Phulmati Rani

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Title:     Phulmati Rani
Author: Anonymous [More Titles by Anonymous]

PHÚLMATI RÁNÍ

There were once a Rájá and a Rání who had an only daughter called the Phúlmati Rání, or the Pink-rose Queen. She was so beautiful that if she went into a very dark room it was all lighted up by her beauty. On her head was the sun; on her hands, moons; and her face was covered with stars. She had hair that reached to the ground, and it was made of pure gold.

Every day after she had had her bath, her father and mother used to weigh her in a pair of scales. She only weighed one flower. She ate very, very little food. This made her father most unhappy, and he said, "I cannot let my daughter marry any one who weighs more than one flower." Now, God loved this girl dearly, so he went down under the ground to see if any of the fairy Rájás was fit to be the Phúlmati Rání's husband, and he thought none of them good enough. So he went in the form of a Fakír to see the great Indrásan Rájá who ruled over all the other fairy Rájás. This Rájá was exceedingly beautiful. On his head was the sun; and on his hands, moons; and on his face, stars. God made him weigh very little. Then he said to the Rájá, "Come up with me, and we will go to the palace of the Phúlmati Rání." God had told the Rájá that he was God and not a Fakír, for he loved the Indrásan Rájá. "Very well," said the Indrásan Rájá. So they travelled on until they came to the Phúlmati Rání's palace. When they arrived there they pitched a tent in her compound, and they used to walk about, and whenever they saw the Phúlmati Rání they looked at her. One day they saw her having her hair combed, so God said to the Indrásan Rájá, "Get a horse and ride where the Phúlmati Rání can see you, and if any one asks you who you are, say, 'Oh, it's only a poor Fakír, and I am his son. We have come to stay here a little while just to see the country. We will go away very soon.'" Well, he got a horse and rode about, and Phúlmati Rání, who was having her hair combed in the verandah, said, "I am sure that must be some Rájá; only see how beautiful he is." And she sent one of her servants to ask him who he was. So the servant said to the Indrásan Rájá, "Who are you? why are you here? what do you want?" "Oh, it's only a poor Fakír, and I am his son. We have just come here for a little while to see the country. We will go away very soon." So the servants returned to the Phúlmati Rání and told her what the Indrásan Rájá had said. The Phúlmati Rání told her father about this. The next day, when the Phúlmati Rání and her father were standing in the verandah, God took a pair of scales and weighed the Indrásan Rájá in them. His weight was only that of one flower! "Oh," said the Rájá, when he saw that, "here is the husband for the Phúlmati Rání!" The next day, after the Phúlmati Rání had had her bath, her father took her and weighed her, and he also weighed the Indrásan Rájá. And they were each the same weight. Each weighed one flower, although the Indrásan Rájá was fat and the Phúlmati Rání thin. The next day they were married, and there was a grand wedding. God said he was too poor-looking to appear, so he bought a quantity of elephants, and camels, and horses, and cows, and sheep, and goats, and made a procession, and came to the wedding. Then he went back to heaven, but before he went he said to the Indrásan Rájá "You must stay here one whole year; then go back to your father and to your kingdom. As long as you put flowers on your ears no danger will come near you." (This was in order that the fairies might know that he was a very great Rájá and not hurt him.) "All right," said the Indrásan Rájá. And God went back to heaven.

So the Indrásan Rájá stayed for a whole year. Then he told the Rájá, the Phúlmati Rání's father, that he wished to go back to his own kingdom. "All right," said the Rájá, and he wanted to give him horses, and camels, and elephants. But the Indrásan Rájá and the Phúlmati Rání said they wanted nothing but a tent and a cooly. Well, they set out; but the Indrásan Rájá forgot to put flowers on his ears, and after some days the Indrásan Rájá was very, very tired, so he said, "We will sit down under these big trees and rest awhile. Our baggage will soon be here; it is only a little way behind." So they sat down, and the Rájá said he felt so tired he must sleep. "Very well," said the Rání; "lay your head in my lap and sleep." After a while a shoemaker's wife came by to get some water from a tank which was close to the spot where the Rájá and Rání were resting. Now, the shoemaker's wife was very black and ugly, and she had only one eye, and she was exceedingly wicked. The Rání was very thirsty and she said to the woman, "Please give me some water, I am so thirsty." "If you want any," said the shoemaker's wife, "come to the tank and get it yourself." "But I cannot," said the Rání, "for the Rájá is sleeping in my lap." At last the poor Rání got so very, very thirsty, she said she must have some water; so laying the Rájá's head very gently on the ground she went to the tank. Then the wicked shoemaker's wife, instead of giving her to drink, gave her a push and sent the beautiful Rání into the water, where she was drowned. The shoemaker's wife then went back to the Rájá, and, taking his head on her knee, sat still until he woke. When the Rájá woke he was much frightened, and he said, "This is not my wife. My wife was not black, and she had two eyes." The poor Rájá felt very unhappy. He said, "I am sure something has happened to my wife." He went to the tank, and he saw flowers floating on the water and he caught them, and as he caught them his own true wife stood before him.

They travelled on till they came to a little house. The shoemaker's wife went with them. They went into the house and laid themselves down to sleep, and the Rájá laid beside him the flowers he had found floating in the tank. The Rání's life was in the flowers. As soon as the Rájá and Rání were asleep, the shoemaker's wife took the flowers, broke them into little bits, and burnt them. The Rání died immediately, for the second time. Then the poor Rájá, feeling very lonely and unhappy, travelled on to his kingdom, and the shoemaker's wife went after him. God brought the Phúlmati Rání to life a second time, and led her to the Indrásan Rájá's gardener.

One day as the Indrásan Rájá was going out hunting, he passed by the gardener's house, and saw a beautiful girl sitting in it. He thought she looked very like his wife, the Phúlmati Rání. So he went home to his father and said, "Father, I should like to be married to the girl who lives in our gardener's house." "All right," said the father; "you can be married at once." So they were married the next day.

One night the shoemaker's wife took a ram, killed it, and put some of its blood on the Phúlmati Rání's mouth while the Rání slept. The next morning she went to the Indrásan Rájá and said, "Whom have you married? You have married a Rakshas. Just see. She has been eating cows, and sheep, and chickens. Just come and see." The Rájá went, and when he saw the blood on his wife's mouth he was frightened, and he thought she was really a Rakshas. The shoemaker's wife said to him, "If you do not cut this woman in pieces, some harm will happen to you." So the Rájá took a knife and cut his beautiful wife into pieces. He then went away very sorrowful. The Phúlmati Rání's arms and legs grew into four houses; her chest became a tank, and her head a house in the middle of the tank; her eyes turned into two little doves; and these five houses, the tank and the doves, were transported to the jungle. No one knew this. The little doves lived in the house that stood in the middle of the tank. The other four houses stood round the tank.

One day when the Indrásan Rájá was hunting by himself in the jungle he was very tired, and he saw the house in the tank. So he said, "I will go into that house to rest a little while, and to-morrow I will return home to my father." So, tying his horse outside, he went into the house and lay down to sleep. By and by, the two little birds came and perched on the roof above his head. They began to talk, and the Rájá listened. The little husband-dove said to his wife, "This is the man who cut his wife to pieces." And then he told her how the Indrásan Rájá had married the beautiful Phúlmati Rání, who weighed only one flower, and how the shoemaker's wife had drowned her; how God had brought her to life again; how the shoemaker's wife had burned her; and last of all, how the Rájá himself had cut her to pieces. "And cannot the Rájá find her again?" said the little wife-dove. "Oh, yes, he can," said her husband, "but he does not know how to do so." "But do tell me how he can find her," said the little wife-dove. "Well," said her husband, "every night, at twelve o'clock, the Rání and her servants come to bathe in the tank. Her servants wear yellow dresses, but she wears a red one. Now, if the Rájá could get all their dresses, every one, when they lay them down and go into the tank to bathe, and throw away all the yellow dresses one by one, keeping only the red one, he would recover his wife."

The Rájá heard all these things, and at midnight the Rání and her servants came to bathe. The Rájá lay very quiet, and after they all had taken off their dresses and gone into the tank, he jumped up and seized every one of the dresses,--he did not leave one of them,--and ran away as hard as he could. Then each of the servants, who were only fairies, screamed out, "Give me my dress! What are you doing? why do you take it away?" Then the Rájá dropped one by one the yellow dresses and kept the red one. The fairy servants picked up the dresses, and forsook the Phúlmati Rání and ran away. The Rájá came back to her with her dress in his hand, and she said, "Oh, give me back my dress. If you keep it I shall die. Three times has God brought me to life, but he will bring me to life no more." The Rájá fell at her feet and begged her pardon, and they were reconciled. And he gave her back her dress. Then they went home, and Indrásan Rájá had the shoemaker's wife cut to pieces, and buried in the jungle. And they lived happily ever after.

Told by Dunkní at Simla, July 25th, 1876.

NOTES.

FAIRY TALE TRANSLATED
BY
MAIVE STOKES.

WITH NOTES BY MARY STOKES

1. Phúlmati is a garden rose, not a wild rose. It must be a local name for the flower. I can find it in no dictionary. Dunkní says her heroine was named after a pink rose.

2. She has hair of pure gold. Compare in this book: Princess Jahúran, p. 43, the Monkey Prince, p. 50, Sonahrí Rání, p. 54, Jahúr Rání, p. 93, Prince Dímá-ahmad and Princess Atása, Notes, p. 253. Also, Híra Bai, the cobra's daughter in Old Deccan Days, p. 35. So many princely heroes and heroines in European fairy tales are noteworthy for their dazzling golden hair that I will only mention one of them, Princess Golden-Hair, one of whose hairs rings if it falls to the ground--see Naake's Slavonic Fairy Tales, p. 100. And devils being fallen heroes or angels, the following references may be made to them. In Haltrich's Siebenbuergische Maerchen, p. 171, in "Die beiden Fleischhauer in der Hoelle," the devil's grandmother gives the good brother a hair that had fallen from the devil's head while he slept. The man carries it home and the hair suddenly becomes as big as a "Heubaum" and is "of pure gold." Also in one of Grimm's stories the hero is sent to fetch three golden hairs from the devil's head--see Kinder und Hausmaerchen, vol. I. p. 175, "Der Teufel mit den drei goldenen Haaren."

3. Her beauty lights up a dark room. In this shining quality she resembles many Asiatic and European fairy-tale heroes and heroines. See in this book Hírálí, whose face shone like a diamond, p. 69; and the Princess Labám, who shone like the moon, and her beauty made night day, p. 158. In Old Deccan Days, p. 156, the prince's dead body on the hedge of spears dazzles those who look at it till they can hardly see. Pánch Phúl Rání, p. 140, shines in the dark jungle like a star. So does the princess in Chundun Rájá's dark tomb, p. 229. In a Dinájpur story published by Mr. G. H. Damant in the Indian Antiquary for February 1875, vol. IV. p. 54, the dream-nymph, Tillottama, whenever she appears, lights up the whole place with her beauty. "At every breath she drew when she slept, a flame like a flower issued from her nostril, and when she drew in her breath the flower of flame was again withdrawn." Her beauty lit up her house "as if by lightning." See Appendix A. In Naake's Slavonic Fairy Tales, p. 96, is the Bohemian tale quoted above of Princess Golden-Hair. "Every morning at break of day she [the princess] combs her golden locks; its brightness is reflected in the sea, and up among the clouds," p. 102. When she let it down "it was bright as the rising sun," and almost blinded Irik with its radiance, p. 107. The golden children (Schott's Wallachische Maerchen, p. 125) shine in the darkened room "like the morning sun in May." Gubernatis in the 2nd vol. of his Zoological Mythology, mentions at p. 31 a golden boy who figures in one of Afanassieff's stories; when this child's body is uncovered on his restoration to his father, "all the room shines with light." And at p. 57 of the same volume he quotes another of Afanassieff's stories, in which the persecuted princess has three sons "who light up whatever is near them with their splendour." Of Gerd in Jötunheim, the beautiful giant maiden with the bright shining arms, Thorpe says (Northern Mythology, vol. I. p. 47), when she raised "her arms to open the door, both air and water gave such a reflection that the whole world was illumined." The boar Trwyth (who was once a king, but because of his sons was turned into a boar) after his fall preserves some of his old kingly splendour; for "his bristles were like silver wire, and whether he went through the wood or through the plain he was to be traced by the glittering of his bristles" (Mabinogion, vol. II. p. 310). In the same work (vol. III. p. 279), in "The Dream of Maxen Wledig," is a maiden, of whom it is told: "Not more easy than to gaze upon the sun when brightest was it to look upon her by reason of her beauty." And in "Goldhaar" (Haltrich's Siebenbuergische Maerchen, p. 61) when the hero's cap fell off he stood there "in all splendour and his golden locks fell round his head, and he shone like the sun."

In a Santhali tale published by the Rev. F. T. Cole in the Indian Antiquary for January 1875, p. 10, called "Toria the Goatherd and the Daughter of the Sun," a beggar's eyes are as dazzled by the Sun's daughter's beauty "as if he had stared at the sun."

4. Phúlmati Rání has on her head the sun, on her hands moons, and her face is covered with stars. Compare in these stories "The Indrásan Rájá," p. 1, "The boy who had a moon on his forehead and a star on his chin," p. 119, and "Prince Dímá-ahmad and Princess Atása," Notes, p. 253. In Fräulein Gonzenbach's Sicilian Fairy Tales, No. 5 (vol. I. p. 21), the king's son's children are born, the boy with a golden apple in his hand, the girl with a star on her forehead. In the Notes to this story (vol. II. p. 207) Herr Köhler mentions a Tyrolean fairy tale, "Zingerle, II. p. 112," where the king's son's daughter has a golden apple in her hand, and her brother a golden star on his forehead. In Milenowsky's Bohemian Fairy Tales, p. 1, is the story "Von den Sternprinzen" in which the king's son by the queen has a gold star on his forehead, and his son by the old woman has a silver star, p. 2. These princes' children also are born with gold and silver stars on their foreheads, p. 30. In a Hungarian tale, "Die verwandelten Kinder," the old man's youngest daughter promises, and keeps her promise, to give the king, if he marries her, twin sons, who will be most beautiful, will have golden hair, and each a golden ring on his arm; further, one is to have a planet, the other a sun on his forehead--Stier's Ungarische Volksmaerchen, p. 57. Also in the same author's Ungarische Sagen und Maerchen in "Die beiden juengsten Koenigskinder," the hero wins a bride (p. 77) who has a sun on her forehead, a moon on her right, and three stars on her left, breast. In "Eisenlaci" in the same collection the snake-king's daughter has a star on her forehead (p. 109). Gubernatis (Zoological Mythology, vol. I. p. 412) says, "In the seventh story of the third book of Afanassieff, the queen bears two sons; one has a moon on his forehead and the other a star on the nape of his neck. Her wicked sister buries them; a golden and a silver sprout spring up which a sheep eats and then has two lambs, one with a moon on its head, the other with a star on its neck. The wicked sister who has married the king orders them to be torn in pieces, and their intestines to be thrown into the road. The good, lawful queen eats them and again gives birth to her sons." Gubernatis in the 2nd volume of the same work, p. 31, quotes another of Afanassieff's stories, the thirteenth of the third book, in which a merchant's wife has a son "whose body is all of gold, effigies of stars, moon, and sun covered it." This is the gold boy mentioned in the preceding paragraph as lighting up the room when his body was uncovered. In "Das Schwarze Lamm," the empress bears a son with a golden star on his forehead (Karadschitsch, Volksmaerchen der Serben, p. 177).

5. Phúlmati Rání weighs but one flower: compare Pánch Phúl Rání in Old Deccan Days, p. 133.

6. Indrásan (= Indra + Ásana, Indra's throne or home), says Dunkní, is the name of the underground fairy country. Its inhabitants, the fairies (parí) are called the Indrásan people; they delight in all lovely things; everything about them is beautiful; they play exquisitely on all kinds of musical instruments; they dance and sing a great deal; they have wings and can fly. They taught the little Monkey Prince (p. 42), and King Burtal's eldest son was taken to them as a pupil by the fakír Goraknáth, p. 93. In Indrásan grows a tree of which no man can ever see the flowers or fruit, as the fairies gather them in the night and take them away. The Irish "good people" who live in clefts of rocks, caves, and mounds, and the Irish fairies who live in the beautiful land of youth under the sea, have many points in common with the Indian fairies. They, too, dance beautifully, are wonderful musicians, and have everything about them lovely and splendid. The "good people" also sometimes impart their knowledge to mortals. See pp. x, xii, and xviii of the Introduction to the Irische Elfenmaerchen translated into German by the brothers Grimm. Some of the Cornish fairies, the Small People, like the Indrásan people, live underground (Hunt's Romances and Drolls of the West of England, pp. 116, 118, 125), aid those to whom they take a fancy and are very playful among themselves (ib. p. 81); they have the most ravishing music (ib. pp. 86, 98); their singing is clear and delicate as silver bells (ib. p. 100); everything about them is joyous and beautiful (ib. pp. 86, 99, 100); they are a tiny race (ib. p. 81), but can at pleasure take the size of human beings (ib. pp. 115, 122, 123); and their queen has hair "like gold threads" (ib. p. 102). The fair-haired New Zealand fairies are, too, a kindly happy race. See Grey's Polynesian Mythology, pp. 287 to 295. Nothing is said about their dancing, but they are described as "merry, cheerful, and always singing like a cricket" (ib. p. 295), and from one of their fishing-nets left on the sea shore, when its fairy owners were surprised by the rising of the sun, the Maoris learnt the stitch for netting a net. Like the Indian fairies they appear to be as big as human beings.

7. Phúlmati Rání is drowned in a tank and becomes a flower; she is killed and brought to life several times: compare in this collection the story of the "Pomegranate Children" and note to that story. In one of Ralston's Russian Folk-Tales, "The Fiend," p. 15, the heroine is killed through witchcraft: from her grave springs a flower which is herself transformed: she afterwards regains her human shape.

8. With Phúlmati's last transformation compare the last that the Bél-Princess goes through (p. 148 of this collection), and that of a woman, who figures in a Dinájpur story published by Mr. G. H. Damant in the Indian Antiquary of April 5th, 1872, vol. I. p. 115. She, though living in the Rakshas country, is not a Rakshas, but does not appear to be an ordinary mortal, and when cut to bits by a certain magic knife becomes a tree. "Her feet became a silver stem, her two hands golden branches, her head ornaments were diamond leaves, all her bracelets and bangles were pearly fruits, and her head was a peacock dancing and playing in the branches." As soon as the magic knife is thrown to the ground she regains her human form.

Eisenlaci in Stier's Ungarische Sagen und Maerchen (pp. 107-109) comes in the form of a horse to the twelve-headed dragon's house. He is killed; the first two drops of his blood are thrown into the garden and from them springs a tree with golden apples: the tree is cut down, but the first two chips (which are flung into the pond) become a gold fish: the gold fish turns into Eisenlaci himself in human form.

9. Winning a wife by seizing her dress while she bathes is an incident common to fairy tales of many countries.

 

GLOSSARY.

Bél, a fruit; Ægle marmelos.

Bulbul, a kind of nightingale.

Chaprásí, a messenger wearing a badge (chaprás).

Cooly (Tamil kúli), a labourer in the fields; also a porter.

Dál, a kind of pulse; Phaseolus aureus, according to Wilson; Paspalum frumentaceum, according to Forbes.

Dom (the d is lingual), a low-caste Hindú.

Fakír, a Muhammadan religious mendicant.

Ghee (ghí), butter boiled and then set to cool.

Kází, a Muhammadan Judge.

Kotwál, the chief police officer in a town.

Líchí, a fruit; Scytalia litchi, Roxb.

Mahárájá (properly Maháráj), literally great king.

Mahárání, literally great queen.

Mainá, a kind of starling.

Maund (man), a measure of weight, about 87 lb.

Mohur (muhar), a gold coin worth 16 rupees.

Nautch (nátya), a union of song, dance, and instrumental music.

Pálkí, a palanquin.

Pice (paisa), a small copper coin.

Pilau, a dish made of either chicken or mutton, and rice.

Rájá, a king.

Rakshas, a kind of demon that eats men and beasts.

Rání, a queen.

Rohú, a kind of big fish.

Rupee (rúpíya), a silver coin, now worth about twenty pence.

Ryot (ràíyat), a cultivator.

Sarai, a walled enclosure containing small houses for the use of travellers.

Sárí, a long piece of stuff which Hindú women wind round the body as a petticoat, passing one end over the head.

Sepoy (sipáhí), a soldier.

Wazír, prime minister.

Yogí, a Hindú religious mendicant.

[The end]
Anonymous's short story: Phulmati Rani

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