the
princess with hands that trembled produced the
fig-leaf containing the king's pledge. Both of
them said to their guru^ " Should we, or should
we not, keep our parents' pledge ?" The teacher
felt alarmed when he saw the leaf and read its
contents, but collecting himself after a while
said in a clear, firm voice, "If you keep the
pledge, your seat will be in heaven, if not,
your place will be in hell.'* Then the princess
made Chandana sit on the high throne reserved
for her in the school, and she sat below where
Chandana used to sit. They bowed to their
teacher, and the princess laid her ornaments,
THE MOTIIEK OF THE ROBBEllS 21:5
lier bracelet* and necklaces, studded with-
})i'€cious stoues. at his feet and asked him to
accept them as her humble present at tlie close
of her school career. x\nd both of them said,
" To help the king to keep his words is to
maintain the honour of his kingdom. We leave
the city to-day."
Before she had left her father's palace, the
princess cooked a good meal herself. It was
a lyreat strain on her nerves to leave her father's
house for good, and frequently did she wipe
away her tears with her sculi. She offered the
food to her parents, relations and servants and
even to the domestic animals. It was the last
time that she was permitted to serve them. Just
at the time Chandana signalled to her ; as she
heard it she did not w^ait to take her own meal.
She ran to Chandana and bowing low at his
feet, fainted away. For the whole night Chandana
fanned her with the cloth that he tore off from his
turban and said to himself, " How can I preserve
this jewel stolen from the serpent's hood ?'*
But she was all right the next morning, and
both of them rode on and on, till they reached
a cottage standing in the middle of a clearing.
It belonged to an old woman, the mother
of seven robbers, who had
rolbe.''''"'^'"'''" .iust a moment before gone
abroad on their wicked trade.
She showed great hospitality to the couple and
214 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
marked with delight the precious ornaments
on the person of the princess. She gave
them rice mixed with gravels, pulse which
was old and dry, and a wet hearth and damp
fuel. All these caused delay in cooking. The
princess and Chandaua Avent to hatlie, but the
landing steps Avere made slippery for them by
Avater ; and Avhen they tried to come up to the
bank by some other way, the old Avoman cried,
"Not that Avay, dear, it is unclean." And Avhen
they tried a different way, the old Avoman came
again and said, "Not thither, my children, there
are thorns." By such petty devices she caused
delay, expecting her sons to come in the mean-
time and plunder the guests.
The pair came to the kitchen and the torn
turban noAV stood them in good stead. Fire was
kindled by means of it. And they, rightly
suspecting danger, came out by the back-door,
and got on their horses and fled. The fire on
the hearth gave a aa rong impression, for, the old
woman thought that her guests were busy
cooking their meal. But what was her surprise
when peeping into their room she found them
gone. And from the stall their horses Avere gone
too. She was, hoAvever, a very clever woman ;
for as soon as the couple had entered her
house leaving their horses in the stall, she had
collected some white seeds. These she had put in
small pieces of cloth and tied to the horses'
THE YOUNGEST llOBBER 215
fetlocks. The small bundles had been pierced
through with a needle, so that when their
riders fled, the seeds fell on the ground by
twos and threes all over the track, and as
they fell they turned into white flowers.
The robbers on return easily overtook the
guests by these beautiful signs. There ensued
a fight and the six brothers fell as Chandana
was a superior swordsman. The seventh
implored mercy. The princess said, " No,
dear, it is not safe to keep a part of debt, hoAv-
ever small ; all should be cleared ; do the same
with an enemy, howsoever
.oS::S:t^.daLKn;: Ushtly you may think of him."
seventh!' '''""^ ^^ ^^'' But Chaudaua said, "Eoolish,
what can he do ? he will be
our attendant." So the life of the robber
was spared and he became their servant. He
burnt, however, with vengeance, and Avhen
one day Chandana had fallen asleep, killed
him with his sword. The princess did not weep
but smiled, and said, " What am I to do
now ?" The robber was very glad at this and
said, "All right, now come to my house, dear."
The princess assented. So l)oth of them rode
back and Puspa said, "It is surely a happy
day for us both, will you not accept this betel
from mo ?" He, in eagerness, stretched himself
forward to receive the betel from the princess,
as a siscn of her love, and she in the twinkling
2i6 FOLK LITERA^TUilE OF BENGAL
of an eye cut off his head with a stroke of her
sword.
Now she alighted from her horse and threw
herself on the ground where her husband's head
lay severed from the body ; she had so long
controlled herself by superhuman efforts but
now her tears were unceasing. She held the
head close to her breast and cried, " Hoav long,
dear, will you remain silent and not talk with
me ?" " Erom morn to noon " she wept and
" from noon to deAvy eve." It was a dark night.
The god Civa and his consort ParvatI were pass-
insj bv the skv at this time. The sjoddess said,
" Stop, husband, who is it that is weeping below ?"
Civa replied, " No matter, who, let us pass on."
Parvati said, " That can never be. A woman's
lament I hear. O who art thou, unfortunate
woman, grieving over a dead child or a dead
husband ? I must see thee." Then as she looked
down below, her eyes met a
Restoration to life. n , -i »
sad spectacle. A woman was
bathing a head, severed from the body, in her
tears and crying, " 0 my husband, O my darling."
The goddess was moved by the sight and res-
tored Chandanato life.
After thanksgivings and great elation, the
couple again rode on, till they reached the
house of a flower-woman. She was a witch.
As soon as she met them, she eyed them
malignantly, and Chandana turned into a goat,
THE l)A]liNG SOLUlEll 2l7
but her charm did not affect Puspa as she was
true and chaste. Puspa was dressed like a young
soldier. She approached the king of that country
and said, "Here am I seeking service in your
majesty's personal staff." "What can you do for
me, lad, and what should l)e your pay ?" asked
the king. " My pay is one shield full of gold
coins per day, and I can do what others
cannot." The king assented to her demand
and employed her. Just then a huge reptile
appeared in the city of the king, and swallowed
men and beasts every night,
i'uspa kills the cobra.
for in the night only it
made its appearance and none could kill it.
It was generally seen by the side of a
large tank near the palace and passed
by a deep forest abounding Avith Sal
trees. The young soldier was ordered to kill
it. She was busy in the afternoon cutting the
tall sal trees Avith the fine end of the sword
with such wonderful dexterity that the trees
stood as before and none could know that they
had been cut in the middle. At night a deep
uproar mixed with a hissing sound was heard as
the serpent moved about in the jungle, and no
sooner had it come to the bank of the tank, than
the trees touched by it, fell in hundreds upon
its body, and the monster lay crushed under
their weight. The young soldier next engaged
herself in cutting the body to pieces. But
28
218 POLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
when the animal gave up its ghost, there sprang
from its body a middle aged Avoman. She told
Puspa that she was her mother transformed
into that shape because she had failed to fulfil
her pledge to the wife of the hotioal and Puspa
recognised in her the queen — her own mother,
who also stated that the old king, her father,
had become a sweeper in tliat palace for the sin
of his breaking his pledge. And as she said
this she died at the spot and Avhere she died
a flower plant grew as a memorial.
Not lonsf after Chandana Avas restored to
human form by the grace of Parvati who was
pleased with Puspa's devotion. Puspa told
Chandana, "What is the good of my life when
mv father is a sweeper and my
The happy eiul. " ,^ -i- ^ , i
mother died as a serpent be-
cause of me r" She was resolved on committing
suicide, but Parvatl's grace again helped them,
and the queen got her life back and the king
was restored to his kiuEfdom which he had
lost by divine curse for breaking tlip pledge.
Chandana and Puspa were united in wedlock
by the sanction of the king and the queen. The
kotioal was raised to the status of a feudal
chief so that the king was no longer ashamed
of calling him a friend and relation. The
IcotimV" wife, now a lady of high rank. ])ecame
"a fast friend of the queen. They now lived in
happiness and prosperity for long years.
THE MOGALHA.RI IIUINS 219
iu the version of Fakir Ram Kavibhusana
the father oV the princess Sakhisona, is
Kiuij;' Vikramjit. There is a village called
Mogalniari i\\o miles to the north ol"
Datan a\ hich some of our scholars have iclenti-
tied with the ancient historic town of Dantapur
in Orissa. At Mog'ahnari there are ruins of
a palace ^vhich people of the locality ascribe to
Raja Vikramjit and they say Sakhisona of the
folk story was the only daughter of that king.
A mound of earth is still pointed out there
as relics of the schoolroom of the princess
where she pledged her hand to the hotwaVs
son. Many places of our country are associated
in this way with our legendary heroes and
Pauranic characters. But unless Ave have
clear evidence we cannot accept such accounts
as historically true. What happens is this.
A man gives out a story in respect of some
ruins in liis locality consulting his fancy,
and his statement is taken as a historical fact
by the simple village-folk and it passes
current throughout the neighbouring locality
and goes unassailed from generation to genera-
tion. I do not believe that these attempts to
connect places with the heroes of legends and
popular romances should be treated as having
any historical value.
All these stories, I beg to repeat, have been
greatly abridged by me, and if the reader wants
220 FOLK LITERATURE OT BENGAL
to compare them and have fuller knowlege of
their details he must go back to the originals
themselves. If we take up the Muhanimadan
version for a critical review, we see, as we have
already observed, that with the
Tlie deterioration of
he Hindu ideal o
jhastity in th
Mahomedan version.
the Hindu ideal of l^^s of the Hiudu ideal of
chastity in the wouiauly virtuc amougst the
rank and file of converts to
Islam, immodesty in sexual matters was no
longer thought of as a matter of serious social
condemnation. The lower class of Muhammadans
revel in unrestrained language while dealing
with the topics of the passion of the flesh. The
self-immolation of a Sati, though its propriety is
justly called in question on humane grounds, the
self-denial and austerities of widowhood enjoined
by the Hindu scriptures, the loyalty that does not
break after husband's death but continues to
inspire a woman's soul through the rest of her
life — these ideals of women were withdrawn from
the community of converts, and the result was
that the folk-lore amongst them degenerated from
the standpoint of the high Hindu conception of
devotion and purity. The story of Sakhisona
shows this decadence of the lofty Hindu spirit in
a striking manner. Sakhisona with her hair all
loose and dishevelled stands on the roof of her
palace enjoying the warmth of the sun on a
wintry day ; her charms are exposed to the
gaze of Kumara who feels the "dart of Cupid
THE HINDU IDEAL 221
piei'ce his broast outright," and then when they
meet in the school he seduces her in the langu-
age of a low class del)auch. She listens to him
with her heart throbbing with passion ; and they
meet shamelessly in a room of the palace every
night. What a contrast does such a scene of
lust, introduced by a Muhammadan writer, offer to
that quiet self-control which we find in the
original Hindu story ! Pre-nuptial love is un-
known in our community but sometimes it finds
a place in our folk-tales, as it does in the present
case. It is, however, couched in guarded
language showing a high sense of sexual purity
even amongst our rustic folk. In the Hindu
version of this tale, stress is justly laid upon
the word of honour and upon the pledge of
parents, justifying the abandonment of home
in the company of a lover, which divested from
any such moral obligation, is in itself a horrible
thing to our men and women. Peruse the
Hindu tale and nothing will jar against your ears
in respect of the elopement of a princess with
a youth of humbler rank. The woman stands
elevated in your eyes inspite of what she did.
And yet what she did was deliberate and well-
planned, not conceived at the spur of the
moment. A grossly sensuous element, on the
other hand, permeates the Muhammadan version.
The immodesty of the princess meeting a lover
before she is married to him will strike every
222 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
Hindu reader and in our Zenaua the Avomeu will
not bear to hear a story like that. The robber,
whose life is spared, feels a passion for the
princess, and says or thinks nothing of his
murdered brothers. The llower-woman also
conceives a passion for Kumara, whom she
transforms into a goat but restores to human
shape every night. The writer says " they spend
the night in jolly spirits." We need not
comment on the conduct of the flower-woman.
She may be equal to this action or things even
more hineous, but the hero of the tale becomes
contemptuous by his tacit submission to the will
of the debauched witch. The king seizes the
princess when she is forlorn and there is again a
love-proposal. The whole story in the Muham-
madan version has thus been worked up to
pander to a vulgar taste which repels us.
We would not have cared to notice the story,
were it not for showing how the original
Hindu tale has been vitiated in its Muhammadan
version ; but let us very clearly state here
that we do not believe that the Muhammadan
women tell this story in their homes in the
shape in which it has come down to us in
its printed form. The version current in
Muhammadan homes may be truer to the original,
and let us believe that it gives a decent and
becoming account of Sakhisona's love and trials.
What seems to have happened is this. The
PAURANIC INFLUENCE 223
Muhammadan writer, whose readers are no doubt
a few rustic men who have just learnt to read
the Bengali alphabets, in his zeal for showing
himself a dilettante and well skilled in the art
of expressing the softer emotions of the human
heart, has introduced these incongruous elements
into the original Hindu story which is so rigidly
pure.
So far with the Muhammadan version. Let us
next say a few words about this story as related
, . „ by Eakir Eama Kavibhushana
Fakir llauia intro- ^
duces classical eie- in the middle of the 16th cen-
ments in the stoiy.
tury. That Eakir Rama was a
true poet admits of no doubt. His taste is rigid
and he gives very fine touches showing a real
mastery over the poetic art in many of his ele-
gant passages. For instance, he begins his tale
Avith a dialogue between the princess and
Chandana. The latter proposes elopement.
The princess should leave the palace and both
of them go to a different country and live as
husband and wife. The indignant princess
expresses her vehement rage at this unbecoming
proposal and threatens to bring the matter to
the notice of the king. This would lead to his
immediate execution. But Chandana cites
Pauranic examples ; how Rama left the palace
and became a beggar for a simple pledge ; how
Dagaratha died of grief yet dared not break his
pligdge ; how Rama himself did nn act which
221 POLK LITERAlUBE OF BENGAL
was 1)lamed as one of questionable integrity,
simply because he had pledged his word. These
references to Pauranic examples of faithfulness
completely conquered her spirit. Eor being a
scholar herself, she dared not violate the ordi-
nances laid down in the holy books. The
Puranas guided the social lives of the Hindus
of the 16th century. Even the literary cha-
racters were bound down by the commandment
of these scriptures. The preceptor of Sakhisona
dissuaded her from flying away with Kumara,
but she cited an example from the Ramayana
referring to the case of the washer-woman who
was afraid of scandal in the Uttarakanda ; and
this completely outwitted the preceptor. The
descriptions of Nature given by Pakir Rama
are all on classical lines. The animated account
of a hurricane is interesting, and so is also that
of Sakhisona's full grown charms on the attain-
ment of Avomanhood. Her feet are like lotus
buds, her eyes soft as those of a gazelle and her
face lovely as the moon. These are of course
stereotyped objects of comparison which abound
in Pauranic literature. But inspite of his
classical taste, which is a marked feature of the
story related by Eakir Rama, we admire his
keen appreciation of the rural element in the
original folk-tale which he retains in his version
in a considerable measure. His w^ritings show
a combination of the classical elements with the
RURAL LIFE 225
rural-, and his style is light occasionally verging on
the humorous and far from the monotonous and
heavy sweep which often repels us in most of the
vernacular poems of the Hindu Renaissance.
But when we come to the version of Dakshina-
ranjan what a sense of relief do we feel ! This
scholar has taken down the story as told by old
women of the country-side. He has added
nothing himself. He has even tried, as far as
possible, to retain the very language in which
these tales were delivered. This takes us back
to a state of things which existed in the country
before the Muhammadan invasion. Those that
are acquainted with Hindu
The excellence and life in the Zenaua, especially
genuineness of Dak- .,i i-^ro •^ 'ii
shinaranjan's version m the rCUlote Mof USSll VlllagCS
of Beno-al, wall b ar testimony
to the fact that time has changed but little of
the ideas and thoughts of our womenfolk and
even of the dialect they have been speaking for
all these long centuries. We find in these coun-
try-tales some of the simple charms of old life,
before the Brahmin priests had made it a
complicated and artificial one. These beauties
grow up everywhere in the tale and are abun-
dant as field-flowers. The princess and Chandana
take the vow of adherence to a life of devoted
love, but they do not swear by gods and goddesses
nor by the holy writs nor by the words of the
Brahmins. Chandana says "We shall be true
29
226 FOLK LITERA.TTTTIE OF BENGAL
as the earth is true where flowers blossom."
The flower is the emblem of innocence and truth;
and the earth is sacred because the flowers
blossom here ! When the queen breaks her
promise, Chandana's mother — the poor wife of
the hotwal — comes to the bank of the Putra-saro-
bara and ])efore the lotuses which were the
witnesses of the queen's pledge, sings her lament,
the quiet pathos of which appeals to the heart,
ofl'ering a contrast to the Pauranic allusions
made in Pakir Rama's version to prove that
breach of promise is not good. Here the
kotivaVs wife says in rhymed verse : — ■" Oh lotus,
why do you blossom still and do not blush and
fade for shame ? For did she not make a pledge
here and has not she broken it here and in your
presence ? The bank of this lovely tank is no
longer sacred. How strange that in spite of the
breach of faith that took place here the sun
still throws its reflection on this tank by day
and the moon and stars by night ! "
The princess has a dim knowledge of the
pledge given by her royal parents. She comes
near the tank and sees the birds Cuka and
Sari perched on the bough of a near tree. The
shade of the evening spreads around her and
she says : " 0 birds, ^uka and Sari, O waters
of the tank, can you not tell me what this
pledge is ? For its fulfilment I am ready to
take out a rib of my heart and offer it, if
BEFORE THE RENAISSANCE 227
necessary." The ideal of loyalty and devotion
is here even more strikingly shown than in
Pauranic talcs ; but they arc simple virtues of
the innocent human heart, and for following
these no Pauranic rules needs be quoted. The
plant with its floral wealth, the tank with its
transparent water and the lotus in its full-
blown beauty appeal to the rural people more
than the Brahmins and all their holy writ would
perhaps do. The thought of the pledge Aveighs
upon Puspamala, the princess, and makes her
sad. The next day, the preceptor marks it.
On other days the jingle of the gold cymbals
on her feet pleased the ear of everyone that
heard it, to-day she steals into the room quietly,
and the preceptor says, " How is it that your
voice on other days sounded so sweet when you
recited your lessons, and to-day it is dull like that
of a dry piece of wood ?" When the preceptor
learns the whole thing about the pledge from
Puspa and Chandana, and when both of them
seek his opinion as to what they should do, he
does not play the part of the vociferous Brahmin
of the Eenaissance giving a catalogue of the
Pauranic allusions to bear upon the question, but
briefly says, " If one keeps the pledge he goes to
heaven, he that violates it, goes to hell." But
before this Daniel delivered his judgment, he had
sat quiet for a minute with brows that were
darkened and pursed up, for he realised the fact
228 POLK LITERATURE OE BENGAL
well, that his jud^^ment would make the princess,
the heiress to the throne of that country, leave the
palace and seek a life of poverty and distress. But
in his regard for truthfulness, he did not yield to
the Brahmanic enthusiast of the Pauranic revival,
though he was not at all prolific in his speech
like the latter. The princess after hearing this
judgment from his Guru, made Chandana sit on
the throne, while she sat below ; this simple
act showed that she elected him as her bridegroom.
Without the sound of conch-shells and the recita-
tions of Vedic hymns, and a hundred rites which are
held indispensable, they became bound in wedlock
in response to the call of a higher duty which
gave a solid grounding to love and sentiments.
Before they departed they said, " To keep the
honour of the pledge of a king is to keep
unimpeached the honour of the country ; so do
we follow this course." The princess took her
diamond necklace and bracelets oft' and offered
them as fees to the preceptor, We all feel that
he richly deserved them ; for even at the risk
of everything enviable in this earth, he could not
advise the pair to swerve from truth. He knew
that if this were known to the king, he would
punish him with death.
One thing that strikes us as very remarkable
in these stories is the control exercised on
feelings and speech of the great characters. This
affords a contrast to the literature of the
UREVITT 229
Pauranic renaissance where descriptions of
simple things often weary us by their monotony
and unnecessary repetitions. Here the women-
folk are generally the listeners
ofreSion"'^ ""'"' of tlicsc talcs and they are also
the story tellers. This accounts
for the excellent brevity — the characteristic of
the stories — which as a great poet has said "is
the soul of wit." Eor though we read in modern
romances long speeches on love delivered by
women, these people of the tender sex are, as a
matter of course, averse to such speeches, when
their feelings are deep. This is true especially
of the Hindu Avomen. One of our great poets
has put this in the mouth of Jiis heroine ' We
are called Abolas (speechless), for though we
have mouth, we cannot speak out our senti-
ments." In fact, deep love is ijot consistent
with long professions. It is silent and full of
sacrifices. AYords are generally frothy and
they often disclose shallowness of the heart.
Did ever a mother deliver a long speech to her
child to prove how dearly she loved him ?
Even so it is with nuptial love ; when it is deep
it scarcely speaks. In the modern Bengali
romances, the heroines are given to long
speeches and long love-confessions. But here we
find the highest and deepest love shewn in action
and in sacrifice at every step, but the characters
seldom make speeches.
230 FOLK LITEEATUKE OF BENGAL
The Jook of the flower-woman's malignant
eyes turned Chandana into a goat. She w^ove
a garland of flowers without the help of thread
and blew into the air by her breath. These had
no effect upon Puspa. For, says the folk-tale,
she was chaste and pure. It is interesting to
notice that in spite of the many superhuman
actions, charms and spells, with which these
stories abound, the rural people realised the
power of simple truth and faith in a Avonderful
manner. A woman who was loyal and true and
who sacrificed everything for love, and suffered
without complaint, was a proof against all kinds
of spell. Truth and devotion were the armour
against which no Avitchcraft or charm could
stand. Human virtues are appreciated in these
simple accounts of rural life in a remarkably
convincing manner. Gods and even devils bow
to a true heart. This gives the stories a great
ethical status. We shall, however, show a
striking example of these great human virtues
in the typical story of Malanchamala of which
a full translation Avill be appended to our
concluding lectures.
The country life, with its charms and simpli-
city and with its deep poetry, finds a most
unassumingly fascinating expression in these
stories. Not a Avord more, not a word less than
Avhat is required; the Avords are all to the
point, and the descriptions are not made
THE POETir ELE3TENT i'31
increiiious or lieavy hv scliolarly effusions- the
little soiii^^s intei'spersed in the stories are full
of poetry, wit or pathos. In this very story oi
Puspamjlla, there are many small songs which
shine like g^ms ; they were not composed to
illustrate classical canons of rhetoric, hut coming-
direct from hearts that were charged with emo-
tions and true, pathos, they appeal irresistibly
and remind us that there is nothing so beautiful
as simplicity. Puspa had disguised herself as a
warrior l)at the king's guard while trying to take
olf the soldier's coat from her body, makes a
strange discovery. The folk- tale here introduces
a song : —
" How does her rich braided hair become open
to the ojaze 1 The sfreen outer skin of the mansjo
had hid its wealth of ripeness but the beak of a
cvow strikes it, and lo 1 the goldeu colour is out.
The water weeds had covered the lotus, its soft
stalk lay hid under thorns, the bee touches it
and lo ! a hundred petals spread out and show
the full blomn."
Tliis passage reminds us of a few charming
lines in Goldsmith's " Hermit." The ])eauty of
words like " ^?^i c^t^l ^t^ " is untranslatable,
and belongs to the rural dialect of this pj'ovince.
Their rich suggestiveness can hardly be conveyed
to foreigners.
The descriptions sometimes consist merely of
a number of onomatopoetic words. They are,
282 FOLK LITERATFllE OF BENGAL
however, more expressive tlinii those which
cire verl>ose aiid Avritteii in a
Oiioiuatopoetic words ^. ,i:i„ i i • i l i
and tl.eir pointedness. graiKllloqiieil t claSSlCal Stylc.
The great reptile, the CankhinT,
that swallowed men and beasts, approaches
throngh the forest lands.
"^Sl "^U^^, ^ft^ 51^5 ^^, ^n ^-^^ WS^ fi^W^ c^?:sr<i Vft^^
These few words call up the hideous imagery
of the CankhinI, which many of our modern
writers would fail to produce by Avriting a nani-
ber of pages.
CHAPTER Y
Fou?' kinds of Folk- 1 ales
There were four kinds of folk-tales prevalent
in Bengal. First of all, to begin with, the rTipa-
hdhUs, — tliey are simple tales in which the su^^er-
human element predominates.
Tho rapul-athaft.
The Raksasas, the l)easts and
celestial nymphs often play the most important
parts in these stories. The tales of heroism
related in them are sometimes fantastical. The
sages of these kinds of tales in Gaul could tell
you the age of the moon ; they could call the
fish from the depths of the seas and cause them
to come near the shore ; they could even change
the shapes of the hills and head lands; they
THE 8th to 10th CENTURy TALES 233
could utter incantations over a body cut to
pieces, saying, " Sinew to sinew and nerve to
nerve be joined " and the body became whole
again ; the Druid priest could hurl tempests
over the seas ; the heroes with one stroke of their
favourite swords beheaded hills for sport ; when
they sat down to their food, they devoured whole
oxen and drank their mead from vats. In the
legend of Mainamati, we find the Hadi Shiddha
displaying similar feats ; with golden shoes on
his feet he could walk over big rivers ; he
kindled fire with the water of the Ganges instead
of oil ; the river was budged at the mere words
of his mouth ; at his command the tree laden
with fruits drooped low to the earth to yield its
treasures to him ; the gods came down to offer
their services to him ; he was so powerful that
with his rod he even chastised Yama, the
god of death. The attribution of superhuman
powers to mortals, held in higher rank than
even the immortals, was a special feature of the
rupakatJms and legends from the 8th to the 10th
centuries all over the world. In a tale called
the " Eield of Bones" in the collection of Bengal
folk-tales by Lai Behary Dey, we find a sage,
like the Gaelic physician Miach, son of Diancecht,
joining the different parts of a dead body by
incantations ; and the legend of the beautiful
nymph Caer, who became a swan every summer
and smote Angus with her charms, will ever
30
234 FOLK LiTERATUKE OF BEN&AI,
remind us of many stories current in Bengal
like those of Dandi, Jamini Bhan and
Chandra vali, to which reference has already
been made. This episode, differing in some
of its details in various versions, recurs in
many Bengali stories as well as in those of
the other parts of the world. The genuine
rTipakathas and legends all over the world
have many strikingly common points in them.
Those that are indigenous to Bengali life have
the special feature of having some great ethical
aim while imparting instruction with amuse-
ment to the young. It is now admitted by
European scholars that many episodes of the
Arabian Night's Tales owe their origin to Indian
stories, such as are to be found in the Kathasarit-
sagara. The slory of Saharia and Sahajeman
is an Arabic adaptation of the story of the two
Brahmin youths and their religious sacrifice
described in that Indian Avork. The story of
Sindabad the sailor, that of the King, the prince,
and seven ministers, of Geliad, his son and minis-
ter Senmash, in the Arabian Night's Tales, are
derived from Sanskritic sources. We have al-
ready mentioned how the Panchatantra which
professed to teach the princes of Patalij^utra
rules of conduct and politics, presented in the
garb of animal stories, got a world-wide circu-
lation. This represents one of the forms of
rupakathas. But the true rttpakathas are those
THE TWO WRESTLERS 235
where fair ones arc won by the heroic feats
of dauntless princes and young merchants after
a conquest over the Raksasas or achievements
of other feats equally hazardous and glorious.
These at one time carried the young children
breathless through every stage of narration ;
the spirits of the air, the beasts of the forest
and the monsters of the deep took part in human
affairs in these stories creating a romance which
produced and excited interest around the hearth
of each family.
Often in particular classes of rTqjcikathas, the
human powers were exaggerated, till imagination
feasted itself to a satiety, and in Eastern tales
the romance of these was not bound by time and
space, but transcended limits of all sorts. In
the Edda the giant Skrymmer notices the dread-
ful blows of Thor's hammer as the falling of a
leaf. In the Enojlish story of Jack the sjiant-
killer, Jack under similar circumstances, says
that a rat had given him three or four slaps
with its tail. But these feats are nothinoj as
, „„ compared to those described in
Ihe wrestler 22-men- -'
strong and the wrest- tlic Bcnsrali talc Called '' The
ler 23-men-strong.
wrestler 2 2 -men-strong, and
the wrestler 23-men-strong. " The tale is a
typical one showing the wild excesses of Eastern
imagination. The Avrestler 22-men-strong
heard that there lived in another part of
the world a wrestler 23-men-strong. His
236 FOLK LITERA.TURE OF BENGAL
pride was wounded, so in great rage he
started for the countr}^ of his rival who claimed
the strength of one man more than himself, in
order to challenge him to a fight. In his
hurry he forgot to take his meal. But on his way
he found that his hag contained 24 maunds
oF flour. Where was the plate to he found
from which he could eat so much food ?
binding a tank on his way he threw the flour
into it and then quaffed off the whole mixture.
This appeased his hunger for a time. He
now took a mid-day nap, hut a wild elephant
that had come to drink water from that tank
was enraged to see it emptied of its liquid, and
trampled the wrestler under its feet ; the sleep-
ing man was disturbed, and half-opening his
eyes from which sleep had not yet vanished,
gave a slap which killed the animal as though
it were a gnat, and then he turned on his hack
and slept again.
Arising from his sleep the wrestler came to
the house of his rival 23-men-stron£f, and
knocked at his gate. But as no one responded
to his call, he kicked at the earth as a sign
of his rage, and this caused a great sound.
A girl nine years old came out and wonderingly
said, " You, a man ? I thought the cat of
the house was scratching the earth as it does
every day ?" The wrestler felt himself hum-
bled by this remark, for his feats were belittled
THE KING OF BIRDS 237
by a girl and declared to l)e worthy of a cat.
Then reclining upon a tall palm tree he asked
the girl where the wrestler 23-men-strong was.
" You mean my father, wait a bit, he will come
presently. He has gone to the river side," said
the girl and added " Dont push the palm tree
in that way, it may fall down." " Why, what if
it does ?" The girl replied " My father will
make a tooth-brush with it, when it grows
stronscer." The wrestler did not relish this
remark also and wondered what the man
would be like, who thought of making a
tooth-brush with such a tall palm-tree. He did
not wait, but ran to the river side to meet his
rival. They met and forthwith began to fight.
An old woman with a herd of goats
was passing that side, and seeing the two
wrestlers lighting, said " Children, forbear your
play for a moment, and let me pass." The
wrestlers stopped fighting and wondered that
such giants as they were could be addressed
as children and their fight described as play !
But the woman did not wait long ; she took
the fighting heroes upon her shoulders and for-
got all about them, and tying her cows and buffa-
loes to her apron, passed by. The king of birds
Gadura was passing by the sky above them at
this moment and he saw the prospect of a good
feast, and carried in his beak the woman with all
that she carried.
238 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
There lived a king in a certain country who
had a daughter. She was taking rest on a
couch on the roof of her palace, and one of her
attendant maids was narrating a rTipakatha
to her. The breeze was pleasant and the princess
enjoyed it no less than the tale, when suddenly
she rose up from her l)ed and said, " Maid, see
what has fallen into my right eye, it may be
a dust-grain." The maid took a straw in
her hand and put a bit of cotton around it,
and then with its help drew out the dust-grain.
The princess felt a little pain in the eye from
which fell a drop of tear. The dust-grain when
1)rought out proved to be nothing less than the
woman Avith two fio-htinoj men on her shoulders
and with a whole herd of beasts tied to her
apron ! The gentle breeze that the princess
enjoyed was a cyclone which had caused the
king of birds to throw the woman from his beak !
The dwellers of Brobdingnag who are " as tall
as an ordinary spire-steeple " sink into insigni-
ficance before this mighty host of the Bengali
tale.
These mpaTcathas introducing nymphs and
fairies, where the hero and the heroine suffer
for their love and pass through risks and sacri-
fices in an adventurous spirit, have interest for
the young as well as the old, rousing the imagi-
nation of the former and old memories of the
latter. And what people of the world have
TitE CHARM OF THE TALES 289
not heard these in their infancy, and not admired
them with all the warmth and eagerness of
their souls ? Sometimes the grim and terrible
element in these tales fills the young minds
with awe, and sometimes the picturesque natural
sceneries drawn in a few lines — the flowers of the
valley, the evening stars and moon light — diffuse
a charm which make a lasting impression on the
young. And many a time and oft the story
carries them through the dangers passed by the
hero, — in the land of Raksasas or of giants or
in cities depopulated by tigers or cobras.
And the young listeners sigh and pray for the
end of the hero's troubles and ^vhen he is res-
tored to his love's arms, feel extreme grati-
fication and sense of relief. Sometimes as in
the story of the Eield of Bones, the stillness of
a dark night, in the depth of an impenetrable
forest, mixed with awful incantations and
the grimness of Tantrik worship, recalling the
dead to life, awaken the soul to mystic
emotions and thousjhts that transcend the
limits of time and space. In stories like that
of " The Origin of Opium," through the various
stages of ambition presented in the form
of a legend, the ethical lesson that content-
ment and not self-aggrandisement should be
the true object to be aimed at, prepares the
temperament of the young aspirant to high
moral life.
240 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
The next species of folk-tale in Bengal consists
„ ^ , of those in which there is an
Humorous tales.
attempt at humour. These may
not be often too pointed and subtle, but they
show the power of appreciating humorous situa-
tion by the rural-folk in their own simple
way. They call up associations of merry laugh-
ter of children and smiles on the bashful lips
of youthful women. One of them begins in
this way :
" There was once a king whose name was
Habuchandra aud Habucliaudra. His minister was
Gabuchandra. ^^^^^^ Gabuchaudra.
" The kini? was the very iar of wisdom and
the minister a palm-tree of sagacity.
" Both kept company day and night, and did
not leave each other for a moment.
" How could injustice prevail in a kingdom
ruled by such a pair of prodigies ? They were
determined to protect the country from harm in
every way.
" The king used to laugh loudly, ho — ho — ho
at every thing, and the rejoinder was sure to
come from the minister who in his deep-mouthed
voice coughed kho — kho — kho.
" Each admired the other's wisdom and was
full of praises of the other.
" The king had a wall raised round his Audi-
ence Hall, his minister kept his nostrils and
ears shut by putting a quantity of cotton in
HAEIT CHANDRA — GAEU CHANDRA 241
them. This Avas a precaution lest tlie royal and
ministerial wisdom should disappear from the
court.
" It happened one day that a boar passed
near the palace making a sound with its nose,
ghoiith, ghonfJi, gltonlh. The king saw the animal
and said, ' What is it, minister ? ' The minister
looked at it with scrutinizing eyes, and said,
'Your Majesty's servants in charge of the stall
are thieves. This is an elephant famished and
reduced to this size; the servants have not
evidently provided it w^ith food.'
" At once an order was passed to imprison
the servants lielonging to the royal stall !
"Another day the same boar passed by the
palace again. The king looked at it and said,
' How is it, minister, that the elephant has not
improved in size though the servants have been
punished.'
"The minister said, 'Your Majesty, this is a
mouse, for were it an elephant, its trunk would
have come out by this time. The kingdom is
in a great peril. The mice have become fat,
feeding on the royal store.'
" 'Does the matter even stand so ?' cried the
indignant king. Orders were at once passed to
behead the sentinels of the royal store.
"The royal store was now saved by the
sagacity of the king and his minister ; they
drew a breath of relief and sat in a chamber
31
242 POLX LITERATURE OF BENGAL
after this great labour and the servants fanned
them in order to remove the weariness caused
by the toil of administration."*
The story goes on to narrate a number of
episodes illustrative of the sagacity of the king
and his minister, and the humour throughout,
though not pointed as a needle, is neither blunt
as a wooden sword. They best show the joys
and merriments of simple village -folks, and are
purely indigenous in character. The sequel is
worthy of the beginning, comic and tragic at
the same time. The king, counselled by the
minister, orders the execution of a man, as inno-
cent as you or I, on a charge of theft. A stake
is raised for the impalement of this criminal.
And the king and the minister are present to
see to the carrying out of their command. Now
the Guru of this unfortunate man came to the
spot at that moment and cried out, "Do not put
him to the stake for god's sake ; let not a
criminal be rewarded in the way deserved by
saints." "What is the matter ?" "What is the
matter ?" asked the king and his minister with
gaping mouths. Now the Guru who was dressed
as a hermit said, " I have found it in the holy
writs that the man who is impaled at this most
auspicious moment will go to heaven straight,
no matter what heinous crime he may have
* Uakhina Raujan'a Tliakurmar Jhulj.
I'UE FOX 2i3
committed in this earth ; so keep his punishment
in abeyance for a while, and put me on the
stake instead, so that I may at once pass from
earth to the heaven." The minister said,
" This cannot be, if this death is so ejlorious, why
should an outsider be rewarded with it ? Put
me there." But His Majesty whose imagination
was inflamed by the description of the nymphs of
heaven that he had heard, cried aloud, "The
king must go to heaven first." So by his royal
order he was impaled by the executioner and
by his wish loud music was kept up all the
while drowning his screams, and when the crowd
at last saw him, they found him stone-dead,
with a horrible grimace on his face.
There are many stories that we heard in
our childhood containing rural sketches full of
humour and jovial spirits, and not in an incon-
siderable portion of them are
The fox in charge of
the tortoise's young the animals, the chief actors.
ones. ,
The fox IS often the hero or
these stories. In one of the tales we find him
in the capacity of a village pedagogue. The
tortoise has seven young ones ; he is anxious for
their education and leads them to the school of
the veteran teacher. The wily fox is well
pleased to see the young ones and casts on them
hungry looks, but says he, "You need not at all
care for them now. Their interest is my look-
out from this day." The tortoise now goes back
244 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
fully convinced of the sound education its
young ones will get at the hands of such a
well knoAvn scholar as the fox. On the third
day, his fatherly care made him feel some
anxiety ahout them and he paid a visit to the
school-master. One of the seven had meantime
served for the light refreshment of the latter,
but the cunning fellow brought the little things
one by one and shoAved them to their father,
the sixth one was brought twice so that he could
not perceive any diminution in their number.
In this way when all but one remained, the cun-
ning fox brought it out and then took him back
to his school chamber and in this Avay produced
it seven times, on which the tortoise felt that all
the seven were alive and doing well. But Avhen
the wily animal had finished that one also, the
tortoise on his visit again was told that his
seven young ones had completed their school-
education and gone to college for higher aca-
demic distinction. How long could such a pre-
text hold water ? The tortoise now realised the
truth that his young ones had gone up indeed
to a higher Avorld but through the jaAvs of the
wicked Reynard. And he took a solemn vow
of retaliation. One day the old fox was cross-
ing a canal and the tortoise caught one of his
legs tightly within his jaws. "Ha'-Bah!"
cried the prince of cunning, Avhose presence of
mind never failed him. "What a narrow escape !
THE TRAP AN]) ESCAPE 245
The foolish tortoiso lias but caught a log* l)y his
teeth, my legs are quite free." Whereupon the
latter let it go, thinking that it Avas a mistake
on his part. Another day the fox Avas thinking
to hoAv to cross the small canal. He had
urgent business on the other side, but dared
not cross the canal lest the tortoise who was on
the alert, might catch him again. The tortoise
was weary of waiting, and at last showed himself
on the surface of the water. He abused the
fox to his heart's content and said that there
was no escape from him, sooner or later.
The fox also gave replies which enraged the
tortoise. In his indignation he floated in
mid-water in a careless manner ; and lo !
clever Reynard sprang up in all haste and
resting his feet for a moment on the back of
his enemy Avent to the other side of the canal
by a heroic leap. "Ha '-Bah!" cried Reynard
safelv landini? on the other bank, and the tortoise
felt greatly disappointed. The tortoise thought
"The ;Avily fox outwits me in this Avay each
time but I Avill prove too clever for him this
time." He came up to the bank of the canal
and landing ashore closed his eyes and lay
like one dead. " The old fool Reynard must
take me for a corpse and come to partake
of my flesh. Let me Avait." The fox came
up there as usual for an evening Avalk and
noticed the father of the deceased young
246 FOLK LITERATUKE OF BENGAL
ones lvin2f there inert and motionless. In a
moment he understood the device of the tortoise
and said : " The tortoise, poor fellow, is dead.
But stop, I am not sure if he is completely
dead ; for he does not shake his ears as
tortoises do when they die." The tortoise
thought that it must be a sign of death of the
species to which he belonged, to shake the ears
after death. So he gently shook his ears as a
convincing proof of death. But the fox said :
" The tortoises open their eyes after death and
shut them again." Whereupon the foolish
animal did as he was told, shutting his eyes
after opehing them once. Reynard approached
him and gave him a kick and fled in all haste
into the depths of the forest. This part of the
story has a parallel in the story of a hare and
a fox current among the Negroes.
The third class of these stories comprises the
brcfta katJias or tales interspersed
The hvatn knthas. .,i i i i j i i > t^
Avith hymns and attended with
religious observances. Some of these seem to have
come down to us from hoary antiquity. The
deities addressed are those for the most part to
whom the Aryan pantheon has not opened its
doors. Their names are unknown and non-Sans-
kritic, and the mode of their worship is strange.
The deities called the Thua, five in number, are
to be made with clay. Their conically shaped
figures are like miniature pyramids and the
BRATA KATHA 247
hymns addressed to them are couched in the
oldest form of the Bengali
The language of the (jjalect aldn to Prakrlta.
hymns.
The meaning of this mystic
hymn is not very clear.
'^\-^^ ^iim ^itf^
The origin of the worship of the Bengali
woman's god Laul is also lost in obscurity.
Like Thua he is represented by a conically
shaped piece of clay. This is covered with floral
decorations, and two sticks of flowers represent-
ing two arms are attached to the figure ; but
this seems to be a later innovation. The reli-
gious observances in regard to Thua and Laul
seem to be a sort of pyramid- worship ; and it is
difficult at this stage to say if these forms of
worship belonged to the indigenous non-Aryan
population, or were introduced by the Dravidians
or some other people. One point to be noticed
in regard to such worship is that the elderly
women of the Aryan homes seem to have been
originally opposed to them. It is the young
248 FOLK LTTERATrUE OF BENGAL
M^fe that introduces them at the teeth of great
opposition. This Ave find in the sacred tales by
which every such worship is consecrated. The
Aryans did not at first tolerate these practices ;
but the brides were initiated into the rites pro-
bably by the non-Aryan people with whom they
came in contact and amongst whom the Aryan
homes were built. In the stories attached to
the worship of these local deities, we find the
mothers-in-law resenting the
The indeo-inons form ^ ■ _
of worship amowj; the practiccs, uay somctimes setting
their feet on the sacred things
with which the wives worshipped these deities
privately. We all know that the worship of
Chandl and Manasa Devi was not at first favoured
in the Aryan homes. The young wives introduced
it at great sacrifice on their part and bore all
manner of oppression for doing so.
To some of the deities of this nature, such as
Chandl and Manasa Devi, the
the^'irfan panlheon'' Brahmin pricst opeucd his tcm-
ple-door latterly. They were
connected in some form or other with the legends
of Hindu mythology. But Thua and Laul
are worshipped by womenfolk alone, without
being recognised by the Brahmins, and are now
in their last struggle for existence in Bengal.
The archaic forms of words in the hymns ad-
dressed to these deities carry us to the 8th or 9th
centurv A.D. and even earlier times; and there
THE giiil's pkayeks 249
is no lack of other internal evidences to prove
that some of these forms of worship originated
when the Bengalis were at the height of
maritime activities. The chart of worship of
the goddess Bhaduli is full of symbolical things
denoting sea-voyage. There are seven seas,
thirteen rivers, the sandy sea
Evidence of mari-
time activity in the beach, ratts, sca fowls, palm
tree, etc., in the chart. The
prayers all refer to the safe landing on the
home-shore of those dear ones and relations
gone by sea to distant countries : —
" Oh river, Oh river, whither do you run ?
Before you pass by, say something of my father and
his son.
Where do you go so fast, Oh river, Oh river.
Tell me how my husband and father-in-law fare.
Oh sea, Oh sea, peace be with thee, grant what 1
pray,
My brother has gone for trade, may he return to-day.
Oh sea. Oh sea, peace be with thee, hear what I say.
My father has gone for trade, may he return to-day.
Oh raft. Oh raft, dweller of the high seas thou art.
Keep my father and brother safe from all harm and
hurt.
Oh sea-heaeh, Oh sea-beach, smile when they pass by
thee.
Watch them, keep them safe, this boon grant me.
Oh sea-fowls, Oh sea-fowls, tell me I beseech thee.
Where did you see the ship, that carries them in the
sea?".
32
250 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
The little girls worship the image of the sea,
of the rivers, sea-fowls, and rafts, preparing
the figures by a solution of powdered rice, and
address these short prayers and hymns, wishing
the safe return of those dear and near to them,
engaged in sea-voyage. Who the goddess
Bhaduli is, no one can tell. In one of the
hymns, she is called the mother-in-law of
Indra, as Laul is called in another passage
the elder brother of Civa. These are no doubt
mere attempts to connect them in some way or
other with the deities of the Hindu pantheon.
Bhaduli is worshipped in the month of August,
when the rivers are full and the monsoons are
high, and the anxiety of tender hearts be-
comes greatest in respect of their husbands,
fathers and brothers whose ships not so secure
by scientific methods and appliances, as now,
were often a plaything of the deep. The little
girls observed fasts and prayed to the raft, the
seabeach, the ship and the sea-fowls to keep
their kith and kin in safety. There is a simplicity
and tender pathos in these unassumingly
beautiful prayers of the child's heart which can-
not but appeal. The images of men and women
are drawn in (tlipana paintings and this is
an essential rite and part of the ceremony of
worship. These figures are often like crosses ;
a line is drawn in addition, to each cross towards
the end ; for otherwise the figure would have
CIVA APPLIES LIME WATER 251
but one leg. These are also made of clay and
sold in the country-side. A distinguished
European scholar once expressed great sur-
prise at seeing one such clay figure, and told
me that it was the exact likeness of some of
those clay-figures which Mr. Evans discovered
along with other things in Crete, all belonging
to about 3000 B.C.
The agricultural element, an indispensable
factor of country life in Bengal,
The agricultural ele- . . . , . ^ n < ,
ment. IS m evidencc m most of these
songs and tales. We find that
in the (^unyapurana, written in the 10th century,
^iva appears to us as an agricultural god
engaged in reaping the harvest and doing other
field work, with the help of his chief assistant
Bhima. The peasantry of the country-side
attributed their own calling to the deity, in
order to bring him nearer to their comprehen-
sion. There is a humour which almost reaches a
pathetic interest in the description of Civa ap-
plying lime water to the roots of rice-plants in
order to destroy insects. Well is it said, that
if a bull were to make an image of its god, the
horns would be considered indispensable for
such a divinity. Some of these bratakathas
attribute an agricultural life to Indra as the
Cunyapurana does to Civa. One of these runs
thus : —
" Where is the god Indra ?
Indra is husking rice."
252 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
One of the most popular of these Bratas, or
religious rites performed by our girls, is the
Sejuti. In the prayers and songs relating to
this hraUi^ we have a vivid sketch of the Hindu
girls of the old school with their ideas and
feelings. The typical girl of
The hopes, aspira- . . . . ,
tions and wishes of our society exprcsses m siniple
engai^i s. language all that she feels to
the deity she worships. Her ambition, her
sweetness of temper and even bitterness of
feeling and jealousy are all expressed in
her prayers. There is much crudeness but the
simplicity is most attractive. There are prayers
for a pretty son being born to the mother ;
" Let me be borne in a stately palanquin from
my father's house to my father-in-law's " is
suggestive of a desire of being married to a rich
husband ; " May the refuse in the plate of my
brother be the meal for others." "'May my
brother be lovely as the moon-beams." " May he
be a favourite in the king's court "; " May I
eat off a plate of gold and may I wear golden
bracelets "; " Oh god ^iva, Oh god sun, may I
not be married to an illiterate man "; " May my
husband be a prince ; — elephants at his door and
steeds in his stall, heaps of grain husked in his
courtyard and cows breeding erermore in the
cow-shed, and may we have a son of a swarthy
colour." The liking for a child of a swarthy
colour is inherent in the Hindu mother with
SEJTJTI 253
her love for the child Krsna of the religious
legend of her coantry. " May I have a son in
my lap, and one in my arms, and may I have a
sadl of Benares-silk to wear in the night ";
*' May I be a sister of seven brothers."
With a solution of poAvdered rice she makes a
bracelet and with join(?d hands she prays, " I
worship thee, Oh bracelet of powdered rice, may
I have a pair of golden bracelets, grant me this
boon." Then she makes a kitchen, a cow-shed
and a dwelling house with the same material
and prays to them each, in the aforesaid manner
that she may have these made of bricks. She
prays also for diamonds and jewels to wear in
her person. Her concluding prayer is, however,
the purest gem amongst her sincere expressions
of the heart : "I take a vow of sejuU
worship so that I may be as virtuous as
Savitrl."
But if the above show her crude simplicity
and anxiety to lead a virtuous life, she is not
free from that fear which was once a Hindu
girl's nightmare. In those days Hindu girls
were plagued by a number of co-wives ;
and the favours and likings of the husband
fluctuated whimsically, but invariably with the
approach of age in his consort the favourite of
to-day became the cast away of to-morrow.
The fear in respect of a co-wife was, as I have
264 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
said, the very nightmare of her existence, and
this will be illustrated from the following : —
" Oil mirror, Oh mirror, may I not have a co-wife.
" Oh squirrel, Oh squirrel, keep my husband in peace but
eat my co-wife's head.
" Oh broom, Oh broom, may my co-wife never have a
child.
" Oh bird, Oh bird, may my co-wife die below and I
behold her death from above.
" May her sleeping-room be the hut for husking rice
and there may she die.
"Oh knife, Oh knife, here do I dress vegetables with thy
help for a feast to be given on my co-wife's death.
" What is the red dye that adorns my feet ? you ask,
it is the blood of m_y co-wife whom I have killed."
We have some very old specimens of the
songs of the sun-god, which at one time were
recited by girls and young women. The sun
was probably called Visnu in the earlier Riks.
In fact, in Vedic literature there are enough
hints suggesting that the word Visnu implied
the sun-god amongst the Hindus in ancient
times. Even in the days of Ramayana the Visnu
of the line " f?^^ >[^C*ftttctF C^Tf^«^ f^£fW*f^? seems
to signify the solar god. The sun according
to the Ptolemaic theory, as also that of the early
Hindus, made his round through
The legend of the < i i - tit ^.^ s
sun-god the solar system. 1 he theory ot
Copernicus gives this motion to
the earth. According to the Hindus the sun met
A SOLAR MYTH 265
the constellations ?t^, ^^^^1, f^*(t^ and passed
through ^1%^ ^? ^Q^, ^°n51^^^ and other signs of
the Zodiac of the Vedic times in its course.
The worshippers of the sun-god, created legends
out ot* this astronomical theory, describing the
marriage of the sun-god, and his play with his
planetary companions. In a song of the sun-
god we find him in a boat with 1,600 Gopis or
milk-maids. It is quite probable that these
1,600 maids were meant to symbolize the in-
numerable planets of the solar system. Whatever
it l)e, there are good grounds for believing that
Visnu or the sun-god of the Vedic hymns became
in later times identitied with Kisna and as the
worship of the sun-god lost popular favour in
preference to the worship of Krsna, the legends
that had gathered round the bright luminary
of the day in a previous epoch of history all
passed to Krsiia, who ousted the former from
the temples of this country — the popular
Vaisnava religion of to-day thus seems
to have evolved out of the worship of the
sun -god.
The song, to which reference has been made
seem to have been composed in the 10th
century or so, judging not only from its crude
language, but also from the fact that the forms of
worship and the legends which they treat of, were
those of that early epoch of our religious history.
250 FOLK LITEKATUHE OF BENGAL
Like. a thing carried by the waves from the
Atlantic or the Pacific ocean to the shores of
Bengal, these literary and historical relics,
the subjects of the songs, have come floating
to us from the Vedic or Upanishadaic
times.
The young sun-god, in this song has attained
a fit age ; yet bis parents do not think of marry-
ing him. " The beautiful sadis of two Brahmin
girls have been spread to the sun, — the young
sun-god casts a longing look at them, — O mother
of the sun-god, he is now grown up, why not get
him married ? A girl on the other side of the
river is sitting with her hair spread before the
sun, — look there, how the young sun-god roves
about in order to see that hair.
Oh mother of the sun-god, why not yet get
him married, he is quite grown up.
Another Brahmin sjirl walks with the cymbals
jingling on her feet. The young sun-god goes
so far as to propose to marry her. Why not get
him married ; he is quite grown up."
My audience should excuse any indecent
suggestion in this rustic song. This was the
way how the old village people felt that the time
was ripe when they should look for brides, for
their young lads.
GAURI — THE CHILD WIFE 257
But the real pathos ol' the song is centred
in the touches with which young Gauri's marriage
and separation from parents are described. She
is below twelve, she must sever all connection
with her parents at this tender age. The rela-
tives bless her saying,- —
" Go O Gaurl, weeping to-day, but come to-
morrow smiling and rejoicing.''
A s the boat carrying her passes through the
stream that flows fast by the village, GaurT
says to the boat-man, '' Brother boat-man, ply
your oars slowly, my mother is crying, let me
hear her voice a little more ; Oh my brother boat-
man, ply the boat slowly, my sisters are crying,
let me catch their sound ; Oh brother boat-man
do not ply your boat so fast, yet my brothers are
crying, let me hear their voice a little more. "
At the time she left home the relations were
weeping, for she was a little girl and never
stayed even a day away from her home.
Her father hid his face in his scarf
and wept. With a basket, full of toys, with
which they used to play together, Gouri's
brothers and sisters wept, but her mother threw
herself on the bare earth and cried beating
her head against a stone. The little girls after
their marriage, went to their husbands' home
and were subjected to the maltreatment of their
sisters-in-law and mothers-in-law^ This accounts
for the tender pathos of such situations.
33
258 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
But the Hindu wife, in that tender age had
need of parents and brothers and sisters. She
could not think of her husband alone as satis-
fying all the needs of her tender mind. The home
meant to her, the home of parents and it would
take years for her to grow up and accept her
mate as her all absorbing care. How touching
is the following conversation between the grown-
up husband and his girl-wife ! So long her
parents were ministering to her wants and now
she feels helpless not knowing exactly on whom
to depend.
" I shall go to your country, my husband,
but ill will it fare with me when I am in need
of apparel."
" In my fair cities a colony of weavers will
I found for you."
" I shall go with you, my husband, ill will it
fare with me when I want shell-bracelets for
my hands."
" In my fair cities will I make the bracelet-
makers dwell, who will cut shells to adorn your
hands."
" I shall go to your country, my husband, but
where shall I get vermilion for my brow."
" Erom the adjacent countries will I import
Banias to my fair cities to sell vermilion to
you."
" I shall go to your country, my husband,
but where will a supply of rice come from ? "
i»A RENTS SELL DAlTGHTERS 259
" In my fair cities the ploughmen AA^ill be
busy reaping harvests for you, my love."
" I shall go to your country, my husband,
but who will be my mother there."
" I have my mother and she will be a mother
to you."
" I shall go with you, my husband, but who
will be my father there ?"
" My father will be your father as well."
" I shall go with you, my husband, but who
will be my brothers and sisters there ?"
" My brothers and sisters will, my darling,
be brothers and sisters unto you."
In our country, the gods are not unapproach-
able divinities — the dwellers of high heaven,
they are merely those whom we see around us
in our home. The rustic songs draw the gods
after the models of the rural people. Hence so
much tenderness attaches itself to the tales of
the gods.
In this song, there is frequently a reference
to money received by a girl's parents from the
bridegroom at the time of marriage. In one place,
I find Gaurl's mother began to weep and cry
(when Gauri left her parents for her husband's
home), but she tied Rs. 1,000 in the edge of her
sadi. The consideration received by the girl's
mother was nearly tantamount to her j^rice with
all its legal bindings. In one place, Gaurl, the
young girl was unwilling to go and wept, " Oh
260 FOLK LITERATURE OF BEN&AL
my papa, Oh my mama, won't you keep me near
you?"
" But we have taken money before the whole
village people, how can we keep you ?"
Alas, these old good days are gone. In those
days a daughter used to be called ^^^-^ which
suggests a purchase value. How^ the social aspect
is changed, not daughter, but the son is a valu-
able thing in the Bengali matrimonial market.
The rural songs have a simple charm of their
own, — even now, when refined ideas and Sans-
kritized Bengali have driven the charming things
of the village into a corner. These songs some-
times under a religious garb and at others Avith-
out any such garb at all, — indicate the soft feel-
ings, the sorrows and joys that are nourished
every day under the shade of green mangoe trees
in a Bengali village. I remember to have heard
a Bengali shepherd, a lad of barely 16, — filling
the whole air with the pangs of a widow's
heart, conveyed in a song which he sang one
evening, while returning from the field. The
widow of the song is young and just stricken
by her great calamity. I remember a line
" Oh my darling, why have you left me — mak-
ing me helpless, driving me mad with sorrow 1
In some past life did I purchase fish from a
fisherman and forgot to pay the price, for that
fault am I a young widow to-day." Alas! the
Bengali widows are not allowed to take fish or
THE GITA KATHAS 26 i
meat of any sort, the passage has therefore a
special appeal for us.
It is the fourth class of these folk-tales that
are by far the most important of
all. They are the Glta Kathas,
lit., tales interspersed with songs. In Eastern
Bengal, old widows of the humbler classes,
assisted by a chorus, used to recite them before
ladies of high rank during the days of their con-
finement. On the sixth night particularly, when
the Fortune god — the Vidhata Purusa — is said
to come down in order to write on the forehead
of the baby its future fortunes, the mother and
her attendants remain awake ; and how can
they do so better than by listening to the stories
narrated by these story-tellers ? These glta
kathas are not merely nursery tales. Eor the
education of women, according to the ideals of
the East, there cannot be anything more sublime
or edifying. They smell of fresh grass and held-
flowers that grow plentifully by the country-side
and in them are embodied lessons of the highest
renunciation and sacrifice. Some of them are dis-
tinctly and peculiarly Indian ; so that none of
the foreign nations that have imitated or adapted
many of the Indian tales could reproduce them
in their own language or assimilate them in their
stories.
Babu Daksina Rafijan Mitra Majumdar has
done yeoman's service to the cause of Bengali
262 FOLK LITERATURE OF BEN&AL
literature by collecting some of these. The first
edition of his Thakurdadar Jhuli reproduces the
stories almost as he heard them from old women
of the rural villages of Eastern Bengal. Their
very language is preserved in this edition, as it
was in some cases recorded by means of phono-
"■raph. The story of Malaiichamala which is
typical of these tales, and has unique excellence,
was obtained from an old woman of the Yugi
caste. This woman was aged over 100. People
said she was 150 years old at the time. She was
an inhabitant of a village near Pinger in the
sub-division of Tangail in the district of Mymen-
sinoi-h. The stories of Thakurdadar Jhuli were
collected during the years 1896-1902. As the
language of the first edition of this book proved
too archaic and antiquated, the compiler at the
request of his publishers had to change it in some
places in the later editions. But though the
lano-uao-e in the neAv editions is now closer to
current Bengali, the intrinsic worth of the tales
has to some extent suffered by the change. It
must, however, be said in favour of these chauges
that the book could not have commanded the
popularity that it now enjoys, if the archaic
forms had not been changed in many places.
But the alterations are not always happy. When
an army marched in a hurry, what a dash and
sweep of the movement of a large mass of human
being's is implied by the line "'Sf^ Wt^t^ ^ ^
THE EXPRESSIONS CHANGED 263
^Wt^^l ^tt^l" (p. 18, first edition), which means
that the low marshy swamps
The Thakurdiidar . i i ,i i ' i *. i •
Jhuii, its first edition weve I'Mised to the level ot plam
as contrasted with i i i ,1
later editions. 1^"<1 '^^^^^ the I'lvei's Were run up
the stream and crossed, but this
translation scarcely conveys the precipitous hurry
and the dash implied in the original line. This
line is omitted in later editions. The words
'* ^^«0? t|# " (lit.,';the son of the wielder of the
sceptre, p. 22), ''m ^^^ f^^^ " (p. 20) "%
^tnm 5RJ1" (p. 25), "f^?tf^ ^^t^ft^^lt" (p. 40), ''m
?m^" (p. 49), "cTf-^fcrf % ^^rmtc^" (p. 49), '*f^^^
f^^f% ^tr^'-" (p. 55), "•nf^^^M^ ttCS" (p. 127),
"ptr:^ ^Nt^ ^t^^" (p. 131), and many such
expressions have been changed or paraphrased in a
simpler language in the succeeding editions.
What words can convey the awful stillness of the
night so powerfully as " f^^^ f^^t% ?tf% " ? The
very word "f^^^" which means " without sound "
and "t^l9l%" which means " merged in profound
slumber " recall to us by association the terrible
calm of a midnight in a child's dream. Put any
Sanskritic expressions in the place of these two
Prakritic words, however pompous and grand
they may be, they will fail to make a similar
impression. But we, in whose ears still ring
some of the powerful expressions of country-
Prakrit by associations of childhood, do under-
stand and appreciate their rural charm and signi-
ficance. Our younger generations accustomed
264 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
to Sanskritic words have not learnt their meanings
partly because they have lost touch with the old
country-life, and partly because the present
vocabularies scrupulously avoid illuminating
scholars about Prakrit expressions, confining
themselves to Sanskritic words. It was therefore
prudent from the publisher's point of view to
change ^f^ into ^t (p. 53), ^<pf^ into ^^ (p. 58),
f^l into f^?rl (p. 60). But the old fascination still
lingers in the archaic forms and the same literary
beauty, I am afraid, is not preserved in the tales.
How unfortunate is it to substitute ^tfe
'ItSl by ^ ^^ (p. 127). ^^ means
impenetrably dense. In our childhood we
understood by this density as if it could not
be pierced by the point of a needle. ^ means
tender.
But the versions of the tales given by Dak-
sina Raiijan, in spite of the occasional changes
in the style, which he was obliged to make in
view of making them suitable for popular use,
possess a unique merit. Sir Babindranath Tagore
has written in his introduction to one of these
compilations that no other man in Bengal has
succeeded in reproducing the tales in the popu-
lar dialogue so well as Daksina Babu has done.
The compiler put aside his own learning, his own
notions, and his own language and did almost the
part of an automatic machine. Thus the old
world is here with its antiquated forms, with its
A FAITHFUL REPRODUCTION 26o
mannerisms and with its ideals, unvarnished and
unmolested by modern influences. The old
Bengali life of the 10th century is vividly
before us in the story of Malancliamala. The
professional women who used to recite these
tales in the palaces of the kings as well as in
the huts of the poor had a formed style with
fossilised ideas. The stops, the sighs, and even
the caughings passed from one generations of
reciters to the others, preserving the original
stories in a really wonderful manner, not indeed
like the Egyptian mummy which is lifeless,
but like a flower-Avoman's wreath, fresh with life
and fragrance. If the stories were not preserv-
ed in this manner, how could an illiterate woman,
who did not even know how to sign her name,
reproduce such an excellent thing as the tale of
Malaiichamala ? Daksina Ranjan got it from one
of these women, as an automatic record. In read-
ing these tales, we need not attach any importance
to the name, that appears on the cover, of one who
compiled them except for the
compared with other purposc of grateful ackuow-
MkSes. '^ ^'''^''' ledgment of his unselfish
labour. He had simply acted
as a medium in bringing down to us a treasure
that lay hidden in the rustic villages of
Bengal. He did not, like Harinath Majum-
dar, build a new tale out of the materials of the
past, nor did he, like Lai Bihari De, give a
34
266 rOLK LITEKATUEE 01" iJENGAL
gist of the stories in another tongue, nor like
the Mahomeclau writers did he introduce into
the stories foreign elements divesting them of
their original elegance ; neither did he like Pakir
Earn Kavibhusana try to invest the old stories
with a classical dignity and adorn them with
borrowed metaphors from Sanskrit. Daksina
llaiijan is an elegant Avriter of Bengali prose
and we can well conceive Avhat a control he had
to exercise on himself in order to shut himself
up altogether while compiling these stories. But
a deep love for the rural life inspired him ; and
merged in his cause he forgot himself altogether
like all great workers.
We shall attempt here to reproduce the story
of Malanchamala, as we find it, in Daksina
Babu's compilation. As some of the great
merits of Bengali tales will not be understood
or recognised until the readers find an opportu-
nity to be acquainted with this story, I may be
excused for introducing a full narrative here
at this fag-end of my lectures. There are many
stories which may be more or less elegant and
attractive than this, but it presents the old ideal
of womanhood in the most striking manner,
and is typical of the great virtues of the fair sex
as conceived by the Hindu nation.
Malanchamala
The King is childless.
His Majesty called all the astrologers, all the
Brahmans and all the hermits
chlmafa"'' "' '''^'"" of his countrv, and had sacri-
fices performed by them with a
view to having a son. At the end of the cere-
monies, the Sacred Oracle said :
" Observe fast, O king, for three days and
three nights. On the fourth day pay a visit to
your orchard. In it you will find a pair of
mangoes of golden hue. Break your fast with
them."
The Oracle further had it that the fruit on
the right side should be taken
The kinK .ets a son. ^^^, ^j^^ ^.^^ ^^^^^ ^^^^^ ^^ ^j^^ j^^^
by the queen.
By the king's order all music in the palace
was stopped, the royal court remained closed for
three days. His Majesty shut himself up in his
room bolting its doors. For three days and nights
the king observed fast and vigil. On the fourth
day the favourite horse of his stall, the Paksiraj,
stood near his door- way. The king took his bath
and performed the usual religious rites. He bowed
to the sacred dust of the temples and then rode
the Paksiraj. Instantly he was in the orchard.
There was a mango-tree in this orchard that
had not borne any fruit for three generations ;
268 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
this tree presented two beautiful mangoes of
the colour of gold. The king rubbed his eyes
with his two hands and when he was sure of what
he saw, promised offerings of sweets to the gods.
The gold-coloured fruits lay half-hid under
green leaves, hanging from one stalk. The king
shot arrows, but the fruits did not fall. He
pulled them by means of a hook, but still the
fruits could not be brought down.
His Majesty said, " How strange ! I am not
able ! The smaller stalks joining the fruits
should be kept as tliey are, let son^e of you pluck
the gold-coloured frnits, if he can."
The ministers, the architects, the courtiers
all tried one by one, but failed. The arrows
were shot, but they flew into an opposite direc-
tion. They applied hooks, which broke half-
way ; they tried to climb the tree, but the trunk
became slippery, and they could not succeed ;
one broke his arm and another his leg in the
attempt. With broken limbs they all returned
and sat crouching in the meadow.
The king tore olf his pearled necklace and
threw down his crown. He himself tried to climb
the tree. The kotwaP was there. He came
forward and said, " Victory be to the king. One
who is a master of good qualities himself can
* The kohml seema to be a police man of the status of an
Inspector.
THE kotwal's success 269
recognise the same in others. If Your Majesty
permits me, I may try."
" The elephants and horses are drowned, the
grasshopper says, " Let me fathom the waters."
All cried, " Shame" and hissed.
The king said, " All right, if you succeed,
there will be a shawl for your reward ; if you
fail, you will go to the scaffold."
The kotwal bowed low till his head touched
the very ground and observed, " If I am to kill
any living thing, let me try the elephant ; if I
am to plunder, let it be the royal treasury,
nothing short." Saying this, he took up a clod
of earth and muttering some mysterious words,
threw it at the furits. The fruits fell down
at the first stroke and rested at the hands
of the king. All hang down their heads
in shame.
The great music instantly sounded in the
king's palace. The horses neighed in the stall ;
the queen awoke from her sleep. The king
threw his own shatvl over the kotwaVs shoulders,
and riding the Paksiraj returned to his palace.
But the stalks broke in the way and which
of the fruits was on the right, and which
on the left, could not be known. The queen
ate the one that was on the right, and the king
the other.
Some months passed ; the queen became
enciente. The king was glad beyond measure.
270 FOLK LiTERA-TURE OP BEN'aAL
He distributed tlie pearls and jeAvels of his
necklace amongst his courtiers, and the royal
treasury was ojiened for charity.
Ten months passed. By the king's order
drummers were In'ouglit from the city of drum-
mers ; tabor-players were brought from the city
of tabor-players. The great sound of kada,
nakada, sanai, chakada, mrdanga and other
musical instruments was heard for ten days, and
all this time no bird dared to come down on the
earth for fear. On the night of the tenth day,
a baby was born in the palace ; the full moon of
the sky was no match for it. In the natal room
the baby prince lay surrounded by a halo of
light.
The kingdom flourished. The king made
offerings to God and distributed food amongst
men and animals.* He had tanks and ponds
dug in many places, established markets and
opened roads ; and everywhere his praises were
sung.
The sixth night came. The king covered
his courtvard with canopies,
,„™LS"n\'e°h,bf l-ringed with golden pendants.
Three series of lamps burnt,
fed by butter. There were 101 musical bands,
they played incessantly. On four sides there
were made four fire-places. The soldiers, sepoys,
* This is a Biulclhist or Jain custom.
DHAKA, TAKA, BIDHATA 271
sentinels and armed men kept watch in tlie palace
AAliole night. Paths strewn with fiowers Avere
opened up to the natal room. Over the posts,
raised for the occasion, hang garlands of flower ;
and sandal and vermilion were sprinkled over
the path. By this path, Dharcl, Tara and
Bidhata would go to write the luck of the bahy-
prince on the forehead.
The sentinels kept watch, and at intervals
the bands played. The maid-servants and nurses
lay cross-Avise at the threshold and narrated to
the queen tales of princes and their lady-loves.
The queen fell asleep as she heard the nursery
tales. The flower-Avoman who Avas reciting the
story, last of all, dozed till she also fell fast
asleep. The mid-night clock rang and the senti-
nels Avere feeling sleepy. Dhara, Tara and
Bidhata chose this hour to visit the natal room
by the path streAvn Avith flowers, scented Avith
sandal and reddened Avith vermilion. They
carried with them bundles of pens. When about
to enter, they saw a person lying cross-Avise at
the threshold. The gods liad raised their feet
but they A\4thheld ; all of them whistled together;
but the person did not aAvake. Time passed, Avhat
could they do? They called the three stars of
the sky to Avitness, and stepped over the sleeping
person. They noAV entered the natal chamber.
It was Dhara Avho first held the pen. He
indicated the learning, intelligence, wealth,
272 FOLK LITERATrUE OF BENGAL
number of followers and other fortunes of
the child by signs. On his palm the signs
of banner and lotus were marked, and the
god took notes from them, and wrote details in
full three hours; all the pens he had brought
with him were thus exhausted.
As he finished, next came Tara. He held
the pen and touched the child's forehead with it,
but threw away his pen forthwith, and rose up.
Dhara asked, "What do you find?" Tara turned
his face and said, "What more ? Let us go, the
baby-prince's life extends to 12 days only."
"Only 12 days ? Let me see."
The baby is to die on -tm _ - i j. i. p i •
the 12th day. Dhara began to count tor his
satisfaction ; each time he
calculated, the same result — 12. Dhara put
a zero after 12, but the zero mysteriously
vanished.
Then Dhara threw away the pen with disgust.
If the gods wept, the whole world would cry and
be wretched ; so they hid their tears with the
edge of their clothes and came out. But at the
threshold was the flower-woman lying cross-wise.
They called the three stars to witness and stepped
over. Dhara succeeded, but Tara's feet touched
the flower-woman ; she awoke and caught hold
of the feet of the god. *' Who art thou ? — a god
— a man — a spirit— or a robber ? The king's dar-
ling sleeps inside the room and I, the flower-
woman, keep watch at the threshold. Even Death
baby's life twelve days 273
has no power to come here." Tarasaid : "Flower-
woman, I am the god of luck, leave my feet."
"God of luck ! Tell me what hast thou written
on the forehead of the prince ?" The god felt
troubled, and said : "You need not hear that,
flower-woman, leave my feet." The flower-
woman tied, instead, the feet of the god tightly
with her apron. Then the god let fall the drop
of tear, that he had hid so long, over her and said :
" What more shall I say, woman, the prince's life
will extend to 12 days only."
" Only 12 days !" the woman burst into loud
bewailings. The drums suddenly burst ; the
music stopped ; the sentinel's spear pierced his
own breast. The queen arose with a start and
asked " What is the matter ?" The king himself
came out asking " What is the matter ?" The
ministers, the courtiers, in fact the whole
city came out enquiring "what is the matter ?
what is the matter ?"
The flower-woman beat her head against a
stone and cried "How many sacrifices did you
perform, oh King, and as a result got this child
bright as the full moon. Not even a fortnight,
oh King, this moon will vanish after 12 days.
Oh God, is it just and fair ?"
The king, his ministers, his courtiers fainted
in grief. The queen lay as one dead.
The elephants broke their chains and fled
from the stall. The horses died in the stable, the
36
274 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
Paksiraj, the favourite horse of the king, did not
touch any food. The kinsmen of the king and the
Brahmins of the city assembled near the mango
tree and observed fast, resigning themselves to
the will of God. Dhara, Tara and Bidhata visited
the other gods and said, "What justice is this that
a son born after so many sacrifices and offerings
to gods will live for 12 days only ? The king's
country stands on the verge of ruin, and the
earth is flooded with tears."
The gods said : " Yea, have things come to
such a pass ?" Their chief assumed the guise of
an old Brahmin and came near the mango tree.
The Brahmin was surrounded by a halo of light.
'I he citizens approached him and said : " Who are
you, oh Brahmin ? A light emanates from your
body ; whoever you be, the prince is going to
die shortly. This is his fate. Pray, Save him
if you can." The Brahmin said : "Even the
sun and the moon fall into the jaws of the Demon
of Eclipse. Who can alter the divine decree ?
Yet despair not, I «hall be able to say more
if I see the child once." The king and the
ministers took him to the natal room. The
Brahmin examined the palm, the forehead
and the face of the child and said : " The
life of this baby, seven days old, may be
prolonged if you can get it married to a girl
who has completed her 12th year t(j-day.
Adieu" The king placed the richest stones
A BRIDE OF TWELVE YEARS 275
and other valuables oi' his treasury at tlie feet of
the Brahmin. What will a god do with them ?
He, however, chose a bright diamond and carried
it with him. On his way he threw^ it towards
the cottage of the kotwal and then departed.
The night passed. The flowers bloomed in
the garden and the birds began their songs.
Messengers were sent all over the country,
seeking a princess, just 12 years old, to be the
bride of the baby prince. The messengers
returned from far and near and reported that
not one was found who had completed her
12th year that day. They all w^ent to the self-
same mango tree and Avaited observing fast.
On the other side of the tank facing the tree
stood Malaiichamala {lit. the
rieci^otgMofi2'"" garland of the garden), the
daughter of the kotwal who
had completed her 12th year that day. She was
washing the diamond, thrown by the god. She
had picked it up from her cottage-compound,
where it had lain, covered with mud and dirt,
as it had rained only shortly before. She carried
a pitcher with her and ths cymbals of her feet
made a merry sound on the landing steps of
the tank.
" Who is it whose cymbals sound so
sweetly — a goddess or a maid ?" wonderingly
asked all. The musician playing on stringed
lyre stopped and said "Is it the hum of bees
276 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
flying near a hive in the flower-garden ?" An-
other who played on a musical organ, cried " Is
it the cackle of the merry geese swimming in
the tank ?"
"Not so, then what ?"
The ministers and courtiers came near the
tank and saw that it was a girl of 12, whose
cymbals had sounded.
" A girl of 12 ! whose daughter is she ?"
She is the kotwaVs daughter. The king fell
into a mental confusion. The sound of the
cymbals of her feet is like the humming
of bees ; flowers bloom in the path which
she treads ; her arms are like swan's neck ;
her hair is of wavy curl ; the face is like the
moon and she looks like an image made of
gold. But after all, she is the kotwaVs daughter.
The king was perplexed. The report was carried
to the queen who said '* If the girl is so hand-
some, no matter, though she is the kotwaVs
daughter marry her to the prince and raise the
kotical to the status of a feudatory chief."
*' What am I to do ?" asked the king to him-
self ; he pondered over the matter. Sometimes
he sat in a pensive mood and then rose up and
after a good deal of thinking he commanded, —
" Well, be it so. Send words to the kotwaW
The report went there forthwith. The kotwal
put on the sha\vl presented by the king. He
took a spear in his hand and visited his
THE CONDITIONS 277
neighbours. He told them " T phicked the
iTLiits. The results is that my daughter is
going to be married to a prince. The king
will be my brother-in-law now. You must pay
me nazar^
The kofwal made a spacious road in his
courtyard. The main door of his house, he
changed into a gate ; he did not know what
he should do to meet the occasion. The kot-
wafs wife said " Here we humble people live
in huts and the sneeze of the king is even heard
here.* W"e are required to give our daughter
in marriage to a baby who will die after
12 days. Tell the king I am not going to
comply."
Malanchamala, the daughter said " Pappa
and Mamma, allow me to go, as it is the king's
command. But Pappa, go to him and first ask
if he will agree to my conditions."
" What conditions r" '" Whether the bride-
groom will be permitted to visit his father-in-law's
house ?" The kotwal said " Certainly." Malaii-
cha said " Another condition, whether my
father-in-law, the king, and mother-in-law, the
queen, will agree to partake of the food prepared
by me ?" ')^\iQ kotwal said "Yes, daughter." "The
third" she said " is whether they will be pre-
pared to give me dowries and presents as usual
0
* The king would oppress us though we are so humble.
278 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
on the marriage night." The kotivrd came to
the palace to meet the king. Meantime Malan-
chamala said " Mamma, help me to dress my-
self." What would the kohval's wife do r She
opened the toilet box and with tears in her eyes
helped her daughter to dress herself.
The Jcotival addressed the king thus, "Oh
thou, King of kings though thou art, yet I
shall have the privilege of calling thee a
brother, be it to-day, be it to-morrow. Thou
wilt accept my daughter but shalt not thou
allow the prince to go to the house of his
father-in-law ?" The king glanced at him
crookedly and brushing his hair with fingers
said " let the £i:irl first come to
Malancna s conditions. "-^
the palace on the marriage
night, the question will ,be settled then."
The kohvcil next asked, " Will Your Majesty
and the queen eat the meal prepared by my daugh-
ter ?" The king said " Take care, kotival, these
matters will be settled on the marriage night."
But, "Oh king, will not my daughter receive the
dowries and presents that are usual in marriages?"
" Look here, kotwal, but stop I say, 1 will
tell everything, when the girl comes to the
palace."
The kotival returned and told all these to
his daughter. Robed in her best of attires
she touched the feet of her parents and said
" Mamma, grant me leave, Pappa, lead me
THE baby's marriage 279
now to the palace ; but Pappa, tell the king, if
my husband dies on the first night of marriage,
may I be permitted to take away his dead body ?"
The kotioal went to the king and said as
instructed.
Now the king was wrath " Such big words
from this mean fellow ! This rustic girl has the
audacity to extort pledges from me in all matters
and dares worry me again and again ; she crosses
me beforehand and speaks evil things. Who is
there ? Put the kofwal to prison and bring his
daughter here through the air path and get her
married to the baby-prince."
It was the king's command. His people
forthwith went. They tied a palanquin high up
to the tops of some tall bamboos, and carried
Malancha by the air path.
It was a mockery of marriage ; there was no
present of scents, oil, no fasting and other rites
usual before marriages. Only one musical pipe
sounded, and the marriage came to a close. The
Brahmins recited the mantras-, the new born baby
cried, the queen came to suckle it and the drum-
mers tried to stop its crying by beating their
drums. No flowers, no garlands ; the bride went
seven times round the baby-prince, and then carry-
ing him in her arms entered the nuptial room.
As soon as she came to her apartments, there
came down an outpour of rain ; the towers of the
palace broke and the palace itself caught fire ; the
280 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
baby-prince vomitted milk and died in the arms
of his wife. There was a great
The baby dies and i .1. • ii i i.i
Maiancha's punishment. bewaUuig HI the palacc ; the
king ran mad and the queen
fainted. The citizens in bewildered grief came to
the palace, and waited near the room where
Malancha lay with the dead prince. The king
said ''There is no doubt of it, she is a witch, catch
her by the hair and drive her out of the room.
Pick out her eyes and burn them." There was
a great agitation among the crowd. They forced
open the room. Malancha said to the nurses
and maid-servants " Ask my father-in-law and
mother-in-law what will thev do reo-ardins; the
words they pledged. " " Wliat words ?" " They
gave assurance that the bridegroom will be per-
mitted to go to my father's house ; will they
agree to it now ?"
" Who is there ? " cried the king, "send the
kotwal to the regions where the prince has
gone." A sound indicated that the kotioaVs
head was struck off. Malancha said " I have
seen enough, 0 nurses, ask the king and queen
about the other words that they selemnly gave
me" '' AVhat are those ?" "Will they not eat the
meal prepared with my hands ?" " Nurses,
cut off the hands of the kotwaVs daughter."
The nurses cut off her hands, with the knife
that was among the dowries ; blood gushed
out and flowed past the drain. Malaiicha
THE PUNISHMENT 281
saidj "I see it clearly, what about the other
promises that he had made." " What promises?"
"Tell the monarch to give me as dowry a milch
covr, five lights fed with butter, sandal-wood,
a stove of gold, a spoon of pearls, cups of silver
and gold, ])illow"s of white mustard seeds,
hand-made beddings of fine needle-work, silver
pencil to put the black paint in the eyes. Let
him not make any enquiries about his son
and the bride."
" See how audacious is this daughter of the
kotwal ! Who is there, break open the doors
of her room." Then the dowry was offered
in the following manner; an ass for the cow,
gravels for sandal-wood, a basket of cane for
the golden stove, a broken earthen pitcher in
place of the spoon and cups. And the shells
of cocoanut fruits were strung together and
put around her neck. A. basket w^as filled
with cow-dung and tied behind her back. She
was made to put on rags and refuse -clothes
picked up from the cremation ground, and with
a looking glass in her hand she was made to ride
the ass, and in this condition was carried
round the city. Her head was shaven and
order was passed to banish her, as she
was a witch. Malanclia said "Ask my father
in-law and my mother-in-law what about their
other pledges?" "What are they?" "My
husband died in the nuptial room. They had
36
282 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
promised to make a gift of him to me." "A
gift ?" "All right, who is there, kindle the funeral
fire." The fire was prepared,
On the funeral fire, ii n j iU^,.,.
the names rose up and there
was great noise. The dead prince was given to
Malancha. Her nose and ears were cut off and
she with the baby was thrown into the fire.
Then came down a great outpour of rain,
jham ! jJiam ! Jham ! The fire was nearly
extinguished. The gobblins and spirits of the
air came there with hungry looks. The
Paksiraj horse went mad ; it neighed and came
there. The king, the ministers and his people
left the funeral ground and saved themselves by
shutting the city gate. In the
midst of the funeral fire,
Malancha sat with the baby-prince in her lap.
Malancha asked, " Is my husband dead or
asleep ?"
''Dead."
Malancha again asked, "Is my husband
dead or asleep ?"
"Dead." •
Again the same query "Is my husband dead
or asleep ?"
"Asleep."
She smiled and took up the child in her
arms and pressed it to her breast. Blood gushed
forth from her nose and ears that were cut ;
The gobblins licked them.
THE APPARATIONS 283
"Malancha, is it you that are sitting
there?"
"Yes."
"What will you do with such a husband ?
OfFer us the dead 1)ody."
"No."
The wood of the funeral pyre gradually
became stirred with life ; hands and legs grew
in them, they walked hop, hop, Jiop.
"Is it you, Malaficha, that are sitting there?"
"Look here jVlalancha, so many of us are
lying in wait for the dead body, give it to
us."
"No."
Sometime passed ; the smoke issuing
from the funeral pyre took the ^hape of a
series of grim teeth. Loud laughter came
all on a sudden. " Malancha, are you still
sitting there ?" " Yes, what of that?" "Give us
the dead child, the fire will be extinguished."
" No, I will not give." "Will you not give ?"
"No."
From one side rose an old woman with a
strange and coarse voice "Malancha, you are
going to be killed, make over the dead body to
me." From the other side, an old man sprang up
with a grimace, "Yon will be killed ere long,
give me the child and save vourself," The
crocodiles and sea-fishes came up to the river-
bank and called out, "Malaficha, make over
284 FOLK LITEIIA.TURE OF BENGAL
the child to us, we will appease our hunger
with it." In the sky the very rains and light-
nings and the spirits that rove in the air gaped
open their mouths, sneezed and yawned, exclaim-
ing "Malancha, give us the tender bones, how
glad shall we be to eat them up."
Malancha did not heed all these. She
clasped the baby close to her breast and sat
quietly. Days and months passed on ; on the
sandy shore of the .river a great forest grew
up. 'i'he brother of the Messenger of Death
was Kaladuta, his brother was ^aladuta who
approached Malancha and said, "It is the
command of the Lord of Death, give up the
dead body." Malancha replied, "Who are you ?
Take, if you have the power to do so." Kaladuta
and Caladuta melted away in the air. There was
moon-light all around. Next came an exceed-
ingly pretty girl with a bright complexion and
lovely intelligent face. Her hands and feet
were tender. She said, " Is it you Malancha ?
We were great friends when we were children.
You seem to have forgotten all. Oh, what is
it ? Oh God, what a condition ! AVith a dead
rotten baby in your lap ! Throw it away, throw
it away." Malancha said, "Who are you that
profess friendship to me ? Have you no feel-
ing of a wife for her husband ?" The girl said,
"Alas Malancha, is this corpse your husband ?
Make it over to me for a moment and go and
THE BABY RESTORED TO LIFE 285
fetch a little water from the river." "There is
no water in the river." "Oh yes, if there were
water in the river, things would not come to
this pass." "Bring some medicinal herb." "There
is none." "Oh Malancha, look up there, the
sky is overcast with clouds, the floods come pour-
ing, arise, dear, here is my hand, place the haby
in my lap, arise, haste, I say." Malancha
clasped the baby closer to her breast and said,
"Be witness, oh gods, here is my baby-husband
in my lap, if I am chaste and devoted, oh you
tempter, do but touch me, and you will be reduc-
ed to ashes ; I am Malancha and none other; you
are an evil spirit, go hence. Oh thou night, if
thou dost not pass away, with my baby-hus-
band in my lap, here do I solemnly say, I will
transform the stars to fire and flowers to
stars." The night was frightened and
passed away trembling ; the dawn peeped into
the forest-lands. The girl, her friend, said,
"Malancha, look at the baby." Malancha felt
that the apparitions were all gone. The baby
in her lap was gently moving its hands and
feet, and she seemed to be in the midst of
a vast expanse of sands. Malancha, intensely
willing to see the baby,
ul"' ar/nlfu gradually got her sight; she
recovers her eyes and ^yeut iu QUCSt of a pitchcr for
limbs. ^ ^
milk. Ready for service she felt
that her hands grew. She recovered her ears;
286 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
her nose became what it formally had been ;
the hair of her head fell in luxuriant curls
behind her back. Malancha addressed her girl-
companion and said, "May your husband be
long-lived. Who are you ? I abused you, look at
my condition and pardon me." Malancha found
there a stove of gold, sandal-woods, pillows of
white mustard seed and spoons made of pearls.
She made a fire with sandal-wood, warmed the
milk and put it in a silver cup ; then with the
spoon made of pearls, she fed the baby ; she
wiped away the neck and the face of the baby
with her silken apron ; then on a bed delicately
wrought with needle, she made the baby
sleep, resting his head on the pillow. She
sat with her back towards the sun, and with a
silver pencil applied the black paint to the baby's
eyes.
Thus did she live in the sandy shore with her
little husband. She fasted all the while. She got
milk and every thing, and fed the baby. She
applied the black paint to its eyes, and warmed
it with her apron. There she sat all the time,
gazing at the child. The little husband laughed,
and she smiled ; he cried, and she wept. When
he began to utter inarticulate words, she gave
replies ; the little thing moved hands and feet,
she played with him ; she bathed him with tears,
wiped away his dust with her hair, warmed him
with her breast, covered him with the edge of
SHE MEETS A TIGER 28*7
her cloth and sat clasping him close to her breast.
Days and months passed, and
The nnrsinir. n -i • j i •
even a year rolled away m this
way. Malancha had a pitcher of milk which
was never to be empty. The gods, with mouths,
pointed like needles, drank off this milk.
Mcilancha found there ^^as no more milk in
the pitcher. Carrying the baby-husband in her
arms, Malancha set out in quest of human
habitation for coav's milk.
In that limitless expanse of that alluvial land,
she walked on and on. If the sun smote the
baby's face, she covered him with her cloth ; if
rain fell, she protected him in her bosom ; if dust
blew, she kept it away by spreading her hair; she
fanned him with her flowing hair. She went
one step and then stop2)ed, thus did she proceed
in her journey. xVt last she reached a dense
forest. Alas ! where is human
n ques o iiu . habitation ? Wlicre is milk ? She
saw, instead, a large tiger ; it approached her
with a hungry growl. " I am grown old, dear
maid, I have no strength to go seeking for
prey, I am almost starved. I must eat this
baby," it said. "Look here tiger, he is my
husband, he is so small that if you eat him, your
hunger will not be appeased, so eat me instead."
" Is he your husband, child ? With such a one
you are in a dense forest! I will eat none of
you ; live here, child, I will be your guard."
288 FOLK LITEKATUKE OF BENGAL
Malancha said, '' Uncle, that's good, but how
can I feed my baby husband ? Where is milk to
be had ?" " Milk? Yes, you are human beings
the baby must drink milk. All right let me see,
if I can secure a cow for you." The tiger went
aw^ay. Malancha WT.pt and said, " Where are ye,
oh gods ? The baby is crying for hunger ; if by
sacrificing my life, one drop of milk I can get,
I am ready to do so." The tigress appeared at
this moment with her cubs. She said, " Who art
thou, child, weeping for milk in this forest ?
If my milk will do, you can have it from me."
"Yes, it wdll do." "T^he tiger meantime returned
and said that he could not procure a cow and
looking at the tigress exclaimed, "You are here,
now see, I forgot all about it." Chandramanik
(the baby prince) w^as suckled by the tigress and
grew^ up. The tigress and her mate w^re their
guards Malancha thus lived in that forest ; she
watched her little husband at every step ; she
walked keeping pace with him ; she gathered
flowers and fruits for him ; she sang lullabies to
make him sleep and played with him when he
awoke, and thus spent five years.
With tearful eyes, Malancha one day said,
" Uncle and aunt, I have to leave this place
now\" "What word is that?
In quest of a tutor, -rx i • m n
Do not say so again, lell us
what has happened, w^hose neck shall we break ?
Name the offender ; we will instantly eat him
THE GARDEN SMILES ONCE MORE 289
up." " No uncle and aunt, nothing of the
sort. You do not know it, my husband is
a prince ; he has just stepped into his fifth-
year. How can I avoid placing him under a
tutor." "Is that all? Then make arrangement
for it at once. There are so many scholars who
rove here in mornings and evenings, crying out
' hukka hua '^ ; you have simply to ask for it and
we shall secure some of those from the forest for
education of the prince." "No uncle, they
will not do for us, I am going away ; enquire
about us now and then, I shall live close to some
city." Malailcha took leave with tears. The
tigress and her mate accompanied her till she
got out of the forest. For four days after her
departure, the grisly couple of the forest ate
nothing. The cubs wandered about uncared
for.
Malancha proceeded in her journey with
Chandramanik in her arms. After some days she
came near a garden, belonging to a flower- woman.
The tank there was without water and no flower
had bloomed in it for twelve years ; the garden
had become a regular forest of thorny plants and
an abode of snakes. It was a hot day and
Malancha rested there a while, greatly fatigued.
* " Hulcka hua " is the familiar word iu Bengali to denote the yell of
the fox.
37
290 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
As she sat there, the bees began to hum and
bh'ds with coloured wings flew near about her
in numbers. Each tree became covered with
green leaves, and each of them had on it a
creeper laden with flowers. Their fragrance
drew the attention of the
cottlge^"'^^'"''^""'''" ' flower-woman, who came out.
" Por twelve years there has
been no flovver in my garden, no water in the
tank, but to-day the garden smiles with flowers,
and a beautiful lotus has bloomed in that tank.
It seems there has come a change over my luck.
What is it that has made the garden so to-day ?"
As she looked out, she saw that under the shade
of a Vakul tree on Avhich sat a cuckoo making
the place resonant with its cooings, there sat a
goddess with a baby in her lap, bright as the
moon. The flower-woman approaching her said,
" What heaven is that of which you are a
dweller, child ? Your presence makes a desert
bloom, tell me who you are ?" Malancha said,
"I am a humble being of the earth, I have sat
here to rest a while." "Come inside my cot.
Your face and hands and complexion resemble
those of my niece who died twelve years ago. All
this time, I have wept over her untimely death ; is
it she that has come back to me in the lovely form
I see before me ?" "I do not know that aunt, I
have just now come to your garden." "Never
mind, come to my house." The flower-woman
IN THE flower-woman's HOUSE 291
was pleased that she woukl be able to sell flowers
to the palace every day, a,nd Malaficha felt she
would be able to get information regarding
the city from her. Both entered the cottage.
The flower-woman said, " You look pale, child,
take "^ome food." Malancha said, "Give me some
milk if you hav^e it." Malancha fed the child
and dusted the rojom fixed for her and brought
some flowers from the garden, which she placed
around the bed of her little husband. And
then she told the flower-woman, " Aunt, I do
not take meal prepared by others, help me to
get things, I shall cook for myself." The
flower-woman was pleased and did as she was
asked. Malancha did not disclose to her that
the child was her husband. The cottage of the
flower-woman was a wretched one. Malancha
said, " It is not a good house, aunt, appoint men
to build a good one." A new house was built,
formerly there had been only a single hut in the
house and now it contained three huts. In one
she lived with the prince, in another the flower-
woman and the third had no occupant. Malancha
asked the flower- woman one day, "Where do
the students read in the city?" "Why, there
is a teacher in the palace who has a number of
scholars in his charge. There is quite a legion
of them ! There are hunchbacks and frog- voiced
scholar*!, there are those who have elephantiasis
and others who are huck-shouidered. Besides
292 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
there are sons of the king also. Day and
night, they hum like bees and croak like ravens.
It is a sight worth seeing — a veritable mart of
crows and cranes."^ "Then aunt, the prince
must go there. Get for him inkstand and pens
and take him to the school."
Chandramanik goes to school and returns
with marks of ink all over his face. The room
that was unoccupied serves now as his reading
room. Malancha engages the flower- woman
to help him to bathe, to wash his face marked
with ink. Malancha cooks the meal and keeps
it ready and then goes away. The flower-
woman brings him to the dining place and sits
by him when he eats. But Malancha no more
appears before Chandramanik, fearing lest the
child takes her for his mother. Malancha re-
mains in her room and from there gazes at her
little husband with eyes full of love ; but she
retires when Chandramanik comes to a place
from which he may see her. Thus passed another
seven years.
The name of the king of that country was
Dudhabaran or ' milk-coloured.' His seven sons
and the young princess read in that school.
But the latter makes no progress in her studies.
1 " C^ ^t^ Ttft^ lf^^ ^^ ^^ ^t^ I f C5f1, ^v^, c^z^, c^M
W5'^'^\ ^Tt^, ^W^ ^t^*fa ^ ^ '^tCf I fW^ ?t^ tlt%f^ Irf'Tf'fl^,
THE PLAN OF THE PRINCES 293
The brothers ask, " How is it, Kilnchi, that
you make no progress in your studies, though
you evidently take pains ?" " Look at him,
brothers, how glorious does he look like the moon-
beams ; his face, and his forehead have the air of
a god. They say that he is the son of a gardener.
I have acquired all the learning that is in the
four Vedas and eight Puranas by gazing at his
face. Was ever a human being so handsome?"
The princes were startled at these words. They all
said, " We must see that the gardener's son never
comes to the school again."
The discovery by the rrii n i i • j. ^i •
princes. They called him to then' pre-
sence and said, " Your face and
hands are spotted with ink ; we shall not allow
it. If you come to the school with dirty clothes
to-morrow, we shall hand you over to the public
executioner." The princes thought, " How can
the son of a gardener be expected to have clean
clothes, he will not attend school from to-morrow."
Chandramanik left his books
pJn^Sme'^impossiWe ^ud rctumcd homo weeping.
dramanTk. ^"' "^''"" Malaucha said, " See aunt, why
is he weeping?" The flower-
woman — " He tells me there are only a few hours
of the day and the intervening night, in the
morning he would be made over to the public
executioner." " Why ?" The flower-woman
gave out the history. Malaficha said — " Aunt,
here is the money, go and get such fine
294 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
dresses as may even be coveted by a prince."
Malancha was in possession of immense wealth
as she haJ got th'^ diamond. The next day the
princes were sm-prised to see Ghandi:«manik robed
like a king's son. " Where could the fellow get
such a splendid dress that even we have not got ?"
Kanchi said to her seven brothers, " Whac do you
sav now ? Does a gardener's son look like that ?"
The princes then addressed Chandramanik and
said, "You little gardener, you have come with a
gorgeous dress ! But shame ! with such a dress
you came walking. If you do not come to-morrow
in a stately palanquin, we will make you over to
the executioner." They thought " He may have
got a gift of the dress, but it will not be possible
for him to get a stately palanquin, so he will not
be able to attend school to-morrow." Chandra-
manik returned home that day also weeping. He
left aside his dress and threw himself on the
dusty ground. Malancha asked the flower-woman
the reason. " There are a few hours of this day
and the intervening night, after that he will be
handed over to the executioner." " To-day also
to be handed over to the executioner, why ?"
" He dresses himself well but goes walking."
" Very well take money, bring all the best palan-
quins available in the city." The flower-woman
went, but no palanquin-bearer would consent
even for wages to carry a gardener's son. Malan-
cha said, " Pay each man ten gold coins."
THE RACE 295
So a basketful of gold coins was distributed,
and the best of the pahinquins were brought.
There was among them one used by princes and
noblemen only, with a gold umbrella overhead
and in this sat Chandramanik, and other palan-
quins went surrounding it. Men assembled to
see the procession in the street. The scholars
sprang to their feet. " Come princes," said
Kauchi, " See how glorious the school looks to-day !
Like a jewel shining in the middle of a gold-string
he looks. I am your only sister and you are
seven brothers ; if you do not marry me to
Chandramanik, I Avill commit suicide." The
seven brothers found themselves really in a
puzzling situation. They said, " You gardener's
son, you have done all, now you must have a
horse. The horses of us, seven brothers, will be
at several points within the range of seven and
a half miles. Your horse will occupy the last
point. We will apply whip to our horses, if
you can win the race, well and good, if not,
you will be handed to the public executioner."
The princes thought " The gardener's son will
never be able to ride a horse, as soon as he will
try to do so, he will fall down and die." Chandra-
manik was sorrowful again and returned home
with tears in his eyes. Malancha said, " Aunt,
see what has happened again." 'I he flower-
woman gave the account. " All right aunt, here
is the money. Spend it as need arises. I shall
296 fol:& literature of bengal
go in quest of a horse. I will stay out not more
than three days at any event, but return with the
horse within the time."
Malancha went on and on. She passed
through 13 territories that belonged to 12 Rajas,
and then came to a city where she saw the palace-
gate closed and doors of houses all bolted from
within. The courts did not sit, their doors lay
closed also. The good luck of the king had left
him and the city looked like a desert. The Paksi-
raj, the favourite horse of the king, had run mad;
it ran wildly and killed every man that walked
in the city. Malancha, when she heard all these,
cried out " Where art thou, Oh Paksiraj ? Dost
thou remember Chandramanik ? " The voice
reached the horse, and it ran up to her with
ears erect. It said, " How could you know
the name of Chandramanik, child, shall I ever
get him back ?" Malancha said, "Paksiraj, come
with me then." Malaiicha set out for her place,
followed by the horse. The citizens were aston-
ished. " Chandramanik died years ago. She
names him ; she catches the mad horse ; what
charmer is she?" They all felt a surprise.
The queen said, " Who is she ? Go and find her
out." Malancha sang as she went " 0 king, it is
the self-same horse which you rode when you went
in quest of the two fruits. You got a son whom
you married to kotwaVs daughter, carrying her
through the air-path. It is she that has come
SHE RETURNS WITH THE HORSE 297
back to take away the horse. Only a few
days still remain to complete twelve years.
After that you will have the full account, not
now." And Malancha went away. The king
said, ** What ? Is it Malancha ? Malancha has
saved the city from the horse. Malancha has
caught it. I had her hands and ears cut off and
punished her in the most cruel manner. Alas !
has she come back ? Open your doors, citizens."
Her mother recognised her, her brothers re-
cognised her. To-day her ears and nose are fine
as flower-buds, the fingei;s look like champaka
flowers ; her eyes have a keen sight, bright
as the sun or the moon. They all cried out,
"Malancha, Malaiicha," and ran after her. But
they could not find her for she had left the city
with the Paksiraj by that time. The king sent
messengers in all directions. He invited the
kotwaVs wife to the palace and entertained her
with a rich banquet, and the queen herself dined
with her. Days and nights passed, they anxious-
ly waited for news about Malancha.
Now in the city of Dudhabaran, the king, the
morning conch-shells sounded. The scholars
rose up and attended their lessons. The words
of a true woman never fail. She had returned
with the horse. The flower-woman saw fire
coming out of the eyes of the animal ; its ears
were erect, and the sharp hoofs cat the earth that
trembled under their strokes, The flower-woman
88
298 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
said, " What am I to do now, child ?" Malancha
said, " Take the horse, it is ready." " What
else you would say, I am ready to do, but
I venture not to come near that animal." "Don't
fear, it will not hurt you, aunt." " No child, for
my life I will not be able to do it." Malaiicha
hang her head down for a moment ; she wiped
away the sweat from her brow, and then spread
a beautiful seat on the back of the horse ; with
eyes downcast and head drooping low, she helped
her husband to ride the horse. She then tied
several knots in the edge of her sadi, and address-
ing the animal said, " You know what you should
do ; my husband is a boy, I place him in your
charge. I will open the knots in the course of the
day. By the time all be opened you must bring
him back to me." At this moment she held up the
reins so that her husband might catch them, and
took the opportunity of seeing his face for a
moment. On the plea of dusting his shoes, she
bowed down to his feet. Chandramanik said,
" Who are you ? You are always near about
me, but do not speak to me. You cook my meal
but do not serve me. I have seen your hands
and feet to-day, you have to-day looked at my face
and touched my feet. Who are you to me ?"
" Who ? You ask me, I am the daughter of the
kotioaiy She hid her face with her hair on
the pretext of arranging them, stopped a liitle
and then in haste drew out a thread from her
THE PRINCE WINS 299
cloth and put it round the neck of the horse and
let it go. The Paksiraj ran as if flying in the
air. Mjilancha threw herself down on the hare
ground near the tank in grief.
In the school the princes were surprised to see
the horse. *' It is of the Paksiraj -species, we
have not got such a horse in our stahle ; where
could the gardener's son get it ?" Like the
young one of a hird feeling its wings just grown,
the horse hrooked no delay. Chandramanik
held the reins tightly. The horse's hody moved
like a wave, its four feet struck the earth in
impatience. The princes were at their wit's end.
They spoke hetween themselves, " As we have
given word, we must be ready for the race. Even
if he wins, the kingdom is ours, who will prevent
us from sending him to the scaffold ?" They cried
out, " Ho, gardener's son, if you go ahead of us,
we will put you to death. You must be seven
and a half miles behind." This really was the
arrangement. Each rider was ahead of the next
by a mile and the last of all was Chandramanik.
He called out, " Have you commenced the race,
or have you not ?" No reply. They had set out
long before. Now Chandramanik started. The
Paksiraj flew through the air, and went ahead of
the others in no time. The princes exclaimed,
" No. The race is not yet won, it is only the
east, now come to the north." Chadramanik
only smiled and beat them in the north. In the
3(30 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
west also he beat them and he ■won also in the
south. The princes said, "We are satisfied.
Your horse is a very fine one ; now the people of
the palace will like to see it. So let us return."
" Yes, be it so," said Chandramanik and applied
his whip to the Paksiraj. The
Winner of the race. . , . «• it ii j
stroke tore orr the thread
Malaiicha had tied round the neck of the horse.
The thread was wrought by all the virtues she had
acquired in her past lives, it was charmed by her
tears. It fell in the earth's dust — uncared for.
Paksiraj drew a heavy breath, and then set off.
It stopped near the gate of the palace, and all
voices cried, " Who is it that has won the garland
of victory ?" On the golden tower of the palace
where lay the golden cup, sat Kanchi, the princess,
who herself looked like a statue of gold. Prom
that height she observed Chandramanik coming,
and flung down the garland she had woven ;
the garland touched the head-dress of Chandra-
manik and then hang on his neck.^ The multi-
tude cried, " What is it ? What is it ?" But the
princess had given her garland to Chandramanik
and this implied marriage and there was no help.
All became silent. The seven princes came, and
with outward cordiality escorted Chandramanik
to the court of the king. The king called his
councillors and said, " Does our law permit that
' The present of a flower-garland to a man implied his election by a
woman as her bridegroom.
MALAKCHA GETS THE REPORT 30i
the king's daughter should marry a gardener's
son ?" They said, " It may be
Marries and is 'n J.^ i »
imprisoned. §0, it the gardener s son re-
mains in prison for 12 years."
There was no alternative left. The marriage
took place. For three days and three nights
there were great amusements in the palace. On
the fourth day, the seven princes put a chain
round Chandramanik's neck and led him to the
prison and there left him.
Now the Paksiraj came back where Malancha
lay on the bank of the tank. She was on the
dusty ground and saying to herself, "Alas! why
did I not let him know who I am ! Why did I
not tell him when he asked it ?" Then she
saw before her the Paksiraj. She asked, " What
is it Paksiraj, where is my husband ?" Malan-
cha's eyes became fiery. She rose from her dusty
bed, " Alas, what do I see ? what have I done ?"
She threw herself on the ground in grief.^ The
Paksiraj said, " What should I say to you, child ?
On the tower of the palace there sat the princess
with a garland in her hand, that garland has
drawn your sweet husband to the palace." As
she heard this she rose up, but did not weep.^
^ She felt misgivings as regards Chandramanik's life, not seeing
him on the horse-back ; she regretted having sent him for the race.
" Mark the change of emotions in her. There had been a presenti-
ment of something wrong having befallen her husband, but now she was
asiured that he was safe and happy. Her own happiness was lost for
eT«r, but she did not care for her personal gorrown.
302 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
She said, " Paksiraj, it is all right now ! My
mission in bringing up my husband for
these 12 years is fulfilled to-day. To-day
the 12th year is complete. Paksiraj, I have
given you trouble, pardon all, and remember
me the fortunate^ one. I will give you a
letter. Please give it to my father-in-law,
the king. Then Malancha, wrote thus : " Oh
king, my father-in-law, the life of the prince
was to close on the 12th day. Twelve years are
now complete. If you come to the palace of the
king Dudhabaran, you will find there the prince,
your son. The princess there is an expert
weaver of garlands. He has married her and all
his trouble is over. When this letter will reach
you, Oh great king, my father-in-law, dip your
toes for a moment in the water of the tank where
you first saw me, recollecting me — the kotivaVs
daughter." She gave the letter to the horse.
She gave it some grass and water and then bade
adieu. With her clothes soiled with dust, with
dusty feet, she returned not by the roundabout
garden-path by which she had been used to go,
but by the road facing the cottage, which she had
» The word ' fortunate ' has a significance. The mission of her
whole existence was to see him happy. That mission was now fulfilled.
She was not swayed by any personal consideration. She called herself
fortunate, because her husband was now happy in every respect ; fo a
parallel passage one may quote Chandi DJis's familiar lines, " ^tfl f»lBr
^«i 5:<t f^i ^1 «itf^ I c^tita ^^ ^»t^ Itfj? I"
HOMEWARD, TO DIE 303
not trodden before.^ She arranged all her
things and made them over to the flower- woman,
saying, " Aunt, I did not disclose to you
all this time, but I do so to-day. He whom
I brought up all these years is my husband.
All that I have, I give to you. Do not
remember my faults, dear aunt, I shall bear
the burden of my debt of gratitude to you for
the rest of my life. Aunt, I have come to bid
adieu to you." The flower- woman saw every-
thing dark before her eyes and almost fainted.
And Malancha went away from her presence
and set out for her own city, in order to drown
herself in the tank of her
herlir''^''*"'^'""'" father's house. "In the tank
near which I got the diamond,
in the city where I lost my father, will all
my griefs come to an end. How happy
is the princess Kanchi in the arms of her
husband ! How happy shall I be to-day drown-
ing myself in the beautiful water of the
tank ! " Malancha thought, " What fault can I
find in my husband ? He wanted to know who I
am, I never told him that he was my husband ! "
Malancha followed her course. The flower-
woman's garden was left behind — the big and
small tanks were left behind. In that path
' She did not appear before Chandramanik when he was grown-up
lest he called her mother ; this was the reason for her avoiding the main
road to the cottage.
304 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
neither any human being nor any animal
was to be seen. Proceeding still further, she
met the tiger and the tigress. Malancha said,
addressing them, " Aunt, eat me up, uncle, eat
me up ; " ^she turned to the cubs now grown
to full vigour, and said, " Ye are my brothers,
eat me up." " Oh child, here are you again,
tell us where had you been all this time."
" In the garden of a flower- woman." " Where
is he whom you carried in your arms and
whom we nourished with our milk, where is
that darling child of ours— Chandramanik ? "
" The princess of that country has given
him her garland. Aunt and uncle, what day
can be more happy to me than now ? Eat
me up to-day." The tiger and the tigress heard
the whole story from Malancha and sat crouching
near her, " Child, then it is not the marriage-
garland, it is the prisoner's chain." " Prisoner's
chain, why ? " " If a gardener's son marries the
daughter of a king he shall be subjected to a
penalty of 12 years' imprisonment. This is the
custom of the land." Malancha bit her lips and
firmly stood up.^ The tiger said, "Take this glue
from our head and put it on yours. Now let us all
go to the city." Malancha said nothing, as soon
as she applied the glue to her hair, she became
» She had thought that there was nothing more in the world, for
which Bhe would care to live ! But there was a complete change in
her attitude. She was resolved to rescue her husband from danger,
THE FLOWEll-WOMAN RUNS MAD 305
invisible to others. The tiger and the tigress
with their whole flock started for the city of
Dudhabaran.
Meantime the Paksiraj returned to its own
city. It carried the letter to the king. When
it came up to the palace-gate, the whole
city was frightened. The king and the queen
trembled, fearing that the horse must have
killed Malailcha and come back. The Paksiraj
said, " No cause of fear. Your Majesty may
read this letter." ''If it is a letter, let it be
carried to me by means of a hook from a safe
distance." The king read the contents and
became greatly elated with joy. He said, " I have
got my Ghandramanik again." " Where is he ? "
cried all. " In the kingdom of Dudhabaran."
The king called back all the messengers that he
had sent in quest of Malailcha ; he called all his
army and sent them out in four divisions, viz., to
the east, west, north and south, in quest of the
capital of Dudhabaran. The king after much
search arrived at a place where a mad flower-
woman was found to tear off flowers by her
fingers, break small twigs and branches, pelt
clods of earth into a tank and cry " Oh my
niece, Oh my darling boy."
Song.
" My darling Ghandramanik is in chains.
The chaste wife, my niece, has gone away to
the ■ forest losing her husband. Here in this
39
306 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
tank, my niece, used to bathe every morn and
eve ; here by this path she used to come to the
cot with her pitcher filled with water. Chandra-
manik, my darling, used to sit and read here ;
and there on that couch he used to sleep."
The king said, " It is all right. Stop
and pitch our tents here." The king sent
a letter to Dudhabaran to the following
effect. " King Chandra of Chandrapur sends
this letter to Your Majesty. Is my son in
your palace ? Hear, Oh Dudhabaran, give me
the right information, where have you kept my
son and how is he doing in the palace.
Chandramanik is the name of my son ; he used
to read in the school attached to your palace.
Is it true that your daughter has given her
garland to my son ? If you wish everything
well, give back my son to me and take away his
chains, and also send to my camp my datighter-
in-law who belongs to our family now."
Dudhabaran said in reply, "If he is your
son, come and fight. If you be the victor, take
him by force." The king gave order to attack
Dudhabaran's capital, and him-
plilstlfiner""" self led the expedition. Dudha-
baran's army was stronger,
so he could not succeed in his attempts and
became a prisoner himself.
The day passed and the night approached.
Made invisible to others by the charm given
CHANDRAMANIK ESCAPES 307
by the tiger, Malanclia went inside the prison-
room where her husband lay. He was reduced
to half his normal weight. There under the
heavy chain he lay in the dust. Malancha wiped
away her tears and went near
tei'^nrtt "'Lt him. She had nothing with
her. She took up the iron
chain and applied all her might to break it by
her teeth. Was it possible to do so ? In full three
hours she broke one of the four folds of the chain
the attempt costing her eight teeth ; thus losing
all her teeth towards the end of the night, she
broke the four-fold chain. The chain broke and
fell down with a sound. Blood streamed forth
from her gums ; she smiled in her triumph but
fainted.
Chandramanik now awoke from his sleep ; he
did not notice Malancha lying there in an
unconscious state. He, however, found that the
chain was broken. A tigress had suckled him ; so
his strength was great, he rose up and broke open
the door and came out. Chandramanik was sur-
rounded by a halo of light, and it took the tiger-
and the tigress no time to recognise him. They
said to their companions, " Now we have got our
Manik; let us go and eat up the inmates of Dudha-
baran's palace." The tigers
tiJ?tigeTs°' ™'''^' ^^ in great number came and
attacked the palace. They killed
the horses and elephants, the domestic animals
308 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
and men, and made a feast with them. They ate
up Dudhabaran and his seven sons, they all
growled setting up a terrible roar and went in
quest of Dudhal)aran's daughter — the princess
Kanchi. Now Malancha had come back to her
senses, she ran like a mad girl towards the tigers.
" What are you doing, Oh uncle, you have indeed
done a great evil; you have left no one to
light the evening-lamp in this great palace.
Don't eat my husband's father-in-law, his mother-
in-law and their sons. Don't eat the princess
Kanchi, the treasure of my husband's heart." The
tiger said, " Alas, what have we done ? We have
eaten the king, the queen and their sons and
followers ! we have been greedily pursuing the
princess. You forbid us to do so." Malancha beat
her head against a stone and said, " Don't do so,
if you are still hungry, eat me." Malaiicha
approached them and the tigers left the princess
and said, " We have had a sumptuous feast, we
are now very thirsty." Malaiicha brought some
pitchers and went to the tank to fetch water.
Dudhabaran's city was thus depopulated
by the tigers. The captive king now came
out, and Chandramanik was in the midst of
his own men. The king ordered drums to be
sounded, and with his son and the new bride
marched towards his own capital. On his way
he descended the landing steps of a tank to
wash his face and hands. Mfllaiicha was filling
THE CRUEL FATHEE-IN-LAW 309
her pitcher with water at the time. She placed
two pitchers filled with water on the left of the
king, put two blades of green grass over them
and then bowed to him. The king said, " Who
are you ?" Malancha's reply :
Song.
" What a good fortune to-day ! Miserable as
I am all my life, I have seen the feet of my
father-in-law after 12 years. You are now
going to your palace. A woman's highest
heaven is her father-in-law's home. I have
been denied the good fortune of getting a place
there. Oh my father-in-law ! what consolation
have you to offer me ?"
The king exclaimed, " Here is that kotioaVs
daughter again ! I shall have nothiug to do with
her. No more, my men. Do
The case of l-uhvnVs . , i i ■ i x
daughter is out of the ^ot tarry hcrc, but proceed ; I
*i'^®®*^'°"' have got a princess for my
daughter-in-law. The case of the kotwal's
daughter is out of the question now." His
counsellors said, " 8he saved us by putting
the paksiraj in check." "What of that?"
" Your Majesty knows it is she that had set the
tigers against Dudhabaran's city."
"What of that?"
" Your Majesty, it is she to whom the
prince owes his life."
" Now listen to me, my men. If you
speak a good deal, you will die ; this will bo
310 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
my sentence. Whatever she may have done, she
is a kotwars daughter. Whoever has heard
that a heggar became a queen ? If she wants
audience, tell her to approach me in true dignity
worthy of a king's daughter-in-law in stately
conveyances."
Malancha gave water to the thirsty tigers
and borrowed money to secure state-palanquins.
She now set out in a right royal palanquin
attended by the tigers. The old tiger stood in
the king's presence and said, " She has now come
here in a way worthy of the palace, accept her
and take her with you." The king's reply was
a shower of sharp arrows. The tigers said, "How
can we, Oh Malancha, bear this ? Permit us by
a mere word, and we will eat up this army ;
we will eat up the princess — the new bride and
give you your own Chandramanik."
" Say not so, uncle ; before you eat up my
father-in-law's army, eat me, I pray.
Song.
" I will dust the path for my father-in-law
with my hair. I will go by the thorny path, but
still accompany him. Uncle
The unflinchiiig devo- ^-^g^,^ ^^^^ tigrcss, do uot take
offence, but leave me."
They, however, did not leave her. The king
went with his army by the royal road and she
SHE IS TURNED OUT 311
followed him close by the thorny path.' And the
tiger with his flock accompanied her. The king
entered the palace with the prince and the new
bride, to the sound of the drums and other music.
But she remained at the gate in grief, and the
tigers also remained there, because they would
not go away leaving her in her destitution. Por
seven days she was there. She wept and sang.
Song.
"This is my father-in-law's place — my
heaven. To me the place is sacred, for here did
I get my husband, here was J married ; this
house of my father-i i-law appears to me more
precious than a house of gold."
" I must stay here, uncle tiger, leave me
here." But the grisly uncle said, " Say even
now, we will eat up tlie king and the new bride
and restore you to your Chandramanik." " How
could you say such cruel words ? Why not eat
me up ? Even if I be here as a servant of the
cowshed in charge of the cow dung, I shall pre-
fer such a life and dwell here for ages. Uncle
and aunt, I bow down to your feet, leave me now
and go." They said, " Now what to do, she will
not in any case take our advice. Let us depart
for a time." When they went away, the king
felt greatly relieved. " She sheds tears at my
gate, what an inauspicious thing! Drive her
' As the king would not allow her to go by the main road by
which he passed, she had to choose the thorny path lying in the
jungles.
312 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
away." By the king's command, they not only
drove away Malaiicha, hut also her mother from
the palace.
The mother and the daughter wandered about
weeping. The mother said, " What is the good
of leading such a life? No more, let us drown our-
selves." And she drowned herself in a tank.
Before she had done so, Malancha wept and sang :
" Oh mother, do not die, leaving me
heli^less. I venture not to drown myself as my
hopes are unfulfilled. I am not allowed to see
my father-in-law's face, nor of Chandramanik
once before my death ! Wretched woman, as I
am, how can I die now ?"
But forlorn by all, she could not bear her
lot, and went to drown herself. But whatever
tank she chose for the purpose, she found filled
with thorny plants or Avith earth, or watched
over on four sides by guards, appointed by the
king. Malancha kncAv not if she should be
sorry or happy at this. " My father-in-law will
not permit me even to unload the burden of my
sorrow ! Let him however do as he likes. Whom
else have I in this world even to give me pain ?"
At the interval of every three hours in
the night, the drums sounded in the palace.
Malancha went to the palace at
In the nuptial room. that opportunity SO that the
sound of her footsteps was not
heard. • She advanced slowly, step by step, and
THE co-wife's prayers 313
reached the room where the prince and the new
hride lay. Slowly did she open the doors ; the
beauty of the full moon burst to her sight ! Kight
lamps burnt fed by butter, — the room was fully lit
up and bright ; on a golden couch with beddings
fringed with gold over it, slept the prince and the
bride — like two flowers of a mooa-lit night
soundly did they sleep. Malaiicha stood at the
door awhile and saw the sight ; — she came in and
saw, — she brightened the lamp and saw,— she
came near them, stood near their pilloAvs, near
their feet, and beheld them for the rest of the
night, yet her eyes did not feel a satiety, " Oh
God, did you give to such a prince the wretched
kotwaVs daughter ! " As Malancha saw the
pair, her unbraided hair fell profusely behind
her back, the flower-buds on the bed bloomed at
her breath, ber tears of gladness fell there like
pearls. The crowing of the crows indicated the
morning. jVIalaiicha rose up and from the
sacred plate took a few blades of grass and some
grains of rice, and she tore off two hairs from
her head — with these she blessed the new bride
and then put them at the feet of her husband
and sang : —
Song.
" Be happy, Oh prince, be happy. Oh princess,
" Be it so, if the prayers of a devoted woman,
are ever fulfilled.
40
814 POLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
" May the candles that are lit up here
brighten this house for generations to come and
the royal umbrella of this house may remain
unfurled for all future time !
" Oh forests, Oh trees, Oh land, Oh water,
keep guard over this house.
" May the tower of this palace ever remain
high and unconquerable.
" May the sun and the moon with their golden
rays brighten the ever glorious pinnacle of this
royal home for long ages.
" May the house of my father-in-law and the
throne of my husband be ever preserved as the
seat of power and victory in this land.
" May the princess be happy and prosperous
with her husband through long years ; I seek
this boon.
I have brought him up with great pains;
a sight like this immensely pleases me. What-
ever may befall my lot — whether I am reduced
to dust or water or transformed into a bird
or a lower animal no matter, a sight like this
will ever delight mine eyes !"
Every night Malaiicha stole into the room in
this manner. Three nights passed, and on the
fourth, Malancha was singing her song in a hum-
ming tone, but suddenly the prince awoke; he rose
up and said, " What is this ? Who are you that
sing in this way in our nuptial room?" Malancha
said in a low voice, " One who has a right to enter
here. I have disturbed your sleep, prince, pardon
SHE IS CAUGHT 316
me— do not take offence, I am a servant of this
palace. You have no reason to fear, sleep prince
as you were domg, I depart." " A servant ?
Tell me the truth, or else look here at this sword
of mine.
Song.
" A servant ? But that can never be. It
is the same face that I saw in the garden-path
of the flower-woman's house. If a servant,
why is it that through my body passes a thrill
of delight and there is an ebb and flow in my
blood ? I recollect as if I was brought up by
those tender hands of yours. You a servant?
Tell so to one who does not know you. I know
you, but tell me to-day who are you to me.''
*' Prince, through yonder window see the first
streak of dawn's light. I cannot say anything
to-day, I cannot stay." As Malancha turned her
steps Ohandramanik held her fast by the edge of
her sMi. "No, I will not allow you to go if you
do not say that." Malancha bent her head
down and said, " Prince you do me wrong."
"What?"
The guards came up there, the sentinels
hurried, the king himself came. " Who is it
that has entered the nuptial room of the prince ?
Whose footprints do we see in the path ? '* On
other days Malancha took care to wipe away her
footprints when she returned. To-day they
are detected. All came close to the nuptial
816 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAX
room. They saw a strange light, they could
not bear to look at it. The king hid his
eyes from the dazzling light with his hands
and said, "Who are you? " The prince replied,
" Pather, it is the kotioaVs daughter'." ''KotwaVs
daughter ?" The prince said,
She is turned out. ..^f, "^ , . , , i. i. j
"If she is to he treated
so, because she is IcotwaVs daughter, who
will deserve a better treatment ? " " Son, tell
her not to tread this compound any more, let
her go away by the path by which she came."
Malancha could not say what she had to say.
She went away by the path by which she had
entered.
Thus did Malancha depart from the palace.
From that time evil befell the city. The high
towers fell, the triumphal arch broke and many
disasters overtook the palace. Twelve years
passed in this way. Seven children were born to
the prince and all of them died. The king said,
" It is all the work of that witch." Seven or
eight days passed after he had said so. One day
as the king was passing by the main road, he saw
the soft flowers blooming on each side ; at every
halting station the sound of the musical pipe
sanai was heard. He looked at the tower of
his palace, it seemed to be restored to its former
condition. His seven grandchildren came back
from the regions of death and stood around
him. The king wonderingly asked, "What
THE BLESSINGS 317
is this ? " '^I'ljc prince said, "II is all the work
of the koiwaVs daughter. She can break and
rebuild."' "Ealse," exclaimed the king, "if she
could restore the dead to life, she would make
her dead parents alive again, first of all." The
king entered the court. The loiical came up
to him to his astonishment and said, " Hail Your
Majesty, the king of kings." The queen was
in her appartmcnts, the kolwaVs Avife came
up and accosted her thus, "We lived together for
many years, I have come to see you, sister."
The king said, " Tt is all very puzzling, I do not
understand what all these mean ; I must clear
up my l)rain in free air, and go a-hunting in the
forest." The king lost his way, and his atten-
• dants were devoured by tigers. He wandered
about losing? his wav, and suffered ojrcatlv from
thirst. There, b}^ the side of a tank, the water of
which was dried up, he saw a
For the first tiiiie bcautiful dauiscl with a pitcher
she hears sweet woids . , ^, , . ., .,-rn
from her father-in-hnv. HI hcr arms. The king said, "It
there is water in your pitcher,
child, will you save my life by giving me a
little?" The beautiful damsel said, "There
is milk in my pitcher, no water." "Milk?
But milk does not satisfy thirst, can't you give
me a little water ? " The damsel smiled and
gave the king sufficient water from her pitcher.
The king was very pleased and said, " Whoever
you may be, child, may you adorn your
318 FOLK LITEKATUllE OF BENGAL
father-in-law's home, and as you have made me
liappy by g'ivinf>' me drinking water, may you he
happy all your life." Her pitcher she placed on
the ground and reverentially bowed to the king's
feet and sang.
Soiifj
" T am made ha])py, oh my father-in-law, oil
my king, ha])]iy beyond what I can express. Fov-
tunate am I to-day, for the first time I have
heard sweet words from your lips. If I die
to-day I shall die in happiness, oh father, alloAv
me to touch the dust of your feet."
"Who child ? You the daughter of the lof-
loal ! Are you Malancha? " Thrice did the king
touch the ground with his hands and touch
his head again. He said, "Come now child,
come to the palace." M<ilahcha sang.
^0}ty
" This forest plain is my home now, for you
have sweetly addressed me here. This place is
heaven to me. I have got what I had wanted,
and I care not for life in the palace now. Here
on this earth, made sacred by your shoe-dust,
shall I build a cottage and live for ever."
The king's eyes 1)ecame filled with tears.
" Child, I have given you nmch pain without
knowing your virtues ; pardon me and come to
my palace." Malancha replied : —
A GRAND KECEPTION 319
Soucj
" I liavc heard yon address me sweetly in
tliis forest, how can I leave this dear forest,
father ! But T shall go, not now, but a few
days hence."
The king said, " Why should you stay here ?
The kingdom is yours, pardon me and come to
my palace." " What do you say, father, about
pardoning r It is not right for me to hear such
words from you, revered sir." She bowed at the
feet of the king and said, '* Tather, I shall go to
the palace after a few days, meantime I shall
enquire about my uncle and aunt, and about the
flower-woman Avhom also I call aunt." The kinc;
said, " Allow me then to go back. I shall mean-
while prepare roads, dig tanks and make other
prepai'ations for receiving your uncle and aunt
with their train."
The kin«^ returned to his citv. He distribut-
iveparation for re- cd his treasurc auiougst his
cention. i i i i
people, opened roads, dug
tanks and set up camps everywhere. On
both sides of the roads he placed heaps of cowries
for distribution amongst the poor, while the
roads themselves Avere reddened by vermilion.
'Jlie musical bands played, and he himself
with his seven grandsons and the citizens
w^aited at the gate to receive Mcllancha.
320 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
Meantime Malancha went to the forest, and
saw the tiger and the tigress wild witli grief for
her. She took them Avitli her. She went to tlie
cottasre of the flower-woman. She found her
beating her head against a stone for grief.
McThincha wiped away her tears Avith her own
hand. She went to the paUice of the king
Dudliabaraii. It was desohite, there was none
there to kindle the even ing-hxmp— no heir to the
vast kingdom. She wept as she saw all these.
On the night of the full moon, she tore olf a few
shreds from her own clothes and kindled eight
lamps Avith them. She kept them burning with
butter. She took her seat in the great hall in
the middle of the palace and
She restores the J-
dead to life. g^^t iu the attitude of yoga.
'J'hree days and nights passed and the doors of
the palace suddenly opened. All its inmates,
devoured by the tigers came to life. Millahcha
took with her the king Dndhabarai}, the seven
princes and the rest. She paid olf the money
she had borrowed for getting palanquins and
couches. In the way the attendants of her
father-in-law, destroyed by the tigers, Avere res-
tored to life as she sprinkled over them the oil
of the eight charmed lamps. What a great
uproar of men arose there ! When she Avas at
a distance of seven days' journey from her
father-in-law's palace, they could know that it
was Malaiicha cominjj- with her hosts.
mala^cjta's kkcepttox 821
As MalanchH appronc^hod tlH,' palace-(?Hte, tho
drums of the royal hand announced her arrival
triumphantly. It seemed as if the vei'y Avaters
of the tanks danced for joy; tlie lotuses ])loonu'd ;
the armed soldiers, sentinels and guards, the
ministers, the courtiers, in fact all the citiz(Mis,
the king and the queen themselves cried out in
exultation. For Malaficha, the true hride, had
come to her father-indaw's house.
She entered the palace, the hot wed and his
wife also came there. Dhara, Tara, Bidhata, and
other gods appeared ahove to witness this happy
event. Her parents, her father-in-law, mother-
in-law and all kinsmeu approached her. Some
placed hlades of grass over her head in order to
hless lier, others touched the dust of her feet
with reverence. Tlie whole palace was tilled with
joyous sounds. The FalsiraJ came and said to
the king, ^' Your Majesty, I have restored to life
all whom I killed during the last twelve years."
The king passed the mandate, " Beat the
royal drums in honour of Malaiichamala." The
order was instantly carried out.
Malancha came to Kanchl, the princess, and
said, " Sister, weave a Mower-garland to-day."
Kjlnchl wove a garland. Malancha took that
garland and hung it round the
inakiiis the co-wife ucck of Cliandramanik. Slic licld
queen. Kanchl to her bosom and kissed
her. Eor seven days and nights the palace was lost
4.1
322 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
in joy. '["lie poor people ate Initter and other
preparations of milk to their heart's content. The
tigers devoured the armies of those monarchs who
were enemies of our king, hut they returned to
liis capital to satisfy their thirst with water.
They were given golden couches to sleep on.
The king emhraced the kotiral calling him a
friend and l)rother, and made him a feudatory
chief. He received the tigers kindly. They
expressed high gratification at His Majesty's
hehaviour, while hidding adieu to him. The
flower-woman did not go hack to her home
hut lived in that city and made a garden
there for herself. Dudhaharan, the king, Avas
immensely happy and after a stay of a few days
there returned to his own capital.
Malailcha made Kanchi chief queen, hut the
people installed Malaficha in their hearts and
called her the goddess of the palace. Heaven
hlessed them all. All men, birds and beasts and
even insects were happy.
Then did the rays of the sun and the beams
of the moon fall on the high towers of the palace
causing them to glitter, as it wore, with gold.
The king, the prince Chandramanik and His
IMajesty's grand-children built a road decorated
with gold and precious stones leading to the spot
Avhere stood the mango-tree and the koiicaVs
house. They lived for long years and flourished.
A REVIEW
We have given here a rather long story. As
I have already said, the story as translated
seems to be but a meagre reproduction of the
original. The tenderness of the Bengali style,
used by women, its exquisite grace and sugges-
tiveness are lost in the translation, and reading
it side by side with the original, I find it dull,
uninteresting and even verging on the grotesque.
But it will not be fair to judge the original
story by this translation.
There are other stories which are replete
with amusing events and romance of love-
stories that will excite the curiosity of the
young and catch their fancy, but this story
is very singular from several points of view.
It brings forward vividly the Indian conception
of the ideal womanhood in a^ most striking
manner.
Malaiichamala is not to be classed with any
other heroine of any other Indian tale or poem.
Behula alone in our vernacular literature ap-
Malancha's idenl proachcs llCr in poiut of dcVO-
character. ^j^^^ ^^ j^^^, |^^,^| ^^^ -^^^^^ ^
family-likeness to her. But Malaiicha's virtues
are of such high order and brought out in
324 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
such a charming colour of rural simplicity and
devotion that other heroines should be placed in
more or less distance from this towering charac-
ter. Like a diamond discovered in a Golconda
coal-mine, she has been one of our richest finds,
lying ignored in the unwritten and despised
patois of this province. The heroines of our
classics no doubt are glorious for their great
sufferings and devotion, but where is one like
Malahcha who has taken the load of all possible
sorrows on her head, silently — without a word ?
Like a rose or lotus — the sport of wind — the food
of worms — the plaything of a child, exposed to
all evils imaginable, she is Heaven's gift and the
heavenly smile never fades from her lips, the
heavenly forbearance never forsakes her. She
is to be compared only to a flower ; the petals are
dried up, it smiles at death; it is worm-eaten,
or torn off by a child, but nothing will make
it divested of its loveliness and resigned spirit ;
it is a gift of Heaven to this vile earth of
ours ; you may destroy or maltreat it, but
you cannot vitiate it by your own vices ; you
cannot teach it cruelty, however cruel you
may be ; you cannot make it give up its
smile or change same into a grimace, by
frowning at it in the most terrible manner ; for it
is not of this earth . Its purity and its beauty have
come down from the land of immortal beauty,
from the shore of eternal sacredness ; like
INDIFFERENCE TO BODY 325
the stream of the Ganges, it cannot be soiled by
earth's dust.
In the first place, an absolute indifference
to body, its comforts and the ills to which it
may be subjected, forms the main feature of
Malaiicha's action. It is the spirit that needs be
nourished ; that which is destined to perish or
decay need not be a matter of vital importance
to us in deciding our course ; body is the vehicle
and instrument to our spirit, so far its value ;
but the good of the soul should be the primary
object in view while deciding our course of
action. Christ has commanded us to take off
the unrighteous eye to save the soul. If neces-
sary this body of ours may be sacrificed or allow-
ed to be put to any torment for the sake of keep-
ing our virtues intact. When Malanchamala
is about to be married, she states certain condi-
tions. These conditions are necessary for the pre-
servation of her self-respect, for keeping up the
dignity of her parents raised to a new status in
life, for being able to do her
She cares not for i •- 'p • ii i ,
the body. duties as wiie m the palace to
the fullest extent. But if like
the average woman she would feel elated and
glorified simply because a prince happened to
marry her, without caring for the honour and
responsibility attached to her status, she w^ould
sink into a very common level indeed ! The king
chose her as bride for the prince ; he must
826 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
give her all the dignity, all the love and all the
honour attached to this high place ; she would
not put up with any thing short of it. She
claimed this not as a matter of favour or condes-
cension but of right; she was conscious of the
spirit of contempt prevailing in the court against
her owing to her humble birth, for she was merely
a kotiDciVs daughter ; she would not brook that.
And what a trial ! Her eyes were taken out. She
still insisted on the fulfilment of the conditions ;
her beautiful hands were cut off, but she insisted
on, as if nothing had happened. This absolute
indifference to body and heroic devotion to truth
rank her as a martyr of the first ordeY. This
ideal womanhood is no unrealised dream in this
country. Times without number instances have
occurred in our history showing such firm recti-
tude and devotion in the fair sex. Sir F. Halliday,
afterwards Lieutenant-Governor of this pro-
vince, argued with a satl prepared for self-
immolation on the funeral pyre of her husband,
but failing in his attempts to dissuade her by
arguments at last said, " You have no idea of
what your sufferings will be." The woman who
was young and beautiful smiled and ordered a
lamp to be brought near her. To this she put
her finger. Writes Sir E. Halliday, "The
finger scorched, blistered and blackened and
finally twisted up in a way Avhich I can only
compare to what I have seen happen to a
THE TEMPTATIONS 327
quill in the name of a candio. During this time
she never moved her hand, nor uttered a cry or
altered the expression of her countenance. "
This happened quite in recent times. The heroine
of a fiction in the Buddhistic period is verily a
cousin of this historic woman who lived in our
Grangetic valley in the 19th century.
Then in the dark night when the very horses
of the stall run mad and the gohlins are
at their wildest play and the
The trial. ^ "^
city-gates are shut and the
funeral pyres spread their smoke and gloom all
around, she defies that spirit of evil — that great
tempter who not only tried to lead astray and
take a Buddha and a Christ to infernal regions,
but in less pronounced forms appears to us in
our little struggles for attaining a moral life
every now and then. But see how she triumph-
antly sits with her baby husband surrounded by
the invisible that had taken grim visible shapes,
amidst all fears fearless, — amidst all horrors
undaunted. The temptations and horrors that
came to shake her resolve failed and passed away
like gusts of wind dashing in vain against a lofty
peak. The full beauty and blossom of the ideal
of the Buddhistic renunciation, of undaunted
heroism is here. The miraculous and the super-
natural serve only to bring out and accentuate
the triumphant conquest of the soul over
material forces, however great these maybe. It
S28 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
is like the skldhi or reaching of the final goal of
a yogi as we find in Tantrikisni. In the north
the funeral around is still the resort of manv an
aspirant in the path of skldhi, of soul's strenu-
ous struggling at any cost for a conquest over
the flesh. The temptations, the appeals and the
horrors are symbolical of the farewell-shot of
animal passions on the eve of the soul rising
above them. The attainment of the nirvana of
the Buddha is said to have been preceded
by a visitation from the evil spirits, and
since then it has been a common occurrence
in the history of a Tfmtrik's highest spiritual
achievements. Malanchamala and Behula are
the two characters, described in our folk-
literature, as facing such trials and triumphing
over them.
This material form in which our soul is (m-
shrined is but the result of our longings to come
in contact with tlie outer world. Intense desire
to attain a thing and unsparing labour bring
the remotest, the highest thing
one o-e^tlr"^ ^^^^ °^ witliiu tlic liollow of our palms.
The animal that wants to
escape from its pursuers, who Avill give it no rest
till they kill it, longing with whole soul to go
beyond their reach, gets wings and flies up. The
small fish gets the power to go against the tide
which an elephant cannot. I say all this power
grows by longings and will-force in quite a
THE CHILD NEWLY BORN 329
miraculous Avay. Malaficlia loses her eyes and
her liancls ; but as she strongly wishes to have a
sight of her husband, the eyes grow — ready to
serve him, the hands groAv. In the case of such
a soul, to whom the body is the mere vehicle of
a strong will, the workings of the unseen forces
of nature are most strikingly observed. The
esoteric law is here explained without a spirit
of propagandism and though it is all but a fic-
tion, it grapples with the problem of and illus-
trates the hidden strength of the soul in the most
convincing manner.
Then the child is newly born. You have
heard that Sanskrit sloka which says that a true
wife is also a mother. She is a sister and a
friend as well. Here as in
Wire as mother.
nowhere else in the world's
literature do Ave find wife in the capacity of
mother. Yes the child is born to her, it was
stone dead ; it is motherly love that has given
birth to it ; it is reborn in the lap of Malaiicha-
mala, not born of the flesh, as an ordinary child
is born, but born of love, of spirit ; it is therefore
a truer child than an ordinary one.
We pursue Malancha in the capacity of
mother ; but she has the background of a love
greater than that of a mother — it is wife's ;
gradually it comes to the front. With the growth
of the feelings of the wife she retires from her
habitual field of action and the flower-woman
42
330 FOLK LITERATURE Of BENGAL
becomes the instrument through whom she
renders her service, — ^herself remaining behind
the screen satisfied like a devotee with " sight " —
' darsana ' — which is the highest bliss in the
spiritual world.
Throughout this story there is no agency but
the human, though in the beginning mention is
made of some local gods. These are, however,
mere recorders of fortune proving the inscrutable
ways of Providence and seem to possess no
independent power. The characters solve their
own destinies by their harma and this is again
a Buddhistic idea. Towards
The Buddhist ideas.
the end of the story Malaiicha
would not enter the palace for a few days; she
thus keeps in abeyance the realisation of the
cherished dream of her life for one purpose.
Not to taste any joy herself, until and unless
the sorrows and wrongs of all the people with
whom she came in contact or whom she knew,
were fully remedied. This renunciation is again
a purely Buddhistic idea ; not to save oneself
till the whole world is saved was the motto of
the Mahayana Buddhists of those days.
The true wife in the Hindu society is one
who is not only loyal to her husband, but is good
to all the members of her husband's family,
discharging her duties in the fullest manner to
each. It is for this that we see Malancha so
eager to have her due place in her father-in-law's
THE father-in-law's HOME 331
home. There she wanted to hind all hy ties
Why she prizes her «*' affectioii, to reiiiove all
father-in-law's home. jealousv aiicl petty qiiaiTels by
her self-denial and to create an atmosphere of
purity, peace and renunciation by her example.
The true wife is to give herself away to all ;
the husband is of course the god whom she
secretly worships in her soul, but she does uot
make a display of her devotion to him ; it
remains, however, as the secret spring of her love
which makes the Avhole family her o?vu in every
sense of the word. The husband's house is thus
her highest temple. In the attitude of one Avho
comes to a shrine she approaches it as a bride ; if
she can discharge her duties in a way which will
win for her a good name there, is she then and then
only called a good wife, but not if she merely
becomes her husband's darling. It is for this
reason that Malancha prizes her father-in-law's
home ; it is the sanctuary in which she is to
develop her virtues by service and self-dedication.
This was the old idea. When all these are
merely recited by the priests and blindly follow-
ed or imposed on by the mother-in-law or some
other elderly woman with a rod in hand, it
becomes devoid of all beauty. But when a spirit
Self-dedication natn- ^f SClf -dcdicatioU bloomS forth
rai to Mauxncha. ^f j^-g^jf without any extcmal
agency to help an artificial growth, it shows
itself beautiful as the lilv in an Indian tank.
332 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
Malaiicha's womanly virtues are thus shown in
the most attractive manner. No priest ever told
her what she should do, and what she should not
do. The love she felt for her baby-husband was
more than motherly at the outset but with this
difference that she knew from the beginning
that the child would grow in ti me and occupy
his proper place in regard to her. "When he
grew to be five years old, she avoided his
presence lest he called her mother which would
be his first instinctive address — naturally oppro-
brious to Avife. The fountain of all her action
was of course profound love that pervaded her
whole life. It was no animal passion. The
She wants no reci- "^^re sight of the beloVcd, tO SCC
procation. ^avo. happy in all conditions
even in the arms of her co-wife, was the hio^hest
recompense of this love ; for she did not want
reciprocation but merely the good of the object
of his worship. The jealousies of an ordinary
woman could not be in her. When the Faksiraj
came back without her husband on its back, she
was mad with grief ; but when she learnt that
he had married the princess, — that husband whom
she had brought up as no mother could do,
whom she had saved from the gaping mouths of
the evil spirits and animals, for whom her eyes
were taken out and hands cut off and her father
beheaded, for whom in fact she had suffered
as few martyrs ever did — that husband was
LOVE TO ALL ' 3^3
happy in the palace in the arms oC the princess,
she stood silent for a time hut did not weep.
She told the tiger that she was '' fortunate " for
the mission of her life was fulfilled, her husband
was made happy and there was no more any
need of her existence ; she said touchingly to her-
self, " HoAV happy is the prince now with the
princess ! how happy shall I be to die in the
blue waters of our beautiful tank ! "
She never resisted evil but bore all patiently.
She gave love to those who were hostile towards
her, like the tree that gives its flowers and fruits
to one who cuts it with axe ; bv
She does not resist *
evil. her nature she was good ;md
could not be otherwise. When evil came she
tried her very best to ward it oft* from her beloved
by her own great sufferings and by^all that she
had in her power to do. She did not lament
like an ordinary woman, nor vehemently protest-
ed against her oppressors however autocratic
and cruel they might be, but Christ-like bore
all ills without complaint, sparing no pains to
protect her great trust — the life of her child-
husband from all kinds of danger. Whenever an
Doing duty, heedless occasiou camc shc was always
of the result. ^^p witli licr grcatcst resources
of energy, never appealed to God whom she did
not see, but depended to the fullest extent on
her own karma which, is a reality with every one.
In doing what she thought to be her duty, she
334 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
was not to be daunted by any circumstances, for
she cared not the ills to which body is subject.
When the boy was five years old and required to
be placed under a tutor, she did not care a bit
as to what might happen to her, but left the
protection of her " uncle and aunt " under
which she was happy and a])ove anxiety for a
long time. A solitary wayfarer with the baby
in her arm she wandered, without knowing
where to go and would not rest till she found a
suitable place from which she could give edu-
cation to the child, for he was a prince and must
have due training. Almost mute, brief in her
speech when she cared to speak, she offers a
striking contrast to some of the heroines of our
modern romances, whose enthusiastic speeches,
like the babbling ripples on the surface of shal-
low Avaters often indicate a lack of depth. Our
Maiancha speaks but Bengali writcrs of romauccs
^^"^®- may take a lesson from these
tales ; the heroines here seldom speak out their
love. The tree offers flowers and fruits without
words, the sun its rays without words and He that
is behind this nature and supplies rain, sunshine,
moon-beams and a thousand other things to us
out of His infinite love, speaks not except to the
mystic sonl. True love works and sacrifices,
but does not spend itself in frothy words. The
mother seldom speaks of her love for the child ;
Malancha speaks but little. But when for the
SACRIFICES OF INDIAN AVOMEN 335
lirst time in her life, her father-in-law speaks to
her kind words in a spirit of repentance, she melts
into tears and tells him, " Why should I go to the
palace ? This forest is far dearer, for have
you not spoken here sweet words to me !"
She is indifferent to material comforts so
what is a palace or a mansion to her ? Where
her spirit finds a congenial thing she values that,
and thus a piece of wood-land is elevated in her
eyes to a shrine because she has got there what
her soul wanted. The prayer she offers in her
sons? in the nuptial chamber
She prefers a wood- "- ^
land to a palace. of licr husbaud, slccplng in the
arms of Kanclii, is a unique one, and shows her
to be in a far higher plane than Enoch A.rden of
Tennyson. In these days all weaknesses of the
body and all lower passions in men are some-
times valued in literature as giving human inter-
est to it. But all human beings are not in the
same level of existence. Here in this land
women have always evinced a high spirit of
sacrifice at the altar of domestic love, and
their self-immolation on the funeral pyre of
their husbands and practice of austere Brahma-
charya, have evoked wonder of all unprejudiced
minds. In this country Malaiichamala is no
day-dream of poets, no dealistic or unrealisable
mental phantom "without human interest,"simply
because the human being in this case happens
to possess a super-human strength of soul.
336 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
Though Malanchamala, like many heroines
in Indian literature lacks in
The poetic situations.
professions of love, yet the
romantic situations of the dawn of love are not
wanting in this very interesting tale. She /does
not come hefore her child-husband but keeps
gazing at him as he reads or sits to eat. When
the flower-woman Avould by no means come to
the fiery horse, and Malancha was obliged to
come before him after long years, the delicacy
of the situation makes her modest grace
at this interview cbarmiogly beautiful ; large
drops of sweat stood on her brow indicating
her confusion, and she touched the feet of her
husband on the pretext of dusting his shoes. I
do not know if my foreign readers will realise
the true import of this situation. To a Hindu
wife nothing can be a more pleasing privilege
than to touch the feet of her husband. In the
present case she did it with a confused sense of
delicacy and ardour of her warm soul, w^hich is ex-
ceedingly woman-like according to oriental con-
ception of modesty. Then for the first time after
many years she glanced at his face and met him
eye to eye ; she could have avoided doing so, but
her great control of self yielded a little for a
moment, she had not the heart to give up this
opportunity, for he was going to win a game and
might not return ; when he asked her who
she was, — she could not say, " I am vour
THE STOLEX VISIT 337
wife " ; feminine delicacy choked Lcr voice
and in half audible -whispers she could raerelv
say, "T am kotwaVs daughter." On another
occasion in the nip:ht she had entered the room
of lier husband and found him with his new con-
sort. Both were sleeping ; he suddenly aAvoke
and asked Malancha, " AVho are you to enter this
room ? " In great mental confusion she only
briefly said, '"' One that can enter. " This was
her whole speech. The words were true foi*
as wife she had every right to enter the room of
her husband ; then when the prince caught her
by the edge of her sari, she bent down her head
and said Avith down-cast eyes, " Prince, you do
me wrong." The pictures are all delicately
wrought, and nowhere is the veil of shyness which
forms the true fascination of a woman's nature
withdrawn. The fine shades of a true woman's
heart, her mental psychology which silently
offers service and devotion, and proves without
words, that she can sacrifice every inch of
herself for the beloved one, are traced in the
most siornificant manner in this unassumino;
Bengali tale. Malancha's all-pervading love
is ever employed in doing good to all, not
merely those to Avhom she was personally
indebted. When she was going to return to
her husband's home, she restored the dead to
life by the great esoteric power that had grown
in her by her conquest over the flesh. So that
43
388 FOLK LITERATURE OE BENGAL
none was miserable, none was unhappy. The
. , , wicked are not punished but
Trie wicked are not ■*•
punished but re- reformed bv love, provinsj its
formed. ^ . ^
marvellous power of doing good
in the human world, and surely this is a
higher view of an esthetic situation in ethical
planes.
. She returns to the palace after many years,
not to enjoy material comforts and what is
strange not even to be \\\ the arms of her hus-
band. What other poets or dramatists would
not make the husband and wife restored to each
other's embrace after so much sufferings ? Kan-
chi's career might have closed
The " chief queen '' ' ,^ Ji e i i*
and the " jcoddess.' HI i\\e mouths of huugry tigers
or in some other tragic Avay
suggested by the fruitful brain of an author,
in order to make the path clear for Malancha.
But wo find in this tale " Malancha made
Kanchi chie' queen." She Avillingly and
gladly offered her own place to the co-wife.
"But the people worshipped her as their
goddess." Thus does indeed the heroine of
the tale rise to the level of a true goddess
that she Avas — a conqueror of the flesh ; she Avho
could break all her teeth in order to break a few
links of the chain by w^hich her husband was
bound, was not a character to be won by the
thought of the pleasures of the flesh. She was
a thing dedicated and offered to love, from which
EPISODES OF Sacrifices 339
all elements of the llesh were completely
removed.
The story is like an epic poem in Bengali with
many exquisite lyrical notes, and the language is
so forcible, brief and colloquial,
The tninslatoi's j i j • i • i ' n c
apologies. that it IS uot in the power oi any
Bengali writer to change a word,
without marring its naive simplicity and effect.
Unfortunately, as I have already stated, this story
will have an exotic air in my translation ; it will
appear like a Bengali lady, who looked so lovely
in her sa^i, putting on a gow^n and having an
outlandish air ; hut this could not he helped.
The Aveaviiig of the plot shows considerable
art. Malaficha is of course the
central tigure who connects the
different episodes of the story and keeps up its
continued interest. When the baby dies, the story
might naturally end there, but we have a need
of her for bringing it back to life. The natural
end of the story is thus put oft' till the prince
marries Kanchi. Here asjain the storv would
end, but he is put into the prison and there we
have again a need of Malancha's help to set the
prince free. Malaiicha does it and the king
returns with the prince and the new bride to
the palace and dismisses poor Malaiicha. The
story would naturally end here. But now comes
the moral need of showing that a devotee's
labour has not gone for naught. ^Malaiicha is
340 FOLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
a true bride. She must enter the house to
light the bridal lamp. After all that she has
suffered and done, an ordinary reception will
not do. The whole city, not to speak of the
palace alone, should give the most cordial re-
ception to the true bride by erecting triumphal
arches and beating the royal drums in her honour.
All the ceremonies that a devotee performs in
the temples should be celebrated in honour of
one who has proved by her action, too many to
enumerate, that she is not an ordinary type of
human being but a goddess. Any reception
short of what was given her in the last part
of the story would have been unworthy of
her. Her reception has been late, but the author
deferred it a long time only to make it fitting
in the fullest measure, in order to pave her
path to the palace by repentant tears, and
wreath the garland of welcome by the over-
flowing joy of all the citizens who rejoiced on
the return of one who had brought the dead
to life again.
The whole story is thus threaded l)y the
episodes of sacrifices for love on Malaficha's part
and at the end takes us by surprise by the
statement that she did not return to the
palace to share the joys of nuptial life with
her co-wife, but show her greatest renunciation
by inaugurating the rival as chief queen in
her place.
A CONTRAST
341
These tales have an old ^yo^ld charm which is
irresistible to all of us. The
r.'^FL™"/^™""' revival of Pauranic religion has
introduced a spirit of faith, and
of devotion of a metaphysical type. But these
tales disclose a beauty all of their own in which
propagandism finds no place. Woman's fidelity
is shown in its truest colour ; men are righteous,
good and amiable ; but they have no stereotyped
models put before them by the priests ; the
characters are rewarded or punished for their
action, but there is scarcely any reference to the
scriptures, nor are analogies sought to be estab-
lished between them and those described in the
Puranas. All these marks out the epoch of
literature which produced the tales as a very
unique one ; it has some very
J;SL^S^h: distinctive features of its own,
complicated model of characterised by literary excel-
Renaissancc. '' *'
lence of a quite different charac-
ter than is to be found in the literature of the
Renaissance. The lovers swear, not by any gods
or goddesses, but by the earth, "Because it is
sacred where the flowers bloom." When a
princess takes the kotwaVs son to task for
making a proposal of marriage, and says, " How
bold must you be to approach me in this way I
I will bring this to the notice of the king. How
could you be so daring?" "If the king takes
me to task," replied the koticaVs son boldly,
S42 FOLK Lll'ERATtJRE OF BENGAL
" here is my answer ; my ancestors have shed
their blood for generations to make Your
Majesty's line of kings— this is my claim." No,
question of caste or social status which would
have been inevitable in the days of the Renais-
sance was raised. When the princess was
convinced that it was her duty to marry the
kotwaVs son because her parents had already
pledged their words, the preceptor marked a
change in her demeanour. On other days the
cymbals sounded on her feet merrily as she
entered the school room, to-day no sound of
her steps was heard, so quietly did she enter
the room with down-cast eyes, "and the
sweet voice of hers in recitation did not charm
everyone in the class room as was usual, but
the voice trembled and its sweetness was gone,
it sounded like a drv lo2,\" There is a rural
method of expressing ordinary ideas which has
also a special appeal for us " From a thousand
eyes the gods stole sleep and put it in the eyes
of the princess " is meant to show that the
sleeping princess was absolutely unaware of the
danger that awaited her. In order to indicate
the resolute muteness of a woman, we have this
metaphor *' like the sleeping night slie says
nothing, nor moves."
The w\ay in which these rural people used
The w«T of reckon- to reckou time, when there
jngtime. y^,.^^ j^^ w^atch or clock to
THE RUKAL ELEMENT 348
giiifle them iis interesting. In one place we
iind the followini? '" the day advanced, the.
peacock and lier mate dropped Feathers from
their plumed tail; the In'rds snka and sa7'i
flunir off the dust from their win^s as thev
hathed in the muddy pools." By these little
things the country people i^ave an exact idea ot
time ; tor the birds did as described, at particular
and specified points of time recorded in the daily
observations of the men who live in villa*:^es.
In another ])lace we find " before twilight had
passed and the crows had crowed their last note
indicating departure into the nests." These
softly lift the veil from nature, disclosing to the
observer how she gives response to each hour
that passes, in a way far more interesting than
by the dull 'hand of a clock.
The manner in which the rural people indi-
cated their condemnation and honest disparage-
ment of a wicked deed is sometimes very curiously
expressed. The ilowerwoman
wicked dTe"fs.'°" ° ^^ ^^^ story of Kafichanniala
Avants to drive away the
princess from her husband's home and get her
own niece married to him. This wicked motive
is frustrated in this way.
"If the flower-woman engages any house-wife
to take part in the marriage of her niece, within
three days the red mark of luck disappears from
that wife's forehead (she becomes a widow). The
34i POLK LITERATURE OF BENGAL
Brahmin whom she appoints to perform the
marriasje function finds his cowshed void
of cows and his scliool void of j^upils. So no
Brahmin would open his almanac to fix the
auspicious day and no house-wife take part in the
ceremony. The ilower-woman goes to the oil-
man for oil and to the i^rocer for turraeriCj the
oil-man's bullock dies and the grocer loses his
bargain. The flowers drop from the bride's
crown and the lamps cease to burn on the sacred
plate."
These are no doul^t foolish, Imt imagine the
o-lee and mirth with wliieli children listened to this
account of the wicked witch's disappointment.
There may beniany things said that are foolish ; the
child says many such things and listens to many
such things from his grandmother, but is not the
heart of true poetry there ? Sometimes a situa-
tion is made romantically poetic
Romance. ^^^ ^ ^^^^^ ^^^^^j^ . j ^^ ^^^ ^^^^
if the foreign readers of our folk-tales w ill appre-
ciate the simple poetry in these few lines.
"She came and bowed down before her
husband. He saw this spot near his feet reddened
with the vermilion of her forehead,"
Index.
Abolas ... ... ... ... ... 229
Acharyas ... ... ... ... ... 61
Ada Nasa ... ... ,.. ... ... 165
^esop ... ... ... ... ... 44
Aetes ... ... ... ... ... 29
Afazuddin Ahmed ... ... ... 169,170,171
Agartala ... ... ... ... ... 146
Aga Bakhar ... ... ... ... ... 148
Agamani ... ... ... ... ... 84
A:zuddin Munshi ... ... ... ... 158
Alaka ... ... ... ... ... 153
Alam ... ... ... ... ... 160, 161
Alanaschar ... ... ... ... ... 48
Algebra ... ... ... ... ... 80
All Akbar ... ... ... ... ... 130, 134
Alivardi Khan ... ... ... ... 148
Allah ... ... ... ... ... 101, 102,
Amin ... ... ... .. ... 106
Amrita bhana ... ... ... ... 97
Apai ... ... ... ... ... 34
Arabia ... ... ... ... ... 43
Arabian ... ... ... ... ... 43
Arabian Nights ... ... ... .,. 5, 14
Arabic ... 3, 51, 43, 48, 97, 99, 101, 102, 124, 134, 160, 195, 234
Arabs ... ... ... ... ... 4, 6
Ariadne ... ... ... ... ... 2
Arif ... ... ... ... ... 100
Ax'juna ... ... ... ... ... 55
Arthurian ... ... ... ... ... 50, 53, 59
Arthur ... ... ... ... ... 50
Aryavarta ... ... ... ... ... 49
Asia ... ... ... ... ... 7
Asiatic ... ... ... ... ... 28, 43
346 INDEX
Page.
Atlantic ... ... ... ... ... 2, 5. 6
Atlas ... ... ... ... ... 9
Aya Bene ... ... ... ... ... 67
Baburam Bhandari ... ... ... ... 151
.Babylon ... ... ... ... ... 65
Backergunge ... ... ... ... ... 1.51
Badarjanda ... ... ... ... ... 115, 116
Bali Uttarpara ... ... ... ... 89
Balor ... ... ... ... ... 19
Baltic ... ... ... ... ... 6, 43, 50
Baluka Sagar... ... ... ... ... 91
Banga ... ... ... ... ... 42
Bangabhasha-o-Sahitya ... ... ... ... 17
Baukis ... ... ... ... ... 3
Banspara ... ... ... ... ... 141
Bayis joan ... ... ... ... ... 41
Behram Gor ... ... ... ... ... 6
Behest ... ... .. ... ... 131
Behnla ... ... ... ... ... 328
Bejan Shahar... ... ... ... ... 30
Benares ... ... ... ... ... 153
Bengal ... 5,7,10,14,26,28,42,44,46,49,50,52,54,56,61,64,
68, 7a, 73, 77, 81, 82, 85, 86, 88, 94, 97, 99, 113, 123,
124, 151, 152, 155, 156, 160, 192, 193, 225, 260, 262,
249, 286, 323
Bengali ... 7,13,18,28,40,21,17,35,44,45,53,57,58,59,63,67,
84, 92, 94, 9.5, 100, 155, 162, 189, 223, 229, 260, 262.
249, 286, 323
Bengali Literature ... ... ... ... 49, 57
Bengali Muhammadans ... ... ... ... 84
Bhaduli ... ... ... .. ... 249,250
Bhagavata ... ... ... ... ... 54
Bhakti cult ... ... ... ... ... 54
BhSnumati ... ... ... ... ... 97
Bharat ... ... ... ... ... 52
Bharatchandra ... ... ... ... 100
Bhasmalochana ... ... ... ... 18, 17
Bhatas ... ... ... ... ... 151, 152
INDEX 347
Page.
Bhavilni ... ... ... ... ... 66
Rhikkus ... ... ... ... ... 81
Bhikkunis ... ... ... ... ... 81
Bhim ... ... ... ... ... 25
Bhuia ... ... ... ... ... 185
Bibhisama ... ... ... ... ... 18
Bihangama ... ... ... ... 10, 11,12,13,14,27
Bihamgami ... ... ... ... 11,12,13,14,27
Bimala ... ... ... ... ... 191, 192
Bosching's Volks-Sagen ... ... ... ... 49
Brahma ... ... ... ... ... 18, 19
Brahmin ... 29,31,32,33,51,62,60,76,91,95,121,145,181,
225, 227, 274, 344, 273
Brata ... ... ... ... ... 252
Bramhacharya ... ... ... ... 335
British ... ... ... ... ... 50,59
Brobdingnag ... ... ... ... ... 238
Brothers Grimm ... ... ... 8, 20. 24, 25; 28, 194
Buarainoch ... ... ... ... ... 19
Buddha ... ... ... ... ... 328
Buddhism ... ... ... ... 42,54,81,83,153
Buddhist ... 44,46,61,63,81,82,83,84,86,87,88,93,94,96,97,
99, 160, 161, 157
.Caer ... ... ... ... ... 235
Calmuck .. ... ... ... ... 291
^amkhamala ... ... ... 45,59,64,67,75,117,133,134
^ankharaj ... ... ... ... ... 67
(jjankhini ... ... ... ... ... 132
Canta ... ... ... ... ... 175, 177
Caridwen ... ... ... ... ... 15
Chagalmuri ... ... ... ... ... 142
Chakla Roshonabad ... ... ... ... 143
Champa ... ... ... ... ... 200,49,42
Champaka ... ... ... ... 297
Chamdala ... ... ... ... ... 92
Chandana ... ... 210, 211, 212, 213. 214, 215, 216, 218, 223
225, 226, 227 228, 230
348 INDEX
Page.
Chandi ... ... ... ... 90, 91, 153, 207, 208
Chandra .. ... ... ... ... 148
Chandbibi ... ... ... ... ... 102
Chandra Bhan .. ... ... ... 162
Chandrahasa ... ... ... ... 21, 221
Chandramanik ... 288, 289, 292, 293, 294, 295, 296, 298, 299,
800, 301, 304, 305, 307, 310, 311, 312
315, 321, 322
Chandannagar ... ... ... 103,104,109,108,110
Chandravali ... ... ... ... 97, 156, 234, 57
Chaturdolas ... .., ... ... ... 70, 71
Chaudhurir Larayi ... ... ... ... 135
Cherry ... ... ... ... ... 49
Chimaira ... ... ... ... ... 2
Chinese ... ... ... ... ... 189
Chinta ... ... ... ... ... 17, 18
Chittagong ... ... ... ... ... 148, 149
Chitraratha ... ... ... ... ... 174
Christ ... ... ... .., ... 325, 327
Christian ... ... ... ... 13,14,30,193,
9ita Bashanta ... 24, 156, 165, 167, 168, 169, 170, 171, 173, 179,
180, 181, 182, 183, 134, 185, 186, 187, 188,
189, 191, 193
9itala ... ... ... ... ... 91
9iva ... ... ... 90,153,159,216,251,252
9ivadut ... ... ... .. ... 60
Copernicus ... ... ... ... ... 254
^rivatsa ... ... ... ... ... 17
9rngi ... ... ... ... ... 174
Crnsade ... ... ... ... ... 7
^ukapanikhis ... ... ... ... 65
9unyapuran ... ... ... 86,90,161,251
Cupid ... ... ... ... ... 220
Cuttack ... ... ... ... ... 206
Dacca Muslin ... ... ... ... 6,42,50
DSkinis ... ... ... ... ... 89
Daksin ... ... ... ... ... 138, 137
INDEX 349
Pago.
Daniel ... ... ... ... ... 227
Dantapur ... ... ... ... 219
Darsana ... ... ... ... ... 330
Dasaratha ... ... ... ... 204, 223
Datan ... ... ... ... ... 219
Death ... ... ... ... ... 60
Delhi ... ... ... ... ... 136, 146
Demon of Eclipse ... ... ... ... ... 274
Demon of fever ... ... ... ... ... 93
Der Getrene Johannes ... ... ... ... 13
Dhale9wari ... ... ... ... ... 13
Dhamma ... ... ... ... ... iVo
Dhara ... ... 60, 270, 271, 272, 273, 274, 321
Dharma-mangala ... ... ... ... 30, 89, 92, 161
Diancecht ... ... ... ... ... 233
Dhouma ... ... ... ... •• 192
Dhrnba ... ... .. ... 54, 1553
Dravidians ... ... ... ... ... 247
Dryden ... , . . ... ... ... 70
Dudhabarana ... ... 297, 302, 305, 306, 307, 308, 320, 321
Dudh Bibi ... ... ... ... 113,114,122
Dukhn ... ... ... ... 35,36,37
Dulaldhan ... ... ... ... ... 68
Dunn ... ... ... ... ... 48
Duorani ... ... ... ... 188,182,183
Durga ... ... ... ... ... 66
Durlata ... ... ... ... ... 175
Eastern ... ... ... ... 50, 51
Eastern Bengal ... ... ... ... 261,262
Edda ... ... ... ... ... 235
Egyptian ... ... ... ... ... 265
Ekalavya ... ... ... ■•• ... 153
England ... ... ... ... 40, 44
English ... ... ... ... ... 6,50
Enoch Arden ... ... ... ... ... 335
Epics ... ... .•• ... • •• 155
350 INDEX
Page.
Europe ... ... ... 2,4,5,6,7,13,42,49,51
European ... ... 6, 7, 8, 13, 28, 41, 42, 65, 234
Evans ... ... ... ... ... 251
Fairy ... ... ... ... ... 63
Fakirs ... ... ... ... ... 93
FaithfulJohn ... ... ... ...8,10,13,14,28
Fakirchand ... ... ... ... ... 8
Fakir Ram Kabibhsbana 6, 41, 100, 101, 202, 219, 223, 224, 226, 266
Fathema Bibi ... ... ... ... ... 125
Feni ... ... ... ... ..'. ... 146
Firdausi ... ... ... ... ... 6
Frog-bride .. ... ... ... ... 49
G
Gabriel ... ... ... ... .. 114
Gabu Chandra ... ... ... ... ... 240
Gadura ... ... ... ... 90, 237
Gaeles ... ... ... ... ... 19
Gallic ... ... ... ... 16,233
Gandharva ... ... ... ... ... 191
Gane^a ... ... ... ... ... 92
Ganges ... ... ... ... 47,51,159,233
Gangetic Valley ... ... ... ... 7, 49, 195
Garauhata Bengal RoyJPress ... ... ... ... 102
Garetli ... ... ... ... ... 205
Gasta Bene ... ... ... ... ... 67
Ganl ... ... ... ... ... 232
Gaur ... ... ... ... ... 49
Gauri ... ... ... ... 257,259
Gaza ... ... ... ... ... 113
Gazi ... 137. 138, 139, 140, 141, 142, 143, 144, 146, 148, 149, 150
Geliad ... .. ... ... ... 234
Ghatak ... ... ... ... _ 70
Ghnmanta-puri ... ... ... ... ._ 30
Gita-Kathas ... ... ... ... 47 261
Goalas ... ... ... ... 118, 122
Goda Yama ... ... ... ... 14,15,60
GodaHossain Khondakar ... ... , ... ... 139
INDEX 351
Page.
Goddess of Harvest ... ... ... ... 8.5
Golam Kader ... ... ... ... 24,41,156,165
Golkonda ... ... ... ... ... 324
Gorgon Medusa ... ... ... ... ... 2
Greek ... ... ... ... ... 48
Grimm's collection ... ... ... ...34, 40
Grimm's Popular Stories ... ... 2, 3, 14, 21, 3.5,43
Gujrat ... ... ... ... ... 7
Guptas ... ... ... ... ... 48
Guru ... ... ... ... ... 228
Gwin Bach ... ... ... .. ... 15
Gy psies ... ... ... ... ... 6
Habu Chandra ... ... ... . . , ... 240
Hadi ... ... ... ... ... ... 90,91
Hadisidhya ... ... ... ... 91,233
Hanif ... ... 124, 125, 127, 128, 129, 130, 131, 132, 133, 134, 135
Hans ... ... ... ... ... ... 23
Hanumana ... ... ... ... ....55,90
Harilila .. ... ... ... ... 100
Harinath Majiimdar ... ... 41,173,191,193,265
Harischandra ... ... ... ... ... 153
Harmoo ... ... ... ... ... 34
Hartz ... ... ... ... ... ... 43
Hastini ... ... ... ... ... 85
Haliday ... ... ... ... ... 326
Hebrew ... ... ... ... ... 48
Hengist ... ... ... ... ... 44
Heiakles ... ... ... ••■ ... 2
Herbert ... ... ... ... ... 40
Hesperides ... ... ... ... ... 2,16
Hindu Guru Mahacayas ... ... ... ••• 88
Hindu Renaissance ... 54,56,61,66,67,69,82,95,203,225
Hindu Tantras ... ... ... .• .•• 89
Hinduism ... ... ... ... 69, 83
Hindustan ... ... ... ... ••• 146
Himalayan ... ... ... .. ••• 152
Hinglat ... ... ... ••■ ■•■ 206
Hira ... ... ... 114, 122, 207, 208
352
INDEX
Hiramanik
Hiraraja
Hitopode9a
Homeopathic
Hooghly
Horsa
Hungary
Hushen Shah
Hycophric
Page.
6
... 67
3, 5, 44
... 84
103, 104
44
6
100,103
40
Imam Hosen Abdul Mokaka
Indil
India
India the Great
India the Lesser
Indian
Indian Literature ...
Indra Mandal
Indra Sabha
Iranian
Islam
Islamite
• •• 48
... 30
42,43,52
... 50
... 50
6,42,43,49,51,59,62,65,73
... 336
... 192
... 96
... 84
81, 82, 84, 86, 88, 90, 94, 95, 98, 124, 128, 131, t34
... 93, 95, 123, 135
Jack
Jugdia
Jagat Manikya
Jagat Chandra
Jalayoga
Jamini Bhan
Janmejaya
Jarasura
Jason
Jataka
Jata 9ankara
Jaya
Jayasen
40, 235
... 146
... 138
... 162
... 41
234, 162
.., 191
...93,95
2
... 5,44
153,162
... 30
... 175
INDEX 353
Page.
Jaygim ... ... ... ... ... 135
Jayadhara ... ... ... ... ... 103
Jaydeva ... ... ... ... 46, 142
Jaynarayan Sen ... ... ... ... 103, 162
Jorinda and Joringel ... ... ... ... 28
K
Kabikankana ... ... ... ... ... 75
Kanchanraj ... ... ... ... ... 67
Kachua ... ... ... ... 127, 140
Kafirs ... ... ... ... 124, 127
Kaivartas ... ... ... ... ... 64
Kalaketu ... ... ... ... ... 55
Kalavati Rajkanya ... ... ... ... ... 67
Kaldut ... ... ... ... 60, 284
Kali ... ... ... 13, 90, 91, 94, 105, 145
Kalidasa ... ... ... ... 192,60
Kaliph A. Mansabji ... ... ... ... 48
Kaliya ... ... ... .. ... 90
Kamadeva ... ... ... 103, 104, 109, 110
Kamakasa ... ... ... ... ... 90
Kamrupa ... ... ... ... 89, 161
Kanauj ... ... ... ... ... 6
Kanchanmala ... 45, 63, 67, 6S, 97, 154, 156, lo7, 158, 159, 162.
165, 343
Kanchi ... 293, 294, 295, 300, 303, 308, 321, 322, 335, 338,
339
Kanu ... ... ... ... ... ... 118
Kapilabastu ... ... ... ... ...42,64
Karma ... ... .. ... 55,330,333
KathiX ... ... .. ... ... 30
Katha Saritsc^^ara ... ... ... ... 5,43,234
Kaynur ... ... 90, 104, 105, 107, 108, 110, 113, 161
Kekaya ... ... ... ... ... 52
Kern ... ... ... ... ... 83
Khaibar Pass ... ... ... ... ... 152
Khana ... ... ... ... ... 78
Kharda ... ... ... ... ... 135
Khondakar Jabed Ali ... ... ... ... 41
Khoramali ... ... ... ... ... 89
Kinu Ghosh ... ... ... 118, 120, 121, 122
45
354 INDEX
Page.
Kirke ... ... ... ... ... 3, 29
Kirtipasa ... ... ... ... ... 151
Kishory Mah.-ilauobis ... ... ... ... 151
Koran ... ... ... ... ... 123
Krisna .. ... ... ... 95,90,94,253
Krisnahari Dasa ... ... ... ... 101, 103
Kud Ghat ... ... ... ... ... 138
Kulin ... ... ... ... ... ... 70
Kumati ... ... ... ... 104,105,111
Knshumpnr ... .. ... ... ... 48
La Fontain ... ... ... . . ..<. 4
Lajjavati ... ... ... ... ... 156
Laksmana ... ... ... ,. 90, 145
Laksmi ... ... ... ... 85,86,88,95
Laual ... ... ... ... 248, 250
Lynette ... ... ... ■•• ■ • 205
Lilavati ... ... ... ... ... 78
Louaen ... ... ... ... ... 30
Lnris ... ... ... ... ... 6
M
Macdonell's History of Sanskrit Liter.iture ... ... 3, 4
Madan ... ... ... 103, 104, 109, 110
Madukaras ... ... • ... ... ... 65
Madhamala ... ... ... ... 56,68,72
Madhusudan ... ... ... ... ... 58
Magadha ... • • ... ••. 42, 44, 48, 49
Mahayana Buddhist ... ■•• ... 330, 83
Mahabharata ... ... ... ■■. 17, 21, .54, 76
Mahammad Korbaii Ali -• ... ... ■.• •.. 156
Mainagar ... ••. ••• ••• ••• 30
Mainamati ... •■ ••• .•• ■•• 233
Maiumdar ... ••■ 16,30.39,41,53,117,193,194, 195,
208, 225, 261, 264, 265, 266
INDEX 355
Pago.
Malauchaiu.iiri ... 45, Ifi, r,;\, 5(3, (30, 154, 156, 230, 2U2, i^G5, 266,
267, 275, 277, 278, 280, 282, 283, 284, 285, 286,
28S, 289, 290, 291, 292, 293, 294, 295, 296, 297,
298, 299, 300, 301, 302, 303, 304, 305, 307, 308,
309, 310, 312, 313, 314, 315, 316, 318, 319, 320,
321, 322, 323, 324, 325, 328, 329, 330, 321, 332,
334, 335, 336, 337, 338, 339, 340.
Malati Kusiim ... ... ... 97,156,160,193
Mallika ... ... ... 125,12(3,128,130,132
Manipur ... ... ... ... ... 145
ManasaDe\i ... ... ... ... 99,90,94,96
Manik Pir .. 98, 99, 115, 116, 117, 119, 120, 121, 122
Maniruddin Ahmad ... ... ... ... ... I56
Miinik Chandra ... ... ... ... 14,30
Mauiko-anj ... ... ... ... ... 195
Manikraja ... ... ... ... ... '67
Maniktala ... ... ... ... ... 67
Mansitigh ... ... ... ... .,, H)2
Masjidbari Street, Calcutta ... ... ... ... 156
Masta Bene ... ... ... ... ... 67
Matiraja ... ... ... ... . 67
Maulvi Lntful Khabir ... ... ... 136, 150
Mauryas ... ... ... ... ... 48
Maynamati ... ... ... ... 14 15
Maya Danava ... ... ... ... .. 102
Ma.ynr Pankhis ... ... ... ... (55
Mayurpekhama ... ... ... .., Yj
Mechnabazar Street... ... ... ... ., 15(5
Mecklenburgh ... ... ... ... .28
Medeia ... ... ... ... . 2
Medina ... ... ... 124,131,125,126
Mediterranian • . . . ... ... ... ... q
Mediaeval literature... ... ... ... ... 4 43
Medusa ... ... ... ... ..." -2
Meghadumbur ... ... ... ... ., 7I
Miach ... ... ... ... ... 233
Middle ages of Europe ... ... ... ... 3
Minotnur ... ... ... ... ... 2
Mir Khoraiu Ali ... ... ... ... .. g^
Moghul ... ... ... .., 136
356
INDEX
MogalmSri
Mokhtab
Mollas
Moslem
Mothei' Holle
Mrigavati
Muhammad Korbau Ali
Muhoammad Khater Marhuu
Muhammad Talukdar
Mukhshaddis
Munshi Amiruddiu Ahmad
Munshi Aminuddin ...
Munshi Enayetulla Sircar
Munshi Afaruddin ...
Munshi Pijiruddin ...
Murshidabad
Murari ^ila
Mymensing
Page.
219
197
.. 89, 94, 95,
155
41,
135
35, 38, 39
162
195
162
140,
144
144
41
135
92
41
115,
188
148,149,
150
75
94,
262
N
Nagaryuua
Nala- Damayanti
Naradhaja
Nasiruddiu
Nasirban Emperor
Nowab
Xeda-nedis
Negroes
Nirvana
Nisami
Noakhali
Non- Aryan
137, 138, 139, 140
83
161
207,
208
), 141,
143, 144,
145
48
147,
149
81
246
153
28
136
147
Orissa
Oxford University Press
Oazid Ali
6, 219
14, 43
130
INDEX 367
p
Page.
I'adcrborn ... ■■• •• ••• l!i
Padma ... ... ... . . ... 50
Padmini ... ... ... ... ■■ 85
Paksiraj ... 267, 2&.), 274, 282, 2[)6, 299, 301, 302. 305, 309
Pandit ... ... ... ••. ... 57
Pandit Braja Jaiiiabar ... ... ... 48
Pandit Ramgati Nyayaratua ... .. ... 17
Panchatantra ... ... ... ... 3, -4, 5, 44, 234
Pargawnah ... ... ... ... 137, 140
Parikshit .. ... ... ... ... 174
Parnassus ... ... ... ... 57
Parvati ... ... ... ... 159,216,218
Pataliputra ... ... ... •• 234
Pauranic Kenaiisaauce ... ... ... 155, 161, 121
Pegasos ... ... ... ... 2
Persens ... ... ... ... 2
Persia ... ... .. 43
Persians 4, 57, 30, 43, 47, 48, 51, 57, 58, 97, 99, 103, 124, 154, 160, 195
Philenien ... ... ... ... 3
Phullari ... ... ... ... 55
Pilpay ... ... ... ... 49
Pinger ... ... ... ... ... 262
Plassy ... ... ... .•• ■•. 136
Prahlada ... ■■• ... ... 54, 153
Prakrit ... ... ... 263,264,67,247
Ptolemaic theory ... ... ... ... 254
Puranas ... ... ■••55, 56, 95, 293, 153, 154, 192
Prakritic Bengali ... ... ... ■• 86
Puspamala ... 29,208,209,210,212,2)5,45,227,230,231
Pusparathas ... ... ... ... 71
Putra Sarovara ... ... ... ... ...209,226
Pyramid ... ... ... ... 46
Quarterly Review ... ... ... ... 40
RSdha ... ... ... ... 94
Raja Baruna ... .. ... 124,127,128,129,133,134
358 INDEX
Page.
Kaja Bircliandra Manikya of Tippera ... ... 53
Rajknmar Roy ... ... ... ... lol
llajakanuiri ... ... ... ... 96
Raja Ram moliau l\oy ... ... ... 192
Rajamala ... ... .. ... 150
Rakshasa .. ... ... ... 19, 231», 51, 232
Rama ... ... ...18,90,20-1,223
RamaDiiuoliaii ... ... ... ... 192
Raniai Pandit ... ... ... ... 90
Ramayanas .. ... ... ... 17,52,54
Raiijana ... ... ... ... 116
Ras'ul ... ... ... ••■ ••■ 102
Katau Chaadlmry ... ... ... ... 137
Rev Lai Behary Dey 8, IS, 13, 24-, 41, 50, 52, 68, 193, 194, 233, 266
Revivalist ... .. ... ... 69
RovcXkheuda ... ... .. ... 100
Reynard ... ... ... ... 244, 245, 245, 23
Riks ... ... ... ... 254
Rojahs ... ... ... ... ••. 86
Rose-bud ... ... ... 291
Rukmini ... ... ... .■• ... 162
Rumpct-btilts-kiu ... ... ... ... 31,34,35
Riipachand ... ... ■•• ... 159
Rupakathas ... ... ... ... 52, 76
Rupalal ... ... ... ... 63, 163, 165
Riipamala ... ... ••• ... 8, 13,45, 63
RQpavati ... ... ... 185, 187, 188
Rupvarnaria ... .-■ ... ... 57
Rabindranatli Tagore ... ... ... 264
s
Saliaria ... ••. . ••• 234
Sakhi-Sona 29,'97, 195, 197, 198, 199, 200, 201, 202, 203, 204, 207, 208,
209, 219, 220, 222, 224
•Sakuntala ... ... ■•• .. 193
Sakhya ... ••• ••• ••■ 147
8aktas ... ... ... 24
aalad ... ... ... 24, 194
Sjimshcr Gazi Gilua ... ... ... 136
INDEX 359
Pfier'.
Samser Giizi ... ... ... ... i:?8, ]50
Sambliu ... ... ... ... 194
Sainritabhana ... ... ... ... 13;")
Sanaka ... ... ... ... 120, 121, 122
Sankhal ... ... ... ... ♦>
Sankaracliarya ... ... ... .. J 00, 101
Saras wati ... ... ... ... 1)8, ir.S, 159
Siirnioo ... ... ... ... ;{4-
Satyanarayan ... ... .. ... lOC
Satya ... Pir 98, 99, 100, 101, 102, 103, 104, 106, 107, 108, 110, 113
Savitri ... ... ... ... 253,46
Saxon ... ... ... ... 44
Saya Bene ... ... ... ... .67
Semitic .. ... ... ••• 84
Sehwalmgegend ... ... ... ... 28
Senmasli ... ... ■•• . ••• '^^'^
Scorpion ... ... .. ... 197
Scythian Brahmins ... ... ... 61
Shal ... ... ... ... ... loO
Shamsher Gazi ... ... ... ... 150
Shahabad ... ... ... ... 195
Shaha Kamaruddin ... ... | ... ... 118, 114
Shekh Onich ... ... ... ... 148
ShobhaDatta ... ... ... ... 142
Shonala ... ... ... ... 68
Sikh Guru ... ... ... ... 46
Sonar Kathi and Bnpar KaMii ... .. ... 16
Sindevijan ... ... ... ... 195
Sindabad ... ... ... ... 2:U
Sita ... ... ... .. ... 52
Sitar Vanavapa ... ... ... ... 1 03
Skandapurana ... ... ... ... 100
Sonadhan ... ... ... ... 135
Sugriva ... ... ... ... 204
Suka ... .. ■■• •• 109, 18.5, 226, .343
Snkhu ... ... ... ... ... 3.5, .36, .37
Sultan Muhammad Gaji ... ... ... 48
Sumati ... •• ■ .• 104, 105, 111
Snndarbans ... 151
360
INDEX
Sundara ...
Suo Rani
Surath Bibi
Suvarna Banikas
Swandhyavati
Syed
Syed Sbalia Khandakar Javedali
Sylhet ...
Syrian languages
Page.
103, 104, 10.5, 106, 107, lOH, 109, 110, 111, 112
im, 188, 182, 183
115, 116
63,64
1C2
195
156
151
48
Taimus
Tajmahal
Tamasffi
Tangail
Tantrik
Tantrikism
TSpai
Tara
Tartars ...
Teutonic
Tennyson
ThSkur DSdSr Jhuli
Thames
Thakurmar Jhuli
Thua
Tilavande^wara
Tipperah
Tom Thumb
Trigonometry
Typical Selections
Tuesday
Tuirenn
Turk
... 163
... 46
... 46
... 262
161, 239, 328
... 328
31,32
60, 270,' 271, 272, 273, 274, 321
... 29
... 43
... 335
,. 41, 193, 194, 262
51
... 16
247, 248
... 153
1.17, 130, 141, 145, 146, 147, 150
39,40
... 80
... 49
... 92
16, 17
... 127, 128, 129, 130, 133, 184
Udaipnr
Udipur . . .
Ujjhaya and Ojhfl
145, 150
... 145
... 93
^^^ INDEX .161
Page.
Ulysses ... ... ... ... ... 29
Uma ... ,.. ... ... ... 66
Unihar ... ... ... ... ... 128,129,130
Upaiiishadaic ... ... ... ... ... 256
Upadhyaya ... ... ... ... ... 93
Urdu ... ... ... ... ... 160
Utsava ... ... ... ... ... 148
Uttarakanda ... ... ... ... ... 224
Uzir ... ... ... ... 142, 143, 148, 197
Vaikuntha ... ... ... ... ... 60
Valmiki ... ... ... ... ... 46
Vuisampayna ... ... ... ... ... 190
Vaisjjava ... ... ... ... 15, 84
Vaisnavisni ... ... ... ... ... 83
Vedas ... ... ... • ... 56, 293
Vedic ... ... ... ... 81, 228, 255, 256
Vedic literature ... ... ... ... ... 254
Vehest ... ... ... ... 101,102,131
Vernacular literature ... ... ... ... 323
Vidhata ... ... ... 60,270,271,274,321
Vidhata purusa ... ... ... ... 79,261
VidyiXSagara ... ... ... ... 192,193
Vijayachandra ... ... ... ... 191, 192
Vijaya-Vasanta ... ... 173, 174, 175, 176, 177, 178, 191
Vikramajit ... ... ... ... 208,219
Virat Nagar .,. ... ... ... ... 118
Visha ... ... ... ... ... 21
Vishaya ... ... ... ... ...21,22
Visnu ... ... ... ... 85, 100, 153
Visnu 9arma ... ... ... ... 48, 49
Visnudut ... ... ... ... ..60
Voja ... ••• ••• ••• ... 65
Vyasa ... ... ... ... ••. 17
w
Wasir ... ... ••• ... ... 13
Wuenschelbruthe ... ... ... ... ... 23
46
3tJZ
INDEX
Y
Yama
Yamadut
Yogi
Yugi
Ynktikalpatarii
Page.
233
60
328
262
65
Zodiac
Zwehrn
255
13
OPINIONS
" HISTORY OF THE BENGALI LANGUAGE AND
LITERATURE" (IN ENGLISH)
BY
RAI SAHIB DINESH CHANDRA SEN, B A.
Publixlied by
CALCUTTA UNIVERSITY
Price— Rs. 12. Demy 8vo. pp. 1030,
with illustrations.
His Excellency Lord Hardinge of Fenshurst in his Con-
vocation Address, dated the 16th March, 1912 as Chancellor of the
Calcutta University: —
" During the last four years also the University has, from time to
time, appointed Readers on special subjects to foster investigation of
important branches of learning amongst our advanced students. One
of these Readers, Mr. Sen, has eml)odied his lectures on the History
of Bengali Language and Literature from tlie earliest times tc the
middle of the 19th century in a volume of . considerable merit, which
he is about to supplement by another original coutribntion to the
history of one of the most important vernaculnra m this couutrv.
May I express the hope that this example will be followed eLsi-where,
and that critical schools may be established for the vernacular lan-
guages of India which have not aa yet received the attention that
they deserve."
His Excellency Lord Carmichael, Governor of Bengal,
in his address on the occasion of his lajnng the Foundation Stone of the
Romesh Chandra Saraswat Bhawan, dated the 20th November,
1916:—
" For long Romesh Chandra Dutt's History of the Literature of
Bengal was the only work of its kind available to the general reader.
The results of further study in this field have been made available to
us by the publication of the learned and luminous lectures of Rai
Sahib Dineachandra Sen. * * In the direction of the History
of the Language and the Literature, Rai Sahib Pineschandra Sen ha§
U OPINIONS
created the necessary interest bj his Typical Selections. It remains
for the members of the Parishad to follow this lead and to carry on
the work in the same spirit, of patient accurate research."
Sir Asutosh mSookerjee, in his Convocation Address, dated
the 13th March, 1909, as Vice-Chancellor of the Calcutta University : —
. . " We have had a long series of luminous lectures from one of our
own graduates, Babu Dineschandra Sen, on the fascinating subject of
the History of the Bengali Language and Literature. These lectnros
take a comprehensive view of the development of our vernacular, and
their publication will unquestionably facilitate the historical investi-
gation of the origin of the vernacular literature of this country, the
study of which is avowedly one of the forpmnst objects of the New
Regulations to promote."
Sylvain Iievi (Paris) — "I cannot give you praises enough — your
work i^ a, Cliintamani —n Ratnahara, No book about India would I
compare with yours Never did I find such a realistic sense of litera-
ture Pundit and Peasant, Yogi and Raja mix together in a Shakes-
pearian way on the stage you have built up."
Extract from a review by the same scholar in the " Bievue
Critique " Jan. 1915 ; — (translated for the " Bengalee.")
" One cannot praise too highly the work of Mr. Sen. A profound
and original erudition has been associated with vivid imagination.
■ The historian though relying on his documents has the temperament
of an epic poet. He has likewise inherited the lyric genius of his
race."
. Ba>rth (Pdri.'^) — "I can approach your book as a learner, not
as a judge."
C. H. Tawney — " Your work shows vast research and much
general culture."
Vincent Smith — "' A work of profound learning and high value."
p. W- Thomas — " Characterised by extensive erudition and inde-
pendent research."
E. J. Rapson — " I looked through it with great interest and
great admiration for the knowledge and research to which it bears
witness."
p. K. Skrine — " Monumental woi-k — I have been revelling in the
book which taught me much of which I was ignorant."
E. B. Havell — " Most valuable book which every Anglo-Indian
should read. I congratulate you most heartily on your very admij-able
English and perfect lucidity of style."
D. C- Phillot — " I can well understand the enthusiasm with
which the work was received by scholars, for even to men unacquainted
OPINIONS 111
with your laiifrnnfro, i( onnnot Tail to ho ;i fjoiirro of pronf intprest and
prolit."
Ii. D- Barnett — " I conftrnfiilate von on liaving accomplished
such an adniirahlo work." - - - ' ■
G. Hultzuh. — " Mr. Sen's valuable work on Beiif^alJ literature, a
subject hirlierto unfamiliar to n)e, which I am now reading with fjreat
interest."
J. P. Blumliardt — " An extremely well-written and scholarly pro-
duction, exhaustive in its wealth of materials and of immense value."
T. W. Bihys Davids—" It is a most interesting and important
work and reflects threat credit on your industry and research."
Jules Bloch (Pnria) — " Your book I find an admirable one and
wliich is th(\ only one of its kind in the whole of India."
William Rothenstein- " T found the book surprisingly lull of
suggestive information. It held me bound fiour beginning to end,
in s})ite of my absolute ignorance of the language of which you write
with obviously profound scholarship."
Bmile Senart (Pnrh) — " I have gone through your book with
lively interest and it appears to me to do the highest credit to your
learning and method of working." '
Henry Van Dyke— (r. <S' ..4.) - "Your instructive pases which
are full of new suggestions in regard to the richness and interest of the
Bengali Language and Literature."
C T. Winchester— (('. iS. .1.)— "A work of profound learning on
a theme which demands the attention of all Western scholars."
Prom a long review in the Times Literary Supplement,
London, June 20, 1912 — " In his narration, as becomes one who is
the soul of scholarly candour, he tells those, who can read him with
sympathy and imagination more abont the Hindu mind and its attitude
towards life than we can gather from 50 volumes of impressions of
travel by Europeans. Loti's picturesque account of the rites practised
in Travancore temples, and even M. Chevrillon's sj-nthesis of much
browsing in Hindu Scriptures, seem faint records by the side of this
unassuming tale of Hindu literature — ^Mr. Sen may well be proud of the
lasting monument he has erected to the literature of his native Bengal."
From a long review in the Athenaeum, March, 16, 1912 — "Mr.
Sen may justly congratulate himself on rlie fact that in ihe middle age
he has done more for the history of his national language and literature
than any other writer of his own or indeed any time."
From a long review in the Spectator, June 12, 1912— "A book of
extraordinary intei-est to those who would make an impartial studv
of the Bengali mentality and character- — a work which reflects the
IV OPINIONS
uf-mosi: civflit. on the oandoin-, industry and learning of its author.
In its kind his book is a mastoi'piece — modest, learned, thorough and
sympathetic. Perhaps no ot'ier man living has the learning and
happy industry for the task he h^3 successfully accomplished."
From a review by Mr. H. Beveridge in the Royal Asiatic
Society's Journal, Jan. 1912.—" \t is a very full and interesting account
of the development of the Bengali Literature. He has a power of
pictui-esque writing... his descriptions are often eloquent."
From a long review by S. K. RatcliiFe in " India,'^ I,ondon,
March 15, 1912— "There is no more competent authority on the subject
than Mr. Dineschandra Sen. The great value of the book is in its
full and fresh treatment of the pre-English era and for this it would
be difficult to give its author too high pi'aisp."
From a long review by H. Kern iu the Bijdragen of the Royal
Institute for 'Taal (translated by Dr. Kern himself) — "Fruit of investiga-
tion carried through many years... highly interesting book. ..the
reviewer has ail to admire in the pages of the work, nothing to
criticise, for his whole knowledge is derived from it."
From a review by Dr. Oldenberg in the Franhfurter Zistmig,
December 3, 1911 (Translated by the late Dr. Thibaut)..." It is an
important supplementation of the history of modern Sanskrit Litera-
ture. The account of Chaitanya's influence on the poetical literature
of Bengal contributes one of the most brilliant sections of the work."
From a review in Deutsche Rundschan, April, 1912— " The
picture which this loax-ned Bengali has painted for us with loving care
of the literature of his native land deserves to be received with
attentive and grateful respect."
From a review in Luzac's Oriental List, London, May-June,
1912 — "A work of inestimable value, full of interesting information,
containing complete account of the writings of Bengali authors from
the earliest time... It will undoubtedly find a place in every Oriental
library as being the most complete and reliable standard work on the
Bengali Language and Literature "
From a review in the Indian Magazine, London, August, 1912 —
"For Mr. Sen's erudition, his sturdy patriotism, his instructive percep-
tion of the finer qualities in Bengali life and literature, the reader of
his book must have a profound respect if he is to understand what
modern Bengal is."
From a long review in the Madras Mail, May 9, 1912, "A
survey of the evolution of the Bengali letters by a student so
competent, so exceptionallj' learned can hardly fail to be an important
event in the world of criticism."
OPINIONS V
From a long roviow in the Fioueer, May 5, 1912 — "Mr. Sen is a
typical student such as was common in niediaoval Pjurope — a lover of
learning for learning's sake... He must be a poor judge of characters
who can rise from a perusal of Mr. Sen's pages without a real respect
and liking for the writer, for his sincerity, his industry, his enthusiasm
in the cause of learning."
From a review in Englishman, April 23, 1912 — " Only one who
has completely identified himself with the subject could have mastered
it so well as the author of this imposing book."
From a review in the Empire, August 31, 1918 — "As a book of
reference Mr. Sen's work will be found invaluable and he is to be
congratulated on the result of his labours. It may well be said that
he has proved what an Englisli enthusiast once said that 'Bengali
unites the mellitiuousness of Italian with the power possessed by
German for rendering complex ideas."
From a review in the Indian Antiq^uary, December, 1912, by
F. G. Fargiter : — " This book is the outcome of great research and
study, on which the author deserves the warmest praise. He has
explained the literature and the subjects treated in it with such
fulness and in such detail as to make the whole plain to any reader.
The folk-literature, the structure and style of the language, metre
and rhyme, and many miscellaneous points are discussed in valuable
notes. The tone is calm and the judgments appear to be generally
fair."
BANGA SAHITYA FABICHAYA
OK
TYPICAL SELECTIONS FROM OLD
BENGALI LITERATURE
BY
Hai Sahib Dineschandra Sen, BA,
2 vols. pp. 1911, Royal 8vu., with an Introdactioii in English running
over 99 pages, published by the University of Calcutta.
(With 10 coloured illustrations) Price Rs. 12).
Sir George Grierson— "Invaluable wm-k That I have yet
read through its 1900 pages I do not pretend, but what I have read
has filled me with admiration for the industry and learning displayed
It is a worthy sequel to your monumental History of Bengali Litera-
ture, and of it Ave may sa.te]y say ^'finis coronat opus." -How I wish
that a similar work could be compiled for other Indian languages,
specially for Hindi."
IS. B. Havell — " Two monumental volumes from old Bengali
Literature. As I am not a Bengali scholar, it is impossible for me to
appreciate at their full value the splendid results of your scholarship
and research, but I have enjoyed reading your luminous and most
instructive introduction which gives a clear insight into the subject.
I was also very much interested in the illustrations, the reproduction
of which from original paintings is vcrj- successful and creditable to
Swadeshi work."
H. Beveridge — " Two magnificent volumes of the Bauga Sahitya
Parichaya I have read with interest Rasa Snndari's autobiography
in your extracts."
F- H. Skrine — " The two splendid volumes of Banga Sahitya
Parichaya I am reading with pleasure and profit. They are a credit
to your profound learning and to the University which has given them
to the world."
From a long review in The Times Literary Supplement,
London, November 4, 1915 — "In June, 1912, in commenting on Mr.
Sen's History of Bengali Language and Literature, we suggested that
that work might usefully be supplemented by an authology of Bengali
prose and poetry. Mr. §en has for many years been occuijied with
the aid of other patriotic students of the mcditeval literature of Bengal
in collecting manuscripts of forgotten or half-forgotten poems. In
addition to these more or less valuable monuments of Bengali poetic
OPINIONS Vll
art, the cliief popular presses have published great niassies uii litei'ary
matter, chiefly reli<j;ious verse. It can hardly be said that these piles
of written and printed matter have ever been subjected to a critical
or philolof^ical scrutiny. Their very existence was barely known to
the Europeans, even to those who have studied the Bengali Language
on the spot. Educated Bengalis themselves, until quite recent times,
have been too busy with the arts and sciences of Europe to spare
much time for indigenous treasures. That was the reason why we
suggested the compiling of a critical chrestomathy for the benefit not
only of European but of native scholars. The University of Calcutta
prompted by the em.inent scholar Sir Asutosh Mookerjee, then Vice-
Chancallor, had already anticipated this need it seems. It had shrunk
(rightly, we think) from the enormous and expensive task of printing
the MSS. recovered by the diligence and generosity of Mr. Sen and
other inquirers and employed Jlr Sen to prepare the two bulky
volumes now before us. The Calcutta Senate is to be congratulated
on its enterprise and generosity."
From a review in The A.theiiaeum, January 16, 1915—" We have
already reviewed Mr. Sen's History of Bengali Language and Litera-
ture and have rendered some account of his previous work in Bengali
entitled Bhanga Bhasa 0 Sahifya. Mr. Sen now supplies the means
of checking his historical and critical conclusions in a copious
collection of Bengali verse Here are the materials carefully
arranged and annotated with a skill and learning such as probably no
one else living can command."
From a review by Mr. P. G. Pargiter— in the Royal Asiatic
Society's Journal — " These two portly volumes of some 2,100 pages
are an anthology of Bengali poetry and prose from the 8th to the
19th century and are auxiliary to the same author's History of Bengali
Language and Literature which was reviewed by Mr. Beveridge in
this Journal for 1912 The Vice-Chancellor of the Calcutta Uni-
versity who was consulted, decided that the best preliminary measure
would be to make and publish typical selections. The University
then entrusted that duty to Babu Dinesh Chandra Sen ; this work
is the outcome of his researches... There can be no question that
Dinesh Babu was the person most competent to undertake the task
and in these two volumes we have without doubt a good presentment
jf typical specimens of old Bengali-literature... The style of the
big book is excellent, its printing is fine, and it is embellished with
well-executed reproductions in colour of some old painting. Is haa
also a copious index.
47
THE
YAISNAVA LITERATURE OF MEDIAEVAL BENGAL
{Beinfj lecturer delivered os Reader lo the Unhernty of
Calcutta. '\
BY
RAI SAHIB DINESH CHANDRA SEN, B.A.
JUST PUBLISHED BY THE
CALCUTTA UNIVERSITY
Demy 8vo. 257 pages
WITH A PREFACE BY
J. D. ANDERSON, Esq., I,C.S., (Retired)
Price Bs. 2 only.
Sir George Grierson : — Very valuable book I am reading it
witli the greatest interest and am learning much from it.
William Rotheustein. — I was delighted with your book, I cannot
tell you how touched I am to be reminded of that side of your
beloved country which appeals to me most — a side of which I was able
to perceive something during my own too short visit to India. In
the faces of the best of your countrymen I was able to see that spirit
of which you write so charmingly in your book. I am able to recall
these faces and figures as if they were before me. I hear the tinkle
of the temple-bells along the ghats of Benares, the voices of the
women as they sing their sacred songs crossing the noble river in
the boats at sunset and I sit once more with the austere Sanyasin
friends I shall never, I fear, see more. But though I shall not look
upon the face of India again, the vision I had of it will fill my eyes
through life, and the love I feel for your country will remain to
enrich my own vision of life, so long as I am capable of using it.
Though I can only read you in English, the spirit in which you
write is to me so true an Indian spirit, that it shines through our own
idiom, and carries me, I said before, straight to the banks of your
sacred rivers, to the bathing tanks and white shrine and temples of
your well remembered villages and tanks. So once more I send you
y thanks for the magic carpet you sent me, upon which my soul can
OPINIONS ix
retnrn to your dear land. May the songs of wliicli yoii write to me
remain to till this land with their fragrance ; yon will have need of
them, in the years before yon, as we have need of all that is best in
the songs of our own seers in the dark waters through whicli we are
steering.
rroni a long review in the Times Literary Supplement,
2nd August, 1917
The Vaisnava Literature of Mediaeval Bengal. By Rai Sahib
Dineschandra Sen. (Calcutta : — The University.)
Though the generalisation that all Hindus not belonging to modern
reform movements are Saivas or Vaisnavas is much too wide, there
are the two main divisions in the bewildering mass of sects which
make up the 217,000,000 of Hindus, and at many points they overlap
each other. The attempts made in the 1901 Census to collect informa-
tion regarding sects led to such unsatisfactory and partial results
that they were not repeated in the last decennial enumeration. But it
is unquestionable that the Vaisnavas — the worshipi3ers of Krishna —
are dominant in Bengal, owing to the great success of the reformed
cult established by Ghaitanya, a contemporary of Martin Luther. The
doctrine of Bhakti or religious devotion, which he taught still
flourishes in Bengal, and the four lectures of the Reader to the
University of Calcutta in Bengali here reproduced provide an instruc-
tive guide to its expression in the literature of the country during the
sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. The first part of the book is
devoted to the earl}' laeiiod of Vaisnava literature, dating from the
eleventh century.
The Rai Sahib is filled wiih a most patriotic love of his nation and
its literature, and has done more than any contemporary countryman to
widen our knowledge of them. His bulky volume recording the history
of Bengali Language and Literature from the eai'liest times to the
middle of the nineteenth century is accepted by Orientalists as the
most complete and authoritative work on the subject. The industry
and learning displayed therein and in his thought is still dominant in
modern Bengali literature not directly Vaisnava in import.
There is refreshing ingenuousness" in his claim, " my industry
has been great," and the "forbearing indulgence" for which he asks
if he has failed from any lack of powers, will readily be granted in view
of the enthusiasm for his subject which somewhat narrows the strictly
critical value of his estimates, biit does not impair the sustained human
interest of the book.
X OPINIONS
Chaitanya clearly taught, as these pages show, that the Krishna of
the Mahabharata, the great chieftain and ally of the Pandava brother,
was not the Krishna of Brindaban. The latter, said the reformer, to
Rupa, the author of those masterpieces of Sanskrit drama, the
Vidagdha Madhava and the Lalita Madhava, was love's very self and an
embodiment of sweetness : and the more material glories of Mathura
should not be confused with the spiritual conquests of Brindabon. The
amours of Krishna with Radha and the milkmaids of Brindabon are
staple tlieines of the literature associated with the worship of the God
of the seductive flute. But Mr. Sen repeatedly insists that the love
discussed in the literature he has so closely studied is spiritual and
mystic, although usually presented in sensuous garb. Chaitanya who
had frequent ecstasies of spiritual joy ; Rupa, who classified the emo-
tions of love in 360 groups and the other authors whose careers are
here traced were hermits of unspotted life and religious devotion. The
old passionate desire for union which they taught is still dominant in
modern Bengali literature not directly Vaisnava in import. As Mr. J.
D. Anderson points out in his preface, the influence of Chaitanya's
teaching may be detected in the mystical verses of Tagore.
Chaitanya and His Companions
From a lono; review in the Times Literary supplement 25tl( April,
1918:-
" This delif^btful and interestiag little book is the ontcome of a
series of lectures aupplementincr the learned discourses which Mr. Sen
made the material of his " Baisiiava Literature of Mediaeval Bengal "
reviewed by ns on August 2, 1917.
It is an authentic record of the reli<^ious emotion and tliought of
that wonderful province of Bengal which few of its Western rulers, we
suspect, have rightly comprehended, not from lack of friendly sympathy
but simply from want of precisely what Mr. Sen, better than any one
living, better than Sir Rabindranath Tagore himself, can supply.
It is indeed, no easy matter for a Western Protestant to compre-
hend, save by friendship and sympathy with just such a pious Hindu
as Mr, Sen, what is the doctrine of an istadevata, a '' favourite deit}' "
of Hindu pious adoration. In his native tongue Mr. Sen has written
charming little books, based on ancient legends, which bring us very
near the heart of this simple mystery, akin, we suppo.^e, to the cult of
particular saints in Catholic countries. Such for instance, is his
charming tale of " Sati," the Aryan spouse cf the rough Himalayan
ascetic god Siva. The tale is dedicated, in words of delightfully
candid respect and affection, to the devoted and loving wives of Bengal,
whose virtues as wives and mothers are the admiration of all who
know their country. Your pious Vaisnava can, without any hesitation
or difficulty, transfer his thoughts from the symbolical amorism of
Krisna to that other strange creation-legend of Him of the Blue Throat
who, to save God's creatures, swallowed the poison cast np at the
Churning of the Ocean and bears the mystic stigma to this day. Well,
we have our traditions, legends, mysteries, and as Miss Underbill and
others tell us, our own ecstatic mystics, who find such ineffable joy in
loving God as, our Hindu friends tell us, the divine Radha experienced
in her sweet surrender to the inspired wooing of Krisna. The im-
portant thing for us, as students of life and literature is to note how
these old communal beliefs influence and develop that wonderful record
of human thought and emotion wrought for us b)' the imaginative
writers of verse and prose, the patient artists of the pen.
When all is said, there remains the odd indefnnable charm which
attaches to all that Dinesh Chandra Sen writes, whether in English or
Xll OPINIONS
his nativre Bengali. In his book breathe a native candour and piety which
somehow remind us of the classical writers familiar to our boyhood.
In truth, he is a belated contemporary of, say, Plutarch, and attacks his
biographical task in much the same spirit. We hope his latest book
will be widely (and sympathetically) read."
The Vaisnava Literature of Mediaeval Bengal
J. D. Anderson, Esq. — retired I. C. S., Professor, Cambridge Univer-
sity ; — I have read more than half of it I propose to send with it, if
circumstances leave me the courage to write it, a short Preface (which
I hope you will read with pleasure even if you do not think it worth
publication) explaining why, in the judgment of a veiy old student of
all your works, your book should be read not only in Calcutta, but in
London and Paris, and Oxford and Cambridge, I have read it and am
reading it with great delight and profit and very real sympathj'. Think
how great must be the charm of your topic and your treatment when
in this awful year of anxiety and sorrow, the reading of your delightful
MS. has given me rest and refreshment in a time when every po.^t,
every knock at the door maj' bring us sorrow.
I write this in a frantic hurry — the mail goes to-day — in order to go
back to your most interseting and fascinating pages.
History of the Bengali Language and Literature
Extract from a long review by Sylvain Levi (Paris) in the " Revue
Critique" Jan. 1915;— translated for the Bengalee).
' One cannot praise too highly the work of Mr. Sen. A profound
and original erudition hns been associated with a vivid imagination.
The works which he analyses are brought back to life with the con-
sciousness of the original author.-^, with the movement of the multitudes
who patronised them n.nd with the landscape which encircled them.
The liistorian, though relying on his documents, has the temperament
of an epic poet. He has likewise inherited the lyrical genius of his
race. His enthusiastic sympathy vibrates through all his descriptions.
Convinced as every Hindu is of the superiority of the Brahmanic
civilization, he exalts its glories and palliates its shortcomings, if he
does not approve of them he would excuse them. He tries to be just
to Buddhism and Islam; in the main he is grateful to them for their
contribution to the making of India. He praises; with eloquent ardour
the early English missionaries of Christianity.
The appreciation of life so rare in our book-knowledge, runs
throughout the work ; one reads these thousand pages with a sus-
tained interest ; and one loses sight of the enormous labour which it
OPINIONS Xlll
)ircsiipp()ses ; one easily slips into the treasure ef infuruiatii)n wliich it
l)rosouts. The individual extracts (juotcd at the bottom of the pages
offers a unique anthology of Bengali. The linguistic i-ernarks scattered
in the extracts abound in new and precious materials. ^Ir. Son has
given to his country a model u-hich it would be dillicult to surpass ;
we oidy wish that it nuiy provoke in other parts of India emulations
to follow it."
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