TonotesONCE there lived two wrestlers, who were both very very strong. The stronger of the two had a daughter called AjÍt; the other had no daughter at all. These wrestlers did not live in the same country, but their two villages were not far apart.

One day the wrestler that had no daughter heard of the wrestler that had a daughter, and he determined to go and find him and wrestle with him, to see who was the stronger. He went therefore to AjÍt’s father’s country, and when he arrived at his house, he knocked at the door and said, “Is any one here?” AjÍt answered, “Yes, I am here;” and she came out. “Where is the wrestler who lives in this house?” he asked. “My father,” answered AjÍt, “has taken three hundred carts to the jungle, and he is drawing them himself, as he could not get enough bullocks and horses to pull them along. He is gone to get wood.” This astonished the wrestler very much. “Your father must indeed be very strong,” he said.

Then he set off to the jungle, and in the jungle he found two dead elephants. He tied them to the two ends of a pole, took the pole on his shoulder, and returned to AjÍt’s house. There he knocked at the door, crying, “Is any one here?” “Yes, I am here,” said AjÍt. “Has your father come back?” asked the wrestler. “Not yet,” said AjÍt, who was busy sweeping the room. Now, her father had twelve elephants. Eleven were in the stables, but one was lying dead in the room AjÍt was sweeping; and as she swept, she swept the dead elephant without any trouble out of the door. This frightened the wrestler. “What a strong girl this is!” he said to himself. When AjÍt had swept all the dust out of the room, she came and gathered it and the dead elephant up, and threw dust and elephant away. The wrestler was more and more astonished.

He set off again to find AjÍt’s father, and met him pulling the three hundred carts along. At this he was still more alarmed, but he said to him, “Will you wrestle with me now?” “No,” said AjÍt’s father, “I won’t; for here there is no one to see us.” The other again begged him to wrestle at once, and at that moment an old woman bent with age came by. She was carrying bread to her son, who had taken his mother’s three or four thousand camels to browse.

The first wrestler called to her at once, “Come and see us wrestle.” “No,” said the old woman, “for I must take my son his dinner. He is very hungry.” “No, no; you must stay and see us wrestle,” cried both the wrestlers. “I cannot stay,” she said; “but do one of you stand on one of my hands, and the other on the other, and then you can wrestle as we go along.” “You carry us!” cried the men. “You are so old, you will never be able to carry us.” “Indeed I shall,” said the old woman. So they got up on her hands, and she rested her hands, with the wrestlers standing on them, on her shoulders; and her son’s flour-cakes she put on her head. Thus they went on their way, and the men wrestled as they went.

Now the old woman had told her son that if he did not do his work well, she would bring men to kill him; so he was dreadfully frightened when he saw his mother coming with the wrestlers. “Here is my mother coming to kill me,” he said: and he tied up the three or four thousand camels in his cloth, put them all on his head, and ran off with them as fast as he could. “Stop, stop!” cried his mother, when she saw him running away. But he only ran on still faster, and the old woman and the wrestlers ran after him.

Just then a kite was flying about, and the kite said to itself, “There must be some meat in that man’s cloth,” so it swept down and carried off the bundle of camels. The old woman’s son at this sat down and cried.

The wrestlers soon came up to him and said, “What are you crying for?” “Oh,” answered the boy, “my mother said that if I did not do my work, she would bring men to kill me. So, when I saw you coming with her, I tied all the camels up in my cloth, put them on my head, and ran off. A kite came down and carried them all away. That is why I am crying.” The wrestlers were much astonished at the boy’s strength and at the kite’s strength, and they all three set off in the direction in which the kite had flown.

Meanwhile the kite had flown on and on till it had reached another country, and the daughter of the RÁjÁ of this country was sitting on the roof of the palace, combing her long black hair. The princess looked up at the kite and the bundle, and said, “There must be meat in that bundle.” At that moment the kite let the bundle of camels fall, and it fell into the princess’s eye, and went deep into it; but her eye was so large that it did not hurt her much. “Oh, mother! mother!” she cried, “something has fallen into my eye! come and take it out.” Her mother rushed up, took the bundle of camels out of the princess’s eye, and shoved the bundle into her pocket.

The wrestlers and the old woman’s son now came up, having seen all that had happened. “Where is the bundle of camels?” said they, “and why do you cry?” they asked the princess. “Oh,” said her mother, “she is crying because something fell into her eye.” “It was the bundle of camels that fell into her eye, and the bundle is in your pocket,” said the old woman’s son to the RÁnÍ: and he put his hand into her pocket and pulled out the bundle. Then he and the wrestlers went back to AjÍt’s father’s house, and on the way they met his old mother, who went with them.

They invited a great many people to dinner, and AjÍt took a large quantity of flour and made it into flat cakes. Then she handed a cake to the wrestler who had come to see her father, and gave one to everybody else. “I can’t eat such a big cake as this,” said the wrestler. “Can’t you?” said AjÍt. “I can’t indeed,” he answered; “it is much too big.” “Then I will eat it myself,” said AjÍt, and taking it and all the other cakes she popped them into her mouth together. “That is not half enough for me,” she said. Then she offered him a can of water. “I cannot drink all that water,” he said. “Can’t you?” said AjÍt; “I can drink much more than that.” So she filled a large tub with water, lifted it to her mouth, and drank it all up at a draught.

The wrestler was very much astonished, and said to her, “Will you come to my house? I will give you a dinner.” “You will never be able to give me enough to eat and drink,” said AjÍt. “Yes, I shall,” he said. “You will not be able to give me enough, I am sure,” said AjÍt; “I cannot come.” “Do come,” he said. “Very well,” she answered, “I will come; but I know you will never be able to give me enough food.”

So they set off to his house. But when they had gone a little way, she said, “I must have my house with me.” “I cannot carry your house,” said the wrestler. “You must,” said AjÍt, “if you don’t, I cannot go with you.” “But I cannot carry your house,” said the wrestler. “Well, then,” said AjÍt, “I will carry it myself.” So she went back, dug up her house, and hoisted it on her head. This frightened the wrestler. “What a strong woman she must be!” he thought. “I will not wrestle with her father; for if I do, he will kill me.”

Then they all went on till they came to his house. When they got to it, AjÍt set her house down on the ground, and the wrestler went to get the dinner he had promised her. He brought quantities of things—all sorts of things—everything he could think of. Three kinds of flour, milk, dhall, rice, curries, and meat. Then he showed them all to AjÍt. “That is not enough for my dinner,” she said. “Why, that would be hardly enough for my mice!”

The wrestler wondered very much at this, and asked, “Are your mice so very big?” “Yes, they are very big,” she answered; “come and see.” So he took up all the food he had brought, and laid it on the floor of AjÍt’s house. Then at once all the mice came and ate it up every bit. The wrestler was greatly surprised; and AjÍt said, “Did I not tell you true? and did I not tell you, you would never be able to get me enough to eat?” “Come to the Nabha RÁjÁ’s country,” said the wrestler. “There you will surely get enough to eat.”

To this she agreed; so she, her father, and the wrestler went off to the Nabha RÁjÁ’s country. “I have brought a very strong girl,” said the wrestler to the Nabha RÁjÁ. “I will try her strength,” said the RÁjÁ. “Give me three elephants,” said AjÍt, “and I will carry them for you.” Then the RÁjÁ sent for three elephants, and said to her, “Now, carry these.” “Give me a rope,” said AjÍt. So they gave her a rope, and she tied the three elephants together, and flung them over her shoulder. “Now, where shall I throw them?” she said to the astonished RÁjÁ. “Shall I throw them on to the roof of your palace? or on to the ground? or away out there?” “I don’t know,” said the RÁjÁ. “Throw them upon my roof.” She threw the elephants up on to the roof with such force that it broke, and the elephants fell through into the palace.

“What have you done?” cried the RÁjÁ. “It is not my fault,” answered AjÍt. “You told me to throw the elephants on to your roof, and so I did.” Then the RÁjÁ sent for a great many men and bullocks and horses to pull the elephants out of his palace. But they could not the first time they pulled; then they tried a second time and succeeded, and they threw the elephants away.

Then AjÍt went home. “What shall I do with this dreadful woman?” said the Nabha RÁjÁ. “She is sure to kill me, and take all my country. I will try to kill her.” So he got his sepoys and guns into order, and went out to kill AjÍt. She was looking out of her window, and saw them coming. “Oh,” she said, “here is the Nabha RÁjÁ coming to kill me.” Then she went out of her house and asked him why he had come. “To kill you,” said the RÁjÁ. “Is that what you want to do?” she said; and with one hand she took up the RÁjÁ, his guns, and his sepoys, and put them all under her arm: and she carried them all off to the Nabha RÁjÁ’s country. There she put the RÁjÁ into prison, and made herself RÁnÍ of his kingdom. She was very much pleased at being RÁnÍ of the Nabha country; for it was a rich country, and there were quantities of fruits and of corn in it. And she lived happily for a long, long time.

Told by KarÍm, 13th January, 1877.