A stream in the Chinnar Wildlife Sanctuary, Kerala. Clearing a stream choked by sticks and leaves was one of Peasie’s little acts of kindness on her way to see her aged father.
Part 1 of 3
‘LET’S go and visit Father!’ said Peasie to her elder sister Beansie one day. ‘It must be dull, to be left at home while our brother brings the harvest in.’ But Beansie was scornful. ‘I’m not going to traipse about in this heat,’ she declared, ‘to please an old man!’ So Peasie went alone.
Peasie’s father was overjoyed to see her. ‘But you are wet and scratched!’ he cried. ‘Why is there ash in your hair, and where is your veil?’ Peasie told him that a wild plum tree had asked her to tidy up his tangle of thorns. Then a roadside fire begged to have his ashes raked out. She had bandaged a fig tree’s broken branch with her veil, and she was wet from clearing a stream clogged by sticks and leaves.
When evening came, her father reluctantly sent Peasie home. With her went a buffalo laden with gifts, including a spinning wheel, various pots and pans, and even a bed. She looked like a new bride.
Part Two
A sarpatti, an ornament worn on the turban, from Pratapgarh in Rajasthan, dating back to around 1850. It is made of gold and gold foil over silver, green glass and green and orange enamel, with rock crystal insets and pendant pearls with emeralds. Peasie was lucky enough to find such an ornament snagged on the sacred fig tree as a reward for her nursing.
ON the way home, Peasie added to her spoils. The little stream, now bubbling happily, brought her a web of fine cloth. On the fig tree she found waiting a rope of pearls, snagged from the turban of a passing prince. The bright little fire had baked hot cakes for her (‘Take them, Peasie’ it crackled pleasantly), and the plum tree bent its branches low so Peasie could pick all she wanted.
She shared the plums and hotcakes with her sister, but Beansie was sulky. ‘I’m sure’ suggested Peasie soothingly ‘that father would do as much for you.’ Beansie brightened at that; and next morning she hurried off along the road to her father’s house.
As she went, a plum tree asked her to tidy up his thorns; a roadside fire begged to be raked out; a fig complained of a broken branch; and a stream clogged by leaves and sticks wanted clearing out. ‘Every one for herself!’ was her only reply. ‘I won’t stay to help those who won’t help themselves.’
Part Three
A water buffalo in Varanasi, Utter Pradesh, India. The buffalo is used much as the ox is used, for ploughing and transportation. Beansie wasn’t the only one irritated to find that her father had given such a valuable present to Peasie: the girls’ brother and sister-in-law weren’t much pleased either.
BUT when her brother saw her he cried, ‘Be off! Your sister has already carried away half the house; you will get no more from us!’ Much vexed, Beansie turned for home.
She consoled herself by remembering how Peasie found fine cloth in the little stream, and — there it was again! Her fingers were almost on it when the current twitched it away, and all she got was a ducking. She spied a rope of pearls just like Peasie’s snagged on the fig tree, but as she climbed up excitedly she grabbed the broken branch, and fell to earth with a bump. A hot cake on the little fire’s girdle was a welcome sight, but it was so hot she dropped it, and a cow ate it. Her thoughts turned to the plums, but the branches were stubbornly high and she got nothing but scratches.
So Beansie came home wet, sore, hungry and worst of all, empty handed. No doubt her kind sister Peasie gave her a nice hot supper, and put her to bed.
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