STORY OF WALI DÂD THE SIMPLE-HEARTED

Edition and rights: Original English text from Project Gutenberg ebook #31201, marked public domain in the USA. The literary text below is reproduced without AI rewriting.

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Once upon a time there lived a poor old man whose
name was Wali Dâd Gunjay, or Wali Dâd the Bald.
He had no relations, but lived all by himself in a little
mud hut some distance from any town, and made his
living by cutting grass in the jungle, and selling it as
fodder for horses. He only earned by this five halfpence
a day; but he was a simple old man, and needed so little
out of it, that he saved up one halfpenny daily, and spent
the rest upon such food and clothing as he required.

In this way he lived for many years until, one night,
he thought that he would count the money he had hidden
away in the great earthen pot under the floor of his hut.
So he set to work, and with much trouble he pulled the
bag out on to the floor, and sat gazing in astonishment
at the heap of coins which tumbled out of it. What
should he do with them all? he wondered. But he never
thought of spending the money on himself, because he
was content to pass the rest of his days as he had been
doing for ever so long, and he really had no desire for
any greater comfort or luxury.

At last he threw all the money into an old sack, which
he pushed under his bed, and then, rolled in his ragged
old blanket, he went off to sleep.

Early next morning he staggered off with his sack of
money to the shop of a jeweller, whom he knew in the
town, and bargained with him for a beautiful little gold
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bracelet. With this carefully wrapped up in his cotton
waistband he went to the house of a rich friend, who
was a travelling merchant, and used to wander about
with his camels and merchandise through many countries.
Wali Dâd was lucky enough to find him at home, so he
sat down, and after a little talk he asked the merchant
who was the most virtuous and beautiful lady he had ever
met with. The merchant replied that the princess of
Khaistân was renowned everywhere as well for the beauty
of her person as for the kindness and generosity of her
disposition.

‘Then,’ said Wali Dâd, ‘next time you go that way,
give her this little bracelet, with the respectful compliments
of one who admires virtue far more than he desires
wealth.’

With that he pulled the bracelet from his waistband,
and handed it to his friend. The merchant was naturally
much astonished, but said nothing, and made no objection
to carrying out his friend’s plan.

Time passed by, and at length the merchant arrived
in the course of his travels at the capital of Khaistân. As
soon as he had opportunity he presented himself at the
palace, and sent in the bracelet, neatly packed in a little
perfumed box provided by himself, giving at the same
time the message entrusted to him by Wali Dâd.

The princess could not think who could have bestowed
this present on her, but she bade her servant to tell the
merchant that if he would return, after he had finished
his business in the city, she would give him her reply.
In a few days, therefore, the merchant came back, and
received from the princess a return present in the shape
of a camel-load of rich silks, besides a present of money
for himself. With these he set out on his journey.

Some months later he got home again from his
journeyings, and proceeded to take Wali Dâd the
princess’s present. Great was the perplexity of the good
man to find a camel-load of silks tumbled at his door!
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What was he to do with these costly things? But,
presently, after much thought, he begged the merchant
to consider whether he did not know of some young
prince to whom such treasures might be useful.

‘Of course,’ cried the merchant, greatly amused;
‘from Delhi to Baghdad, and from Constantinople to
Lucknow, I know them all; and there lives none
worthier than the gallant and wealthy young prince of
Nekabad.’

‘Very well, then, take the silks to him, with the blessing
of an old man,’ said Wali Dâd, much relieved to be
rid of them.

So, the next time that the merchant journeyed that
way he carried the silks with him, and in due course
arrived at Nekabad, and sought an audience of the prince.
When he was shown into his presence he produced the
beautiful gift of silks that Wali Dâd had sent, and begged
the young man to accept them as a humble tribute to his
worth and greatness. The prince was much touched by
the generosity of the giver, and ordered, as a return
present, twelve of the finest breed of horses for which his
country was famous to be delivered over to the merchant,
to whom also, before he took his leave, he gave a
munificent reward for his services.

As before, the merchant at last arrived at home;
and next day, he set out for Wali Dâd’s house with the
twelve horses. When the old man saw them coming in
the distance he said to himself: ‘Here’s luck! a troop of
horses coming! They are sure to want quantities of grass,
and I shall sell all I have without having to drag it to
market.’ Thereupon he rushed off and cut grass as fast
as he could. When he got back, with as much grass as
he could possibly carry, he was greatly discomfited to find
that the horses were all for himself. At first he could not
think what to do with them, but, after a little, a brilliant
idea struck him! He gave two to the merchant, and
begged him to take the rest to the princess of Khaistân,
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who was clearly the fittest person to possess such beautiful
animals.

The merchant departed, laughing. But, true to his
old friend’s request, he took the horses with him on his
next journey, and eventually presented them safely to the
princess. This time the princess sent for the merchant,
and questioned him about the giver. Now, the merchant
was usually a most honest man, but he did not quite like
to describe Wali Dâd in his true light as an old man
whose income was five halfpence a day, and who had
hardly clothes to cover him. So he told her that his
friend had heard stories of her beauty and goodness, and
had longed to lay the best he had at her feet. The
princess then took her father into her confidence, and
begged him to advise her what courtesy she might return
to one who persisted in making her such presents.

‘Well,’ said the king, ‘you cannot refuse them; so
the best thing you can do is to send this unknown friend
at once a present so magnificent that he is not likely to
be able to send you anything better, and so will be ashamed
to send anything at all!’ Then he ordered that, in place
of each of the ten horses, two mules laden with silver
should be returned by her.

Thus, in a few hours, the merchant found himself in
charge of a splendid caravan; and he had to hire a number
of armed men to defend it on the road against the robbers,
and he was glad indeed to find himself back again in
Wali Dâd’s hut.

‘Well, now,’ cried Wali Dâd, as he viewed all the
wealth laid at his door, ‘I can well repay that kind prince
for his magnificent present of horses; but to be sure you
have been put to great expense! Still, if you will accept
six mules and their loads, and will take the rest straight
to Nekabad, I shall thank you heartily.’

The merchant felt handsomely repaid for his trouble,
and wondered greatly how the matter would turn out. So
he made no difficulty about it; and as soon as he could get
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things ready, he set out for Nekabad with this new and
princely gift.

This time the prince, too, was embarrassed, and questioned
the merchant closely. The merchant felt that his
credit was at stake, and whilst inwardly determining that
he would not carry the joke any further, could not help
describing Wali Dâd in such glowing terms that the old
man would never have known himself had he heard them.
The prince, like the king of Khaistân, determined that he
would send in return a gift that would be truly royal, and
which would perhaps prevent the unknown giver sending
him anything more. So he made up a caravan of twenty
splendid horses caparisoned in gold embroidered cloths,
with fine morocco saddles and silver bridles and stirrups,
also twenty camels of the best breed, which had the
speed of race-horses, and could swing along at a trot all
day without getting tired; and, lastly, twenty elephants,
with magnificent silver howdahs and coverings of silk
embroidered with pearls. To take care of these animals
the merchant hired a little army of men; and the troop
made a great show as they travelled along.

When Wali Dâd from a distance saw the cloud of dust
which the caravan made, and the glitter of its appointments,
he said to himself: ‘By Allah! here’s a grand
crowd coming! Elephants, too! Grass will be selling
well to-day!’ And with that he hurried off to the jungle
and cut grass as fast as he could. As soon as he got
back he found the caravan had stopped at his door, and
the merchant was waiting, a little anxiously, to tell him
the news and to congratulate him upon his riches.

‘Riches!’ cried Wali Dâd, ‘what has an old man like
me with one foot in the grave to do with riches? That
beautiful young princess, now! She’d be the one to enjoy
all these fine things! Do you take for yourself two
horses, two camels, and two elephants, with all their
trappings, and present the rest to her.’

The merchant at first objected to these remarks, and
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pointed out to Wali Dâd that he was beginning to feel
these embassies a little awkward. Of course he was himself
richly repaid, so far as expenses went; but still he did
not like going so often, and he was getting nervous. At
length, however, he consented to go once more, but he
promised himself never to embark on another such enterprise.

So, after a few days’ rest, the caravan started off once
more for Khaistân.

The moment the king of Khaistân saw the gorgeous
train of men and beasts entering his palace courtyard, he
was so amazed that he hurried down in person to inquire
about it, and became dumb when he heard that these also
were a present from the princely Wali Dâd, and were for
the princess, his daughter. He went hastily off to her
apartments, and said to her: ‘I tell you what it is, my
dear, this man wants to marry you; that is the meaning
of all these presents! There is nothing for it but that we
go and pay him a visit in person. He must be a man of
immense wealth, and as he is so devoted to you, perhaps
you might do worse than marry him!’

The princess agreed with all that her father said, and
orders were issued for vast numbers of elephants and
camels, and gorgeous tents and flags, and litters for the
ladies, and horses for the men, to be prepared without
delay, as the king and princess were going to pay a visit
to the great and munificent prince Wali Dâd. The
merchant, the king declared, was to guide the party.

The feelings of the poor merchant in this sore dilemma
can hardly be imagined. Willingly would he have run
away; but he was treated with so much hospitality as
Wali Dâd’s representative, that he hardly got an instant’s
real peace, and never any opportunity of slipping away.
In fact, after a few days, despair possessed him to such a
degree that he made up his mind that all that happened
was fate, and that escape was impossible; but he hoped
devoutly some turn of fortune would reveal to him a
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way out of the difficulties which he had, with the best
intentions, drawn upon himself.

On the seventh day they all started, amidst thunderous
salutes from the ramparts of the city, and much dust, and
cheering, and blaring of trumpets.

Day after day they moved on, and every day the poor
merchant felt more ill and miserable. He wondered
what kind of death the king would invent for him, and
went through almost as much torture, as he lay awake
nearly the whole of every night thinking over the situation,
as he would have suffered if the king’s executioners
were already setting to work upon his neck.

At last they were only one day’s march from Wali
Dâd’s little mud home. Here a great encampment
was made, and the merchant was sent on to tell Wali
Dâd that the King and Princess of Khaistân had arrived
and were seeking an interview. When the merchant
arrived he found the poor old man eating his evening
meal of onions and dry bread, and when he told him of
all that had happened he had not the heart to proceed to
load him with the reproaches which rose to his tongue.
For Wali Dâd was overwhelmed with grief and shame for
himself, for his friend, and for the name and honour of
the princess; and he wept and plucked at his beard, and
groaned most piteously. With tears he begged the
merchant to detain them for one day by any kind of
excuse he could think of, and to come in the morning to
discuss what they should do.

As soon as the merchant was gone Wali Dâd made up
his mind that there was only one honourable way out
of the shame and distress that he had created by his
foolishness, and that was—to kill himself. So, without
stopping to ask any one’s advice, he went off in the
middle of the night to a place where the river wound
along at the base of steep rocky cliffs of great height,
and determined to throw himself down and put an end
to his life. When he got to the place he drew back a
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few paces, took a little run, and at the very edge of that
dreadful black gulf he stopped short! He could not
do it!

From below, unseen in the blackness of the deep night
shadows, the water roared and boiled round the jagged
rocks—he could picture the place as he knew it, only ten
times more pitiless and forbidding in the visionless darkness;
the wind soughed through the gorge with fearsome
sighs, and rustlings and whisperings, and the bushes and
grasses that grew in the ledges of the cliffs seemed to him
like living creatures that danced and beckoned, shadowy
and indistinct. An owl laughed ‘Hoo! hoo!’ almost in
his face, as he peered over the edge of the gulf, and the
old man threw himself back in a perspiration of horror.
He was afraid! He drew back shuddering, and covering
his face in his hands he wept aloud.

Presently he was aware of a gentle radiance that
shed itself before him. Surely morning was not already
coming to hasten and reveal his disgrace! He took his
hands from before his face, and saw before him two lovely
beings whom his instinct told him were not mortal, but
were Peris from Paradise.

‘Why do you weep, old man?’ said one, in a voice as
clear and musical as that of the bulbul.

‘I weep for shame,’ replied he.

‘What do you here?’ questioned the other.

‘I came here to die,’ said Wali Dâd. And as they
questioned him, he confessed all his story.

Then the first stepped forward and laid a hand upon
his shoulder, and Wali Dâd began to feel that something
strange—what, he did not know—was happening to him.
His old cotton rags of clothes were changed to beautiful
linen and embroidered cloth; on his hard, bare feet were
warm, soft shoes, and on his head a great jewelled turban.
Round his neck there lay a heavy golden chain, and the
little old bent sickle, which he cut grass with, and which
hung in his waistband, had turned into a gorgeous

[Pg 325]
scimetar, whose ivory hilt gleamed in the pale light like
snow in moonlight. As he stood wondering, like a man
in a dream, the other peri waved her hand and bade him
turn and see; and, lo! before him a noble gateway stood
open. And up an avenue of giant plane trees the peris led
him, dumb with amazement. At the end of the avenue,
on the very spot where his hut had stood, a gorgeous
palace appeared, ablaze with myriads of lights. Its
great porticoes and verandahs were occupied by hurrying
servants, and guards paced to and fro and saluted him
respectfully as he drew near, along mossy walks and
through sweeping grassy lawns where fountains were
playing and flowers scented the air. Wali Dâd stood
stunned and helpless.

‘Fear not,’ said one of the peris; ‘go to your house,
and learn that God rewards the simple-hearted.’

With these words they both disappeared and left him.
He walked on, thinking still that he must be dreaming.
Very soon he retired to rest in a splendid room, far
grander than anything he had ever dreamed of.

When morning dawned he woke, and found that the
palace, and himself, and his servants were all real, and
that he was not dreaming after all!

If he was dumbfounded, the merchant, who was
ushered into his presence soon after sunrise, was much
more so. He told Wali Dâd that he had not slept all
night, and by the first streak of daylight had started to
seek out his friend. And what a search he had had! A
great stretch of wild jungle country had, in the night, been
changed into parks and gardens; and if it had not been
for some of Wali Dâd’s new servants, who found him and
brought him to the palace, he would have fled away
under the impression that his trouble had sent him crazy,
and that all he saw was only imagination.

Then Wali Dâd told the merchant all that had
happened. By his advice he sent an invitation to the
king and princess of Khaistân to come and be his guests,
[Pg 326]
together with all their retinue and servants, down to the
very humblest in the camp.

For three nights and days a great feast was held in
honour of the royal guests. Every evening the king and
his nobles were served on golden plates and from golden
cups; and the smaller people on silver plates and from
silver cups; and each evening each guest was requested
to keep the plates and cups that they had used as a
remembrance of the occasion. Never had anything so
splendid been seen. Besides the great dinners, there
were sports and hunting, and dances, and amusements of
all sorts.

On the fourth day the king of Khaistân took his host
aside, and asked him whether it was true, as he had
suspected, that he wished to marry his daughter. But
Wali Dâd, after thanking him very much for the compliment,
said that he had never dreamed of so great an
honour, and that he was far too old and ugly for so fair a
lady; but he begged the king to stay with him until he
could send for the Prince of Nekabad, who was a most
excellent, brave, and honourable young man, and would
surely be delighted to try to win the hand of the beautiful
princess.

To this the king agreed, and Wali Dâd sent the
merchant to Nekabad, with a number of attendants, and
with such handsome presents that the prince came at
once, fell head over ears in love with the princess, and
married her at Wali Dâd’s palace amidst a fresh outburst
of rejoicings.

And now the King of Khaistân and the Prince and
Princess of Nekabad, each went back to their own country;
and Wali Dâd lived to a good old age, befriending all
who were in trouble, and preserving, in his prosperity,
the simple-hearted and generous nature that he had when
he was only Wali Dâd Gunjay, the grass cutter.

[Told the author by an Indian.]

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