The Pomegranate King

There was once a Maharaja, called the Anarbasa, or Pomegranate King;
and a Maharani called the Gulianar, or Pomegranate-flower. The
Maharani died leaving two children: a little girl of four or five
years old, and a little boy of three. The Maharaja was very sorry when
she died, for he loved her dearly. He was exceedingly fond of his two
children, and got for them two servants: a man to cook their dinner,
and an ayah to take care of them. He also had them taught to read and
write. Soon after his wife's death the neighbouring Raja's daughter's
husband died, and she said if any other Raja would marry her, she
would be quite willing to marry him, and she also said she would like
very much to marry the Pomegranate Raja. So her father went to see the
Pomegranate Raja, and told him that his daughter wished to marry him.
"Oh," said the Pomegranate Raja, "I do not want to marry again, for if
I do, the woman I marry will be sure to be unkind to my two children.
She will not take care of them. She will not pet them and comfort them
when they are unhappy." "Oh," said the other Raja, "my daughter will
be very good to them, I assure you." "Very well," said the Maharaja,
"I will marry her." So they were married.

For two or three months everything went on well, but then the new
Rani, who was called the Sunkasi Maharani, began to beat the poor
children, and to scold their servants. One day she gave the boy such
a hard blow on his cheek that it swelled. When the Maharaja came out
of his office to get his tiffin, he saw the boy's swollen face, and,
calling the two servants, he said, "Who did this? how did my boy get
hurt?" They said, "The Rani gave him such a hard blow on his cheek
that it swelled, and she gets very angry with us if we say anything
about her ill-treatment of the children, or how she scolds us." The
Maharaja was exceedingly angry with his wife for this, and said to
her, "I never beat my children. Why should you beat them? If you beat
them I will send you away." And he went off to his office in a great
rage. The Rani was very angry. So she told the little girl to go with
the ayah to the bazar. The ayah and the little girl set off, never
suspecting any evil. As soon as they had gone, the Rani took the
little boy and told him she would kill him. The boy went down on his
knees and begged her to spare his life. But she said, "No; your father
is always quarrelling with me, beating me, and scolding me, all
through your fault." The boy begged and prayed again, saying he would
never be naughty any more. The Rani shook her head, and taking a large
knife she cut off his head. She then cut him up and made him into a
curry. She then buried his head, and his nails, and his feet in the
ground, and she covered them well with earth, and stamped the ground
well down so that no one should notice it had been disturbed. When the
Pomegranate Raja came home to his dinner, she put the curry and some
rice on the table before him; but the Raja, seeing his boy was not
there, would not eat. He went and looked everywhere for his son,
crying very much, and the little girl cried very much too, for she
loved her brother dearly. After they had hunted for him for some time,
the little boy appeared. His father embraced him. "Where have you
been?" said he. "I cannot eat my dinner without you." The little boy
said, "Oh, I was in the jungle playing with other boys." They then
sat down to dinner, and the curry changed into a kid curry. The Rani
was greatly astonished when she saw the boy. She said to herself, "I
cut his head off; I cut him into little pieces, and I made him into a
curry, and yet he is alive!" She then went into the garden to see if
his head, and nails, and feet were in the hole where she had buried
them. But they were not there; it was quite empty. She then called a
sepoy, and said to him, "If you will take two children into the jungle
and kill them, I will give you as much money as you like." "All
right," said the sepoy. She then brought the children, and told him to
take them to the jungle. So he took them away to the jungle, but he
had not the heart to kill them, for they were exceedingly beautiful,
and he left them in the jungle near their dead mother's grave. Then he
returned to the Rani, saying he had done as she wished, and she gave
him as much money as he wanted.

The poor Pomegranate Raja was very unhappy when he saw his children
were not in the palace, and that they could not be found. He asked his
Rani where they were, but she said she did not know; they had gone out
to play and had never returned. From the day he lost his children the
Pomegranate Raja became melancholy. He did not love the Rani any more;
he hated her.

Meanwhile the children lived in a little house built close to their
mother's grave. God had given her life again that she might take care
of them. But they did not know she was their mother; they thought she
was another woman sent to take care of them. God sent also a man to
teach them. Somehow or other the Rani Sunkasi heard they were still
alive in the jungle. She did not know how she could kill them. So at
last she pretended she was very ill, and she said to the Raja, "The
doctor says that in the jungle there are two children, and he says if
you will have them killed, and will bring their livers for me to
stand on when I bathe, then I shall get well." The Raja sent a second
sepoy to kill the children, and this man killed them and brought their
livers to the Rani. She stood on them while bathing, and then said she
was quite well. She then threw the livers into the garden, and during
the night a tree grew up there with two large beautiful flowers on it.
Next morning the Rani looked out and said, "I will gather those
flowers to-day." Every day she said she would gather them, and every
day she forgot. At last one day she said, "Every day I forget to
gather those flowers, but to-day I really will do so," and she sent
her servant to pluck them. So he went out, and, just as he was going
to gather them, the flowers flew up just out of his reach. Then the
Rani went down, and when she was going to pick them they flew up so
high that they could not be seen. Every day she tried to gather them,
and every day they went high up, and came back again to the tree as
soon as she had gone. Then the flowers disappeared and two large
fruits came in their stead. The Rani looked out of her window: "Oh,
what delicious fruits! I'll eat them all myself. I won't give a bit to
anybody, and I'll eat them by myself quite quietly." She went down to
the garden, but they flew high up into the sky, and then they came
down again. So this went on, day after day, until she got so cross she
ordered the tree to be cut down. But it was of no use. The tree was
cut down, but the fruits flew high up into the sky, and in the night
the tree grew up again and the fruits came back again to it. And so
this went on for many days. Every day she cut down the tree, and every
night it grew up again, but she could never get the fruits. At last
she became very angry, and had the tree hewn into tiny bits and all
the bits thrown away, but still the tree grew again in the night, and
in the morning the fruits were hanging on it. So she went to the Raja
and told him that in the garden was a tree with two fruits, and every
time she tried to get them, the fruits went up into the air. She had
had the tree cut down ever so many times, and it always grew up again
in the night and the fruits returned to it. "Why cannot you leave the
tree alone?" said the Raja. "But I should like to see if what you say
is true." So the Raja and the Rani went down to the garden, and the
Rani tried to get the fruits, but she could not, for they went right
up into the air.

That evening the Raja went alone to the garden to gather the fruits,
and the fruits of themselves fell into his hand. He took them into his
room, and putting them on a little table close to his bed, he lay down
to sleep. As soon as he was in bed a little voice inside one of the
fruits said, "Brother;" and a little voice in the other fruit said,
"Sister, speak more gently. To-morrow the Raja will break open the
fruits, and if the Rani finds us she will kill us. Three times has God
made us alive again, but if we die a fourth time he will bring us to
life no more." The Raja listened and said, "I will break them open in
a little while." Then he went to sleep, and after a little he woke and
said, "A little while longer," and went to sleep again. Several times
he woke up and said, "I will break the fruits open in a little while,"
and went to sleep. At last he took a knife and began cutting the
fruits open very fast, and the little boy cried, "Gently, gently,
father; you hurt us!" So then the Raja cut more gently, and he stopped
to ask, "Are you hurt?" and they said, "No." And then he cut again and
asked, "Are you hurt?" and they said, "No." And a third time he asked,
"Are you hurt?" and they answered, "No." Then the fruits broke open
and his two children jumped out. They rushed into their father's arms,
and he clasped them tight, and they cried softly, that the Rani might
not hear.

He shut his room up close, and fed and dressed his children, and then
went out of the room, locking the door behind him. He had a little
wooden house built that could easily catch fire, and as soon as it was
ready he went to the Rani and said, "Will you go into a little house I
have made ready for you while your room is getting repaired?" "All
right," said the Rani; so she went into the little house, and that
night a man set it on fire, and the Rani and everything in it was
burnt up. Then the Pomegranate Raja took her bones, put them into a
tin box, and sent them as a present to her mother. "Oh," said the
mother, "my daughter has married the Pomegranate Maharaja, and so she
sends me some delicious food." When she opened the box, to her horror
she found only bones! Then she wrote to the Maharaja, "Of what use are
bones?" The Maharaja wrote back, "They are your bones; they belong to
you, for they are your daughter's bones. She ill-treated and killed my
children, and so I had her burnt."

The Pomegranate Raja and his children lived very happily for some
time, and their dead mother, the Gulianar Rani, having a wish to see
her husband and her children, prayed to God to let her go and visit
them. God said she could go, but not in her human shape, so he changed
her into a beautiful bird, and put a pin in her head, and said, "As
soon as the pin is pulled out you will become a woman again." She flew
to the palace where the Maharaja lived, and there were great trees
about the palace. On one of these she perched at night. The doorkeeper
was lying near it. She called out, "Doorkeeper! doorkeeper!" and he
answered, "What is it? Who is it?" And she asked, "Is the Raja well?"
and the doorkeeper said, "Yes." "Are the children well?" and he said,
"Yes." "And all the servants, and camels, and horses?" "Yes." "Are you
well?" "Yes." "Have you had plenty of food?" "Yes." "What a great
donkey your Maharaja is!" And then she began to cry very much, and
pearls fell from her eyes as she cried. Then she began to laugh very
much, and great big rubies fell from her beak as she laughed. The next
morning the doorkeeper got up and felt about, and said, "What is all
this?" meaning the pearls and the rubies, for he did not know what
they were. "I will keep them." So he picked them all up and put them
into a corner of his house. Every night the bird came and asked after
the Maharaja and the children and the servants, and left a great many
pearls and rubies behind her. At last the doorkeeper had a whole heap
of pearls and rubies.

One day a Fakir came and begged, and as the doorkeeper had no pice, or
flour, or rice to give, he gave him a handful of pearls and rubies.
"Well," said the Fakir to himself, "I am sure these are pearls and
rubies." So he tied them up in his cloth. Then he went to the Raja to
beg, and the Raja gave him a handful of rice. "What!" said the Fakir,
"the great Maharaja only gives me a handful of rice when his
doorkeeper gives me pearls and rubies!" and he turned to walk away.
But the Maharaja stopped him. "What did you say?" said he, "that my
doorkeeper gave you pearls and rubies?" "Yes," said the Fakir, "your
doorkeeper gave me pearls and rubies." So the Maharaja went to the
doorkeeper's house, and when he saw all the pearls and rubies that
were there, he thought the man had stolen them from his treasury. The
Maharaja had not as many pearls and rubies as his doorkeeper had. Then
turning to the doorkeeper he asked him to tell him truly where and how
he had got them. "Yes, I will," said the doorkeeper. "Every night a
beautiful bird comes and asks after you, after your children, after
all your elephants, horses, and servants; and then it cries, and when
it cries pearls drop from its eyes; and then it laughs, and rubies
fall from its beak. If you come to-night I dare say you will see it."
"All right," said the Pomegranate Raja.

So that night the Maharaja pulled his bed out under the tree on which
the bird always perched. At night the bird came and called out,
"Doorkeeper! doorkeeper!" and the doorkeeper answered, "Yes, lord."
And the bird said, "Is your Maharaja well?" "Yes." "Are the children
well?" "Yes." "And all his servants, horses, and camels and
elephants--are they well?" "Yes." "Are you well?" "Yes." "Have you had
plenty of food?" "Yes." "What a fool your Maharaja is!" And then she
cried, and the pearls came tumbling down on the Maharaja's eyes, and
the Maharaja opened one eye and saw what a beautiful bird it was. And
then it laughed, and rubies fell from its beak on to the Maharaja.

Next morning the Maharaja said he would give any one who would catch
the bird as much money as he wanted. So he called a fisherman, and
asked him to bring his net and catch the bird when it came that night.
The fisherman said he would for one thousand rupees. That night the
fisherman, the Maharaja, and the doorkeeper, all waited under the
tree. Soon the bird came, and asked after the Maharaja, after his
children, and all his servants and elephants, and camels and horses,
and then after the doorkeeper, and then it called the Maharaja a fool.
Then it cried, and then it laughed, and just as it laughed the
fisherman threw the net over the bird and caught it. Then they shut it
up in an iron cage, and the next morning the Maharaja took it out and
stroked it, and said, "What a sweet little bird! what a lovely little
bird!" And the Maharaja felt something like a pin in its head, and he
gave a pull, and out came the pin, and then his own dear wife, the
Pomegranate-flower Rani, stood before him. The Raja was exceedingly
glad, and so were his two children. And there were great rejoicings,
and they lived happily ever after.