Week 3 Storytelling: Prince Rama and the Rakshasa King

Once upon a time...

 ...in the exotic, wild land of India there lived a rakshasa named Ravana. The rakshasas were strong, brave, and had many special powers, but none was as brave or as strong or as powerful as Ravana. He fought many battles, never losing, and grew stronger and stronger. He unlocked the secrets to many rare skills and divine powers. Soon, none could stand in his way, and Ravana became the king of the rakshasas.

Soon, however, Ravana's great power kindled pride and arrogance within his heart. He spent all his waking hours training and fighting to increase his strength, or plotting what battles he would wage next. He became a mighty and fearsome creature, with ten heads and twenty arms which were all invincible to any attack.

Ravana, by Anant Shivaji Desair: Source

Throughout the land, legends of Ravana's might sparked fear in men's hearts, but none had the courage to challenge him. Then, Ravana crossed the line.

There was a great and noble prince named Rama, who had been banished from his kingdom by his evil stepmother Kaikeyi and was now living in the forests, kept company by the woodland creatures and spirits, as well as his faithful brother Lakshmana and his beautiful wife Sita.

One day, Ravana heard of Princess Sita's incomparable beauty, and vowed that he would steal her away to be his own bride. He succeeded in capturing the princess and spirited her away to be locked up in his own gardens of pleasure.

Prince Rama would not stand for this. "I must save my beautiful princess!" he cried. "But, oh, how am I ever to find her?"

Rama and Lakshmana searched far and wide, but could not find poor Sita. They were about to lose hope, but they soon encountered friends of the forest who helped them find their way. The great monkey king Sugreeva, his companion Hanuman, and their monkey army joined the search for Sita; the giant bird of the forest Sampati helped them find their way; and all the woodland creatures came together to build a bridge across the ocean to the island Lanka, where Ravana hid with Sita in his lair.

Rama and his monkey friends stormed into Lanka and a great battle ensued. After much fighting, it came down to a contest between Rama and the terrible King Ravana himself. It was a thrilling and perilous match. Rama skillfully shot his arrows, but they never seemed to harm the great demon. Rama sliced away the beast's heads, but to his dismay they grew back! Ravana hurled fiery weapons of demonic power at Rama. It seemed the duel would go on and on.

Finally, in a moment of divine inspiration, Rama drew upon his greatest weapon. It was imbibed with godly power, and when used by a great and noble warrior it could not miss its mark. Rama aimed, fired, and behold! - Ravana fell.

Rama and Lakshmana attack Ravana: Source

Rama approached the great dying demon. "Aargh! No! I am invincible!" Ravana struggled where he had fallen. "How can this be?"

Rama, looking down with compassion upon this poor, twisted soul, said, "Alas, great Ravana, your strength is great and your powers unmatched. You fortified every muscle and shielded all your flesh - but you forgot to strengthen your heart."

King Ravana, in his final moments, seemed to understand his error and Rama's saving goodness against the evil he had become. In peace he departed from this earth, and his armies surrendered.

Sita ran joyfully from her prison and into Rama's waiting arms....


... and they lived happily ever after.


Author's Note:

For this story, I chose to give a brief summary of the main story of the battle between good and evil in the Ramayana. I presented this retelling in the style of a classic fairy tale, a children's bedtime story. The overall theme of the Ramayana - good triumphing over evil - perfectly fits into this category, and is easily told in a way that seems like a familiar Western fairy tale. Of course, the other huge theme of the Ramayana is the love story between Rama and Sita. This would also fit well into a classic prince-saves-the-princess mold, but I chose to focus on the struggle between Rama and Ravana in this story to really do it justice.

Although this serves as a concise retelling of the entire battle between good and evil in the Ramayana, I was particularly inspired by Rama's final battle with Ravana. I was struck by the symbolism of Ravana's heart being his one point of weakness. I chose to emphasize this metaphor in my retelling, for I think it is a beautiful representation of the moral message of the story.  Also, the simple yet powerful imagery reminded me of familiar Western children's tales, so it fit well with my style of storytelling.


Source:  Narayan, R. K. (1972) The Ramayana

Week 6 Storytelling: A Squirrel's Tale

In a great, towering tree in an ancient forest there lived an old squirrel. He kept a quiet, peaceful home, spending his day methodically gathering nuts to store up for the winter. He had few neighbors. Other squirrels flocked to a sunnier part of the woods, scrambling over one another for the best morsels and filling the woods with their chattering and rustling, but this squirrel was content to stay in his secluded little nest. He had had enough excitement for a lifetime. 

One day, high-pitched squeaks and squeals broke the silence of his cloister – his grand-pups had come to visit. The youngsters bounded up the trail, their parents lagging behind. “Grampa, grampa!” They scurried up into the boughs of the tree and gathered around their grandfather. “Mama says you’ll tell us a story!” 

“Oh?” he smiled. He wasn’t much of one for chatting, but he could never resist those fuzzy little faces. “Which one shall we hear this time? The Squirrel who Saved the Monkey King? Or how about The Squirrels on Moving Mountain?” 

“No, Mama says you have a different story.” 

“A new one.”

“Yeah!” 

Finally, their mother caught up. “I told them it was time to hear the story of 'The Squirrel who Built the Lanka Bridge'”. 

“Ah,” the old squirrel settled in. “Now there is a story. Gather round, pups, and listen closely. This is a true story about the squirrel who built the Lanka Bridge – and that squirrel was me.” 

The pups all drew closer and gazed at their grandfather with wide, shining eyes. All was silent and still as the old squirrel told his tale: 

Well, a long time ago, when I was just a young pup like you, some very strange creatures came to our part of the forest. They were very bad creatures, always crashing about the forest, fighting and causing harm to others. They were like men – I’ve told you stories of men – but different. They were horrible and fearsome to look at. Some had horns, or claws, or great pointed fangs. Some were giants. And some even had too many heads. 

These creatures were called rakshasas, and the squirrels weren’t the only ones who wished them gone. Word traveled through the trees that a band of humans, accompanied by some very strange animals that walked on two legs and even talked like men, was in pursuit of these rakshasas. Their journey led them right to the coast, where Lanka Bridge now stands. Only, there was no Lanka Bridge back then – just empty sea. 

I was a youthful, curious lad then, so naturally I followed the humans. There was one in particular – he seemed to be their leader. They called him Rama. Now, pups, you all know that squirrels and humans generally don’t mix, but I can tell you that as soon as I laid eyes upon this man, I felt a deep awe and devotion to him. I cannot explain it, but I was sure I was in the presence of the Great God himself, he who pulls the leaves from their winter slumber and sends acorns raining from the skies. I knew that, if I only could, I would go to any lengths to help this great man. 

Rama needed to get across the ocean to Lanka, for that was where the rakshasas nested. He made a great deal of noise and made a fuss with some local gods, as men are wont to do, but finally things seemed to go his way. His strange animal crew began piling stones into the ocean and, somehow, they floated on the surface. Without a thought, I began my work. Every instinct in my body guided me. I scrambled from my comfortable branch and ventured out onto the dangerous coast, where I began to gather, not nuts, but stones. I packed as many of those sharp, dirt-tasting pebbles into my cheeks as I could and carried them to the bridge. There, I deposited my supplies, filling in all the gaps and cracks left by the careless larger creatures. Back and forth, I made my journey, never tiring. Even after all the men and monkeys had gone to sleep, I carried on, building Lanka Bridge pebble by pebble. 

Finally, after days of work, the bridge was done. Rama and his army of creatures crossed to Lanka and fought the rakshasas. I did not go on this adventure. No one, not even noble Rama, thought to ask the help of a simple squirrel.

 But I know, and now you know too, that I was the squirrel who built the Lanka Bridge. 

Building the bridge to Lanka  

Author's Note: 

I thought it was sort of funny and random how both versions, in fact, mentioned that squirrels helped build the bridge to Lanka. But, unlike all the other animal characters mentioned in the Ramayana, these squirrels aren't given names or speech or any other human qualities. So, I decided to tell the squirrel's story. Of course, we might not think the squirrel's contributions could have been that great, but from a squirrel's point of view his contribution would be a big deal. So, in this story, the squirrel spins it so that he was the hero of the story, and the whole effort would have fell through without his help. This gives the squirrel his chance to be an important character. I also explored the effect Rama seems to have on people and animal characters - many of them are able to sense that he is special, a god, etc., just by being in his presence. In this story, even though the squirrel is the hero, Rama is a very important and heroic character. He plays a role similar to that of the gods in many stories - he is a powerful but distant force that motivates the main character's actions.

Buck, William (1976). Ramayana: King Rama's Way

Week 2 Storytelling: The Break Room

The Court of Lahore, August Schoefft Source

I slid quietly into my usual spot in the break room, tucked away in a shadowy corner far from the hustle and bustle, happily ignored by the other servants and staff. It was the perfect spot to lurk unseen, watching the goings-on and hearing the freshest scraps of rumor and gossip that floated from the king's palace throughout the city of Ayodhya. Today the entire city was in an uproar; every man, woman, and child was consumed with manic energy in making preparations for Rama's coronation. Oh, how ironic, I chuckled to myself. Little did these simple souls know the events already unfolding that would crush their high spirits, the plan that I had set in motion.

It had been most amusing, watching these poor saps. All night, servants rushed about, wondering where the king had gone; wondering if the rumors were true that he had chosen now, of all times, to hole up with one of his wives somewhere; wondering if he would ever come out and if someone should go and check on him, even though it was against custom... oh, how silly and high strung they all were! That chief minister, Sumantra - why, the poor man was an absolute wreck by the night's end. While the blissfully ignorant public gathered merrily outside, the entire palace staff buzzed about with increasing tension; it was a towering pyre ready to ignite at the slightest spark of disaster. And oh, did that disaster come.

Suddenly, Sumantra burst into the room and all the nervous, tittering voices fell silent. I could tell by the greenish pallor of the man's face that he had finally been to see the king - and that my plan had worked perfectly.

Sumantra - valiantly trying to appear calm and casual, goodness me! - pulled aside his chief of preparations. Though he spoke in hushed tones, one could still make out a word here and there in the eerie silence: "...cancel the coronation... king... not well.. Kaikeyi... banished Rama..." It is fortunate that I was well hidden in my corner, for I had to suppress a satisfied grin as I saw Sumantra's confidants recoil in shock at the news they heard. They hustled from the room, and no sooner had they turned the corner than the servants struck up their gossiping with renewed agitation.

"Did you hear what he said?"

"Could this be true? The coronation is off?"

"Did he say that Rama has been banished? That can't be true! And what was that about Kaikeyi? ..."

Oh, that worrisome, anxious buzzing, that discordant din of chaos - it was music to my ears! That smug favorite Rama will not take the throne, that throne my beloved Kaikeyi so rightfully deserves to honor with her son. Good and kind Kaikeyi will take her well-earned place as queen mother, and I as her faithful devotee.

Little by little the nervous gossip turned to panicked consensus and finally devastating knowledge - Rama would not be crowned, but banished to the forests for fourteen years, according to the request of the king's wife Kaikeyi. What's more, the king himself had fallen suddenly ill and could not be reached. Everything fell into utter disarray; the palace was full of people - staff, servants, honored guests and common villagers - who, though moments ago were celebrating, now found themselves plagued with confusion and grief. Oh, the drama! By now I could not help but laugh softly to myself - these poor fools, pinning all their hopes and happiness on that young fool Rama! So, there I was - perhaps one would have thought me mad if he had noticed me, sitting there laughing amid the lamenting crowds. Yet it is indeed I who have had the last laugh in this affair. Surely, nothing now can stop my dear Kaikeyi from rising to glory.

Kaikeyi convinces Dasaratha to banish Rama     Source

Author's Note

As I read the section of the Ramayana in which the news is discovered and spread about Kaikeyi's banishment of Rama, I was interested by the brief mentions of the public and the king's various servants/staff members as they tried to figure out what was going on. This inspired me to tell the story from the staff's point of view - on the one hand, it is an insider's firsthand experience, but they also do not have all the information and must find it out gradually. I also wondered, as I was reading, what happened to Kooni - she isn't really mentioned after the one scene where she persuades Kaikeyi. Putting these thoughts together, I told this story with Kooni as the narrator, watching as the staff becomes aware of the plot she's set in motion. I called it "The Break Room" because I imagined this as the sort of situation you would find in a modern-type break room - all the employees of a large place coming together, milling about, sharing gossip and keeping each other up to speed. It may be a bit anachronistic, but I think it sets the right feeling, and frankly I don't know what would serve as a "break room" in ancient India.

Source: Narayan, R. K. (1972) The Ramayana: A Shortened Modern Prose Version of the Indian Epic.

Week 7 Storytelling: Unquiet Waters

Sita. Siiiiitaaaaa….

I awoke with a start. “Rama?” I instinctively called out, thinking it was he who had whispered my name in the night. But no, I was not in bed… Where was I? It took a minute for me to comprehend my surroundings. I was sitting in a dry, dead patch of grass, covered in dust and dirt, twigs and leaves tangled in my hair. I realized I was still at the river. Had I fainted? Fallen asleep? Why was it night already?

“Lakshmana?” No reply. “Lakshmana? Sumantra? Wake up!” I struggled to my feet, encumbered by my huge belly. Really, to think that they would fall asleep on the job – when they were supposed to be guarding the pregnant queen, no less! Oh, Rama would give them such a lecturing when we got back to Ayodhya.

“Hello?” It was really not like them to be so careless, particularly Lakshmana. He had always been a courageous and vigilant companion to Rama and me, even during those long, terrible years of exile.

The night was still, heavy with silence, but I felt a chill as the hairs on the back of my neck quivered. Something was not right. “Lakshmana?” My heart began to seize. “LAKSHMANA! RAMAAAAA!!!”

I collapsed back down onto the dirt, sobbing. What was happening? Had Rama abandoned me? How could he do this, after all we’ve been through? Suddenly, the weight of all the years, all the torture and trials I’ve endured, came crashing down on me. I was suffocating. I could not breathe. I was once again in the cruel, iron grip of Ravana – twenty arms locked around my chest, crushing my lungs, ten heads laughing and sneering at me. Only this time, though Ravana was only in my mind, it was worse. Oh, so much worse. This time, I had no hope to lift my soul. The light had gone out. It had abandoned me.

Sita. Siiiiitaaaaa…..

My head snapped up. There it was again – surely I had not imagined that voice! Fumbling about in the darkness, I could neither see nor feel any person, any being whatsoever, beside me. I was surrounded by emptiness on all sides. No one could hear my cries, none but the rocks and the trees and the great flowing river…

The river. No, I was crazy. Delirious with grief. But that voice… it was just like the river’s quiet roar, its strong, eternal whisper. I crept to the shore. I stuck one toe in the water – it was freezing. Nothing. Surely I was just imagining things. Still, I felt an irresistible pull drawing me deeper into the icy depths. I soon had both feet in… I was up to my ankles… up to my knees…

SITA!!!

I started, slipped, and nearly fell headfirst into the murky waters. The voice was sure and clear and all around me – I was certain it was the Ganges herself addressing me. I was overwhelmed. What do you say to a river? I did not know if she was friend or foe, but it seemed I had no one else. “Yes, I am here, Great Ganges,” I whispered into the night. “Enlighten me, teach me… help me.”

Was it my imagination, or did the lapping waters begin to sway, back and forth, ever so gently? The mud curling between my toes was warm, inviting – I sank down further into it. I felt a peace come over me – well, maybe it was just more of a numbness. For once, though, it did not feel as if Rama’s arrows had pierced my heart. The tears stopped falling, and the tracks of past sorrows were washed from my cheeks by the cool caress of the waves.

Come, Sitaaaaa… Come into me… All will be washed, all will be cleaned, all will be carried away…

“Sita! SITA!” I opened my eyes – I had not realized they were closed. How did I get back on dry land? A wild, strange man covered in dust clutched my dripping sari.

“What happened?” For the second time tonight, I felt disoriented, like I had just awoken from a terrible dream. “Who are you?”

“I am Valmiki,” the stranger replied, “and I have just saved your life.”

Author's Note:

I wrote this story about Sita's abandonment. I thought it was really creepy how the Ganges tried to talk her into drowning herself - I mean, Sita's pretty quick to jump to suicide, but this time the river was goading her into it as well. I imagined it as a really spooky, creepy encounter, and so I decided to write a sort of ghost-story, creepy, foreboding version of the events. In the Ramayana in general, suicide is often brought up by women in response to their husbands dying - many characters actually immolate themselves. This practice is treated as something pretty much acceptable. Sita, however, takes this to another level. For one, she contemplates killing herself many times. For example, before she's even married she vows she will kill herself if the man who wins her in her swayamvara is not the man she fell in love at first sight with: Rama (thankfully, it is). Then, throughout her imprisonment by Ravana, she thinks of killing herself in order to avoid Ravana, the pain of separation, etc. This story, though, stands apart even from all the others. For one, instead of self immolation - a standard practice in the Ramayana - Sita contemplates drowning herself. This act seems to show a greater level of sadness and despair, rather than just a quick and efficient end. So, I thought this story in particular really symbolized Sita's depression and pain. A death by drowning would be very painful, cold, terrifying. That shows how Sita felt when she was abandoned.

I also explore Sita's reaction to realizing she had been abandoned by Rama, capturing the pain she must have felt at that moment. I tell this from her perspective. This aspect of the story is not really explored in the Ramayana - Sita seems more like a passive character in the story - things just happen to her. Here, I tell the story from Sita's perspective to give her more agency and to show her struggle. 

Buck, William (1976). Ramayana: King Rama's Way

The Ganges ; Ophelia - John Everett Millais 

Week 4 Storytelling: The Real Housewives of Dasaratha

Previously on The Real Housewives of Dasaratha...

Last season, we met the three beautiful wives of King Dasaratha – his first wife, Kausalya of Magadha; Sumitra of Kashi; and the lovely young Kaikeyi of Kekeya. The people of Ayodhya rallied around the family’s struggle to produce an heir to the throne. The world cheered when Dasaratha’s horse returned and the Ashvamedha sacrifice was successfully completed. In a surprise twist, each of the housewives gave birth to a son (or sons!), welcoming Rama, Lakshmana and Shatrughna, and Bharata into the first family of Kosala. All seemed well in the royal house, but how will our housewives deal with the new pressures of raising children, competing for a spot in Dasaratha’s heart as well as on his throne? Find out in the shocking new season of The Real Housewives of Dasaratha.

We open on a sweeping scene of the idyllic, luxurious mansion of Dasaratha and his wives. Cut to Kaikeyi, resplendent in a flowing sapphire sari, lounging with cucumbers covering her eyes.

Mántara, an old, hunched Hispanic maid, enters.

M: Pardon my intrusion, señora, but I must eh-speak to you alone.

K: Mm?

M: Señora – are you not aware that the whole village is preparing a party?

K: (chuckling) Oh, we’re always either preparing for a party, having one, or cleaning up after it! Surely you of all people know that, abuelita. At least I know I’m not late for this one.

M: Pero no! Señora! Forgive me, but this is no time for laughing! I have heard… I risk my job to come to warn you… Señor chooses the boy Rama for to be his heir to the throne!

K: Oh, Mántara, you almost had me worried! I don’t see how this matters to me. Besides, that day is far off yet…

M: Oh, but Señora, this is eh-terrible news for you! When Rama is chosen, you will be cast aside and Kausalya will forever be queen bee around here! You have the easy life now, but how long you think that will last? Eh? How long you think you will be favorite when Rama is king?

Finally, Kaikeyi removes the cucumbers.

Señora, you must use your power now to stop this! I remember, you tell me you have the power of two boons, any two wishes you desire and Señor must grant your request. Use them now, banish the boy Rama and make Bharata heir to the throne!

Kaikeyi rises, angry.

K: Mántara, you have gone too far this time!! You cannot talk to me this way!

M: But señora…

K: No! I have heard enough from you! I can take care of myself just fine around here, thanks. (She walks to an ornate vanity and combs her lustrous hair.)

M: (turning to leave, muttering) Yes, paint your lips and make your cheeks bloom like lotuses! I know how it is you keep your grip on Señor… but beauty will fade, even yours, and then we will see who holds the power – a useless old hag or the mother of the king.

Kaikeyi whirls about in a fury, mouth open to scold, but Mántara has already left and shut the door.

Cut to Kaikeyi in the confessional.

Of course I meant what I said… but then, you know, I… Well, I started to think and I was like, maybe she’s right. You know, I am obviously like, the most beautiful wife around here, hello, but…

And you know, I don’t have to explain myself, I don’t have to apologize. I earned those boons, I’m the queen b[leep] around here and they all [bleep] well know it. I ain’t bowin’ down to nobody. A lady’s gotta take her claws out to survive sometimes.

Cut to new scene: Dasaratha stands outside the closed door to Kaikeyi’s suite. She can be heard wailing inside. Dasaratha pounds on the door.

Dasaratha: Kiki, baby, open up! What’s wrong? I love you!

Kaikeyi wrenches open the door. She is a hot mess, mascara smudged and streaming down her face.

Kaikeyi: (wildly) You love me?! Ha! You cannot love me! Why, you evil man, you lying dog, you must hate me! You must wish me dead!! (The last word is drawn out into a sob, and Kaikeyi crumples to the floor.)

Dasaratha, alarmed, scoops her up and sets her on the bed.

D: Kiki, my love, what on earth has gotten into you? What have I done to offend you?

K: Why, you have named Rama heir! What is to become of me, when he is king? Or sooner! You know how Kausalya hates me, the others have always been jealous of me. Surely I will be a pariah in my own home! But, no matter… what can they do to me, when I will first die of grief and shame? (Kaikeyi *appears* to faint.)

D: Kaikeyi? Kaikeyi, my love! (gently shaking her) You mustn’t think this way. I will always love and protect you. Please! What can I do to make you well again?

K: (opening her eyes) You truly love me?

D: Yes, you know I –

K: And you will do anything for me? Remember the boons you granted me.

D: Yes, yes… Why, I had even forgotten about the boons! So yes, of course, I will do anything to keep you happy.

Dramatic close up on Kaikeyi. She still appears to be in a swoon, but the hint of a smirk curls her crimson lips.

K: Then you must not make Rama heir but banish him, and give the throne to my son Bharata instead.

We are left with a scene of Dasaratha, desperate, shocked, and speechless, holding the obstinate Kaikeyi in his arms. Cut to black.

So, will Rama become heir to the throne, or will Kaikeyi get her wish? And how will the other wives react when they find out? Tune in next week for the most intense Housewives yet, with a shocking twist that will change the ladies’ lives forever.

Author’s Note:

This story is a retelling of the dramatic events surrounding the banishment of Rama. The story is full of sneaky dealings, manipulation, family drama, jealousy… just like a modern reality TV show! I styled this story as a Real Housewives show – it fit so perfectly. I reimagined certain aspects of the characters’ lives as more modern, but I also kept some elements true to the story. I think the mixture of modern and ancient elements adds a unique touch to the story; it’s fun to play with ancient stories in a more accessible and lighter context.

The characters of Kaikeyi and Dasaratha are a bit exaggerated in this story, though I think I captured important parts of their personalities from the original. Kaikeyi is portrayed as a lounging, shallow, “trophy wife”-type woman. I also emphasize her jealousy and her ruthless manipulation of her husband to get what she wants. This combines her actions in the Ramayana with the caricature of a reality show celebrity. Dasaratha is shown here as a man who is easily manipulated, making foolish promises under the influence of, ahem, beauty. This too plays up his actions in the original story and fits them to a stereotypical TV persona.

Buck, William (1976). Ramayana: King Rama's Way

Images: From Dasaratha and Vishvamitra ; Kaikeyi and Dasaratha, Source 

Week 1 Storytelling: Jack Daw and the Borrowed Feathers Boutique

Once upon a time there was a poor, lowly peasant named Jack Daw. He toiled all day in the fields, only to barely scrape by. All around him, his friends and family were in the same condition. Yet, only a mile down the road, the rich led lives of luxury in the palace. "What's so different between them and me?" Jack wondered. "Oh, if only I could walk a day in their shoes."

Just then, a gypsy wagon teetered and tottered its way down the road, stopping right in front of Jack's hut. A strange, portly little man decked out in voluminous frills and puffs jumped down from the drivers seat and started bustling about the carriage. He unrolled a large banner which read "The Borrowed Feathers Boutique".

The strange man said, "So, you wonder why they're living fat while you're scraping the gutters? Why, it's perfectly clear my boy. Just look at them - they reek of class! In a rich man's world, you've got to play the part! Just step right this way, and I'll replace those rags of yours with garments fit for a king!"

Jack was stunned. It seemed so simple, so obvious! "I don't have much to pay you, only this little hut and one milk cow."

"Sold!" The man replied.

So, Jack donned his new duds and waltzed into the palace. He was sure he would be ho-humming with the bigwigs in no time, making a fortune in whatever mysterious way the other rich folks did.

A Kingly Costume

However, he hadn't strolled ten yards into the courtyard when Jack grew conscious of glaring eyes and hidden sniggers following him. To his humiliation, a palace guard quickly approached him. "What do you think you're doing here boy?"

"Why, uh, my good sir," Jack stammered, "there seems to be a mistake. I'm here to meet my good chap, uh.."

Jack was interrupted with a huge hu-HA! from the guard. "There's no mistake. I haven't the faintest where you've gotten your outfit, but you can't wash the years of dirt from your face or the calluses from your hands. And besides, the way you walk, the way you talk, you failed to greet the ladies you passed by... clearly, you are not bred from upper-class. A peasant's still a peasant, even in king's robes."

Humiliated and dejected, Jack scuttled back out the palace gates. To his dismay, the strange man and his wagon were already gone, along with Jack's house, his few belongings, and his milk cow.

Now, Jack was poorer than when he had started, and could do nothing but wander the roads in his flashy get-up, laughed at by his former friends.

A Royal Fool

Author's Note: 

This tale is based on "The Vain Jackdaw and his Borrowed Feathers" from Aesop's Fables. In the original fable, a jackdaw (a plain, black bird) adorns himself with peacock feathers and tries to join their flock. The peacocks see through his disguise and kick him out, and when he returns to his fellow jackdaws they too scorn him for his arrogance. I re-imagined the story with human characters in a medieval setting. I wove in some nods to the original story, such as the character's name (Jack Daw) and the name of the mysterious gypsy wagon (The Borrowed Feathers Boutique). The original telling of the moral states, "Borrowed feathers do not make fine birds." My own version of the moral is told by the guard: "A peasant's still a peasant, even in king's robes." The lesson of this story is not to try to change who you are with material things, because what's on the outside cannot hide who you are on the inside. 

"The Vain Jackdaw and his Borrowed Feathers" by Aesop, from The Aesop for Children (1919). Illustr. by Milo Winter. Web Source.