The husband, on his return, sat down to his dinner, and his wife served him the tamarind cabbage. He happened to put his finger to the place where the cabbage without tamarind had previously been served on the leaf. On applying it to his mouth, he found it so very sweet that he demanded that dish again. The wife replied to him that she had already emptied the pan. "Then at least bring me the cabbage that is sticking to the saucepan," said the husband; and the wife did accordingly.
Here ends the story. The latter portion is also said to be the explanation of a proverb that is prevalent in Tamil,--"Sevuru kîraiyai valichchu pôdudi sunaiketta mûli," meaning, "O thou feelingless deaf woman, give me at least the cabbage that is sticking to the saucepan." This proverb is applied to stubborn wives, who will have their own way, and do not obey their husbands submissively in unrefined society.
Among Hindûs, especially among Brâhmans of the Madras Presidency--and I now see from personal observation that it is the same in the Bombay Presidency also--there is a custom, while taking their meals, of leaving their food uneaten when it so happens that from any cause the light is blown out. Of course this could occur only in the night-time. Such mishaps now-a-days take place only in poor families, sitting down to supper with a single light. Hence the following story, told as the origin of this custom, is beginning to be forgotten. It runs as follows:--
In a certain village there lived a Brâhman who had an only daughter. She was deeply read in Sanskrit, and was of the most charming beauty. He procured a husband for her as deeply read as herself. The betrothal had already taken place; the muhûrta or auspicious time for her marriage was fixed at the tenth ghatikâ [2] of that night. On that very evening the son-in-law went to a tank to perform his Sandhyâ vandana or evening prayers. It swarmed with crocodiles. People never went near it. The son-in-law, being quite new to the village, entered the tank without knowing anything of the danger. Unfortunately, there was none near to warn him. He had set his foot in the water when a crocodile caught him by the leg, and began to drag him into the water. That very night was fixed for his nuptials, and a crocodile was taking him to feast on his flesh. He was extremely horrified at his position, and said humbly to his enemy, "My friend crocodile! Listen to my words first, and then decide for yourself. A wife, the only daughter of an old Brâhman, is waiting for me to-night. If you eat me now, you take me away without my seeing her, my father-in-law, and other relatives. Their hearts may break at the news of my death on the very day of the wedding. They may all curse you. If, on the contrary, you leave me now, I shall go home, speak to my wife and others about the sad calamity that has come over me, and after embracing and taking leave of her will come to you for your supper at the fifteenth ghatikâ. Till then leave me." The cruel crocodile, though very fond of human flesh, and himself dying of hunger, spared him for a few ghatikâs at his humble request. After extracting several oaths from him that he would return in accordance to his promise, the crocodile went into the water.