PART III
I
PRINCESS KALABUTTI
THERE was once a Raja who had seven wives. Their names were Burra, the eldest; Meja, the second; Seja, the third; Nau, the fourth; Konai, the extra one; Dua; and Chhota, the youngest. Dua means a woman despised by her husband, and the Rani so called was the eyesore of the Raja.
The Raja was a mighty potentate, dwelling in a vast palace, and possessing innumerable elephants and horses, and an inexhaustible treasury of gems and gold mohurs. In fact he had everything that the heart of man could desire. The palace was full of people, among whom were his ministers, body-guards, and soldiers. But he was not happy. All his Ranis had proved barren, and this he believed to be a calamity that betokened the displeasure of Heaven.
At length, on an auspicious day, a Sanyasi met the Ranis at their bathing ghat, and gave the Rani-in-chief, or the Burra Rani, a certain root, telling her that on returning home she must make a paste of it. She was then instructed to dissolve the paste in water, and having prepared the mixture, to drink a portion of it herself, distributing the remainder among the other Ranis. This, the Sanyasi said, would of a certainty change their barrenness into the blessed state of motherhood.
Language fails to describe the joy of the Ranis at this communication, and they hastened home in an ecstasy of delight. Fate, however, prevented them from doing the Sanyasi's bidding at once. Certain pressing domestic duties had first to be performed. The eldest Rani had to cook rice, the second to prepare the vegetables, the third to make the different curries, the fourth to carry water into the kitchen, the fifth to act as the general assistant, the sixth, or the Dua Rani to grind spices, and the Chhota Rani to scale and cut the fish for the frying pan. Though busy with her duties, the Burra Rani was anxiously awaiting an opportunity of carrying out the Sanyasi's instructions, and when the time came she directed Dua Rani to prepare the paste. Dua Rani quickly made the required preparation, and eagerly swallowing a portion of it, took the remainder to the Burra Rani on a silver plate under cover of a gold cup. The Burra Rani took off the cover, quaffed a good quantity of the draught, and passed it to the second Rani. She took her share, and made over the residue to Seja Rani, who after doing justice to her own demands, gave what was left to Konai Rani. Very little now remained in the basin, and she could not help swallowing the whole of it. Nau, the fourth Rani, came in at this juncture, and was naturally much chagrined when she found nothing in the plate but the sediments. These, however, she utilized, and going to Chhota Rani, who had just then finished preparing the fish, thus exclaimed in sympathy—"Ah! wretched woman, you have not availed yourself of the preparation of the root; make haste, go quickly, and see how much of it is left." Poor Chhota Rani in great anguish ran to the spot, and bitter was her disappointment when she found nothing left for her. She fell to the ground, and rolled over and over in a paroxysm of grief. The other Ranis drew near, but what consolation could they offer? They blamed one another for having been so unmindful of their sister. Nau Rani, cleverer and seemingly more sympathetic than the others, said to Chhota Rani, "Come, sister, if there be any small fraction of the root left on the stone on which it was ground, I will mix it with water for you. This will, if it please God, make you the mother of a bright and beautiful child." To make the best of a bad case 
PRINCESS KALABUTTI
Chhota Rani did as advised. Then they both went to draw water, leaving the other Ranis to talk over the incidents of the day.
After the lapse of ten months and ten days, each of the Ranis brought forth her offspring. Wonder of wonders! Nau Rani and Chhota Rani, respectively, gave birth to an owl and a monkey, while the other Ranis were each blessed with sons as charming in appearance as the moon.
The square in front of the apartments of the more fortunate mothers resounded with the beating of drums and trumpets, while there was nothing but lamentation in the quarters of Nau and Chhota Rani. The Ranis who had given birth to sons were escorted into the palace by their husband and his gorgeous retinue, while nobody deigned to notice the mothers of the monkey and the owl.
After a few days Nau Rani was made to work as a menial in the Raja's zoological establishment, and Chhota Rani was degraded to the rank of those who made and gathered cow-dung cakes for the fuel required in the royal household. Thus their days passed in great sorrow and distress.
In course of time the five princes grew up into handsome young men. The monkey and the owl, too, grew proportionately. The princes were named Hirarajputra, Manikrajputra, Motirajputra, Shankharajputra, and Kanchanrajputra, the first parts of their names respectively meaning Diamond, Precious Jewel on the Cobra's head, Pearl, Conch, and Gold. The name of the owl was Bhootoom and that of the monkey Boodhu.
The five princes used to ride on horses as speedy of motion as birds, accompanied by soldiers as their bodyguards, while Bhootoom and Boodhu passed their days on the Bakul tree near the hut occupied in common by their mothers.
The princes as they grew older became very cruel and oppressive. Not content with beating the people, they even at pleasure cut off their heads. The voice of discontent was loud everywhere. Bhootoom and Boodhu diverted themselves by accompanying their mothers to the places where they worked, and assisting them. Boodhu collected cow-dung cakes for his mother, and Bhootoom lightened the toil of his mother by feeding the fledglings in the Zoo. Their attentions to their mothers did not stop here. When these ladies suffered greatly for want of the means of subsistence, Boodhu brought them delicious fruits of every description. Bhootoom, not to be outdone, brought in his beak a plentiful supply of betel-nuts. Thus the two discarded Ranis passed their days in sad privation and distress, only relieved by the devotion of the monkey and the owl, their children.
One day the princes rode on their fleet horses towards the menagerie. On their way they saw the monkey and the owl on the bakul tree, and said to their bodyguards, "Lay hold of the owl and the monkey, and bring them to us. We will keep them with us." On this, the attendants cast a net round the tree, and Bhootoom and Boodhu, unable to break through it, were caught and were taken to the palace, each in a cage; the princes being entirely ignorant of their connection with their captives.
Their mothers, on returning home from their work, found Bhootoom and Boodhu absent, and fearing some mishap, they threw themselves on the ground and rent the air with their cries.
On coming to the palace, Bhootoom and Boodhu were speechless with wonder at what they saw. There were spacious halls, elephants, horses, soldiers, sentinels, and many other astonishing things. They were greatly pleased, and thought thus: "Why do our mothers live in the hut? Why can't they and we live here together?" They then gave expression to their thoughts, and addressing the princes, said, "O princes, our brothers, you have brought us here, but why is it that you do not do the same with our mothers?"
The princes were astonished to find them talking like human beings, but they replied, "Tell us where your mothers are, and we will have them fetched into the Zoo, where they will be well cared for." "My mother is a menial in the king's Zoo," answered Bhootoom. Boodhu also spoke of his mother as a servant whose duty it was to collect cow-dung cakes. At this the princes burst into a laugh, and said, "Is it possible for a monkey or an owl to be the offspring of a human being?" It was no wonder that they said this, for they did not know the sad history of Nau and Chhota Rani. But one of their attendants said, "O princes, what you think impossible has actually happened. Besides your mothers there were two Ranis, one of whom gave birth to this owl, and the other to this monkey. And they have both been disgraced and turned out of the palace."
Thereupon a great loathing seized the princes, and calling out "Shame! shame!" they kicked at the cages, and told their men to drive away the owl and the monkey. Then for recreation's sake they went out for a ride.
Now it was from this incident that Bhootoom and Boodhu learned that they were of royal parentage, and that their mothers were not originally menials. Boodhu said to Bhootoom, "Brother, the best thing for us now is to see our father. Let us go to him." At once Bhootoom agreed, and they set out together towards the palace.
Meanwhile the five Ranis, seated on a silver khat (bed), were engaged in making chains of gold for their foreheads, when a maidservant burst into their presence and said, "Your majesties, a boat, with its forepart shaped like the head of a parrot, is lying at the landing ghat. Its rudders are of silver, and the helm is cut from a diamond; and a girl with hair of the colour of a dark cloud, and complexion as fair and bright as the colour of a kunch,[1] is seated inside, talking to a parrot of gold."
The curiosity of the Ranis being excited to the highest pitch, they proceeded at once to obtain a sight of the wonderful maiden. The boat had unfurled its sails, but it was still near enough for the Ranis to address its occupant.
"O damsel of kunch-like colour and hair of cloudy hue," they addressed her, "will you not part with some of the flowers of the lustrous pearl you are carrying?"
But the maiden answered, "What is this of the flowers of pearl? They are far from here, and your sons, if they would possess them, must cross the red river, free the three witches who guard the king, and come to Kolabuttipur." As the boat disappeared, each of the Ranis thought in her heart that she would send her son to win the hand of this beautiful princess, with all her wealth.
The maiden, who could read their hearts, said in reply, "Princess Kalabutti, of kunch-like colour, hails your sons to her kingdom. If any one of them can make himself master of the flowers of pearl, she shall be his."
After this the Ranis went home, and sent for their husband and their sons, telling them everything that had transpired between them and the Princess Kalabutti. On this the Raja at once ordered the Royal Mayurpankhis, boats made in the shape of a peacock, to be fitted out. The princes should set sail in them in quest of the pearl flowers.
The preparations for the princes to begin their voyage having been completed, the mayurpankhis were launched, each with a prince and his retinue on board. The Raja was present, and Bhootoom and Boodhu, who had meanwhile revealed their identity to him, were with him. They asked their father to order mayurpankhis for them also; but the poor Raja's tongue was tied by the presence of the five Ranis standing near. They forced him away into the palace without, however, omitting to give the owl and the monkey a number of slaps for what they considered their impertinence.
Bhootoom and Boodhu were resolved to follow the princes, and they went off to apply to a carpenter for a mayurpankhi. They had, however, been already forestalled by their mothers, who were intent on sending their offspring on the expedition. As an apology for a boat, each made a canoe of a betel-nut tree, and putting some Durba grass, paddy and cowries in it, launched it on the river along which the princes had passed, the durba, the paddy, and shells being considered emblems of good luck. As an additional security for success they marked each canoe with spots of vermilion, and anxiously waited for the owl and the monkey. On returning from the carpenter's they saw the preparations made by their mothers, gladly availed themselves of them, and set out on their voyage.
The princes had meanwhile reached the kingdoms of the three witches mentioned by Kalabutti, and were, with all their retinue, at once seized by three old men who stood as sentinels, put into a gunny-bag, and taken to the witches, who regaled themselves on the captives for three successive evenings. But by a miracle the princes lost neither their lives nor their consciousness. One night, though confined within the walls of the stomachs of the witches, they talked to one another thus, when their devourers were asleep, "O brothers, we shall have to remain buried within these infernal creatures. No more shall we see our parents." While they were in this state of despair the owl and the monkey, having finished the first stage of their voyage, reached the accursed shore. No violence was done to them, and coming where the old women lay snoring, they heard what the princes said. Boodhu thought of a clever plan to save them. He extended his tail, which they eagerly laid hold of, and dragged them out through the nostrils of the witches, whom they forthwith despatched with the swords put into their hands by Bhootoom. Thus were not only the princes saved, but all their attendants also; and the mayurpankhis were again set afloat. But of poor Bhootoom and Boodhu the ungrateful princes took no further notice. The Rubicon, however, was not yet passed. There still remained the expansive and boisterous waters of the red river to be crossed. The current carried the boats far out into the adjacent sea, at the mercy of which the princes remained for seven days in fear of instant death. It was then in utter helplessness that they exclaimed, "Oh, for Bhootoom and Boodhu! Were they here they could save us." Their cry was immediately answered, Bhootoom and Boodhu seeming to fall from the skies to their rescue. They tied their canoes to the side of one of the gorgeous mayurpankhis, and told the boatmen to sail northwards. Thus the princes were brought into a river safe for navigation, and were saved, but their ungrateful and wicked propensities still remained, and they callously ordered their men to throw the owl and the monkey into the water.
But the princes had yet another lesson to learn. Another disaster soon befell them, the mayurpankhis with their passengers and crews sinking to the bottom of the river. Some time afterwards Bhootoom and Boodhu happened to arrive there, and the latter told the former that he suspected some calamity had happened to the princes. Bhootoom said in disgust, "Speak no more of them. Let them go to the dogs." But Boodhu reproached him. "Shame, shame, brother," he said, "that can never be. I must dive under the water and rescue them. If you are afraid to do so, you must still help me. I will tie this rope round my waist, do you hold one end of it, and remain on the land. Do not pull it until you feel a jerk." Suiting the action to the word, Boodhu gave Bhootoom the end of the rope and dived under the water. Touching the bottom he found a way downwards into the earth beneath. Pursuing it he at length reached a palace, grand though deserted. There was only one woman, about a hundred years old, in sight. She was working at a kantha, which she threw at him when she saw him. Whereupon thousands and thousands of sepoys instantaneously burst into view. They put chains upon him, carried him into the innermost recesses of the palace, and confined him in a dark room where many voices accosted him and asked help of him. These were the voices of the princes and their followers. Boodhu understood what was required of him and had recourse to a stratagem. Next day he pretended to be dead and was thrown out of the room as such.
As soon, however, as he found that the coast was clear he got up and began inspecting the different apartments of the palace; and lo! on reaching the third story he saw the damsel with hair of cloudy colour who had visited his father's capital, and whom the princes were so eager to discover. He approached her from behind, and overheard her thus lamenting in the ears of her golden parrot, "Ah, parrot of gold, ineffectual has been my voyage in the boat with silver oars, since no one has come after me." While she was thus absorbed in her gloomy thoughts the monkey stole away the flowers of pearl bedecking the knot of her hair. He was not, however, quick enough to escape the eyes of the parrot, which raised the alarm, crying out, "Princess Kalabutti, thy flowers of pearl are in the hands of him whose bride thou art destined to be." The girl looked back in great excitement, and finding the monkey behind her, fell to the ground, weeping. But knowing that she was decreed by fate to wed him who came to her having safely passed through the red river, the kingdoms of the three witches, and the deep dungeon in her palace, she reconciled herself to her lot, cast the nuptial wreath round the monkey's neck, and swore eternal fealty to him. He asked her to release the princes and follow him to his country. She agreed, but said that, as fated, she could not be taken out save in a casket of gold. Boodhu adopted the proposed means, and after many fresh adventures, together with his bride in the casket, the princes and their retinue, including the boatmen and the old woman's kantha, finally reached the bottom of the river in which the mayurpankhis had sunk. Bhootoom, who had been meanwhile waiting patiently above ground, at last felt a strain on the rope he held, and dragged up Boodhu with his companions. The homeward voyage was begun, and the boats sped merrily onwards. One day the monkey was caught opening the casket and whispering to some one inside. The suspicions of the princes were roused, and they threw him, with the kantha wrapped round his body, into the water; at the same time hitting the owl, seated on one of the masts, with an arrow, wishing him a watery grave. The casket was then opened, and the coveted damsel came out. Enraptured with the sight, each of the princes asked her if she would be his, and she replied that none could be her lord but he who was in possession of the flowers of pearl. The princes well understood her, and kept her as a prisoner.
The voyage came to an end, and the princes with Kalabutti were cordially received at the palace. The Ranis asked her to which of them she would give her hand, and she said that she would speak out her mind after a month—the period she had vowed to remain silent on the subject. Her word was accepted, and the princes were forced to curb their impatience.
In the midst of the rejoicings attending the apparently successful issue of the expedition, the mothers of Bhootoom and Boodhu, disconsolate at the absence of their darlings, and apprehensive of their death, were so greatly affected that they decided to drown themselves in the neighbouring river. They went to its bank intending to put an end to their lives, when suddenly the objects of their love burst into view with the sacred name of "mother" on their lips. Nothing could surpass the ecstasy that the two ladies felt. They hugged their dear ones close to their bosoms, and blessing the gods for restoring their lost treasures to them, took them home, rejoicing. The happy night following this lucky day came to an end, and people were in the morning surprised to find that a crowded bazar was held near the hut of the two Ranis who had been doomed by their husband to ignoble servitude, that a beautiful orchard had sprung into existence, and that thousands of soldiers were stationed on guard. Princess Kalabutti, being informed of this, went to the Raja and said, "The period of my vow is over, but I am not going to give my hand to any of the five princes. Dispose of me as you like." The Raja said in reply, "Mother,[2] I am not so great a dolt as not to understand all this. Is there none to fetch Nau and Chota Rani to the palace?" This speech of the Raja added fuel to the fire of excitement burning in Kalabutti's bosom, and she hurried off at the head of her whole Court to the two Ranis, and formally escorted them into the royal mansion. The other Ranis and their sons, in shame and sorrow, sought their own chambers. Bhootoom and Boodhu came into the Durbar, and made their obeisance to their father. Their stars were at last in the ascendant. Next day, with great éclat, Boodhu was married to Kalabutti, and Bhootoom to a foreign princess, Herabati by name. But a sad visitation fell upon the heads of the five princes and their mothers. The doors of the rooms in which they had shut themselves up were blocked up with mud and thorns, and they were left to die of hunger.
Time passed smoothly over the heads of the Raja and his people, when one night they were startled by the cries of Kalabutti and Herabati, who, waking out of their sleep, had respectively seen on their beds a monkey's and an owl's skin. The whole house resounded with lamentations at the probable death of Bhootoom and Boodhu, but every one was soon disabused of his error by the Raja's daughters-in-law who, peeping out of their windows, saw two princes of godlike mien on horseback, keeping watch at the palace gate. They recognized their husbands in the riders, understood what the mystery was, and at once burned the disguises their lords had assumed. Bhootoom and Boodhu were then formally acknowledged as Jubarajas, or heirs apparent to the crown. Their names were changed into Rupkumar and Budhkumar. The Raja, with his two reconciled Ranis, their sons and daughters-in-law, passed his days in great happiness till, stricken in years, he retired to the distant forest to seek his spiritual and eternal welfare, leaving the kingdom to his sons.