Latest / Sandman Stories Presents / EP 274: Bengal- The Origin of Opium (Day)

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EP 274: Bengal- The Origin of Opium (Day) · Sandman Stories Presents

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  None. Welcome back, listeners to Sam
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  Man's Story's Presents Folklore podcast, where I read you to
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  sleep or until the next story. I'm your host, Dustin.
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  Today we are back in the book of Bengal folklore written down by
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  Lal Bahari Day. In this story, we see a mouse
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  trade its way up but never be satisfied.
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  It's got echoes of the Fisherman's Wife.
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  OK, let's begin. The Origin of Opium Once Upon a
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  time there lived a Rishi on the banks of the holy Ganga, who
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  spent his days and nights in the performance of religious rites
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  and in meditation upon God. From sunrise to sunset he sat on
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  the river bank engaged in devotion, and at night he took
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  shelter in a Hut of palm leaves which his own hand had raised in
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  a Bush hard by. There were no men and women for
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  miles around in the Hut. However, there was a mouse which
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  used to live upon the crumbs of the Rishi's supper.
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  As it was not in the nature of the sage to hurt any living
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  thing, our mouse never ran away from him, but On the contrary,
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  went to him, touched his feet, and played with him.
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  The Rishi, partly and kindness to the little brute and partly
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  to have someone to talk to, at times gave the mouse the power
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  of speech. One night, the mouse standing on
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  its hind legs and joining together its four legs
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  reverently said to the Rishi. Holy sage, you have been so kind
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  as to give me the power to speak like men.
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  If it does not displease your reverence, I have one more boon
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  to ask. What is it?
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  Said the Rishi. What is it, little mousey?
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  Say what you want, the mouse answered.
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  When your reverence. Goes in the.
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  Day to the Riverside for devotion.
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  A cat comes to the Hut to catch me, and had it not been for the
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  fear of your reverence, the cat would have eaten me up long.
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  Ago. And I fear it will eat me
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  someday. My prayer is that I may be
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  changed into a cat. That I might prove a match.
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  For my foe. The Rishi became propitious to
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  the mouse and threw some holy water on its body, and it was at
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  once changed into a cat. Some nights after, the Rishi
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  asked his pet. Well, little puss, how do you
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  like your present life? Not much, your reverence,
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  answered the cat. Why not?
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  Demanded the sage. Are you not strong enough to
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  hold your own against all the cats in the world?
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  Yes, rejoined the cat. Your reverence has made me a
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  strong cat, able to cope with all the cats in the world.
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  But I do not now fear cats. I have a new foe.
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  Whenever your reverence goes to the Riverside, a pack of dogs
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  comes to the Hut and sets up such a loud barking that I am
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  frightened out of my life. If your reverence will not be
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  displeased with me, I beg you to change me into a dog.
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  The Rishi said be turned into a dog, and the cat forthwith
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  became a dog. Some days passed when one night
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  the dog thus said to the Rishi. I cannot thank your reverence
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  enough for the kindness to me. I was but a poor mouse, and you
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  not only gave me speech, but turned me into a cat, and again
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  you were kind enough to change me into a dog.
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  As a dog, however, I suffer a great deal of trouble.
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  I do not get enough food. My only food is the leftovers of
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  your supper, but that is not sufficient to fill the maw of
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  such a large beast as you have made me.
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  Oh, how I envy those apes who jump around from tree to tree
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  and eat all sorts of delicious fruits.
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  If your reverence will not get angry with me, I pray that I may
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  be changed into an ape. The kind hearted sage readily
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  granted his pet's wish and the dog became an ape.
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  Our ape was at first wild with joy.
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  He leaped from one tree to another and sucked every
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  luscious fruit he could find. But his joy was short lived.
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  Summer came on with its drought. As a monkey, he found it hard to
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  drink the water out of a river of a pool.
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  He saw wild boars splashing in the water all day long.
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  He envied their lot and exclaimed, Oh, how happy all the
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  boars are. All day their bodies are cooled
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  and refreshed by the water. I wish I was a boar.
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  Accordingly, at night he recounted to the Rishi the
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  troubles of the life of an ape and the pleasures of that of a
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  boar, and begged him to change him into a boar.
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  The sage, whose kindness knew no bounds, complied with his pet's
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  request and turned him into a wild boar.
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  For two whole days our boar kept his body soaking wet, and on the
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  third day, as he was splashing about in his favorite element,
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  whom should he see but the king of the country, riding on a
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  richly comparisoned elephant? The king was out hunting, and it
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  was only by a lucky chance that our boar escaped being bagged.
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  He dwelt in his own mind on the dangers of attending life as a
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  wild boar, and envied the life of the stately elephant, who was
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  so fortunate as to carry about the king of the country on his
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  back. He longed to be an elephant, and
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  at night he besought the Rishi to make him one.
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  Our elephant was roaming around in the wilderness when he saw
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  the king out hunting. The elephant went towards the
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  King's suite with the view of being caught.
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  The king, seeing the elephant at a distance, admired it on the
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  account of its beauty, and gave orders that it should be caught
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  and tamed. Our elephant was easily caught
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  and taken into the royal stables, where it was soon
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  tamed. It so happened that the queen
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  expressed her wish to bathe in the waters of the holy Ganga.
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  The King, who wished to accompany his royal consort,
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  ordered that the newly caught elephant should be brought to
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  him. The king and Queen mounted on
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  his back. One would suppose that the
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  elephant had now got his wishes, as the king had mounted on his
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  back. But no, there was a family in
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  the ointment. The elephant, who looked upon
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  himself as a lordly beast, could not stand the idea that a woman,
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  though a queen, should ride on his back.
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  He thought himself degraded. He jumped up so violently that
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  both the king and Queen fell to the ground.
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  The king carefully picked up the Queen, took her in his arms, and
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  asked her whether she had been much hurt, wiped off the dust
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  from her clothes with his handkerchief, and tenderly
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  kissed her 100 times. Our elephant, after witnessing
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  the King's caresses, scampered off to the woods as fast as his
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  legs could carry him. As he ran, he thought within
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  himself. Thus.
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  After all, I see that the Queen is the happiest of all
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  creatures. Of what infinite regard is she
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  the object? The king lifted her up, took her
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  in his arms, made many tender inquiries, wiped the dust from
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  her clothes with his own royal hands, and kissed her 100 times.
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  Oh, the happiness of being a queen.
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  I must tell the Rishi to make me a queen.
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  So saying, the elephant, after traversing the woods, went at
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  sunset to the Rishi's Hut and fell prostate on the ground at
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  the feet of the holy sage. The Rishi said, Well, what's the
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  news? Why have you left the King's
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  service? What shall I say to your
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  reverence? You have been very kind to me.
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  You have granted every wish of mine.
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  I have one more boon to ask, and it will be the last.
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  By becoming an elephant, I have got only my bulk increase, but
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  not my happiness. I see that of all the creatures,
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  the Queen is the happiest in the world.
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  Do Holy Father make me a queen? The Rishi replied.
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  Silly child, how can I make you a queen?
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  Where can I get a Kingdom for you, and a royal husband to
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  boot? All I can do is change you into
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  an exquisitely beautiful girl possessed of charms to captivate
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  the heart of the Prince if ever the gods grant you an interview
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  with some great Prince. Our elephant agreed to the
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  change and in a moment the scaceous beast was transformed
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  into a beautiful young lady to whom the holy sage gave the name
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  of Postimani, or the poppy seed. Lady Postimani lived in the
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  Rishi's Hut and spent her time tending the flowers and watering
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  the plants. One day, as she was sitting at
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  the door of the Hut during the Rishi's absence, she saw a man
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  dressed in very rich garb coming towards the cottage.
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  She stood up and asked the stranger who he was and what he
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  had come there for. The stranger answered that he
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  had come a hunting through those parts, that he had been chasing
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  in vain a deer, that he felt thirsty, and that he came to the
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  Hut of the hermit for refreshment.
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  Postmani said. Stranger, look upon this cot is
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  your own house. I'll do everything I can to make
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  you comfortable. I'm only sorry that we are too
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  poor to suitably entertain a man of your rank, for if I mistake
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  not, you are the king of this country.
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  The king smiled. Postimani then brought out a
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  water pot and made as if she would wash the feet of a royal
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  guest with her own hands. When the king said, Holy maid,
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  do not touch my feet, for I am only a Chhatria and you are the
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  daughter of a holy sage, Postimani.
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  No, Sir, I am not the daughter of the Rishi, neither am I the
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  Brahmini girl, so there can be no harm in touching your feet.
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  Besides, you are my guest and I am bound to wash your feet.
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  Forgive my impertinence. What caste do you belong to?
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  I have heard from the sage that my parents were Shaktrias.
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  May I ask you whether your father was a king?
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  For your uncommon beauty and your stately demeanour show that
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  you were born a Princess. Postimani, without answering the
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  question, went inside the Hut, brought out a tray of the most
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  delicious fruits and said it before the king.
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  The king, however, would not touch the fruits till the maid
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  had answered his questions. When pressed hard, Postermani
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  gave the following answer. The holy sage said that my
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  father was a king. Having being overcome in battle,
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  he along with my mother fled into the woods.
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  My poor father was eaten up by a tiger and my mother at that time
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  was brought to my bed and she closed her eyes as I opened
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  mine. Strange to say, there was a
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  beehive on the tree at the foot of which I lay.
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  Drops of honey fell into my mouth and kept alive the spark
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  of life till the kind Rishi found me and brought me into
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  this Hut. This is the simple story of the
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  wretched girl who now stands before the king.
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  Do not call yourself wretched. You are the loveliest and most
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  beautiful of women. You would adorn the palace of
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  the mightiest sovereign. The upshot was that the king
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  made love to the girl and they were joined in marriage by the
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  Rishi. Postamani was treated as the
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  favorite queen and the former queen was in disgrace.
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  Postamani's happiness, however, was short lived.
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  One day she was standing by a well.
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  She became giddy and fell into the water and died.
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  The Rishi then appeared before the king and said, O king,
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  grieve not over what was past. What is fixed by fate must come
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  to pass. The queen who had just been
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  drowned was not of royal blood. She was born a mouse.
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  I then changed her successively, according to her own wish, into
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  a cat, a dog, an ape, a boar, an elephant and a beautiful girl.
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  Now that she is gone, do you again take you into favour your
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  former queen? As for my reputed daughter,
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  through the favour of the gods, I'll make her name a mortal.
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  Let her body remain in the well. Out of her flesh and bones will
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  grow a tree which shall be called after her.
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  Posto, that is the Poppy Tree. From this tree will be obtained
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  a drug called opium, which will be celebrated as a powerful
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  medicine through all the ages, and will always be either
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  swallowed or smoked as a wonderful narcotic to the end of
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  time. The opium swallower or smoker
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  will have one quality of each of the animals to which Postmani
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  was transformed. He will be mischievous like a
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  mouse, fond of milk like a cat, quarrelsome like a dog, filthy
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  like an ape, savage like a boar, and high tempered like a queen.
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  Thus my story endeth the Nadia, Thorn, Withereth, etcetera.
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  The end. Wow, that was not how I expected
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  the story to end. The sudden drowning at the end
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  was pretty awful, but I guess it helped the story along.
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  I do like how they treat opium as a medicine, which is what it
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  was used for for a long time and might still be.
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  I like the echoes of The Fisherman's Wife where the
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  unhappy lot keeps trading up until it catches up with them.
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  And I look forward to many more stories from this book and the
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  podcast. Shout out.
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  This week is to a favorite of mine, The Endless Knot Podcast.
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  Run by a couple of very nerdy professors, The Endless Knot
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  goes through and finds connections and etymologies.
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  And in the classics. Avon and Mark are really nice
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  folks and have support to this podcast from the beginning.
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  And so if you like their show as much as I do, go and give them a
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  rating, a like and a review. And the listener shout out is to
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  Kohima in Nagaland, India, formerly known as Kohira.
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  The city is home to 100,000 people, around the same as my
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  hometown. It is the site of the Battle of
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  Kohima where the Allied forces were able to repel the Japanese
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  army who are on their way to controlling the South and East
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  Asia. The city is in the Far East of
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  Asia between Bangladesh and Myanmar.
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  It would be nice someday to visit, even if it is just to get
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  some fresh tea and visit the Kohima Wars Cemetery located on
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  a former tennis court. I found a phrase book for the
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  Egami not A and I was able to get something kind of close to
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  my sign out phrase. And so to my one listener in
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  Kohima, I say naja fei Ki dupio chi baga and API ke rigba.
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  What have you been doing all day?
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  And my foot is asleep. Thank you and good night.