The Jogi’s Punishment

Once upon a time a jogi, a Hindu holy man, came to the ancient city of Rahmatabad. He looked very holy indeed. He made his home under a tree outside the city, and there he sat for days on end without eating or drinking, perfectly still except for his fingers, which kept turning the beads of his prayer string. News of such holiness soon spread, and every day the people of the city came crowding to see him, hoping for his blessing, eager to watch him pray or to hear him teach, if he felt like speaking.

Before long the rajah himself heard about the jogi and began to visit him often, to ask his advice and to beg him to pray that the rajah might be given a son. As the days went by, the rajah became so taken with the holy man that he wanted to keep him all to himself. So he built a little shrine nearby, with a room or two attached and a small courtyard with high walls all around. When it was ready, he begged the jogi to live there and to see nobody except the rajah, his queen and whatever pupils the jogi chose to pass on his teaching. The jogi agreed, and so he lived for some time on the king’s generosity, while his fame for goodness grew day by day.

Now, although the rajah of Rahmatabad had no son, he had a daughter, and as she grew up, she became the most beautiful girl anyone had ever seen. Long before, her father had promised her in marriage to the son of the neighbouring rajah of Dilaram, but the wedding had not yet taken place, and she lived the quiet, sheltered life expected of a princess.

Of course the princess had heard about the holy man, his miracles and his fasting, and she longed to see him and talk to him. But that was hard, for she was only allowed out into the palace gardens, and even there she was always closely guarded. At last, however, she found her chance, and one evening she slipped away alone to the hermit’s shrine.

Sadly, the hermit was not nearly as holy as he seemed. The moment he saw the princess, he wanted to make her his wife and began scheming to gain control of her. But the princess was clever as well as beautiful. As soon as she saw in the jogi’s eyes what he was thinking, she leapt to her feet, pulled her veil around her and ran from the place as fast as she could. The jogi tried to follow, but he could not keep up with her, and in his fury at being left behind, he threw a spear after her. It wounded her in the leg. The brave princess stopped for a second to pull out the spear, and then ran on until she was safely home. There she washed and bandaged the wound in secret and told nobody about the attack, because she feared her father would punish her for leaving the palace.

The next day, when the king went to visit the jogi, the holy man would not speak to him or even look at him.

“What is the matter?” asked the king. “Won’t you talk to me today?”

“I have nothing to say that you would want to hear,” said the jogi.

“Why?” asked the king. “You know that I value every word you say, whatever it may be.”

But the jogi kept his face turned away, and the more the king begged, the more silent and mysterious he became. At last, after a great deal of coaxing, he said, “Then I must tell you this. There is a creature in this city that will kill every single person here unless you destroy it.”

The king, who was easily frightened, turned pale. “What?” he gasped. “What is this dreadful thing? How can I find it and catch it? Only advise me and help me, and I will do whatever you say.”

“Ah,” said the jogi, “it is dreadful indeed. It looks like a beautiful girl, but really it is an evil spirit. Last evening it came to see me, and as I looked at it, its beauty turned to ugliness. Its teeth became terrible fangs, its eyes glowed like hot coals, and huge claws sprang from its slender fingers. If I were not who I am, it might have devoured me.”

The king was so frightened that he could hardly speak. At last he said, “How shall I know this terrible thing when I see it?”

“Look for a lovely girl with a spear wound in her leg,” said the jogi. “When you find her, lock her up safely and come and tell me, and I will tell you what to do next.”

The king hurried away and soon had all his soldiers searching the country for a girl with a spear wound in her leg. For two days the search went on, and then somehow it came out that the only person with such a wound was the princess herself.

Greatly upset, the king went to tell the jogi, and to insist that there must be some mistake. But of course the jogi was ready for this, and he had his answer prepared.

“She is not really your daughter,” he said solemnly. “Your daughter was stolen away at birth, and this is an evil spirit that has taken her shape. Do as you please, but if you don’t follow my advice, she will kill you all.”

He looked so solemn and so sure of himself that the king could no longer think clearly, and he declared that he would do whatever the jogi advised and believe whatever he said. So the jogi told him to send two carpenters to him in secret, and when they came, he set them to make a big chest, so cleverly fitted together that neither air nor water could get inside. The chest was made on the spot, and when it was ready, the jogi told the king to bring the princess at night. Between them, they shut the poor girl in the chest, nailed down the lid, carried it to the river and pushed it out into the current.

As soon as the jogi got back, he called two of his pupils. He pretended that it had been revealed to him in a vision that a chest containing something very precious would come floating down the river. He told them to go and watch for it at a certain place far downstream, and when the chest came slowly along, bobbing and turning in the current, they were to grab it and bring it to him quickly and secretly. For now he had decided to kill the princess himself. The pupils set off at once, puzzled by their strange errand and even more amazed at the holiness of a teacher to whom such secrets were revealed.

Now it happened that early the next morning, the brave young prince of Dilaram was out hunting along the riverbank with a great crowd of ministers, servants and huntsmen. As he rode, he saw a big chest floating down the river, bobbing and turning in the current. He rose in his saddle and gave an order, and half a dozen men plunged into the water and dragged the chest onto the bank, where everybody crowded around to see what was inside.

The prince was at least as curious as anyone, but he was a careful young man. As he got ready to open the chest himself, he ordered everyone except a few to stand back, and told those few to draw their swords, in case the chest held some wild beast, or a djinn, or a giant. When everyone was ready and waiting, the prince prised open the lid with his dagger and threw it back. And there, alive and breathing, lay the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

She was half suffocated from being shut up in the chest, but she soon came round. When she could sit up, the prince asked her who she was and how she came to be shut in a chest and set adrift on the river. Blushing and trembling at finding herself among so many strangers, she told him that she was the princess of Rahmatabad, and that her own father had put her in the chest. When he told her in turn that he was the prince of Dilaram, the two young people were utterly amazed to find that they, who had been promised to each other without ever meeting, should meet for the first time in such a strange way.

The prince was so charmed by her beauty and her gentle manners that he called his ministers and demanded to be married at once to the lovely lady who had won his heart. So they were married then and there on the riverbank, and went home to the prince’s palace. When the old rajah, the prince’s father, heard the story, he welcomed them, and the rest of the day was spent in feasting and celebration.

When the banquet was over, the bride told her husband that there was more to her story than he had yet given her the chance to tell. Then, hiding nothing, she told him everything that had happened since the evening she had crept out to visit the wicked jogi.

In the morning the prince called his chief minister. He told him to take a big monkey that was kept chained up at the palace, shut it in the chest in which the princess had been found, float the chest down the river, and watch what happened to it. So the monkey was caught and put in the chest, and some of the prince’s servants carried it down to the river and pushed it off into the water. Then they followed it secretly, a long way behind.

Meanwhile the jogi’s two pupils had watched and watched for the chest until they were tired of watching, and they were beginning to wonder whether their master had been right after all. Then, on the second day, they saw the great chest come floating down the river, slowly bobbing and turning in the current, and they were filled with joy, for here, they thought, was more proof of their master’s wonderful wisdom. With some trouble they caught the chest and carried it as quickly and secretly as they could to the jogi’s house.

The jogi had been growing very cross and impatient. As soon as they brought the chest in, he told them to put it down and wait outside while he opened the magic chest. “And even if you hear cries and noises, however frightening, you must not come in on any account,” he said, as he went to a cupboard to fetch the cord he meant to use to kill the princess.

The two pupils did as they were told. They went outside and shut all the doors tight. Soon they heard a great commotion inside, and the jogi’s voice shouting for help. But they did not dare go in, for had they not been told to stay outside whatever they heard? So they sat there, waiting and wondering, until at last everything went quiet. It stayed quiet for so long that they decided to go in and see if all was well.

The moment they opened the door to the courtyard, a huge monkey came leaping straight at the doorway, nearly knocking them over, and escaped past them into the open fields. Then they stepped into the room, and there, on the doorstep of his house, lay the jogi, killed by the furious monkey.

The story soon spread, as stories do, until it reached the princess and her husband. And when the princess knew that her enemy was dead, she made peace with her father.

Where this tale comes from

This tale comes from The Lilac Fairy Book, edited by Andrew Lang. In his preface, Lang says that all the stories in the book were translated or adapted by Mrs. Lang except a few, including “The Jogi’s Punishment”, which was “done by Major Campbell out of the Pushtoo language”, that is, Pashto. A note at the end of the tale reads “From Major Campbell, Feroshepore”.

Some details are told more gently here. In the original, the jogi plans to strangle the princess with a silken cord, and his pupils find his body torn to pieces by the monkey. Here the cord is mentioned only briefly, and the monkey simply kills him.

Read the original: Andrew Lang, The Lilac Fairy Book (Project Gutenberg #3454, The Jogi’s Punishment)

Reading guidance: for mature readers. The story includes a predatory authority figure, an attack on a princess, confinement and near suffocation, a murder plan, and a violent death.

A closer reading

The jogi turns the wound he inflicted into evidence against his victim. He can identify it precisely because he attacked her, yet the king treats that knowledge as supernatural insight. The same method works again with the chest: the pupils mistake advance knowledge of a plan their teacher arranged for a miraculous prediction.

Silence protects the offender at several stages. The princess fears punishment if she tells her father, and the pupils have been ordered to ignore cries from the room. Her husband eventually hears the whole account, but only after their wedding. The tale thus makes listening crucial even while its ending emphasizes revenge. The princess’s later peace with her father does not erase his choice to imprison and endanger her without hearing her side.

Try this with the story

Create two explanations for each supposed miracle: knowing about the spear wound and predicting the floating chest. One explanation should be what the followers believe; the other should use events the reader has seen. Identify whose testimony would have exposed the first deception sooner.

Talk about it

• Why did the princess run away from the jogi?
• How did the jogi turn the king against his own daughter?
• How did the prince use the chest to punish the jogi?
• What does this story warn us about people who only seem good?

More stories like this

• The Foolish Weaver — another Pashto tale from Andrew Lang’s fairy books
• The Demon with the Matted Hair — another Indian tale where a wicked figure meets his match
• The Ghost-Brahman — another Indian story with a holy man and a spirit