The Chinese Cinderella

During the time of the Ch’in and Han dynasties, a cave chief named Wu married two wives and each gave birth to baby girls. Before long Chief Wu and one wife died leaving one baby, Yeh-Shen, to be reared by her stepmother. The stepmother didn’t like Yeh-Shen for she was more beautiful and kinder than her own daughter so she treated her poorly.

Yeh-Shen was given the worst jobs and the only friend she had was a beautiful fish with big golden eyes . Each day the fish came out of the water onto the bank to be fed by Yeh-Shen. Now Yen-Shen had little food for herself but she was willing to share with the fish. Her stepmother hearing about the fish disguised herself as Yen-Shen and enticed the fish from the water. She stabbed it with a dagger, and cooked the fish for dinner.

Yeh-Shen was distraught when she learned of the fish’s death. As she sat crying she heard a voice and looked up to see a wise old man wearing the coarsest of clothes and with hair hanging down over his shoulders. He told her that the bones of the fish were filled with a powerful spirit, and that when she was in serious need she was to kneel before the bones and tell them of her heart’s desires. She was warned not to waste their gifts.

Yeh-Shen retrieved the bones from the trash heap and hid them in a safe place. Time passed and the spring festival was nearing. This was a time when the young people gathered in the village to meet one another and to find husbands and wives. Yen-Shen longed to go to the festival but her stepmother wouldn’t allow it because she feared that someone would pick Yeh-Shen rather than her own daughter. The stepmother and the daughter left for the festival leaving Yeh-Shen behind. Yeh-Shen wanting desperately to go asked the bones for clothes to wear to the festival. Suddenly she was wearing a beautiful gown of azure blue with a cloak of kingfisher feathers draped around her shoulders. On her feet were beautiful slippers. 

They were woven of golden threads in a pattern of a scaled fish and the soles were made of solid gold. When she walked she felt lighter than air. She was warned not to lose the slippers. Yeh-Shen arrived at the festival and soon all were looking her way. The daughter and step-mother moved closer to her for they seemed to recognize this beautiful person. Seeing that she would be found out, Yeh-Shen dashed out of the village leaving behind one of the golden slippers.

When she arrived home she was dressed again in her rags. She spoke again to the bones, but they were now silent. Saddened she put the one golden slipper in her bedstraw. After a time a merchant found the lost slipper, and seeing the value in the golden slipper sold it to a merchant who gave it to the king of the island kingdom of T’o Han.

Now the king wanted to find the owner of this tiny beautiful slipper. He sent his people to search the kingdom but no ones foot would fit in the tiny golden slipper. He had the slipper placed on display in a pavilion on the side of the road where the slipper had been found with an announcement that the shoe was to be returned to the owner.

The king’s men waited out of site. All the women came to try on the shoe. One dark night Yeh-Shen slipped quietly across the pavilion, took the tiny golden slipper and turned to leave, but the king’s men rushed out and arrested her. She was taken to the king who was furious for he couldn’t believe that any one in rags could possibly own a golden slipper. As he looked closer at her face he was struck by her beauty and he noticed she had the tiniest feet.

The king and his men returned home with her where she produced the other slipper. As she slipped on the two slippers her rags turned into the beautiful gown and cloak she had worn to the festival. The king realized that she was the one for him. They married and lived happily ever after. However, the stepmother and daughter were never allowed to visit Yeh-Shen and were forced to continue to live in their cave until the day they were crushed to death in a shower of flying stones.

Source: http://www.myseveralworlds.com/2007/08/02/yeh-shen-the-chinese-cinderella/

The Forbidden Fruit

“Let me tell the story, grandma.” said grandfather, passionately. “Where was I? Ah, yes – your grandmother on your mum’s side was very, very busy; your other grandfather only had one leg, so he couldn’t look after you very well. Your young cousins had to help out by looking after you. They were children themselves, you see. They were no bigger than you are now. That made it difficult for them to know what was best for you.

One day, they could not stop you crying, because you were very hungry. They gave you what they liked most – cherries – and you swallowed most of them whole. But you were too small. You were only a baby, and the cherries weren’t ripe, or washed. So, you became ill, very quickly.

The problem was that we didn’t know.

You were so poorly that your other grandmother was unsure of what to do and she was too afraid to tell us. The doctor in that village didn’t have the right medicines to give you.”

“So what happened, grandfather?” I asked.

“Well, at night, an Angel came to me and whispered in my ear that you were in great danger. That you were extremely unwell and that I had to bring you back.” Grandfather paused for a few, long seconds, to assess my reaction.

“The next day, I rang your other grandmother. I asked about you being sick but – stubbornly – she didn’t tell me anything. I could not sleep that night, so the next day, I called again and – this time – she said:
‘I don’t have money to bring her to you, so you’d better get on the train and take her away. She’s been very ill, passing blood in her nappies every day.’
So, that afternoon, I got on the train to Ocna Mures. We were so worried.”

“When I arrived, and took you in my arms, you were so weak. You just let out a big sigh and put your head on my shoulder. You also had a bruised, scarred nose and upper lip. It seemed that your pram had fallen down a flight of stairs, with you inside it.”

I realised that my grandfather’s eyes were full of tears, as he told me the story. I wished he hadn’t told me anything. I didn’t want to see him cry. Trying to comprehend, I watched him. Grandma was also wiping her eyes. 

“When grandfather brought you home, I called our doctor”, she said. “He came late at night. He checked you, took a blood sample and then gave us a box of powders from his medicine chest. He explained to us:
‘If you manage to give her this whole box of powders with water by morning, she’ll most likely live. She seems to have dysentery, I will confirm tomorrow.’
We did as he told us. We sang to you, through the night, and fed you those powders, with lots of boiled water. You were so well behaved. You didn’t cry at all. You were so sleepy that we had to keep waking you up. In the morning, when the medicine was all gone, we let you sleep uninterrupted for a while. Slowly but surely, you got better. You stopped bleeding. The next day, the doctor came again to see you and he was very relieved that you lived. It took us a while to get you back to full strength.”

“Yes, and soon after that, for the first time, you began to speak.”

“So many words, and pronounced correctly.”

The story, often re-told through my childhood and youth, was a story of strength, and of love. It still keeps its dark implications, as well as its stunningly heart-warming ones. 

Grandfather picked me up, and smiling, gave me a big hug.

“So, my Sweetest, you should be careful about eating too many cherries.” he said, looking at me intently.

“No more cherries today for you, young lady!!” he concluded, while my expressions of delight at being held up in the air filled the room with noise.

He always had a way of sweetening the bitterest medicine.

To this day, cherries are my favourite fruit. The forbidden ones, that always make me ill, yet I can never stop myself from having them.


Source: http://chroniclesoflightanddarkness.blogspot.com/2011/06/story-of-forbidden-fruit.html

The Man Who Became A Fish

Some years ago a noted official became the magistrate of Ko-song County. On a certain day a guest called on him to pay his respects, and when noon came the magistrate had a table of food prepared for him, on which was a dish of skate soup. When the guest saw the soup he twisted his features and refused it, saying, "To-day I am fasting from meat, and so beg to be excused." His face grew very pale, and tears flowed from his eyes. The magistrate thought this behaviour strange, and asked him two or three times the meaning of it. When he could no longer withhold a reply, he went into all the particulars and told him the story.

"Your humble servant," he said, "has in his life met with much unheard-of and unhappy experience, which he has never told to a living soul, but now that your Excellency asks it of me, I cannot refrain from telling. Your servant's father was a very old man, nearly a hundred, when one day he was taken down with a high fever, in which his body was like a fiery furnace. Seeing the danger he was in, his children gathered about weeping, thinking that the time of his departure had surely come. But he lived, and a few days later said to us, 'I am burdened with so great a heat in this sickness that I am not able to endure it longer. I would like to go out to the bank of the river that runs before the house and see the water flowing by, and be refreshed by it. Do not disobey me now, but carry me out at once to the water's edge.'

"We remonstrated with him and begged him not to do so, but he grew very angry, and said, ' If you do not as I command, you will be the death of me'; and so, seeing that there was no help for it, we bore him out and placed him on the bank of the river. He, seeing the water, was greatly delighted, and said, 'The clear flowing water cures my sickness.' A moment later he said further, 'I'd like to be quite alone and rid of you all for a little. Go away into the wood and wait till I tell vou to come.'

"We again remonstrated about this, but he grew furiously angry, so that we were helpless. We feared that if we insisted, his sickness would grow worse, and so we were compelled to yield. We went a short distance away and then turned to look, when suddenly the old father was gone from the place where he had been seated. We hurried back to see what had happened. My father had taken off his clothes and plunged into the water, which was muddied. His body was already half metamorphosed into a skate. We saw its transformation in terror, and did not dare to go near him, when all at once it became changed into a great flatfish, that swam and plunged and disported itself in the water with intense delight. He looked back at us as though he could hardly bear to go, but a moment later he was off, entered the deep sea, and did not again appear.

"On the edge of the stream where he had changed his form we found his finger-nails and a tooth. These we buried, and to-day as a family we all abstain from skate fish, and when we see the neighbours frying or eating it we are overcome with disgust and horror."

Im Bang.

Source: http://chestofbooks.com/fairy-tale/Korean/XIV-The-Old-Man-Who-Became-A-Fish.html

The Happy Mirror

Many years ago in Japan, there lived a father, mother and their dear little girl. There was not a happier family in all the islands of Japan. They took their little daughter to the temple when she was just 30 days old. She wore a long kimono, as all the Japanese babies do. On her first doll festival, her parents gave her a set of dolls. There was no finer set anywhere. Her dolls had long, black hair, silky and smooth, and were clad in gowns of satin and silk. Her third birthday was a happy day. Her first sash of scarlet and gold was tied around her small waist.

When that happened, she was no longer their baby daughter. She was their little girl, fast growing up. By the time she was seven, she was helping her parents in many ways. She could talk and dance and sing, and oh! Her parents loved her dearly. One day, a messenger brought exciting news. The emperor had sent for the father. He had to go to Tokyo at once. Tokyo was a long way off and the roads were rough. The father would have to walk every step of the way for he had no horse. There were no railways or even jinrikishas to travel on. The little girl was glad her father was going to Tokyo. She knew that when he came back, he would tell her many interesting stories.

She knew that he would bring her presents, too. The mother was happy because the father had been sent for the emperor. This was a great honor. At last, all was ready. The father looked very fine as he started out on a long trip. He was going to meet his emperor, so he dresses in fine robes of silk and satin. The little family stood on the porch of the little house to bid him goodbye. “Do not worry. I will come back soon,” said the father. “While I’m away, take care of everything. Keep our little daughter safe.””Yes, we shall be alright. But you must take care of yourself. Come back to as soon as you can,” said mother.

The little girl ran to his side. She caught hold on his sleeve to keep a moment. “Father,” she said, “I will be very good while waiting for you to come back.” Then he was gone. He went quickly down to the little garden and out through the gate. There all they could see of him go down the road. He looked smaller as he went farther away. Then all they could see of him was his peaked hat. Soon, that was out of sight, too. The days seemed very long for the mother and the little girl. Many times each day, they would pray for the good father. They prayed for his safe journey. The days slipped by one and morning, the little girl saw someone coming over the mountains. She ran to tell her mother. Could that be father? They both went to the garden gate to watch.

As he came nearer, they knew that he was father. They both ran to meet him, the little girl on one side, and the mother on the other side. They were all happy again. As soon as they went into the house, the little girl ran to untie his father’s straw sandals. The mother lovingly took off his large straw hat. Then they all sat down on the white mat, for the father had brought some presents. There in a bamboo basket was a beautiful doll and a box full of cakes. “Here,” he said to the little girl, “is a present for you. It is a prize for taking care of Mother and the house while I was away.””Thank you, Father dear,” said the little girl. Then she bowed her head to the ground. In a second, she had picked up her lovely new doll and had gone to play with it. Again, the husband looked into the basket.

This time, he brought out a square wooden box. It was tied with gaily-colored ribbon. He handed it to his wife saying, “And this is for you, my dear.” The wife took the box and opened it carefully. One side had beautifully carved pine trees and storks on it. The other side was bright and shining as smooth as a pool of water. Inside, there was something made on silver. She had never seen so lovely a present. She looked and looked at the pine trees and stork, which seemed almost real. Then she looked closer at the shining side. Suddenly she cried, “I see someone looking at me in this round thing! She is very lovely.” Her husband laughed but said nothing.

Then the mother’s eyes grew big with wonder. “Why, the lady I see has a dress just like mine!” she said. “She seems to be talking to me.””My dear,” her husband answered, “that is your own face that you see. What I have given you is a mirror. All the ladies in Tokyo have them. If you bring a smiling face in the mirror, you will see a smiling face. If you are cross face, you will see a cross face in it.” The wife thanked her husband for the lovely gift. She promised always to bring a happy face to the mirror. She then shut it up in the box and put it away.

Often, the mother would take out the box and look inside. Each time, she was surprised. She liked to see her eyes shine. She liked to see how red her lips were. She always brought a smiling face to it, so that she might always see a smiling face. Soon, she grew tired of looking in the box and she put it away. Only once a year did she open it and look at her face. She decided to save the lovely gift for the little girl when she grew up. The years went by. The little girl grew to be a woman and no longer played with dolls. Instead each day, she helped her mother about the house. How proud her father was of her! He saw that she was growing more like her mother.

Her hair was the same; her eyes were the same; her mouth was the same. She was the very image of her mother. One day, the mother called her daughter and said, “My daughter, I have something to give you. Once each year, you are to look into it.” She took the square wooden box from the drawer. Carefully, the daughter untied the ribbon. Wondering, she lifted the cover and looked at the mirror. “Why, Mother!” she cried. “It’s you! You look just as you used to look when I was a little girl.”

”Yes, dear,” the mother answered, “that is the way I looked when I was young. Be sure to smile when you look at me and I will smile back to you.” From that day on, the good daughter kept the box near her. Once each year, she would open it. Her mother’s words were true. Always, she saw her mother’s face. Oh, the joyful surprise! It was her mother, more beautiful each time that she looked. She seemed to smile at her daughter and the daughter smiled back at her. The daughter remembered to bring smiles to the little box and smiles always came back to her.

Cool IMAGE!!!

The Spider's Thread

It so happens that one day the Lord Buddha is strolling alone on the shore of the lotus pond in Paradise. All the lotus blossoms blooming in the pond are globes of the whitest white and from the golden stamen in the center of each an indescribably pleasant fragrance issues forth abidingly over the adjacent area. Day is just dawning in Paradise. In due course, the Lord Buddha pauses at the edge of the pond and beholds an unexpected sight between the lotus petals veiling the water’s surface. Since the depths of Hell lay directly below the lotus pond on Paradise, the scenery of Sanzu-no-kawa and Hari-no-yama can be clearly seen through the crystal-clear water just as if looking through a stereopticon.

Then, the single figure of a man, Kandata by name, squirming there in the depths of Hell along with other sinners, comes into the Lord Buddha’s gaze. This man Kandata is a murderer, an arsonist, and a master thief with numerous robberies to his credit. Yet, the Lord Buddha recalls that he had performed a single good deed. That is to say, once when Kandata was traveling through the middle of a dense forest he came upon a spider crawling along the roadside. Thereupon, he immediately raised his foot and was about to trample it to death. But, he suddenly reconsidered, saying, “Nay, nay, small though this spider be, there is no doubt that it too is a living being. Somehow or other it seems a shame to take its life for no reason.” In the end he spared the spider rather than killing it.

While observing the situation in Hell, the Lord Buddha remembers that this Kandata had spared the spider. And he decides that in return for having done just that one good deed he would, if he could, try to rescue this man from Hell. Luckily, he sees nearby a spider of Paradise spinning a beautiful silver web on a jade colored lotus petal. The Lord Buddha takes the spider’s thread gently into his hand and lowers it between the pure white lotus blossoms straight into the distant depths of Hell.

This is Chi-no-ike in the depths of Hell and along with other sinners Kandata is floating up to the surface and sinking back down over and over. No matter what direction one looks it is completely dark. And when one notices out there in that darkness the glow from the needles of the dreaded Hari-no-yama floating up vaguely into view, the feeling of helplessness is beyond description. Moreover, the surroundings are perfectly still, like the inside of a tomb. If a sound is to be heard, it is merely the faint sigh of some sinner. The sighs are faint because anyone who has fallen to this level of Hell is already so exhausted by the tortures of the other Hells that he or she no longer has even enough strength to cry out. Therefore, as one might expect, the master thief Kandata himself is unable to do anything but writhe, exactly like a frog caught in the throes of death, as he chokes on the blood of Chi-no-ike.

One day, however, something happens. Kandata happens to raise his head and spies in the sky above Chi-no-ike a silvery spider’s thread, a thin line shimmering in the silent darkness, gently descending toward him from the distant, distant firmament as though it were afraid to be seen by the eyes of men. Upon seeing it Kandata involuntarily claps his hands for joy. If he were to cling to this thread and climb it to its end, he would surely be able to escape from Hell. No, if all went well, he would even be able to enter Paradise. And were this to come to pass, he would never ever be driven up Hari-no-yama again, nor would he ever have to sink again in Chi-no-ike.

Having thought thusly, Kandata quickly takes firm hold of that spider’s thread with both hands and using all his might begins climbing up and up hand-over-hand. From long ago Kandata has been completely used to doing this sort of thing since he is a former master thief. But because the distance between Hell and Paradise is some tens of thousands of ri, try though he might, he is not able to ascend to the top easily. After climbing for a while, even Kandata finally tires; he is unable to continue for even one more pull on the thread. Having no other choice, he intends first to take a short rest. While hanging onto the thread he looks down on the distance below.

He sees that thanks to the efforts he spent climbing, Chi-no-ike, where he had just recently been, is now already hidden at the bottom of the darkness. He also sees that the faint glow of the terrifying Hari-no-yama is below him. If he were to continue at this pace, the escape from Hell just might not be as difficult as he had expected. Wrapping his hand around the spider’s thread, Kandata laughs in a voice unused during his years in Hell, “I’m saved! I’m saved at last!” Then he suddenly notices that below him on the spider’s thread, just like a line of ants, a countless number of sinners are following him, climbing up and up for all they are worth. When Kandata sees this, he momentarily freezes from shock and fear, his mouth agape and his eyes rolling in his head like an idiot. How could it be that this slender spider’s thread, seemingly strained even under the weight of just him alone, is able to support the weight of that many? By some chance were the thread to break, he, the egotistical Kandata who at great pains had climbed this far, and everyone else would plummet headlong back into Hell. For that to happen would be a disaster. But, even as he says this, sinners, not by the hundreds, nor even by the thousands, but in swarms, continue to crawl up from the bottom of the pitch dark Chi-no-ike and climb up the thin luminous spider’s thread in single file. If he doesn’t do something right away, the thread will break in two at the center and he will surely fall.

At this point, Kandata yells in a loud voice, “Hey you sinners. This spider’s thread is mine. Who the hell asked you to climb it? Get down! Get off it!” Just as he screams at the other sinners the spider’s thread, which till then had had nothing wrong with it, suddenly breaks with a snap right where Kandata is hanging. So, Kandata, too, is doomed. Without even time to cry out he goes flying through the air spinning like a top and in the wink of an eye plunges headfirst into the dark depths of Hell. Afterwards, only the shortened spider’s thread from Paradise dangles there, glittering dimly in a sky void of both moon and stars.

The Lord Buddha stands on the shore of the lotus pond in Paradise having taken in everything from start to finish. When Kandata finally sinks like a rock to the bottom of Chi-no-ike he resumes strolling, his countenance seemingly creased with sadness. Seen through divine eyes, the Lord Buddha thought it wretched that Kandata’s compassionless heart led him to attempt to escape by himself and for such a heart falling back into Hell was just punishment. The lotus blossoms in the lotus pond of Paradise, however, are not concerned in the least about what has happened. Those blossoms of the whitest white wave their cups around the divine feet of the Lord Buddha and from the golden stamen in the center of each an indescribably pleasant fragrance issues forth abidingly over the adjacent area. Noon draws near in Paradise.

Source: http://kanhom.com/2009/02/06/the-spiders-thread/ -ki3r_15

The Gold Harvest

Long ago in Old Ayudhya, there lived a man named Nai Hah Tong who dreamed of turning copper into gold. His wife, Nang Song Sai, had little faith in magic. She believed in the wealth of nature and richness of the earth. When her husband boasted, Some day, we will be the richest people in Ayudhya, she listened patiently; however, when all their tical had been used for experiments, she decided something would have to be done about her husband’s great expectation. She said to her husband, Nai Hah Tong, you have experimented with copper and a monkey’s paw, copper and lizard’s tail. You have polished copper with the gold stripe of fur cut from the tiger’s skin, but the copper did not turn into gold. Why don’t you give up this dream and go to work like other men? her husband said, Mai chai, that is not right. With each experiment my magic has grown stronger. Mai pen rai, never mind, my husband, you must do what you must do, she answered. The next day, however, she went home to see her father and asked him what to do about Nai Hah Tong’s unreasonable search for gold. Her wise old father did not seem disturbed.

He said, Pai, go now, and say nothing of this meeting. I have a plan to help your husband. The next day Nai Hah Tong received an invitation to dine with his father-in-law. At ginukow, or meal time, Nai Hah Tong was there on the mat-covered floor beside the elderly gentleman. The old man said, my son, since you desired power and a long life, you sit facing east. I see honor and dignity, so I shall sit facing west. Chai, yes, my father, I always follow the old relief. I never sit facing north when I eat, for I fear the bad luck such an action would cause, but sometimes, I eat facing south because I would like to have esteem and respect. The old man smiled and nodded in agreement.

A servant interrupted and conversation by placing a large tray bearing bowls of white rice, hot chicken curry, roasted turtle eggs, vegetables and namprick , a spicy sauce made from beetles and fish paste. Another tray held bowls of fresh water for washing, cloths for drying, and lime scent for perfuming the hands. The men ate from the same bowls, using only the fingers of their right hand. They did not speak very much while eating because the delicious food demanded their complete attention.      T he curry was spicy, yet sweet with the added milk of the coconut. The rice was fluffy and fresh from the top of the pot. The namprick bit the tongue, but it was good and made the mild milk drink tastier by contrast. When the meal was over, Nai Hah Tong felt as content as a baby gibbon sitting upon his mother’s lap.

Ah, we are lucky for fish in the water and rice on the land, he said. Chai, my son, but there is more to life than good food. I have asked you to come to see me this evening because I need your help. Like you, my son, I have been looking for a way of turning copper into gold. Now, I know how to do it. Nai Hah Tong drew in his breath and made a long, long whistling sound. Oh, it’s too good to be true! I can’t believe it! he said. Listen carefully, Nai Hah Tong.

I have all things I need for the miracle except one additional ingredient. Because I am an old man, I don’t think I can work hard enough and long enough to get it. Mai pen rai, never mind, father, I will get whatever you nee, Nai Hah Tong replied. That is not an easy as you might think, my son. I must have two kilos of soft fuzz gathered from the underside of the banana leaf, and the fuzz must be plucked carefully from our very own banana trees. Furthermore, I know the fuzz will not perform the miracle, unless it comes from a tree planted when the magical words were spoken. I can say the magic words, and I can raise the banana trees.

 I will collect the two kilos of banana fuzz for you, said Nai Hah Tong. The old man smiled and said, I know you can do this, my son, because I have faith in you. I will loan you the money to buy the land you will need to raise banana trees. The young man bowed low to the older. In the hearts of each of them, there was a feeling of faith and trust. Nai Hah Tong was determined to prepare his fields in a way which would be most pleasing to all the gods who might influence his crops. For this reason he went to his village wat and asked guidance from the priest who knew how to look at the gleaming stars and interpret the wisdom of the night sky.

The priest’s saffron robe glowed in the moonlight. His bare feet made no sound as he walked from the wat to the open court. The glittering stars seemed to light the sky as the fireflies lit the darkness. The priest gazed at the stars as if they were the eyes of heaven. Nai Hah Tong waited patiently for the priest. The only sound he heard was the lonely call of the gecko lizard hiding in a crack of the stucco wall of the wat. He counted the lizard’s croaks nung, song, sam, see, ha, hok, jet. Ah, it is a rare sign of good fortune. The gecko calls seven times, bringing me good luck. The priest returned to his small, bare cell and opened a worn folding book.

He said, since you were born in the year of the Ox, you must begin your plowing on Wednesday, the tenth day of the fourth lunar month. Now, do not forget to begin when the sun is midway between the horizon and the highpoint of noon. Chai, chai, yes, yes. I shall do as you say. The priest continued. Before this auspicious hour, you must build a shrine to the guardian spirit of the field, Phra Phum. Give him an offering of the best rice. Lay it flat on a shining green banana leaf and serve him graciously. At the north corner of your field, you must place three triangular white flags. As you mount them on bamboo poles, ask the blessing of the goddess who makes the banana tree fertile with the yellow fruit. Do not forget to praise the earth goddess and do remember to ask Phra Phum’s blessing. Ask these gods to keep hungry locusts and nibbling worms far away from fields.

Is there anything else that I must do? Asked Nai Hah Tong. Chai, you will ask your village chieftain to guide your plow three times around the field. When this is done, again honor Phra Phum with the scent of incense and the beauty of flowers plucked by your own hands.  All shall be done exactly as you desire, said Nai Hah Tong. He followed the priest’s suggestions and added one more touch of magic. With the planting of each banana tree, he uttered the special secret words given to him by his father-in-law. The gecko had predicted good luck, so Nai Hah Tong was not surprised when his banana trees grew tall, sturdy, and heavy with blossoms.

Not very long after he had thousands of firm yellow bananas and myriads of shiny leaves with a soft layer of fluffy fuzz on the underside. Each morning Nai Hah Tong gave Phra Phum an offering of rice from the top of the pot. Then he carefully collected the soft fuzz from the underside of the banana leaves and stored it in a pottery jar. Each morning his wife, Nang song Sai, gave Phra Phum flowers and incense. Then she collected the beautiful yellow bananas, took them to market, sold them and place her tical in a pottery jar. After three lunar years had passed, Nai Hah tong had a half kilo of banana fuzz. His wife had three pottery jars full of tical. Strangely, Nai Hah Tong was so intent upon collecting and storing the fuzz that he paid no attention to his wife’s profitable labor. One day Nang song Sai’s father came to ask if he would have to wait much longer for the two kilos of banana fuzz.

When he saw the pottery jar partially full, he appeared worried. I am an old man. If you don’t get more land, more banana trees, and more banana fuzz, I shall not live to see copper turned into gold. Mai pen rai, never mind, father. I will borrow more money to buy more land. Then there shall be more banana trees and I can collect even more banana fuzz, said Nai Hah Tong. Now Nai Hah Tong and his faithful wife worked for many years. The moons rose, waxed, and waned; days ran after days until finally the time arrived when each had accomplished a goal. Nang Song Sai had collected many jars full of tical. Nai Hah Tong had two jars full of banana fuzz. As you can imagine, it was an especially happy day. Nai Hah Tong shouted to his wife, Run and bring your father here. Today he can test his magic. If all goes well, we shall see red copper grow until it is as gold as the sun of Siam.

When the old man arrived, Nai Hah Tong bowed very low before him and presented him with the treasured banana fuzz. The old man said: Arise, my son; today you will be a rich man. Nai Hah Tong trembled nervously. Litter Rivers of perspiration ran down his face. His fingers shook like banana leaves in the wind. The old man, on the other hand, was not in a hurry. He turned to his daughter and calmly asked, have you made any money from the sale of the bananas?  Oh, yes, chai, chai, my father, she said. Nai Hah Tong thought his father-in-law must be out of his mind. When the copper was waiting to be turned into gold, why worry about the sale of a few bananas? Nang Song Sai brought a tray piled high with golden tical and placed it before her husband.

Aha! said her father. Now, Nai Hah Tong, just look at all this money that has been made by following my directions. My son, I cannot turn copper into gold, but you and my daughter have harvested gold from the sale of your bananas. You cared for the young plants until they became trees producing delicious fruit. Is not that just as great a miracle as turning copper into gold? Nai Ha Tong did not answer because he felt like a fool, but he was a very rich fool. His clever wife knelt before him to show her love and respect. When she arouse she said, my husband, you are a master magician. With the help of the gods you cleared land. You cared for the banana trees with the same loving care we give our son. You made the gods happy, and they rewarded you with the golden fruit of the banana trees. Mai chai that is not right, my clever wife. Do not put a story under your arm and walk away with it. It is your father who is the master magician. He has made his honorable daughter and worthless son-in-law the richest people in Ayudhya. Nai Hah Tong looked at the meaningless pile of banana fuzz mounted high on the table under the smiling face of his father-in-law.

Right there and then it is said, Nai Hah Tong mixed the banana fuzz with a little water and carefully molded a statue of the old man. What are you doing? asked his wife. I am making a statue of your father. I hope our sons and our son’s sons will treasure it as an heirloom. Each time they look upon it, they will be reminded of my foolishness and your father’s wisdom.

The Cricket Boy

A long time ago, cricket fighting caught on in the imperial court, with the emperor leading the fad. A local magistrate in Haying, who wanted to win the favor of the monarch, he tried in every way to get the best fighting crickets. He had a strategy for doing so: He managed to get a cricket that was very good at fighting. He then made his subordinates go to the heads of each village and force them to send in a constant supply of fighting crickets. He would send to the imperial court the crickets that could beat the one he was keeping. Theoretically, everything should have worked smoothly. However, the magistrate was extremely zealous to please the emperor; he meted out harsh punishment on any village heads who failed to accomplish their tasks. The village heads in turn shifted the burden to the poor villagers, who had to search for the crickets. If they failed to catch them, they had to purchase them from someone else, or they had to pay a levy in cash. 

The small insects suddenly became a rare commodity. Speculators hoarded good crickets, buying them at a bargain and selling them for an exorbitant price. Many village heads worked hand in hand with the speculators to make profits. In so doing, they bankrupted many a family. Cheng Ming was one such villager. The head of his village delegated part of his duties to him because he found Cheng Ming easy to push around. Cheng Ming did not want to bully his fellow villagers as the village head did him, so he often had to pay cash out of his own pocket when he failed to collect any competent crickets. Soon the little proper ties he had were draining away, and he went into a severe depression. One day, he said to his wife that he wanted to die.

“Death is easy, but what will our son do without you?” asked his wife, glancing at their only son, sleeping on the king. “Why can’t we look for the crickets ourselves instead of buying them? Perhaps we’ll strike some good luck.”Cheng Ming gave up the idea of suicide and went to search for crickets. Armed with a tiny basket of copper wires for catching crickets and number of small bamboo tubes for holding them, he went about the tedious task. Each day he got up at dawn and did not return until late in the evening. He searched beneath brick debris, dike crevices, and in the weeds and bushes. Days went by, and he caught only a few mediocre crickets that did not measure up to the magistrate’s standards. His worries increased as the dead line drew closer and closer. The day for cricket delivery finally came, but Cheng Ming could not produce any good ones. He was clubbed a hundred times on the buttocks, form of corporal punishment in the ancient Chinese judicial system. When hews released the next day, he could barely walk. The wound on his buttocks confined him to bed for days and further delayed his search for crickets. He thought of committing suicide again. His wife did not know what to do.

Then they heard about a hunchbacked fortune teller who was visiting the village. Cheng Ming’s wife went to see him. The fortune teller gave her apiece of paper with a picture on it. It was a pavilion with a jiashan (rock garden) behind it. On the bushes by the jiashan sat a fat male cricket. Beside it, however, lurked a large toad, ready to catch the insect with its long, elastic tongue. When the wife got home, she showed the paper to her husband. Cheng Ming sprang up and jumped to the floor, forgetting the paining his buttocks. “This is the fortune teller’s hint at the location where I can find perfect cricket to accomplish my task!” he exclaimed. “But we don’t have a pavilion in our village,” his wife re minded him.

“Well, take a closer look and think. Doesn’t the temple on the east side of our village have a rock garden? That must be it.” So saying, Cheng Ming limped to the temple with the support of a make shift crutch. Sure enough, he saw the cricket, and the toad squatting nearby in the rock garden at the back of the temple. He caught the big, black male cricket just before the toad got hold of it. Back home, he carefully placed the cricket in a jar he had prepared for it and stowed the jar away in a safe place. “Everything will beaver tomorrow,” he gave a sigh of relief and went to tell his best friends in the village the good news. Cheng Ming’s nine-year-old son was very curious. Seeing his father was gone, he took the jar and wanted to have a peek at the cricket. He was removing the lid carefully, when the big cricket jumped out and hopped away. Panicked, the boy tried to catch the fleeing cricket with his hands, burin a flurry; he accidentally squashed the insect when he finally got hold of it. “Good heavens! What’re you going to say to your father when he comes back?” the mother said in distress and dread. Without a word, the boy went out of the room; tears in his eyes. Cheng Ming became distraught when he saw the dead cricket. He couldn’t believe that all his hopes had been dashed in a second. He looked around for his son, vowing to teach the little scoundrel a good lesson.

He searched inside and outside the house, only to locate him in a well at the corner of the court yard. When he fished him out, the boy was already dead. The father’s fury instantly gave way to sorrow. The grieved parents laid their son on the king and lamented over his body the entire night. As Cheng Ming was dressing his son for burial the next morning, he felt the body still warm. Immediately he put the boy back on the king, hoping that he would revive. Gradually the boy came back to life, but to his parents’ dismay, he was unconscious, as if he were in a trance. The parents grieved again for the loss of their son. Suddenly they heard a cricket chirping. The couple traced the sound to a small cricket on the door step. The appearance of the cricket, however, dashed their hopes, for it was very small. “Well, it’s better than nothing,” Cheng Ming thought. He was about to catch it, when it jumped nimbly on to a wall, cheeping at him. He tip toed to ward it, but it showed no sign of fleeing. Instead, wrenching Ming came a few steps closer, the little cricket jumped onto his chest.

Though small, the cricket looked smart and energetic. Cheng Ming planned to take it to the village head. Uncertain of its capabilities, Changing could not go to sleep. He wanted to put the little cricket to the test before sending it to the village head. The next morning, Cheng Ming went to a young man from a rich family in his neighborhood, having heard him boasting about an “invincible” cricket that he wanted to sell for a high price. When the young man showed his cricket, Cheng Ming hesitated, because his little cricket seemed no match for this gigantic insect. To fight this monster would be to condemn his dwarf to death. “There’s no way my little cricket could survive a confrontation with your big guy,” Cheng Ming said to the young man, holding his jar tight. The young man goaded and taunted him.

At last, Cheng Ming decided to take arises. “Well, it won’t hurt to give a try. If the little cricket is a good-for-nothing, what’s the use of keeping it anyway?” he thought. When they put the two crickets together in a jar, Cheng Ming’s small insect seemed transfixed. No matter how the young man prodded it to fight, it simply would not budge. The young man burst into a guffaw, to the great embarrassment of Cheng Ming. As the young man spurred the little cricket on, it sod deny seemed to have run out of patience. With great wrath, it charged the giant opponent head on. The sudden burst of action stunned both the young man and Cheng Ming. Before the little creature planted its small but sharp teeth into the neck of the big cricket, the terrified young man fished the big insect out of the jar just in time and called off the contest. The little cricket chirped victoriously, and Cheng Ming felt exceedingly happy and proud. Cheng Ming and the young man were commenting on the little cricket’s extraordinary prowess, when a big rooster rushed over to peck at the little cricket in the jar. The little cricket hopped out of the jar in time to dodge the attack. The rooster then went for it a second time, but suddenly began to shake its head violently, screaming in agony. This sudden turn of events baffled Cheng Ming and the onlookers. When they took a closer look, they could not believe their eyes: The little cricket was gnawing on the rooster’s bloody comb.

The story of a cricket fighting a rooster soon spread throughout the village and beyond. The next day, Cheng Ming, along with the village head, sent the cricket to the magistrate and asked for a test fight with his master cricket, but the magistrate re fused on the ground that Cheng Ming’s cricket was too small.“I don’t think you have heard its rooster-fighting story,” Cheng Ming proclaimed with great pride. “You can’t judge it only by its appearance.”“Nonsense, how can a cricket fight a rooster?” asked the magistrate. He ordered a big rooster brought to his office, thinking that Cheng Ming would quit telling his tall tales when his cricket became the bird’s snack. The battle between the little cricket and the rooster ended with the same result: The rooster sped away in great pain, the little cricket chirping triumphantly on its heels. The magistrate was first astonished and then pleased, thinking that he finally had the very insect that could win him the emperor’s favor. He had golden cage manufactured for the little cricket. Placing it cautiously in thecae, he took it to the emperor. The emperor pitted the little cricket against all his veteran combat ant crickets, and it defeated them one by one. What amused the emperor most was that the little creature could even dance to the tune of his court music! Extremely pleased with the magic little creature, the emperor rewarded the magistrate liberally and promoted him to a higher position. The magistrate, now a governor, in turn exempted Cheng Ming from his levies in cash as wells crickets. A year later, Cheng Ming’s son came out of his stupor. He sat up a drubbed his eyes, to the great surprise and joy of his parents. The first word she uttered to his jubilant parents was, “I’m so tired and hungry.” After a hot meal, he told them, “I dreamed that I had become a cricket, and I fought allot of other crickets. It was such fun! You know what? The greatest fun I had was my fight with a couple of roosters!”

The Story Of The Aged Mother

Long, long ago there lived at the foot of the mountain a poor farmer and his aged, widowed mother. They owned a bit of land which supplied them with food, and their humble were peaceful and happy. Shinano was governed by a despotic leader who though a warrior, had a great and cowardly shrinking from anything suggestive of failing health and strength. This caused him to send out a cruel proclamation. The entire province was given strict orders to immediately put to death all aged people. Those were barbarous days, and the custom of abandoning old people to die was not common. The poor farmer loved his aged mother with tender reverence, and the order filled his heart with sorrow. But no one ever thought a second time about obeying the mandate of the governor, so with many deep hopeless sighs, the youth prepared for what at that time was considered the kindest mode of death. 

                Just at sundown, when his day’s work was ended, he took a quantity of unwhitened rice which is principal food for poor, cooked and dried it, and tying it in a square cloth, swung and bundle around his neck along with a gourd filled with cool, sweet water. Then he lifted his helpless old mother to his back and stated on his painful journey up the mountain. The road was long and steep; the narrowed road was crossed and recrossed by many paths made by the hunters and woodcutters. In some place, they mingled in a confused puzzled, but he gave no heed. One path or another, it mattered not. On he went, climbing blindly upward – ever upward towards the high bare summit of what is know as Obatsuyama, the mountain of the “abandoning of aged”. 

                The eyes of the old mother were not so dim but that they noted the reckless hastening from one path to another, and her loving heart grew anxious. Her son did not know the mountain’s many paths and his return might be one of danger, so she stretched forth her hand and snapping the twigs from brushes as they passed, she quietly dropped a handful every few steps of the way so that they climbed, the narrow path behind them was dotted at frequently intervals with tiny piles of twigs. At last the summit was reached. Weary and heart sick, the youth gently released his burden and silently prepared a place of comfort as his last duty to the loved one. Gathering fallen pine needle, he made a soft cushion and tenderly lifting his old mother therein, he wrapped her padded coat more closely about the stooping shoulders and with tearful eyes and an aching heart said farewell. 

                The trembling mother’s voice was full of unselfish love as she gave her last injunction. “Let not thine eyes be blinded, my son.” She said. “The mountain road is full of dangers. LOOK carefully and follow the path which holds the piles of twigs. They will guide you to the familiar way farther down”. The son’s surprised eyes looked back over the path, then at the poor old, shrivelled hands all scratched and soiled by their work of love. His heart smote him and bowing to the grounds, he cried aloud: “oh, Honorable mother, thy kindness thrusts my heart! I will not leave thee. Together we will follow the path of twigs, and together we will die!” 

                Once more he shouldered his burden (how light it seemed no) and hastened down the path, through the shadows and the moonlight, to the little hut in the valley. Beneath the kitchen floor was a walled closet for food, which was covered and hidden from view. There the son his mother, supplying her with everything needful and continually watching and fearing. Time passed, and he was beginning to feel safe when again the governor sent forth heralds bearing an unreasonable order, seemingly as a boast of his power. His demand was that his subject should present him with a rope of ashes. The entire province trembled with dread. The order must be obeyed yet who in all Shinano could make a rope of ashes? One night, in great distress, the son whispered the news to his hidden mother. “Wait!” she said. “I will think. I will think” On the second day she told him what to do. “Make rope twisted straw” she said. “Then stretch it upon a row of flat stones and burn it there on the windless night.” He called the people together and did as she said and when the blaze and died, behold upon the stones with every twist and fiber showing perfectly. Lay a rope of whit head ashes. The governor was pleased at the wit of the youth and praised greatly, but he demanded to know where he had obtained his wisdom. “Alas! Alas!” cried the farmer, “the truth must be told!” and with deep bows he related his story. The governor listened and then meditated in silence. Finally he lifted his head. “Shinano needs more than strength of youth,” he said gravely. “Ah, that I should have forgotten the well-know saying, “with the crown of snow, there cometh a wisdom!” That very hour the cruel law was abolished, and custom drifted into as far a past that only legends remain.

The Story Of Ruth

In the time of the judges, the neighboring pagan peoples were constant enemies of the Israelites. There were occasions though when several pagans from these people accepted faith in the true God, and then the Israelites considered them as their fellow-tribesmen. Such a person was the Moabite Ruth. This is her story.

In Bethlehem, Judah, lived a man, whose name was Elimelech, with his wife Naomi. They had two sons, Mahlon and Chilian. During the famine Elimelech was obliged to move with his family to the land of Moab. There Elimelech soon died. His sons married the Moabites Orpah and Ruth, and after living with them not more than ten years, they both died. The widow Naomi remained with her daughters-in-law. When Naomi heard that the Lord had sent a rich harvest to the Israelite land, she decided to return to her homeland. She and both her daughters-in-law went.

On the way Naomi began to urge them to return home, saying to them, "Go, return each of you to your mother’s house. May the Lord grant you mercy for the way you dealt with the dead and with me," and she kissed them. The daughters-in-law sobbed and cried and did not want to leave her, but one of them, Orpah, with tears, obeyed Naomi and returned home. But Ruth said, "Whither thou goest, I will go, and where thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy people shall be my people and thy God my God. Where thou diest, will I die and there will I be buried."

Naomi and Ruth, coming to the land of the Israelites, settled in the town of Bethlehem and lived on the wheat which Ruth picked up from the harvested fields. This was enough for sustenance, since it is written in the Law of God, "And when ye reap the harvest of your land, thou shalt not wholly reap the corners of thy field, neither shalt thou gather the gleanings of thy harvest; thou shalt leave them for the poor and the stranger" (Lev. 19:9-10).

The Lord God rewarded Ruth for her attachment and respectfulness towards her mother-in-law. The Israelites had a law: if one of them died, not leaving children, then the nearest relative had to marry the widow of the person who died, and the children from this marriage were considered the dead man’s children. This law was called the Levinite Law.

At this time in Bethlehem there lived a rich man, Boaz, a relative of Ruth’s dead husband. According to Levinite Law, Boaz married the poor Moabite Ruth. When a son was born to them, Obed, women said to Naomi, "Blessed be the Lord, Who hath not left thee this day without a kinsman, that his name may be famous in Israel." Naomi rejoiced and was Obed’s nurse. In fact Obed’s name was glorified in Israel, for he was the father of Jesse, the father of King David.

The Gentleman Of The Jungle

Once upon a time an elephant made a friendship with a man. One day a heavy thunderstorm broke out, the elephant went to his friend, who had a little hut at the edge of the forest, and said to him: 'My dear good man, will you please let me put my trunk inside your hut to keep it out of this torrential rain?' The man, seeing what situation his friend was in, replied: 'My dear good elephant, my hut is very small, but there is room for your trunk and myself. Please put your trunk in gently.' The elephant thanked his friend, saying: 'You have done me a good deed and one day I shall return your kindness.' But what followed? As soon as the elephant put his trunk inside the hut, slowly he pushed his head inside, and finally flung the man out in the rain, and then lay down comfortably inside his friend's hut, saying: 'My dear good friend, your skin is harder than mine, and as there is not enough room for both of us, you can afford to remain in the rain while I am protecting my delicate skin from the hailstorm.'

The man, seeing what his friend had done to him, started to grumble; the animals in the nearby forest heard the noise and came to see what was the matter. All stood around listening to the heated argument between the man and his friend the elephant. In this turmoil the lion came along roaring, and said in a loud voice: 'Don't you all know that I am the King of the Jungle! How dare any one disturb the peace of my kingdom?' On hearing this, the elephant, who was one of the high ministers in the jungle kingdom, replied in a soothing voice, and said: 'My lord, there is no disturbance of the peace in your kingdom. I have only been having a little discussion with my friend here as to the possession of this little hut which your lordship sees me occupying.' The lion, who wanted to have 'peace and tranquility’, in his kingdom, replied in a noble voice, saying: 'I command my ministers to appoint a Commission of Enquiry to go thoroughly into this matter and report accordingly.' He then turned to the man and said: 'You have done well by establishing friendship with my people, especially with the elephant, who is one of my honorable ministers of state. Do not grumble any more, your hut is not lost to you. Wait until the sitting of my Imperial Commission, and there you will be given plenty of opportunity to state your case. I am sure that you will be pleased with the findings of the Commission.' The man was very pleased by these sweet words from the King of the Jungle, and innocently waited for his opportunity, in the belief that naturally the hut would be returned to him.

The elephant, obeying the command of his master, got busy with other ministers to appoint the Commission of Enquiry. The following elders of the jungle were appointed to sit in the Commission: (1) Mr. Rhinoceros; (2) Mr. Buffalo; (3) Mr. Alligator; (4) The RT Hon. Mr. Fox to act as chairman; and (5) Mr. Leopard to act as Secretary to the Commission. On seeing the personnel, the man protested and asked if it was not necessary to include in this Commission a member from his side. But he was told that it was impossible, since no one from his side was well enough educated to understand the intricacy of jungle law. Further, that there was nothing to fear, for the members of the Commission were all men of repute for their impartiality in justice, and as they were gentlemen chosen by God to look after the interests of races less adequately endowed with teeth and claws, he might rest assured that they would investigate the matter with the greatest care and report impartially.

The Commission sat to take the evidence. The Rt Hon. Mr. Elephant was first called. He came along with a superior air, brushing his tusks with a sapling which Mrs. Elephant had provided, and in an authoritative voice said: 'Gentlemen of the Jungle, there is no need for me to waste your valuable time in relating a story which I am sure you all know.

I have always regarded it as my duty to protect the interests of my friends, and this appears to have caused the misunderstanding between myself and my friend here. He invited his hut from being blown away by a hurricane. As the hurricane had gained access owing to the unoccupied space in the hut, I considered it necessary, in my friend's own interests, to turn the undeveloped space to a more economic use by sitting in it myself; a duty which any of you would undoubtedly have performed with equal readiness in similar circumstances. After hearing the Rt Hon. Mr. Elephant's conclusive evidence, the Commission called Mr. Hyena and other elders of the jungle, who all supported what Mr. Elephant had said. They then called the man, who began to give his own account of the dispute.

But the Commission cut him short, saying: 'My good man, please confine yourself to relevant issues. We have already heard the circumstances from various unbiased sources; all we wish you to tell us is whether the undeveloped space in your hut was occupied by any one else before Mr. Elephant assumed his position?' The man began to say: 'No, but-' But at this point the Commission declared that they had heard sufficient evidence from both sides and retired to consider their decision.

After enjoying a delicious meal at the expense of the Rt Hon. Mr. Elephant, they reached their verdict, called the man, and declared as follows: 'In our opinion this dispute has arisen through a regrettable misunderstanding due to the backwardness of your ideas. We consider that Mr. Elephant has fulfilled his sacred duty of protecting your interests. As it is clearly for your good that the space should be put to its most economic use, and as you yourself have not reached the stage of expansion which would enable you to fill it, we consider it necessary to arrange a compromise to suit both parties. Mr. Elephant shall continue his occupation of your hut, but we give you permission to look for a site where you can build another hut more suited to your needs, and we will see that you are well protected.'

The man, having no alternative, and fearing that his refusal might expose him to the teeth and claws of members of the Commission, did as they suggested. But no sooner had he built another hut than Mr. Rhinoceros charged in with his horn lowered and ordered the man to quit. A Royal Commission was again appointed to look into the matter, and the same finding was given. This procedure was repeated until Mr. Buffalo, Mr. Leopard, Mr. Hyena and the rest were all accommodated with new huts. Then the man decided that he must adopt an effective method of protection, since Commissions of Enquiry did not seem to be of any use to him. He sat down and said, 'Ng'enda thi ndagaga motegi,' which literally means 'there is nothing that treads on the earth that cannot be trapped,' or in other words, you can fool people for a time, but not for ever.

Early one morning, when the huts already occupied by the jungle lords were all beginning to decay and fall to pieces, he went out and built a bigger and better hut a little distance away. No sooner had Mr. Rhinoceros seen it than he came rushing in, only to find that Mr. Elephant was already inside, sound asleep. Mr. Leopard next came to the window, Mr. Lion, Mr. Fox and Mr. Buffalo entered the doors, while Mr. Hyena howled for a place in the shade and Mr. Alligator basked on the roof. Presently they all began disputing about their rights of penetration, and from disputing they came to fighting, and while they were all embroiled together the man set the hut on fire and burnt it to the ground, jungle lords and all. Then he went home, saying: 'Peace is costly, but it's worth the expense, and lived happily ever after.

The Two Brothers

There were once two brothers, Anpu was the older, and Bata was the younger. Anpu had a wife, and owned a farm. Bata came to live with Anpu and his wife. Bata worked hard for his brother, plowing the fields, and harvesting the grain, and doing many other tasks. He was very good at his work. The animals would even speak to him. One day Anpu announced that it was time to plow the fields and sow the seeds. And he instructed his brother to take sacks of seed out to the fields. They spent the next few days plowing and sowing seeds. Then Anpu sent Bata back for more seeds. At Anpu's house, Bata found Anpu's wife fixing her hair. Bata said, "Get up and get me some seed, Anpu is waiting." Anpu's wife replied, "Get the seed yourself. I'm busy with my hair."

Bata found a large basket, and filled it with seed. And, he carried the basket through the house.

Anpu's wife said, "What is the weight of that basket you carry." Bata replied, "There are three sacks of wheat and two of barley." She said, "How strong you are, and handsome. Stay with me and let us make love. And Anpu will never know." Bata replied in horror, "Anpu is like a father to me, and you are like a mother to me. I won't tell anyone of the evil words that you have said. And never let me hear them again." He picked up his basket, and rushed out into the fields. When Anpu got back home, he realized that something was wrong. No fire had been lit, no food had been cooked, and his wife was in bed moaning and weeping. Her clothes were torn, and she seemed to be bruised. Anpu demanded that she tell him what had happened.

She replied, "When your brother came to fetch the seed, he saw me fixing my hair. He tried to make love to me. And I refused, saying, 'Is not Anpu like a father to you? And am I not like a mother to you?' And he became angry, and beat me. And he said that he would hurt me more if I told you what had happened. Oh Anpu, kill him for me, or I will surely die." Anpu was angry like a leopard. He took a spear, and hid behind the door of the cattle pen, waiting to kill his brother. When the sun had gone down, Bata returned with the cattle. The first cow said to Bata, "Your brother hides with a spear, behind the door. And he plans to kill you. Run away while you can."

Bata would not believe the cow. But the second cow gave him the same warning. Then he saw his brother's feet behind the door. And he was afraid and ran away. Anpu chased him in great anger. As he ran, Bata called out to Ra, "O my good lord, who judges between the bad and the good, save me."

And Ra heard Bata's prayer, and caused a river to flow between them. The river was wide and full of crocodiles. The two brothers stood on opposite banks of the river. Bata shouted to Anpu, "Ra delivers the wicked to the just. But I must leave you. Why did you try to kill me, without giving me a chance to explain?" And Bata told his side of the story. Then Bata took out his knife and cut himself, and he fell to the ground. And Anpu believed him, and was sick at heart. And he longed to be on the other side of the river, with his brother.

Bata spoke again, "I must go to the valley of cedars, to be healed. And I shall hide my heart in a cedar tree. And when the cedar tree is cut down, I will be in danger of dying. If your beer turns sour, you will know that I need your help. Come to the valley of cedars and search for my heart. Put my heart in a bowl of water. And I will come back to life again. Anpu promised to obey his brother, and went home. He killed his wife, and threw her body to the dogs. Bata traveled to the valley of cedars, and rested until his wound had healed. He hunted wild beasts and built a house for himself. And he hid his heart in the branches of a tree.

One day, the nine gods were walking in the valley. And they saw that Bata was lonely. And Ra ordered Khnum to make a wife for Bata, on his potter’s wheel. And when the gods breathed life into her, they saw that she was the most beautiful woman who ever lived. The seven Hathors gathered to declare her fate, and said that she would die a sudden death. Bata loved her. And he knew that whoever saw her would desire her. Every day, as he left to hunt wild animals, he warned her, "Stay in the house, or the sea may try to carry you away. And there is little I could do to save you." One day, when Bata had gone out to hunt, his wife grew bored and went out for a walk.

And, as she stood beneath the tree, the sea saw her, and surged up the valley to get her. She tried to flee. But the tree caught her by the hair. She escaped, leaving a lock of her hair in the tree. The sea took the lock of hair, and carried it to Egypt, where the Nile took it. And the hair floated to where the washermen of the King were washing the King's clothes. And the sweet-smelling hair caused the King's clothes to smell like perfume. And the King complained of this. This happened every day. One day the overseer of the washermen saw the lock of hair caught in the reeds. He ordered that it be brought to him. And he smelled its sweet smell. And he took the lock of hair to the King. And the King's advisers said, "This is a lock of hair from a daughter of Ra." And the King wanted to make this woman his Queen. The King sent many messengers to all lands.

 All returned to say that they had failed to find the woman. But one returned from the valley of the cedars to say that his companions had been killed by Bata, and that Bata's wife was the woman that he sought. The King sent many soldiers to fetch Bata's wife. And with the soldiers, he sent a woman to give jewels to Bata's wife, and to tell her that the King wanted to make her a queen. Bata's wife told this woman that Bata's heart was hidden in the tree, and that if the tree were cut down, Bata would die. And the soldiers cut down the tree. As the tree fell, Bata fell down dead. And the soldiers chopped up the tree and dispersed the pieces. At the same moment that Bata died, Anpu's beer began to bubble and turn sour. And he immediately put on his sandals, and grabbed his spear and his staff, and hastened to the valley of cedars.

There he found his brother dead, and he wept. But he remembered his brother's instruction and searched for his heart. He searched in vain for three years. And he longed to return to Egypt. At the beginning of the fourth year, he said to himself, "If I don't find my brother's heart tomorrow, I will go back home." The next day, he searched again. And near the end of the day, he found what he thought was a seed. But it was Bata's dried up heart. And he put it in a bowl of water, and sat down to wait. The heart grew as it absorbed water. Bata came back to life, but was very weak. Then Anpu held the bowl to Bata's lips, and he swallowed the remaining water, and then swallowed his own heart. And his strength returned to him. And the two brothers embraced. Bata said, "Tomorrow, I will change myself into a sacred bull. And you will ride me back to Egypt. Lead me before the King. And he will reward you. Then return to your house."

The next day, Bata changed into a bull. And Anpu rode him to Egypt, and led him before the King. The King rewarded Anpu with gold, and silver, and land, and slaves. And there was rejoicing throughout the land. And Anpu returned to his house. Eventually, Bata encountered his wife, who was now the Queen. And he said, "Look upon me, for I am alive." She asked, "And who are you?" He replied, "I am Bata. And it was you who caused the tree to be cut down, so that I would be destroyed. But I am alive." And she trembled in fear, and left the room.

That evening, the King sat at a feast, with his Queen. And she said to him, "Will you swear by the gods that you will give me anything that I want?" The King promised that he would. The Queen said, "I desire to eat the liver of the sacred bull, for he is nothing to you." The king was upset at her request. But the next day, he commanded that the bull be sacrificed. And the bull was sacrificed. And its blood splattered on each side the gate of the palace. That night, two persea trees sprang up next to the palace gate. The King was told of this miracle, and there was much rejoicing. One day the King and Queen were standing in the shade of one of the trees. And the tree spoke to the Queen, "False woman, you are the one who caused the cedar tree to be cut down, and you made the King slaughter the bull. But, I am Bata, I am still alive." And the Queen was afraid. Later, when the King and Queen were feasting, the Queen said, "Will you swear by the gods that you will give me anything that I want?" The King promised that he would. The Queen said, "It is my desire that those two persea trees be chopped down, to make furniture for me."

The King was troubled by her request. But the next day the King and Queen watched as the trees were cut down. As the Queen stood watching, a chip of wood flew from one of the trees, and flew into her mouth, and she swallowed it. And it made the Queen become pregnant. After many days, the Queen gave birth to a son. The King loved him, and made him heir to the throne. In time the King died, and rejoined the gods.

And his son succeeded him as King. The new King (who was Bata) summoned his court, and told everyone the story of his life. And he judged that his wife, who had become his mother, should die for her crimes. And the court agreed. And she was led away to be killed. Bata ruled Egypt for thirty years. Then he died. And his brother Anpu then ruled Egypt.