Tales from India: Spirit Boy and Slave Master

Karim Giblett By Karim Giblett, 28th Mar 2012 | Follow this author | RSS Feed
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>Short Stories

A tale of a farmer who pulled a spirits hair and was so bound to a curse

Tales from India

A long time ago in india the land of elephants and jungles, there was once many kingdoms each one veying for power. Each one seeking glory and fame. This was a time of honesty, kings and when the world was filled with mysteries...Many people would make their legacy in the sands of time and this is one of there stories...

The Spirit Boy

This story does not reach back as far as many tales and has its origins in a tale told by my very grandmother to me. This is a the tale of a boy, the boy is an indian fair brown skined child with a bald head that had no hair with the exception of one poney tail of hair prodruding from the back of the boys head.
The boy to anyone would look akin to a Braman Monk, a wealthy child robed in fine white one peace robs.
The Child was spotted one day sitting near a mango tree when my very ancestor saw him, she was with her mother and she was a child, her instinct was to play with the child and introduce herself but the mother sensed something was amiss and grasped the childs hand firmly and forbade her from aproaching the child and then they Hurried home and whilst at home the child asked about the boy and the mother sat her down and told her the very same story I am telling you.
Before we partake on this tale please remember that to the very best of my knowlegde these people are real and their discendants are alive today so please show some respect if thinking bad about the events that follow as the what might seem crewel now at the time would have seemed like a very good idea and we often dont think when magical fortune falls in our laps dispite the concequenses.
Now that that you are utterly warned our tale begins...

The Farmer

In the tale end of the British empire in the mango groves of india where huge feilds of wheat and maze cane be grown and the edges of the Mango groves and jungles was a farmer.
The farmer was a tall and skinny man more skin to a toothpick then a human and his skin hard turned a hard dark brown from a lifetime of struggle in the sun.
His physic was that of a tall frail man but his tall form belyed the strength and muscles in his arms that was unusual in the form of a man that shape and he had allways spent too long in the baking sun.
He had been a father and now his children who had once helped him with the farm had all but gone to find their fortune in the cities working for the Empiries companies.
The life of a farmer was a hard one especially in India where the sun baked down upon you like a roasting oven in mid day and he often had to come inside to the shelter of his mud house and take a mid day rest from the heat.
As the old indian saying goes it was only the crazy British whiteman and his dog that dared venture outside in the blazing mid day sun and it was true, the British were prone to playing cricket and having high tea in the mid day sun when the smarter indian man knew not to tangle with the suns blazing heat.
Then there was the jungle animals, tigers beasts larger then a man and cunning too, their strips and orange fur made them blend into the tropical jungles like phantoms in the night.

The Spirit

One day on his way into town he was on his cart with his vegitables when he saw a child sitting next to a mango tree. At first he thought it was the preist Braman child of an upper class family.
He ignored the child and went into the market. He spent the day trading goods and then came out of the market at sunset and as he was comming home he notices that the childs feet were somehow going into the ground as though it was a spirit.
He then saw the small poneytail of hair comeing out of the back of the childs head like a small tail and then the man realised that the child was not a child but a spirit boy he had heard of.
A being that was magical and could move like a real being in the real world and yet was more magic then flesh.
The man smiled and he saw an opertunity so he turned the cart around and slowly got out of the cart and snuck up behind the child and then in one swift movement that would only have been possible because he was a swift farmer he snatched the boys poneytale and like some clip on object the poneytail came straight off...

The Slave

Hair in hand the farmer stood up and watched in awe as the child calmly turned and looked at him and then the hair and then it stood up and bowed.
"Master what is your wish?" the child said, its voice soft
'you are my spirit slave now, bound to my will and you shall work the farm day and night without rest can you do that?' he asked
"I am a spirit I need not rest, I shall do your bidding" the boy said almost cursing him.
And so it began the man put the boy to work and the boy worked and excelled in every task, where a man would need sleep and rest the boy needed none. Where a man could not work in the roasting mid day sun the boy could work and soon the farmer became very wealthy and was buying the nearby land and going on long holidays across india and the china.
But little did the man know that every night while he slept the spirit boy would search the house for his missing hair.


It took many years but the spirit boy eventually found the hair, it was hidden inside a pale of hay and at once the boy returned the missing hair to his head and his power was returned.
The boy stormed into the house and strange energy eminated from the walls and struck fear into the heart of the farmer who had now become a slave master. The boy spoke in a voice not soft but harsh like a vicious tigeress defending its cubs.
"for your crimes you and your bloodline shall make an offering once a year to the nearby temple to pay for your crimes" and with that the boy vanished and marked the image of the temple where the man is to make offering every year on that day forever in his mind.
To this very day the mans discendants still make offerings once a year to that temple and they all know the tale of the boy with the tuft of hair and to never ever touch it!

My Tale

I had been told this story as a child and knew not to cross my grandmothers words for she was the very child who say that being purched next to the mango tree but I had allways taken the tale with a pintch of salt.
Then one day I was in india with my family, we were touring by car and we happened to stop over in this remote town in the middle of nowhere and we were taking photoes while we rested from hours of car ride.
As we had a snack and prepaired to continue the journey this boy comes up to me, he was light brown skinned and had a bald head with one poney tale of hair out of the back of his head and fine white silk robes.
"hello sir can I have a donation?" the indian boy says in a perfect way, he spoke english, now this was a boy in a small town where usualy no one speeks english and he spoke with no indian accent and said each word perfectly.
I did not even speek I simply turned and ran for I knew not to mess with them. So if you ever find yourself in rural india and a pale brown skinned child with a poneytale walks upto you and speeks perfect english "DO NOT PULL THEIR HAIR!!!" and simply...run

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author avatar cnwriter..carolina
29th Mar 2012 (#)

this is lovely Kalegan thank you...

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author avatar Ivyevelyn, R.S.A.
1st Apr 2012 (#)

Thank you, Kalegan. You tell your stories very well. They are delightful to read.

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