edited by
D. L. Ashliman
folktales of Aarne-Thompson type 1351
edited by
D. L. Ashliman
© 2000
Once upon a time a poor farmer and his wife, having finished their day's labor and eaten their frugal supper, were sitting by the fire, when a dispute arose between them as to who should shut the door, which had been blown open by a gust of wind.
"Wife, shut the door!" said the man.
"Husband, shut it yourself!" said the woman.
"I will not shut it, and you shall not shut it," said the husband; "but let the one who speaks the first word shut it."
This proposal pleased the wife exceedingly, and so the old couple, well satisfied, retired in silence to bed.
In the middle of the night they heard a noise, and, peering out, they perceived that a wild dog had entered the room, and that he was busy devouring their little store of food. Not a word, however, would either of these silly people utter, and the dog, having sniffed at everything, and having eaten as much as he wanted, went out of the house.
The next morning the woman took some grain to the house of a neighbor in order to have it ground into flour.
In her absence the barber entered, and said to the husband, "How is it you are sitting here all alone?"
The farmer answered never a word. The barber then shaved his head, but still he did not speak; then he shaved off half his beard and half his mustache, but even then the man refrained from uttering a syllable. Then the barber covered him all over with a hideous coating of lampblack, but the stolid farmer remained as dumb as a mute. "The man is bewitched!" cried the barber, and he hastily quitted the house.
He had hardly gone when the wife returned from the mill. She, seeing her husband in such a ghastly plight, began to tremble, and exclaimed, "Ah! wretch, what have you been doing?"
"You spoke the first word," said the farmer, "so begone, woman, and shut the door."
Certain opium eaters, while walking about, found a sequin. They said, "Let us go to a cook and buy food and eat." So they went and entered a cook shop and said, "Master, give us a sequin's worth of food."
The cook prepared all manner of foods and loaded a porter with them. And the opium eaters took him outside the city where there was a tomb [enclosed by four walls]. They entered and sat down, and the porter laid down the food and went away. The opium eaters fell to eating the food, when suddenly one of them said, "The gate is open. Stop, one of you shut the gate, or else other opium eaters will come and trouble us. Even though they be friends, they will do the deeds of foes."
One of them replied, "You go and shut the gate," and they began to quarrel.
At length one said, "Come, let us agree that the one of us who first speaks shall get up and fasten the gate."
They all agreed to this proposal, and left the food and sat quite still. Suddenly a she-dog and fifteen dogs came in. Not one of the opium eaters stirred or spoke, for if one spoke, he would need to get up and shut the gate, so no one spoke. The dogs made an end of the food and ate it all up. Just then another dog leaped in from outside, but no food remained. Now one of the opium eaters had partaken of everything, and some of the food remained about his mouth and on his beard. The newly arrived dog licked up the morsels of food that were on the opium eater's breast, and while he was licking up those about his mouth he took his lip for a piece of meat and bit it. The opium eater did not stir, for he said to himself, "They will ask me to shut the gate," but to ease his soul, he muttered "Ouch!" inwardly cursing the dog.
When the other opium eaters heard him make that noise they said, "Get up and fasten the gate!"
He replied, "Caution follows loss. Now that the food is gone and my lip is wounded, what need is there to shut the gate? Through negligence and folly you have let these very good things slip from your hands."
And crying "Woe! Alas!" they went each in a different direction.
There was once a husband and a wife. The former said one day to the latter, "Let us have some fritters."
She replied, "What shall we do for a frying pan?"
"Go and borrow one from my godmother."
"You go and get it; it is only a little way off."
"Go yourself; I will take it back when we are done with it."
So she went and borrowed the pan, and when she returned said to her husband, "Here is the pan, but you must carry it back."
So they cooked the fritters, and after they had eaten, the husband said, "Now let us go to work, both of us, and the one who speaks first shall carry back the pan." Then she began to spin and he to draw his thread -- for he was a shoemaker -- and all the time keeping silence, except that when he drew his thread he said, "Leulerò, leulerò;" and she, spinning, answered, "Piciciì, picicì, piciciò." And they said not another word.
Now there happened to pass that way a soldier with a horse, and he asked a woman if there was any shoemaker in that street. She said that there was one nearby, and took him to the house. The soldier asked the shoemaker to come and cut his horse a girth, and he would pay him. The latter made no answer but, "Leulerò, leulerò;" and his wife, "Piciciì, picicì, piciciò."
Then the soldier said, "Come and cut my horse a girth, or I will cut your head off!" The shoemaker only answered, "Leulerò, leulerò;" and his wife, "Piciciì, picicì, piciciò."
Then the soldier began to grow angry, and seized his sword and said to the shoemaker, "Either come and cut my horse a girth, or I will cut your head off!" But to no purpose. The shoemaker did not wish to be the first one to speak, and only replied, "Leulerò, leulerò;" and his wife, "Piciciì, picicì, piciciò."
Then the soldier got mad in good earnest, seized the shoemaker's head, and was going to cut it off. When his wife saw that, she cried out, "Ah! don't, for mercy's sake!"
"Good!" exclaimed her husband. "Now you go and carry the pan back to my godmother, and I will go and cut the horse's girth." And so he did, and won the wager.
Once upon a time there were a man and a woman. One evening they did not know what to eat. Finally the man spoke, "Wife, let us eat porridge."
"No," said the woman, "for then tomorrow I would have to wash out the porridge pot, and I won't do that."
"I won't do it either," said the man, and they fell to quarreling who would have to wash out the porridge pot. Finally they agreed that the first one of them to speak would have to wash it out.
They ate their porridge and went to bed. The next morning neither of them said anything about getting up. Seven o'clock came, eight o'clock, even twelve o'clock, and the two still lay in bed. The neighbors were concerned and said to one another, "Robbers must have come and murdered both of them."
So they broke down the door, entered the bedroom, and told them to get up, but received no answer. Then one of the neighbors said, "Wait, let's fetch the priest so they can say their confessions."
The priest came, but they refused to say their confessions, remaining as still as mice. The priest went home, and the two remained lying there until evening, and neither said a word. Then the priest returned and asked, "Have they said anything yet?"
"No," replied the neighbors.
"Then stay here and care for them!" said the priest.
"Yes, and who is going to pay us for it?" asked the neighbors.
The priest answered, "You'll be paid. There is a good coat hanging on the wall over there. Take it and sell it, and then you'll have your money."
With that the woman cried out with anger, "What? You want to take my coat? Take your own things, but leave other people's things to them."
"Aha," said the man. "Now go and wash out the porridge pot!" And so the woman had to wash out the porridge pot.
There was a farm house situated a long way from anywhere, about five or six miles from the nearest house. At this farm they had a terrible lot of fruit trees, and damson time had come round again, and they were short of a brass pan for jamming with. The old farmer says one day, "Eh, lad, I want you to go down to old Jack Sowerby's and get their brass pan."
The lad says, "Nay, hang it. I'm not going five miles for a thing like that. No, not I."
So he went to his wife and said, "Hey, Libby! Slip down to Mother Sowerby's and ask her for the brass pan. Tell her we're going to jam."
"No damn way!" she says. "I'm not going, if jamming never gets done!"
And he says, "You stupid old beggars, you. What's with you and the lad? It looks damn like I shall have to go myself." So he started off for it after they'd milked that night.
After all the jamming had gotten done it was time for the pan to go back again. But the question was, who was going to take it? So they held a conference that night, and it was going to fall on the old farmer to take it back again himself. So he says to them all that night, "I'll tell you what I'll do. Which one of us speaks after now this very minute has to take the pan back," he says. "I'm damn sure it'll not be me!"
Then silence began. The family went to bed, nobody saying anything. Next morning they all got up. Still their tongues were quiet. All went like that till drinking time [a second breakfast at midmorning]. Then there was a loud rattle on the door. Nobody answered it. So this here chap walked in. He was great big tramp, a bad looking sort of chap he was.
He says, "Good morning. Grand morning." Still silence, so he grabbed a large piece of pastry and had a pint of tea. All was still silent, so he crammed his belly as full as he could get it. He had a peep in one of the drawers, spotted a ten-bob note and pocketed it. Still silence amongst the others. So he walks up to the old woman. "By gum!" he says. "You're a smart looking woman. Do you mind if I give you a kiss?" Still silence, so he gave her one.
The he walks up to the daughter, and he says, "By gum! You're as good looking as your mother. Do you mind if I give you one?" He was a little bit capped that nothing was said after all he'd done. So he gave her a kiss.
Then he turned to the old lad. "Na, come on. It's your turn now!"
The old farmer said, "No, damn it. I'll take the pan back!"
Once upon a time an old man lived with his wife. One day, after he had held a service in memory of his ancestors, one of their neighbours sent them a present of some food. He sent them cooked rice and vegetables, but only one cake. They were unwilling to divide it, and so they agreed that the first to speak should forfeit the cake. So they left it on the table, and sat gazing at it in silence.
Just then a thief broke into the house, and when he saw the old man and his wife sitting there in silence he concluded that they must be blind and deaf. So he calmly helped himself to everything he could find, and then began a violent assault on the old woman. But her husband just sat and watched in silence. At last his wife could stand it no longer. She shouted at him, "You heartless old man! You sit there quietly while this fellow beats me!"
Then the old man said, "The cake is mine," and coolly popped it into his mouth.
In a certain village there lived a poor beggar and his wife. The man used to go out every morning with a clean vessel in his hand, return home with rice enough for the day's meal, and thus they lived on in extreme poverty.
One day a poor Mádhava Brahmin invited the pair to a feast, and among Mádhavas muffins (tôsai) are always a part of the good things on festive occasions. So during the feast the beggar and his wife had their fill of muffins. They were so pleased with them, that the woman was extremely anxious to prepare some muffins in her own house, and began to save a little rice every day from what her husband brought her for the purpose.
When enough had been thus collected she begged a poor neighbor's wife to give her a little black pulse, which the latter -- praised be her charity -- readily did. The faces of the beggar and his wife literally glowed with joy that day, for were they not to taste the long-desired muffins for a second time?
The woman soon turned the rice she had been saving, and the black pulse she had obtained form her neighbor into a paste, and mixing it well with a little salt, green chilies, coriander seed, and curds, set it in a pan on the fire. And with her mouth watering all the while, prepared five muffins. By the time her husband had returned from his collection of alms, she was just turning out of the pan the fifth muffin. And when she placed the whole five muffins before him, his mouth, too, began to water.
He kept two for himself and two he place before his wife. But what was to be done with the fifth? He did not understand the way out of this difficulty. That half and half made one, and that each could take two and a half muffins was a question too hard for him to solve. The beloved muffins must not be torn in pieces. So he said to his wife that either he or she must take the remaining one. But how were they to decide which should be the lucky one?
Proposed the husband, "Let us both shut our eyes and stretch ourselves as if in sleep, each on a verandah on either side of the kitchen. Whoever opens an eye and speaks first gets only two muffins, and the other gets three."
So great was the desire of each to get the three muffins, that they both abided by the agreement, and the woman, though her mouth watered for the muffins, resolved to go through the ordeal. She placed the five cakes in a pan and covered it over with another pan. She then carefully bolted the door inside, and asking her husband to go into the east verandah, she lay down in the west one. Sleep she had none, and with closed eyes kept guard over her husband, for if he spoke first, he would have only two muffins, and the other three would come to her share. Equally watchful was her husband over her.
Thus passed one whole day -- two -- three! The house was never opened. No beggar came to receive the morning dole. The whole village began to inquire after the missing beggar. What had become of him? What had become of his wife?
"See whether his house is locked on the outside and whether he has left us to go to some other village," spoke the gray-heads.
So the village watchman came and tried to push the door open, but it would not open.
"Surely," said they, "it is locked on the inside! Some great calamity must have happened. Perhaps thieves have entered the house, and after plundering their property, murdered the inmates."
"But what property is a beggar likely to have?" thought the village assembly, and not liking to waste time in idle speculations, they sent two watchmen to climb the roof and open the latch from the inside.
Meanwhile the whole village -- men, women, and children -- stood outside the beggar's house to see what had taken place inside. The watchmen jumped into the house, and to their horror found the beggar and his wife stretched on opposite verandahs like two corpses. They opened the door, and the whole village rushed in. They too saw the beggar and his wife lying so still that they thought them to be dead. And though the beggar pair had heard everything that passed around them, neither would open an eye or speak, for whoever did it first would get only two muffins!
At the public expense of the village, two green litters of bamboo and coconut leaves were prepared on which to remove the unfortunate pair to the cremation ground.
"How loving they must have been to have died together like this!" said some gray-beards of the village.
In time the cremation ground was reached, and village watchmen had collected a score of dried cow-dung cakes and a bundle of firewood from each house for the funeral pyre. From these charitable contributions two pyres had been prepared, one for the man and one for the woman. The pyre was then lighted, and when the fire approached his leg, the man thought it time to give up the ordeal and to be satisfied with only two muffins.
So while the villagers were still continuing the funeral rites, they suddenly heard a voice, "I shall be satisfied with two muffins!"
Immediately another voice replied from the woman's pyre, "I have gained the day. Let me have the three!"
The villagers were amazed and ran away. One bold man alone stood face to face with the supposed dead husband and wife. He was a bold man, indeed, for when a dead man or a man supposed to have died comes to life, village people consider him to be a ghost. However, this bold villager questioned the beggars until he came to know their story. He then went after the runaways and related to them the whole story of the five muffins, to their great amazement.
But what was to be done to the people who had thus voluntarily faced death out of love for muffins?
Persons who had ascended the green litter and slept on the funeral pyre could never come back to the village! If they did the whole village would perish. So the elders built a small hut in a deserted meadow outside the village and made the beggar and his wife live there.
Ever after that memorable day, our hero and his wife were called the muffin beggar and the muffin beggar's wife, and many old ladies and young children from the village used to bring them muffins in the morning and evening, out of pity for them, for had they not loved muffins so much that they underwent death in life?
Revised October 7, 2000.