Indian Fairy Tales The Beetle and the Silken Thread

Indian Fairy Tales
The Beetle and the Silken Thread






The strange adventures related in the story of the Beetle and the
Silken Thread took place in the town of Allahabad, "the City of God,"
so called because it is situated near the point of meeting of the two
sacred rivers of India, the Ganges, which the Hindus lovingly call
Mother Ganga because they believe its waters can wash away their sins,
and the Jumna, which they consider scarcely less holy.

The ruler of Allahabad was a very selfish and hot-tempered Raja named
Surya Pratap, signifying "Powerful as the Sun," who expected everybody
to obey him without a moment's delay, and was ready to punish in
a very cruel manner those who hesitated to do so. He would never
listen to a word of explanation, or own that he had been mistaken,
even when he knew full well that he was in the wrong. He had a mantri,
that is to say, a chief vizier or officer, whom he greatly trusted,
and really seemed to be fond of, for he liked to have him always near
him. The vizier was called Dhairya-Sila, or "the Patient One," because
he never lost his temper, no matter what provocation he received. He
had a beautiful house, much money and many jewels, carriages to drive
about in, noble horses to ride and many servants to wait upon him,
all given to him by his master. But what he loved best of all was
his faithful wife, Buddhi-Mati, or "the Sensible One," whom he had
chosen for himself, and who would have died for him.

Many of the Raja's subjects were jealous of Dhairya-Sila, and
constantly brought accusations against him, of none of which his master
took any notice, except to punish those who tried to set him against
his favourite. It really seemed as if nothing would ever bring harm to
Dhairya-Sila; but he often told his wife that such good fortune was not
likely to last, and that she must be prepared for a change before long.

It turned out that he was right. For one day Surya Pratap ordered
him to do what he considered would be a shameful deed. He refused;
telling his master that he was wrong to think of such a thing, and
entreating him to give up his purpose. "All your life long," he said,
"you will wish you had listened to me; for your conscience will never
let you rest!"

On hearing these brave words, Surya Pratap flew into a terrible rage,
summoned his guards, and ordered them to take Dhairya-Sila outside the
city to a very lofty tower, and leave him at the top of it, without
shelter from the sun and with nothing to eat or drink. The guards were
at first afraid to touch the vizier, remembering how others had been
punished for only speaking against him. Seeing their unwillingness,
the Raja got more and more angry; but Dhairya-Sila himself kept quite
calm, and said to the soldiers:




The guards were relieved to find they need not drag the vizier away;
for they admired his courage and felt sure that the Raja would soon
find he could not get on without him. It might go hardly with them if
he suffered harm at their hands. So they only closed in about him;
and holding himself very upright, Dhairya-Sila walked to the tower
as if he were quite glad to go. In his heart however he knew full
well that it would need all his skill to escape with his life.

When her husband did not come home at night, Buddhi-Mati was very
much distressed. She guessed at once that something had gone wrong,
and set forth to try and find out what had happened. This was easy
enough; for as she crept along, with her veil closely held about her
lest she should be recognised, she passed groups of people discussing
the terrible fate that had befallen the favourite. She decided that
she must wait until midnight, when the streets would be deserted and
she could reach the tower unnoticed. It was almost dark when she got
there, but in the dim light of the stars she made out the form of him
she loved better than herself, leaning over the edge of the railing
at the top.

"Is my dear lord still alive?" she whispered, "and is there anything
I can do to help him?"

"You can do everything that is needed to help me," answered
Dhairya-Sila quietly, "if you only obey every direction I give you. Do
not for one moment suppose that I am in despair. I am more powerful
even now than my master, who has but shown his weakness by attempting
to harm me. Now listen to me. Come to-morrow night at this very hour,
bringing with you the following things: first, a beetle; secondly,
sixty yards of the finest silk thread, as thin as a spider's web;
thirdly, sixty yards of cotton thread, as thin as you can get it,
but very strong; fourthly, sixty yards of good stout twine; fifthly,
sixty yards of rope, strong enough to carry my weight; and last,
but certainly not least, one drop of the purest bees' honey."


Buddhi-Mati listened very attentively to these strange instructions,
and began to ask questions about them. "Why do you want the beetle? Why
do you want the honey?" and so on. But her husband checked her. "I have
no strength to waste in explanations," he said. "Go home in peace,
sleep well, and dream of me." So the anxious wife went meekly away;
and early the next day she set to work to obey the orders she had
received. She had some trouble in obtaining fine enough silk, so
very, very thin it had to be, like a spider's web; but the cotton,
twine and rope were easily bought; and to her surprise she was not
asked what she wanted them for. It took her a good while to choose
the beetle. For though she had a vague kind of idea that the silk,
the cotton, twine, and rope, were to help her husband get down from
the tower, she could not imagine what share the beetle and the honey
were to take. In the end she chose a very handsome, strong-looking,
brilliantly coloured fellow who lived in the garden of her home and
whom she knew to be fond of honey.



All the time Buddhi-Mati was at work for her husband, she was thinking
of him and looking forward to the happy day of his return home. She
had such faith in him that she did not for a moment doubt that he
would escape; but she was anxious about the future, feeling sure
that the Raja would never forgive Dhairya-Sila for being wiser than
himself. Exactly at the time fixed the faithful wife appeared at the
foot of the tower, with all the things she had been told to bring
with her.

"Is all well with my lord?" she whispered, as she gazed up through
the darkness. "I have the silken thread as fine as gossamer, the
cotton thread, the twine, the rope, the beetle and the honey."

"Yes," answered Dhairya-Sila, "all is still well with me. I have
slept well, feeling confident that my dear one would bring all that
is needed for my safety; but I dread the great heat of another day,
and we must lose no time in getting away from this terrible tower. Now
attend most carefully to all I bid you do; and remember not to speak
loud, or the sentries posted within hearing will take alarm and drive
you away. First of all, tie the end of the silken thread round the
middle of the beetle, leaving all its legs quite free. Then rub the
drop of honey on its nose, and put the little creature on the wall,
with its nose turned upwards towards me. It will smell the honey, but
will not guess that it carries it itself, and it will crawl upwards in
the hope of getting to the hive from which that honey came. Keep the
rest of the silk firmly held, and gradually unwind it as the beetle
climbs up. Mind you do not let it slip, for my very life depends on
that slight link with you."


Buddhi-Mati, though her hands shook and her heart beat fast as
she realized all that depended on her, kept the silk from becoming
entangled; and when it was nearly all unwound, she heard her husband's
voice saying to her: "Now tie the cotton thread to the end of the
silk that you hold, and let it gradually unwind." She obeyed, fully
understanding now what all these preparations were for.

When the little messenger of life reached the top of the tower,
Dhairya-Sila took it up in his hand and very gently unfastened the
silken thread from its body. Then he placed the beetle carefully in
a fold of his turban, and began to pull the silken thread up--very,
very slowly, for if it had broken, his wonderful scheme would have
come to an end. Presently he had the cotton thread in his fingers,
and he broke off the silk, wound it up, and placed it too in his
turban. It had done its duty well, and he would not throw it away.

"Half the work is done now," he whispered to his faithful wife. "You
have all but saved me now. Take the twine and tie it to the end of
the cotton thread."

Very happily Buddhi-Mati obeyed once more; and soon the cotton thread
and twine were also laid aside, and the strong rope tied to the last
was being quickly dragged up by the clever vizier, who knew that all
fear of death from sunstroke or hunger was over. When he had all the
rope on the tower, he fastened one end of it to the iron railing which
ran round the platform on which he stood, and very quickly slid down
to the bottom, where his wife was waiting for him, trembling with joy.







After embracing his wife and thanking her for saving him, the vizier
said to her: "Before we return home, let us give thanks to the great
God who helped me in my need by putting into my head the device
by which I escaped." The happy pair then prostrated themselves
on the ground, and in fervent words of gratitude expressed their
sense of what the God they worshipped had done for them. "And now,"
said Dhairya-Sila, "the next thing we have to do is to take the dear
little beetle which was the instrument of my rescue back to the place
it came from." And taking off his turban, he showed his wife the tiny
creature lying in the soft folds.

Buddhi-Mati led her husband to the garden where she had found the
beetle, and Dhairya-Sila laid it tenderly on the ground, fetched some
food for it, such as he knew it loved, and there left it to take up
its old way of life. The rest of the day he spent quietly in his own
home with his wife, keeping out of sight of his servants, lest they
should report his return to his master. "You must never breathe a
word to any one of how I escaped," Dhairya-Sila said, and his wife
promised that she never would.



All this time the Raja was feeling very unhappy, for he thought he
had himself caused the death of the one man he could trust. He was too
proud to let anybody know that he missed Dhairya-Sila, and was longing
to send for him from the tower before it was too late. What then was
his relief and surprise when a message was brought to him that the
vizier was at the door of the palace and begged for an interview.

"Bring him in at once," cried Surya Pratap. And the next moment
Dhairya-Sila stood before his master, his hands folded on his breast
and his head bent in token of his submission. The attendants looked
on, eager to know how he had got down from the tower, some of them
anything but glad to see him back. The Raja took care not to show
how delighted he was to see him, and pretending to be angry, he said:

"How dare you come into my presence, and which of my subjects has
ventured to help you to escape the death on the tower you so richly
deserved?"

"None of your subjects, great and just and glorious ruler," replied
Dhairya-Sila, "but the God who created us both, making you my
master and me your humble servant. It was that God," he went on,
"who saved me, knowing that I was indeed guiltless of any crime
against you. I had not been long on the tower when help came to me
in the form of a great and noble eagle, which appeared above me,
hovering with outspread wings, as if about to swoop down upon me and
tear me limb from limb. I trembled greatly, but I need have had no
fear; for instead of harming me, the bird suddenly lifted me up in
its talons and, flying rapidly through the air, landed me upon the
balcony of my home and disappeared. Great indeed was the joy of my
wife at my rescue from what seemed to be certain death; but I tore
myself away from her embraces, to come and tell my lord how heaven
had interfered to prove my innocence."

Fully believing that a miracle had taken place, Surya Pratap asked
no more questions, but at once restored Dhairya-Sila to his old
place as vizier, taking care not again to ill-treat the man he now
believed to be under the special care of God. Though he certainly did
not deserve it, the vizier prospered greatly all the rest of his life
and as time went on he became the real ruler of the kingdom, for the
Raja depended on his advice in everything. He grew richer and richer,
but he was never really happy again, remembering the lie he had told to
the master to whom he owed so much. Buddhi-Mati could never understand
why he made up the story about the eagle, and constantly urged him to
tell the truth. She thought it was really far more wonderful that a
little beetle should have been the means of rescuing him, than that
a strong bird should have done so; and she wanted everyone to know
what a very clever husband she had. She kept her promise never to tell
anyone what really happened, but the secret came out for all that. By
the time it was known, however, Dhairya-Sila was so powerful that no
one could harm him, and when he died his son took his place as vizier,