Indian Children's Favorite Stories Read online

  For Chand, Bela and Suraj—who fill my life and give me room to grow.

  India is a large, beautiful and very complex land with over a billion people. Its folklore, legends and mythology are a richly woven tapestry. Individual stories, like threads, weave in and out and shimmer or shine brilliantly, but it is often difficult to know where they begin and end. What is more, their colors seem to change with the light! As these stories evolved over hundreds of years over a very large geographical area, and have been told orally for generations, there are a myriad of versions—some strange, some funny—but all completely fascinating.

  Some stories in this book are based on folklore and the common man. The motifs remain the same though the details may change. The wise man, the foolish man, the trickster and the clown—the popularity of these characters is undiminished.

  Other stories have religious connotations. While these stories can hold their own on any bookshelf of myths and legends, it is important to remember that they form the core of a way of life that continues to this day.

  All the major religions have followers in India. However, the majority of Indians are Hindus. To attempt to explain the rich philosophy of Hindusim is difficult. Still, one must begin somewhere.

  Most Hindus believe in the concept of one Supreme Being, who in stories is given different names and attributes, resulting in the creation of characters called devas. In English, devas are loosely referred to as “gods” and “goddesses.”

  The three most popular male representations of the Supreme Being in Hindu mythology are Brahma, the Creator; Vishnu, the Preserver; and Shiva, the Destroyer. However, Shiva embodies many contrasts, for he can conquer death as well as destroy. Many of the heroes in myths and legends, such as Rama and Krishna, are human incarnations of Vishnu, the Preserver.

  The female counterparts to these representatives are Saraswati, Goddess of Learning; Lakshmi, Goddess of Light; and Parvati, who, like Shiva, is full of contrasts. She may be seen either as a perfect wife or the fearsome goddess Kali.

  The antagonists or villains in these stories are the demons called rakshasas, or asuras, who usually represent evil.

  Both the devas and rakshasas, or asuras, can have magic powers, including the power to grant blessings or to curse. They can change their shapes and each of them usually has special skills.

  On occasion, the devas, usually representatives of good, may make mistakes and the evil rakshasas or asuras can be heroic. When this happens, the deva may temporarily lose some power, and the rakshasa may gain some. In this way, the universe maintains a fragile balance.

  Folktales, legends and mythology alike, these stories truly come to life again when they are retold or passed on from generation to generation as they have been for thousands of years.

  Published by Tuttle Publishing, an imprint of Periplus Editions (HK) Ltd.

  www.tuttlepublishing.com

  Copyright © 2006 Periplus Editions (HK) Ltd All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission from the publisher.

  LCC Card No: 2006931662

  ISBN: 978-1-4629-0632-1 (ebook)

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  North America, Latin America & Europe

  Tuttle Publishing

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  TUTTLE PUBLISHING® is a registered trademark of Tuttle Publishing, a division of Periplus Editions (HK) Ltd.

  The Tuttle Story: “Books to Span the East and West”

  Most people are surprised when they learn that the world’s largest publisher of books on Asia had its beginnings in the tiny American state of Vermont. The company’s founder, Charles Tuttle, came from a New England family steeped in publishing, and his first love was books—especially old and rare editions.

  Tuttle’s father was a noted antiquarian dealer in Rutland, Vermont. Young Charles honed his knowledge of the trade working in the family bookstore, and later in the rare books section of Columbia University Library. His passion for beautiful books—old and new—never wavered through his long career as a bookseller and publisher.

  After graduating from Harvard, Tuttle enlisted in the military and in 1945 was sent to Tokyo to work on General Douglas MacArthur’s staff. He was tasked with helping to revive the Japanese publishing industry, which had been utterly devastated by the war. After his tour of duty was completed, he left the military, married a talented and beautiful singer, Reiko Chiba, and in 1948 began several successful business ventures.

  To his astonishment, Tuttle discovered that postwar Tokyo was actually a book-lover’s paradise. He befriended dealers in the Kanda district and began supplying rare Japanese editions to American libraries. He also imported American books to sell to the thousands of GIs stationed in Japan. By 1949, Tuttle’s business was thriving, and he opened Tokyo’s very first Englishlanguage bookstore in the Takashimaya Department Store in Ginza, to great success. Two years later, he began publishing books to fulfill the growing interest of foreigners in all things Asian.

  Though a westerner, Charles Tuttle was hugely instrumental in bringing knowledge of Japan and Asia to a world hungry for information about the East. By the time of his death in 1993, he had published over 6,000 books on Asian culture, history and art—a legacy honored by Emperor Hirohito in 1983 with the “Order of the Sacred Treasure,” the highest honor Japan bestows upon non-Japanese.

  The Tuttle company today maintains an active backlist of some 1,500 titles, many of which have been continuously in print since the 1950s and 1960s—a great testament to Charles Tuttle’s skill as a publisher. More than 60 years after its founding, Tuttle Publishing is more active today than at any time in its history, still inspired by Charles’ core mission—to publish fine books to span the East and West and provide a greater understanding of each.

  Contents

  Munna and the Grain of Rice

  The Birth of Krishna

  No Ordinary Lad

  The Story of Rama

  Sukhu and Dukhu

  Tenali Raman

  Journey to Heaven

  The Foolish Man

  Glossary

  Munna and the Grain of Rice

  “Munna, where are you?”

  “Here, Ma!” Munna replied. “I am playing with the elephants.”

  Munna, the elephant keeper’s daughter, lived behind the palace grounds. She had never been to school and couldn’t afford any toys. So instead, she played with what was around her—sand, sticks and stones—and ma
de friends with birds and animals, and even insects.

  She spent many happy hours with the elephants that her family cared for and loved deeply. Sometimes she rode on their backs, pretending that she was a Rani—a queen.

  Munna liked to observe everything around her. She would examine the legs of insects and the wings of butterflies; peer closely at the leaves on the trees and the grains of rice on the stalks of paddy; press her ear against the broad sides of the elephants and listen to the rumblings in the stomachs of these gentle giants. She would even count the hairs on their tails!

  But life in the small kingdom where Munna lived was not easy. The Raja—the king—would say, “I rule my kingdom fairly. I care for my people and I am wise and just. I am a good Raja!”

  The farmers in the kingdom were not so sure. They planted rice, working with bent backs in the fields all day.

  One day the Raja ordered, “From now on, you will bring all your rice to me, except what you need to feed yourselves. I will keep it safe for you in my granary.” The farmers had no choice. They did as they were told. And every year the Raja allowed them just enough rice to keep body and soul together.

  But one year, the rain did not fall and there was a famine. The farmers had no food to give the Raja, or to feed themselves. They waited in vain for the Raja to give them some rice. “But I cannot give you the rice, or there will be none left for me,” said the Raja.

  “A king cannot go hungry, or no one will call him Raja!” The people did not dare say anything.

  Munna, with her bright eyes and enquiring mind, watched as the hungry people starved and grew sad. She wondered what she could do.

  One day, a servant loaded sacks of rice from the granary onto the back of an elephant. He led the elephant towards the royal kitchen. But there was a tiny hole in one of the sacks and some grains of rice fell through. Munna picked them up. She gathered them carefully in her skirt and took them back to the Raja.

  The Raja decided to reward her for her honesty. He offered her gold, silver and jewels. But Munna bowed low and said humbly, “Your Majesty, I am small and I need very little. All I want is one grain of rice.”

  The Raja was surprised. “Nonsense!

  You must have more. After all, I am the Raja.”

  “Your Majesty, if it be your royal command,” said the girl, “I will accept more, but only for one month. Give me one grain of rice on the first day, and on every day following give me only twice what you have given me the day before.”

  The Raja thought it was really too little. But she was, after all, a simple, foolish girl—an elephant keeper’s daughter!— and so he agreed.

  So, on the first day, Munna accepted one grain of rice. On the second day she accepted two grains of rice, on the third day, four, on the fourth day, eight, and so on. She saved them all.

  On the tenth day, Munna was given five hundred and twelve grains—about one handful of rice. Together with all that she had received so far, she now had one thousand and twenty-three grains. She gave it all to her mother, who put it aside carefully.

  On the fourteenth day, which was halfway through the traditional Indian lunar month, Munna was presented with eight thousand, one hundred and ninety-two grains of rice.

  By the next day, there was enough rice to fill four bowls—four bowls for three people! Her mother cooked just as much as the three of them, with their small stomachs, could eat. That night they shared a meal of rice. It was delicious!

  On the twentieth day, Munna was given sixteen small bags of rice. Together with what had come earlier, she now had almost thirty-two small bags of rice. On the twenty-first day, she received more than a million grains of rice—one million, forty-eight thousand, five hundred and seventy-six grains, in fact. Enough to fill a large basket. It looked so big in their tiny little hut! The family moved around it carefully.

  On the twenty-fifth day, she received sixteen baskets. Had they been placed one on top of the other, the pile would have been as high as an elephant. It was a good thing it did not rain then, for the soldiers arranged the baskets neatly beside the elephants in the yard in front of the hut. As they did, they wondered at the cleverness of the little girl.

  On the last day of the month, the twenty-eighth day, Munna received one hundred and twenty-eight baskets of rice. The Raja was astounded, for that was the entire contents of his granary! He looked around. There was not a single grain of rice left for him.

  But Munna was smart. She knew how difficult it would for the people to live under an unhappy ruler.

  “I do not need all this rice, Your Majesty,” said Munna. “I cannot eat it all, and I have no place to keep it. May I request that you, as a good and kind king, use it to feed the hungry people of your kingdom?”

  The Raja promised to do so. As the people of the kingdom received enough rice to fill their bellies, they bowed to the Raja. But in their hearts, they thanked their own little Munna— the girl with a clever head and a truly generous heart.

  The Birth of Krishna

  Long, long ago, it is said, gods and goddesses, demons and humans all lived together on this earth. Though they had their own worlds, the gods—or devas, and the demons—or asuras, would sometimes take the form of human beings. They would be born to human mothers and fathers and seem like ordinary human children. But the asuras would reveal their true natures with their evil deeds. And the devas would reveal their true natures when the time came for them to solve great problems, or to right grievous wrongs.

  In such a time, there lived a cruel prince called Kamsa, who some people say was an asura. Kamsa had no sisters and brothers, but he had a cousin called Devaki, a beautiful girl whom he loved as dearly as a sister.

  Now, Kamsa was a strange man. As long as he was in the company of good men, he would behave like a good man. But at other times, he would forget himself and his evil nature would take possession of him. Unfortunately, many of his ministers were asuras, demons in the shape of men, and they constantly goaded him to behave in evil ways.

  The day came when his cousin, Devaki, grew into a young maiden ready to be married.

  A gentle and kind nobleman called Vasudeva seemed the perfect match.

  Their wedding was celebrated with great joy. The festivities were grand, and when the time came for the bride to be taken to her new home, it is said that a hundred golden chariots, four hundred elephants and an enormous army stood by to escort the newlyweds.

  As he watched the couple get ready to depart, Kamsa felt sad to see Devaki leave. He went to their chariot and asked the charioteer to get down. He had decided, as a gesture of his affection for Devaki, to drive the chariot himself. He picked up the reins and they set off.

  They were riding along when suddenly there was a burst of thunder. Then a great voice boomed from the heavens: “Kamsa, your death has been decided. The eighth child born to Devaki will be the one who will slay you!”

  Kamsa was seized with great fear. In an instant, he had drawn out his sword and grabbed the frightened Devaki by her hair. “Ha!” he roared. “Only if she lives to see that day! I shall slay her before that!” He held the sword at Devaki’s neck.

  Vasudeva, horrified, grabbed Kamsa’s hand and pleaded, “Kamsa, don’t! You love Devaki as a younger sister. She has done you no harm. You should be the one to protect her!”

  But Kamsa pulled away. Seeing that his pleas fell on deaf ears, Vasudeva made one last desperate attempt to save his bride.

  “Kamsa, I promise you, you will have nothing to fear from Devaki,” he said. “I hereby swear that I will hand over every one of our children to you as soon as they are born.”

  Knowing that this was the promise of a nobleman, Kamsa considered it for a while. Then, realizing that the crime he was about to commit in front of so many people would show him to be a demon, he agreed to let Devaki go.

  Soon enough, a c
hild was born to Vasudeva and Devaki. As promised, Vasudeva took the child to Kamsa. At first Kamsa thought he had nothing to fear. After all, he had been warned only of the eighth child. However, confused by all the different advice he was given by his asura ministers, he soon killed the child.

  Having done that, it seemed as if evil finally took control of him. Kamsa even imprisoned his father, King Ugrasena, and took over his kingdom. He caught Vasudeva and Devaki as well. They, too, were thrown into prison. Then began a time of great sorrow and horror in the kingdom. Over the terrible years, Devaki bore six children, and each of them was killed. By then, even the gods could not bear to stand by and watch. When the seventh child began to grow in her belly, they decided to act. The gods moved Devaki’s child into the womb of Vasudeva’s other wife Rohini, who lived in the village of Gokul. Kamsa was told that Devaki’s seventh child was stillborn, or dead at birth. More time passed, and it was finally time for Devaki’s eighth child to be born. Kamsa grew impatient and restless. He ordered that Vasudeva and Devaki be bound and chained to the walls of their cell. Everyone waited.

  Many different things are said about the night this special baby was born. Some say that it was a beautiful night like none other—peaceful and calm with clear skies and stars glowing bright. It is said that lotuses were in full bloom in the lakes and the fragrant flowers in the gardens waved gently in the breeze. Birds began to sing, they say, and peacocks began to dance in the forests. Some say the gods even showered flowers from the sky to express their joy.