A king had seven queens. The older queens were so arrogant their feet barely touched the ground, but the youngest queen was gentle and quiet. For this reason, the king loved her more than all the others.
For many years, however, the king had no children. He would often lament, who would inherit his vast kingdom? But one day, joy filled the palace. The youngest queen was going to have a child. The king’s happiness knew no bounds. He opened the royal treasury and made a proclamation across the land: anyone could come and take as many sweets, jewels, and precious stones as they could carry.
The older queens began to burn with jealousy.
The king fastened one end of a golden chain to his own waist and the other to the youngest queen’s. He told her:
When the child is born, give this chain a pull. I will come at once to see my heir.
With that, the king went to his royal court.
When the time for the birth arrived, the older queens said:
Ah, our dear youngest sister is having a child! Why should we send for anyone else? We will go to her ourselves.
But as soon as they entered the birthing chamber, they pulled the golden chain. The king immediately dismissed his court and rushed to the chamber, accompanied by priests and the sound of drums. But when he arrived, there was nothing. The king went back to his court.
No sooner had he sat down than the chain was pulled again. The king rushed back, only to find that it was another false alarm. Full of sorrow and anger, the king declared:
If the chain is pulled one more time before the child is actually born, I will have all of you executed!
He then stormed away.
After he left, the youngest queen gave birth to seven sons and one daughter. They were as beautiful as moon-dolls and flower buds, and their presence lit up the dark chamber as they waved their little hands and feet. The youngest queen whispered weakly:
Sisters, what beautiful children. Won’t you let me see them?
The older queens mocked her, waggling their fingers and twitching their noses.
Children? You wish! You’ve given birth to some rats and a few crabs!
Hearing this, the youngest queen fainted from shock.
The cruel older queens did not pull the chain. They quietly found some clay pots, placed the eight beautiful babies inside, and buried them in the palace ash heap. Only after this wicked deed was done did they finally pull the golden chain.
The king rushed in once more, with drums playing and priests carrying treasures. The older queens wiped their hands and faces and quickly showed him a few baby frogs and rats they had gathered.
The king became a pillar of fire. In his rage, he had the youngest queen cast out of the palace.
The older queens could not contain their smiles. The sound of their ankle bells never ceased. The thorn in their side had been removed, and the six of them settled in to live happily, filling the palace with their quarrels and schemes.
As for the poor youngest queen, her sorrow was so great it could crack stones and dry up rivers. She was forced to become a handmaiden, wandering the streets and gathering cow-dung for fuel.
And so the days passed. There was no joy in the king’s heart and no happiness in his kingdom. The palace felt empty. In the royal garden, the flowers refused to bloom, and the king could not perform his daily worship.
One day, the royal gardener came to the king.
Your Majesty, I can never find flowers for the daily prayers. But today, on the ash heap, seven Champa flowers and one Parul flower have bloomed on a new tree.
Then bring me those flowers, so I may complete my worship,
the king ordered.
The gardener went to pick the flowers. But as he approached, the Parul flower called out to the others:
Seven Champa brothers, awake!
The seven Champa flowers stirred and replied:
Why do you call, sister Parul?
The king’s gardener has come. Will you let him pick you for the offering?
The Champa flowers quickly rose higher on their branches, shaking their heads.
No, we will not be picked! We will rise a hundred leagues higher! If the king himself comes, only then will we be picked!
The gardener, stunned, dropped his basket and ran to tell the king what had happened. Astonished, the king and his entire court went to the ash heap to see for themselves.
When the king arrived and reached for the flowers, the Parul flower called out again:
Seven Champa brothers, awake!
Why do you call, sister Parul?
The king himself has come. Will you let him pick you now?
The Champa flowers replied:
No, we will not be picked! We will rise a hundred leagues higher! If the king’s eldest queen comes, only then will we be picked!
Saying this, the flowers floated even higher. The king sent for the eldest queen. She came, her ankle bells jingling, but as she reached for them, the flowers rose again.
No, we will not be picked! We will rise a hundred leagues higher! If the king’s second queen comes, only then will we be picked!
One by one, the second queen came, then the third, then the fourth, fifth, and sixth. But none could reach the flowers. The blossoms floated up until they looked like stars in the sky. The king sank to the ground, holding his head in his hands.
Finally, the flowers called down from the heavens:
No, we will not be picked! We will rise a hundred leagues higher! But if the king’s dung-gathering handmaiden comes, only then will we be picked.
A frantic search began. The king sent a royal palanquin to the fields, and the bearers brought back the youngest queen. Her hands and feet were smeared with grime, and her clothes were torn. In this state, she went to pick the flowers.
Instantly, the Champa flowers floated down from the sky, and the Parul flower joined them. As they reached her, they transformed. From within the blossoms emerged seven handsome princes and one beautiful princess. They all leaped into her arms, crying out:
Mother! Mother!
Everyone was speechless. Tears streamed down the king’s face. The older queens began to tremble with fear. The king immediately ordered them to be buried alive in a pit filled with thorns. Then, taking his seven sons, his daughter Parul, and his beloved youngest queen, he returned to the palace.
The drum of victory sounded throughout the kingdom.