Tales from India

by Bali Rai

  The Brahmin edged closer to the cage, and untying the thick ropes, set the beast free. The tiger jumped from its prison, snarling and snapping.

  ‘You foolish man!’ it roared. ‘I have been trapped for many days and my belly aches with hunger! Why should I not eat you?’

  The Brahmin, realizing his mistake, began to tremble. He fell to his knees and begged for mercy.

  ‘But I saved you from certain death!’ the priest cried. ‘How can you betray such kindness?’

  ‘I am only doing what a tiger must do,’ the great beast replied.

  ‘But what about your karma?’ the Brahmin asked. ‘If you are so wicked, you will be reborn as a lower being!’

  The tiger thought for a moment, and then shook its mighty head. ‘Karma does not bother me,’ it said. ‘But you were very kind. Perhaps I shall give you a chance …’

  ‘Anything, kind sir!’ the Brahmin pleaded.

  The tiger considered this and then declared, ‘You must find three things and ask their advice. Should I eat you, or let you go? Whatever they say, I will accept. But you cannot ask any humans …’

  ‘Agreed!’ said the Brahmin.

  Firstly, the Brahmin approached a sacred fig tree – a peepal. It stood tall and stout, its branches rich with lush foliage and heavy with fruit.

  ‘Dear blessed tree,’ said the Brahmin. ‘I saved this tiger from certain death and now it wishes to eat me. What do you think it should do?’

  The tree considered the priest’s words a moment before it replied.

  ‘You cannot complain!’ it said. ‘I give shelter to all humans who pass under my branches, no matter who they are. Yet still they cut me down and feed my leaves to their cattle! They take my fruits without a care about me. Why should I care what this tiger does?’

  ‘Yes, but …’ began the Brahmin.

  ‘Enough!’ said the tree. ‘Go now and meet your fate!’

  As the sorrowful Brahmin trudged away, the tiger was amused.

  ‘That is one vote for me,’ it said. ‘My stomach is already rumbling …’

  Next, whilst passing a field, the Brahmin spotted a powerful water buffalo, yoked to a waterwheel that it turned very slowly. Confident that the buffalo would help him, the Brahmin felt a little better. As they approached the well, the water buffalo stopped and watched them.

  ‘Oh, mighty and hardworking buffalo,’ said the Brahmin. ‘I am caught in a terrible dilemma. I was hoping you might help me?’

  The Brahmin explained his troubles, as the tiger lapped cool water from a puddle by the well. But the water buffalo scoffed and nodded to its yoke.

  ‘You cannot expect help from me!’ it said. ‘When I was young and still gave milk, the farmers fed me delicious foods. But when the milk ran dry, they left me here, to toil in the sun. I gave them everything and now they feed me rubbish!’

  ‘A terrible thing, I agree,’ said the Brahmin, ‘but …’

  ‘Go now, wretch!’ said the buffalo. ‘I don’t care about your problems!’

  The Brahmin, now certain that the tiger would devour him, turned away.

  ‘I think you will taste better with a little salt and pepper,’ the tiger teased. ‘But, first, let us find number three.’

  The Brahmin refused to go on. Looking down, he saw the dirt path on which they stood. He decided to ask the dry earth what it thought, sure that the tiger would eat him regardless. The tiger smiled as it waited for a reply.

  ‘You poor priest,’ said the path. ‘You were wrong to trust this beast. People use me every day, rich and poor, yet what do I get in return? My surface is scarred with potholes and cracks, and parched of water. I am only here to bear the weight of others. No one cares about me, do they?’

  The Brahmin sat down in utter despair.

  ‘So why should I care for you?’ the path added.

  ‘Eat me now!’ the Brahmin wailed. ‘I have nothing else to ask!’

  However, the tiger shook its head. ‘We must return to the forest,’ it said. ‘If I eat you here, other humans will see and they will kill me. I need privacy.’

  So back to the forest the poor Brahmin trudged, trailing in the tiger’s wake. And just as they reached the clearing where the tiger had been caged, they crossed the path of a jackal with mottled brown and white fur. The jackal smiled warmly as they approached.

  ‘My dear priest!’ it said. ‘You look so gloomy. Whatever is the matter?’

  The Brahmin explained his wretched story, before the tiger stepped forward.

  ‘Be gone, jackal!’ it roared. ‘This man is my feast, not yours!’

  ‘But,’ the jackal replied, ‘I am very confused. How did this man set you free?’

  Once again, the Brahmin explained what had happened.

  ‘I’m terribly sorry,’ the jackal said. ‘I seem to be going deaf. Did you say cage?’

  ‘YES!’ roared the tiger.

  ‘May I see this cage?’ the jackal replied. ‘Just before you eat him? I do not wish to be trapped too, brother tiger.’

  The tiger agreed and took the jackal to its former prison.

  ‘So, let me see,’ said the jackal. ‘The priest was in the cage and you, brother tiger, happened to walk by …?’

  ‘No, you idiotic, insignificant thing!’ the tiger growled. ‘I was in the cage and the priest walked by!’

  ‘I see,’ the jackal said. ‘So I was in the cage … no, wait. Oh dear, I am so terribly confused! I fear I shall never understand because I am so silly. You enjoy your dinner, brother tiger …’

  ‘You will understand!’ the tiger insisted. ‘I’ll make you understand!’

  ‘But I’m so foolish,’ said the jackal. ‘Are you wise enough to show me?’

  The tiger resisted the temptation to gulp down the idiotic jackal. Instead, he spoke slowly, so that it might finally comprehend.

  ‘Look,’ the tiger said. ‘I am a tiger and I was in the cage …’

  ‘Yes, brother.’

  ‘And he is the Brahmin.’

  ‘Yes, brother, do continue …’

  The tiger nodded towards the trap.

  ‘And that is the cage, you see …?’

  ‘Yes … er … no, actually, I don’t.’

  ‘ARRRRGGHHHHHHH!’ the frustrated tiger bellowed.

  ‘A moment,’ said the jackal. ‘I understand all of that. But how did you get into the cage …’

  ‘The usual way!’ the tiger replied. ‘How else?’

  ‘But what is the usual way, brother?’ the jackal asked. ‘I cannot see how …’

  The tiger, its patience finally gone, exploded in fury. ‘Like this, you utterly ridiculous animal!’

  And into the cage it jumped.

  ‘Oh,’ said the jackal. ‘Now I understand …’

  Quickly, the jackal slammed the cage door shut, holding it until the Brahmin managed to lock it again.

  ‘Perfect,’ the jackal said to the Brahmin. ‘Now, gentle priest, maybe you should run home and ignore any trapped tigers that you come across?’

  The Brahmin, without a single word of thanks, turned and fled for his life. The jackal sighed and walked on through the forest.

  To Catch a Thief

  One afternoon Birbal went strolling through the palace gardens. It was a glorious day, full of sunshine and the chatter of colourfully plumed birds. A gentle breeze cooled the skin and the aroma of spices hung lightly in the air. It was a day to be joyful, a day for celebration.

  Yet on entering the walled courtyard of Akbar’s palace, he discovered one of the emperor’s ministers, Fazal, looking distraught.

  ‘Whatever is the matter?’ Birbal asked.

  Fazal bowed his head. ‘I have been robbed,’ he replied. ‘My apartments were ransacked and everything of value taken.’

  Birbal was stunned. Who would do such a thing at the royal palace? It was unthinkable.

  ‘Let us find the emperor at once,’ Birbal told him. ‘This cannot be allowed to happen!’

  Akbar’s astonishme
nt mirrored that of his best friend and advisor, Birbal.

  ‘Never!’ he bellowed. ‘We shall catch this thief at once!’

  ‘There are no clues to his identity,’ said Fazal. ‘He left nothing behind to give himself away.’

  Birbal nodded. ‘If Your Majesty wishes,’ he said, ‘I can make enquiries.’

  Akbar agreed. ‘Dear Birbal,’ he said, ‘my honour and the honour of my court is at stake. I cannot have my subjects thinking my own palace complex is insecure. Please catch this man quickly.’

  ‘I shall,’ Birbal replied. ‘But in order to catch a thief, I need to think as a thief …’

  Akbar squinted. ‘I do not understand.’

  Birbal dismissed Fazal and leant close to his friend.

  ‘Let me explain,’ he whispered, mindful that his eternal foe, Abdul Qadir, and the other courtiers were close at hand. In order to succeed, Birbal needed utmost secrecy.

  That night, as the moon loomed large and full in the heavens, and everyone else slept, Akbar and Birbal edged their way through the numerous palace buildings. Dressed from head to toe in black cotton, with more black fabric tied round their faces, they resembled thieves themselves.

  ‘This is ridiculous!’ Akbar whispered to Birbal. ‘I have no need to sneak about. I am the emperor.’

  ‘And as emperor, the guards would not question how you found yourself in any of the apartments,’ Birbal explained. ‘We need to work out how the thief managed to get past everyone twice. To do that, we must not be seen either.’

  ‘Twice?’ said Akbar. ‘You mean this man has struck before?’

  Birbal shook his head, pulling Akbar into the shadows just as two guards walked by.

  ‘No,’ said Birbal. ‘I mean he got in and out, without being seen … The palace complex is vast and heavily guarded, so how did he manage such a feat?’

  Akbar nodded, and not for the first time, felt slightly dim in Birbal’s presence. The palace complex was secure, as Birbal had said. There were men at each outer entrance, more men at the door to each building, and yet more who made regular patrols on foot.

  ‘You are far wiser than me, Birbal,’ said Akbar. ‘I am glad that we are friends and not enemies.’

  They waited until the patrol had moved on before creeping towards Fazal’s apartment. On the way, they passed the women’s quarters and several other rooms used by Akbar’s attendants.

  ‘This scoundrel could have seen the women asleep!’ said Akbar. ‘This is terrible!’

  ‘Fear not, my friend,’ said Birbal. ‘We shall have him.’

  At Fazal’s door, Birbal tried the handle. The door, as was the usual practice, had been locked from within. No outsider would have access to the keys. Even the duplicates were kept in the treasury building.

  ‘See if you can find an object with which to unlock the door,’ Birbal said.

  Yet they found nothing. If the thief had entered this way, either he had keys or else had broken the lock. Birbal was already aware it could not have been the latter. The door was not damaged in any way, and Fazal had not reported anything similar.

  ‘Perhaps he came in through the windows?’ Akbar suggested.

  ‘Let us see,’ Birbal replied.

  Once again, they crept back along dark, deserted corridors, dodging past any moonlit windows quickly. Several times they hid in alcoves and shadows, as patrols went by. The only sounds came from outside – the chirping of crickets and the fluttering of giant moths, the hooting of owls, and the distant howling of wolves from deep within the forests. Occasionally green and yellow lizards, no longer than a man’s hand, emerged from their hides to observe Birbal and Akbar’s mission.

  ‘Impossible!’ Akbar said, as they entered the walled courtyard that lay below Fazal’s apartments. ‘No thief could have managed this!’

  Birbal ignored him. Instead he counted openings in the wall, on the same floor as Fazal’s rooms. At six, he was sure he stood directly below Fazal’s windows.

  ‘Can you see a ladder or anything else the thief might have climbed?’ asked Akbar.

  ‘No,’ Birbal replied. ‘There is nothing.’

  Underneath the window, the moon lit the wall brightly. It showed no scratches in the stone where a ladder might have rested. The flagstones were similarly untouched.

  ‘There is nothing to suggest he entered this way either,’ said Birbal. ‘And the window is far too high for him to have jumped up.’

  ‘Then I fear all is lost,’ Akbar replied. ‘I shall, of course, recompense Fazal for his woes, but …’

  ‘Your Majesty,’ Birbal said, ‘this means nothing.’

  ‘Nothing?’

  Birbal nodded. ‘We have simply disproved the notion that our thief was a stranger.’

  Akbar thought for a moment.

  ‘So if he didn’t come from outside the palace …’ Birbal added, nudging Akbar’s thoughts along.

  ‘He must have come from within!’ said Akbar excitedly.

  ‘Our thief is one of us,’ Birbal confirmed.

  The following morning, having barely slept for concern, Akbar ordered every person within the palace complex to the great banqueting hall. Despite its vast interior, even this room could not hold everyone, and many worried subjects stood quietly outside. Inside, Akbar made a declaration. ‘My trusted friend, Birbal, wishes each of you to take part in a test,’ he said. ‘No person shall refuse, no matter what their reason. Is that understood?’

  Inside and out, everyone nodded in consent. The emperor’s advisors stood together but only Abdul Qadir spoke up.

  ‘What can we do to help, Majesty?’ he asked, hopeful of gaining much-needed favour, and desperate to outshine Birbal, whom he despised.

  ‘Birbal will handle everything,’ Akbar told him. ‘Please listen to his every command.’

  A moment later, Birbal appeared, leading a donkey. Akbar’s subjects murmured and whispered, each one confused. Akbar forced himself not to smile. Birbal tied the donkey to a stone pillar, securing its legs so that it could not kick out. Round the donkey, several guards erected a flimsy, wood-framed tent. Once the donkey was out of sight, Birbal spoke to the waiting subjects.

  ‘Each person must go into the tent, lift up the donkey’s tail, and say these words. I HAVE NOT STOLEN. There must be absolutely no exceptions. Is that clear?’

  Once again, everyone nodded, despite a growing sense of nervous bemusement amongst the crowd. Birbal took a seat next to Akbar and waited. Slowly, and one by one, each person entered the tent, before retaking their positions. The entire process took a great deal of time, and Akbar amused himself by taking lunch and, afterwards, asking Birbal to set him riddles. The final one had Akbar mightily perplexed.

  ‘What tastes better than it smells …?’ he asked for the fourth time. ‘The answer could be many things!’

  ‘There is just one answer, my friend,’ said Birbal, yawning. ‘This is taking far too long …’

  ‘A tongue!’ Akbar finally yelled. ‘It’s a tongue!’

  Birbal nodded, as a guard approached them.

  ‘We are finished, Your Majesty,’ the guard said.

  ‘At last!’ said Akbar, turning to his best friend. ‘Go and find me this thief.’

  Birbal hushed the crowd and waited. A few moments later, all were silent.

  ‘What nonsense is this?’ asked Abdul Qadir. ‘What use is a donkey’s tail in any test? Birbal makes fools of us all, I say!’

  ‘SILENCE!’ ordered Akbar. ‘I value your advice, Abdul Qadir, but do not question Birbal. How many times must he prove his worth to you all?’

  Abdul, chastened and defeated once again, slid back amongst the crowd. Birbal cleared his throat. ‘I want every person, here and outside, to raise the hand with which they lifted the donkey’s tail. Just that hand, wide open.’

  He gestured to the guards.

  ‘Find me the person whose fingers are not blackened.’

  For Birbal had painted the underside of the donkey’s tail with black pain
t. The thief, he’d realized, would be the one who did not lift up the donkey’s tail, out of fear or guilt, or both. Very quickly, and to murmurs of shock, a courtier called Alim Khan was dragged before Akbar.

  ‘Here he is, Your Majesty!’

  Akbar ordered the man to show his fingers.

  ‘But, Your Majesty, I …’

  ‘Your hand!’ said Akbar, as the guards drew their swords.

  Alim Khan did as instructed and his hand was clean.

  ‘We have our thief!’ said Birbal.

  As the guards dragged the guilty man away, Akbar asked Birbal what his reward should be.

  ‘I require nothing, Your Majesty,’ Birbal replied. ‘But perhaps it would be wise to give Fazal something for his troubles …?’

  Akbar smiled. ‘It shall be done,’ he said. ‘Now, time for another riddle …’

  With Puffin Classics, the adventure isn’t over when you reach the final page.

  Want to discover more about the people and places that inspired these stories?

  Read on …

  CONTENTS

  WHO’S WHO IN TALES FROM INDIA

  RELIGIONS OF INDIA

  THE MUGHAL EMPIRE

  THE CASTE SYSTEM

  SOME THINGS TO DO …

  GLOSSARY

  WHO’S WHO IN TALES FROM INDIA

  AKBAR AND FRIENDS

  Did you know that the Emperor Akbar, Birbal and Abdul Qadir were real people?

  Akbar (1542–1605)

  The Emperor Akbar’s name was Abu’l-Fath Jalal-ud-din Muhammad Akbar. Akbar means ‘Great’. He is often referred to as Akbar the Great – which means ‘Great the Great’!

  Akbar came to the throne of the Mughal Empire in India when he was thirteen. He was a fine soldier, and conquered lands all across northern and central India. He reformed the way his empire was governed so it worked well, justly and fairly, and tolerated people of many different races and religions. Akbar was brought up as a Sunni Muslim, but during his life he tried to bring Islam, Hinduism, Zoroastrianism and Christianity closer together in a system named Din-i-llahi. This upset some members of the original religions who did not want to accept any changes.