Latest / Sandman Stories Presents / EP 323: India- The Story of Pir Sab; The Origin of a River; The Golden Scorpions; The Story of a Pearl; The Bunniah’s Ghost (Dracott)

Transcript

EP 323: India- The Story of Pir Sab; The Origin of a River; The Golden Scorpions; The Story of a Pearl; The Bunniah’s Ghost (Dracott) · Sandman Stories Presents

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  Welcome back listeners to Sandman Stories Presents, a
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  folklore podcast where I read you to sleep or until the next
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  story. I'm your host, Dustin.
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  And if you want more Sandman that is too spicy for the main
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  feed, you can go over to patreon.com and look for Sandman
• 0:35
  Stories After Dark. And the lowest tier is free.
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  So go ahead and jump on for free.
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  Today we are back in the Book of Shimla Village Tales by Alistair
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  Cott. We have 5 tales covering
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  miracles, origins, shifty merchants, golden beggars, and a
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  ghost in a tree. OK, let's begin the story of
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  pure SOB. Very, very far away in the north
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  of India is a big river, and many years ago there lived not
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  very far from its banks an old woman who had only a daughter, a
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  beautiful girl who, when she grew up, was given in marriage
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  to a man who lived in the village on the opposite Bank of
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  the river. And all details being arranged,
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  a day was fixed for the marriage party with the bride to
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  crossover a gay company, with song and music set out, and
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  everything went well until they reached the middle of the
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  stream. The current is strong and
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  dangerous in that place, and in less time than it takes to say
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  it. The joyous party, with its music
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  and songs and drummers and the litter which held the bride, was
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  hurtled into the seething water, and every soul sank and was
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  drowned. The old woman alone, who had
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  remained at home on account of her feeble age, escaped, and was
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  indeed sad when she heard her daughter's fate.
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  Her own home grew lonely and uncongenial to her, so in 1/2
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  frenzied state she took herself to the Riverside, and there she
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  spent many hours every day calling to the river to give up
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  her dad. This went on for 20 years.
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  One day Peer Saab, a pious Muhammadian, arrived there was
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  about to say his prayers when the old woman attracted his
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  attention. Pray, why do you weep, old
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  woman? He said.
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  For my child, a beautiful bride who with all of her wedding
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  guests was drowned in this river 20 years ago, 20 years, and you
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  have mourned so long. Thus saying, Peer Saab
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  dismounted from his horse, and covering his head with a sheet,
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  he stood by the river and cried, O river, restore the dead, O
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  river, restore the dead, O river, restore the dead.
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  At the third cry a bridal party was seen to approach, and the
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  long lost ones with the young bride were restored to the old
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  woman, as unchanged as they were on the day that they drowned,
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  and imperfect ignorance of the flight of years.
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  A voice was then heard from the great unseen which said, O
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  Pierce AB, I've heard your prayer.
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  At first cry these restored ones came forth from the fishes who
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  had eaten them. At your second call I reformed
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  them into human form, and at your third call they went forth
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  with life. Now who was Pierce AB, and how
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  do you possess his power? Muhammad, peace be upon him,
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  while he was upon earth, sometimes took flights into
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  heaven. On such occasions he generally
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  called on upon anybody near at hand to assist him or to give
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  him a push upwards. On one occasion he had called
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  thrice for help without meeting any response.
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  When Pierce Saab, A strongman, knelt before him, and with 1
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  spring from his shoulder, Muhammad, peace be upon him,
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  reached the 4th heavens. In return for this kindness it
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  is granted to Pierce AB to perform miracles.
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  The End. OK and story #2 The origin of a
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  river on the old Agra, Bombay Rd.
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  There stands between Guna and Central India and Jhansi a small
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  village beside a stream, and this used to be a bathing stage
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  for travelers in the old days before railways were known in
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  India. In the village there once lived
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  a man whose wife had died, leaving only a daughter.
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  The girl, as she grew into womanhood, had a very bad time
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  of it. As all the housework fell upon
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  her shoulders. She had to cook her father's
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  food and carry it to him in the fields, to draw water for the
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  cattle and look after them, and besides many other things which
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  took up her time and strength. So she invoked the aid of the
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  gods. Next time she went to the water
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  to draw from the well, which was a very deep 1 and required a
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  long, long rope for the bucket. She looked in and low.
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  The water had risen to the top and was almost overflowing, so
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  there was no need to draw anymore, and her father's cattle
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  stood around and drank their fill.
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  Then she filled a Chetty with water and enjoyed a bath in the
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  sunshine. After a time the water sank back
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  down to its usual level. Thus far all was well, but her
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  father had noticed how quickly the cattle had been watered and
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  how soon his daughter had returned home.
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  Also he missed the long rope which she always carried on her
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  arm. He began to suspect that some
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  unknown man, a stranger to himself, helped her, and he was
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  determined to see. A great fig tree grew beside the
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  well, and one day he concealed himself in its branches.
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  As usual, his daughter came with the cattle, and it happened all
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  as before. He was struck with wonder and
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  amazement at what he saw. Just as the girl was about to
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  take her usual bath, she looked up and saw him.
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  In a moment she felt that he had suspected her of some evil
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  father. She cried.
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  Why do you look at your daughter with an evil eye?
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  Don't you believe that the gods have helped her?
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  But before her father could reply, she sank down to the
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  bottom of the well, the water, and never rose again.
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  For the outrage. Gods took her to themselves, and
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  in a token of their displeasure, the well was cleft from the top
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  to the bottom, and the hillocks formed on either side.
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  From the spot flows a tiny stream, which, if you follow it,
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  becomes a mighty river. The end.
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  OK, and the third story, The Golden Scorpions.
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  In a certain village there lived a poor man who went out daily to
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  beg, carrying in his hand a small bowl like the yogis or
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  Holi fakirs in India use. In it he carried his scanty meal
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  of flour each evening. One day he placed the empty
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  gourd on the ground and went a little distance to drink water.
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  On his return he was amazed to find it full of scorpions.
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  Seizing it on one side, he carefully knocked it against a
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  stone until the venomous things dropped off.
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  Great indeed was his surprise to find, when he next looked into
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  his gourd, that several scorpions still clung to it, but
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  have been transformed by the gods into pure gold, although
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  their forms were retained. Thus the good old man was
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  enriched, but great was his disappointment when he
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  remembered how many scorpions he had thrown away, for these might
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  also have turned into gold had he kept them.
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  The moral is there is good sometimes and even the evil
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  things in life. The end.
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  OK and story #4 The story of a Pearl.
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  A poor Workman and his wife were at once almost starving.
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  Every day the man gathered sticks and sold them while the
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  woman remained at home. Wife.
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  The man said, One day come, we will both go and gather wood for
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  sale today, so that even if we earn enough, we shall not only
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  eat rice, but also buy a small fish and eat that too.
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  The woman agreed, and having sold their stock of firewood,
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  they returned home with a fish for dinner.
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  Upon opening it, a small white bead, round and shining, fell on
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  the floor. The woman was attracted by its
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  brightness and locked up in a box.
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  Many days of poverty and hunger visited that household before
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  the woman remember the pretty stone she had found in the fish?
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  But at last she thought of it and took it to a Bunia, who said
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  as soon as he set eyes on it. Give me that, and I will give
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  you so much ghee and food as oil as you can carry, not only today
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  but for many days, if you'll just please come to my shop.
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  The foolish woman parted with her treasure, not knowing that
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  it was a Pearl of great value, and returned home laden with
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  good things. The Bunya chuckled with delight.
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  He was crafty like all Bunyas, and, you may depend, never kept
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  his promise. Such was the foolishness of the
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  woman, and such the cunning and greed of the man.
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  The end. All right and start #5 the
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  boonies ghost. Far away in a valley in the
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  Himalayan mountains lies a little village where a good man
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  once lived who had a field beside his home, in which grew a
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  beautiful Mulberry tree, so big and so beautiful it was a wonder
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  of the surrounding countryside. Hundreds of people wanted to
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  gather beneath it, and the poor carried away basket loads of its
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  fruit. Thus it became a meeting place
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  where a Mela or a fair was held when the fruit season was on.
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  Now the fame of it reached a certain Raja who had rented out
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  the land, and one day he came with all of his retinue to see
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  it. There is no such tree in the
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  royal garden, said the Grand Vizier.
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  It is not right that a subject should have what the Raja does
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  not, added the Prime Minister. The Roger replied not a word,
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  for his heart was filled with envy.
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  And that night, before going to bed, he gave orders that on a
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  certain day, in the early dawn, before anybody was astir, a
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  party of armed men should take their axes to the village and
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  chop the Mulberry tree to the ground.
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  But I'll dreams disturbed the Rajas rest, and he could not
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  sleep. Could it be fancy, or did he
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  really see a strange man standing before him?
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  The strange man spoke. O King, live forever.
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  I am the spirit of Ebunia, who died in Yonder village many
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  years ago. During my lifetime I defrauded
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  people. I gave them a short measure and
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  adulterated their food. When I died and passed into the
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  land of the unhappy spirits, the gods were just.
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  O King decreed that I should give back what I had stolen.
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  My soul therefore went into a Mulberry tree, where year after
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  year the people gather fruit and regain their losses.
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  In one more year they will be repaid to the last cowry.
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  But you mean to destroy the tree and drive my soul?
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  I know not where. So I've come to plead with you
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  to spare it just this once. For when a year has passed, it
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  will die on its own, and my soul will find its way to the land of
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  Shadows, which is the abode of the gods, where it will find
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  peace. So the Roger listened, and the
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  strange man went away. For one year longer the people
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  sat as before under the cool shadow of the Mulberry tree, and
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  then it died. And was that all?
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  No, when they cut it down, there was found deep in the earth one
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  living root, and that they left. For who can destroy the soul?
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  The end. 5 shorties that were a lot of
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  fun. I like that there was a Muslim
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  in a mostly Hindu book. Pirsab is a way of saying
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  respected elder in the Sufi religion.
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  The second one references the evil eye and I thought that was
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  pretty cool. I like the little morals in the
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  third and fourth stories and the idea of repaying your debts by
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  being a tree that gives away fruit is a fun way to end this
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  group of stories. And the podcast shout out is to
• 13:15
  our show. It is an awesome hip hop podcast
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  out of Florida. And if you like new music, go
• 13:21
  and give them a listen. And the listener shout out is to
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  Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. Cool thing is this is being
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  recorded in January. So the river of January, Rio de
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  Janeiro. And if I'm lucky enough, I'll
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  visit there someday. I am for sure going to see
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  Ipanema Beach and Sugarloaf Mountain.
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  And so to my listener in the January river, I say in
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  Portuguese, Obregado A bueno. Thank you.
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  Goodnight.