Singhasan Battisi – Corpse Bride – {Ep.241}

A Singhasan Battisi story where Raja Vikramaditya has a chance to end world hunger, only if he becomes a step-stool. What might Raja Bhoja do if he had the same chance?

Welcome to “Stories From India”. This is a podcast that will take you on a journey through the rich mythology, folklore and history of the Indian subcontinent. I am Narada Muni, the celestial storyteller and the original “time lord”. With my ability to travel through space and time, I can bring you fascinating stories from the past, the present, and the future. From the epic tales of the Mahabharata and Ramayana to the folktales of the Panchatantra to stories of Akbar-Birbal and Tenali Raman, I have a story for every occasion.

The purpose of the stories is neither to pass judgment nor to indoctrinate. My goal is only to share these stories with people who may not have heard them before and to make them more entertaining for those who have.

Today’s Story

The Singhasan Battisi is a series of 32 stories. All of them centered around a King’s attempt to sit on the throne of Vikramaditya. So far, we’ve done five of these episodes. The first was Episode 124, which had the framing narrative. Then we covered four of the stories in Episode 136 and Episode 164 and Episode 188 and Episode 225. Let’s recap the framing story, after which we’ll cover another one of the 32 stories.

The framing story begins with Raja Bhoj. Bhoj ruled his Kingdom several centuries after Vikramaditya had passed on. Vikramaditya had been an immensely popular King. And even in Bhoj’s time, he dominated pop culture. It wasn’t just the Vikram and Betaal stories which featured him in the starring role, with a reanimated corpse, a Betaal, in a supporting capacity. 

During Bhoj’s time, you could pick up any celebrity magazine, comic book, murder mystery, romance or even just a philosophical essay. Chances are, there would be a reference to Vikramaditya in there! They even had Vikramaditya celebration week, with reenactments, air vikram custom shoes, Vikky-Cola, and all kinds of assorted merchandise.

There were also mystery enthusiasts who claimed to have found the location of Vikramaditya’s lost throne. Ultimately, it wasn’t one of these enthusiasts, nor an archaeologist, nor a bounty hunter who actually found the throne. It was an ordinary farmer who stumbled on the legendary throne that had been a gift from Indra himself. And if you were like “Who’s Indra?”, let me remind you that he’s the King of the Devas and the ruler of Swarg, or heaven.

Bhoj had so far been an average King. With the discovery of the throne, he saw this as a chance to catapult himself into fame. The throne was magic, it had to be. And since Vikramaditya had gotten special powers from it, so could Bhoj.

The throne couldn’t be moved, so his staff had a new palace constructed all around it. Taxpayer money well spent, they all thought. The palace builders had constructed 32 stairs leading up to the throne, to match the 32 Apsara idols on its sides. 

When Bhoj climbed a step, one of the idols flew out of the throne. It hovered in the air near Bhoj and presented him with a challenge. He could sit on the throne, but only if he genuinely felt that he was worthy of it.

The challenge was a story. Thankfully. Otherwise, it might not have been very interesting if it was some mathematics or science quiz. Let’s just say Maths and Science hadn’t been Bhoj’s strongest subjects back in school. The question at the end was a simple True/False question, and the correct answer was also obvious. But there was no way to cheat. Bhoj needed to provide a sincere reply. That was absolutely necessary. You could imagine that the Apsara Idol had an AI-powered lie detection module. Bhoj answered and the idol flew away because Bhoj’s answer didn’t match what Vik did. The throne looked just as pretty with 31 idols instead of 32, so the King didn’t worry at that point. But then the same thing with the next idol and so on and so forth.

Today we’ll hear yet another such story.

Idol number 5 hovered in the air near Bhoja.

“Clearly I’m not the first.” the Apsara idol remarked looking at the freshly vacated spots on the throne. “Bhoja, you already know the drill, let’s get down to brass tacks the story, shall we? We have no time for idle talk. Get it? Idol? As in I’m an idol”

Bhoja said that he knew the drill, yes. And for what it was worth, the previous idols hadn’t had a sense of humor built in. He appreciated this change. Idol minds can be a creative workshop, he realized.

“Enough idle gossip, time for the story,” the Apsara reminded him. 

“There was once a mighty king called Vikramaditya…”

Bhoja interrupted, “No, No, Start with once upon a time.”

The Apsara sighed, she knew that there were going to be more silly requests later on.

“Alright, Once upon a time, in a Kingdom not so far away”

“Wait, wait, I have to get something very, very important!” Bhoja exclaimed.

The Apsara asked in a very concerned tone, “What?”

“Obviously, my popcorn,” Bhoja explained. “I ran out during the last story.”

“Well, don’t just stand there. Wiggle your finger or whatever you normally do, so your servants can get you your precious popcorn.”

Even as it was delivered, the Apsara muttered something under her breath about the idle rich.

“If his majesty pleases I’ll continue my story,” the Apsara said. A moment too late she realized that the sarcastic “his majesty” she had inserted would be quite lost on a King.

She launched into her story.

Vikramaditya was walking in the streets of his Kingdom. This was not unusual. Some kings did it regularly, Bhoja himself had done so when he discovered the throne. Other later rulers, like Akbar, might do so in disguise. But it was their way of appealing to the masses. It was as if he they were saying “Reach out to me, make me your brother.” Except the Kings who went out in disguise – they were looking for unfiltered feedback on their policies.

On such a walking trip, in the quiet of the night, Vikramaditya strolled near the execution square. You know the area where they publicly hung criminals. It was an execution extravaganza . Lots of executions. Today had been the Karma Karnival – Edition 2024 but before the common era, so really about four thousand years ago.

As Vik walked on the streets, he wished he had seen it during the day. The souvenir stalls were all closed now, and he was disappointed he couldn’t have himself measured for a noose at the take-home noose stall. Every one of his citizens seemed to be carrying one. As King of the land, such simple pleasures were denied him. Imagine the uproar it might cause in court if he asked to eat buddhi ke baal, or cotton candy as it is called on the streets. Come to think of it, unless he was very specific, his staff might actually feed him hair from an old lady. Yuck.

And now he had reached the center – the star attraction. The big banyan tree, which made the perfect spot to hang criminals. A tree this large could support multiple hangings all at once. Sometimes, when an entire crime family was being executed, executing them all at once could give the whole event a bit of a family atmosphere. At least that’s what the event planners hoped for.

And then Vikramaditya saw the strangest sight of all. From one of the branches hung a criminal. To be precise, an ex-criminal. The soul of the criminal had long since departed from this world, and the remains were not going to be involved in any further crimes. Unless you call stinking up this place a crime. He was seriously rethinking his own policy of leaving these criminals hanging here. He’d meant it as a stern reminder to all attendees of Karma Karnival 2024 BCE of the consequences of becoming a criminal.

Anyway, this criminal hanging here wasn’t what he considered strange. What was strange was the lady at this criminal’s feet, wailing like a banshee. But to be clear, she was not a banshee, which if you didn’t already know, is a character from irish folklore who shrieks and cries before someone passes away. In this case though the criminal who was hanging there had already passed away. But the lady seemed not to know that.

“My good lady, it isn’t safe here at this time of night” he told her.

“Is it safer then, in the middle of a cemetery, on a moonless night, with only a Betaal for company?” came her reply.

“Good point,” Vik observed, “but that was a long time ago, and it all worked out in the end.”

Listeners confused by these remarks – please listen to the Vikram and Betaal episodes on the show, if you get a moment.

“What are you doing here anyway? And why are you wailing?” he asked.

“I’m not wailing, I’m crying. Wailing is a subcategory of crying, but it involves less tears, and look I’ve shedding and lots and lots of tears.”

“You think a King would know that difference,” she added.

“Alright, why are you crying then?”

“It’s my husband.”

“I knew it. What did he do? Domestic Violence makes my blood boil. I’ll have him severely punished, just tell me where he is.”

Silently the lady pointed to the hanging criminal.

“There’s my husband, and what he’s done and gone and get himself hanged,”

“Oh I see,” muttered the King, his cheeks flushing red. More out of embarrassment than anything else, he began fidgeting with the tag. He carried his notebook with him of the day’s activities, and was able to quickly look up the details of this lady’s husband from the barcode on the label on his toes.

He read out the details “Subject: Badmaash Singh, Age: 29 years, Height: 5 feet 8 inches, weight: 80 kgs, Next of Kin: Shanta Bai, wife – that must be you my dear. Convicted of: armed robbery, burglary. Sentence: Public execution at Karma Karnival 2028 BCE, but postponed to Karma Karnival 2024 BCE because of the pandemic of the last four years.”

He paused and looked at Shanta Bai and said, “I was going to offer you justice, but in this case I see it is already done. Badmaash Singh was a criminal. Armed robbery and burglary are no joke. Hanging is the right solution”

Shanta Bai had completely stopped wailing now.

“Fair enough. I’m not worried about that. You can hang him for as long as you like. What I am worried about is that the poor thing is just hanging there and hasn’t had any food or water since his last meal this morning”

“You get why they call it a last meal right? It’s the last meal you ever consume.” He scrolled down in his notebook on Badmaash Singh’s profile and found the right section. “It says here that he requested some parathas, some lassi, and a side of raita and some gulab jamun for dessert. The parathas, lassi, raita were no problem. We got our cook to make them all. But we couldn’t manage the gulab jamun – there’s been a problem with our supply chain ever since the pandemic. So we had to substitute that with Shrikhand, which after all was Badmaash Singh’s second choice”

“Oh but I have some gulab jamun right here. All I want to do is to feed it to my husband.” Shanta Bai said.

“I don’t know if you realize this, but Badmaash Singh is incapable of eating anything anymore”

“Oh no, sire. He’s definitely alive, and hungry and thirsty no doubt.”

“Get a hold of yourself Shanta Bai, the hanging was 8 hours ago, and I have the coroner’s certificate right here and the medical examiner’s report. They reported no pulse, no heartbeat.”

“But I saw him twitch,” she said. That sent a chill down Vik’s spine. The horror was with the realization that he might get sued if his staff had done an incompetent job. Was it possible that the criminal survived? 8 hours seemed unlikely, but hanging was so unreliable. He figured it was time to move on to more advanced methods like nitrogen gas or something. He’d have his staff read up on the literature.

But for now, whatever he could do to avoid this becoming a lawsuit – he must do what it took to manage this situation.

She wanted to feed Badmaash Singh some food. So be it. There were no stepladders around. So Vik, the ruler of the land, got down on his knees and gestured Shanta Bai to stand on him so she could reach her husband’s mouth and feed him the Gulab Jamun.

“Hey Shanta Bai, if he doesn’t want it, I wouldn’t mind having one,” he called out.

But it turned out that the Gulab Jamun magically turned to jewels in Badmaash Singh’s open mouth. All of which fell out. Because just as Vik had thought, Badmaash Singh had already had his last meal.

The jewels were a strange sight, and Vik wondered if they were the loot from the criminal’s last heist. But no, his notebook said that they had accounted for everything.

Shanta Bai got down and explained. She wasn’t really Shanta Bai. She was a goddess.

She was getting delirious, no doubt. He could arrange for a social worker to take care of this lady. And maybe also to discreetly find out where she had managed to get the ingredients for Gulab Jamun when his entire kingdom had a supply chain crisis.

“I can see you don’t believe me,” Shanta Bai said, and waved a magic wand and was instantly transformed into Goddess form.

“Annapoorna, Goddess of Food, avatar of Parvati,” she said, introducing herself.

That explained the Gulab Jamun at least. Annapoorna went on to say that she had been testing Vik, and was pleased with the results. He had not hesitated to lower himself on the ground to keep his subjects happy. After all, serving them was his only function.

Vik didn’t think it best to mention that he’d only done so in order to avoid the lawsuit.

And besides the gift she offered, though it looked very dull, was bound to be magical.

It was the Gulab Jamun bowl that Shanta Bai had brought.

“You only have to wish for some kind of food, and it’ll appear in here”

“What about liquids?” Vikram asked

“It has to be food,” Annapoorna clarified. “I’m the Goddess of Food, not food and drinks”

“So Rasam, Soup, Kheer will work? But not Milk, or Water?”

“Exactly. Don’t try to apply science to this. This is beyond science. At least beyond 2024 BCE science.”

Annapoorna departed and Vik headed back to the palace, cheerfully thinking of all the exotic dishes he was going to eat. And a fair bit of money he would save by lying off his entire kitchen staff.

But thankfully for said kitchen staff, something happened that guaranteed their jobs. For the moment.

Vik ran into a beggar near the palace. The man looked hungry. Now was a good time to test this bowl. Upon asking, he revealed his deepest desire to eat Puran poli, though he was perfectly willing to settle for plain cooked rice.

Vik laughed and gave him Puran Poli from the bowl.

The beggar was quite impressed, and asked for another favor. He wanted the bowl for himself.

Without any hesitation, Vik handed it over.

So there you have it, the Apsara idol concluded her story. “Vik gave up the bowl and had nothing to show for it. One could only hope that the beggar would have put it to good use. So what do you think Bhoja?”

“If that happened a while ago, and there are no outperforming food vendors, the beggar did not misuse it for commercial purposes. Because it is Goddess Annapoorna’s bowl, it must also be indestructible. That means there is another lost artifact out there somewhere, waiting to be found!”

“Astute reasoning, but I can see you’re being evasive. Back to the question. Would you have done what Vik did in those circumstances? Would you have let Shanta Devi stand on you so she could feed Badmash Singh’s corpse? Would you have given away the bowl to the beggar?”

Bhoja sighed admitted that no, he would not have. He’d have had someone come and care for Shanta Devi. He would not even have considered humoring her tiny request. And the bowl itself? In wise hands like Vik’s or Bhoja’s, that bowl was the solution to world hunger! Why give it all away?

“And that is why I cannot remain on the throne” the Apsara said as she flew off.

Bhoja didn’t like his chances – so far his strike rate was zero, but he had to continue trying. He took the next step

That’s all for now

Some notes on the show

Previous Singhasan Battisi stories are linked in the show notes and on the site sfipodcast.com, check them out.

The throne was made by King Indra, gifted to Vikramaditya. It augmented many of the King’s powers. But Vik was already smart. He’d applied logic in solving a series of problems he had faced earlier in his career. Those problems were really case studies posed to him by a Betaal whom he was trying to capture. Check the links in the show notes and on the site sfipodcast.com for links to the Vikram Betaal stories as well.

The word Badmaash is hindi and it means notorious, quite fitting considering Badmaash Singh’s career highlights.

That’s all for now. 

Next Time

In the next episode, we’ll do a folk tale from Uttar pradesh. We’ll see what happens when a Lion decides to get married.

Feedback

Thank you all for the comments on Social Media and on Spotify’s Q&A! I can’t directly reply to the questions there, but I’ll address them here on this show.

Thank you Deepinjoy for the comments. I will do another story about myself at some point soon.

Thank you Sakshi.

Thank you Vishruth, loved reading your comment!

Vishruth and Swetha – yes – Subhas Chandra Bose’s story is lined up, so we’ll get to this soon enough.

Ambrosia – thank you for the feedback. We did in fact cover Kalki’s story back in Episode 155, do check it out.

Shalu – I appreciate your kind and thoughtful words as always. Feedback like yours keeps me motivated in continuing to tell these stories.

If you have any other comments or suggestions or if there are particular stories you’d like to hear, please do let me know by leaving a comment or a review on the site sfipodcast.com, or reply to the questions on Spotify Q&A. You can also find me on Instagram and Facebook. If you want to send me an email it’s stories.from.india.podcast@gmail.com.

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A big thank you to each of you for your continued support and your feedback.

The music is from Purple Planet.

Thanks for listening and I’ll see you next time!