Among Men, Women, and Bird-people By Cornelia Sorabji With Illustrations by Warwick Goble BLACKIE AND SON LIMITED WARWICK HOUSE, BOMBAY LONDON AND GLASGOW INDIAN TALES OF THE GREAT ONES...

There were once two great brother-eagles—Jattayu and Sanpati. And Jattayu was King of all the Eagle Tribes; and among the birds of the air there was none more powerful than Jattayu. The brothers lived together on a crag of the mountains called the Home of Snow, which stretch across the north-east boundary of India. They lived there because there was no higher spot in all the world that could be found for their home. And day after day Jattayu ranged the air, marshalling his bird-armies, or settli

Long before time as we count it, there lived in India a great and just King whose name was Vikramaditya. When he died, his beautiful palace and city of marble fell into ruins: and people remembered nothing but his name, and that he was great and good, and wise and gentle. One day, some boys who were minding cows led them near a green mound among the ruins: and while the cows cropped the grass, the boys played. And one of them invented this game. “I shall be the Judge,” he said, “and you shall br

Samyukta, daughter of the King of Kanauj, was the most beautiful Princess in all India. And Prithi Raja, the King of Delhi, wanted to marry her. He knew that it would not be easy, because her father was his enemy. However, always and always he liked best to do what was not easy to do. So he meant to try. First he sought out her old nurse, who lived not far from the palace. Touching her feet with his forehead, as is the way of saluting mother-people, he asked her advice. The old woman loved Prith

There was a Master-Archer whose name was Drona: and it was he who taught all the princes of India to shoot, so that none could conquer them. Now he was jealous for the honour of the princes. And there came to him one named Ekalavya, the king of a caste that was not the soldier-caste, who said: “Teach me to shoot.” But Drona made answer: “You are not of the knightly caste. I cannot teach you.” For he was afraid that the low-caste man might become the equal of the high-born princes. Then Ekalavya

One day Drona, the Master-Archer, made trial of the skill of the princes his pupils. He had them all out before him together. “Take your bows and arrows,” said he, “and be ready to shoot, when I tell you, at the blue bird in yonder tree.” Prince Yudhisthira, being the eldest, was called first. “Be ready to shoot,” said Drona. “But tell me first what you see. Do you see the bird?” “Yes,” said Yudhisthira. “What else do you see? Myself, your brothers, or the tree?” “I see yourself, my brothers, th

When Arjun grew to be a man, one of his first battles was against a King called Drupada. He and his four brothers, the Pandavas as they were called, put their soldiers in a ring round King Drupada’s fortress, and let no one pass out or go in. In a week all the King’s servants were dead: and the brothers marched into the palace and took all that they wanted of gold and emeralds, of horses and chariots. The lady Draupadi also, the King’s daughter, became theirs by the rules of war. And Draupadi li

Everyone knows the name of Dhritarashtra, the uncle of the five great soldier-men, the Pandavas. Dhritarashtra was blind; and Dhritarashtra was alone in his blindness. And when Gandhari, his bride, saw the hurt of his loneliness—“Let me in to him behind his bars of darkness,” she said to the gods. And she bound her eyes tightly; and day and night were alike to her for ever. But Dhritarashtra was no more lonely in his night of sightlessness....

Drupada, the King of the Panchalas, had prayed for a son, that he might destroy his enemy the Master-Archer. But his wife was childless. Then as he still prayed and prayed, Shiva appeared to him and told him that he should have a son who should first be a daughter. And in due time a daughter was born to him. But the Queen said, “She is a son;” and so great was her faith that she prevailed on the King to proclaim the child a son, and to perform the son-ceremonies. And the child was called Shikhan

Simple is the way of friendship. Make a fire of two sticks, or twenty, or two hundred—any number will do: and if you walk round the fire sunwise, with that one whom you would have for a friend, the gods themselves will not take back the gift. And this was the lesson which Drona tried to teach King Drupada. Drona was the Master-Archer as we know, and Drupada was King of the Panchalas. Now Drupada was not worthy of friendship, for he did not believe that two sticks would do for the lighting of the

Long and long ago there lived a King called Sibi Rana. He was known to all the world as a man who protected the weak, but who yet did not withhold that which might belong to the strong. So nearly perfect was he that the gods asked the greatest God to test his goodness. And this was the way of the testing. One day as the King sat in his great Hall of Justice, there came in at the window a poor frightened grey dove, nearly spent with flight, and flew straight against the heart of the King. Looking

This story is told of one Anangapal, who ruled in Delhi, and who loved justice. He caused two great lions of stone to be placed near his palace gates, where all could see them. A bell hung from the bar between the lions. Whoever struck that bell claimed justice, and got justice of Anangapal the King. One day a crow swung in the breeze on the tongue of the bell, and the cry for justice clanged forth, reaching the ear of the King. “Who strikes the bell?” he asked. “My lord, it is a crow.” “Let jus

Raziya was the daughter of Altamish, one of the Moghul slave-kings of Delhi who lived in the thirteenth century. She is the only woman besides our own Queen Victoria who has ruled Delhi. Altamish had sons also; but when he was dying he said: “You will find no one better fitted to rule the kingdom than my daughter Raziya.” And after his nobles had suffered for some time the cruelty and injustice of Raziya’s half-brother, they began to see that the King was right. And Raziya herself helped them. T

There was a Moghul boy-king, who fought his first battle when he was twelve years of age, and he won it, as he says himself, “thanks to the distinguished valour of my young soldiers”. But like the boys in fairy tales, he had wicked uncles, who made trouble for him; and before he was seventeen years old, he had won and lost two of his kingdoms. This is the boy whom all the world knows by his nickname of “Baber the Tiger”. And the most wonderful thing we know about him is his great spirit, which n

There is one story told of Humayun, the Moon-Lady’s son, which is worth remembering. Sher Khan, the Afghan, turned traitor, and the King was compelled to fly for his life. But there was no escape except across a river in flood; and his horse sank exhausted in mid-stream. Then the King would have died; but a water-carrier on the opposite bank saw the King’s trouble, and brought him his own skin-bags, on which Humayun floated safely to land. “I have nothing to give thee now,” said the King; “but c

Ghyas-ud-din Tughlak, the Moghul, had heard of the beauty of the daughters of Rana-Mal-Bhatti, the Rajput: and he wished a Rajput princess for the wife of his brother Rajab. But when he sent to ask this, Rana Mal made a haughty answer—“No daughter of the Moon could wed with a slayer of cows.” Then Tughlak demanded at once, and in cash, a whole year’s tribute to be paid to Delhi. And Rana Mal was sad, for though the people stripped themselves bare, it would not be easy. And the sound of the peopl

In the days when Ala-ud-din, the Moslem, ruled at Delhi, the beautiful rock-fortress Chittore was the capital of Rajputana, and brave Prince Bhimsi was regent for his nephew the Baby-King. Now Bhimsi had a most beautiful wife, the Lotus-Lady, the fame of whose beauty had gone forth all over India. And in the old days men thought it not wrong to try and snatch away from others anything which they wished to possess—be this thing what it might, rich city or lovely lady or priceless jewel. So Ala-ud

Rasmal Rana of Marwar had three sons—Sanga, Prithi Raj, and Jismal. And Prithi Raj was ambitious, and would boast that Fate meant him to lead the sons of Marwar. One day when he was boasting on this wise his eldest brother Sanga said: “Let the gods decide between us, brother. Although I am the eldest, you are welcome to my birthright, if so it is written. At the Tiger’s Mount lives the priestess who sees the future. Let us ask her who is to lead the ten thousand towns of Marwar when our father i

There was once a Persian Prince of noble birth who lost all his money: so he left his country and came to India, bringing with him his wife and three children. “It will not”, he said, “be so hard to be poor in a strange country.” He travelled with a great many other people, all coming through the snow mountains and passes, and wild bleak places of Afghanistan. The women rode on camels, slung in cages on either side of the driver; and most of their luggage also was carried in this way. The men wa

There were once a man and woman so truly good that the great god said he would reward them with whatever they wished to ask. “We want a son,” said the man and his wife. “You shall have a son,” said Shiva, the great god. “But you must now choose the kind of son you want. Will you have him perfect in every way, beautiful and good and clever, and loved by all the world, but doomed to be no older than his thirteenth year? Or will you have him just an ordinary boy, but living as long as the ordinary