The Magic Shoes and Staff

Far away in the Indian town of Chinchini, where the old gods were said to appear sometimes to people who called on them for help, there lived three brothers of noble birth, each married to a wife he loved. For years they wanted for nothing. Then the rains failed for week after week. The burning sun dried up the tanks and turned green fields into desert, and a terrible famine followed in which hundreds of people and animals died, the little children first.

The brothers, who had no children, grew frightened. “If we stay here we shall die,” they said to one another. “Let us go where there is plenty to eat. We won’t take our wives; they would only be a burden. Let them look after themselves.” And they left without even saying goodbye.

The deserted wives were sad and lonely at first, but soon a great joy came to them all: one of them gave birth to a baby boy, and his two aunts loved him almost as much as his mother did. Somehow they found enough food, for the baby grew strong and healthy. One night all three women had the same dream. The god Siva appeared and told them that he had seen how tenderly they cared for the child. They were to call him Putraka, and as a reward for their unselfishness they would find a hundred thousand gold pieces under his pillow every morning. One day, the god said, the boy would be a king.

The dream came true. Every morning the gold lay under Putraka’s pillow, and the women saved it for him, so that he grew up to be the richest man in the country. His only sorrow was that he had never seen his father. His mother told him about the famine and how his father and uncles had gone away and never come back. “When I am a man, I will find my father and bring him home,” Putraka often said.

He used his wealth to help others. Best of all, he dug canals that filled with water in the rainy season, to help protect the land against another famine like the one that had driven his father away. The land grew fruitful, everyone had enough, and the people, especially the poor, loved him. When the old king died, they chose Putraka to rule in his place.

As king, he made friends with traveling Brahmans. He gave them money and asked them to speak of him wherever they went and to look out for his father and uncles. If they found them, they were to say how much he longed to see them and promise them anything they wished, if only they would come home.

It happened just as he hoped. The three brothers, who were not so very far away, heard the Brahmans praising the young king, and when they learned his mother’s name, they guessed who he was. Putraka’s father had known, when he deserted his wife, that she was expecting a child, which made his leaving even more wicked. Now he thought only of how much he could get from a son who was a king. He wanted to hurry back alone, but his brothers meant to have their share too, so the three selfish old men set off together.

They were welcomed at the palace with great rejoicing. Not one of the wives reproached them, and Putraka was so overjoyed to have his father home that he gave him a beautiful house and a great deal of money. He was generous to his uncles as well, and felt there was nothing more he could wish for.

The wives soon wished their husbands had stayed away. The men were never satisfied; whatever they were given, they demanded more. Before long they grew jealous of Putraka. His father hated being his own son’s subject and decided to kill him and rule in his place, and after a while he drew his brothers into the plot. In a secret place they agreed to hire a murderer, first making him swear never to say who had paid him.

Putraka often went alone to pray in a beautiful temple near the palace. He would stay there a long time, praying for wisdom and strength, and for his father and mother, his aunts and uncles, and his people. The murderer was told to hide there, kill the king while he prayed, and bury the body deep in the forest where it would never be found. To make sure, he brought two other ruffians with him, promising them a share of the reward.

But the god who had watched over Putraka since his birth did not forget him. The young king was so lost in prayer that he never heard the men creep up. Their weapons were raised and glinting in the temple lamp-light when the temple’s heavenly guardian, who was always there though usually unseen, appeared and cast a spell on them, so that their arms froze in the very act of striking.

Putraka looked round and saw the men with the shadowy guardian threatening them, and he knew a messenger of the god had saved him. Then the guardian faded, and the spell slowly wore off. The men dropped their weapons, threw themselves down and begged for mercy. Putraka felt no anger, only thankfulness. He asked them sternly why they wanted to harm him, and the chief murderer told him who had sent them. The news that his own father wanted him dead was a terrible blow, but he kept control of himself. He forgave the men, since they were not the most to blame, made them promise never to tell who had hired them, gave them some money and sent them away.

Alone, he threw himself on the ground and wept bitterly. He had loved his father and uncles so much, and they wanted him dead. Was he to blame? Was a man who could be so mistaken fit to be king? Perhaps his country would be better off with someone else. “What shall I do? What shall I do?” he sobbed. His only comfort was the thought of his mother’s love, and even that was spoiled, because it was her husband who had wanted to kill him. At last he decided to go right away, as his father and uncles had done. With his mind made up he felt more cheerful, and at first light he walked off into the forest, lonely, but rather enjoying being his own master, which a king never really is.

He had not gone far when he came to a clearing where two strong men were wrestling. “What are you quarrelling about?” he called.

The men stopped, surprised. “We are fighting for three precious things our father left us,” said one.

“What things?” asked Putraka.

“A bowl, a stick and a pair of shoes. Whoever wins the fight gets them all.”

Putraka laughed, for they looked worthless. “I wouldn’t fight over such trifles,” he said.

“Trifles!” cried the man. “They are worth more than their weight in gold. The bowl is always full of food when you want it. Whatever you write on the ground with the stick comes true. And whoever wears the shoes can fly through the air as far as he likes.”

At once Putraka made up his mind to have them, without stopping to think how wrong it was. “It seems a pity to fight,” he said. “Why not run a race to that banyan tree, and let the winner take them? I will be the umpire.”

The simple brothers agreed, and the moment they were off, Putraka picked up the bowl and staff, put on the shoes and flew up into the sky. When the brothers came back, arguing over who had won, he and the treasures were gone. They stared up at the sky for a long time and went home furious with the stranger and ashamed of themselves.

Putraka flew on, delighted with his new power. Soon he saw below him a beautiful city of towers and gleaming minarets. “That is the place for me,” he thought. “I will find people there who will not try to kill me or cheat me, but will love me.” He chose a poor but cheerful-looking little house and landed at its door. A lonely old woman lived there, and when he gave her money and asked to lodge with her, she gladly agreed. They lived happily together for a long time, and she grew to love him like her own son.

Afraid that he would grow tired of living with nobody but her, she said to him one day, “My dear adopted son, you ought to have a wife, and I know the only one worthy of you: the princess Patala. She is so lovely that every man who sees her wants to carry her off, so she is kept in the top rooms of a palace as high as the tallest mountain.” Putraka was eager to see her at once, and gladder than ever that he had the shoes. That evening he set off with his bowl and staff. The old woman gave him directions and begged him to come back and tell her how he fared, and he promised he would. She watched until he was out of sight and went sadly indoors, wondering if she would see him again.

The moon was full when he reached the palace, and it shone into the princess’s great room, hung with priceless tapestries. Behind them were doors to the rooms where her attendants slept or kept watch, but nobody guarded the windows, for only a bird could reach them. Putraka landed on the ledge and saw Patala asleep on a golden bed. She was so lovely that he cried out in delight and woke her. Before she could scream, he made himself invisible with his staff, and she lay down, thinking she had dreamed. Then he spoke softly, saying he had flown from far away to see her, and begged her to let him show himself. “I will go away directly afterwards, if you wish,” he said.

His voice was so gentle, and the idea of a flying, invisible man so wonderful, that Patala agreed. When he appeared, looking so noble and handsome, she fell in love at first sight, just as he had. He told her all his adventures. She was glad he was a king, she said, but would have loved him whoever he was. At last she begged him to go before her attendants found him. “My father would never let me marry you unless you came as a king with a great train of followers,” she said, “and how can you, when you are a wandering exile?”

After that Putraka visited her every night, spending his days wherever he liked and eating from the magic bowl. Sadly, he forgot all about the kind old woman, who slowly gave up hope of seeing him, though he could easily have flown to cheer her. This selfishness soon brought him trouble, for he grew careless about making himself invisible, and one night a palace guard saw him. The king thought the man must have seen a big bird, but he ordered one of Patala’s ladies to watch each night from the next room, through a slit in the tapestry over the door.

The lady loved the princess and thought it cruel to shut her away for being beautiful. On her very first night, Putraka arrived so tired from a long, dreamy flight that he dropped onto a couch and fell asleep, and Patala, worn out from so many nights of talking, fell asleep too. The lady crept in and studied the young man. She saw how handsome and finely dressed he was, and took his fine turban as another sign of high rank. “This is a prince or king in disguise,” she thought. “I will not raise the alarm and have him killed and my dear mistress’s heart broken.” So she simply fastened a tiny brooch among the folds of his turban, where he would not notice it, so that he could be known later.

Near dawn Putraka woke with a start, surprised to find himself on the couch. Patala, terrified that her ladies would come in to dress her, begged him to fly away invisible at once, and he did. But he was still too tired to fly far, so he wandered about her father’s town.

The king sent for the watching lady. She tried not to betray Patala, but she hesitated so much that he threatened to have her head shaved and throw her into prison. So she told him of the handsome man asleep in the princess’s room, adding that Patala knew nothing of it, being asleep herself. The king raged and demanded to know what the man looked like. Then she told him about the brooch, hoping that if the king saw Putraka and knew Patala loved him, he might let them marry. The king was delighted. He promised her a great reward and sent hundreds of spies to look for a man with a brooch in his turban.

They soon found Putraka strolling in the market-place. He was so surprised that he had no time to use the staff or put on the shoes, and his captors only laughed when he said he was a king. They dragged him into a great hall where the king sat on his throne among his courtiers and soldiers. The tall windows stood open, so Putraka was not afraid. He stood calmly before the throne and looked the king in the face.

That made the king angrier still. He called Putraka every bad name he could think of and demanded how he dared go near his daughter. Putraka answered quietly that he loved Patala and wished to marry her; he was a king himself and could give her all she was used to. The king rose, stretched out his hand, and cried, “Let him be scourged and placed in close confinement!”

At once Putraka wrote on the ground with his staff a wish that no one could touch him, slipped on his shoes, and rose into the air while the whole court stood staring. Out through a window he flew, straight to Patala, who was pacing her room in terror for his life. She was overjoyed to see him, but begged him to fly home at once.

“I will not go without you,” he said. “Wrap yourself up warmly, for it is cold up in the air, and we will go together. Your cruel father shall never see you again.”

Patala wept at having to choose between her father and her lover, but in the end she agreed. Just as the searchers were heard coming, Putraka caught her up in his arms and flew away.

He did not go to his own land but to the Ganges, the great river honored in the tale as Mother Ganga. On its bank the magic bowl gave them a delicious meal, and as they ate, clever Patala said, “Why not build a new city in this lovely place? You could do it with your staff.”

“Of course I could,” laughed Putraka. “Why didn’t I think of that?” Soon a wonderful town rose up, like his home but bigger and finer. He wished it full of happy people, with temples and priests, markets, tanks and streams of pure water, soldiers to guard the gates, elephants to ride, and everything anyone could want.

They named the city Patali-Putra after themselves, were married there with the proper rites, and for many years ruled wisely over people who loved them and their children. Among those children’s attendants was the kind old woman. When Putraka told Patala the full tale of his life, she scolded him for neglecting someone he owed so much, and he was so ashamed that he flew off and brought the dear old lady to live with them, to her very great delight.

About this story

“The Magic Shoes and Staff” is the fourth story in Hindu Tales from the Sanskrit (1919), translated from Sanskrit by S. M. Mitra and adapted for young English readers by Mrs. Arthur Bell. Mrs. Bell’s note says the book mixes tales from India’s ancient classics with others passed down orally.

The story ends with a legendary account of the founding of Patali-Putra; the magic city’s creation is not historical evidence. A footnote explains that this was the city on the site of present-day Patna, already known by that name in the time of Alexander the Great. One of the questions printed after the tale asks which of Putraka’s three stolen treasures you would choose. The murder plot fails before anyone is hurt.

Read the original: S. M. Mitra and Mrs. Arthur Bell, Hindu Tales from the Sanskrit, 1919 (Project Gutenberg #11310)

Reading guidance: ages 9–12 with adult discussion. The opening mentions famine deaths, and later scenes include a family murder plot, threats of flogging and imprisonment, theft and an escape from a controlling parent.

A closer reading

Putraka’s early generosity makes food and security available to others, while his father and uncles treat family as a route to wealth. Yet the hero later takes property through exactly the trust he asks the quarrelling brothers to place in him as an umpire. His own betrayal does not excuse this theft, and the narrative explicitly calls the decision wrong.

Patala offers more than the reward of marriage. She recognizes that the staff can create a city and later challenges his neglect of the old woman. Both interventions turn magical power toward relationships he has overlooked. The ending repairs one debt by welcoming the host, but leaves the owners of the stolen objects uncompensated. A reader can value that partial repair without declaring every wrong settled.

Try this with the story

List four relationships: Putraka with his father, the quarrelling brothers, the old woman and Patala. For each, record a promise or expectation, an action that fulfills or breaks it, and whether the ending repairs the harm. Propose a repair for one debt the story leaves open.

Talk about it

• Putraka forgave the hired killers but left his father without a word. Why do you think he chose to go away?
• Putraka tricked the two brothers out of their treasures. Does the story treat that as right or wrong? What do you think?
• If you could have one of the three magic things, the bowl, the staff or the shoes, which would you choose, and why?

Related stories

• The Magic Pitcher — another tale from Mitra’s book about a magic vessel full of food
• Rapunzel — a girl shut away high in a tower is visited in secret by a prince
• The Royal Thief-Catcher — another story from Mitra’s Hindu Tales from the Sanskrit, set at a royal court