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FOLKLORE IN WESTERN INDIA.
215
AUGUST, 1893.]
On the tree, however, pressing him further, he replied: "As yon are so very anxious to know my history, I shall tell it to you. Learn then first of all that I am going in search of my nasib, which I am told lies asleep beyond the seven seas! He then unfolded to the sympathising tree the whole doleful tale of his poverty, his brother's brutal treatment of him, and his interview with his brother's nasib.
When the tree had heard all, it said: "I feel very much for you, and hope you will succeed in finding out your nosib. And if ever you meet him, will you not do me the favour to ask him, if he can tell why it should be my lot to produce such bitter mangoes? Not a traveller that passes under me fails to take up one of my fruit, only to fling it from him in disgust on finding it taste so bitter and unwholesome, and curse me into the bargain."
"I will, with pleasure," was our hero's reply, as he listlessly rose and again proceeded on his weary journey. He had not gone many miles, however, when he saw a very strange sight. A large fish was rolling most restlessly on the sandy banks of a river- it would toss itself to and fro, and curse itself at every turn for being so miserable.
Our hero felt much grieved to see the plight the poor creature was in, when the fish, happening to look at him, asked him who he was, and where he was going.
On being told that he was going in search of his nasib, the fish said: "If you succeed in finding your nasib, will you ask him in my name, why it is that a poor creature like myself should be so ill used as to be made to leave its native element and to be tortured to death on these hot sands ?"
"Very well," replied our hero, and went his way again.
Some days after this, he arrived at a large city, the towers of which seemed to touch the skies, so grand and beautiful was it. As he proceeded farther into it, admiring its lofty edifices and beautifully built palaces, he was told that the Râjà of that place was just then engaged in having a new tower built, which in spite of all the skill the best architects bestowed on it, tumbled down as soon as it was finished, without any apparent cause whatever. The poor traveller, therefore, out of mere curiosity, went near the tower, when the Râjâ, who was sitting by, with a disconsolate look, watching the operations of the workmen, was struck with his foreign look and manners, and asked him who he was, and where he was going. Our hero, thereupon, fell at the Raja's feet, related to him his strange story, and told him the nature of his errand. The Raja heard him through, and then desired him to inquire of his nás.b why it was that the tower he was bent on building collapsed as soon as it reached completion.
The poor man made his obeisance to the Raja, and promising to do his bidding, soon took leave of him.
He had not gone very far, however, on what now seemed to be his interminable journey, when he encountered a fine horse beautifully caparisoned and ready bridled, pasturing in a meadow.
On seeing him the steed looked sorrowfully at him and said: "Good Sir, you look as if you were laden with as much care as I am; tell me, therefore, where you are going, and what is the object of your journey?"
Our hero told him every thing, and the horse, too, in his turn, charged him with a message to his nasib. He was to ask that personage, why it was that the gallant steed, so powerful and so handsome, was destined to his utter grief and despair to idle away his life in the manner he did, instead of being made to gallop and prance about under the control of a rider, although he was all-anxious to serve a master and go to the battle field to share his fortunes, whenever le might wish to take him.
"Very well, my friend," replied our hero, "I shall do as you desire." So saying he patted the noble animal on its back and trudged along as before.
