A prince and a shepherd boy were the best of friends. The prince made a solemn promise that when he became king, he would make his shepherd friend his royal minister.
I agree,
said the shepherd.
And so they lived in blissful friendship. The shepherd would graze his cattle in the fields, and then the two friends would sit together under a tree, arm in arm. The shepherd would play his flute, and the prince would listen.
In time, the prince became king. With his beautiful queen, Kanchonmala, and a treasury overflowing with jewels, the new king thought, who was some shepherd boy to be his friend? The king forgot all about the shepherd and the promise he had made.
One day, the shepherd appeared at the palace gate, hoping for a glimpse of his friend, the king. But the guards turned him away with insults. Heartbroken, the shepherd vanished, and no one knew where he went.
The very next morning, the king awoke but could not open his eyes. The queen and the entire court saw in horror that the king’s face was covered in needles. His whole body, even his hair, had turned into sharp, piercing needles. A great cry of sorrow went up in the palace. The king could not eat, he could not sleep, he could not even speak. In his silent suffering, he knew what had happened. He had broken his promise to his shepherd friend, and this affliction was his punishment. But he could not tell this to anyone.
With the Needle-King unable to rule, the kingdom fell into chaos. The king sat day after day with his head bowed in misery, while Queen Kanchonmala struggled to manage the affairs of the state as best she could.
One day, as the queen was bathing at the river, a stunningly beautiful girl approached her and said:
If the queen wishes to buy a handmaiden, I will be her handmaiden.
The queen replied:
I will buy a handmaiden only if you can remove the needles from the Needle-King.
The girl agreed. And so, the queen gave the girl one of her golden bracelets, a kankon, and purchased her as a handmaiden. The girl, now named Kakonmala, said:
My queen, you look so weary. Your jewelry is loose, and your hair is matted. You must not be eating or bathing properly. Let me help you. Take off your jewels, and I will give you a proper bath with cleansing herbs.
No, child, what is the point of bathing now? Let it be,
the queen said sadly.
But Kakonmala insisted. She removed the queen’s jewelry and rubbed her skin with herbs.
Now, my queen, dip your head under the water,
she said.
The queen waded into the neck-deep water and submerged herself. In the blink of an eye, Kakonmala put on the queen’s royal clothes and jewels. Standing on the riverbank, she called out mockingly:
Oh handmaiden, my handmaiden, where is my betel nut box? The new queen is here on the ghat! The king’s true queen is Kakonmala! How long will you stay underwater?
When Kanchonmala rose from the water, she saw that the handmaiden had become the queen, and she was now the handmaiden. Striking her forehead in despair, she followed the false queen Kakonmala back to the palace, shivering in her wet clothes.
Back at the palace, Kakonmala turned everything upside down. She berated the minister:
I return from my bath, and you have not prepared the elephants and horses?
She screamed at an attendant:
You knew I was coming, why was my palanquin not sent?
The minister and the attendant were both executed. A wave of terror swept through the court. Kakonmala sat on the throne as the queen, and Kanchonmala, the true queen, was forced to live as her handmaiden. The Needle-King, trapped in his own body, knew nothing of the switch.
Kanchonmala was sent to the scullery, where she would clean fish and weep:
With my own bracelet I bought a handmaiden, and she became the queen while I became the servant. For what sin was the golden king’s kingdom ruined? For what sin was the fate of Kanchonmala shattered?
The king’s suffering knew no end. His body stung constantly from the needles, and flies buzzed around him, but there was no one to soothe his pain or give him medicine.
One day, Kanchonmala went to the river to wash some rough clothes. There she saw a man sitting under a tree with a large bundle of thread. He was chanting to himself:
If I get a thousand needles, I’ll eat a watermelon! If I get five thousand needles, I’ll go to the market! If I get a hundred thousand—then I will have a kingdom!
Hearing this, the queen slowly approached him.
Sir, you are looking for needles? I can give them to you. But will you be able to pull them out?
The man quietly gathered his bundle of thread and followed her.
On the way to the palace, Kanchonmala told the man the entire story of her sorrow. After listening, the man simply said:
I see.
When they reached the palace, the man went to the false queen.
Oh Queen, today is the festival of Pitha-Kuduli, a day when special cakes must be shared throughout the kingdom. I will dye the threads for the ceremony red and blue. You can prepare the sacred alpana floor paintings in the courtyard. Let the handmaiden do the other chores.
Kakonmala, overjoyed at the chance to act like a queen, declared:
Why should that be? So what if she is a handmaiden, she can make the cakes too!
And so both women set to work. But what a difference! The cakes made by Kakonmala were crude, lumpy, and ugly. The handmaiden, Kanchonmala, however, crafted beautiful and intricate sweets: moon-shaped crescents, sweet flutes, and milk-swirls. The man saw this and knew who the true queen was.
Next, the two went to make the alpana paintings. The false queen, Kakonmala, mixed a huge bowl of rice paste and, using a rough jute brush, slopped it all over the courtyard. But the handmaiden, Kanchonmala, cleaned a small corner of the courtyard and, with a tiny bit of rice paste and a small cloth, delicately drew lotus vines, seven golden pitchers, stalks of rice, peacocks, dolls, and the sacred footprints of the goddess Lakshmi.
The man then turned to Kakonmala and shouted:
You wretch! With a face like that, you pretend to be queen? You treacherous handmaiden bought with a bracelet! She became the queen, and the queen became the servant! If you know what’s good for you, tell the truth now!
A fire of rage burned in Kakonmala’s eyes.
Who are you, you wretch? Get out! Get out!
She called for the royal executioner.
Take the head of this handmaiden and this homeless fool! I will bathe in their blood! Then you will know my name is Kakonmala!
The executioner came and seized Kanchonmala and the man. But the man opened his bundle of thread and chanted:
Thread, oh thread, so nimble and neat! Thread, oh thread, of lemon so sweet! Go bind the executioner, from his head to his feet!
A length of thread flew out and tied the executioner up completely. The man chanted again:
Thread, to whom do you belong? To whomever owns the bundle, replied the thread. Then if you serve me true, go and block Kakonmala’s nose for you!
Two balls of thread shot out and lodged themselves in Kakonmala’s nostrils. In a panic, she ran to her room screaming, “Lock the door, lock the door! The madman has brought a mad servant with him!”
The man, who was the shepherd friend, then began his final chant:
Thread, oh thread, so slender and fine, in what land is your home? Go find the needles on the Needle-King and make each one your own!
In an instant, a hundred thousand threads streamed through the air and threaded themselves into the hundred thousand needles covering the king’s body.
Then the needles spoke as one:
We are the soul of the thread, sewn and sewn. What design shall we make?
The man commanded:
The eyes and face of the treacherous handmaiden, Kakonmala!
The hundred thousand needles flew from the king’s body and stitched themselves into the eyes and face of Kakonmala, who writhed in agony and died.
The king opened his eyes and saw him—his shepherd friend.
The king and the shepherd embraced, weeping with joy.
My friend, do not blame me for my fault. Even with a hundred lifetimes of penance, I could never find a friend like you. From this day on, you are my minister. I suffered so much without you; I will never let you go again.
I agree. But I have the flute I used to have. You must get me a new one!
said the shepherd.
The king had a magnificent flute made of pure gold created for his friend. Queen Kanchonmala’s suffering was finally over.
From then on, the shepherd served as the royal minister during the day. And at night, when the sky was full of moonlight, he would take the king to the riverbank, and they would sit together under that same old tree, where he would play his golden flute. The king would listen, arm in arm with his minister and friend. And the king, the shepherd, and Queen Kanchonmala lived their days in happiness.