The Girl Who had Seven Brothers

Long, long ago there was a large house in which lived seven brothers and their seven wives. The brothers had a young sister who shared their lodging and upon whom they doted. She was fifteen, and had long, black wavy hair, soft doe-like eyes, a small rosebud mouth and an infectious, lilting laugh. The brothers knew that it was time they arranged a marriage for their sister as she was now of age, but they hated the thought of parting with her, so whenever their wives began a discussion about her age and marital prospects, they successfully changed the subject.

When she was sixteen, the brothers, pushed and nagged by their wives, reluctantly agreed to arrange the marriage of their sister. They knew of a rich landowner who lived two hundred miles to the East and who was reputed to be young and handsome. So they sent their sister’s horoscope to him, agreed a match, and one brisk winter day, married their sister to this handsome youth.

As the days went by, the brothers began to miss their sister very much. Whenever they got too depressed, they would console themselves by telling each other that she was, after all, very much in love with her husband and that the match had worked out better than their own marriages and that her happiness was all that should matter.

Ten months passed without the brothers seeing their sister. Even though she wrote to them regularly, they missed her laughter and her gaiety. So they sent her an invitation to come with her husband and celebrate Karvachauth with them.

The big house was cleaned and decorated for the festival. The ladies started their fast and cooked the fritters, and the brothers stood near the front door waiting for their sister to arrive.

Their sister and her husband arrived around noon, on the day of Karvachauth. Although she still laughed and joked as she used to, the brothers were quick to notice that her face had an unusual pallor and that there were dark circles under her eyes. When they asked her about this she answered, ‘Oh, it was such a long journey. We had intended to spend the night in a village along the way, but were so afraid of not being here in time, that we kept riding through the night. We have not slept, that’s all. Besides, I’m fasting, as you know.’ It was the truth but the overanxious brothers kept worrying. ‘Perhaps you should eat,’ they said, ‘you look really ill.’ ‘Don’t be silly,’ she answered, ‘this is my first Karvachauth and I intend to keep the fast.’ She looked so lovingly at her husband as she said this, that the brothers were forced to be quiet.

As the day wore on, the sister grew weaker. The brothers again suggested that she should eat and again she smiled and tossed her head saying, ‘Certainly not.’

Night fell. The brothers scanned the skies for the moon but it was nowhere in sight. They went to their sister and said, ‘The moon is out but there is a dark covering of clouds over it, so it cannot be seen. It is perfectly all right to eat now.’ The sister looked out of the window and seeing no moon, said, ‘I will eat only when I see the moon.’

Time passed and the sister lay weakly on a cot. The brothers could stand it no longer, so they devised a plan. One of them climbed a tall tree with an oil lamp in his hand. The others went into the kitchen and got a sieve, then they called their sister outdoors, crying, ‘The moon is out, the moon is out.’ They asked their sister to look through the sieve at the oil lamp on the tree-top. The poor girl, in her weakened condition, looked up at the tree and did indeed think she was seeing the moon. The brothers brought her some milk and some fritters which she ate thankfully. She then went indoors and told her sisters-in-law to eat as the moon was out. But they all looked at her coldly and said, ‘Your moon may be out but ours is not.’ At this, the girl became suspicious. She ran, stumbling, to the room where her husband was, only to find him lying dead on the floor. She screamed and wept and pleaded with the nine Earth Mothers, the goddesses of Karvachauth, to return her husband’s life, but it was of no avail. The brothers, stricken with guilt, tried to console her but she pushed them away, crying, ‘I will carry my husband into the forest. There I will sit with his body for twelve full months. Next year, when the nine goddesses of Karvachauth pass through again, I will beg them to give life back to my husband.’ So saying, she summoned all her energy and carried her husband’s body deep into the forest. There, she sat with it in her lap for exactly one year.

The following year, on the day of Karvachauth, the first of the Earth Mothers appeared before the sister, dressed in pink and silver and wearing a big pearl nose-ring. Her face gleamed with beauty like the moon. As she approached the weeping girl, she said,

‘O sister of seven brothers,

You couldn’t stay hungry

And you couldn’t stay thirsty.

Come give me your Karva pot.’

The weeping girl looked up at this radiant apparition and cried, ‘Please don’t say that. Instead, give life to my husband and say what you are supposed to say, which is – O happily married woman, take my Karva pot and give me yours.’ But the first goddess only shook her head, saying, ‘I cannot do as you ask. But my sister will be passing through soon. Speak to her.’

The girl waited and soon the second goddess came. She was dressed in green and gold and wore an emerald nose-ring. She was not as beautiful as the first goddess, as her eyes looked like those of a fox. She said,

‘O sister of seven brothers,

You couldn’t stay hungry

And you couldn’t stay thirsty.

Come give me your Karva pot.’

The girl wailed, ‘Please don’t say that. Instead, say what you are supposed to say, which is – O happily married woman, take my Karva pot and give me yours.’ The second goddess shook her head, saying, ‘I cannot do as you ask. But my sister will be passing through soon. Speak to her.’

Soon, the third goddess came. She wore yellow and had the face of a rat. Her words were the same as her sisters’. The fourth goddess wore purple and had the face of a toad; the fifth goddess wore red and had the face of a bat; the sixth goddess wore blue and had the face of a lizard; the seventh goddess wore grey and had the face of a scorpion; the eighth goddess wore black and had the face of a snake. Each goddess refused to help the poor girl and referred her to her next sister.

The girl was moaning desperately now. She heard a jingling of bells in the forest and was sure the last Earth Mother was at hand. Suddenly, from behind her, a most hideous apparition leaped out. It looked like nothing she had seen even in her worst nightmares. The creature had one eye placed haphazardly on a triangular face. The rest of the face consisted of puffy green cheeks and nine sharp, curved fangs. The body, looking more like a misshapen lump, was balanced on two webbed feet which were engaged in some gruesome dance round and round the poor girl who still sat with her husband’s body in her lap. This horrible creature laughed and screeched and began the familiar chant,

‘O sister of seven brothers,

You couldn’t stay hungry

And you couldn’t …’

But the girl did not let her finish. She clung to those ugly feet, wailing, ‘I won’t let you go until you give life to my husband and say what you are supposed to say, which is – O happily married woman, take my Karva pot and give me yours.’

The ninth goddess tried to pull her feet away, but the girl held on, sobbing and beating her head against the ground. Finally, the goddess, touched by the girl’s determination, relented and said, ‘Let it be as you ask.’

There was a flash of lightning. The ugly creature had vanished and in its place stood the dazzling first goddess in pink and silver. She restored the girl’s husband back to life, saying, ‘Come, exchange Karva pots with me.’

The two women sat opposite each other and as one said, ‘O happily married woman, take my Karva pot,’ the other answered with, ‘O happily married woman, give me your Karva pot.’ They said this again and again, nine times over.

Then the goddess got up to leave. As she left, she warned, ‘If you want your husband to stay alive, then every year, on the day of Karvachauth, you must fast from sunrise until the moon appears – and remember to pray to the nine Earth Mothers.’ So saying, she disappeared into the darkness of the forest …