Lakshmi and the Clever Washerwoman
Key ideas: Hindu, Divali, Lakshmi, wealth and poverty
Once upon a time, a king and queen lived in a beautiful palace.
The Queen was rather spoiled and vain. Every Divali, she would ask her husband
for the most expensive presents. Each year, the King gave her whatever she asked
for, however difficult it was for hlm to get it.
One particular year, the Queen had asked for a seven-string neck-lace of
large pearls.
The King sent a thousand divers to the far corners of the earth searching for
those pearls. Just before Divali, the divers returned. They had, at great peril
to their own lives, found just the right oysters and, from them, pulled out only
those rare pearls that were large and perfect.
The grateful King thanked the divers profusely and gave them large sums of money
for their labours. He sent the pearls to the royal jeweller to be strung and on
Divali morning he was able to present his wife with the gift she desired.
The Queen was jubilant. She put on the necklace and immediately ran to the
mirror to admire herself. She turned her head this way and that, convinced that
she was, indeed, the most beautiful creature in the whole world.
It was the Queen's custom to go to the river every morning to bathe, accompanied
by a bevy of handmaidens. On this particular morning when she got to the river
bank, she undressed and, just as she was poised to dive into the water, she
remembered that she was still wearing her seven-string necklace of pearls.
So she stopped and took it off, laying it on top of her clothes. 'Watch my
necklace,' she called, as she dived off a rock.
The handmaidens watched the necklace carefully, but something happened which
even they were unprepared for. A crow flew down from a nearby tree, picked up
the necklace and flew away with it. The handmaidens screamed and shouted but it
was no use. The crow had flown out of their sight.
When the Queen found out what had happened she cried with frustration and anger.
She went back to the palace and, still sobbing, told the King of her
misadventure. The King tried to console her, saying that he would get her a
prettier necklace but the Queen pouted and said that she would not be happy
until her seven-string necklace was found.
So the King summoned his drummers and heralds. He ordered them to go to every
town and village in the kingdom, telling the people that a reward would be
offered to anyone who found the Queen's necklace.
Meanwhile, the crow had flown from the manicured palace grounds to one of the lowliest slum areas. Here he dropped the necklace on the doorstep of a poor washerwoman's hut.
The washerwoman did not live alone. She shared the hut with her constant
companion, an old, toothless crone, called Poverty. The two were not
particularly fond of each other but they had been together ever since the
washerwoman could remember and had become quite used to each other's ways.
As it happened, the two occupants of the hut were away when the crow flew by.
The washerwoman was collecting dirty laundry and Poverty, as usual, was
accompanying her. On their way home, they passed the village market where they
stopped to hear the King's drummers and the proclamation about the Queen's
necklace. Poverty began to cackle, 'Oh the ways of royalty! What will they lose
next? Why do they bother us common people with their antics!' But the
washerwoman was thinking other thoughts. She had never owned any jewellery and
wondered how she would look in a seven-string necklace.
When they got home and the washerwoman put her bundles down, the first thing she
noticed was the pearl necklace lying on her doorstep. She picked it up and was
about to put it on when a thought occurred to her. 'I have an errand to run,'
she told Poverty, 'I will be back in a minute.' So saying, she rushed off with
the necklace and headed straight for the King's palace.
The guards tried to stop her but when she told them what she was carrying, they
escorted her directly to the King.
The King was very happy to get his wife's necklace back. He praised the
washerwoman for her honesty and then, picking up a large purse containing the
reward money, he said, 'Here, take this for your pains. It should keep you well
fed and well clothed for the rest of your days.'
To his surprise, the King found himself being refused. The washerwoman seemed to
have something else in mind. She said, 'I am a poor, humble washerwoman, Your
Majesty. I do not want the money which you are so kindly offering me. There is
one favour, however, that I hope you will grant me. Today is Divali. I want you
to decree that no one, not even you, will light any oil lamps in his home. Today
I want all houses to be dark. All except mine. I want mine to be the only
lighted house in the entire kingdom.'
The King, grateful that he had got off so lightly, agreed. He sent out his drummers and heralds with the decree as he had promised. He ordered his palace servants to take down all the oil lamps and to put them into storage for the following year.
The washerwoman rushed home, buying as many oil lamps along the way as she
could afford. She arranged these carefully outside her hut and waited.
Night fell. The washerwoman lit all her lamps and looked around. The rest of the
kingdom to the north, south, east and west, lay in total darkness.
Lakshmi had, of course, left the heavens and was ready to perform her yearly
duty of going from house to house, blessing with prosperity all those that were
well lit. This year, something was wrong. There were no lights to be seen
anywhere. Poor Lakshmi stumbled along in the darkness, from one house to
another, but nowhere could she see the slightest trace of a welcoming glimmer.
Suddenly she spotted a glow of bright lights far away in the distance. She began
running towards it.
It was the middle of the night when a very exhausted Lakshmi got to the
washerwoman's hut. She began pounding on the door, crying, 'Let me in, let me
in!'
This was the moment that the washerwoman had been waiting for. She called out to
Lakshmi, saying, 'I will let you in only on the condition that you stay with me
for seven generations.' Just then, the washerwoman looked behind her and saw
Poverty trying to creep out through the back door. She rushed to the door and
locked it. Poverty began to shout, 'Let me out, let me out I' You know there
isn't room in this hut for both Lakshmi and me.'
So the washerwoman said, 'All right, I will let you go but only on the condition
that you do not return for seven generations.' Poverty said, 'Yes, yes, I will
do as you ask. Just let me out of this place. I cannot stand the sight of
Lakshmi.' At that the washerwoman opened the back door and Poverty rushed out.
Then she hurried to the front door where Lakshmi was pounding desperately and
crying, 'Let me in, let me in.'
'Only on the condition that you stay with me for seven generations,' the
washerwoman repeated.
'Yes, yes,' said Lakshmi, 'I will do anything you ask, only let me in.'
And so the poor washerwoman let Lakshmi into her home and it was blessed with
wealth and prosperity for seven generations.
Copyright Ó 1985 Madhur Jaffrey, Seasons of Splendour. Reproduced by permission of the author c/o Rogers, Coleridge and White Ltd., 20, Powis Mews, London W11 1JN.
Majjhima-nikaya