________________
SEPTEMBER, 1891.]
FOLKLORE IN SOUTHERN INDIA; No. 37.
819
before my end approaches, I shall have performed all the rites necessary for the salvation of my parents and myself."
Thus thought Atirûpa and made up his mind to be off the next morning before dawn, and, as that was to be the last day in his life under his parents' roof, he was unusually cheerful. But instead of retiring to rest at the usual appointed time, Atirúpa kept his father engaged in conversation to a late hour of the night. At length the aged couple retired to rest, and Atirupu did so, too, with tears in his eyes at the thought of the morrow's parting. But sleep he could not. He walked round and round the house ; handled each palm-leaf volume on astrology, wept over it, and replaced it in its original position; went to the spot where his father used to take his seat while teaching his son; stood there for a short time and wept over it, and thus paid his last visit to every familiar part of his humble dwelling. When the night had almost drawn to # close "sball I run away or not p" thought Atirupa. Sometimes he thought it best to go, sometimes that he would stay at home and take his chance. At last the original resolve prevailed, and, packing up a small bundle of clothes and with nothing in hand, he left his home!
" The launch is always difficult and afterwards everything becomes smooth," runs the proverb. Even so Atira pa found it in his case. He who had had so much difficulty in quitting his home, found his mind soon made easy. The thought consoled him that in a year and a half he would be alive no mure, while his parents would still be expecting his return, and be thus spending their days in less grief than if he had remained and died in their presence. He walked on as fast as he could, He begged his meals on his way, and without showing that he knew anything of astrology, lest he should give a clue as to where he had gone, he went onwards like an ordinary beggar, walking all day and sleeping at night.
After travelling thus for nearly two months he reached the city of Chandragiri. Now Atirûpa was from the south, and the people there did not understand his language, and though he begged in several places, no one would feed him. For the first time in his journey he found it difficult to live. “My difficulties have commenced in earnest now; God knows where they will end," thought he.
The day was almost drawing to a close, and our hero had not yet had his meal and rest. He wandered about the streets in the evening twilight, when a grand pandál met his eyes. The place had the appearance of marriage festivities, and he thought that if he went there he would be fed along with the rest, and he was not wrong in his expectation. It was the minister's house, and grand preparations were going on for the marriage of his son with the beautiful princess of Chandragiri. There were yet a couple of days before that happy event would take place; but the preparations had been going on for some weeks. The feastiny of poor Brahmans had also begut, and so Atirûpa, after some difficulty in explaining himself, discovered that the feeding would begin at the tenth ghalika of the night, and that until then be might rest where he liked. Constant walking had made him thoroughly weary, and, though he might lose his food, he did not like to lose the opportunity of resting his wearied limhs. Near the pandál there was a big mansion, -evidently belonging to a rich person. No one was vutside the house, and it had a big verandah. Atirûpa got on to this, and, retiring to a corner, covered his body with his cloth and fell asleep. The night had just set in, and sleep soon overtook our hero.
Leaving him for a while to rest, let us return to his parents. They got up as usual, and missed their son. At first they thought that he must have gone out early that day to the river to bathe, and as he had not returned after the tenth ghatiká, they thought he must have gone to the adjacent village to see a friend. But even on the third day their son had not returned. Thus one day after another passed, and Atirûpa never returned! As the days passed the anxiety of the parents became greater. They searched the whole country to the best of their ability, and obtained here and there slight hints that their son had gone on
