îñ"ò îøëæ ñéôåøé òí åôåì÷ìåø |
C. F. F |
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LITTLE ANKLEBONE[1]
NCE upon a time there was
a little boy who lost his parents; so he went to live with his Auntie,[2] and she set him to herd sheep.
All day long the little fellow wandered barefoot through the pathless plain,
tending his flock, and playing his tiny shepherd's pipe from morn till eve.
But one day came a great
big wolf, and looked hungrily at the small shepherd and his fat sheep, saying,
'Little boy! shall I eat you or your sheep?'
Then the little boy
answered politely, 'I don't know, Mr. Wolf; I must ask my Auntie.'
So all day long he piped
away on his tiny pipe, and in the evening, when he brought the flock home, he
went to his Auntie and said, 'Auntie dear, a great big wolf asked me to-day if
he should eat me, or your sheep. Which shall it be?'
Then his Auntie looked at
the wee little shepherd, and at the fat flock, and said sharply, 'Which shall
it be?–why, you, of course!'
So next morning the
little boy drove his flock out into the pathless plain, and blew away
cheerfully on his shepherd's pipe until the great big wolf appeared. Then he
laid aside his pipe, and, going up to the savage beast, said, 'Oh, if you
please, Mr. Wolf, I asked my Auntie, and she says you are to eat me.'
Now the wolf, savage as
wolves always are, could not help having just a spark of pity for the tiny
barefoot shepherd who played his pipe so sweetly, therefore he said kindly,
'Could I do anything for you, little boy, after I've eaten you?'
'Thank you!' returned the
tiny shepherd. 'If you would be so kind, after you've picked the bones, as to
thread my anklebone on a string and hang it on the tree that weeps over the pond
yonder,[3] I shall be much obliged.'
So the wolf ate the
little shepherd, picked the bones, and afterwards hung the anklebone by a
string to the branches of the tree, where it danced and swung in the sunlight.
Now, one day, three
robbers, who had just robbed a palace, happening to pass that way, sat down
under the tree and began to divide the spoil. Just as they had arranged all the
golden dishes and precious jewels and costly stuffs into three heaps, a jackal howled.[4] Now you must know that
thieves always use the jackal's cry as a note of warning, so that when at the
very same moment Little Anklebone's thread snapped, and he fell plump on the
head of the chief robber, the man imagined some one had thrown a pebble at him,
and, shouting 'Run! run!–we are discovered!' he bolted away as hard as he
could, followed by his companions, leaving all the treasure behind them.
'Now,' said Little
Anklebone to himself, 'I shall lead a fine life!'
So he gathered the
treasure together, and sat under the tree that drooped over the pond, and
played so sweetly on a new shepherd's pipe, that all the beasts of the forest,
and the birds of the air, and the fishes of the pond came to listen to him.
Then Little Anklebone put marble basins[5] round the pond for the
animals to drink out of, and in the evening the does, and the tigresses, and
the she-wolves gathered round him to be milked, and when he had drunk his fill
he milked the rest into the pond, till at last it became a pond of milk. And
Little Anklebone sat by the milken pond and piped away on his shepherd's pipe.
Now, one day, an old
woman, passing by with her jar for water, heard the sweet strains of Little
Anklebone's pipe, and following the sound, came upon the pond of milk, and saw
the animals, and the birds, and the fishes, listening to the music. She was
wonderstruck, especially when Little Anklebone, from his seat under the tree,
called out, 'Fill your jar, mother! All drink who come hither!'
Then the old woman filled
her jar with milk, and went on her way rejoicing at her good fortune. But as she
journeyed she met with the King of that country, who, having been a-hunting,
had lost his way in the pathless plain.
'Give me a drink of
water, good mother,' he cried, seeing the jar; 'I am half dead with thirst!'
'It is milk, my son,'
replied the old woman ; 'I got it yonder from a milken pond.' Then she told the
King of the wonders she had seen, so that he resolved to have a peep at them
himself. And when he saw the milken pond, and all the animals and birds and
fishes gathered round, while Little Anklebone played ever so sweetly on his
shepherd's pipe, he said, 'I must have the tiny piper, if I die for it!'
No sooner did Little
Anklebone hear these words than he set off at a run, and the King after him.
Never was there such a chase before or since, for Little Anklebone hid himself
amid the thickest briars and thorns, and the King was so determined to have the
tiny piper, that he did not care for scratches. At last the King was
successful, but no sooner did he take hold of Little Anklebone than the clouds
above began to thunder and lighten horribly, and from below came the lowing of
many does, and louder than all came the voice of the little piper himself
singing these words–
'O clouds why should you strom and flare?
Poor Anklebone is forced to roam.
O does! Why wait the milker's care?
Poor
Anklebone must leave his
home.'[6]
And he sang so piercingly
sweet that pity filled the King's heart, especially when he saw it was nothing
but a bone after all. So he let it go again, and the little piper went back to
his seat under the tree by the pond; and there he sits still, and plays his
shepherd's pipe, while all the beasts of the forest, and birds of the air, and
fishes of the pond, gather round and listen to his music. And sometimes, people
wandering through the pathless plain hear the pipe, and then they say, 'That is
Little Anklebone, who was eaten by a wolf ages ago!'
[1] This tale appears to be unique among
Indian folk-tales, and is comparable with Grimm's Singing Bone. It is current
in the Bâr or wilds of the Gujrânwâlâ District,
among the cattle-drover's children. Wolves are very common there, and the story
seems to point to a belief in some invisible shepherd, a sort of Spirit of the
Bâr, whose pipe may be heard. The word used for 'Little Anklebone' was Gîrî,
a diminutive form of the common word gittâ. In the course of the
story in the original, Little Anklebone calls himself Gitetâ Râm,
an interesting instance of the process of the formation of Panjâbî
proper names.
[2] Mâsî, maternal aunt.
[3] Ban, i.e. Salvadora oleoides, a common tree of the Panjâb
forests.
[4] A common evil omen.
[5] The word used was daurâ, a
wide-mouthed earthen vessel, and also in palaces a marble drinking-trough for
animals.
[6] The original and literal translation are
as follows–
Kyûn
garjâe badalâ garkanâe?
Gaj karak sâre des;
Ohnân hirnîân de than pasmâe:
Gitetâ Râm gîâ pardes!
Why
echo, O thundering clouds?
Roar and echo through all the land;
The teats of the does yonder are full of milk:
Gitetâ Râm has gone abroad!