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Title: Brave Hiralalbasa Author: Anonymous [More Titles by Anonymous] Brave Hírálálbásá
So the Rájá believed her, and had a great hole dug just outside his kingdom, into which he put the seven Ránís with their children, and then he sent a sepoy to them and bade him take out all the Ránís' eyes, and bring them to him. This the sepoy did. After a time the poor Ránís grew so hungry that six of them ate their children, but the seventh Rání, who was the youngest of them all, declared she would never eat her child though she might die of hunger, "for," she said, "I love him a great deal too much." God was very pleased with the seventh Rání for this, and so every day he sent her a little food, which she divided with the other Ránís. And every day her little boy grew bigger, and bigger, and bigger, until he had become a strong lad, when, as he thought it was very dark in the hole, he climbed out of it and looked all about. Then he came back to his mothers (for he called all the seven Ránís "Mother" now), who told him he was not to clamber up out of the hole any more, for if he did, some one might kill him. "Still, if you will go," they added, "do not go to your father's kingdom, but stay near this place." The boy said, "Very well," and every day he climbed out of the hole and only went where his seven mothers told him he might go, and he used to beg the people about to give him a little rice, and flour and bread, which they did. One day he said to his mothers, "If you let me go now to my father's kingdom, I will go." "Well, you may go," they said; "but come back again soon." This he promised to do, and he went to his father's kingdom. For some time he stood daily at the door of his father's palace and then returned to the hole. One day the Rakshas-Rání was standing in the verandah, and she thought, "I am sure that is the Rájá's son." The servants every day asked the boy, "Why do you always stand at the door of the palace?" "I want service with the Rájá," he would reply. "If the Rájá has any place he can give me, I will take it." The Rakshas-Rání said to the Rájá, "The boy standing out there wants service. May I take him into mine?" The Rájá answered, "Very well, send for him." So all the servants ran and fetched the boy. The Rakshas-Rání asked him, "Are you willing to do anything I tell you?" The boy said, "Yes." "Then you shall be my servant," she said, and first she told him he must go to the Rakshas country to fetch some rose-water for her. "I will give you a letter," she said, "so that no harm may happen to you." The lad answered, "Very well, only you must give me three shields full of money." She gave him the three shields full of money, and he took them and went home to his mothers. Then he got two servants for them, one to take care of them, and one to go to the bazar. His mothers gave him food for the journey, and he left them the remainder of his money, telling them to take great care of it. He then returned to the Rakshas-Rání for his letter. She told the Rájá she was feeling ill, and would not be quite well until she got some rose-water from the Rakshas country. The Rájá said, "Then you had better send this boy for it." So she gave him a letter, in which she had written, "When this boy arrives among you, kill him and eat him instantly," and he set out at once. He went on and on till he came to a great river in which lived a huge water-snake. When the water-snake saw him it began to weep very much, and cried out to the boy, "If you go to the Rakshas country you will be eaten up." The lad, whose name was Hírálálbásá, said, "I cannot help it; I am the Rání's servant, so I must do what she tells me." "Well," said the water-snake, "get on my back, and I will take you across this river." So he got on the water-snake's back, and it took him over the river. Then Hírálálbásá went on and on until he came to a house in which a Rakshas lived. A Rání lived there too that the Rakshas had carried off from her father and mother when she was a little girl. She was playing in her father the Sondarbásá Rájá's garden, which was full of delicious fruits, which the Rakshas came to eat, and when he saw Sonahrí Rání he seized her in his mouth and ran off with her. Only she was so beautiful he could never find it in his heart to eat her, but brought her up as his own child. Her name was Sonahrí Rání, that is, the Golden Rání, because her teeth and her hair were made of gold. Now the Rakshas who had carried her off, and whom she called Papa, had a great thick stick, and when he laid this stick at her feet she could not stir, but when he laid it at her head, she could move again. When the Rájá's son came up, Sonahrí Rání was lying on her bed with the thick stick at her feet, and as soon as she saw the Rájá's son she began to cry very much. "Oh, why have you come here? You will surely be killed," she said. The Rájá's son answered, "I cannot help that. I am the Rání's servant, so I must do what she tells me." "Of course," said Sonahrí Rání; "but put this stick at my head, and then I shall be able to move." The Rájá's son laid the stick at her head, and she got up and gave him some food, and then asked him if he had a letter. "Yes," he answered. "Let me see it," said the Sonahrí Rání. So he gave her the letter, and when she had read it she cried, "Oh, this is a very wicked letter. It will bring you no good; for if the Rakshases see it, they will kill you." "Indeed," said Hírálálbásá. And the Sonahrí Rání tore up the letter and wrote another in which she said, "Make much of this boy. Send him home quickly, and give him a jug of rose-water to bring back with him, and see that he gets no hurt." Then the Rájá's son set out again for the Rakshas-Rání's mother's house. He had not gone very far when he met a very big Rakshas, and he cried out to him, "Uncle." "Who is this boy," said the Rakshas, "who calls me uncle?" And he was just going to kill him when Hírálálbásá showed his letter, and the Rakshas let him pass on. He went a little further until he met another Rakshas, bigger than the first, and the Rakshas screamed at him and was just going to fall on him and kill him, but the Rájá's son showed the letter, and the Rakshas let him pass unhurt. When Hírálálbásá came to the Rakshas-Rání's mother he showed her the letter, and she gave him the rose-water at once and sent him off. All the Rakshases were very good to him, and some carried him part of the way home. When he came to Sonahrí Rání's house she was lying on her bed with the stick at her feet, and as soon as she saw Hírálálbásá she laughed and said, "Oh, you have come back again? Put this stick at my head." "Yes," said the Rájá's son, "I've come back again, but I was dreadfully frightened very often." Then he put the stick at her head, and she gave him some food to eat. After he had eaten it he went on again, and when he came to the river the water-snake carried him across to the other side, and he travelled to his father's kingdom. There he went to the Rakshas-Rání and gave her the rose-water. She was very angry at seeing him, and said, "I'm sure my father and my mother, my brothers and my sisters, don't love me one bit." And she said to Hírálálbásá, "You must go to-morrow to the Rakshas kingdom to fetch me flowers." "I will go," said Hírálál, "but this time I must have four shields full of rupees." The Rakshas-Rání gave him the four shields full of rupees; and the Rájá's son went to his mother's hole and bought a quantity of food for them, enough to last them all the time he should be away, and he hired two servants for them, and said good-bye to his seven mothers and returned to Mánikbásá's palace for his letter. This the Rakshas-Rání gave him, and in it she wrote, "Kill him and eat him at once. If you do not, and you send him back to me, I will never see your faces again." Hírálál took his letters and went on his way. When he reached the river the water-snake took him across to the other side, and he walked on till he came to Sonahrí Rání's house. She was lying on the bed with the stick at her feet. "Oh, why have you come here again?" she said. "How can I help coming?" said the Rájá's son. "I must do what my mistress bids me." "So you must," said the Sonahrí Rání; "but put this stick at my head." This he did, and she got up and gave him food, and asked him to let her see his letter, and when she had read it she cried, "This is a very wicked letter. If you take it with you, you will surely die." Then she tore up the letter and burnt it, and wrote another in which she said, "You must all be very good to this boy. Show him all the gardens and see that he is not hurt in any way." She gave it to Hírálál, and he begged her to ask the Rakshas, her father, where he kept his soul. Sonahrí Rání promised she would. She then turned Hírálál into a little fly, and put him into a tiny box, and put the box under her pillow. When the Rakshas came home he began sniffing about and said, "Surely there is a man here." "Oh, no," said Sonahrí Rání; "no one is here but me." The Rakshas was satisfied. When Sonahrí Rání and her father were in bed she asked, "Papa, where is your soul?" "Why do you want to know?" said the Rakshas. "I will tell you another day." The next day at nine in the morning the Rakshas went away, and Sonahrí Rání took Hírálál and restored him to his human shape, and gave him some food, and he travelled on till he reached the Rakshas-Rání's mother, whom he called Grannie. She welcomed him very kindly and showed him the garden, which was very large. The Rájá's son noticed a number of jugs and water-jars. So he said, "Grannie, what is there in all these jars and jugs?" She answered, showing them to him one by one, "In this is such and such a thing," and so on, telling him the contents of each, till she came to the water-jar in which were his mothers' eyes. "In this jar," said the Rakshas, "are your seven mothers' eyes." "Oh, grannie dear!" said Hírálál, "give me my mothers' eyes." "Very well, dear boy," said the old Rakshas, "you shall have them." She gave him, too, some ointment, and told him to rub the eyes with it when he put them into his mothers' heads, and that then they would see quite well; and he took the eyes and tied them up in a corner of his cloth. His grannie gave him the flowers, and he went back to Sonahrí Rání. She was lying on her bed with the stick at her feet, and when she saw him she laughed and said, "Oh, so you have come back again?" "Yes, I have," said Hírálál; "and I have got the flowers, and my seven mothers' eyes too." "Have you indeed?" said Sonahrí Rání. "Put this stick at my head." He did so, and she got up and gave him some food, and he told her to ask her father the Rakshas where his soul was. She promised she would, and she changed him into a little fly, and shut him up in a tiny box, and put the tiny box under her pillow. By and by home came the Rakshas, and began to sniff about crying, "A man is here!" "Oh, no," said Sonahrí Rání; and she gave him some dinner, and when they were in bed she asked him, "Papa, where is your soul?" "I'll tell you another day," said the Rakshas. The next day, when he had gone out to find food, Sonahrí Rání took the little fly, Hírálál, and restored him to his human shape, and gave him some food and sent him on his way. When he reached the river, the water-snake took him over to the other side, and he journeyed on till he came to his father's kingdom. First he went to his mothers' hole and gave them their fourteen eyes, and he put them into their heads with the ointment which the Rakshas-grannie had given him. Then he went to Mánikbásá Rájá's palace, and when the Rakshas-Rání saw him she was furious. "I am sure my father and my mother, my sisters and my brothers, do not love me one bit. I will never see their faces again. But I'll send him to them once more." This is what she thought, but she took the flowers and said, "You must go a third time to the Rakshas country." "I will," said the boy: "only I'll not go till the fourth day from to-day, for I am very tired. And you must give me four shields full of rupees." "Good," said the Rakshas-Rání. "This time you must get me a sárí."[1] And she gave him the four shields full of money. Then he went to his mothers, and bought them a house and got food for them, and stayed with them four days. At the end of the four days he went to the Rakshas-Rání, who gave him a letter in which she had written, "If you do not kill and eat this boy as soon as he arrives, I will never see your faces again." The Rájá's son took the letter and set out on his journey. When he came to the river, the water-snake took him across; and when he arrived at Sonahrí Rání's house, there she was lying on her bed with the thick stick at her feet. She said, "Oh, you have come here again, have you?" "Yes," he said, "I have come for the last time." "Put the stick at my head," said she. So he laid the stick at her head. Then she gave him some food, and just before the Rakshas came home, he bade her ask him where he kept his soul. When she saw him coming, Sonahrí Rání turned Hírálálbásá into a little fly, put him in a tiny box, and put the box under her pillow. As soon as she and the Rakshas had gone to bed, she asked him, "Papa, where do you keep your soul?" "Sixteen miles away from this place," said he, "is a tree. Round the tree are tigers, and bears, and scorpions, and snakes; on the top of the tree is a very great fat snake; on his head is a little cage; in the cage is a bird; and my soul is in that bird." The little fly listened all the time. The next morning, when the Rakshas had gone, Sonahrí Rání took the fly and gave him back his human form, gave him some food, and then asked to see his letter. When she had read it she screamed and said, "Oh! if you go with this letter you will surely die." So she tore it up into little bits and threw it into the fire. And she wrote another in which she said, "Make a great deal of this boy; see that he gets no hurt; give him the sárí for me; show him the garden; and be very kind to him." She then gave Hírálál the letter, and he journeyed on in safety till he reached his Rakshas-grannie's house. The Rakshas-grannie was very good to him; showed him the garden, and gave him the sárí; and he then said his mother, the Rakshas-Rání, was in great trouble about her soul, and wanted very much to have it. So the Rakshas-grannie gave him a bird in which was the Rakshas-Rání's soul, charging him to take the greatest care of it. Then he said, "My mother, the Rakshas-Rání, also wants a stone such that, if you lay it on the ground, or if you put it in your clothes, it will become gold, and also your long heavy gold necklace that hangs down to the waist." Both these things the Rakshas-grannie gave to Hírálál. Then he returned to Sonahrí Rání's house, where he found her lying on her bed with the thick stick at her feet. "Oh, there you are," said Sonahrí Rání, laughing. "Yes," he said, "I have come." And he put the stick at her head, and she got up and gave him some food. He told her he was going to fetch her Rakshas-father's soul, but that he did not quite know how to pass through the tigers and bears, and scorpions and snakes, that guarded it. So she gave him a feather, and said, "As long as you hold this feather straight, you can come to no harm, for you will be invisible. You will see everything, but nothing will see you." He carried the feather straight as she had bidden him and reached the tree in safety. Then he climbed up it, took the little cage, and came down again. Though the Rakshas was far off, he knew at once something had happened to his bird. Hírálál pulled off the bird's right leg, and the Rakshas' right leg fell off, but on he hopped on one leg. Then the Rájá's son pulled off the bird's left leg, and off fell the Rakshas' left leg, but still he went on towards his house on his hands. Then Hírálál pulled off the bird's wings, and the Rakshas' two arms fell off. And then, just as the Rakshas reached the door of his house, Hírálál wrung the bird's neck, and the Rakshas fell dead. Sonahrí Rání was greatly frightened when she heard such a heavy thing fall thump on the ground so close to the house, but she could not move, for the thick stick lay at her feet. Hírálál ran as fast as he could to Sonahrí Rání. When he arrived at the door of her house he saw the Rakshas lying dead, and he went in and told Sonahrí Rání that her Rakshas-father was killed. "Nonsense," she said. "It is true," said Hírálál; "come and see." So he put the stick at her head. "I am sure you are telling a lie," said Sonahrí Rání. "I should be very glad if he were dead, for I do not like living with him, I am so afraid of him." "Indeed he's dead. Do come and see," said Hírálál. Then they went outside, and when Sonahrí Rání saw her Rakshas-father lying there dead, she was exceedingly happy, and said to Hírálál, "I will go home with you, and be your wife." So they were married, and then they went into Sonahrí Rání's Rakshas-father's house and took all the money and jewels they could find. And Hírálál gave the sárí, the stone, and the necklace to Sonahrí Rání, and he took some flowers for the Rakshas-Rání. When they came to the river, the water-snake carried them across to the other side, and they travelled on till they came to Mánikbásá Rájá's kingdom. There Hírálál went first of all to his mothers, and when they saw Sonahrí Rání they wondered who the beautiful woman could be that their son had brought home. He said to them, "This is Sonahrí Rání, my wife. But for her I should have died." Then he bought a grand house for Sonahrí Rání and his seven mothers to live in, and he got four servants for Sonahrí Rání, two to cook, and two to wait on her. The seven mothers and Sonahrí used all to sit on a beautiful, clean quilted cushion, as big as a carpet, Sonahrí Rání in the middle and the seven mothers round her, while they sewed, or wrote, and talked. Hírálál then went to the Rakshas-Rání and said, "I could not get the sárí you sent me for, so I brought you these flowers instead." When she saw the flowers she was frantic. She said, "My father, my mother, my sisters, my brothers, don't care for me, not one bit! not one scrap! I will never see their faces again--never! never! I will send some other messenger to them." One day the Rájá's son came to Mánikbásá and said, "Would you like to see a grand sight?" Mánikbásá Rájá said, "What sight?" Hírálál said, "If you would like to see a really grand sight you must do what I tell you." "Good," answered Mánikbásá, "I will do whatever you tell me." "Well, then," said his son, "you must build a very strong iron house, and round it you must lay heaps of wood. In that house you must put your present Rání." So Mánikbásá Rájá had a very strong iron house built, round which he set walls of wood. Then he went to his Rakshas-Rání and said, "Will you go inside that iron house, and see what it is like?" "Yes, I will," answered she. The Rájá had had great venetians made for the house, and only one door. As soon as the Rakshas-Rání had gone in, he locked the door. Then Hírálál took the little bird, a cockatoo, in which was the Rakshas-Rání's soul, and showed it to the Rakshas-Rání from afar off. When she saw it she turned herself into a huge Rakshas as big as a house. She could not turn in the iron house because she was so huge. Mánikbásá was dreadfully frightened when he saw his Rání was a horrible Rakshas. Then Hírálál pulled off the bird's legs, and as the Rakshas was breaking through the iron house to seize Hírálál, he wrung the cockatoo's neck, and the Rakshas died instantly. They set fire to the walls of wood, and the body of the wicked Rakshas was burnt to fine ashes. The Rájá's Wazír turned to the Rájá and said, "What a fool you were to marry this Rakshas, and at her bidding to send your seven wives and your seven sons away into the jungle, taking out your seven wives' eyes, and being altogether so cruel to them! You are a great, great fool!" The poor Rájá wept, and then the Wazír, pointing to Hírálál, said, "This is your seventh and youngest Rání's son." The Rájá then embraced Hírálálbásá and asked his forgiveness. And Hírálál told him his story, how he and his mothers had lived a long, long time in the hole; how six of the Ránís had eaten their children; how his mother had not had the heart to eat him; how he had got his seven mothers' eyes from the Rakshas-grannie; and lastly, how he had married Sonahrí Rání. Then the Rájá ordered seven litters for his seven Ránís, and a beautiful litter with rich cloth for Sonahrí Rání. The Rájá and his Wazír and his attendants, and his son, all went with the litters to Hírálál's house; and when the Rájá saw Sonahrí Rání he fell flat on his face, he was so struck by her beauty. For she had a fair, fair skin, rosy cheeks, blue eyes, rosy lips, golden eyelashes, and golden eyebrows, and golden hair. When she combed her hair, she used to put the hair she combed out in paper and to lay the paper on the river, and it floated down to where the poor people caught it, and sold it, and got heaps of money for it. Her sárí was of gold, her shoes were of gold, for God loved her dearly. Then the Rájá rose and embraced all his wives and Sonahrí Rání, and the seven Ránís walked into the seven litters; but Sonahrí Rání was carried to hers, for fear she should soil her feet, or get hurt. Then Mánikbásá Rájá gave Hírálál's house to his Wazír, while his seven Ránís and Hírálál and Sonahrí Rání lived with him in his palace. And they lived happily for ever after. Told by Dunkní at Simla, 26th July and 1st August, 1876. FOOTNOTE: [1] A long piece of stuff which Hindú women wind round the body as a petticoat, passing one end over the head, like a veil.
FAIRY TALE TRANSLATED BY MAIVE STOKES. WITH NOTES BY MARY STOKES BRAVE HÍRÁLÁLBÁSÁ. 1. With this story all through compare "The Demon is at last conquered by the King's Son," p. 173 of this collection. 2. Rakshas means protector, and is, probably, an euphemistic term. The chapter on Mystic Animals in Swedish traditions (Thorpe's _Northern Mythology_, vol. II. p. 83) gives a list of certain creatures that are not to be mentioned by their own but by euphemistic names for fear of incurring their wrath. This belief, Thorpe in the same chapter, p. 84, says, extends to certain inanimate things: water used for brewing, for instance, must not be called _vatn_ (water) or the beer will not be so good; and fire occasionally is to be spoken of as _hetta_ (heat). The girl in an Esthonian tale quoted by Gubernatis at p. 151 of the 1st vol. of his _Zoological Mythology_ addresses a crow whose help she needs as "Bird of light." Fiske says (_Myths and Mythmakers_, p. 223), "A Dayak will not allude by name to the small-pox, but will call it 'The chief' or 'Jungle leaves;' the Laplander speaks of the bear as 'the old man with the fur coat;' in Annam the tiger is called 'Grandfather,' or 'Lord.' The Finnish hunters called the bear 'the Apple of the Forest, the beautiful Honey-claw, the Pride of the thicket'" ("The Mythology of Finnland," _Fraser's Magazine_, May 1857). The Furies, as every one knows, were called the Eumenides, or the gracious ones. The Rakshases are a kind of huge demons who delight in devouring men and beasts. They can take any shape they please. The female Rakshas often assumes that of a beautiful woman. Compare the demon Mara as described by Fiske at p. 93 of his book above quoted. The Rakshases do not travel in the way mortals do. See a Dinájpur story told by Mr. G. H. Damant in the _Indian Antiquary_ (February 1875, vol. IV. p. 54), where the hero, who has married both the Rakshas-king's daughter and his niece, asks his father-in-law's leave to return home with his Rakshas-wives. The King consents (p. 58), but says, "We Rakshases do not travel in pálkís (palanquins), but in the air." Accordingly the prince, his two Rakshas wives and his mortal wife, all travel towards his father's country through the air "along the sky." One kind of jinn travel in the same way (Lane's _Arabian Nights_, vol. I., "Notes to Introduction," p. 29). So do the drakes and kobolds in Northern Germany. The drake is as big as a cauldron, "a person may sit in him," and travel with him to any spot he pleases. Both drakes and kobolds look like fiery stripes. The kobolds appear sometimes as a blue, sometimes as a red, stripe passing through the air (Thorpe's _Northern Mythology_, vol. III. pp. 155, 156). 3. Dunkní says, "All Rakshases keep their souls in birds." Those that do so resemble in this respect some of the Indian demons, and the giants, trolls, and such like noxious actors in the Norse, Scotch, and other popular tales. Tylor (_Primitive Culture_, vol. II. pp. 152, 153) mentions the Tatar story of the giant who could not be killed till the twelve-headed snake in which he kept his soul was destroyed. This tale, he says, "illustrates the idea of soul-embodiment," and "very likely" indicates the sense of the myths where giants, &c., keep their souls out of their own bodies. The civilized notion of soul-embodiment, he adds (quoting from "Grose's bantering description of the art of laying ghosts in the last century,") is that of conjuring ghosts into different objects: "one of the many good instances of articles of savage belief serving as jests among civilized men." Possibly these giants, trolls, rakshases, demons, once belonged to that class of spirits who could, in popular belief, enter at pleasure into stocks and stones and other objects of idolatrous veneration. But all Rakshases do not keep their souls in birds. Some have their souls in bees (see a Dinájpur tale published by Mr. G. H. Damant in the _Indian Antiquary_ for April 6, 1872, p. 115): and in another Dinájpur story printed by Mr. Damant in the _Indian Antiquary_ for June 7, 1872, p. 120, a whole tribe of Rakshases dwelling in Ceylon kept theirs in one and the same lemon. 4. In the first quoted of these stories collected by Mr. Damant, that where the Rakshases keep their life in bees, the hero is a prince who starts in search of the wonderful tree mentioned in paragraph 8 of the note to Phúlmati Rání (p. 244). In his wanderings he finds himself in the Rakshas country. There he meets with the woman who when cut up turns into the tree he seeks. When he first sees her she lies dead on a bed with a golden wand on one side of her, and a silver wand on the other. He accidentally touches her with the golden wand and she wakes. She tells him the Rakshases, every morning when they go out in search of food, make her dead by touching her with the silver wand, and wake her with the golden wand when they return at night. Mr. Damant has another story in the _Indian Antiquary_ (July 5, 1872, vol. I. p. 219), from Dinájpur, in which there is a prince Dalim who dies and is laid in a tomb above ground, not buried. Daily the Apsarases, the dancing-girls in the court of Indra, wake him from death by touching his face with a golden wand, and make him dead again by touching him with a silver wand. These wands they always leave lying beside him. His wife comes one day to mourn over him and accidentally discovers the secret of bringing him to life. He is, finally, restored to her by the Apsarases. 5. According to Gubernatis, "three and seven are sacred numbers in Aryan faith" (_Zoological Mythology_, vol. I. p. 6). 6. Hírálálbásá addresses the Rakshas as "uncle." The two brothers Kanran and Guja (in a Santálí fairy tale bearing their name printed by the Rev. F. T. Cole in the _Indian Antiquary_, September 1875, vol. IV. p. 257), address a tiger by the same propitiatory title. The tiger in return addresses them as nephews, and gives them the fire they want. "Uncle" and "aunt" are used in a propitiatory sense over a great part of the world. Hunt at p. 6 of his introduction to the _Romances and Drolls of the West of England_ says, "Uncle is a term of respect, which was very commonly applied to aged men by their juniors in Cornwall. Aunt ... was used in the same manner when addressing aged women." "Mon oncle" and "ma tante" are sometimes used in the same way in France. Fiske in his _Myths and Mythmakers_, pp. 166, 167, tells how the Zulu solar hero Uthlakanyana outwits a cannibal: in this story the hero addresses the cannibal as "uncle," and the cannibal in return calls him "child of my sister." Fiske, quoting from Dr. Callaway, at p. 166, says, "It is perfectly clear that the cannibals of the Zulu legends are not common men; they are magnified into giants and magicians; they are remarkably swift and enduring; fierce and terrible warriors." In the Hottentot story of the "Lion who took a woman's shape," the lion and the woman address each other as "my aunt," and "my uncle" (Bleek's _Hottentot Fables and Tales_, pp. 51, 52). In Siberia the Yakuts worship the bear under the name of their "beloved uncle" (Tylor's _Primitive Culture_, vol. II. p. 231); and when the Russian peasant calls on the dreaded Lyeshy to appear he cries, "Uncle Lyeshy" (Ralston's _Songs of the Russian people_, p. 159). "Grannie" is the word used by Dunkní herself. 7. The Rakshas queen is tricked to her death in the same way as the wicked step-mother in the "Pomegranate King," p. 12 of this collection.
Bél, a fruit; Ægle marmelos. Bulbul, a kind of nightingale. Chaprásí, a messenger wearing a badge (chaprás). Cooly (Tamil kúli), a labourer in the fields; also a porter. Dál, a kind of pulse; Phaseolus aureus, according to Wilson; Paspalum frumentaceum, according to Forbes. Dom (the d is lingual), a low-caste Hindú. Fakír, a Muhammadan religious mendicant. Ghee (ghí), butter boiled and then set to cool. Kází, a Muhammadan Judge. Kotwál, the chief police officer in a town. Líchí, a fruit; Scytalia litchi, Roxb. Mahárájá (properly Maháráj), literally great king. Mahárání, literally great queen. Mainá, a kind of starling. Maund (man), a measure of weight, about 87 lb. Mohur (muhar), a gold coin worth 16 rupees. Nautch (nátya), a union of song, dance, and instrumental music. Pálkí, a palanquin. Pice (paisa), a small copper coin. Pilau, a dish made of either chicken or mutton, and rice. Rájá, a king. Rakshas, a kind of demon that eats men and beasts. Rání, a queen. Rohú, a kind of big fish. Rupee (rúpíya), a silver coin, now worth about twenty pence. Ryot (ràíyat), a cultivator. Sarai, a walled enclosure containing small houses for the use of travellers. Sárí, a long piece of stuff which Hindú women wind round the body as a petticoat, passing one end over the head. Sepoy (sipáhí), a soldier. Wazír, prime minister. Yogí, a Hindú religious mendicant. [The end] GO TO TOP OF SCREEN |