<!--t The Story of Punchkin the Magician t-->
<!--d This is a story of Princess Bala, a young prince, and Punchkin the Magician. Will the prince be able to rescue Princess Bala from the clutches of Punchkin? Listen to this story to learn more. d-->
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This story was published as three episodes on the Myths, Legends and Fairytales of India podcast.
Listen to [Part I of the story here]
Listen to [Part II of the story here]
Listen to [Part III of the story here]
Once upon a time there was a Raja who had seven beautiful daughters. They were all good girls; but the youngest, named Bala, was more clever than the rest. The Raja’s wife died when they were quite little children, so these seven poor Princesses were left with no mother to take care of them.
The Raja’s daughters took turns to cook their father’s dinner every day.
About this time the Pradhan died, leaving a widow and one daughter. Every day, when the seven Princesses were preparing their father’s dinner, the Pradhan’s widow and daughter would come and beg for a little fire from the hearth. Then Bala used to say to her sisters, “Send that woman away; send her away. Let her get the fire at her own house. If we allow her to come here, we shall suffer for it some day.”
But the other sisters would answer, “Be quiet, Bala; why must you always be quarrelling with this poor woman? Let her take some fire if she likes.” Then the Pradhan’s widow used to go to the hearth and take a few sticks from it; and whilst no one was looking, she would quickly throw some mud into the dishes which were being prepared for the Raja’s dinner.
Now the Raja was very fond of his daughters. Ever since their mother’s death they had cooked his dinner with their own hands, in order to avoid the danger of his being poisoned by his enemies. So, when he found the mud mixed up with his dinner, he thought it must arise from their carelessness, as it did not seem likely that any one should have put mud there on purpose. But being very kind he did not like to reprove them for it, although this spoiling of the curry was repeated many successive days.
At last, one day, he determined to hide, and watch his daughters cooking, and see how it all happened. He went into the next room, and watched them through a hole in the wall.
There he saw his seven daughters carefully washing the rice and preparing the curry, and as each dish was completed, they put it by the fire ready to be cooked. Next he noticed the Pradhan’s widow come to the door, and beg for a few sticks from the fire to
cook her dinner with. Bala turned to her, angrily, and said, “Why don’t you keep fuel in your own house, and not come here every day and take ours? Sisters, don’t give this woman any more wood; let her buy it for herself.”
Then the eldest sister answered, “Bala, let the poor woman take the wood and the fire; she does us no harm.” But Bala replied, “If you let her come here so often, maybe she will do us some harm, and make us sorry for it, some day.”
The Raja then saw the Pradhan’s widow go to the place where all his dinner was nicely prepared, and, as she took the wood, she threw a little mud into each of the dishes.
The King was very angry, and sent to have the woman seized and brought before him. But when the widow came, she told him that she had played this trick because she wanted to gain an audience with him. She spoke cleverly, and pleased him so well with her cunning words, that instead of punishing her, the Raja married her, and made her his Ranee, and she and her daughter came to live in the palace.
Now the new Ranee hated the seven poor Princesses, and wanted to get them, if possible, out of the way.This way, her daughter might have all their riches, and live in the palace as Princess in their place. Instead of being grateful to the seven princesses for their kindness to her, she did all she could to make them miserable. She gave them nothing but bread to eat, and very little of that, and very little water to drink. The seven poor little Princesses, who had been accustomed to have everything comfortable about them, and good food and good clothes all their lives long, were very miserable and unhappy. They used to go out every day and sit by their dead mother’s tomb and cry–and say:
“Oh mother, can’t you see your poor children, how unhappy we are, and how we are starved by our cruel step-mother?”
One day, while they were thus sobbing and crying, lo and behold! a beautiful mango tree grew up out of the grave, covered with fresh ripe mangoes, and the children satisfied their hunger by eating some of the fruit. Every day after this, instead of trying to eat the bad dinner their step-mother provided for them, they used to go out to their mother’s grave and eat the mangoes which grew there on the beautiful tree.
Then the Ranee said to her daughter, “I cannot tell how it is, every day those seven girls say they don’t want any dinner, and yet they never grow thin nor look ill. I cannot tell how it is.” And she bade her watch the seven Princesses, and see if any one gave them anything to eat.
So next day, when the Princesses went to their mother’s grave, and were eating the beautiful mangoes, the Pradhan’s daughter followed them, and saw them gathering the fruit.
Then Bala said to her sisters, “Do you not see that girl watching us? Let us drive her away, or hide the mangoes, else she will go and tell her mother all about it, and that will be very bad for us.”
But the other sisters said, “Oh no, do not be unkind, Bala. The girl would never be so cruel as to tell her mother. Let us rather invite her to come and have some of the fruit.” And calling her to them, they gave her one of the mangoes.
No sooner had she eaten it, however, than the Pradhan’s daughter went home and said to her mother, “No wonder the seven Princesses will not eat the dinner you prepare for them. By their mother’s grave there grows a beautiful mango tree, and they go there every day and eat the mangoes. I ate one, and it was the nicest I have ever tasted.”
The cruel Ranee was much vexed at hearing this, and all next day she stayed in her room, and told the Raja that she had a very bad headache. The Raja was deeply grieved, and said to his wife, “What can I do for you?” She answered, “There is only one thing that will make my headache well. By your dead wife’s tomb there grows a fine mango tree; you must bring that here, and boil it, root and branch, and put a little of the water in which it has been boiled, on my forehead, and that will cure my headache.” So the Raja sent his servants, and had the beautiful mango tree pulled up by the roots, and did as the Ranee desired; and when some of the water, in which it had been boiled, was put on her forehead, she said her headache was gone and she felt quite well.
Next day, when the seven Princesses went as usual to the grave of their mother, the mango tree had disappeared. Then they all began to cry very bitterly.
Now there was by the Ranee’s tomb a small tank, and as they were crying they saw that the tank was filled with a rich cream-like substance, which quickly hardened into a thick white cake. At seeing this all the Princesses were very glad, and they ate some of the cake, and liked it. The next day the same thing happened, and so it went on for many days. Every morning the Princesses went to their mother’s grave, and found the little tank filled with the nourishing cream-like cake. Then the cruel step-mother said to her daughter: “I cannot tell how it is, I have had the mango tree which used to grow by the Ranee’s grave destroyed, and yet the Princesses grow no thinner, nor look more sad, though they never eat the dinner I give them. I cannot tell how it is!”
And her daughter said, “I will watch.”
Next day, while the Princesses were eating the cream cake, who should come by but their step-mother’s daughter. Bala saw her first, and said, “See, sisters, there comes that girl again. Let us sit round the edge of the tank and not allow her to see it, for if we give her some of our cake, she will go and tell her mother; and that will be very unfortunate for us.”
The other sisters, however, thought Bala unnecessarily suspicious, and instead of following her advice, they gave the Pradhan’s daughter some of the cake, and she went home and told her mother all about it.
The Ranee, on hearing how well the Princesses fared, was exceedingly angry, and sent her servants to pull down the dead Ranee’s tomb, and fill the little tank with the ruins. And not content with this, she next day pretended to be very, very ill–in fact, at the point of death. When the Raja was much grieved, and asked her whether it was in his power to procure her any remedy, she said to him: “Only one thing can save my life, but I know you will not do it.” He replied, “Yes, whatever it is, I will do it.” She then said, “To save my life, you must kill the seven daughters of your first wife, and put some of their blood on my forehead and on the palms of my hands, and their death will be my life.” At these words the Raja was very sorrowful; but because he feared to break his word, he went out with a heavy heart to find his daughters.
He found them crying by the ruins of their mother’s grave.
Then, feeling he could not kill them, the Raja spoke kindly to them, and told them to come out into the jungle with him. There he made a fire and cooked some rice, and gave it to them. But in the afternoon, it being very hot, the seven Princesses all fell asleep. The Raja, their father, left them in the jungle. He said to himself: “It is better my poor daughters should die here, than be killed by their step-mother.”
He then shot a deer, and returning home, put some of its blood on the forehead and hands of the Ranee. She thought then that he had really killed the Princesses, and said she felt quite well.
Meantime the seven Princesses awoke, and when they found themselves all alone in the thick jungle they were much frightened. They began to call out as loud as they could, in hopes of making their father hear. But he was by that time far away, and would not have been able to hear them even had their voices been as loud as thunder.
It so happened that this very day the seven young sons of a neighbouring Raja chanced to be hunting in that same jungle. As they were returning home, after the day’s sport was over, the youngest Prince said to his brothers “Stop, I think I hear some one crying and calling out. Do you not hear voices? 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. At the sight of them the young Princes were very much astonished, and still more so on learning their story. They settled that each should take one of these poor forlorn ladies home with him, and marry her.
So the first and eldest Prince took the eldest Princess home with him, and married her. And the second took the second;
And the third took the third;
And the fourth took the fourth;
And the fifth took the fifth;
And the sixth took the sixth;
And the seventh, and the handsomest of all, took the beautiful Bala.
And when they got to their own land, there was great rejoicing throughout the kingdom, at the marriage of the seven young Princes to seven such beautiful Princesses.
About a year after this Bala had a little son, and his uncles and aunts were so fond of the boy that it was as if he had seven fathers and seven mothers. None of the other Princes and Princesses had any children, so the son of the seventh Prince and Bala was acknowledged their heir by all the rest.
They had thus lived very happily for some time, when one fine day the seventh Prince (Bala’s husband) said he would go out hunting, and away he went; and they waited long for him, but he never came back.
Then his six brothers said they would go and see what had become of him; and they went away, but they also did not return.
And the seven Princesses grieved very much, for they feared that their kind husbands must have been killed.
One day, not long after this had happened, as Bala was rocking her baby’s cradle. Her sisters were working in the room below, there came to the palace door a man in a long black dress. He looked like a Fakir, and came to beg. The servants said to him, “You cannot go into the palace–the Raja’s sons have all gone away; we think they must be dead, and their widows cannot be interrupted by your begging.” But he said, “I am a holy man, you must let me in.” Then the stupid servants let him walk through the palace, but they did not know that this was no Fakir, but a wicked Magician named Punchkin.
Punchkin Fakir wandered through the palace, and saw many beautiful things there, till at last he reached the room where Bala sat singing beside her little boy’s cradle. The Magician thought her more beautiful than all the other beautiful things he had seen. He asked her to go home with him and to marry him. But she said, “My husband, I fear, is dead, but my little boy is still quite young; I will stay here and teach him to grow up a clever man, and when he is grown up he shall go out into the world, and try and learn tidings of his father. Heaven forbid that I should ever leave him, or marry you.” At these words the Magician was very angry, and turned her into a little black dog. He 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, without any power to escape. Her sisters did not know what had become of her. As Punchkin passed through the palace gate the servants said to him, “Where did you get that pretty little dog?” And he answered, “One of the Princesses gave it to me as a present.” At hearing which they let him go without further questioning.
Soon after this, the six elder Princesses heard the little baby, their nephew, begin to cry. When they went upstairs they were much surprised to find him all alone, and Bala nowhere to be seen. Then they questioned the servants, and when they heard of the Fakir and the little black dog, they guessed what had happened. They sent messengers in every direction seeking them, but neither the Fakir nor the dog were to be found. What could six poor women do? They gave up all hopes of ever seeing their kind husbands, and their sister, and her husband, again, and devoted themselves thenceforward to taking care of their little nephew.
Thus time went on, till Bala’s son was fourteen years old. Then, one day, his aunts told him the history of the family; and no sooner did he hear it, than he was seized with a great desire to go in search of his father and mother and uncles. His aunts, on learning his determination, were much alarmed and tried to dissuade him, saying, “We have lost our husbands, and our sister and her husband, and you are now our sole hope. If you go away, what shall we do?” But he replied, “I pray you not to be discouraged; I will return soon, and if it is possible bring my father and mother and uncles with me.” So he set out on his travels; but for some months he could learn nothing to help him in his search.
At last, after he had journeyed many hundreds of miles, and become almost hopeless of ever hearing anything further of his parents, he one day came to a country that
seemed full of stones, and rocks, and trees, and there he saw a large palace with a high tower. There was a little house belonging to the Mali or the gardener.
As he was looking about, the Mali’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 Raja’s son, and I come in search of my father, and my uncles, and my mother.”
Then the Mali’s wife said, “This country and this palace belong to a great enchanter; he is all powerful, and if any one displeases him, he can turn them into stones and trees. All the rocks and trees you see here were living people once, and the Magician turned them to what they now are. Some time ago a Raja’s son came here, and shortly afterwards came his six brothers, and they were all turned into stones and trees. These are not the only unfortunate one. 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.”
Then the little Prince thought, “These must be my parents and my uncles. I have found what I seek at last.” So he told his story to the Mali’s wife, and begged her to help him to remain in that place awhile and inquire further about the unhappy people she mentioned. She promised to befriend him, and advised that he should himself lest the Magician should see him, and turn him likewise into stone. To this the Prince agreed. So the Mali’s wife 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 playing about, and asked her who she was. She told him she was the Mali’s daughter, and the Magician said, “You are a pretty little girl, and tomorrow you shall take a present of flowers from me to the beautiful lady who lives in the tower.”
The young Prince was delighted at hearing this, and went immediately to inform the Mali’s wife. He decided that it would be more safe for him to retain his disguise, and trust to the chance of a favourable opportunity for establishing some communication with his mother, if it were indeed she.
Now it happened that at Bala’s marriage 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. Afterwards when he was older, his aunts had had it enlarged for him, so that he was still able to wear it. The Mali’s wife advised him to fasten the well-known treasure to one of the bouquets he presented to his mother. A strict watch was kept over the poor Princess, and though the supposed Mali’s daughter was permitted to take her flowers every day, the Magician or one of his slaves was always in the room at the time. At last one day, however, opportunity favoured him, and when no one was looking, the boy tied the ring to the bouquet of flowers, and threw it at Bala’s feet. It fell with a clang on the floor, and Bala, looking to see what made the strange sound, found the little ring tied to the flowers. She recognised the ring and, at once she believed the story her son told her of his long search. She told him that for twelve long years the Magician had kept her shut up in the tower because she refused to marry him, and she was so closely guarded that she saw no hope of release.
Now Bala’s son was a bright, clever boy, so he said, “Do not fear, dear mother; the first thing to do is to discover how far the Magician’s power extends, so that we may be able to liberate my father and uncles. He has imprisoned in the form of rocks and trees. You have spoken to him angrily for twelve long years; now rather speak kindly. Tell him you have given up all hopes of again seeing the husband you have so long mourned, and say you are willing to marry him. Then find out what is he secret to his power consists in, and whether he is immortal, or can be put to death.”
Bala took her son’s advice; and the next day sent for Punchkin, and spoke to him as had been suggested.
The Magician, greatly delighted, begged her to allow the wedding to take place as soon as possible.
But she told him that before she married him he must allow her a little more time. “And do tell me,” she said, “are you quite immortal? Can death never touch you? And are you too great an enchanter ever to feel human suffering?”
“Why do you ask?” said he.
“Because,” she replied, “if I am to be your wife, I should know all about you, in order, if any calamity threatens you, to overcome, or if possible to avert it.”
“It is true,” he added, “that I am not as others. Far, far away, hundreds of thousands of miles away, there lies a desolate country covered with thick jungle. In the middle of the jungle grows a circle of palm trees, and in the centre of the circle stand six bowls full of water, piled one above another: below the sixth bowl is a small cage which contains a little green parrot. My life depends on the life of the parrot . If the parrot is killed I must die. It is, however,” he added, “impossible that the parrot should sustain any injury, because, many thousand genii surround the palm trees. They kill all who approach the place.”
Bala told her son what Punchkin had said; but at the same time begged him to give up all idea of getting the parrot.
The Prince, however, replied, “Mother, unless I can get hold of that parrot, you, and my father, and uncles, cannot be liberated: be not afraid, I will shortly return. Do you, meantime, keep the Magician in good humour–still putting off your marriage with him on various pretexts; and before he finds out the cause of delay, I will be here." So saying, he went away.
Many, many weary miles did he travel, till at last he came to a thick jungle; and, being very tired, sat down under a tree and fell asleep. He was awakened by a soft rustling sound, and looking about him, saw a large serpent which was making its way to an eagle’s nest built in the tree under which he lay. In the nest were two young eagles. The Prince seeing the danger of the young birds, drew his sword, and killed the serpent. At the same moment a rushing sound was heard in the air, and the two old eagles, who had been out hunting for food for their young ones, returned. They quickly saw the dead serpent and the young Prince standing over it; and the old mother eagle said to him, “Dear boy, for many years all our young ones have been devoured by that cruel serpent; you have now saved the lives of our children; whenever you are in need, therefore, send to us and we will help you. As for these little eagles, take them, and let them be your servants.”
At this the Prince was very glad, and the two eaglets crossed their wings, on which he mounted; and they carried him far, far away over the thick jungles, until he came to
the place where grew the circle of palm trees. In the middle of which stood the six bowls full of water. It was the middle of the day, and the heat was very great. All round the trees were the genii fast asleep. There were in thousands, that it would have been quite impossible for any one to walk through their ranks to the place. Down swooped the strong-winged eaglets–down jumped the Prince; in an instant he had overthrown the six bowls full of water, and seized the little green parrot, which he rolled up in his cloak; while, as he mounted again into the air, all the genii below awoke, and finding their treasure gone, set up a wild and melancholy howl.
Away, away flew the little eagles, till they came to their home in the great tree; then the Prince said to the old eagles, “Take back your little ones; they have done me good service; if ever again I stand in need of help, I will not fail to come to you.” He then continued his journey on foot till he arrived once more at the Magician’s palace. He sat down at the door and began playing with the parrot. Punchkin saw him, and came to him quickly, and said, “My boy, where did you get that parrot? Give it to me, I pray you.”
But the Prince answered, “Oh no, I cannot give away my parrot, it is a great pet of mine; I have had it many years.”
Then the Magician said, “If it is an old favourite, I can understand your not caring to give it away; but come what will you sell it for?”
“Sir,” replied the Prince, “I will not sell my parrot.”
Then Punchkin got frightened, and said, “Anything, anything; name what price you will, and it shall be yours.” The Prince answered, “Let the seven Raja’s sons whom you turned into rocks and trees be instantly liberated.”
“It is done as you desire,” said the Magician, “only give me my parrot.” And with that, by a stroke of his wand, Bala’s husband and his brothers resumed their natural shapes. “Now, give me my parrot," repeated Punchkin.
“Not so fast,” rejoined the Prince; “You will restore to life all whom you have imprisoned.”
The Magician immediately waved his wand again. He cried, in an imploring voice, “Give me my parrot!” the whole garden became suddenly alive: where rocks, and stones, and trees had been before, stood Rajas, and Punts, and generals, and mighty men on prancing horses, and jewelled pages, and troops of armed attendants.
“Give me my parrot!” cried Punchkin. Then the boy took hold of the parrot, and tore off one of its wings; and as he did so the Magician’s right arm fell off.
Punchkin then stretched out his left arm, crying, “Give me my parrot!" The Prince pulled off the parrot’s second wing, and the Magician’s left arm tumbled off.
“Give me my parrot!” cried he, and fell on his knees. The Prince pulled off the parrot’s right leg, the Magician’s right leg fell off: the Prince pulled off the parrot’s left leg, down fell the Magician’s left.
Nothing remained of him save the limbless body and the head; but still he rolled his eyes, and cried, “Give me my parrot!” “Take your parrot, then,” cried the boy, and with that he twisted the bird’s neck, and threw it at the Magician; and, as he did so, Punchkin’s head twisted round, and, with a fearful groan, he died!
Then he let Bala out of the tower; and she, her son, and the seven Princes went to their own country. They lived very happily ever afterwards. And as to the rest of the world, every one went to his own house.
Note: This story was originally sourced from the book "[Indian Fairy Tales]" by [Joseph Jacobs]. This story has been editied by us and slightly modified for simplicity.