In ancient times, in the holy city of Wangshe Cheng, there was a Brahman, a son of a high official, a man named Mulian. He was an original follower and disciple of Siddhartha Gautama, the Buddha, and he was renowned for his ability to detect and to communicate with those now in the other realm. Accordingly, he was regarded as the foremost sensitive, medium or spiritualist among all of the Buddha's disciples.
Mulian had for many years "gone out"; that is to say, he had renounced the world, undergone the meditations and exercises required of ascetics, and traveled as a holy man, preaching the doctrine of the Buddha, returning periodically to receive instructions from the Buddha but always on the road far from home.
Now one day the Buddha happened to lecture on the Four Objects of Gratitude, the first precept being filial piety. Mulian attended this lecture and was so moved by the Buddha's words that he desired to return home to see his mother once again.
The day came when he finally arrived back in his hometown but only to discover his mother had already died. How he had planned to dote on her, to see to her every needs--and now she was gone! And how regretful he now was!
Mulian then called upon his abilities as a medium to reach his mother now in the other world, to see her in her new existence.
To his shock, he discovered his mother had sunk to the hell of hungry ghosts and was now undergoing great torment there.
He could see her and was within reach of her. Mulian looked closely at his mother. Besides her stomach's being enlarged extended like a great drum, her neck itself was as thin as a needle.
He cried great tears and held out his rice bowl containing leftover rice to her. Before she could even eat one grain, though, the rice before his eyes turned into a mass of flames. Such is the torment hungry ghosts endure--drifting, with their stomachs extended due to starvation and their threadlike throats connecting their heads to their bodies, they are unable to eat a morsel of anything, for all offered to them turns to fire.
There was nothing Mulian could further do at that moment. He was, however, resolved to save his mother from this horrible existence.
He sought out the Buddha.
"Venerable Lord," he said, addressing the Buddha, "my mother is experiencing unbelievable suffering! Please let her be released through your mercy!"
"Mulian," replied the Buddha, "your mother's sins in her past life were too great. There is nothing no individual, you included, can do. However, there is hope of salvation through the power of the Sangha. Only with that power can your mother be saved.
"So, Mulian," continued the Buddha, "on the fifteenth day of the seventh month, make an offering of one hundred different meals for the community of monks. Doing so, you will not only save your mother but all the other hungry ghosts gathered as well from the torments of hell. Seven past generations of parents, grandparents and ancestors will be blessed by your gesture, and your offerings will earn great merit."
Mulian followed the Buddha's instructions, preparing a hundred dishes of food on the fifteenth day of the seventh month for the community of monks, including those from far and near. The monks, in turn, commenced praying, entered into meditation, and then received the offerings.
Thus was Mulian's mother saved from hell.
This was the origin of what is called Pudu, "the ferrying of souls."
The Chinese Pudu, the Feast of Souls, is known as Yulanpen, or Ullambana. The tradition started in China when Emperor Wu of Liang (464-549 A.D.) entered a temple and inaugurated the Feast based on Indian traditions. He too provided a feast of many foods, each in a bowl, allowing seven generations of souls to leave behind the existence of hungry ghost in hell.
Sadly, today in Taiwan the tradition has lost its original mission in providing donations and relief and venerating ancestors. Instead, it has regressed to that of being a mere raucous and wasteful festival.
Notes
from Fojiao gushiji (An anthology of Buddhist stories); Taiwan Fojiao Bianji Weiyuanhui, ed.; Taipei: Fojiao Chubanshe, 1986; pp. 90-92.
The very last paragraph contains the editorial sentiments of the original Chinese text.
Mulian is the sinicized form of Maudgalyayana. Wangshe Cheng is the historical ancient city of Rajagrha, Rajgir, or Rajagaha, located in Bihar, Northeast India. The Four Objects of Gratitude are family (filial piety), all sentient beings, one's homeland, and the Triratna, or the Three Jewels of Buddhism (the Buddha; the Sangha, or Buddhist monastic community; and the Dharma, or the Law). The non-Chinese term Yulanpen is the Chinese transliteration of the Sanskrit Ullambana, which means "hanging upside" or "[im]pending," perhaps reflective of the continual fate of hungry ghosts.
The story is very important historically. Now with the Buddha's own lecturing on filial piety and his encouragement of Mulian's mission to rescue his mother, Buddhism in China began to take a different course from that of Indian Buddhism. Chinese Buddhism, with the Buddha's apparent blessings, began emphasizing the ancient, pre-Buddhist Chinese concern with filial piety. The supposed abandonment of earthly ties with which Indian Buddhism has been popularly associated was now played down. Most important, perhaps, are the Buddha's words to Mulian regarding the need for a unified response to relieving the sad souls in hell, that one cannot go about providing such relief alone. His words, in effect, inaugurated the codified approach of making large offerings to aid those in hell. In his masterful book on Yulanpen (The Ghost Festival in Medieval China; Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1988), Stephen Teiser points out that a growing number of scholars now discount the above stereotype of Indian Buddhism of being overly unconcerned with existing familial ties. He also writes that one scholar, Iwamoto Yutaka, suggests the origin of Ullambana might lie, not with the above circa sixth-century myth, but with the Greek myth of Dionysus's descent into the underworld to rescue his mother, Semele (23-24). Among most people in medieval China and probably among most Chinese in our time, Ullambana has long coalesced with the likewise ancient Taoist Zhongyuan so that today people tend not to differentiate between Buddhist and Taoist feasts for the dead (Teiser, 41).
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Merry Christmas & Happy New Year!
To all my readers and their loved ones, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
Fred Lobb
Fred Lobb
Friday, November 19, 2010
Stories of Filial Children -- Series Four
(1) Shaokang (Xia Dynasty)
Shaokang was the sixth monarch of the legendary Xia Dynasty (c. 2070-c. 1600 B.C.) and lived from from 2118 until 2058 B.C.
(2) Gu Yanwu (Ming & Qing Dynasties)
At the tail end of the Ming Dynasty and the beginning of the Qing, there lived a man in Kunshan County, Jiangsu, named Gu Yanwu (1613-1682 A.D.), the second oldest of five boys. At the age of two, he was adopted by the widow of his father's younger brother. He remained devoted and filial to his adopted mother all her life.
When the Ming fell to the Qing (1644), his adopted mother took her life. In her final testament, she wrote, "Though I am a woman, I am still a recipient of the nation's grace and prefer to die with my nation, the Ming, than live without it. I will not live as a subject of foreign rulers and thus betray the Ming. Thus, I prefer to sink into the darkness of the underworld."
This message left a deep impact on Yanwu, one which he was to remember to the end of his days.
After the establishment of the Manchu Qing dynasty, he became a great scholar respected by many, both Ming loyalists and many among the Qing authorities. On more than one occasion, Qing agents approached him with blandishments and veiled threats in attempts to enlist him in the Qing cause. Each time with great bravery and ignoring the risks, he rebuffed these servants of the Qing.
That is how he lived up until his death--mindful of his adopted mother's dying words, filial and patriotic to the end.
Notes
from Sanshiliuxiao, p. 76 (See 4/17/09 for full citation.)
This is story #33 in the Wu Yanhuan edition.
(3) Ding Chunliang (Qing Dynasty)
Ding Chunliang (1813-1873) was born in Jinjiang, Fujian Province. When he was thirteen, he followed his father over to Taiwan, where in Lugang, his father set up a grocery store. There, he worked for his father diligently.
Not long after, however, his father had a stroke. He became blind and unable to move half of his body. Walking without assistance became impossible. Chunliang took over the management of the store and then, at night, he would help his father out of bed and outside to sit with him whenever there were evening opera performances.
The years passed but the elder Ding's condition did not improve. His appetite decreased; furthermore, Chunliang needed to continue helping him dispose of bodily wastes. He did so without complaint, even when his father often soiled his bed and blankets.
It came to the point where Chunliang spent each available moment by his father's bedside, sleeping on the floor, and always alert to the slightest sound or request his father might make. When such a sound or request was made, Chunliang would immediately get up and meet his father's every need.
This went on for more than ten years. Not once did Chunliang demonstrate any anger, annoyance or impatience.
When a fire in the vegetable garden threatened the house, Chunliang picked up his father and headed for the front door. The fire had already spread, with flames and smoke on both sides of Chunliang and his father. Chunliang stood in the doorway, holding his father in his arms, protecting his father from the fire. Fortunately, the fire was put out in time before either was killed.
When Chunliang was thirty one, his father passed away. Chunliang then observed the proper rites for his father.
Chunliang's long devotion to his father was not lost upon the local city fathers. A memorial stele detailing his acts of filial piety was erected. After Chunliang's own death, his named was inscribed in the shrine dedicated to filial youths.
Notes
from Sanshiliuxiao, p. 82 (See 4/17/09 for full citation.)
This is story #36 in the Wu Yanhuan edition.
Shaokang was the sixth monarch of the legendary Xia Dynasty (c. 2070-c. 1600 B.C.) and lived from from 2118 until 2058 B.C.
It was when his mother was pregnant with Shaokang that the emperor, Shaokang's father, was assassinated. Shaokang was thus born in exile in what is now Jining County, Shandong Province. Growing up, he was greatly influenced by his mother, the ex-empress, who instilled in him the need to restore the great Xia dynasty. In time, because the traitor Han Zhuo was on his trail, he had to flee even farther to the area of what is now known as Yongji County, Shandong. There, he was taken in by a friendly tribal king who offered to Shaokang his second daughter's hand in marriage. In addition, the king bestowed upon Shaokang a small fiefdom and a personal army of five hundred men, a pittance compared to what his father the emperor had had but still a beginning!
He was not a young man who mourned the past; instead, he took the resources he was given by his father-in-law and turned his own small fiefdom into a prosperous mini-state, one which did nothing but increase the prestige of the toppled Xia and developed within the people a deep sympathy for that fallen house's cause.
In time, Shaokang was to have his revenge.
In 2078 B.C., the usurping Han Zhuo regime fell prey to an insurrection. Shaokang contacted his father's loyal minister Count Mi and other leaders of the anti-Han movement. Shaokang amassed an army which in a crucial battle defeated the Han force but not before the traitor Han Zhuo was slain.
And thus did Shaokang, acting out of the greatest filial devotion to his parents, avenge his murdered father and restore the mighty Xia!
Notes
from Sanshiliuxiao, p. 14. (For full citation, see 4/17/09 for full citation.)
This is story #2 in the Wu Yanhuan edition.
He was not a young man who mourned the past; instead, he took the resources he was given by his father-in-law and turned his own small fiefdom into a prosperous mini-state, one which did nothing but increase the prestige of the toppled Xia and developed within the people a deep sympathy for that fallen house's cause.
In time, Shaokang was to have his revenge.
In 2078 B.C., the usurping Han Zhuo regime fell prey to an insurrection. Shaokang contacted his father's loyal minister Count Mi and other leaders of the anti-Han movement. Shaokang amassed an army which in a crucial battle defeated the Han force but not before the traitor Han Zhuo was slain.
And thus did Shaokang, acting out of the greatest filial devotion to his parents, avenge his murdered father and restore the mighty Xia!
Notes
from Sanshiliuxiao, p. 14. (For full citation, see 4/17/09 for full citation.)
This is story #2 in the Wu Yanhuan edition.
(2) Gu Yanwu (Ming & Qing Dynasties)
At the tail end of the Ming Dynasty and the beginning of the Qing, there lived a man in Kunshan County, Jiangsu, named Gu Yanwu (1613-1682 A.D.), the second oldest of five boys. At the age of two, he was adopted by the widow of his father's younger brother. He remained devoted and filial to his adopted mother all her life.
When the Ming fell to the Qing (1644), his adopted mother took her life. In her final testament, she wrote, "Though I am a woman, I am still a recipient of the nation's grace and prefer to die with my nation, the Ming, than live without it. I will not live as a subject of foreign rulers and thus betray the Ming. Thus, I prefer to sink into the darkness of the underworld."
This message left a deep impact on Yanwu, one which he was to remember to the end of his days.
After the establishment of the Manchu Qing dynasty, he became a great scholar respected by many, both Ming loyalists and many among the Qing authorities. On more than one occasion, Qing agents approached him with blandishments and veiled threats in attempts to enlist him in the Qing cause. Each time with great bravery and ignoring the risks, he rebuffed these servants of the Qing.
That is how he lived up until his death--mindful of his adopted mother's dying words, filial and patriotic to the end.
Notes
from Sanshiliuxiao, p. 76 (See 4/17/09 for full citation.)
This is story #33 in the Wu Yanhuan edition.
(3) Ding Chunliang (Qing Dynasty)
Ding Chunliang (1813-1873) was born in Jinjiang, Fujian Province. When he was thirteen, he followed his father over to Taiwan, where in Lugang, his father set up a grocery store. There, he worked for his father diligently.
Not long after, however, his father had a stroke. He became blind and unable to move half of his body. Walking without assistance became impossible. Chunliang took over the management of the store and then, at night, he would help his father out of bed and outside to sit with him whenever there were evening opera performances.
The years passed but the elder Ding's condition did not improve. His appetite decreased; furthermore, Chunliang needed to continue helping him dispose of bodily wastes. He did so without complaint, even when his father often soiled his bed and blankets.
It came to the point where Chunliang spent each available moment by his father's bedside, sleeping on the floor, and always alert to the slightest sound or request his father might make. When such a sound or request was made, Chunliang would immediately get up and meet his father's every need.
This went on for more than ten years. Not once did Chunliang demonstrate any anger, annoyance or impatience.
When a fire in the vegetable garden threatened the house, Chunliang picked up his father and headed for the front door. The fire had already spread, with flames and smoke on both sides of Chunliang and his father. Chunliang stood in the doorway, holding his father in his arms, protecting his father from the fire. Fortunately, the fire was put out in time before either was killed.
When Chunliang was thirty one, his father passed away. Chunliang then observed the proper rites for his father.
Chunliang's long devotion to his father was not lost upon the local city fathers. A memorial stele detailing his acts of filial piety was erected. After Chunliang's own death, his named was inscribed in the shrine dedicated to filial youths.
Notes
from Sanshiliuxiao, p. 82 (See 4/17/09 for full citation.)
This is story #36 in the Wu Yanhuan edition.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
The Fox Maiden (Manchu)
There was a young woodcutter named Bayang'a who lived all by himself; he had to, for he was too poor to afford a wife. Anyway, he was out in the forest chopping wood one day when he heard a commotion behind some trees and bushes. He stepped over to take a look.
In a clearing a group of boys had captured a young fox and were finishing tying up its legs. The fox was a beautiful creature, with piercing and sparkling black eyes.
"Where did you boys get that fox?" asked Bayang'a.
"In that cave over there, " one of them answered, pointing to a cave just beyond the clearing.
"And what do you plan to do with it?"
"Skin it!" replied another. "Then we'll sell the fur as lining for a jacket!"
Bayang'a looked the fox over. He shook his head. "Yes, maybe when it's bigger, but it's still too small. Killing it now would really be a waste, a shame. How about if I buy it from you?"
The boys agreed, and Bayang'a paid them the little money he had on himself. The boys ran off with their "riches," and Bayang'a carried the fox to the mouth of the cave, where he untied the creature's legs.
"All right, there you go," he said. "Go back into your cave and find your parents!" The fox darted back inside. "And make sure you don't go carelessly running around in these parts!"
The fox's old father cried tears of joy to be reunited with his daughter. "I thought I'd never see you again!" he said, embracing her. "What happened?"
The daughter fox explained how a kindhearted woodcutter had arrived in just in time and bought her from the boys who had intended to skin her for her fur.
"Then this is what you must do," said the father. "You must help him. You must reward him. We foxes always repay a kindness, so the next time you see him, you must find a way to repay him!"
The daughter fox agreed. She had found Bayang'a not only tenderhearted but also rather handsome. She decided she would repay him with the magic known to all foxes.
So, not long after that, the daughter fox left the cave and, seeing Bayang'a off in the distance, chopping wood, turned herself into a mortal, a beautiful girl with alabaster skin and long, black hair like shimmering silk. She approached Bayang'a.
"Hello, there, Brother," she said.
Bayang'a stopped what he was doing. "Hello to you."
"Why are you chopping all this wood?"
"I sell what I can and burn the rest for myself."
"And you use that which you burn to cook for yourself?"
"If I don't cook for myself, no one else will!"
"Is there no one else in your life, Brother?"
"No one else. Just myself."
"Well, I too, as a person," she said slyly, "have no one else in my life, either. I wouldn't mind being married to one such as yourself!"
Bayang'a's face turned a deep red. He looked down for a few seconds. Then, he looked up and asked, "You'd be happy married to a poor person such as myself?"
" 'Poor'! Ha! What's being 'poor'? I have two hands; I am not afraid to roll my sleeves up and get my hands dirty! You and I'd always have food to eat!"
Well, the long and short of it was they did indeed marry each other!
Now married to Bayang'a, the fox girl did not remain idle. As soon as she was married, she sat in Bayang'a's small home and embroidered purses and pouches. She didn't stop until she had beautifully embroidered ninety-nine of them.
These were no ordinary designs!
The embroidered birds actually seemed to fly; the deer, if you didn't blink, appeared to prance and to run; the swaying tall grass, if you sniffed, exuded a fragrant redolence; and the fish, you'd swear, leaped right out of the water and back into the brine.
It took her five days to do the job. Once completed with the embroidering, she turned the bags over to her husband.
"Bayang'a," she said, "take these to the market to sell. Take this extra large bag and display it outside the stall. It will get the attention of the crowd for sure! One more thing: Make sure you absolutely do not tell anyone who had embroidered them!"
"Yes, my wife."
Bayang'a, shouldering a pole to carry two large sacks containing the ninety-nine bags, went to the town market. It happened to be some festive day, so the market was bustling with people from near and far. There were stalls everywhere--those selling huge red dates, sugar, fabrics of every kind, glutinous rice cakes wrapped in leaves, and so on. Each vendor pitched his or her wares with nearly ear-splitting inducements to the passersby. "The melon seller insisted his melons were sweet; the flower seller claimed his flowers were fragrant; the pickle seller swore his pickles were sour," as the old saying goes.
Bayang'a, totally unversed in the way of selling a product, chose an out-of-the-way spot to set up his stall. Luckily for him, the sheer fragrance of the pouches and purses, especially the rather large one displayed on a pole by his stall, quickly attracted people his way. Soon, he was doing a very brisk business.
"Unbelievable!" one customer exclaimed, holding up the pouch he had bought, examining it from every angle. "I'll tell you this--not even a celestial goddess could embroider like this!"
Before long all the purses and pouches had been sold--all but one, the large sample purse. And it was this purse that caught the attention of the local garrison commander, an officer called Liu Shi San.
"Bayang'a!" he said, coming up to the stall, looking over the large purse. "Who on earth did this embroidery?"
"Oh . . . just somebody . . ."
"Come, come now! Who did this amazing work? a fairy?"
"Just . . . just . . . somebody I know . . . "
"Bayang'a, I'm asking you a direct question. Allow me to ask you again. Who did this work?"
"A . . . relative."
" 'A relative.' Very well, Bayang'a. I wish to have some. Can you have your relative embroider some more for me?"
"Certainly, Your Excellency."
"One more thing: You must take me to meet the embroiderer."
"Well . . . I don't know . . . "
"Baiyang'a, are you refusing my order? My patience with you is already wearing thin. Pack up your things and your earnings, and let's go."
Well, Baiyang'a was in a fix. He couldn't very well refuse a royal officer, so he dutifully led Commander Liu Shi San to his home, where, the officer came face-to-face with Baiyang'a's gorgeous bride. Her beautiful black eyes, however, glowered at the officer like angry burning coals.
Immediately, the commander was smitten by her beauty; in fact, he was just about shot through the heart. However, he was, above everything else, a loyal subject of his king. Wait until I tell His Majesty about this fetching woman! he thought. He was sure he'd be rewarded beyond his dreams when the king himself discovered this stunning young lady and added her to his collection of beauties.
Commander Liu Shi San stuttered and stammered. Without even saying how many pouches he wished to order, he abruptly grabbed one of the embroidered bags, turned around, leaped over the threshold bar, and fled to the royal palace. Once there, he told his sovereign about the girl with the milky-complexioned egg-shaped face, ruby lips, and shimmering dark eyes.
"Moreover, Your Majesty," added the commander, "she embroidered this pouch!" He produced the pouch, which, if you looked at it from the right angle, you could see darting deer, leaping fish, and churning water. You could also, of course, smell the sweetness of the swaying grasses.
"Who is this woman who is as lovely as a celestial maiden and who can also embroider thus?" asked the king.
"Bayang'a's wife, Your Majesty."
"Bring her to me at once!" thundered the king. "Drag her forcibly if you must but bring her here immediately!"
The fox girl knew as soon as the commander had left that their troubles were just beginning.
"Bayang'a, act quickly. That man will be back to take me to the palace--"
"I shall never let anyone separate us!" Bayang'a cried, embracing her.
She pushed him away and said, "No, act quickly, I said! We have no time to lose! Go up the mountain and strip away bark from yellow bi trees. Bring lots of the bark back to me right away!"
Without a further word, Bayang'a quickly headed up the mountain. He came back as fast as he could with a sack full of yellow bi bark. His wife took the bark, crushed it in a tub, added some water, stirred the ingredients and made a paste. She then applied the paste to her face and the rest of her body.
"How do I look?" she asked Bayang'a.
"You . . . you look very sick . . . as if you had jaundice!"
Before long, the commander, as expected, showed up with some of his men. Without any resistance, the fox girl allowed him to escort her to the king's palace. She strode into the king's chamber, without kneeling or even so much as a lowering of her head.
"The wife of Bayang'a reports to His Majesty!" she said to the astonished king.
Commander Liu Shi San looked at the king. He had imagined his king would be ecstatic to have such a rare beauty before his eyes. Instead, the monarch looked both displeased and disgusted.
"Take her away!" the king cried. "Send her to the kitchen and have her boil water! Filthy-looking, ill-bred creature!"
"Your Majesty, I must report something to you," said the fox girl, turning her head back to the king as she was led towards the royal kitchen. The king looked at her. "Just recently I became ill. I'm very ill right now, as a matter of fact. Please don't blame me before I die for infecting your kitchen staff and anyone in the royal household!"
"Get her out of here before I fall ill!" screamed the king, attempting to pull up his shirt up with one hand to cover his face and pinching his nose with fingers from the other hand. "Turn her out at once! Go! Go! Go!"
The fox girl was escorted to the outer gates of the palace. Once beyond the threshold of the palace gate, she had the heavy gates slammed in her face. She smiled, shrugged and trudged back home.
Inside the palace, the king slowly turned to the commander. "You brought that filthy, diseased woman in here! Guards! Guards! Take the ex-commander to the chopping block this instance!"
Once back home, the fox girl and Bayang'a decided to flee the area, which they did!
Notes
from Minjian gushi, pp. 182-185. (See 3/26/08 for complete citation.)
This is yet another version from the worldwide Supernatural Wife cycle of tales. Other examples can be found at 12/21/07 and 1/23/08. In the story the fox wife never reveals her true identity to her husband and presumably remains in human form for evermore. Commander Liu Shi San's name simply means "sixty-three." Like many characters from Chinese and Indo-European folktales, he behaves like a clueless automaton, allowing a dangerously ill-appearing woman to approach his king. I have not been able to locate the identity of the bi tree.
Motifs: B601.14, "Marriage to fox in human form"; D313.1, "Fox transformed to human"; J242.3, "Fox masks as beauty."
In a clearing a group of boys had captured a young fox and were finishing tying up its legs. The fox was a beautiful creature, with piercing and sparkling black eyes.
"Where did you boys get that fox?" asked Bayang'a.
"In that cave over there, " one of them answered, pointing to a cave just beyond the clearing.
"And what do you plan to do with it?"
"Skin it!" replied another. "Then we'll sell the fur as lining for a jacket!"
Bayang'a looked the fox over. He shook his head. "Yes, maybe when it's bigger, but it's still too small. Killing it now would really be a waste, a shame. How about if I buy it from you?"
The boys agreed, and Bayang'a paid them the little money he had on himself. The boys ran off with their "riches," and Bayang'a carried the fox to the mouth of the cave, where he untied the creature's legs.
"All right, there you go," he said. "Go back into your cave and find your parents!" The fox darted back inside. "And make sure you don't go carelessly running around in these parts!"
The fox's old father cried tears of joy to be reunited with his daughter. "I thought I'd never see you again!" he said, embracing her. "What happened?"
The daughter fox explained how a kindhearted woodcutter had arrived in just in time and bought her from the boys who had intended to skin her for her fur.
"Then this is what you must do," said the father. "You must help him. You must reward him. We foxes always repay a kindness, so the next time you see him, you must find a way to repay him!"
The daughter fox agreed. She had found Bayang'a not only tenderhearted but also rather handsome. She decided she would repay him with the magic known to all foxes.
So, not long after that, the daughter fox left the cave and, seeing Bayang'a off in the distance, chopping wood, turned herself into a mortal, a beautiful girl with alabaster skin and long, black hair like shimmering silk. She approached Bayang'a.
"Hello, there, Brother," she said.
Bayang'a stopped what he was doing. "Hello to you."
"Why are you chopping all this wood?"
"I sell what I can and burn the rest for myself."
"And you use that which you burn to cook for yourself?"
"If I don't cook for myself, no one else will!"
"Is there no one else in your life, Brother?"
"No one else. Just myself."
"Well, I too, as a person," she said slyly, "have no one else in my life, either. I wouldn't mind being married to one such as yourself!"
Bayang'a's face turned a deep red. He looked down for a few seconds. Then, he looked up and asked, "You'd be happy married to a poor person such as myself?"
" 'Poor'! Ha! What's being 'poor'? I have two hands; I am not afraid to roll my sleeves up and get my hands dirty! You and I'd always have food to eat!"
Well, the long and short of it was they did indeed marry each other!
Now married to Bayang'a, the fox girl did not remain idle. As soon as she was married, she sat in Bayang'a's small home and embroidered purses and pouches. She didn't stop until she had beautifully embroidered ninety-nine of them.
These were no ordinary designs!
The embroidered birds actually seemed to fly; the deer, if you didn't blink, appeared to prance and to run; the swaying tall grass, if you sniffed, exuded a fragrant redolence; and the fish, you'd swear, leaped right out of the water and back into the brine.
It took her five days to do the job. Once completed with the embroidering, she turned the bags over to her husband.
"Bayang'a," she said, "take these to the market to sell. Take this extra large bag and display it outside the stall. It will get the attention of the crowd for sure! One more thing: Make sure you absolutely do not tell anyone who had embroidered them!"
"Yes, my wife."
Bayang'a, shouldering a pole to carry two large sacks containing the ninety-nine bags, went to the town market. It happened to be some festive day, so the market was bustling with people from near and far. There were stalls everywhere--those selling huge red dates, sugar, fabrics of every kind, glutinous rice cakes wrapped in leaves, and so on. Each vendor pitched his or her wares with nearly ear-splitting inducements to the passersby. "The melon seller insisted his melons were sweet; the flower seller claimed his flowers were fragrant; the pickle seller swore his pickles were sour," as the old saying goes.
Bayang'a, totally unversed in the way of selling a product, chose an out-of-the-way spot to set up his stall. Luckily for him, the sheer fragrance of the pouches and purses, especially the rather large one displayed on a pole by his stall, quickly attracted people his way. Soon, he was doing a very brisk business.
"Unbelievable!" one customer exclaimed, holding up the pouch he had bought, examining it from every angle. "I'll tell you this--not even a celestial goddess could embroider like this!"
Before long all the purses and pouches had been sold--all but one, the large sample purse. And it was this purse that caught the attention of the local garrison commander, an officer called Liu Shi San.
"Bayang'a!" he said, coming up to the stall, looking over the large purse. "Who on earth did this embroidery?"
"Oh . . . just somebody . . ."
"Come, come now! Who did this amazing work? a fairy?"
"Just . . . just . . . somebody I know . . . "
"Bayang'a, I'm asking you a direct question. Allow me to ask you again. Who did this work?"
"A . . . relative."
" 'A relative.' Very well, Bayang'a. I wish to have some. Can you have your relative embroider some more for me?"
"Certainly, Your Excellency."
"One more thing: You must take me to meet the embroiderer."
"Well . . . I don't know . . . "
"Baiyang'a, are you refusing my order? My patience with you is already wearing thin. Pack up your things and your earnings, and let's go."
Well, Baiyang'a was in a fix. He couldn't very well refuse a royal officer, so he dutifully led Commander Liu Shi San to his home, where, the officer came face-to-face with Baiyang'a's gorgeous bride. Her beautiful black eyes, however, glowered at the officer like angry burning coals.
Immediately, the commander was smitten by her beauty; in fact, he was just about shot through the heart. However, he was, above everything else, a loyal subject of his king. Wait until I tell His Majesty about this fetching woman! he thought. He was sure he'd be rewarded beyond his dreams when the king himself discovered this stunning young lady and added her to his collection of beauties.
Commander Liu Shi San stuttered and stammered. Without even saying how many pouches he wished to order, he abruptly grabbed one of the embroidered bags, turned around, leaped over the threshold bar, and fled to the royal palace. Once there, he told his sovereign about the girl with the milky-complexioned egg-shaped face, ruby lips, and shimmering dark eyes.
"Moreover, Your Majesty," added the commander, "she embroidered this pouch!" He produced the pouch, which, if you looked at it from the right angle, you could see darting deer, leaping fish, and churning water. You could also, of course, smell the sweetness of the swaying grasses.
"Who is this woman who is as lovely as a celestial maiden and who can also embroider thus?" asked the king.
"Bayang'a's wife, Your Majesty."
"Bring her to me at once!" thundered the king. "Drag her forcibly if you must but bring her here immediately!"
The fox girl knew as soon as the commander had left that their troubles were just beginning.
"Bayang'a, act quickly. That man will be back to take me to the palace--"
"I shall never let anyone separate us!" Bayang'a cried, embracing her.
She pushed him away and said, "No, act quickly, I said! We have no time to lose! Go up the mountain and strip away bark from yellow bi trees. Bring lots of the bark back to me right away!"
Without a further word, Bayang'a quickly headed up the mountain. He came back as fast as he could with a sack full of yellow bi bark. His wife took the bark, crushed it in a tub, added some water, stirred the ingredients and made a paste. She then applied the paste to her face and the rest of her body.
"How do I look?" she asked Bayang'a.
"You . . . you look very sick . . . as if you had jaundice!"
Before long, the commander, as expected, showed up with some of his men. Without any resistance, the fox girl allowed him to escort her to the king's palace. She strode into the king's chamber, without kneeling or even so much as a lowering of her head.
"The wife of Bayang'a reports to His Majesty!" she said to the astonished king.
Commander Liu Shi San looked at the king. He had imagined his king would be ecstatic to have such a rare beauty before his eyes. Instead, the monarch looked both displeased and disgusted.
"Take her away!" the king cried. "Send her to the kitchen and have her boil water! Filthy-looking, ill-bred creature!"
"Your Majesty, I must report something to you," said the fox girl, turning her head back to the king as she was led towards the royal kitchen. The king looked at her. "Just recently I became ill. I'm very ill right now, as a matter of fact. Please don't blame me before I die for infecting your kitchen staff and anyone in the royal household!"
"Get her out of here before I fall ill!" screamed the king, attempting to pull up his shirt up with one hand to cover his face and pinching his nose with fingers from the other hand. "Turn her out at once! Go! Go! Go!"
The fox girl was escorted to the outer gates of the palace. Once beyond the threshold of the palace gate, she had the heavy gates slammed in her face. She smiled, shrugged and trudged back home.
Inside the palace, the king slowly turned to the commander. "You brought that filthy, diseased woman in here! Guards! Guards! Take the ex-commander to the chopping block this instance!"
Once back home, the fox girl and Bayang'a decided to flee the area, which they did!
Notes
from Minjian gushi, pp. 182-185. (See 3/26/08 for complete citation.)
This is yet another version from the worldwide Supernatural Wife cycle of tales. Other examples can be found at 12/21/07 and 1/23/08. In the story the fox wife never reveals her true identity to her husband and presumably remains in human form for evermore. Commander Liu Shi San's name simply means "sixty-three." Like many characters from Chinese and Indo-European folktales, he behaves like a clueless automaton, allowing a dangerously ill-appearing woman to approach his king. I have not been able to locate the identity of the bi tree.
Motifs: B601.14, "Marriage to fox in human form"; D313.1, "Fox transformed to human"; J242.3, "Fox masks as beauty."
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
The Hunter Hailibu (Mongol)
In days past there lived a mighty hunter, Hailibu. Like many great hunters, he sought game not merely to take a life but to feed himself and those in the area who could no longer hunt for themselves. And like many great hunters, he knew as well when not to take a life. In all the mountain and forest villages he passed, he was welcomed, for everyone knew him to be generous to a fault and a straight talker, a man who did, not one who just spoke of doing.
One day he was out hunting in the heart of the forest when he came upon a tree that grew on the peak of a steep hill. On one of the top branches of that tree, a little white snake was curled up, apparently very comfortably, and seemingly fast asleep.
Hailibu mused to himself how content that snake looked, as content as a human taking a nap on a hot day during a break in work.
He took a wide detour around the tree so as not to disturb the snake.
Suddenly he noticed a gray shadow in the sky. Down swooped a stork and immediately snatched the little snake up in its talons!
"Help! Save me!" cried the little white snake.
"Fear not, little friend!" replied Hailibu, who swiftly took out an arrow and aim it at the stork, which was rapidly ascending into the sky. Hailibu's arrow was likewise swift. It nicked the stork, which dropped the snake, and then flew beyond the treetops as fast as its wings could carry it.
Hailibu reached the spot where the snake had landed.
"You're safe now, little one," he said to the serpent as it looked up at him. "Go back home to your mother and father."
The snake nodded its head and slithered off.
The next day Hailibu found himself in the exact same area. There, underneath the tree upon which the little white snake had rested the day before, were now a whole host of snakes circling the little white snake. obviously guarding it. Hailibu found this strange and watched the snakes.
"My rescuer!" said the little white snake. "I was hoping you'd be here."
"Yes, well here I am . . . "
"You do not know this," continued the snake, "but I am the daughter of the Dragon King. He and my mother sent me back here today to see if you would return. They wish to thank you for saving my life yesterday. You are hereby invited to my home, the palace, to be exact, the gem storehouse of the palace!"
"I'd be honored."
"Once there, you will be rewarded. You will be offered anything in my father's gem storehouse. But listen carefully, hunter. Refuse whatever is in the storehouse. Instead, ask as a reward the gem my father always carries in his mouth!"
"Oh? May I ask why, Princess?"
"You are a hunter, are you not? Then you should be very interested in obtaining that gem. If you too carry that gem in your mouth, you shall be able to understand the language of every animal that crawls, walks, flies and swims!"
"How marvelous!"
"Yes, marvelous it is; however, please listen carefully. Whatever knowledge you obtain by listening to what animals say, you must keep it all to yourself. You must never divulge the knowledge of this secret to anyone, for if you do, you shall die a horrible death. You will, starting from the head, slowly turn to stone."
"I understand," said Hailibu. "I'll be careful."
"Let's be off, then . . . "
The little white snake led Hailibu down into a steep valley; the farther they went, the colder he felt. Finally, they reached the storehouse, a nondescript building far away, inaccessible, from the world of most humans.
"We are here, Hailibu," said the little white snake. "Now we are to wait for my parents to arrive."
By and by the Dragon King and Queen themselves slithered up to the little white snake and Hailibu.
"You are the young man who saved our daughter!" said the Dragon King. "For that the Queen and I are very grateful! Come with me inside the storehouse here and feel free to select any jewel or gem that you like!"
"Please forgive me for being so bold, Your Majesty," replied Hailibu. "What I would really like, if you don't mind, is that gem that is in your mouth right now!"
"The gem in my mouth?"
"Yes."
"You are sure that is all you want?"
"Yes."
"Very well."
The Dragon King reluctantly spat the gem into the palm of Hailibu's hand. What could he do? He was supposed to reward Hailibu. Hailibu thanked the King and Queen and excused himself to return to the world of people. The little white snake accompanied him to the border between her world and ours.
"Remember, Hailibu," said the little snake, "you may instantly understand what any animal within earshot says. Not only that, you may use that information to help yourself. Just make sure you don't tell anyone else about it or the secret of the gem! Otherwise, the consequence will not be pretty!"
Hailibu nodded, said goodbye to the snake, put the gem in his mouth and headed out into the forest.
From that day on, hunting became a very leisurely activity for him. No more would he have to lie in wait; no more would he have to approach an animal in stealth; no more would he have climb any trees, scale any cliffs or ensconce himself in scratchy bushes. Instead, he listened in to animals wherever he went and simply took several steps in a particular direction to find his prey.
One day he was out in the forest when he heard the chatter from some birds overhead.
"Come on!" cried one bird to the others. "Let's hurry and make sure the rest of the flock get the message!"
"You're sure about this?" cried another. "It means we'll all have to find a new home, start new nests over and--"
"Of course I'm sure! When have I ever been wrong? I'm telling you the coming flood will send a small ocean of water crashing down from the mountain tomorrow! You want to wait and see? Hurry! This time tomorrow this whole valley will be underwater, and so will all the people living here! Come on . . . "
This put Hailibu in a fix. To tell what he had overheard from the birds would spell his doom; not to tell, just to wait and see if the bird had exaggerated and then discover it had not, would mean the destruction of everyone in the nearby village . . .
He took the gem from his mouth and put it in his pouch.
"Prepare to flee!" he cried out, walking through the village. "Tomorrow an ocean of flood water will be coming down!"
Washerwomen put down their laundry; farmers stopped plowing their fields; children quit their games and their mothers rushed to pick them up. All stared at Hailibu.
"Come on! Gather your belongings! Tomorrow this whole area'll be underwater!"
"And how do you know this, Hailibu?" asked an old man.
"Believe me--it will happen." He started to weep, something no one had ever seen him do, ever. "If I died before you right this minute, would you believe me then?"
Everyone stared at him. Had the great hunter suddenly lost his mind?
"Hailibu," said the old man, "everyone in this village has known you for a very long time. All of us have always known you to be straight up the line. What you're saying now, though, makes you sound like a crazy man. How is it you know all this is going to happen tomorrow? I mean, confound it, if you are telling me to flee my own village, my ancestral home, to leave my home with all my possessions, I'm going to need to know more. Don't the rest of you agree?"
All the villagers who had just gathered into a circle vigorously nodded their heads.
Hailibu opened the pouch and extracted the small gem. He held it up for all to see. He then told the villagers everything about the gem--how he had obtained it, what powers it gave him, how he had overheard the flock of birds, with one bird in particular, and what it had said.
He concluded by saying, "I'm about to leave you for the next world. Let my death be the final evidence . . . "
He then turned to stone, right before their astonished eyes.
Everyone then scurried back to their homes, wrapped their possessions in blankets or bags, gathered up their children and elders, rounded up their animals and fled the village and the valley as fast as their legs could move.
Fleeing the village, they became aware of the thick black clouds that had formed overhead.
Early the next morning, the village was already empty when the first raindrops fell. Soon torrents of rain came down, loosening the rocks on the mountain top. A huge amount of water gushed and roared down the mountain, along with it, boulders, smashing the village huts and inundating the whole area with water that nearly reached the treetops.
The rain and flooding had stopped. When it was finally safe to return to the area, the villagers came back to survey the damage. The rock that had been the mighty hunter Hailibu was located; it had been carried by the floodwater and deposited atop a hill.
There, on the hill, generations of people continued to pay homage to Hailibu, making the rock a holy site. To this day, Hailibu's rock is still there.
Notes
from Jia & Sun, Zhongguo minjian gushixuan, Vol. 1, pp. 202-204. (For full citation, see 7/22/07.)
For similar stories of individuals being turned into stone, see the stories for 6/22/07 and 2/13/08. Motifs: A974, "Rock from transformation of people to stone"; C961.2, "Transformation to stone for breaking tabu"; D231, "Man transformed to stone"; W28, "Self sacrifice."
One day he was out hunting in the heart of the forest when he came upon a tree that grew on the peak of a steep hill. On one of the top branches of that tree, a little white snake was curled up, apparently very comfortably, and seemingly fast asleep.
Hailibu mused to himself how content that snake looked, as content as a human taking a nap on a hot day during a break in work.
He took a wide detour around the tree so as not to disturb the snake.
Suddenly he noticed a gray shadow in the sky. Down swooped a stork and immediately snatched the little snake up in its talons!
"Help! Save me!" cried the little white snake.
"Fear not, little friend!" replied Hailibu, who swiftly took out an arrow and aim it at the stork, which was rapidly ascending into the sky. Hailibu's arrow was likewise swift. It nicked the stork, which dropped the snake, and then flew beyond the treetops as fast as its wings could carry it.
Hailibu reached the spot where the snake had landed.
"You're safe now, little one," he said to the serpent as it looked up at him. "Go back home to your mother and father."
The snake nodded its head and slithered off.
The next day Hailibu found himself in the exact same area. There, underneath the tree upon which the little white snake had rested the day before, were now a whole host of snakes circling the little white snake. obviously guarding it. Hailibu found this strange and watched the snakes.
"My rescuer!" said the little white snake. "I was hoping you'd be here."
"Yes, well here I am . . . "
"You do not know this," continued the snake, "but I am the daughter of the Dragon King. He and my mother sent me back here today to see if you would return. They wish to thank you for saving my life yesterday. You are hereby invited to my home, the palace, to be exact, the gem storehouse of the palace!"
"I'd be honored."
"Once there, you will be rewarded. You will be offered anything in my father's gem storehouse. But listen carefully, hunter. Refuse whatever is in the storehouse. Instead, ask as a reward the gem my father always carries in his mouth!"
"Oh? May I ask why, Princess?"
"You are a hunter, are you not? Then you should be very interested in obtaining that gem. If you too carry that gem in your mouth, you shall be able to understand the language of every animal that crawls, walks, flies and swims!"
"How marvelous!"
"Yes, marvelous it is; however, please listen carefully. Whatever knowledge you obtain by listening to what animals say, you must keep it all to yourself. You must never divulge the knowledge of this secret to anyone, for if you do, you shall die a horrible death. You will, starting from the head, slowly turn to stone."
"I understand," said Hailibu. "I'll be careful."
"Let's be off, then . . . "
The little white snake led Hailibu down into a steep valley; the farther they went, the colder he felt. Finally, they reached the storehouse, a nondescript building far away, inaccessible, from the world of most humans.
"We are here, Hailibu," said the little white snake. "Now we are to wait for my parents to arrive."
By and by the Dragon King and Queen themselves slithered up to the little white snake and Hailibu.
"You are the young man who saved our daughter!" said the Dragon King. "For that the Queen and I are very grateful! Come with me inside the storehouse here and feel free to select any jewel or gem that you like!"
"Please forgive me for being so bold, Your Majesty," replied Hailibu. "What I would really like, if you don't mind, is that gem that is in your mouth right now!"
"The gem in my mouth?"
"Yes."
"You are sure that is all you want?"
"Yes."
"Very well."
The Dragon King reluctantly spat the gem into the palm of Hailibu's hand. What could he do? He was supposed to reward Hailibu. Hailibu thanked the King and Queen and excused himself to return to the world of people. The little white snake accompanied him to the border between her world and ours.
"Remember, Hailibu," said the little snake, "you may instantly understand what any animal within earshot says. Not only that, you may use that information to help yourself. Just make sure you don't tell anyone else about it or the secret of the gem! Otherwise, the consequence will not be pretty!"
Hailibu nodded, said goodbye to the snake, put the gem in his mouth and headed out into the forest.
From that day on, hunting became a very leisurely activity for him. No more would he have to lie in wait; no more would he have to approach an animal in stealth; no more would he have climb any trees, scale any cliffs or ensconce himself in scratchy bushes. Instead, he listened in to animals wherever he went and simply took several steps in a particular direction to find his prey.
One day he was out in the forest when he heard the chatter from some birds overhead.
"Come on!" cried one bird to the others. "Let's hurry and make sure the rest of the flock get the message!"
"You're sure about this?" cried another. "It means we'll all have to find a new home, start new nests over and--"
"Of course I'm sure! When have I ever been wrong? I'm telling you the coming flood will send a small ocean of water crashing down from the mountain tomorrow! You want to wait and see? Hurry! This time tomorrow this whole valley will be underwater, and so will all the people living here! Come on . . . "
This put Hailibu in a fix. To tell what he had overheard from the birds would spell his doom; not to tell, just to wait and see if the bird had exaggerated and then discover it had not, would mean the destruction of everyone in the nearby village . . .
He took the gem from his mouth and put it in his pouch.
"Prepare to flee!" he cried out, walking through the village. "Tomorrow an ocean of flood water will be coming down!"
Washerwomen put down their laundry; farmers stopped plowing their fields; children quit their games and their mothers rushed to pick them up. All stared at Hailibu.
"Come on! Gather your belongings! Tomorrow this whole area'll be underwater!"
"And how do you know this, Hailibu?" asked an old man.
"Believe me--it will happen." He started to weep, something no one had ever seen him do, ever. "If I died before you right this minute, would you believe me then?"
Everyone stared at him. Had the great hunter suddenly lost his mind?
"Hailibu," said the old man, "everyone in this village has known you for a very long time. All of us have always known you to be straight up the line. What you're saying now, though, makes you sound like a crazy man. How is it you know all this is going to happen tomorrow? I mean, confound it, if you are telling me to flee my own village, my ancestral home, to leave my home with all my possessions, I'm going to need to know more. Don't the rest of you agree?"
All the villagers who had just gathered into a circle vigorously nodded their heads.
Hailibu opened the pouch and extracted the small gem. He held it up for all to see. He then told the villagers everything about the gem--how he had obtained it, what powers it gave him, how he had overheard the flock of birds, with one bird in particular, and what it had said.
He concluded by saying, "I'm about to leave you for the next world. Let my death be the final evidence . . . "
He then turned to stone, right before their astonished eyes.
Everyone then scurried back to their homes, wrapped their possessions in blankets or bags, gathered up their children and elders, rounded up their animals and fled the village and the valley as fast as their legs could move.
Fleeing the village, they became aware of the thick black clouds that had formed overhead.
Early the next morning, the village was already empty when the first raindrops fell. Soon torrents of rain came down, loosening the rocks on the mountain top. A huge amount of water gushed and roared down the mountain, along with it, boulders, smashing the village huts and inundating the whole area with water that nearly reached the treetops.
The rain and flooding had stopped. When it was finally safe to return to the area, the villagers came back to survey the damage. The rock that had been the mighty hunter Hailibu was located; it had been carried by the floodwater and deposited atop a hill.
There, on the hill, generations of people continued to pay homage to Hailibu, making the rock a holy site. To this day, Hailibu's rock is still there.
Notes
from Jia & Sun, Zhongguo minjian gushixuan, Vol. 1, pp. 202-204. (For full citation, see 7/22/07.)
For similar stories of individuals being turned into stone, see the stories for 6/22/07 and 2/13/08. Motifs: A974, "Rock from transformation of people to stone"; C961.2, "Transformation to stone for breaking tabu"; D231, "Man transformed to stone"; W28, "Self sacrifice."
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Weird & Eerie Stories From Old China
Not ghost stories--I already have an ongoing series of such stories--but rather the first of what might hopefully be a collection of tales dealing with anomalies other than ghosts.
(1) Thirteen Cats
Imperial Censor Wang of Jiangning, Jiangsu, once had a concubine who, when she was seventy years of age, had thirteen cats. She loved those cats and took care of them as if they were her own children. She gave each one a name, and whenever she called one by its name, it would immediately come to her. In the forty-sixth year of the Qianlong Emperor (A.D. 1781), this woman died. The thirteen cats sat around her casket morning, day and night, unceasingly moaning. When offered fish to eat, the cats continued to cry and refused to touch the food. On the third day after the old woman's death, the thirteen cats, still surrounding the casket, were all found dead.
Notes
from Zi bu yu (Matters the Master [Confucius] Did Not Discuss) by Yuan Mei (1716-1798); in Lingyi guaitan, p. 172. (See 7/8/10 for full citation.)
Yuan Mei derived the title for his book from a statement by Confucius: "I do not discuss weird abilities or contemptible spirits." Confucius's words reflect the ultra-Confucian attitude of aloofness from the incorporeal world.
(2) The Daughter of Xiang Shui
There once was a man named Xiang Shui who lived in Henai (now in Henan Province). When he was living in Wu Xing Qun (?), his wife gave birth to a girl. When the girl was a toddler, she came down with an illness. While she was sick at home with nothing to do, this child came across a small knife and started playing with it. Her mother saw her holding a knife and went to take it from her. Doing so, the mother accidentally nicked her own hand. After this incident, the poor child, now very ill, died.
A year passed. Xiang's wife had now given birth to another girl.
When this girl was four years old, she suddenly said to her mother, " Whatever happened to that small knife?"
"What knife, my daughter?"
"You know, the small knife you you took from me, the one I cut you with . . . "
As one can imagine, the mother was dumbstruck. Neither she nor her husband had ever talked about the now deceased daughter's playing with a knife and accidentally cutting her mother's hand. She went to tell Xiang Shui.
"Well," said Xiang Shui, " where exactly is that knife? Do we still have it?"
"Ever since the day our first daughter left us," replied the wife, "I've not used that knife. It breaks my heart just to think of the knife, for it reminds me of her. I put the knife away."
"Do this. Find that knife and put it amongst a bunch of similar knives. See if our daughter can spot the one you think she was talking about."
The mother did exactly this--she placed a number of small knives, including the small knife in question, before her daughter. In no time the small child gleefully picked up the small knife her late sister had played with four years before, the same knife which had cut the mother's hand.
Notes
from Taiping guangji (The Comprehensive Records of Peace and Tranquility) by Li Fang (925-997 A.D.); in Lingyi guaitan, p. 101.
Throughout the world, down through the centuries and in many if not most cultures, there have been frequent reports of small children blurting out details of a supposed previous existence of which they could not have possibly known. For another story of reincarnation, see 6/14/10. The case of Shanta Devi and the research done by Dr. Ian Stevenson come to my mind after reading this story of suggested reincarnation from ancient China.
(3) Sometimes We Must Look to the Past
In the state of Pei (now Anhui Province), there lived a scholar and his wife. He and his wife had been blessed by their having triplets, boys. However, though each son was normal in every respect, none of them could enunciate normal speech. All they could do was to grunt unintelligible sounds.
By the time they reached the age of twenty, their condition remained the same. And so the three, along with their parents, were much disheartened. But what could they do?
Now one day, a well-meaning stranger happened to pass their house while the three boys and their father were out in the front. The stranger slowed down as he heard the garbled, incoherent mutterings of the three young brothers.
Turning to the embarrassed-looking father, the stranger asked, "What is this sound?"
"My sons. They are unable to speak."
"Oh?" asked the stranger. "Have you ever asked yourself if you had a role in why these fine young gentlemen should be unable to speak?"
The father looked at the stranger and seemed lost in thought for a long time. Finally, he replied, "When I was a boy, there was a swallow's nest just outside my bedroom window. In the nest were three young baby swallows. Their mother would fly over to the nest to feed each one. I can still remember seeing how each one would raise its beak and open it to receive the food.
"I was young, naughty and immature at the time. I took three short rose stems, with thorns and all, and climbed up to the nest. I then dangled a stem before each baby bird. When it opened its beak, I shoved the stem down its throat, killing it. I did this to each bird. How I regret doing that! "
The stranger nodded. "That's it" was all he said.
Then, in the blink of an eye, the three young men began conversing with each other for the first time in normal, articulate speech.
Thus, sometimes we must look to the past for an explanation to a current problem!
Notes
from Soushen ji by Gan Bao; in Lingyi guaitan; p. 10.
A Buddhist proverb teaches us that "if you wish to know why you are the way you are now, look to the past; if you wish to know how you shall be in the future, examine the way you are now." This karma may also reflect how the sins of the father, so to speak, can impact an otherwise blameless child.
May we all be so fortunate as to have well-meaning strangers enter our lives.
(4) The Secret of the Snake
There once was a scholar who had become an official. In some distant field, somewhere in the "two Guangs" (Guangdong and Guangxi provinces), he came across a huge peaceable snake, its girth nearly one chi (approx. 1/3 of a meter). He stood away, just observing it. It eventually crawled up a tree, and, to the amazement of the official, it began to devour all the leaves on the tree. Once all the leaves were gone, the circumference of the snake gradually but perceptibly grew smaller and smaller until at last the reptile had totally vanished!
A nearby local explained to him that the snake had probably eaten a whole deer earlier and was unable to digest the meal. So, in order to do so, it ate all the leaves in the tree.
The official decided to experiment. He picked as many leaves as he could and carried them back to his quarters. There, he kept the leaves, awaiting the perfect time to begin his research.
One night, when he felt particularly sated by food and drink, he decided he would do what the snake had done. He mashed the leaves with water, brewed a huge pot of soup with the ingredients, and drank all of it down.
The next day, when the official hadn't come down, his family members went up to look in on him. He was not in his bed. Someone pulled his bed cover back, revealing a collection of white bones and the rest, mostly tissue which had dissolved into water.
Notes
from Wen qi lu (Record of strange things heard) by Yu Ti (?); in Zhongguo qitan, pp. 19-19. (See 3/26/09 for complete citation.)
For another tale about a snake with a huge appetite, see 6/13/07.
(5) Fate
Long before he had ever made a name for himself, Zhang Jiazhen had time to kill one day and stopped by an old fortuneteller who had "set up shop" by a busy road. The old man consulted his various charts and devices and wrote up a number of different forecasts for Zhang, sealing each one in a separate envelope.
"Don't open them all up at once," the old man said. "They're numbered. Open each one in order just before you're given a new post or assignment." He then handed Zhang all the envelopes.
So each time Zhang was ready to leave a current post, he'd open an envelope to see what was in store just before the very next time he was posted or given an assignment. Amazingly, the old man's predictions were all completely accurate. Each sealed prediction foretold a post more prestigious than the current one.
Then came a glorious job assignment that had likewise been foretold: prefect of Dingzhou, Hebei Province! What office could be higher? Yet there was one envelope left. That was forgotten in his taking office in Dingzhou.
Not long after becoming prefect, Zhang Jiazhen came down with an illness. His family members became quite anxious and urged him to go see a physician.
"Ah, think nothing of it!" said Zhang. "I'm fine and going to stay fine. I have one yet envelope to open before I retire, don't you remember? Well, seeing as how you are all worried, I'll go ahead and open the envelope now, though it's a bit early to do so."
There, standing before his loved ones, he opened the final envelope. He took out the paper. Upon it was written just one character, "kong" (i.e., "empty," "blank," etc.).
He then knew that he was at the end of the road. He died shortly after.
Notes
from Dingming lu (Records of Determined Fates) by Zhao Zidong (?); in Zhongguo qitan, pp. 42-43.
(1) Thirteen Cats
Imperial Censor Wang of Jiangning, Jiangsu, once had a concubine who, when she was seventy years of age, had thirteen cats. She loved those cats and took care of them as if they were her own children. She gave each one a name, and whenever she called one by its name, it would immediately come to her. In the forty-sixth year of the Qianlong Emperor (A.D. 1781), this woman died. The thirteen cats sat around her casket morning, day and night, unceasingly moaning. When offered fish to eat, the cats continued to cry and refused to touch the food. On the third day after the old woman's death, the thirteen cats, still surrounding the casket, were all found dead.
Notes
from Zi bu yu (Matters the Master [Confucius] Did Not Discuss) by Yuan Mei (1716-1798); in Lingyi guaitan, p. 172. (See 7/8/10 for full citation.)
Yuan Mei derived the title for his book from a statement by Confucius: "I do not discuss weird abilities or contemptible spirits." Confucius's words reflect the ultra-Confucian attitude of aloofness from the incorporeal world.
(2) The Daughter of Xiang Shui
There once was a man named Xiang Shui who lived in Henai (now in Henan Province). When he was living in Wu Xing Qun (?), his wife gave birth to a girl. When the girl was a toddler, she came down with an illness. While she was sick at home with nothing to do, this child came across a small knife and started playing with it. Her mother saw her holding a knife and went to take it from her. Doing so, the mother accidentally nicked her own hand. After this incident, the poor child, now very ill, died.
A year passed. Xiang's wife had now given birth to another girl.
When this girl was four years old, she suddenly said to her mother, " Whatever happened to that small knife?"
"What knife, my daughter?"
"You know, the small knife you you took from me, the one I cut you with . . . "
As one can imagine, the mother was dumbstruck. Neither she nor her husband had ever talked about the now deceased daughter's playing with a knife and accidentally cutting her mother's hand. She went to tell Xiang Shui.
"Well," said Xiang Shui, " where exactly is that knife? Do we still have it?"
"Ever since the day our first daughter left us," replied the wife, "I've not used that knife. It breaks my heart just to think of the knife, for it reminds me of her. I put the knife away."
"Do this. Find that knife and put it amongst a bunch of similar knives. See if our daughter can spot the one you think she was talking about."
The mother did exactly this--she placed a number of small knives, including the small knife in question, before her daughter. In no time the small child gleefully picked up the small knife her late sister had played with four years before, the same knife which had cut the mother's hand.
Notes
from Taiping guangji (The Comprehensive Records of Peace and Tranquility) by Li Fang (925-997 A.D.); in Lingyi guaitan, p. 101.
Throughout the world, down through the centuries and in many if not most cultures, there have been frequent reports of small children blurting out details of a supposed previous existence of which they could not have possibly known. For another story of reincarnation, see 6/14/10. The case of Shanta Devi and the research done by Dr. Ian Stevenson come to my mind after reading this story of suggested reincarnation from ancient China.
(3) Sometimes We Must Look to the Past
In the state of Pei (now Anhui Province), there lived a scholar and his wife. He and his wife had been blessed by their having triplets, boys. However, though each son was normal in every respect, none of them could enunciate normal speech. All they could do was to grunt unintelligible sounds.
By the time they reached the age of twenty, their condition remained the same. And so the three, along with their parents, were much disheartened. But what could they do?
Now one day, a well-meaning stranger happened to pass their house while the three boys and their father were out in the front. The stranger slowed down as he heard the garbled, incoherent mutterings of the three young brothers.
Turning to the embarrassed-looking father, the stranger asked, "What is this sound?"
"My sons. They are unable to speak."
"Oh?" asked the stranger. "Have you ever asked yourself if you had a role in why these fine young gentlemen should be unable to speak?"
The father looked at the stranger and seemed lost in thought for a long time. Finally, he replied, "When I was a boy, there was a swallow's nest just outside my bedroom window. In the nest were three young baby swallows. Their mother would fly over to the nest to feed each one. I can still remember seeing how each one would raise its beak and open it to receive the food.
"I was young, naughty and immature at the time. I took three short rose stems, with thorns and all, and climbed up to the nest. I then dangled a stem before each baby bird. When it opened its beak, I shoved the stem down its throat, killing it. I did this to each bird. How I regret doing that! "
The stranger nodded. "That's it" was all he said.
Then, in the blink of an eye, the three young men began conversing with each other for the first time in normal, articulate speech.
Thus, sometimes we must look to the past for an explanation to a current problem!
Notes
from Soushen ji by Gan Bao; in Lingyi guaitan; p. 10.
A Buddhist proverb teaches us that "if you wish to know why you are the way you are now, look to the past; if you wish to know how you shall be in the future, examine the way you are now." This karma may also reflect how the sins of the father, so to speak, can impact an otherwise blameless child.
May we all be so fortunate as to have well-meaning strangers enter our lives.
(4) The Secret of the Snake
There once was a scholar who had become an official. In some distant field, somewhere in the "two Guangs" (Guangdong and Guangxi provinces), he came across a huge peaceable snake, its girth nearly one chi (approx. 1/3 of a meter). He stood away, just observing it. It eventually crawled up a tree, and, to the amazement of the official, it began to devour all the leaves on the tree. Once all the leaves were gone, the circumference of the snake gradually but perceptibly grew smaller and smaller until at last the reptile had totally vanished!
A nearby local explained to him that the snake had probably eaten a whole deer earlier and was unable to digest the meal. So, in order to do so, it ate all the leaves in the tree.
The official decided to experiment. He picked as many leaves as he could and carried them back to his quarters. There, he kept the leaves, awaiting the perfect time to begin his research.
One night, when he felt particularly sated by food and drink, he decided he would do what the snake had done. He mashed the leaves with water, brewed a huge pot of soup with the ingredients, and drank all of it down.
The next day, when the official hadn't come down, his family members went up to look in on him. He was not in his bed. Someone pulled his bed cover back, revealing a collection of white bones and the rest, mostly tissue which had dissolved into water.
Notes
from Wen qi lu (Record of strange things heard) by Yu Ti (?); in Zhongguo qitan, pp. 19-19. (See 3/26/09 for complete citation.)
For another tale about a snake with a huge appetite, see 6/13/07.
(5) Fate
Long before he had ever made a name for himself, Zhang Jiazhen had time to kill one day and stopped by an old fortuneteller who had "set up shop" by a busy road. The old man consulted his various charts and devices and wrote up a number of different forecasts for Zhang, sealing each one in a separate envelope.
"Don't open them all up at once," the old man said. "They're numbered. Open each one in order just before you're given a new post or assignment." He then handed Zhang all the envelopes.
So each time Zhang was ready to leave a current post, he'd open an envelope to see what was in store just before the very next time he was posted or given an assignment. Amazingly, the old man's predictions were all completely accurate. Each sealed prediction foretold a post more prestigious than the current one.
Then came a glorious job assignment that had likewise been foretold: prefect of Dingzhou, Hebei Province! What office could be higher? Yet there was one envelope left. That was forgotten in his taking office in Dingzhou.
Not long after becoming prefect, Zhang Jiazhen came down with an illness. His family members became quite anxious and urged him to go see a physician.
"Ah, think nothing of it!" said Zhang. "I'm fine and going to stay fine. I have one yet envelope to open before I retire, don't you remember? Well, seeing as how you are all worried, I'll go ahead and open the envelope now, though it's a bit early to do so."
There, standing before his loved ones, he opened the final envelope. He took out the paper. Upon it was written just one character, "kong" (i.e., "empty," "blank," etc.).
He then knew that he was at the end of the road. He died shortly after.
Notes
from Dingming lu (Records of Determined Fates) by Zhao Zidong (?); in Zhongguo qitan, pp. 42-43.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Three Contemporary Chinese Fables
(1) The Master Builder
A master builder had worked many years building houses for his employee, Mr. Li. He and his wife had talked about his retiring one day, so today he would notify Mr. Li that he would no longer be working for him or for anyone else, for that matter."
"Oh, Shifu (i.e., master, maestro), you can't be serious?" asked Mr. Li. "Is there any way I convince you to stay on, at least for one more project?"
"No, Mr. Li, my mind's made up. I've worked for you for many years, and, while I appreciate working for you and the good salary you've paid me, the time has come for me to retire. I now want to spend more time with my wife and grandchildren."
"Listen, I have just one more project coming up for you, and I really need your help! This house will be the biggest, grandest, most opulent house of all, built with only the finest redwood and marble. How could I possibly have it constructed with anyone else but you overseeing the job? Please, Shifu, don't desert me at this time!"
"Well . . . "
"No, I must really beg you to reconsider!"
The master builder sighed. "Well, all right . . . but just this one house and that's it!"
"Thank you, Shifu!"
The master builder went home to tell his wife that he would work on yet one more construction project for Mr. Li, a house which when completed would be a masterpiece.
"Oh, you foolish man!" his wife said. "You're such a walkover for others. Since you agreed, just quickly get the thing done."
"But it is to be built with the finest of materials . . . "
"Who cares! Just hurry up and build it!"
So the master builder got started on this new job which was to be his last, and, yes, he had his crew do a rather slapdash job. He was more interested in getting the job done than in doing the job well. The result--a house with many shortcomings, most of which were not immediately noticeable.
When the house was completed, Mr. Li showed up, bearing a piece of paper and some keys, which he thrust into the hands of the startled master builder.
"What's . . . all . . . this, Mr. Li?" the master builder asked.
"Surprise! These are the deed and keys to your house, Shifu! This is my gift to you and your wife upon your retirement and for your many, many years of exemplary work. May you live for many years in total comfort in this house you yourself have built!"
(2) Dogfight
A young hoodlum swaggered through a neighborhood with a large dog he had trained to be vicious. If he encountered anyone taking a dog for a walk, he'd challenge the other dog owner to let both their animals fight.
Of course one look at his snarling and snapping dog was enough to make others turn around with their own dogs and head quickly away.
So this young thug strutted through the neighborhood, acting as if he owned the place, intimidating others into keeping their dogs indoors.
Now one day he walked his dog over to a park on the edge of the neighborhood. There, he saw an old man and his dog up on a knoll, sitting under a tree. The dog under the tree was the ugliest, weirdest-looking mutt he had ever seen, with a very thick snout, surely no match for his own killer dog.
"Hey, you!" the young hoodlum cried.
The old man looked up.
"Yeah, you! Let your dog and mine fight and see which is tougher. I'll wager you my dog'll rip yours apart!"
"Let them fight, eh?"
"Yeah! C'mon!"
The old man scratched his scrawny beard. He looked at the young tough's dog, then at his own pet, and then back at the young man.
"Very well, if you want . . ."
He untied the leash from the collar of his dog as the young hoodlum did the same. Then the old man gently pushed his dog in the direction of the snarling dog now bounding up the knoll towards them.
The strange-looking dog and the hoodlum's dog crashed into each other.
It was all over in a matter of seconds.
It wasn't even close.
The young hoodlum's vicious dog had been shredded, ripped apart to its very bones. What remained of the poor dog lay in a sickening, bloody heap.
The hoodlum was shaken and dumbstruck. "Wha- . . . Wha- . . . What happened? Your dog . . . what kind of dog is that?"
The old man just shook his head as his animal came back to him and allowed itself to have its leash reattached to its collar. "I guess I can't blame you for not knowing, seeing as how I have his fur all shaved off. He's actually what you call a 'lion.' That might answer your question."
(3) Old Wang and Old Chen
Old Wang and old Chen were two neighbors in adjoining apartment units. Now the Wangs were a noisy lot, always quarreling late into the night, while the Chens were very quiet, with nary a peep ever coming from out of the walls.
None of this was lost on old Wang, who was very embarrassed at how noisily he and his wife argued. He desperately wanted to apologize to old Chen but could never seem to find the chance.
One day he spotted old Chen waiting at the elevator. He jumped at the chance to make amends and rushed to join him while waiting for the elevator car to appear.
"Mr. Chen, my old friend, I really have to apologize for the way my wife and I argue! I know we must be very noisy and have probably kept you and Mrs. Chen up late on more than one occasion. We ought to be like you and Mrs. Chen--as quiet as the grass!"
"Don't worry about it, my friend," said old Chen. "All that arguing you and your wife do only proves one thing."
"What's that?"
"That you two are good people!"
"What?! Don't you mean that you and your wife are good people?"
"No, we're not good people; we're bad."
"Oh? How so?" Now Mr. Wang was mystified.
"Well," said Chen, "it's like this. What did you say the other day when your wife sat down on your reading glasses? 'What are you, woman, blind?'" Old Wang had to wince at that. "Then," continued Chen, "what did your wife say when you spilled tea all over the carpet? 'You clumsy old fool! Are your hands made of rubber?' Do you remember that?"
"Yes," said Wang, "of course I do."
"You must both be good people because each time you scold each other, which you both frequently do, you do so as the hero, while the other is the villain, the bad person!"
"Oh . . . "
"Now my wife and I, " continued Chen, sighing, "on the other hand must be bad! We're both constantly apologizing to each other for the slightest thing! And we do many, many bad things! Why, just this morning, my wife said she was sorry for accidentally shrinking my favorite shirt in the laundry! I quickly forgave her with a smile, of course. Then, a couple of weeks ago, I had to apologize because I had forgotten to bring in the laundry! Whew, I shudder when I think about how rotten my wife and I really are!"
"Ah . . . I see . . . "
"Oh," said Mr. Chen, "the elevator's finally here. Oh, my goodness! I'm awfully sorry! After you, please!"
Notes
Special thanks to my mentors and dear friends Sue Lau, Sally Zhang, and Joseph Tu for relating these examples of modern Chinese tales to me. For more examples of contemporary Chinese legends, this time, ghost stories, see 6/15/07.
A master builder had worked many years building houses for his employee, Mr. Li. He and his wife had talked about his retiring one day, so today he would notify Mr. Li that he would no longer be working for him or for anyone else, for that matter."
"Oh, Shifu (i.e., master, maestro), you can't be serious?" asked Mr. Li. "Is there any way I convince you to stay on, at least for one more project?"
"No, Mr. Li, my mind's made up. I've worked for you for many years, and, while I appreciate working for you and the good salary you've paid me, the time has come for me to retire. I now want to spend more time with my wife and grandchildren."
"Listen, I have just one more project coming up for you, and I really need your help! This house will be the biggest, grandest, most opulent house of all, built with only the finest redwood and marble. How could I possibly have it constructed with anyone else but you overseeing the job? Please, Shifu, don't desert me at this time!"
"Well . . . "
"No, I must really beg you to reconsider!"
The master builder sighed. "Well, all right . . . but just this one house and that's it!"
"Thank you, Shifu!"
The master builder went home to tell his wife that he would work on yet one more construction project for Mr. Li, a house which when completed would be a masterpiece.
"Oh, you foolish man!" his wife said. "You're such a walkover for others. Since you agreed, just quickly get the thing done."
"But it is to be built with the finest of materials . . . "
"Who cares! Just hurry up and build it!"
So the master builder got started on this new job which was to be his last, and, yes, he had his crew do a rather slapdash job. He was more interested in getting the job done than in doing the job well. The result--a house with many shortcomings, most of which were not immediately noticeable.
When the house was completed, Mr. Li showed up, bearing a piece of paper and some keys, which he thrust into the hands of the startled master builder.
"What's . . . all . . . this, Mr. Li?" the master builder asked.
"Surprise! These are the deed and keys to your house, Shifu! This is my gift to you and your wife upon your retirement and for your many, many years of exemplary work. May you live for many years in total comfort in this house you yourself have built!"
(2) Dogfight
A young hoodlum swaggered through a neighborhood with a large dog he had trained to be vicious. If he encountered anyone taking a dog for a walk, he'd challenge the other dog owner to let both their animals fight.
Of course one look at his snarling and snapping dog was enough to make others turn around with their own dogs and head quickly away.
So this young thug strutted through the neighborhood, acting as if he owned the place, intimidating others into keeping their dogs indoors.
Now one day he walked his dog over to a park on the edge of the neighborhood. There, he saw an old man and his dog up on a knoll, sitting under a tree. The dog under the tree was the ugliest, weirdest-looking mutt he had ever seen, with a very thick snout, surely no match for his own killer dog.
"Hey, you!" the young hoodlum cried.
The old man looked up.
"Yeah, you! Let your dog and mine fight and see which is tougher. I'll wager you my dog'll rip yours apart!"
"Let them fight, eh?"
"Yeah! C'mon!"
The old man scratched his scrawny beard. He looked at the young tough's dog, then at his own pet, and then back at the young man.
"Very well, if you want . . ."
He untied the leash from the collar of his dog as the young hoodlum did the same. Then the old man gently pushed his dog in the direction of the snarling dog now bounding up the knoll towards them.
The strange-looking dog and the hoodlum's dog crashed into each other.
It was all over in a matter of seconds.
It wasn't even close.
The young hoodlum's vicious dog had been shredded, ripped apart to its very bones. What remained of the poor dog lay in a sickening, bloody heap.
The hoodlum was shaken and dumbstruck. "Wha- . . . Wha- . . . What happened? Your dog . . . what kind of dog is that?"
The old man just shook his head as his animal came back to him and allowed itself to have its leash reattached to its collar. "I guess I can't blame you for not knowing, seeing as how I have his fur all shaved off. He's actually what you call a 'lion.' That might answer your question."
(3) Old Wang and Old Chen
Old Wang and old Chen were two neighbors in adjoining apartment units. Now the Wangs were a noisy lot, always quarreling late into the night, while the Chens were very quiet, with nary a peep ever coming from out of the walls.
None of this was lost on old Wang, who was very embarrassed at how noisily he and his wife argued. He desperately wanted to apologize to old Chen but could never seem to find the chance.
One day he spotted old Chen waiting at the elevator. He jumped at the chance to make amends and rushed to join him while waiting for the elevator car to appear.
"Mr. Chen, my old friend, I really have to apologize for the way my wife and I argue! I know we must be very noisy and have probably kept you and Mrs. Chen up late on more than one occasion. We ought to be like you and Mrs. Chen--as quiet as the grass!"
"Don't worry about it, my friend," said old Chen. "All that arguing you and your wife do only proves one thing."
"What's that?"
"That you two are good people!"
"What?! Don't you mean that you and your wife are good people?"
"No, we're not good people; we're bad."
"Oh? How so?" Now Mr. Wang was mystified.
"Well," said Chen, "it's like this. What did you say the other day when your wife sat down on your reading glasses? 'What are you, woman, blind?'" Old Wang had to wince at that. "Then," continued Chen, "what did your wife say when you spilled tea all over the carpet? 'You clumsy old fool! Are your hands made of rubber?' Do you remember that?"
"Yes," said Wang, "of course I do."
"You must both be good people because each time you scold each other, which you both frequently do, you do so as the hero, while the other is the villain, the bad person!"
"Oh . . . "
"Now my wife and I, " continued Chen, sighing, "on the other hand must be bad! We're both constantly apologizing to each other for the slightest thing! And we do many, many bad things! Why, just this morning, my wife said she was sorry for accidentally shrinking my favorite shirt in the laundry! I quickly forgave her with a smile, of course. Then, a couple of weeks ago, I had to apologize because I had forgotten to bring in the laundry! Whew, I shudder when I think about how rotten my wife and I really are!"
"Ah . . . I see . . . "
"Oh," said Mr. Chen, "the elevator's finally here. Oh, my goodness! I'm awfully sorry! After you, please!"
Notes
Special thanks to my mentors and dear friends Sue Lau, Sally Zhang, and Joseph Tu for relating these examples of modern Chinese tales to me. For more examples of contemporary Chinese legends, this time, ghost stories, see 6/15/07.
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