# The Jade Story Book/Chapter 4

PUNCHKIN
Once upon a time there was a Rajah who had seven daughters. They were all good, beautiful and clever girls, but especially so was the youngest, whose name was Balna. The Rajah's wife died when they were very little children, so these seven Princesses grew up without having a loving mother to watch over and care for them.
As soon as they were old enough, the Rajah's daughters took turns every day to cook their father's dinner, while he was busily engaged with his ministers in directing the affairs of his country.
About this time the Prime Minister died, leaving a widow and one daughter, and every day, when the Princesses were getting the Rajah's dinner ready, the widow and her daughter would come and beg for some fire from the hearth. Balna would say to her sisters: "Let us send that woman away; why ​does she want our fire, when she has her own house? If we continue to allow her to come here, we shall some day be sorry for it."
But the other sisters rebuked her, and so the widow continued to take some fire from the hearth, but while no one was looking, she would throw some mud into the dishes which were being prepared for the Rajah's dinner.
One of the reasons that the daughters always prepared the food for their father was that there should be no danger of his being poisoned by his enemies, so when he found the mud mixed with his dinner he thought it was because they were careless; he knew they would not do such a thing on purpose. He loved them all very much, and hadn't the heart to reprove them, even though his meals were spoiled for several days.
This happened so often that it puzzled him, and so he made up his mind one day to hide, and watch his daughters cooking; so, going into the room next to the kitchen, he saw everything through a hole in the wall.
His daughters carefully washed the rice ​and prepared the curry, and when these were ready, they put each dish on the fire. Very soon the widow came to the door, and begged for a few sticks from the fire with which to cook her own dinner. Balna was angry with her, as usual, and said: "Why don't you keep fuel in your own house, instead of coming here every day and taking ours? Sisters, don't give her any more wood; let her use her own."
But the others said: "The poor woman is doing us no harm, so let her take a little wood and fire." Balna replied, "Perhaps some day she will do us harm, and then we shall all be sorry for it."
Then the Rajah saw the Prime Minister's widow go to the hearth, and as she took the wood, throw some mud into each of the dishes.
This made him very angry, and he ordered that the woman be brought before him.
This was done, but the widow spoke to him so very cleverly, saying that she had done this thing only that she might gain an audience with him, and so cunningly did she speak that she actually pleased him well ​with her words, and instead of punishing her, the Rajah married her; so she and her daughter came to the palace to live.
The new Ranee hated the seven poor Princesses, and wanted to get rid of them, so that her daughter might have all their riches. She was very unkind to them, and made them as miserable as she could, giving them only bread to eat and water to drink, and very little of either. This was very hard for the seven poor Princesses, who had always been used to the best of everything, and each day they would sit by their dead mother's tomb, and say:
"Oh, mother, cannot you see how unhappy and miserable your poor children are, and how our cruel stepmother is starving us?"
One day, while they were thus engaged, a beautiful pomelo tree grew up out of the grave, covered with fresh ripe pomelos, and the children certainly enjoyed the delicious fruit. And each day after this, instead of eating the poor food their stepmother provided for them, they would go to their mother's grave and eat the pomelos which grew there on the tree.
​The stepmother was astonished that the seven girls should eat nothing and yet be well, so she told her daughter to watch them.
Next day the Prime Minister's daughter followed them, and saw the Princesses gather and eat the pomelos.
Balna saw the girl watching them, and said to her sisters: "Let us drive that girl away, or else she will tell her mother all about it, and then we shall be worse off than ever."
But they said: "Do not be unkind, Balna. The girl would never be so cruel as to tell her mother. Let us instead ask her to come and have some of the fruit." So they called to her, and gave her some of the pomelos.
As soon as she could, however, she left the Princesses, and went to her mother, and told her all about the pomelo tree. She said she had eaten some, and they were the nicest she had ever tasted.
This made the cruel Ranee very angry, and the next day she told the Rajah that she had a very bad headache, and would have to stay in bed.
​The Rajah was much upset, and asked what he could do for her.
She replied that there was only one thing that would cure her, and that was to boil a fine pomelo tree, root and branch, that grew on his dead wife's grave, and to put some of the water in which it had been boiled on her forehead. So the Raja did as the Ranee desired, and then she declared that she was quite well.
Next day the Princesses went as usual to their mother's grave, and when they found that the pomelo tree had disappeared, they wept bitterly.
As they sat there crying they saw by the tomb a small tank filled with a rich cream-like substance, which hardened into a thick white cake. They ate some of this, and liked it. Next day the same thing happened, and so it went on for many days.
The cruel stepmother said to her daughter:
"I don't understand this; I have had the pomelo tree destroyed, and yet the Princesses are as well as ever, although they never eat the dinner I give them. You must watch them again."
​Next day, while the Princesses were eating the cream-cake, along came their stepmother's daughter. Balna saw her first, and said: "Here comes that girl again. Let us sit around the edge of the tank and not allow her to see it, for if we give her some of the cake she will go and tell her mother, and that will be very unfortunate for us."
But instead of following her advice the other sisters gave the girl some of the cake, and she went straight home and told her mother all about it.
This made the Ranee more angry than before, and she sent her servants to pull down the tomb and fill the little tank with the ruins. The next day she pretended to be very ill indeed, and told the rajah that she was at the point of death.
This grieved him greatly, and he asked her if there were any remedy he could get for her. She replied that only one thing could save her life, but this she knew he would not do. He said that whatever it was, he would do it.
Then she told him that if he would save her life, he must kill his seven daughters, ​and put some of their blood on her forehead and on the palms of her hands; that their death would be her life.
This made the Rajah very sad, but he had promised, and feared to break his word, so with a heavy heart he went to seek his daughters, whom he found crying by the ruins of their mother's grave.
Knowing that he could not kill them he spoke kindly to them, and told them to come out into the jungle with him. There he made a fire, and cooked some rice, which they ate.
It was a hot afternoon and all the Princesses fell asleep, and then the Rajah stole away and left them, saying to himself, "It is better that my poor daughters die here rather than be killed by their stepmother."
Then he shot a deer, and returning home, put some of its blood on the forehead and hands of the Ranee, who thought that he had really killed his daughters, and said she felt quite well.
When the seven Princesses awoke and found themselves all alone in the thick jungle, they were frightened, and called out as ​loud as they could, hoping to make their father hear; but he was too far away by that time.
It so happened that this very day the seven young sons of a neighboring Rajah chanced to be hunting in the same jungle, and as they were returning home, after the day's sport was over, the youngest Prince said to his brothers: "Stop, I think I hear someone crying and calling out. Let us go in the direction of the sound, and find out what it is."
So the seven Princes rode through the wood until they came to the place where the seven Princesses sat crying and wringing their hands. At the sight of them the young Princes were very much astonished, and still more so on learning their story. They then decided that each should take one of the unfortunate young ladies home with him and marry her.
The eldest Prince took the eldest Princess home with him and married her.
The second took the second; the third took the third; the fourth took the fourth; the fifth took the fifth; the sixth took the ​sixth, and the seventh, the handsomest of all the Princes, took the beautiful and clever Balna.
There was great rejoicing throughout the kingdom when the seven young Princes married the seven beautiful Princesses.
About a year later Balna had a little son, and his uncles and aunts were so fond of him that he was in great danger of being spoiled. None of the other Princesses had any children, so Balna's son was acknowledged their heir by all of them.
They lived very happily for some time, when one day Balna's husband decided to go out hunting, and away he went. They waited a long time for his return, but he never came back.
His six brothers went in search of him, but none of them returned. And the seven Princesses grieved greatly, for they feared that their kind husbands had been killed.
One day, not long after this, as Balna was rocking her baby's cradle, and whilst her sisters were working in the room below, there came to the palace door a man in a long black cloak, who said he was a Fakir, and ​had come to beg. The servants would not let him enter the palace, saying that the Rajah's sons had all gone away, and they feared that they were dead, and their widows must not be interrupted by his begging. But he said, "I am a holy man and you must let me in." Then the stupid servants let him walk through the palace; they did not know that he was no Fakir, but a wicked Magician named Punchkin.
He wandered through the palace, looking at the beautiful things there, and at length reached the room where Balna sat singing to her little boy. The Magician thought her more beautiful than all the other beautiful things he had seen, and he asked her to go home with him and to marry him. But she said: "I fear my husband is dead, but my little boy is still very young; I will stay here and teach him to grow up to be a clever man, and when he is old enough he shall go out into the world and seek news of his father. Heaven forbid that I should ever leave him, or marry you."
This made the Magician very angry, so he turned her into a little black dog, and ​led her away, saying, "Since you will not come with me of your own free will, I will make you." So the poor Princess was dragged away, unable to escape or to let her sisters know what had become of her.
As Punchkin went through the palace gate the servants asked him where he got that pretty little dog, and he replied that one of the Princesses had given it to him, so they allowed him to depart.
Very soon the six elder Princesses heard their nephew cry, and when they went upstairs were much surprised to find him all alone, and Balna nowhere to be seen. They questioned the servants, and when they heard of the Fakir and the little black dog they guessed what had happened and sent in every direction, but neither the Fakir nor the dog was to be found. They could do nothing, and gave up all hopes of ever seeing their kind husbands and their sister and her husband again, and so devoted themselves to the care and teaching of their little nephew.
Time went on, and Balna's son was fourteen years old. Then his aunts told him the whole story. No sooner had he heard ​this than he was seized with a great desire to go in search of his father and mother and uncles, and if he could find them alive to bring them home again. On learning his determination his aunts were much alarmed, saying, "We have lost our husbands and our sister and her husband and you are now our only hope; if you go away, what shall we do?" But he replied, "Do not be discouraged; I will soon return, and if it is possible will bring my mother and father and uncles with me." So he set out on his travels, but for several months could learn nothing that would help him in his search.
After journeying many hundreds of weary miles, and having become almost hopeless of hearing anything further of his parents and uncles, he reached a country that was full of rocks and stones and trees, and there he saw a large palace with a high tower, near which was a Malee's little house.
As he was looking about the Malee's wife saw him, and ran out of the house and said:
"My dear boy, who are you that dare venture to this dangerous place?"
He answered, "I am a Rajah's son, and I ​am in search of my father and mother and my uncles, whom a wicked enchanter bewitched."
Then said the Malee's wife: "This country and this palace belong to a great Magician, who is all-powerful, and if anyone displeases him he turns them into stones and trees. All the rocks and trees you see here were once living people, and the enchanter turned them into what they now are. Some time ago a Rajah's son came here, and soon afterwards came his six brothers, and all of them were turned into stones and trees; and these are not the only unfortunate ones, for up in that tower lives a beautiful Princess whom the Magician has kept prisoner there for twelve years, because she hates him and will not marry him."
The young Prince said to himself, "At last I have found what I seek; these must be my parents and uncles." So he told his story to the Malee's wife, and begged her to help him. This she agreed to do, and advised him to disguise himself, lest the Magician should see him and turn him into stone. So she dressed him up in a saree, ​and pretended that he was her daughter.
One day, not long after this, as the Magician was walking in his garden he saw a little girl (as he thought) playing about, and asked her who she was. She told him she was the Malee's daughter, and the Magician said, "You are a very pretty little girl, and to-morrow you shall take a present of flowers from me to the beautiful lady who lives in the tower."
This delighted the young Prince, who went immediately to inform the Malee's wife.
Now it happened that when Balna was married her husband had given her a small gold ring on which her name was engraved, and she had put it on her little son's finger when he was a baby, and later on it was enlarged, so that he was still able to wear it. The Malee's wife advised him to fasten this ring to the bouquet he was to present to his mother, and she would surely recognize it.
This the young Prince did the next day when he took the flowers to the imprisoned Princess. Balna knew the ring at once, and ​believed the story her son told her of his long search. She told him how the Magician had kept her shut up in the tower for twelve long years because she refused to marry him, and had kept her so closely guarded that there was no hope of release. She begged him to advise her what to do, and at the same time refused to allow him to endanger his own life by attempting to rescue her.
Balna's son was a very clever boy, and he said: "Dear mother, have no fear; the first thing to do is to find out how far the Magician's power extends, in order that we may be able to free my father and uncles. You have been angry with him for twelve long years, now speak kindly to him. Say that you have given up all hopes of seeing your husband again, and that you are willing to marry him. Then try to find out where his power lies, and if it is possible to put him to death."
So the next day Balna sent for Punchkin, and spoke to him as her son had suggested. The Magician was overwhelmed with joy at ​this change, and asked that the wedding take place as soon as possible.
But she said that before she married him she must learn to know him better, they having been enemies for so long, and a closer acquaintance with him was necessary in order to strengthen their friendship. "And do tell me," she said, "if you are quite immortal. Can death never come to you?"
"Why do you ask?" said he.
"Because," she replied, "if I am to be your wife, I want to know all about you, so that if any calamity threatens you, I may help to overcome, or perhaps avert it."
"Certainly I am not as others," said he. "Far, far away, thousands of miles from here, is a desolate country covered with heavy jungles, in the midst of which grows a circle of palm trees, in the center of which stand six jugs full of water, piled one above the other, and below the sixth is a cage which contains a little green parrot. On this parrot my life depends, for if this parrot is killed I must die. But it is impossible that the parrot should come to any harm, both because of the inaccessibility of the country, ​and because I have many thousands of genii surrounding the palm trees, who kill anyone attempting to approach the place."
All this Balna told her son, at the same time imploring him to make no attempt to kill the parrot.
But the young Prince replied: "Dear Mother, if I do not find that parrot, neither you nor my uncles can be liberated. Do not fear; I shall return in good season. In the meantime, keep the Magician in good humor, and put off the marriage with him in any way you can. Before he finds out the reason for the delay I will return." With this he went away.
He travelled many weary miles through a very desolate country, and at last came to a thick jungle. Being very tired, he sat down under a tree and fell asleep. Suddenly he was awakened by a rustling sound, and looking about him, saw a large serpent making its way to an eagle's nest which was in the tree beneath which he was, and in the nest were two young eagles. He at once drew his sword and killed the serpent. At this moment a rushing sound was heard in ​the air, and the two old eagles, who had been hunting food for their little ones, returned. They saw the dead serpent and the young Prince standing over it, and the mother eagle said to him: "For many years our young ones have been devoured by that cruel serpent, and you have now saved the lives of our children; whenever you may need our help, send to us, and as for these little eagles, take them, and let them be your servants."
Then was the Prince glad. He told them of the spot he wished to reach, and so the two eaglets crossed their wings, on which he mounted, and they carried him far away over the thick jungles until he reached the circle of palm trees, in the midst of which stood the six jugs full of water. It was the hottest part of the day, and all round the trees the genii were fast asleep. There were many thousands of them, so that it would have been impossible for anyone to walk through their ranks, but they had not thought that an attempt to reach the spot could be made from above. Down swooped the strong-winged eaglets, and down jumped the ​Prince. In the twinkling of an eye he had overthrown the six jugs full of water, seized the little parrot, which he rolled up in his cloak, and mounted again into the air. Of course, this awoke the genii, who filled the air with their howls and screeches when they found the treasure gone.
Away flew the eaglets, and when they had reached their home in the tree the Prince said to the old eagles, "Here are your little ones, who have done me good service. If I ever need your help again I will not fail to ask you for it." He then continued his journey on foot until he arrived at the Magician's palace, at the door of which he sat down and began playing with the parrot.
Punchkin saw him, and came to him at once, and said: "My boy, where did you get that parrot? I pray you, give it to me."
The Prince answered, "This parrot is a great pet of mine, and I cannot give it away."
Then the Magician asked him to sell it to him if he would not give it, but this the Prince said he would not do.
Then was Punchkin filled with fear, and ​said he would give him anything he might ask for it.
The Prince answered, "Liberate at once the Rajah's seven sons whom you turned into rocks and stones."
"I will do it at once," said the Magician. And with a wave of his wand Balna's husband and his brothers resumed their natural shapes.
"Now give me the parrot," implored Punchkin.
"Just wait a minute," said the Prince. "You will first restore to life all whom you have thus imprisoned."
This the Magician did immediately, and then, in a trembling voice, cried, "Give me my parrot."
And now the whole garden was alive with people. Where there had been rocks and stones now stood Rajahs, Punts, Sirdars, men on horseback, pages and servants.
"Give me my parrot!" cried Punchkin. But the only reply the boy made was to break off one of its wings, and as he did so the Magician's right arm fell off.
With his left arm outstretched Punchkin ​cried, "Give me my parrot!" Off came the second wing, and the Magician's left arm fell to the ground.
On his knees he begged, "Give me my parrot!" Then the Prince pulled off the right leg, and the Magician's right leg fell off. The parrot's left leg came off, and at once Punchkin's left leg fell down.
And now there remained only the Magician's body and head, but still he cried, "Give me my parrot!"
"Take your parrot, then," said the boy, and with this he wrung the bird's neck and threw it at what was left of the Magician. As the parrot's neck was wrung, Punchkin's head twisted around, and with a groan, he fell dead.
Then they released Balna from the tower, and all of them returned to their own palace; and it can be imagined with what joy the seven husbands and seven wives and their nephew met again.
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