Wali Dad the Simple-Hearted

Once upon a time there lived a poor old man called Wali Dad Gunjay, which means Wali Dad the Bald. He had no family. He lived all alone in a little mud hut a long way from any town, and he earned his living by cutting grass in the jungle and selling it to feed horses. He earned only five halfpennies a day, but he was a simple old man who needed very little, so every day he saved one halfpenny and spent the rest on food and clothes.

He lived like this for many years. Then one night he decided to count the money he had hidden in a big clay pot under the floor of his hut. With a lot of effort he dragged the bag out and sat staring in amazement at the heap of coins that came tumbling out. What should he do with it all? It never occurred to him to spend it on himself. He was perfectly happy to live the rest of his days as he always had, and he did not want any more comfort or luxury than he already had. In the end he tipped all the money into an old sack, pushed it under his bed, rolled himself in his ragged blanket and went to sleep.

Early the next morning, he staggered off with his sack to a jeweller he knew in the town and bargained for a beautiful little gold bracelet. He wrapped it carefully in his cotton waistband and went to see a rich friend of his, a merchant who travelled through many countries with his camels and his goods. Luckily the merchant was at home. They sat and chatted for a while, and then Wali Dad asked him who was the most good and beautiful lady he had ever come across. The merchant said that the Princess of Khaistan was famous everywhere, both for her beauty and for her kindness and generosity.

“Then next time you go that way,” said Wali Dad, “give her this little bracelet, with the respectful compliments of someone who cares much more for goodness than for riches.”

He took the bracelet out of his waistband and handed it over. The merchant was astonished, but he said nothing and agreed to do as his friend asked.

Time went by, and in the course of his travels the merchant came to the capital of Khaistan. He went to the palace and sent the bracelet in to the princess in a little perfumed box, with Wali Dad’s message. The princess could not imagine who had sent it, but she asked the merchant to come back when he had finished his business in the city, and she would give him her reply. A few days later he returned and was given a present to take back: a whole camel-load of rich silks, as well as a gift of money for himself.

Months later the merchant arrived home and took the princess’s present to Wali Dad. The good old man was baffled to find a camel-load of silks piled at his door. What was he to do with such expensive things? After thinking hard, he asked the merchant whether he knew some young prince who might have a use for them.

“Of course!” cried the merchant, very amused. “From Delhi to Baghdad, and from Constantinople to Lucknow, I know them all, and there is none more worthy than the brave and wealthy young Prince of Nekabad.”

“Very well, then. Take the silks to him, with an old man’s blessing,” said Wali Dad, glad to be rid of them.

So the next time the merchant travelled that way, he took the silks to the Prince of Nekabad and begged him to accept them as a humble tribute. The prince was touched by the giver’s generosity. In return he sent twelve of the finest horses his country was famous for, and he gave the merchant a generous reward as well.

When the merchant got home, he set off for Wali Dad’s hut with the twelve horses. Wali Dad saw them coming in the distance. “What luck!” he said to himself. “A whole troop of horses! They’ll want lots of grass, and I’ll sell everything I have without carrying it to market.” He rushed off and cut grass as fast as he could. When he came back with as much as he could carry, he was dismayed to find that the horses were all for him. At first he could not think what to do with them. Then he had a brilliant idea. He gave two of the horses to the merchant and begged him to take the rest to the Princess of Khaistan, who was obviously the best person to own such beautiful animals.

The merchant went off laughing, but he did as his old friend asked. This time the princess sent for him and asked about the giver. The merchant was usually a very honest man, but he did not quite like to describe Wali Dad as he really was, an old man who earned five halfpennies a day and hardly had clothes to cover him. So he said that his friend had heard of her beauty and goodness and longed to lay the best he had at her feet.

The princess asked her father what she should do about someone who kept sending her presents. “Well,” said the king, “you can’t refuse them. The best thing is to send this unknown friend a present so magnificent that he won’t be able to send anything better, and will be too embarrassed to send anything at all!” And he ordered that for each of the ten horses, two mules loaded with silver should be sent back.

In a few hours, the merchant found himself in charge of a splendid caravan. He had to hire armed guards to protect it from robbers on the road, and he was very glad to get back to Wali Dad’s hut.

“Well, now,” cried Wali Dad, looking at all the treasure at his door, “now I can repay that kind prince for his wonderful horses! But you have had a lot of expense, my friend. Please keep six of the mules and their loads, and take the rest straight to Nekabad.”

The merchant felt well paid for his trouble, and he was curious to see how it would all turn out. So he set off for Nekabad with this new and princely gift.

This time the prince too was puzzled, and asked the merchant a great many questions. The merchant felt that his good name was at stake. He made up his mind not to carry the joke any further, but he could not help describing Wali Dad in such glowing terms that the old man would not have recognised himself. The prince decided, just like the King of Khaistan, to send back a truly royal gift that might stop the unknown giver sending anything more. So he put together a caravan of twenty splendid horses in gold-embroidered cloths, with fine leather saddles and silver bridles; twenty of the best camels, as fast as racehorses, that could trot all day without tiring; and twenty elephants with silver seats on their backs and silk coverings embroidered with pearls. The merchant had to hire a small army of men to look after them all, and they made a grand show as they travelled along.

When Wali Dad saw the cloud of dust and the glitter of the caravan in the distance, he said to himself, “My goodness, what a crowd! Elephants, too! Grass will sell well today!” And he hurried off to the jungle and cut grass as fast as he could. When he got back, he found the caravan at his door and the merchant waiting, a little nervously, to give him the news and congratulate him on his riches.

“Riches!” cried Wali Dad. “What does an old man like me, with one foot in the grave, want with riches? That beautiful young princess, now, she’s the one to enjoy all these fine things! Take two horses, two camels and two elephants for yourself, and give her the rest.”

The merchant objected. He was starting to find these journeys rather awkward, he said, and he was getting nervous. But in the end he agreed to go one last time, though he promised himself it really would be the last.

When the King of Khaistan saw the magnificent procession of men and animals entering his courtyard, he hurried down himself to ask about it. He was speechless when he heard that this too was a present for his daughter from the princely Wali Dad. He went straight to the princess. “I’ll tell you what this means, my dear,” he said. “This man wants to marry you! That’s what all these presents are about. There’s nothing for it but to go and visit him ourselves. He must be enormously rich, and since he is so devoted to you, you might do worse than marry him!”

The princess agreed. Orders went out for elephants and camels, grand tents and flags, litters for the ladies and horses for the men, for the king and the princess were going to visit the great and generous Prince Wali Dad. And the merchant, the king declared, would show them the way.

You can imagine how the poor merchant felt. He would gladly have run away, but as Wali Dad’s representative he was treated as an honoured guest and never had a moment alone to slip off. Day after day the great procession moved on, and every day the merchant felt sicker and more miserable. He lay awake almost every night, wondering what punishment the king would think up for him.

At last they were only a day’s march from Wali Dad’s little mud hut. A great camp was set up, and the merchant was sent ahead to tell Wali Dad that the King and Princess of Khaistan had arrived and wished to meet him. He found the poor old man eating his supper of onions and dry bread. When he told him what had happened, he did not have the heart to scold him. Wali Dad was overwhelmed with shame for himself, for his friend, and for the good name of the princess. He wept and pulled at his beard and groaned. Through his tears he begged the merchant to hold the visitors back for one day with any excuse he could think of, and to come back in the morning so that they could decide what to do.

When the merchant had gone, Wali Dad was so ashamed that he could not bear the thought of facing anyone. In the middle of the night, without asking anyone’s advice, he went off to a place where the river ran at the foot of high, rocky cliffs. He stood at the very edge of the dark drop. Far below, hidden in the black shadows, the water roared and boiled around the jagged rocks. The wind sighed and whispered through the gorge, and the bushes on the ledges seemed to dance and beckon like shadowy creatures. An owl hooted right in his face, and the old man threw himself back from the edge in terror, covered his face with his hands, and cried aloud.

After a while he noticed a soft light shining in front of him. Surely morning had not come already to show everyone his disgrace? He took his hands from his face and saw two lovely beings standing before him. He knew at once that they were not human. They were peris, fairy spirits from Paradise.

“Why are you crying, old man?” asked one, in a voice as clear and sweet as a nightingale’s.

“I am crying for shame,” he said.

“What are you doing here?” asked the other. And as they questioned him, he told them his whole story.

Then the first peri stepped forward and laid her hand on his shoulder, and Wali Dad felt something strange happening to him. His old cotton rags turned into fine linen and embroidered cloth. On his hard bare feet were warm, soft shoes, and on his head was a great jewelled turban. A heavy gold chain lay around his neck, and the bent old sickle he used for cutting grass had become a splendid sword with an ivory handle that gleamed like snow in the moonlight. As he stood there like a man in a dream, the other peri waved her hand and told him to turn around. And there in front of him stood a great open gateway. The peris led him, speechless, up an avenue of giant plane trees. At the end of it, on the very spot where his hut had stood, was a magnificent palace blazing with lights. Servants hurried to and fro on its wide verandas, and guards saluted him respectfully as he came along mossy paths and across lawns where fountains splashed and flowers scented the air.

“Do not be afraid,” said one of the peris. “Go into your house, and learn that God rewards the simple-hearted.” Then both of them vanished.

Wali Dad walked on, still sure that he must be dreaming, and soon he went to bed in a splendid room grander than anything he had ever imagined. When he woke at dawn, he found that the palace, his servants and his own fine clothes were all real. It was not a dream after all.

If he was astonished, the merchant was even more so. He had not slept a wink, he said, and at first light he had set out to find his friend. And what a search he had had! A great stretch of wild jungle had turned overnight into parks and gardens, and if some of Wali Dad’s new servants had not found him and brought him to the palace, he would have run away thinking that worry had driven him mad.

Wali Dad told him everything that had happened. On the merchant’s advice, he invited the King and Princess of Khaistan to be his guests, together with every last person in their camp, down to the humblest servant. For three days and nights there was a great feast. Every evening the king and his nobles ate from golden plates and drank from golden cups, and everyone else ate from silver plates and drank from silver cups, and each guest was asked to keep the plate and cup they had used, to remember the occasion. There had never been anything so splendid. As well as the great dinners, there was hunting and dancing and every kind of entertainment.

On the fourth day, the King of Khaistan took his host aside and asked whether it was true, as he suspected, that he wished to marry his daughter. Wali Dad thanked him warmly for the compliment, but said that he had never dreamed of such an honour and that he was far too old and plain for such a lovely lady. Instead he begged the king to stay until he could send for the Prince of Nekabad, an excellent, brave and honourable young man who would surely be delighted to try to win the princess’s hand. The king agreed. Wali Dad sent the merchant to Nekabad with attendants and such handsome presents that the prince came at once. He fell head over heels in love with the princess, and they were married at Wali Dad’s palace with even more celebrations.

Then the King of Khaistan and the Prince and Princess of Nekabad went home to their own countries. Wali Dad lived to a good old age, helping everyone who was in trouble, and even in his riches he kept the simple, generous heart he had when he was only Wali Dad the Bald, the grass-cutter.

About this telling

Andrew Lang printed this story in The Brown Fairy Book (1904), one of his twelve coloured fairy books. Lang’s preface names Major Campbell as the contributor of this tale and ‘The King Who Would Be Stronger than Fate.’ That identifies this printed version; it does not establish where the story was first told.

The peris appear here as fairy beings who rescue Wali Dad when shame has overwhelmed him. Their intervention belongs to the tale’s magic: the ending rewards his generosity, but it should not be taken as a promise that kind people will become wealthy.

Read the original: Andrew Lang, ed., The Brown Fairy Book (Project Gutenberg #3282)

Reading guidance: for older readers, or shared reading with an adult. Beneath the comic gift exchange is a scene of severe despair at a cliff edge, followed by rescue.

When a gift becomes an obligation

Wali Dad and the rulers are taking part in different exchanges. He gives things away because he has enough; the princess and prince send larger gifts partly to stop the exchange without losing face. The merchant makes the misunderstanding worse by concealing Wali Dad’s circumstances. His polite descriptions gradually create an imaginary prince whom the real grass-cutter feels unable to become.

Notice the repeated grass-cutting scenes. A magnificent caravan means profitable work to Wali Dad before it means personal wealth. His habits reveal his character more clearly than the merchant’s praise does. The palace changes his circumstances, while his wish to help other people stays constant.

Try drawing the route of the bracelet, silks, horses and silver. Beside each gift, write what the sender intends and what the recipient assumes. At which exchange could a candid message from the merchant have prevented the crisis?

Questions to ask

• Why didn’t Wali Dad keep any of the presents for himself?
• Why did each king and prince send back an even bigger gift?
• What do the peris mean when they say that God rewards the simple-hearted?

You may also like

• The King Who Would See Paradise — another tale from Major Campbell in Lang’s fairy books
• The King Who Would Be Stronger Than Fate — the other Indian tale credited to Major Campbell in Lang’s preface
• The Charmed Ring — another tale of a poor man, a princess and some magic