Tales of the Punjab: Folklore of India Part 17

'Old wives must scramble through water and mud, But young wives are carried dry-shod o'er the flood.'

This allusion so enraged her husband that he could not contain himself, but cried out,' Hold your tongue, you shameless old cat!'

Of course, when he opened his mouth to speak, the poor draggled bride fell out, and going plump into the river, was drowned. Whereupon the c.o.c.k-sparrow was so distracted with grief that he picked off all his feathers until he was as bare as a ploughed field. Then, going to a _pipal_ tree, he sat all naked and forlorn on the branches, sobbing and sighing.

'What has happened?' cried the _pipal_ tree, aghast at the sight.

'Don't ask me!' wailed the c.o.c.k-sparrow; 'it isn't manners to ask questions when a body is in deep mourning.'

But the _pipal_ would not be satisfied without an answer, so at last poor bereaved c.o.c.k-sparrow replied--

'The ugly hen painted.

By jealousy tainted, The pretty hen dyed.

Lamenting his bride, The c.o.c.k, bald and bare, Sobs loud in despair!'

On hearing this sad tale, the _pipal_ became overwhelmed with grief, and declaring it must mourn also, shed all its leaves on the spot.

By and by a buffalo, coming in the heat of the day to rest in the shade of the _pipal_ tree, was astonished to find nothing but bare twigs.

'What has happened?' cried the buffalo; 'you were as green as possible yesterday!'

'Don't ask me!' whimpered the _pipal_. 'Where are your manners?

Don't you know it isn't decent to ask questions when people are in mourning?'

But the buffalo insisted on having an answer, so at last, with many sobs and sighs, the _pipal_ replied--

'The ugly hen painted.

By jealousy tainted, The pretty hen dyed.

Bewailing his bride, The c.o.c.k, bald and bare, Sobs loud in despair; The _pipal_ tree grieves By shedding its leaves!'

'Oh dear me!' cried the buffalo, 'how very sad! I really must mourn too!' So she immediately cast her horns, and began to weep and wail.

After a while, becoming thirsty, she went to drink at the river-side.

'Goodness gracious!' cried the river, 'what is the matter? and what have you done with your horns?'

'How rude you are!' wept the buffalo. 'Can't you see I am in deep mourning? and it isn't polite to ask questions.'

But the river persisted, until the buffalo, with many groans, replied--

'The ugly hen painted.

By jealousy tainted, The pretty hen dyed.

Lamenting his bride, The c.o.c.k, bald and bare, Sobs loud in despair; The _pipal_ tree grieves By shedding its leaves; The buffalo mourns By casting her horns!'

'Dreadful!' cried the river, and wept so fast that its water became quite salt.

By and by a cuckoo, coming to bathe in the stream, called out, 'Why, river! what has happened? You are as salt as tears!'

'Don't ask me!' mourned the stream; 'it is too dreadful for words!'

Nevertheless, when the cuckoo would take no denial, the river replied--

'The ugly hen painted.

By jealousy tainted, The pretty hen dyed.

Lamenting his bride, The c.o.c.k, bald and bare, Sobs loud in despair; The _pipal_ tree grieves By shedding its leaves; The buffalo mourns By casting her horns; The stream, weeping fast, Grows briny at last!'

'Oh dear! oh dear me!' cried the cuckoo, 'how very very sad! I must mourn too!' So it plucked out an eye, and going to a corn-merchant's shop, sat on the doorstep and wept.

'Why, little cuckoo! what's the matter?' cried Bhagtu the shopkeeper.

'You are generally the pertest of birds, and to-day you are as dull as ditchwater!'

'Don't ask me!' snivelled the cuckoo; 'it is such terrible grief! such dreadful sorrow! such--such horrible pain!'

However, when Bhagtu persisted, the cuckoo, wiping its one eye on its wing, replied--

'The ugly hen painted.

By jealousy tainted, The pretty hen dyed.

Lamenting his bride, The c.o.c.k, bald and bare, Sobs loud in despair; The _pipal_ tree grieves By shedding its leaves; The buffalo mourns By casting her horns; The stream, weeping fast, Grows briny at last; The cuckoo with sighs Blinds one of its eyes!'

'Bless my heart!' cried Bhagtu,'but that is simply the most heartrending tale I ever heard in my life! I must really mourn likewise!' Whereupon he wept, and wailed, and beat his breast, until he went completely out of his mind; and when the Queen's maidservant came to buy of him, he gave her pepper instead of turmeric, onion instead of garlic, and wheat instead of pulse.

'Dear me, friend Bhagtu!' quoth the maid-* servant, 'your wits are wool-gathering! What's the matter?'

'Don't! please don't!' cried Bhagtu; 'I wish you wouldn't ask me, for I am trying to forget all about it. It is too dreadful--too too terrible!'

At last, however, yielding to the maid's entreaties, he replied, with many sobs and tears--

'The ugly hen painted.

By jealousy tainted, The pretty hen dyed.

Lamenting his bride, The c.o.c.k, bald and bare, Sobs loud in despair; The _pipal_ tree grieves By shedding its leaves; The buffalo mourns By casting her horns; The stream, weeping fast, Grows briny at last; The cuckoo with sighs Blinds one of its eyes; Bhagtu's grief so intense is, He loses his senses!'

'How very sad!' exclaimed the maidservant. 'I don't wonder at your distress; but it is always so in this miserable world!--everything goes wrong!'

Whereupon she fell to railing at everybody and everything in the world, until the Queen said to her, 'What is the matter, my child?

What distresses you?'

'Oh!' replied the maidservant, 'the old story! every one is miserable, and I most of all! Such dreadful news!--

'The ugly hen painted.

By jealousy tainted, The pretty hen dyed.

Lamenting his bride, The c.o.c.k, bald and bare, Sobs loud in despair; The _pipal_ tree grieves By shedding its leaves; The buffalo mourns By casting her horns; The stream, weeping fast, Grows briny at last; The cuckoo with sighs Blinds one of its eyes; Bhagtu's grief so intense is, He loses his senses; The maidservant wailing Has taken to railing!'

'Too true!' wept the Queen, 'too true! The world is a vale of tears!

There is nothing for it but to try and forget!' Whereupon she set to work dancing away as hard as she could.

By and by in came the Prince, who, seeing her twirling about, said, 'Why, mother! what is the matter?'

The Queen, without stopping, gasped out--