It was long ago, in a kingdom ruled by a wicked king and his even more wicked queen. Together, they subjected the subjects to immense cruelty. Any slightest mistake would lead to the decapitation of soldiers. The maids and servants were always on edge, fearing that any small misstep could cost them their lives. If even a spoonful of sugar was missing or a maid glanced at the queen the wrong way, there was no escape from the wrath of the king and queen.
The fields were filled with golden waves of rice, and the forests and jungles carried the pure flow of crystal-clear streams. Despite the king’s lack of mercy, the people of the kingdom loved the land dearly.
The truth was, the king found no peace in his heart. And that’s why he treated everyone so poorly, spreading unrest everywhere. Each year would start with joy, but as the months passed, the king would sink deeper into despair. He mistreated everyone, and that sadness would eventually seep into the hearts of the kingdom’s people too.
One autumn, the king’s good days were over. One such day, the king fell terribly ill. His head throbbed with pain as if it were about to split open. He couldn’t focus on his royal duties, let alone stand properly. All he could do was scream endlessly in agony. The king’s illness seemed beyond the reach of any doctor, and with the queen’s order, every physician in the land came, but alas, none could cure the king.
And the king’s foul temper led him to execute all the physicians one by one. In no time, there were no healers left in the kingdom. Meanwhile, whispers spread among the people: “What will cure the king’s illness now?” No one really cared about the king’s condition—after all, his illness didn’t seem to concern anyone as much as it did his own. The only reason people were giving attention to him was because he was the king.
But the fact remained, all the physicians had been executed. Who would come to heal him now? Those few who had survived, too scared to act, kept away from the palace. The king’s temper was a death sentence, and who would risk their life for this tyrant? Not just physicians, but even the herbalists and sorcerers were summoned. They, too, were forced to face the king’s wrath in hopes of curing him. Some sorcerers, who knew the truth, dared to speak, but quickly refrained, fearing the king’s temper.
Eventually, a brave exorcist arrived at the king’s door. But upon meeting the king, he too began to tremble in fear. Summoning all his courage, he spoke,
“Forgive me, Your Majesty! I have never seen such a disease in my life. There could only be one reason for this illness. In your past life, you were a dog, and…”
Before he could finish his sentence, the exorcist’s head was severed by the king’s sword. Upon hearing of this, the remaining exorcists and herbalists fled the kingdom, leaving the king to his fate.
The king’s illness grew worse with each passing day. There was no relief, and days turned into weeks with no improvement. One day, a servant from the palace came to the queen with news. At the farthest end of the kingdom, atop a mountain peak, lived a great ascetic—a monk. This monk, no matter the storm or disaster, never left his ashram. The monk possessed great medicinal powers and was said to have the ability to cure ailments. Upon hearing this, the queen felt as if the sun had emerged from behind the clouds. She found hope again. She immediately sent the servant with a message to the ascetic.
However, the monk at first refused. He said,
“This king has caused harm to many people—innocent ones, who he had unjustly executed or driven out of the kingdom. I do not want to be a part of such sin by curing him.”
But the servant had been serving the monk for many years, and out of gratitude, he begged the monk to cure the king, offering his own service in exchange for the king’s life. After much hesitation, the ascetic finally agreed—but with one strange condition.
“I will not leave my ashram and go to the palace. The king himself must come here, unarmed and alone. Only if the king walks here on his own two feet to this mountaintop will I consider curing him.”
Under normal circumstances, neither the king nor the queen would have paid any attention to such a demand; in fact, they would have ordered the ascetic to be executed. But the king’s condition was so dire from his constant pain that they had no choice but to agree to the condition. With great difficulty, the king climbed to the mountaintop where the ascetic’s ashram was located. Exhausted by anger, sorrow, and thirst, the king finally met the mysterious ascetic.
As soon as he saw the meditating ascetic, the king’s rage melted away. The peaceful light emanating from the ascetic’s head left the king in awe. The ascetic opened his eyes and handed the king a vessel of pure water. Upon drinking it, the king regained his strength.
The king then sat down in peace, and the ascetic began to speak:
“King, listen carefully. As long as I speak, you must keep your eyes closed, and your breathing must be slow. Your illness is not a physical ailment, but the consequence of your actions in a past life. The accounts of your previous life are still pending, which is why you are enduring such suffering.”
Long, long ago, there was a kingdom in the north where you were born as a dog. In that kingdom, there lived a beautiful girl named Nirang. Even though you were a dog, you were captivated by her beauty—you fell in love with her. Wherever she went, you followed. Your job was to follow her wherever she went. Nirang also cared for you, bringing you to her home, feeding and taking care of you. Her heart was full of kindness.
But you weren’t the only one enchanted by Nirang’s beauty; everyone around was equally smitten. They grew envious and resentful, thinking to themselves,
“Ah! If only I were a dog, too!”
Nirang, however, remained unaffected by their jealousy. She continued with her daily routines—working at home, wandering through the woods, bathing in the spring, and spending her days with you.
Over time, rumors began to spread. People started whispering,
“Has Nirang married that dog?” What started as a joke soon made it difficult for Nirang to even step outside. Whenever someone saw her, they pointed fingers and called her “the dog’s wife.”
You, too, were with her every day of the week.
Hearing these comments, Nirang’s feelings began to change. She still had affection for you, but she also started to feel anger. After all, because of you, she was living in this kind of prison. One day, Nirang came up with a plan. She decided that, no matter what, she had to free herself from you. Living in such a way, being known as ‘the dog’s wife,’ was something she could no longer tolerate.
The ascetic paused, and the king opened his eyes. The ascetic then said to him,
“Drink another bowl of water. Do you want to know how Nirang freed herself from you? Why does your headache worsen every autumn and winter? Then sit calmly.”
The ascetic began his story once again.
“To escape the shame of being called the ‘dog’s wife,’ Nirang took you to the place where she had first found you. But it was of no use. You still managed to find your way to her house. Then she thought, if she took you far away from the village, you might not find your way back. Nirang took you along a mountain path, winding through rocky ravines. But you were no fool. You left your traces on the path. The next day, after she had abandoned you in the dense forest, you followed your own tracks back to Nirang’s house. The villagers continued to gossip about Nirang, and her behavior towards you grew harsher. But you were a dog—nothing much bothered you. One night she would scold you, and the next morning, she would feed you with affection, and you would be happy again.
One morning, Nirang fed you well and then took you for a walk to the highest peak of the mountain. She ran ahead of you, reaching the summit, and stretched her arms out to call you. You, overjoyed, ran up after her. And in an instant, Nirang stepped aside. You ran and collided forcefully with a large rock. Tumbling down the side of the mountain, Nirang watched with tears in her eyes. This was not the outcome she wanted for you, but there had been no easier way for her. The summit was secluded, no one came here, and it was the only place she could free herself from you.”
“Many, many years have passed since then. Where you died, there grew a strange tree. In that tree lived an evil witch, whose only task was to trap the soul of anyone she could find, whether human or dog, and keep it in her bag. These souls were her playthings. Whenever she pleased, she would take them out and toy with them. Your soul, too, has been with the witch all this time. Year after year has passed, and you have transformed from a dog to a king. But still, your soul remains trapped. That’s why whenever the witch takes your soul out of the bag, your headache begins.”
The king listened silently for a long time. After the story ended, he was so shocked that at first, he couldn’t say anything. His soul trapped by the evil witch? Where was that tree? What was the solution? His mind swirled with many questions. In an instant, the king forgot the peaceful and serene nature of the sage, and in a fit of rage, he shouted,
“Sage! No matter what, you must find a solution for this. Otherwise, your head will be on the line!”
The king hissed in anger. The sage smiled faintly and replied,
“It is my duty to pray for the healing of the patient. I will do what is required.”
But how? First, the queen and all the ministers were carefully explained to and sent back to the royal palace. Then, the king and the sage sat down together to devise a plan. After that, the two of them, along with one of the king’s favorite sailors, set off for the northern land—the place where the king’s soul was imprisoned.
At the start of their journey, the sage warned the king:
“If you come across any river or water body, never spit in it. And under no circumstances should you dishonor anyone.”
But could the king, so used to defying orders, follow this advice? He disobeyed. And as fate would have it, he received the punishment for it. But that’s another story.
In fact, the king loved betel leaf very much. As soon as he boarded the boat, he began chewing betel. And as the boat moved forward, the waves grew stronger. In the midst of one such wave, the king spat out a red betel juice. The red juice sank into the water, deep into the kingdom of water nymphs.
At that moment, the kingdom’s princess was sitting and sewing. When the betel juice touched her thread, she was thrilled by the red color it created. Immediately, she went to her father and made a request:
“Whoever has given such a red color, I want to tame that creature!”
Meanwhile, the small group of the king, the sage, and the sailor reached the edge of the river, at the edge of the forest. The path through the forest was steep. At the beginning of the forest stood a tall tree with a small hut perched at its top. They climbed up the steep path, and as they entered the hut, it felt like they had stepped into a labyrinth unlike anything they had ever seen before!
The king, in his usual manner, shouted loudly. His shout was met by the appearance of a stunningly beautiful woman. At first, she wasn’t particularly pleased to see them, but after hearing their story, she agreed to help them. She offered them hospitality without any hesitation. After a meal, when the king asked for her name, she replied,
“People call me Nirong.”
This was the name! This was the woman! The king’s eyes rose to the heavens. Looking at Nirong, he still felt there was no pair of eyes more beautiful in the world. Upon hearing Nirong’s identity, the king revealed everything that the sage had told him. Nirong replied,
“The path to liberation is right ahead.”
The next day, they all set off toward the mountaintop. The tree where the witch had lived was so tall that its top seemed unreachable. Many stories circulated about the witch. It was said that she carried a large bag, which she took everywhere, wandering through forests and desolate lands.
As they entered the witch’s territory in the forest, the air was filled with her loud, eerie laughter. Following the sound of her laughter, they reached the river, where they finally encountered the witch. She seemed to have a history with Nirong, as they appeared to know each other. The witch, skilled in her own magic, smiled and said to Nirong,
“You seem quite pleased today!”
The witch replied,
“Wouldn’t I be happy? I’ve received news from far away that you all are coming.”
With that, she bared her sharp teeth and looked at them. The shadow of her thick black hair seemed to darken the surroundings, as if a storm had gathered. Nirong asked the witch for the king’s soul. But the witch wasn’t about to give up the soul so easily.
Nirong, however, was no less. The two of them then began a fierce battle of magic. One would cast a spell, and the other would trap it with a counter-spell. After a long struggle, the witch finally conceded. But she agreed to return the king’s soul on one condition.
“I can give you your king’s soul,” the witch said, “but only if he does not wish to return, once he finds the way back.”
Once they left the forest, there was no turning back—this was the only condition. Always difficult to hear the king’s words, Nirong took the soul back and, bidding farewell to the jungle, left with the king, the monk, and the sailor.
But that very river, the kingdom below the waters—there, a decree had been issued in the king’s name. The princess wanted a new pet, the one who held the red thread of the loom!
A boat floated on the river. After a while, the king looked back and saw a huge wave rushing towards him, ready to carry him away. The king realized that there was no escape from his fate. The massive wave came and swept the wicked king away, taking him to the underwater princess, where he became her new pet ‘dog.’
Meanwhile, the queen was imprisoned, and the people of the kingdom, now free from the tyrannical reign, sailed on the sea of happiness. After all, no one wanted such a wicked king and queen!