Phinphinati Babui Haati

By Aditi Sandeep

A long time ago, there lived an old widow in the province of a great king. She lived all by herself in a ramshackle bungalow. In the grand old days when her husband was alive the house was magnificent with a beautiful garden in front that was like an oasis filled with fragrant flowering plants and an orchard of fruit trees. But now withered with time and fallen in hard times with no offspring she was all alone in the world. The old widow had no one to look after her or her property and so the house had fallen to ruins. The garden that was once so beautiful had now become a jungle, overgrown with weeds. The plants and trees had died for want of care and all that remained was a sole jujube tree. That tree stood alone by the crumbling east wall of the compound and blossomed unattended in wild abandon. Every year, right around the time of Saraswathi puja, its branches would droop low with the weight of heavy clusters of the ripening berries. The fruits brought the first taste of spring with its sweet and tangy crisp crunchiness that drove away the winter chill.

Now in that jujube tree, there lived a feisty little bengali finch called Phinphinati Babui Haati along with his bride. The couple were very fond of the widow as she used to feed them both every day. Even if she didn’t have enough food for herself, she would never forget to feed her little companions. Naturally, Phinphinati was very loyal and felt protective towards the old lady and the jujube tree.

In the aftermath of lunch while parents lay in lazy slumber of afternoon languor, the naughty boys of the neighbourhood would creep out of their homes to play. Some would silently make mischief somewhere and others would climb over the neighbours’ compound walls to steal fruits off their trees. When the children climbed over the crumbling walls of the widows’ house to steal the berries off the tree, just as they were about to pluck the fruit, a tiny shrill voice would chime out;

Phinphinati Babui Haati

I live in the widow’s berry tree.

He who dares touch its fruit

Shall have his head shaved smooth

His eyes plucked out and nose cut off

And I shall have the last laugh.

The children would get frightened and pull their hands back in haste. Surely the tree was haunted by a ghost who threatened them with bodily harm should they venture to pluck the berries. Who was courageous enough to face a ghost? Would anyone one risk their lives? And so, they would scramble back over the wall and run away quickly. In this manner the little finch protected the jujube tree.

Chapter 11

Now in that same village, a little further away from the old widows’ house, lived a very poor family of three in a tiny hut. The father was ill and could not go out to earn a living, as a result the mother had to work in four houses as a maid in order to make enough to feed them. Their little boy Khokon used to stay at home to look after his father and do all the household chores including the cooking as his mother used to return from work at nightfall. He could not go to school or play like the other children of the neighbourhood. It was indeed a very sad life for them all.

One day as the boy went out to run some errands he passed by the widow’s house. He was amazed to see that a tree so small could hold so much fruit. Its branches hung low with the weight of so many berries. Suddenly he was struck by a brilliant idea. Opening the old rusted gates, he walked up to the front door and knocked. The old widow answered surprised to see a scruffy young boy at her doorstep. Something about his thin face and honest eyes resonated with her. She sensed a mirror to her own plight in a child so young.

The boy explained his sad situation and noting the state of the dilapidated premises had come to a conclusion about the widows’ dwindling resources. He told her that he had worked out a novel way to ease both their financial difficulties. He proposed to come by every morning and fill a basket of ripe berries and then sell them in the marketplace. At sundown he would return, and divide the sales amongst them. The idea appealed to her, as not only would she be able to make some money but also would enjoy the company of another human being. And so began the strange friendship between the old widow, Phinphinati and Khokon.

In a few days’ time things began to change, the old widow was now able to afford two meals a day. She repaired the eternally leaking roof and other small things that had broken in and around the house. As a special treat she bought the finest bird seed for her beloved Phinphinati. In the evenings she would wait for Khokon to return from the market. Together they would spend time in the garden removing the weeds and, in their place, plant trees and flowering shrubs. They would care for the jujube tree and sing songs along with Phinphinati and his wife. The old widow’s loneliness soon vanished and she began to pass her days in contentment.

Khokons’ family’s state also improved. With the money he earned, he was able to take his father to a good doctor who prescribed medicine that enabled a full recovery. Now after recovery his father resumed his job as a rickshaw puller and was able to augment the family income. Khokon’s mother didn’t have to work in so many houses and was able to come home earlier to cook and spend time with her family.

All in all, things were running smoothly.

Chapter 111

One day the king planned a short trip into the village to take stock of his people and to find out the general wellbeing of his kingdom. So, he set out seated in his palanquin carried by four men followed by his entourage of ministers, two queens and several attendants. As the procession approached the neighbourhood of the old widow, one of the servant’s noticed the jujube tree and how its branches were laden with abundant fruit. He left the procession and climbing over the wall reached out to pluck a handful of fruit, when a small voice chimed out;

Phinphinati Babui Haati,

I live in the widow’s berry tree.

He who dares touch its fruit,

Shall have his head shaved smooth.

His eyes plucked out and nose cut off,

And I shall have the last laugh.

The servant drew his hand back in surprise. He didn’t believe in ghosts and such, so he attempted to pluck the fruit again. A shrill voice reprimanded him repeating the same threat once more. Realizing that the voice was coming from within the tree, the servant parted the leaves and searched for its owner. And there in the center concealed among the dense foliage he found a nest with a little bird and his missus who had laid six beautiful eggs. So, this was the source of the voice that threatened everyone who touched the tree! Not wanting to disturb them he quickly picked up a few berries that had fallen on the ground and then quietly slipped away.

He returned to the procession and presented the king with the berries who at first bite fell in love with its taste and asked for more. The servant explained that he could not acquire them as a little bird guarded the tree and would not let anyone near it. The king became furious on hearing this and ordered the servant to take along some others and bring back all the fruit growing on the tree and to capture the insolent bird and bring him to the palace.

The servant along with his aides looted the tree destroying its leaves and ripping the branches, plucking all the fruit. All the while the old widow pleaded and wept, begging them to leave the tree and the bird alone as it was all that she had in this world, but would they listen?

Phinphinati small though he was; flew around in a whir of wings. He bit and pecked at the men stinging them severely. He bit at their ears, hands and faces until they were bleeding. He valiantly tried to protect his tree, but they would have none of it. One of them finally caught the bird and as it struggled fluttering desperately shoved it into a cage.

Under the strict instructions of the king the servants stripped the tree bare of its fruit and then proceeded to ravage the bird’s nest, shaking it until it crashed to the ground breaking all the eggs. Phinphinati’s wife escaped to the nearby Banyan tree where she watched and wept as they destroyed her home, mourning the loss of her babies that would never be born.

Chapter 1v

Things had fallen apart as far as the old widow and Khokon were concerned. Since the jujube tree was bare, there was no fruit to gather therefore there was no income for either of them. When the tree would fruit, without Phinphinati to protect it, children would climb over the wall and steal all the fruit.

The old widow missed the little bird and cried for him every day.

Khokon now picked up cow dung from the road which he patted into dried dung cakes and sold in the market for a paltry price.

Everywhere there was gloom and despair.

Chapter v

In the palace Phinphinati was placed in a golden cage which was hung in the royal durbar of the king. The little bird fumed with anger towards the king for the injustice meted out to him and his near and dear. He vowed to teach the king a lesson that he would never forget. As he sat in his cage, he hurled insult after insult at the king, calling him all kinds of offensive names until fed up and humiliated the king ordered that Phinphinati be taken into the royal kitchen to be served up for lunch. He commanded his youngest and most favourite queen to cook Phinphinati in his favourite recipe. The king declared that he would love to devour the disrespectful bird that foul mouthed him and to let this be a lesson to all who dared speak ill of him.

Phinphinati however had other plans. He did not want to make things easy for the king and planned to escape from his gilded prison as soon as he could.

The young queen was soft hearted and gentle. She didn’t know how she was to go about killing the bird and then cook it. Nevertheless, she thought she’d give it a try as she was afraid of incurring the king’s wrath if she disobeyed his orders. With hands shaking she opened the latch of the cage slowly. No sooner had she done this, than the bird seizing this opportunity, pushed opened the cage door and flew out. The young queen now panicking with tears falling down her cheeks sat down heavily. What was she to do now? How was she to explain her clumsiness that led to the bird making its escape? The king would never understand her folly wasn’t intentional and would punish her severely. Suddenly an idea stuck her! She hastily wiped her tears and getting up, summoned her most trustworthy servant.

When the servant arrived the queen explained the situation to which the girl gasped in horror! The queen then asked her to then go and fetch a frog from the royal garden, one that was near about the same size as that of the bird. The servant was doubtful of the queen being able to successfully deceive the king by feeding him a frog instead of a bird, but her status didn’t allow her to question or argue her case. So, she went out and caught a frog that fit the description which was subsequently cooked in rich flavorful gravy. The dish was garnished beautifully and smelled very delicious and appetizing. It was then placed in front of the king who was very pleased. He took one mouthful of the frog curry and closed his eyes enjoying the succulent taste that flooded his mouth.

Now Phinphinati who had escaped, was watching all this from his vantage point on top of the cornice that ran all around the ceiling of the royal dining room. He decided to taunt the king and so the next time the king took a bite, the little bird piped out.

I sit up here on my perch, looking oh so bored,

While the great king feeds on a splendid toad!

The King stopped chewing and looked all around. The queen froze knowing that this was the beginning of the end for her. The king not finding anything amiss resumed eating his lunch helping himself to more of the supposed bird curry. Just as he put another tasty morsel in his mouth the bird piped out again;

I sit above and watch agog,

As the great king lunches on a frog!

This time the king brought his head up sharply and found Phinphinati sitting on the cornice, cheekily looking down at him. He spat his food out knowing at once that he had been fooled. Realizing his queen’s deception, he stormed out in a fit of rage.

The next morning the queen was dragged out into the garden where a large hole had been dug out. In front of all the kings’ ministers, servants and the entire royal household, she was pushed in unceremoniously and then crushed with the sharp and spiky thorns of the acacia tree. She died a painful and horrible death for her deception. The king wept bitterly for the loss of his favourite wife. His righteous reign demanded that he punish whosoever should deceive him, be it his worst enemy or someone as close as his own precious queen.

Phinphinati having exacted his revenge flew back to the old widow’s house. The widow was sitting outside under the jujube tree which was once again abloom with flowers. On seeing Phinphinati she was overjoyed and tears leaked out of her eyes. Phinphinati’s wife came down from the Banyan tree and was reunited with her husband. Later Khokon came by and there was much rejoicing.

All’s well that ends well.

This story is one that I’ve heard several times as a child. My grandmother would tell us this story in Bengali and we would delight every time at the antics of the little bird. I have searched for the Bengali version many years now and haven’t been able to find one. I decided to translate the story as I remember it in English to share with my children, a small piece of my childhood. I’ve even illustrated a few panels to accompany the story.

Phinphinati Babui Haati

I live in the widow’s berry tree.

He who dares touch its fruit

Shall have his head shaved smooth

His eyes plucked out and nose cut off

And I shall have the last laugh.

Now in that jujube tree, there lived a feisty little bengali finch called Phinphinati Babui Haati along with his bride.

Under the strict instructions of the king the servants stripped the tree bare of its fruit and then proceeded to ravage the bird’s nest, shaking it until it crashed to the ground breaking all the eggs. Phinphinati’s wife escaped to the nearby Banyan tree where she watched and wept as they destroyed her home, mourning the loss of her babies that would never be born.

By Aditi Sandeep