Le commencement : le roi Bikram et le Baital

The Beginning of the Tale

The beginning of the tale is this: in the time of the Emperor Muhammad Shah, Raja Jai Singh Sawai, lord of Jainagar, told the poet Surat that the Baital Pachisi, which is in the Sanskrit tongue, should be retold in Braj Bhasha. Then, by the raja's command, he told it in the speech of Braj. Now, in the reign of the Emperor Shah Alam, and in the time of the Amir-ul-Umara, the most eminent of nobles, the special counsellor of the King of England whose court is as high as Saturn, the noblest of the noble, the Marquess Wellesley, Governor-General (may his rule endure), Mazhar Ali the poet, whose pen-name is Vila, for the learning and understanding of the exalted gentlemen, and by order of Mr John Gilchrist (may his fortune endure), has set it down with the help of Shri Lallu Ji Lal Kavi in plain language that high and low speak, which learned and ignorant, the skilled and the dull, can all understand and find easy, so that no difficulty troubles anyone's mind, and in which much of the speech of Braj remains.

Then, at the instruction of the teacher of Hindi, our benefactor Captain James Mouat (may his fortune endure), Tarini Charan Mitra, for the purpose of printing, removed the Sanskrit and Bhasha words that are little used in the idiom of Rekhta and put in current words. But certain Hindu terms, whose removal would have caused a flaw, he kept as they were. It is hoped that it will find favour.

Here the Story Begins

There was a city called Dharanagar, whose king was Gandharbsen. He had four queens, and by them six sons, each more learned and mighty than the other. As fate would have it, after some days that king died, and in his place his eldest son, named Shank, became king. Then some days later his younger brother Bikram killed his elder brother, became king himself and began to rule well. Day by day his kingdom grew so great that he became king of all Jambudvipa, established a firm rule and founded an era. Some days later the king thought in his heart: I ought to travel and see the countries whose names I hear.

Resolving this in his heart, he handed over the throne to his younger brother Bharthari, became a yogi himself and began wandering from country to country and forest to forest. A Brahmin practised austerities in that city. One day a god brought him the fruit of immortality. Then he brought the fruit home and said to his wife: whoever eats this will become immortal; the god told me so when he gave me the fruit. Hearing this the Brahmin's wife wept a great deal and said: this is a great sin we shall have to suffer, for if we become immortal, how long shall we go on begging? Rather it is better to die, for if we die we shall be freed from the sorrows of the world. Then the Brahmin said: well, I have brought it, but hearing your words my wits have left me; now whatever you tell me, I will do. Then his wife said: give this fruit to the king and take wealth in exchange for it, so that our needs in this world and the next may be met.

Hearing this the Brahmin went to the king and gave him his blessing, told him the story of the fruit and said: Maharaj! Take this fruit and give me some wealth. I am happy so long as your feet live long. Then the king gave the Brahmin a hundred thousand rupees, sent him away, came into the palace, and giving the fruit to the queen he loved most, said, "O Queen! Eat this, and you will become immortal and stay young for ever."

Hearing this the queen took the fruit from the king. The king went out to his court. That queen had a lover, a Kotwal, and she gave him the fruit. As it happened, a courtesan was the Kotwal's friend, and he gave her the fruit and told her of its virtue. That courtesan thought in her mind: this fruit is fit to be given to the king. Settling this in her mind, she went and gave the fruit to the king. The king took the fruit and sent her away with much wealth. And looking at the fruit he grew troubled in heart, turned away from the world and said: the wealth of this world is of no use to anyone, for in the end it leads to hell; better than that is to practise austerities and remain in remembrance of God, so that good may come hereafter.

Resolving this in his heart, he went into the palace and asked the queen: what did you do with that fruit? She said: I ate it. Then the king showed the fruit to the queen; seeing it she was struck dumb and could find no answer. Then the king came out, had the fruit washed and ate it, gave up his kingdom, became a yogi and went off alone to the forest without a word to anyone. Bikram's kingdom was left empty.

When this news reached Raja Indra, he sent a giant to guard Dharanagar. He kept watch over that city day and night. In short, the news spread from country to country that Raja Bharthari had given up the kingdom and gone away. As soon as Raja Bikram heard this news he too came at once to his own land. It was midnight then. At that hour he was entering the city when the giant called out: who are you, and where are you going? Stop, tell me your name.

Then the king said: I am Raja Bikram; I am going into my own city. Who are you to stop me? Then the giant said: the gods have sent me to guard this city; if you are truly Raja Bikram, first fight me, then go into the city. On hearing this the king tucked up his garment and challenged the giant. Then the giant too came to face him and the fight began; at last the king threw the giant down and sat upon his chest. Then he said: O King! You have thrown me down, but I grant you your life. At that the king laughed and said: you have gone mad; to whom are you granting life? If I wish I can kill you; what life will you grant me? Then the demon said: O King! I will save you from death. First hear one thing from me, then rule the whole world without a care.

At last the king let him go and listened to his words with all his heart. Then the giant said to him: in this city there was a king named Chandrabhan, very generous. One day by chance he went out into the forest and what does he see but an ascetic hanging upside down in a tree, living on smoke alone. He took nothing from anyone, nor spoke. Seeing his state the king came home, sat in his court and said: whoever brings this ascetic shall receive a hundred thousand rupees. Hearing this a courtesan came to the king and said: if I have Your Majesty's leave, I will have this very ascetic father a son and bring him back with the boy riding on his shoulder. The king was astonished to hear this and gave her the betel-leaf of the undertaking and sent her off to bring the ascetic. She went into that forest and reached the yogi's place, and what does she see but that yogi really hanging upside down. He neither eats nor drinks and is withering away. At last that courtesan cooked halva and put it in the ascetic's mouth. It tasted sweet to him, so he licked it up. Then the courtesan gave him more.

In this way she fed him halva for two days. From eating it he gained some strength. Then he opened his eyes, came down from the tree and asked her: what have you come here for? The courtesan said: I am a daughter of the gods; I used to practise austerities in heaven, and now I have come to this forest. Then the ascetic said: where is your hut? Show us. Then the courtesan brought the ascetic to her hut and began to feed him dishes of all six flavours, and the ascetic gave up living on smoke and began eating and drinking every day. At last the god of love tormented him, and the ascetic lay with her and lost his yoga. And the courtesan conceived. In the fullness of time a son was born. When he was some months old, that woman said to the ascetic: Gosain-ji, now let us go on a pilgrimage, so that all the sins of the body may be washed away. Beguiling him with such talk, she set the boy on his shoulder and set off for the king's court, where she had taken up the undertaking.

When she came before the king, the king recognized her from afar and, seeing the boy on the ascetic's shoulder, said to the courtiers: look, this is that same courtesan who went to fetch the yogi. They said: Maharaj! You say rightly, it is she, and observe that everything she promised Your Majesty has come to pass.

When the yogi heard these words of the king and the courtiers, he understood that the king had devised this to shake his austerities. Thinking this in his heart, the yogi turned back from there, went out of the city, killed the boy, went into a forest and began his yoga again; and some days later that king died, and the yogi completed his yoga.

In short, the explanation of it is this: you three men were born in one city, under one star, at one auspicious moment. You were born in a king's house, the second was born to an oil-presser, the third, the yogi, was born in a potter's house. You rule here, and the oil-presser's son was lord of the kingdom of the underworld; and that potter has perfected his yoga, killed the oil-presser, made him a ghoul in the burning-ground and hung him upside down in a siris tree, and he is bent on killing you. If you escape him, you will rule. I have warned you of this; do not be careless of it.

Having said this much the giant went away. The king entered his palace. When morning came the king went out and sat in court, and ordered a public audience. All the servants, great and small, came one by one and presented their offerings before him, and the drums of rejoicing began to sound. The whole city was filled with a wonderful joy and gladness, so that everywhere, from house to house, there was dancing and singing. Then the king began to rule justly.

One day a yogi named Shant Shil came into the king's court with a fruit in his hand, gave the fruit into his hand, spread his mat there and sat down. Then after a while he went away. After he had gone the king thought in his mind: let him not be the one the god spoke of. Suspecting this, he did not eat the fruit but called the storekeeper and gave it to him, saying: keep this carefully. But the yogi always came in the same way and left a fruit every day. One day by chance the king had gone to see his stables, and some courtiers were with him, when the yogi too arrived there and gave the fruit into the king's hand in the same way. He began tossing it, when suddenly it fell from his hand to the ground, and a monkey picked it up and broke it. Out of it came such a ruby that the king and his courtiers were amazed at its brilliance.

Then the king said to the yogi: why did you give me this ruby? He said: O Maharaj! It is written in the scriptures that one should not go empty-handed to these places: the king, the guru, the astrologer, the physician and one's daughter; because there fruit brings fruit. O King! What is one ruby to you? In every fruit I have given you there is a jewel. Hearing this the king said to the storekeeper: bring all the fruits I gave you. The storekeeper, at the king's command, brought them at once, and when the fruits were broken, a ruby was found in every one. When he saw so many rubies the king was exceedingly pleased, and sent for a jeweller and had the rubies assayed, and said: nothing goes with us when we die; righteousness is the great thing in this world; tell me truly, by your faith, what each stone is worth.

Hearing this the jeweller said: Maharaj! You have spoken truly; whoever keeps his faith keeps everything. Righteousness alone goes with us, and it serves in both worlds. Hear, Maharaj! Each stone is perfect in its colour, quality and form; even if I said each was worth ten million, it would not be enough. In truth each ruby is worth a whole realm. Hearing this the king was greatly pleased, gave the jeweller a robe of honour and sent him away, then took the yogi by the hand, brought him to the throne and said: my whole kingdom is not worth one ruby; you, who go naked, have given me so many jewels; what is your purpose? Tell me.

The yogi said: O King! It is not proper to reveal so many things. Charms, spells, medicines, religious rites, household affairs, unlawful gain, an evil thing one has heard; all these are not spoken of in company; I will tell you in private. Hear, this is the rule: what falls on six ears does not stay hidden; what is between four ears no one hears; and what is between two ears not even Brahma knows, let alone man.

Hearing this, the king took the yogi aside and asked: Gosain-ji! You have given me so many rubies and not once taken a meal; I am much ashamed before you; tell me whatever you want. The yogi said: O King! On the bank of the Godavari river, in the great burning-ground, I shall perfect a spell, and by it I shall gain the eight supernatural powers; so I ask a boon of you: spend one night with me, and by your being with me my spell will be perfected. Then the king said: very well, I will come; tell me the day.

The yogi said: on the fourteenth of the dark half of Bhadon, a Tuesday, in the evening, come to me alone and armed. The king said: you go, I will surely come alone. Having got the king's word in this way, he took his leave, went to his hermitage, made himself ready, took all the things needed and went and sat in the burning-ground; and here the king began to brood in his heart. Meanwhile that hour arrived. Then the king, girding on his sword and tightening his loincloth, went alone by night to the yogi and greeted him with the yogi's salutation.

The yogi said: come, sit. Then the king sat there, and what does he see but ghosts, goblins and witches in frightful shapes of every kind dancing all around, and the yogi sitting in their midst playing on two skull-drums. Seeing all this the king felt no fear at all, and said to the yogi: what is your command for me? He said: O King, since you have come, do one thing. Two kos south of here there is a burning-ground, in it a siris tree, and in it hangs a corpse; bring it to me at once, for I am performing worship here.

Sending the king off there, he sat himself down and began his chanting. First the dark night was frightening; second, the rain was falling in such torrents as if it would pour today and never rain again; and the ghosts and fiends were making such an uproar that even a hero would be shaken to see it. But the king went on his way. When snakes came and coiled round his feet, he recited a spell and freed himself of them. At last, somehow getting through that hard road, the king reached that burning-ground and saw ghosts seizing men and dashing them down. Witches are chewing the livers of children, tigers are roaring, elephants are trumpeting.

In short, when he looked closely at the tree, every branch and leaf of it, from root to crown, was blazing; and from all four sides a clamour was rising: kill, kill, seize him, beware, let him not escape. The king was not frightened to see this, but he said in his heart: surely this is that yogi of whom the giant told me. And going near he saw a corpse hanging upside down, tied by a rope.

Seeing the corpse the king was glad that his labour had succeeded; he took sword and shield, climbed the tree fearlessly and struck such a blow with his sword that the rope was cut and the corpse fell down, and as soon as it fell it began to wail and howl. But the king, hearing its voice, was pleased and said in his heart: well, this man is alive at least. Then he climbed down and asked it: who are you? On hearing this it burst out laughing. The king was greatly astonished at this. Then the corpse climbed back up the same tree and hung there. The king too climbed up there, tucked it under his arm and brought it down, and said: wretch! Tell me who you are. It gave no answer. The king thought and said in his heart: perhaps this is that oil-presser of whom the giant said that the yogi had made him a ghoul. Thinking this, he tied it up in a sheet and set off with it to the yogi.

The man who shows such daring will succeed. Then the Baital said: who are you, and where are you taking me? The king answered: I am Raja Bikram; I am taking you to the yogi. It said: I will go on one condition: if you speak on the way, I shall turn straight back. The king accepted its condition and carried it along. Then the Baital said: O King! Those who are learned, clever and wise spend their days in the joy of song and scripture, and the dull and foolish spend theirs in quarrelling and sleep. Better than that is that this road should pass in talk of good things. O King, hear the tale I tell.