Latest / Sandman Stories Presents / EP 336: India- Bickermanji The Inquisitive; The Brahmin's Daughter (Dracott)

Transcript

EP 336: India- Bickermanji The Inquisitive; The Brahmin's Daughter (Dracott) · Sandman Stories Presents

• 0:02
  Hello listeners, I'm doing something a little bit different
• 0:05
  here. I'm hosting a pod ad swap with
• 0:09
  the wonderful, wonderful ladies over at Teacher Think Aloud
• 0:13
  podcast. That's Anna and Shay.
• 0:16
  They are professors who talk about teaching English, teaching
• 0:20
  diverse students and the interactions of the teacher and
• 0:25
  students in a way that students feel more accepted, feel heard,
• 0:31
  and it's just a great way to reflect on your own personal
• 0:34
  practice. So they'll give a better intro
• 0:36
  than that. But here is a quick 43 second
• 0:41
  hello from them. And if you like them, go ahead
• 0:45
  and go listen to them. All right, let's begin.
• 0:49
  Are you an English language educator looking to grow and
• 0:52
  feel more confident in your career?
• 0:54
  I'm Anna. And I'm Shay.
• 0:56
  And we're the hosts of the Teacher Think Aloud podcast,
• 0:59
  your source for classroom inspiration, teaching tips, and
• 1:02
  career advice. On the podcast, we interview ELT
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  experts from around the world to discuss the latest TESOL trends
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  and issues. From AI for language learning to
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  the foundations of English language teaching, we cover the
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  gamut of ELT topics, all in a fun and insightful format.
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  Listen to us on your commute, while working out, or whenever
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  you consume your podcasts. Subscribe on Spotify, Apple
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  Podcasts, YouTube, or wherever you get your podcasts.
• 2:00
  Welcome back listeners to Sandman's Stories Presents, a
• 2:03
  folklore podcast where I read you to sleep or until the next
• 2:05
  story. I'm your host, Dustin.
• 2:07
  And if you want more Sandman that's too spicy for the main
• 2:10
  feed, go and check us out on Patreon.
• 2:14
  I say us, it's me and you'll see my research.
• 2:17
  Any sort of stories that are too spicy for the main feed.
• 2:20
  I put all that over there. And today we are back in the
• 2:24
  book of Indian folklore written down by Alistair Cott.
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  In the first story, the Raja is inquisitive but he may have
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  rushed to judgement. Can his wise old mother-in-law
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  get him straightened out? And in the second story we have
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  a quick stepmother's story which only the daughter is someone to
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  root for. OK, let's begin.
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  Bickarmanji the inquisitive. There was a certain Raja whose
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  name was Bickarmanji. He was very inquisitive and he
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  always wished to know everything that was going on in his Kingdom
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  and what his subjects were doing.
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  At night he disguised himself in common clothes and a blanket and
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  walked quietly in the streets and bazaars to spy on people.
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  Next day, when complaints were brought to him of doings of this
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  or that person, he knew all about it.
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  In this way he observed that a certain woman, the wife of
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  Ubunya, used to leave her home every night carrying a clay pot
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  called a chutti on her head and carrying some food.
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  Arriving at the river, she floated the chutti and sat upon
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  it, thus getting a passage to the other side, where she
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  visited the fakir. Early in the morning she
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  returned carrying a teti full of water for the day's use, and
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  since this was a normal custom of the native women in the east,
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  it was never suspected that she spent nearly the whole night
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  away from her home. Bickermanzi observed all this
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  and wondered to himself how the matter would end.
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  One day the woman's husband who had been away in another
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  country, came back, so she had to make his food.
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  That being so, she could not sneak away as early as usual.
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  When she arrived, the fakir was upset with her late arrival and
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  because she made excuses because her husband was home.
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  What do I care about your husband?
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  Said the fakir. Is he better than a holy man?
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  Go this moment and bring me his head.
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  This she did, much to the fakir's surprise.
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  But instead of being pleased at her obedience to his wishes, he
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  was angry and said, If you killed your husband, you'll one
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  day kill me also. So he drove her from his
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  presence, and she returned to her own home, whereupon, taking
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  her husband's head upon her knee, she set up a great weeping
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  and lamentation which attracted all her neighbors and brought
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  them all together. My husband has only just
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  returned from a journey bringing his money, and see the thieves
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  have stolen his money and murdered him during the night.
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  Her neighbors believed this and prepared to carry her husband to
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  the burning gut for he was a Hindu.
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  While they did this, the woman was declared that she would
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  follow and she would perform the sacred rite of the suti or being
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  burnt upon her husband's funeral pyre.
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  Although impressed by her supposed devotion to her
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  husband, her friends wrote to Bikermanji and begged him to
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  stop her. Bikermanji knew all that had
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  really happened and was meant to show his own wisdom and the
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  woman's crime also to punish her as he thought best.
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  So he promptly forbade the suti. The widow then wrote to the Raja
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  Bikramanji's stepmother, a very clever woman, and asked her to
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  intercede that she may die with her husband.
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  Then his stepmother said, My son, allow this sati to take
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  place, and with eight days I will give you my reasons.
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  This aroused the curiosity of his nature, and much against his
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  will he consented. So the woman had her own way.
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  He waited impatiently for the 8 days to be over, and then he
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  went to his stepmother, who ordered a Dooley and taking a
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  goat with her, asked him to accompany her to the nearest
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  temple. Arriving there, she asked him to
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  stand at the door and left the goat outside.
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  When I come to the door, if I say kill, you are to kill the
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  goat, but if not, stay where you are, were the old woman's
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  instructions as she went to make her offering of fruit and
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  flowers and sweets. Soon she returned and said kill,
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  so Bikermanji cut off the head of the goat.
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  Sit upon the head, my son. He did as he was told, but no
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  sooner had he done so when the head rose up into the air with
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  him, away through the space of hundreds of miles until he came
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  to the wall, which surrounded a space of 12 miles squared.
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  In this was a garden and a beautiful house, and after a
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  wandering around for some little time, Bikermanji found food and
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  water and a comfortable couch to lie upon and a hookah to smoke.
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  But not a human being was seen anywhere.
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  This puzzled him, but as he was both hungry and tired, he made a
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  good meal, smoked his hookah, and lay down to sleep.
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  If I sleep, I sleep, if I die, I die.
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  A man can die but once. Now the place belonged to an
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  Indian fairy called a Puri, who used to come during the night
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  and stay away all day. The servants come an hour or two
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  beforehand just to see that everything was comfortable, and
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  when they found Bikramanji lying fast asleep, they wished to kill
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  him. But an old woman interceded on
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  his behalf, so they left him alone until the Puri came.
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  Bikramanji was greatly surprised to see a strange winged creature
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  standing before him and expected immediate death.
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  But the strange 1 spoke kindly and begged him not to fear, but
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  to make the place like his home for as long as he liked.
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  Each day passed quietly, and in the pleasures and ease of this
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  present existence, Bikarmanji soon forgot about his Kingdom,
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  his wife and his children before going away. 1 morning, the Puri
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  said, There are 4 rooms in this house which you must never open.
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  I will point them out to you, but for the rest you may use
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  them as you will. This request at once excited
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  Bikarmanji's old spirit of curiosity, and as soon as he
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  found himself alone, he went quickly to the door of the first
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  room and opened it. Within stood a horse which
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  turned gladly towards him and said.
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  I have not seen the lie today, or had an hour's freedom ever
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  since I was given to the fairy by the Rajasutra.
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  If you Take Me Out, I will show you all the world, and even the
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  secret place where the fairies dance.
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  Bikramanji was delighted, and immediately let out the horse,
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  which he saddled, mounted, and rode for a wonderful and
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  delightful ride. In the evening the fairy, or
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  Puri again warned him against opening any of the forbidden
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  doors, but the very next day he opened the second one and found
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  a large elephant chained up. The elephant complained bitterly
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  of its fate, and begged Bikermanji to pity it and take
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  it out, which, if he did it, would in return show him much
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  that was wonderful in the world. So Bikermanji again had a very
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  interesting day. The following day he opened up
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  the third door and found a camel inside.
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  It too took him to all sorts of new places, which were the
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  haunts of the fairy beings. Now only one door was left.
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  Bickarmanji was determined to open that also, and when he did,
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  he beheld a donkey standing inside.
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  The donkey complained, just as the other animals had done, and
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  begged for its release. But as Bickarmanji mounted it
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  for his usual ride, he found himself back in his old Kingdom.
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  My back aches, said the donkey. Leave me a while to rest, and
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  you go in the meantime to the nearest bazaar for food.
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  When you return, you'll find me here.
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  But when Bikrimanji had returned, there was no donkey to
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  be seen. So he tore his hair and whipped
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  bitterly and asked all the passers by if they had seen his
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  goody or donkey. Many of the inhabitants of the
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  town recognized him and said, Our Raja has come back and is
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  asking for his guddi, which in Hindustani means throne as well
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  as donkey. At last his stepmother heard of
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  his return and sent for him. He told her that he would give
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  anything to be able to return to the place where the donkey had
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  brought him from. Was it not I who sent you there?
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  She replied, and could I not send you back again?
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  What are you willing to do in order to return?
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  Are you willing to slay your own son to go?
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  Yes, I would do even that. Well, come with me as before, to
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  the temple, only instead of a goat, take your son with you and
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  a sword. When I say kill, you must kill,
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  but not before. So the three went to the temple,
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  and the stepmother stood in the doorway and cried.
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  Kill. But before the Roger could raise
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  his sword, she rushed forward and seized it.
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  Stop. Do not kill your son.
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  Do you remember the Sati and how you judged her and wished to
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  punish her for killing her husband on account of a friend?
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  And now you will kill your own son for the sake of pleasure.
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  All that has happened has been done to teach you a lesson.
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  Go to your palace and therefore reign with greater wisdom than
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  before. The moral is, judge not that ye
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  be not judged. The end.
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  OK, and the second story, The Brahman's daughter.
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  A certain Brahman's wife had no affection for her seven
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  stepdaughters and persuaded their father to get rid of them.
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  So he invited the girls to come with him on a visit to their
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  grandmother. But on the way he slipped away
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  quietly and left them eating plums in the jungle.
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  After a while they found themselves all alone, and as
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  night fell they were very frightened and hid themselves in
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  the hollow of a large tree. Here a tiger found them and ate,
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  6 leaving only the youngest sister alive.
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  She hid in the tree for several days, and at last A Raja found
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  her and asked her how she got there.
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  Then she told him the whole story, and he felt pity for her
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  and married her. But she often wondered what had
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  become of her father and whether he was alive or dead.
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  And when she remembered the fate of her sisters, she secretly
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  made-up her mind to get revenge on her stepmother.
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  Then she called a crow and asked if it would go to her former
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  home with a letter from her. In the letter she told her
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  father of her sister's fate and of her own good fortune.
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  The crow carried the news to her father, and, greatly surprised,
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  he read the contents of his daughter's letter to his wife.
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  The woman was a mercenary as well as cruel, and she advised
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  him to lose no time in visiting her and bringing back all the
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  money he could secure. So the Brahman went and spent
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  eight or nine days in the palace.
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  As he was preparing to return home, the girl called to him and
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  gave him a box containing a snake, a scorpion, and a wasp.
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  As it was securely locked, he had no suspicion of the
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  contents. Take this, she said, and give it
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  with a key to my mother. Let her be alone in a room when
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  she receives it, so that she may enjoy my gifts by herself.
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  Then she gave him another box full of clothes and jewels and
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  money for himself. After a long time, the Brahman
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  arrived at his home and said to his wife, This box is for me and
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  this one is for you. Keep it carefully and open it
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  when you're alone. Here's the key.
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  So saying, he went out and shut the door and put on the chain.
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  Soon the woman began to cry. I'm bitten, I am bitten.
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  But he mistook it, for I have eaten, I have eaten.
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  Meaning that he should come and share the feast.
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  So he replied, I have my own share.
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  You eat. What's your own share?
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  When he opened the door he found her dead.
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  So he packed up his things and returned to his daughter and
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  lived happily ever after. The end.
• 14:35
  Wow, the ending of the second story.
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  They sound like an awful family and there are echoes of other
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  stories from other cultures with wicked stepmom and seven
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  daughters. And the first story seems a bit
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  all over the place. It seems like a story that would
• 14:49
  be much better understood in its original language, but Oh well.
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  And there are fortune stories left, so probably another 5
• 14:56
  episodes or so and I'll be replacing it with an Arab and
• 14:59
  Persian folk tale book. And the podcast Shout out is to
• 15:03
  the history of English. Kevin does a great job of
• 15:06
  marrying history and linguistics and it is a whole college level
• 15:10
  course for free done by somebody who loves the language.
• 15:13
  So go and listen. And the listener shout out is to
• 15:17
  Chandigarh, the capital of Punjab.
• 15:20
  It's only been around since 1953 when the city of Lahore was
• 15:23
  seated to Pakistan. And if I'm lucky enough to visit
• 15:26
  the Chandis Fort, I would love to go and see the Rose Festival.
• 15:30
  And so I say to my Lister in Chandigarh, I say Davin Vada
• 15:34
  Atasubra Ratri. Thank you and good night.