The King Who Was Fried

Long ago a king vowed never to eat bread or break his fast until he had given away a hundredweight of gold in charity. Every day, a quarter-hour before breakfast, King Karan’s servants came out with baskets of gold pieces for the crowds of poor who never failed to scramble for them. When the last coin was fought for, he sat down and enjoyed his meal as a man who has kept his word.

People thought the treasuries must soon empty and the king starve—yet months and years passed, and still the baskets came, and still he breakfasted fat and jolly in the banqueting hall. The secret was this: he had compact with a holy, very hungry faqir on the hill. Each morning Karan let himself be fried and eaten; the faqir gave a hundredweight of pure gold in return. An ordinary faqir would have ended the bargain at one meal—but this one, having eaten the king and picked the bones clean, set them together, said a charm, and hey presto! there was Karan fat and jolly again for tomorrow. Convenient for breakfast and breakfast-eater alike—yet not pleasant to be popped alive into boiling oil. Still, after a time Karan grew used to it: he climbed cheerfully, passed the time of day to be sure he was punctual, and stepped into his hot-oil bath. How he sizzled! When crisp and brown, the faqir ate him, picked the bones, sang the charm, then shook a dirty old ragged coat until bright gold tumbled from its pockets onto the floor. That was how Karan got his gold—and if you find it extraordinary, so do I.

On the great Mansarobar Lake, where wild swans live when they leave us and feed on seed pearls, famine came. Pearls grew so scarce that one pair flew out into the world and landed in King Bikramajit’s garden at Ujjayin. The gardener, delighted, threw grain; they would not touch it. He told his master. Bikramajit—who understood beasts and birds—asked why they ate nothing. “We eat neither grain nor fruit,” they said, “only fresh pearls that have never been pierced.” Kind-hearted, he sent for a basket and fed them daily with his own hand. One day a pierced pearl slipped in. The dainty birds decided his supply was running short and, despite entreaties, spread white wings for home, singing praise of Bikramajit as they flew.

Karan was watching his gold-baskets when the swans passed overhead singing “Glory to Bikramajit!” Who was this that even birds praised? He was fried daily for a hundredweight of gold, yet no swan sang his song! Jealous, he had a bird-catcher snare them with lime and hang the cage in the palace. Every bird-food was offered; they curved scornful necks: “Glory to Bikramajit—he gave us pearls!” Karan sent for pearls; still they would not eat. “Am I not as generous as he?” he cried. The swan’s wife answered, “Kings do not imprison the innocent or make war on women. If Bikramajit were here, he would at least let me go!” Not to be outdone, Karan freed her. She flew south and told Bikramajit her mate lay captive. The most generous of kings resolved to release him. Bidding her rejoin her husband, he put on servant’s garb under the name Bikru and journeyed north to take service carrying Karan’s gold baskets. He soon saw wealth had a secret and never rested until he found it—hiding close enough to watch Karan enter the faqir’s house, pop into oil, frizzle, come out crisp, be eaten, and walk down the mountain with his gold.

Next morning Bikru rose early, slashed himself all over with a carving-knife, mixed pepper, salt, spices, pounded pomegranate seeds and pea-flour into curry-stuff, and rubbed it into the cuts despite the smart. Ready for cooking, he climbed to the faqir’s house and popped into the pan. The faqir still slept, then woke to the sizzle: how uncommonly nice the king smelled! He could hardly wait until crisp and brown—then gobbled. Plain fried so long, a devilled king was a change. He picked the bones cleaner than ever and put the king together. Then, with tears in his eyes, he said, “How did you come to taste so nice? Ask anything you like in return.” Bikru explained the dressing and promised to devil himself every morning if he might keep the old coat: carrying a hundredweight downhill daily was tiresome; with the coat he could shake gold at the palace. The faqir agreed; off went Bikru with the coat.

Karan toiled up to find the fire out, the pan put away, the faqir holy but not hungry. “Who are you?” asked the short-sighted, drowsy saint. “King Karan, come to be fried!” “I’ve had breakfast—you tasted very nice when you were devilled.” “I never was!” “Then I ate somebody else,” nodded the faqir, soon snoring. Karan shook him in a rage. “Eat me too!” he shouted.

“I couldn’t,” said the faqir. “Not another morsel.”

“Then give me my gold! I am ready to do my part of the bargain.”

“Sorry,” said the faqir. “The other fellow went off with the coat.”

In despair Karan ordered the treasurer to send gold and ate in peace that day, and the next by ransacking private treasuries—though his heart was gloomy. The third day the treasurer cast himself down: no more gold in the domains. Karan went solemnly to bed without breakfast. Crowds waited hours for the palace doors and melted away calling it a shame. By dinner he was visibly thinner, yet a man of his word; when wily Bikru urged him to eat, saying no blame could fall, he shook his head and faced the wall. Then Bikru—Bikramajit—shook the faqir’s coat before him. “Take the money, friend,” he said, “and if you set those wild swans free, I will give you the coat into the bargain.” Karan freed them. As the pair flew toward Mansarobar they sang glory to generous Bikramajit. Then Karan hung his head. “The swans sing the truth,” he said to himself. “Bikramajit is the more generous king. I let myself be fried for gold and a breakfast, but he let himself be devilled just to set a bird free.”

About this story

This comic legend is from Flora Annie Steel’s Tales of the Punjab (1894). R. C. Temple notes that it is told of the hill temple on Pindi Point at Murree, and that King Karan stands for Karna, a great hero of the Mahabharata. His rival Bikramajit, whose palace in the tale is at Ujjain, is the Vikramaditya of many other Indian legends.

Temple explains that Mansarobar is Lake Manasarovar in the Kailash range, long a centre of Indian legend, and that the “swans” are hansa, fabled birds that live only on pearls. The frying and eating of the king are told as a joke, and he is always put back together whole.

Read the original: Flora Annie Steel, Tales of the Punjab, 1894 (Project Gutenberg #6145)

Reading guidance: for mature readers. Despite its comic tone and magical restoration, this tale describes repeated cannibalism, frying a living person and deliberate self-injury.

A closer reading

Karan gives enormous amounts away, yet imprisons the swans because they praise someone else. The contrast separates generosity’s public display from respect for a recipient’s freedom. Feeding the captive birds more costly food cannot repair the wrong that keeping them captive creates.

Bikramajit obtains the coat and then offers it back in exchange for release. His intervention ends Karan’s dependence on the daily ordeal while freeing the swans. The fantastical bodily sacrifice is the story’s extravagant way of comparing motives, not a requirement for generosity. Karan’s final admission matters because he finally accepts praise directed elsewhere instead of trying to force it toward himself.

Try this with the story

Compare the two kings in three scenes: distributing gold, responding to the swans’ wishes, and deciding what to do with the coat. Identify where each king seeks recognition and where someone else’s freedom takes priority. Use the objects and decisions for discussion, without acting out the bodily ordeals.

Talk about it

• Why was King Karan so upset that the swans sang about Bikramajit and not about him?
• What did Bikramajit do that showed he was more generous than Karan?
• Karan kept his promise even when he had no gold. Do you think that made him a good king? Why?

Related stories

• How Raja Rasalu Was Born — the start of another Punjabi hero cycle from the same collection
• Charity Alone Conquers — a South Indian tale about generosity winning out in the end
• A Lesson for Kings — an Indian tale about what makes a king truly good