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מס"ע מרכז סיפורי עם ופולקלור |
C. F. F |
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HOW RAJA
RASÂLU WAS BORN[1]
NCE there lived a great
Raja, whose name was Sâlbâhan, and he had two Queens. Now the
elder, by name Queen Achhrâ, had a fair young son called Prince
Pûran; but the younger, by name Lonâ,[2] though she wept and prayed
at many a shrine, had never a child to gladden her eyes. So, being a bad,
deceitful woman, envy and rage took possession of her heart, and she so
poisoned Raja Sâlbâhan's mind against his son, young Pûran,
that just as the Prince was growing to manhood, his father became madly jealous
of him, and in a fit of anger ordered his hands and feet to be cut off. Not
content even with this cruelty, Raja Sâlbâhan had the poor young
man thrown into a deep well.[3] Nevertheless, Pûran
did not die, as no doubt the enraged father hoped and expected; for God
preserved the innocent Prince, so that he lived on, miraculously, at the bottom
of the well, until, years after, the great and holy Guru
Goraknâth[4] came to the place, and
finding Prince Pûran still alive, not only released him from his dreadful
prison, but, by the power of magic, restored his hands and feet. Then
Pûran, in gratitude for this great boon, became a faqîr, and
placing the sacred earrings in his ears, followed Goraknâth as a
disciple, and was called Pûran Bhagat.[5]
But
as time went by, his heart yearned to see his mother's face, so Guru
Goraknâth gave him leave to visit his native town, and Pûran Bhagat
journeyed thither and took up his abode in a large walled garden, where he had
often played as a child. And, lo! he found it neglected and barren, so that his
heart became sad when he saw the broken watercourses and the withered trees.
Then he sprinkled the dry ground with water from his drinking vessel, and
prayed that all might become green again. And, lo! even as he prayed, the trees
shot forth leaves, the grass grew, the flowers bloomed, and all was as it had
once been.
The
news of this marvellous thing spread fast through the city, and all the world
went out to see the holy man who had performed the wonder. Even the Raja
Sâlbâhan and his two Queens heard of it in the palace, and they too
went to the garden to see it with their own eyes. But Pûran Bhagat's
mother, Queen Achhrâ, had wept so long for her darling, that the tears
had blinded her eyes, and so she went, not to see, but to ask the
wonder-working faqîr to restore her sight. Therefore, little
knowing from whom she asked the boon, she fell on the ground before Pûran
Bhagat, begging him to cure her; and, lo! almost before she asked, it was done,
and she saw plainly.
Then
deceitful Queen Lonâ, who all these years had been longing vainly for a
son, when she saw what mighty power the unknown faqîr possessed,
fell on the ground also, and begged for an heir to gladden the heart of Raja
Sâlbâhan.
Then
Pûran Bhagat spoke, and his voice was stern,–'Raja Sâlbâhan
already has a son. Where is he? What have you done with him? Speak truth, Queen
Lonâ, if you would find favour with God!'
Then
the woman's great longing for a son conquered her pride, and though her husband
stood by, she humbled herself before the faqîr and told the
truth,–how she had deceived the father and destroyed the son.
Then
Pûran Bhagat rose to his feet, stretched out his hands towards her, and a
smile was on his face, as he said softly, 'Even so, Queen Lonâ! even so!
And behold! I am Prince Pûran, whom you destroyed and God
delivered! I have a message for you. Your fault is forgiven, but not forgotten;
you shall indeed bear a son, who shall be brave and good, yet will he cause you
to weep tears as bitter as those my mother wept for me. So! take this grain of
rice; eat it, and you shall bear a son that will be no son to you, for even as
I was reft from my mother's eyes, so will he be reft from yours. Go in peace;
your fault is forgiven, but not forgotten!'
Queen
Lonâ returned to the palace, and when the time for the birth of the
promised son drew nigh, she inquired of three Jôgis who came begging to
her gate, what the child's fate would be, and the youngest of them answered and
said, 'O Queen, the child will be a boy, and he will live to be a great man.
But for twelve years you must not look upon his face, for if either you or his
father see it before the twelve years are past, you will surely die! This is what
you must do,–as soon as the child is born you must send him away to a cellar
underneath the ground, and never let him see the light of day for twelve years.
After they are over, he may come forth, bathe in the river, put on new clothes,
and visit you. His name shall be Raja Rasâlu, and he shall be known far
and wide.'
So,
when a fair young Prince was in due time born into the world, his parents hid
him away in an underground palace, with nurses, and servants, and everything
else a King's son might desire. And with him they sent a young colt, born the
same day, and a sword, a spear, and a shield, against the day when Raja
Rasâlu should go forth into the world.
So there the child lived,
playing with his colt, and talking to his parrot, while the nurses taught him
all things needful for a King's son to know.