Stories of Courage and Valour: From India and the World

By Soundar Chitra

Stories of Courage and Valour shines a light on famous and little-known heroes of real life. In this collection, you'll meet: Shravan, who worked tirelessly to fulfil his blind parents' wishesRazia Sultana, who bravely defended her kingdomSiddhartha, who gave up his royal life to find contentment and peace for everyone Prahalada, who stood up for his beliefs even in the face of dangerKerttu, who roamed unknown lands in search of her nine lost brothersRostom, who fought bravely for his king and displayed undying loyalty Laurencia, who inspired an entire village to stand up for what was right and many more! From popular Indian legends to tales from across the world, these are stories about extraordinary young men and women who fought for what they believed in, whether it was love, loyalty or fairness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Harper Children's
• Release date: Apr 13, 2020
• ISBN: 9789353578794

Soundar Chitra

Chitra Soundar is an Indian-born British writer, storyteller and author of over 30 children's books. Based in London, UK, Chitra writes picture books, poetry, non-fiction and fiction for children. She often visits schools and libraries across the world to share her love for stories and writing. Find out more at www.chitrasoundar.com.Aaryama Somayaji studies Communication Design at The National Institute of Design, Vijayawada. She draws to survive, reads for herself, and eats to stay happy. Illustrating for children is her way of giving back the joy she had as a child. She can be found sketching away on the Delhi Metro between work and home.

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Introduction

Since the start of civilisation, there have been many remarkable stories of children who have had to struggle to protect themselves and their families. Not only did these brave young children fight wild animals and stand up to warring tribes, but they also battled extreme natural forces like storms and tsunamis, volcanoes and famines. As civilisations advanced, so did the nature of such heroic adventures. Some like Ekalavya showed courage to acquire knowledge while others like Razia had to fight the prejudice of her father’s court. Not all fights were fought on the battleground. Kerttu went looking for her nine brothers and had to bear the loss of her dog and the cruelty of a neighbour. Prahalada had to resist his own father’s torture to stand up for what he believed in.

The stories in this collection are from India and various other countries around the world. These tales tell us to be courageous and strong and fight for what we believe in, even if we are fighting against our own hopelessness. Vishpala wanted to win a race, even though she couldn’t walk. But she never gave up and legend says that she was the first person to run with iron legs. And today that dream has come true for many through not just hope but also science.

In this collection, you will find stories of daughters and sons who sacrificed their lives for their land, their parents and for the good of their country. Shravan gave up his childhood to fulfil his blind parents’ wishes, while Bharatha was never deterred from his ambition of becoming a powerful king. Tara broke the prejudice against women in the practice of Buddhism, and in a different era Gordafarid broke the myth that women cannot fight off enemies and protect their territory.

Courage and valour are not traits one needs only to fight in the battlefield. Nennillo and Nennella kept their hope alive when their father abandoned them and Tiet Lieu believed in hard work and his land that grew rice and beans. While Siddhartha, who became Buddha, believed in his own self to find the true meaning of life, the alchemist’s wife understood how to make her husband realise the meaning of hard work.

The brave young men and women in these stories are each extraordinary in their own way. They fought for what they believed in – whether it was love, loyalty or fairness. Their stories show us how to stay determined and on course towards our own goals – whatever they might be. And that despite hardship and danger, these young men and women showed courage and valour. Their stories are lights that illuminate our path towards our own destinies – destinies that we must shape ourselves.

Most princes are born to kings and queens, emperors and sultans, in grand palaces, and are looked after by maids and carers all their lives. They want for nothing and if they do ask for anything, they have many a brave soldier who would rush to bring them their heart’s desire. They grow up surrounded by the pomp and glory of their status, far removed from the dangers of the wild or the struggles of the common man.

But Bharatha, the king who ruled across ancient India, was not born in the palaces of his father Dushyant or spoilt in the arms of many maids. He was born in the forests that surround the capital city of Hastinapura, up north, under the shadow of the mighty Himalayas. The rain fed forests were dense and dark, full of wild animals. Bharatha grew up in this wild habitat, climbing trees, chasing deer and swimming with the fish. He didn’t fear the crocodiles in the water, snakes in the bushes or the screeching cries of vultures in the sky.

Bharatha learnt the call of the birds before he could speak. He could smell the presence of jackals as they scuttled through the trees and he sensed the sand moving over the crabs that made their home by the river bank. Bharatha never thought of the wild as a dangerous place.

Bharatha lived with his mother Shakuntala and his grandfather Rishi Kanva in a small hermitage inside the forest. Even as a baby, he listened to the songs his mother sang, the chants of scriptures from his grandfather’s prayers and the sounds of the forest. He learnt painting from his mother – as she drew the shapes of the darting animals, the flying birds, and the agile fish in the river. He learnt to write on the riverbank with a stick and he climbed trees and rocks for fun.

Even when he was young, Bharatha would wander the forest on his own. Whenever he left home, his mother would remind him of his armband. ‘It’s your protector,’ she would say. And whenever he came back, she would ask, ‘What did you see today?’

And he would answer, ‘The land I will one day rule, the water that I will conquer and the skies my flag will flutter in.’

‘Maybe,’ his grandfather would whisper.

‘Bharatha will be the future king of Hastinapura and beyond,’ his mother would add. ‘I’ve raised a prince worthy of ruling all of the lands we can see, the rivers that flow and the forests that grow.’

One day Bharatha was collecting holy grass by the river for his grandfather’s prayer. A vulture flew down, flapping its broad wings, and sat on a rock nearby.

‘A vulture so close to the grass?’ asked Bharatha.

‘It has perhaps come to see you,’ said Rishi Kanva.

Bharatha didn’t understand. ‘Please tell me why,’ he asked.

‘It’s a long story,’ said Rishi Kanva.

‘We have a long way home,’ said Bharatha.

Rishi Kanva laughed. Bharatha followed him, eager to find out more.

The hermit began to tell the story …

‘I always collect holy grass here, close to the river, ever since I moved to the forest after giving up my domestic life. One day as I walked here, I heard the sound of wings flapping, the mew of a little creature, perhaps a cat, and the screech of vultures. I was worried that a cat was being attacked by vultures. I hurried toward the sound.’

‘Oh no!’ cried Bharatha. ‘Did you jump in and kill all the vultures?’

Rishi Kanva chuckled. ‘Of course not, I’m not a warrior and I don’t kill vultures. When I reached the clearing, I saw that it wasn’t a cat. It was a baby. A new-born baby, talking to the vultures, in its own way. A brood of vultures sat on the ground surrounding the baby protecting it.’

‘What did you do?’

‘As I went closer, the birds pulled the baby towards me. As if they wanted me to look after the baby.’

‘Of course,’ said Bharatha. ‘Babies can’t fly.’

‘I lifted up the baby in my arms and she smiled at me, completely fearless and with not a tear in her eyes.’

‘Where is that baby now?’ asked Bharatha.

‘She grew up,’ said Rishi Kanva. ‘I named her Shakuntala, the one protected by vultures.’

‘Mother!’ cried Bharatha. ‘Was Mother the fearless baby?’

‘She has always been fearless,’ replied his grandfather. ‘And you take after her.’

That afternoon after lunch, when the forest was quiet, and the heat made creatures drowsy, Bharatha sat next to his mother under the banyan tree. He said, ‘Mother, Grandfather told me about how you came to live with him.’

‘Did he now?’

‘But he didn’t tell me how I came to live with you,’ said Bharatha. ‘Where did I come from? Was I surrounded by vultures too?’

Shakuntala threw back her head and laughed, her voice lifting through the silent air.

‘That is a long story,’ she said.

‘But it’s a long afternoon,’ replied Bharatha. ‘Please tell me.’

And Shakuntala began to tell the story. ‘I was a young woman by this time, looking after your grandfather. I collected firewood, cooked his meals and guarded the hermitage from hunters.’

‘Weren’t you scared?’

‘Why should I be?’ asked Shakuntala. ‘The creatures of the forest are our friends and family. We always have to fear the humans, those that kill to pass the time.’

Bharatha wasn’t sure he had seen anyone else in the forest before. ‘Perhaps they were scared to visit because of my mother,’ he thought.

‘One day when I was in the clearing, singing to the deer, I heard a noise.’

‘Was it a growl?’ asked Bharatha. ‘That means it’s the lioness.’

‘It wasn’t a growl,’ said Shakuntala. ‘It was the sound of shoe-tipped hooves. Not the sound of wild horses, but those from the city, the hunters. As the sound came closer, the deer scattered. Except one. A baby deer, who was born only the previous day, hid behind my sari, trembling.’

Bharatha gasped. ‘What will happen to the baby deer?’

‘The trees parted and a man charged towards me. He wanted to kill the little creature. I ordered him to stop and he wouldn’t listen. I stepped forward and held the reins of the horse, stopping it in its tracks.’

‘What did the man do? Who was he?’

‘The man was the king of Hastinapura, he couldn’t wait to remind me that he owned the land, the rivers and the forests. He wanted me to hand over the little deer to him.’

‘Did you?’

‘Of course not,’ said Shakuntala. ‘I was the protector of the deer and I wasn’t going to let the man take it away. I challenged him to explain how he could be the king yet harm his subjects.’

Bharatha sat up to look at his mother’s face. It was full of determination and courage.

‘The king was astounded. But he was fair. He agreed to let the deer go in return for some food and water and a place to rest.’

‘Did you?’

‘Guests are always treated as gods, doesn’t Grandfather say that often?’ asked Shakuntala. ‘Atithi Devo Bhava! I offered him fruits I had picked and the water from the river. I let him rest outside our cottage. Slowly we started talking and I found out that he too loved music and dance. He wasn’t very good at painting, though. But I painted him, as he slept that afternoon, right there, by the wooden pillars.’

‘Do you have that painting?’ asked Bharatha. ‘Can I see him?’

‘Maybe, I will show you another time.’

‘But what did that king have to do with me?’ asked Bharatha. ‘You haven’t yet told me how I came to live here.’

‘That is for another day,’ said Shakuntala, rising up. ‘I need to get on with preparations for the evening prayers.’

But Bharatha was impatient. He followed his mother around all day, hoping she’d give in. That night, as the moon rose, they lay on the straw mat in the clearing, counting the stars.

‘That star that shines brightest was here the first night the king stayed over too,’ said Shakuntala. ‘Father was away and the king wasn’t in a hurry to return home. He told me about his life back home and how he was the king of vast lands and tall mountains.’

‘Then?’ asked Bharatha.

‘The king asked me to marry him …’

‘Did you agree?’

‘Not at first,’ said Shakuntala. ‘I had three conditions.’

‘What were they?’

‘That he would send for a wedding procession and gifts that matched any princess, not just a girl in the forest. Second, he would make my son his heir and thirdly, he would marry me right then and there in the presence of my friends – the forest animals.’

‘Did he agree?’

‘Yes, he did. And we were married that evening, under the stars, in the presence of the vultures who returned and the deer who loved me. To mark the wedding, he gave me a ring with the royal sign.’

‘So why are you living here in the forest and not in the palace?’ asked Bharatha. ‘Where is the ring?’

‘That is yet another long story, full of woe and courage,’ she replied. ‘For another time.’

As Bharatha’s eyes closed and sleep took over, he dreamt about the king and the palace, his procession for the wedding and the throne in his court. One day he too would be a king, the king of Hastinapura and beyond.

The next morning, Bharatha was playing in the forest with a lion cub. The lioness had a habit of leaving her cubs with him while she went to hunt. They chased each other through the trees, climbed over the rocks in the clearing and growled at each other.

‘Grrr!’ Bharatha growled.

‘Grrr!’ the little cub bared its teeth.

‘You have more teeth than me,’ said Bharatha. ‘Come here, let me count them.’

The lion