In a land where mountains kissed the clouds, and melting sun bathed the emerald plains, ruled a King as kind as he was just. The lands flourished under his rule: protected by his strength, fostered by his generosity, and nurtured by his wisdom. He was beloved by his people and respected by his allies; the king had every reason to take pride.
And yet, despite his successes as a ruler, a spot of dread festered deep within his heart. The King had borne twin sons, near identical in their appearance, though different as night and day. Where the first was cautious and disciplined, the second was wild and impulsive. Where the first shied from confrontation, the second faced danger with an unrivaled fearless spirit. Where the first sought safety in conformity, the second always thirsted for more.
Though the king loved both his sons, as unsuitable as they may be for his throne, the ferocious nature of his second often clashed with his own. As noble and handsome as the rising sun, the prince was equally as rash and mischievous, with a passion that fueled his disagreements with the King.
These spats grew and tensions festered until one morning the second son woke to discover his shoes, once neatly placed, were turned upside-down. The ominous sign confirmed his own fears: his father had cast him out. Afraid and confused, the prince sought out his best friend for help, the son of the chief minister and often his partner in mischief. In doing so, he left his door open, and servants who caught sight of the overturned shoes spread the tales like wildfire. Everyone knew of the dishonour of the second son.
He prince and his friend devised a plan: they would journey beyond their homeland and seek glory among the broader horizons beyond the mountains.
Yet to embark on a journey, one requires supplies. When the prince asked for food, servants scurried away as if in a rush; when the prince asked for his fine horse, the soldiers turned up their noses; and when the prince asked for his soft clothes, the doors of his home were shut in his face.
Abandoned yet not alone, the prince and his friend gathered as many supplies as they coung scavenge from the minister’s home and forgotten leftovers, before embarking on their adventure, with the King watching from his palace.
“A kingdom destined for destitute,” he admonished sorrowfully, watching his son venture past the impossibly tall mountains, and out of the emerald plains. The King no longer had to ponder which of his children would ascend the throne, nor would he face such vehement opposition with the absence of his second son, and yet, he mourned for both the fate of his Kingdom and the loss of his child.
The prince and his friend wandered for days, through oceans of sand and seas of high grass, sleeping amongst the branches of jungle trees to escape the monsters of the night. As the days came and went, they slowly ran out of food just as the path they followed grew denser with vegetation, until it was lost entirely. The two asked for help of a village they came across, only to be turned away. Lost and hungry, the weary men were startled by the presence of a billowing smoke amongst the trees of the jungle.
Eager for food and in need of shelter, the two urged forward to find a small, dilapidated hut, hidden deep within the trees and brushwood. From this hut emerged an ancient Faqir, skin creased with age and back bent with time, yet eminanting an unmistakeable aura.
“Who goes there?” He called out, sounding stern and welcoming all at once.
The prince and his friend stepped out of the jungle’s shade and into the light cast by the glowing campfire.
“I am the exiled son of the King,” The prince spoke simply, well aware that they might yet be turned away, “and here is my friend. We are in dire need of help.”
The Faqir looked at them thoughtfully.
We shall be turned away, the prince thought mournfully. No man should aid a dishonoured prince.
Instead, the Faqir sat the two beside his fire, and asked to hear their story. The prince explained their plight, asking for any spare food and guidance to the nearest kingdom.
“Son, let me see what I can do for you,” he spoke, producing a whistle from his robes. Blowing into the sound echoed amidst the trees, and not a moment later began the thunderous shaking of the world. The soil beneath their feet vibrated and the friend looked worridly from the Faqir’s whistle to their surroundings, sure this would be their end, until large monkeys swung from the trees. The animals surrounded the camp, which would have appeared intimidating, with eyes glinting in intelligence, however the Faqir seemed to hve them entranced.
With a simple command, the monkeys departed, retuning shortly there after with bundles of food gathered from a nearby village.
The grateful prince and his friend feasted with the Faqir, their thanks falling from their lips like a waterfall as they ate their fill after days without food.
Once done with their meal, the two stood to reach their horses and continue their near hopeless journey, only to be stopped.
“Wait!” Cried the Faqir, “You mustn’t go without protection.” Once more the Faqir called upon the monkeys, who swung front he treetops and lept to the ground, shaking the world as they stampeded towards their master. The Faqir told the monkeys to guide the travelers to the nearest kingdom, yet warned them not to pass beyond their boundary.
Escorted by the monkeys, the prince and his friend were led to the edge of a bustling Kingdom, which lay just on the horizon. The monkeys abruptly stopped, and watched as the two men continued forward. Soon after, the animals broke out in a fight and dispersed amidst the damp jungle, as the two travelers ventured until they researched their destination.
Upon their arrival they requested an audience with the King, and told him their story. The King, quite amused by their tale, graciously offered the exiled prince and his mischievous friend places within the court.
Years later, the second son found himself yearning once against for his home. The familiar comfort of his mothers kiss and his brother’s smile and his father’s voice beckoned him, just as his curiosity as to the state of his Kingdom. As such, the prince and his friend bid farewell to the King who so generously accepted them years ago, and journeyed home.
Now venturing backwards, everything appeared differently. The villagers offered them supplies and kind words as they passed, now following along a far clearer path than that which led them there in the first place.
The travelers, though eager to be home, fully expected to soon face the rath of the king, and yet instead found that upon hearing their story, the King welcomed the two back into his favour. With the return and growth of his second son, the King quickly realised he now had an heir who may be what he desired for his kingdom: just and brave and sensible. The second prince was swiftly named heir, and eventually made into King, as his friend was given a highranking position within the courts.
The once exiled prince turned King sought to thank the Faqir and return the favour.
Venturing deep into the jungles with his friend by his side, the now-King and now-noble friend journeyed to the Faqir, in hopes of convincing the man to accompany them back to the palace. Though hesitant, the two managed to persuade the Faqir, and offered him all earthly possession he might desire. A grand room within the royal palace, with the richest foods and most precious jewels; Persian carpets and smooth silks; the King wished to bathe the Faqir in luxuries so that he may live out his few remaining years with want of nothing. And yet, the Faqir found all the luxuries afforded to him distastefu, and despite the King’s hopes, soon returned to his home amongst the jungle and monkeys.
Soon after, the King learned the Faqir was dead, and once more refused to spare him anything; with a funeral so grand, and a shrine erected in his memory, paid visit yearly by the King and his friend.
Source: Oral Tradition from the Indus.
Retold by: Ayla Siddiqui
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