The Mermaid

"The Drunkard babbling, 'We always want to live in a Fairyland,'" says the Moon opened a sheet of story, after saying Basmala and greeting with Salaam, then said, "In his drunkenness, he chatterred, 'What strange species of Man ! Poor unhappy mortal, where are your happy days? You are ever hoping and desiring, sigh and wish, and languish a long time for Enjoyment, and when you have obtained the Sum of your Wishes dearest Fruition, you still complain and are unhappy.

A Thousand and a thousand Projects perplex your thoughts ; when shall I be this ? Or, when shall I be that ? If Heaven grants your Wishes, you still ask more, and still are difappointed. But the fault is not in the nature of things but in your selves. By framing wrong Ideas only you are cheated and deluded.

Every thing in the World has two Faces, one beautiful, the other deformed. How charming is that Object! How happy should I be in its possession! Which when you have experienced, the scene is changed; frightful is it then! How ugly! That which we wish we see through a Telescope, but when enjoyed, we turn the other end of the Perspeftive.

There was a young fellow, once upon a time, that was so foolishly amorous as to fall in love with a Mermaid. He was continually on the Sea-shore, and pouring out prayers and tears for the shake of Shukra, the Venus. He sighed as if his Heart would break, and could scarce prevail with himself, to retire when Night came on.

When in bed, he could take no repose, for his thoughts were still employed in contemplating the beauties of his beloved fair one. He ran over every line of her face, and every feature had its peculiar charms.

The whole night, and every night, was passed after this manner, and with Vows and Prayers to the Sun to hasten his approach, and bring on the Wellcome Day, that he might enjoy the sight of his lovely Sirene.

'O what Eyes are there!' says he, in a rapture. 'What charming Shape! What delicate limbs! What admirable Symmetry and Proportion!' and then, 'Ye gods! What enchanting Voice! What divine musick dwells upon her tongue! Sure, Heaven it self contains no such miracle of Excellence and Beauty, endued with such like moving Graces!'

In short, the young Fellow languished and pined away for Love. Neptune saw and heard all from his Throne bedecked with Pearl and Coral, and took Pity on the wretched Inamorato. 'There,' says he, 'unhappy youth, the Mermaid’s yours, and quench your amorous' Flame.'

They were accordingly married and had at the height of his joys; the Night 'was pass’d in such soft caresses, and rapturous endearments, which only ardent Lovers know. But the next morning, instead of a fine woman he found, a Monster in his arms."

Unsteady, the drunkard walks away singing,

Eling jaman semono

[Remembering that time]

Waktu kawin nanggap bal-balan

[When got merried, watching football]

Tamune rame tenan

[The guest was crowded]

Nganti sing ndelok akeh sing pingsan

[Till those who watched, many fainted]

Amplope akeh tenan

[Got abundant envelopes]

Entuk duit karung-karungan

[Got sacks of money]

Wong sing podo kondangan

[Those who were invited]

Nganti akeh sing podo kelangan

[So many got pickpocketed]

Angge-angge orong-orong

Ora melok nggawe, melok momong

[Did'nt making, partake in babysitting]

Entok rondo anak'e limo

[Got a widow, had five child]

Kumpul bareng, turu neng kloso

[Getting together, sleeping on the mat] 

Angge-angge orong-orong

Ora melok nggawe melok momong

[Did'nt making, partake in babysitting]

Kudu becik karo anake

[Must treating well to her children]

Kabeh kui dadi resikone *)

[All of it, are the consequences]

The Moon sighed, and commented, "Well! Unhappy Man! Your disgusts grow on your rhapsody. Before enjoyment, in the height of expectation, you see nothing but the head and body, but after fruition, the tail and scales, appear. And Allah knows best."

Citations & References:
- Sieur De La Motte, One Hundred New Court Fables, Peter-Nofter-Row

*) "Angge-angge Orong-orong" written by Jhoni Sayekti & Ragil SB

Bahasa

The Satyr (2)

Before long, the Philosopher told the story,

"A Satyr, as he was ranging the forest in an exceeding cold snowy season, met with a Traveller, half-starved with the extremity of the weather. He took compassion on him, and kindly invited him home to a warm comfortable cave he had in the hollow of a rock.

As soon as they had entered and sat down, notwithstanding there was a good fire in the place, the chill Traveller could not forbear blowing his fingers’ ends. Upon the Satyr’s asking him, why he did so; he answered, that he did it to warm his hands.

The honest Sylvan, the Satyr, having seen little of the world, admired a man who was master of so valuable a quality as that of blowing heat, and therefore was resolved to entertain him in the best manner he could. He spread the table before him with dried fruits of several sorts [remember lanx satura I told you before]; and produced a remnant of cold cordial wine, which, as the rigour of the season made very proper, he mulled with some warm spices, infused over the fire, and presented to his shivering guest.

But this, the Traveller, thought fit to blow likewise; and upon the Satyr’s demanding a reason why he blowed again, he replied, to cool his dish. This second answer provoked the Satyr’s indignation, as much as the first had kindled his surprise: so, taking the Man by the shoulder, he thrust him out of doors, saying, he would have nothing to do with a wretch who had so vile a quality as to blow hot and cold with the same mouth."

"Though the poor Traveller in the Fable was not guilty of any real crime in what he did," said the Philosopher, "yet, one cannot help approving the honest simplicity of the Satyr, who could not be reconciled to such double dealing, worse than the Satyr himself.

As I said before, nothing can be more offensive to one of a sincere heart, than he that blows with a different breath from the same mouth. Lately, a lot of narrations have been exhaled, one of which has not been completed, the next one has also emerged, which causes a commotion and leaves no time for us, as a colleague said, 'It makes us unable to take care of ourselves and our families. They asked for more and snatched everything!"

Don’t be led astray and you’ll shine for more than a day. Hear the story of the strange hermit who was camping in a meadow,

The toilsome hours of day were spent, and the world seemed wrapt in calm content. When each anxious care forsook the breast, sleep gently closed each eye to rest: Cynthia her brightest aspect wore, and heavens expanse was studded over.

A strange hermit, by his meditation, drawn, then forsook his tend, and sought the meadow. He strayed in a deep contemplation, surveyed the nature’s dozing charms; viewing on either band new beauties, as he pursuied his tranquil path, where many lay, lined jugs and piles of soil of various brands, and, one of them, he noticed, send from the land of aquariums.

By chance, in his way, there waa a Glow-worm, shot forth his little glittering ray; proudly unfolding every grace, as trailing round from place to place, illumining the moss-fring’d plain, and looked disdain on other worms.

The Hermit, somewhat with his philosophic eye, surveyed the wanderer crawling by, then stooping low with his restless hand, high lifts him from the dew-fraught land. The grub, though was not dismayed through fear, be conscioused he was not in his sphere, withdrewed his beam of light away, to hear what a man, vain man! would say.

The learned Hermit, amazed, paused for some time and gazed anxiously; astonished that the worm should die so soon, then carelessly threw it. But first, this application made, ‘This creeping reptile, lo! is dead, and with his life his glory’s fled, so is’t with all ambition’s race, who fill up each exalted place; brilliant they shine with borrowed ray, and wanton in the blaze of day, till fortune’s second wheel turns round, and leaves them, where they first were found.’

The Glow-worm with attention heard and weighed with prudence every word, trimmed bright his little lamp again, and shone more beauteous o’er the plain. Then thus address’d the wondering Hermit, the known storyteller of the age: ‘Know thou, the happy power to shine? Is truly man’s as well as mine, I know my sphere: did he the same. He’d tread that path that leads to fame. Hid he in dang’rous times retire? And check with care ambition’s fire; Like me, he might new lustre spread, and deck with laurels fresh his head: But, coxcomb-like, he’s led astray to shine, and shines but for a day.’

"On my part," said the brilliant Philosopher, "A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and a loving favour rather than silver and gold. He that followeth after righteousness, findeth righteousness and honor.

There was a sage Philosopher, who was well versed in all knowledge, natural as well as moral, was one day, found in a cemetery deeply absorbed in contemplating two human skeletons, which lay before him–the one that of a duke, the other of a common beggar. After some time he made this exclamation, “If skilful anatomists have made it appear that the bones, nerves, muscles, and entrails of all men are made after the same manner and form, surely, this is a most convincing proof that true nobility is situated in the sound mind and heart, not in the blood. All go into one place, all are of the dust, and all turn to dust again. The rich and the poor meet together: the Mighty All-Creator is the Maker of them all."

The Philosopher looked at his pocket watch and said, "Now, it is my time!" And moments later, he stepped into a room filled with people, who greeted him within a sound determination,

And for every song, there's a song we're not singing

For every step, there's a step we're not taking

So let me know if there's something I'm missing

'Cause this is all I need

So say we'll be always, always

Say it will be you and me 'til the old days

Let us be always, always

Through the highs and the lows, we'll be always *)

The Moon wrapped up with words, "Togetherness, in this 'context,' at the beginning, considered as Prohibited, but after exploring line by line of the verse, by observing word by word, it is Permissible, though there is an attempt to disguise the Permissive label, seen as Prohibited. The Rolling Snowball has broken the small helpless branches, and must immediatelyy be melted, so that the heaps of snow, do not hit the folkstown houses at the foothill. Why then, still being hesitated? And Allah knows best."

Citations & References:
- J.B. Rundell, Aesop's Fables, Cassell, Petter and Galpin
- Samuel Croxall, D.D., Fables of Aesop and Others, Simon Probasco
*) "Always" written by Isak Ocke Danielson, Kristofer Ulf Oestergren & Olle Lars Anders Blomstroem

Bahasa

The Satyr (1)

Hearing about the Phoenix, one of me Folks, the brilliant Philosopher I admired, chuckled, "Please, do not be confused between Satyr and Satire!'" the Moon conveyed at the time she arrived, after, as usual, saying Basmalah and Salaam. "These two words," said he, the philosoper, "are close in pronounciation and often confused. As you know that, Satire is an artistic form, chiefly literary and dramatic, in which human or individual vices, follies, abuses, or shortcomings are held up to censure by means of ridicule, derision, burlesque, irony, parody, caricature, or other methods, sometimes with an intent to inspire social reform. A satire is designed to point a finger at people or institutions that are abusing their power or doing something that is not in the public interest, usually in the hope that the situation will be rectified. The plural form is satires, the adjective forms are satiric or satirical. The word satire is derived from the Latin word satira, referring to a type of poem. The idea of the satire was pioneered by the Greek playwright Aristophanes in his comic dramas known as 'Old Cmedy, which has been collected into 'The Comedies of Aristophanes.' A satire may be a movie, play, novel, essay, song, meme or other form of expression. Satire is an old tradition that has aesthetic, if not, etymological appropriateness, and has remained strong.You need to pay attention, because it is an artistic style, then in Satire, it should be no ribaldy, blasphemy, curses, or anything alike. The word 'satire' comes from the Latin word satur and the subsequent phrase 'lanx satura.' Satur meant 'full' but the juxtaposition with lanx shifted the meaning to 'miscellany or medley,' the expression lanx satura literally means "a full dish of various kinds of fruits". 

The origin word of 'satire,' was not influenced by the Greek mythological figure of the satyr.' The Satyrs, were characterized by their ribaldry—and this one of that sets it part from Satire— and were known as lovers of wine, music, dancing, and women. They were companions of the god Dionysus and were believed to inhabit remote locales, such as woodlands, mountains, and pastures. They often attempted to seduce or rape nymphs and mortal women alike, usually with little success. They are sometimes—pardon me—shown masturbating or engaging in bestiality. The word satyr is used figuratively to mean a man with outsized sexual desires, it is derived from the Greek word satyros.

A Satyr, also known as a Silenus or Silenos, in Greek mythology, is a male nature spirit with ears and a tail resembling those of a horse. Early artistic representations sometimes include horse-like legs, but, by the sixth century BC, they were more often represented with human legs. Comically hideous, they have mane-like hair, bestial faces, and snub noses and are always shown naked. Thus, in Satire, caution is required," said he, "to avoid slipping into a form of the Satyrs," and he paused for a moment.

Then he went on, "Look!  Impressions that bring controversy, will be forgotten, so,

Make certain, your first impressions are good ones.

A sage Philosopher being, one day, in a Gentleman’s Library—a personal collection of at least 10,000 books—saw lying on the table a sheet of paper, which had once been white, but was, now blotted and scrawled all over, with nonsense and ill-drawn figures. “Ah!” said the sage, “had this sometime spotless paper, been committed to the trust and care of proper hands, it might, at this time, have contained an excellent poem or an accomplished drawing, lessons of morality or doctrines of science, instead of being thus defaced, and rendered worse than useless, by the display of blots and scratches, dirt and folly, fit only, at present, to singe a roasting pullet or to kindle the fire, and the sooner it is destroyed, the better.'"

Then the pholosopher made clear, "The infant mind is pure and unsullied, like the fairest white paper, without a stain, and the first impressions it receives, we all know by experience, are the deepest and most difficult to be erased; therefore it becomes more particularly our duty, as we value the future welfare of the child, to be careful of the first instructions and notions which are given to it. Praise children for being pretty, and they will endeavour to set themselves off. Praise them for being good, and they will endeavour to be virtuous."

"What I'm trying to say," said he, "that, all the memory of a good, deed lives. It's just a childhood memory, it's hard to erase, let alone intentending to manipulate the history. Phaedrus was an old man when he wrote his fables,

An old woman, seeing a Wine Cask, which had been emptied of its contents, but the very lees of which still perfumed the air with a grateful cordial scent, applied her nose to the bunghole, and snuffing very heartily for some time, at last broke out into this exclamation, 'O delicious smell! How good! how charming must you have been once, when your very dregs are so agreeable and refreshing!'

This, he applies to himself; intimating what we ought to judge of his youth, when his old age was capable of such productions. It is at once a pleasing and melancholy idea that is given us by the intercourse with elderly persons, whose conversation is relishing and agreeable, and we cannot help concluding that they must have been very engaging in the prime of life, when in their decline they are still capable of yielding us so much pleasure. Nor can we help feeling regret, that this fountain of delight is now almost dried up, and going to forsake us for ever. On the contrary, when people have neglected to cultivate their minds in youth, their whole deportment through life is marked with the effects of this great want, and their old age is burthensome to themselves, and their conversation insipid to others; and like liquor of a thin body, and vile quality, soon becomes sour, vapid, or good for nothing.

Having a free tongue, may be more of a hindrance, than help.

An honest plain-dealing sage, but whose mind was stored with true philosophy, was one day walking in the street, when he saw a beautiful Parrot in a shop where birds were sold; and being much taken by her prating, enquired the price: and they answered, one hundred and fifty crowns.

The poor philosopher, to his great mortification, found his pockets would not afford such a sum; 'however,' says he, because 'I fancy the bird, I don’t care if I truck with you for it; that is, I’ll give you my bed, chairs, and all the other moveables of my lodgings at your own price for it.'

The shop-keeper agreed, and the bargain was concluded, but yet was much surprised, and could not refrain from pitying and asking the philosopher if he had lost his senses, that he who wanted clothes to his back, should be so extravagant as to chaffer the furniture of his house, nay, even his bed from under him, the sole repose of his wearied body and over-laboured mind, and all to purchase a tawdry Parrot?

Ah!” replied the Philosopher, “to me it will prove an inestimable treasure, and I would have reduced myself to nakedness, rather than have gone without her, for my misfortune is to have a free tongue, and a plain and open heart;—great virtues these in former ages; now, unpardonable faults, as I have found to my cost: but I hope to put an end to all this, by keeping this wonderful bird, who will “teach me what I know nothing of, though so much in fashion: that is, the art of concealing the true thoughts of our own soul, and tickling people’s ears with words only from the tongue, and speeches learned by rote.”

Nothing can be more offensive to a man of a sincere honest heart, than he who blows with different breaths from the same mouthIt's. It's better to maintain a single position, expressed in the following story of the Traveller and the Satyr.

[Part 2]

Bahasa

The Phoenix

"This is what I have heard from Hans Christian Andersen," the Moon chattered after saying Basmalah and Salaam. "But pardon me, I can't maintain exactly what he has mentioned. I'm trying to rember of his words,

In the Garden of Paradise, beneath the Tree of Knowledge, bloomed a rose bush. Here, in the first rose, a bird was born : his flight was like the flashing of light, his plumage was beauteous, and his song ravishing.

But when Eve plucked the fruit of the knowledge of good and evil, when she and Adam were driven from Paradise, there fell from the flaming sword of the cherub—an angel of the second highest order of the ninefold celestial hierarchy, represented in ancient Middle Eastern art as a lion or bull with eagles' wings and a human face—a spark, into the nest of the bird, which blazed up forthwith. The bird perished in the flames ; but from the red egg in the nest there, fluttered aloft a new one, the one solitary Phoenix bird. The fable tells us that he dwells in Arabia—the Land which the tadpoles hate—and that every year, he burns himself to death in his nest ; but each time a new Phoenix, the only one in the world, rises up from the red egg.

The bird flutters round us, swift as light, beauteous in colour, charming in song. When a mother sits by her infant's cradle, he stands on the pillow, and, with his wings, forms a glory around the infant's head. He flies through the chamber of content, and brings sunshine into it, and the violets on the humble table, smell doubly sweet.

But lately, the Phoenix, evidently, is not the bird of Arabia alone. He wings his way in the glimmer of the northern lights, over the plains of Lapland, and hops among the yellow flowers in the short Greenland summer. Beneath the copper mountains of Fahlun, and England's coal mines, he flies, in the shape of a dusty moth, over the hymn-book that rests on the knees of the pious miner. On a lotus leaf, he floats down the sacred waters of the Ganges, and the eye of the Hindoo maid, gleams bright, when she beholds him.

The Phoenix bird, dost thou not know him? The Bird of Paradise, the holy swan of song ! On the car of Thespis—an Ancient Greek poet who first person ever to appear on stage as an actor playing a character in a play—he sat in the guise of a chattering raven, and flapped his black wings, smeared with the lees of wine ; over the sounding harp of Iceland, swept the swan's red beak ; on Shakespeare's shoulder, he sat in the guise of Odin's raven, and whispered in the poet's ear "Immortality!" and at the minstrels' feast, he fluttered through the halls of the Wartburg.

The Bird of Paradise renewed each century born in flame, ending in flame ! Thy picture, in a golden frame, hangs in the halls of theflavorful rich employers; and thou, thyself, often fliest around, lonely and disregarded, a myth "The Phoenix belongs to the Arabian."

"Perhaps, I did not properly narrate it," I talked to a brilliant philosopher. And, as Allah's will, I'll tell you, what was his comments. And Allah knows best.

Citations & Reference:
- H.W. Dulcken, Ph. D, What the Moon Saw and Other Tales by Hans C. Andersen, George Routledge and Sons.

Bahasa

Get Conned

"If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is," the Moon tried to express her views, when she came to visit, after saying Basmalah and Salaam. "We may perceive in those splendid advertisements of quacks, who pretend to possess all knowledge, and to perform miracles; that by their false pretences, gain the property, or destroy the health of those simple readers. Most of us get fooled or conned on a regular basis, by some people or businesses, piliticians or even a regime—I’m not saying they’re all crooked or criminals, but they’re trying to sell you on a story—using certain techniques, to get you to buy into their narrative and to do what they want.

Many tactics being used by these Conmens, among others, misdirection, time pressure to make you make mistakes, to make you like something for nothing, social compliance and social proof, and many more.

And I found three cases, while visiting a country called Bhumi Mosam. On the first set, my attention paid on the following,

A waggish idle fellow in a country town, being desirous of playing a trick on the simplicity of his neighbours, and at the same time to put a little money in his pocket at their cost. So, he went to a place where they often gathered, and joined in. After a long discussion about what is being discussed, he advertised that he would, on a certain day, show a wheel carriage that should be so contrived as to go without horses.

'Really!' one folk commented. 'Nonsense! There is no wheel carriage can run without a horse!' said another folk, 'I can show you!' said our fellow. 'Then show us!' all of them challenging. 'But first as usual, show me your money, because no money, no show!'

By silly curiosity the rustics were taken in, and each succeeding group who came out from the show were ashamed to confess to their neighbours that they had seen nothing but 'a wheel-barrow.'

And everyone who came out of the exhibition, when asked, just singing with wry smile,

Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high

There's a land that I heard of once in a lullaby

Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue

And the dreams that you dare to dream

Really do come true *)

It is mortifying to see, by what artful knavery, one half of the world impose on the folly of the other who are deluded by their specious cant, and who find out when it is too late, that the wretch in whom they trusted, knew no more than themselves, and that instead of being endowed with superior knowledge, was only their superior in knavish art.

On the second set, listen to this, if you allow men to use you for your own purposes, they will use you for theirs.

A quarrel had arisen between the Horse and the Stag, so the Horse came to a Hunter to ask his help to take revenge on the Stag. The Hunter agreed, but said, 'If you desire to conquer the Stag, you must permit me to place this piece of iron between your jaws, so that I may guide you with these reins, and allow this saddle to be placed upon your back so that I may keep steady upon you as we follow after the enemy.'

The Horse agreed to the conditions, and the Hunter soon saddled and bridled him. Then with the aid of the Hunter the Horse soon overcame the Stag, and said to the Hunter, 'Now, get off, and remove those things from my mouth and back.'

'Not so fast, friend,' said the Hunter. 'I have now got you under bit and spur, and prefer to keep you as you are at present.'

The Stag who lost the battle, noticed, and said to himself, 'I'm saved!' and with a sway, he turned toward the mountain, humming,

Someday I'll wish upon a star

And wake up where the clouds are far behind me

Where troubles melt like lemon drops

Away above the chimney tops

That's where you'll find me *)

On the third set, hear this, it sometimes happens that one man has all the toil, and another all the profit.

The Fox came over the dead body of a Fawn that had been recently shot. But his steps were stopped by the Lions and the Bears, on his right and left. The two jungle superpowers wanted it too. The fox, who was not a shrimp, tries to steal the Fawn, in his own way, not even concerned losing self-respect. Then he said, 'I do not see, that both of you, the strongest.' The Lion was angry and roared, 'I am the strongest!' Not to be outdone, the bear, argued, 'I am the strongest!'

A fierce battle ensued, and as each animal was in the prime of his age and strength, the combat was long and furious. At last they lay stretched on the ground panting, bleeding, and exhausted, each unable to lift a paw against the other.

By at the time, the impudent Fox, stepped in and carried off before their eyes the prey on account of which they had both suffered so much.

The Lion and the Bear saw him, but not being able to get up, said, 'Woe be to us, that we should have fought and belabored ourselves only to serve the turn of a Fox.'

Carrying each other, this puny superpowers duo, limping along, and singing regrets,

Somewhere over the rainbow, bluebirds fly

Birds fly over the rainbow

Why then, oh why, can't I?

If happy little bluebirds fly

Beyond the rainbow

Why, oh why, can't I? *)

Before leaving, the Moon said, 'So, be careful when you feel emotionally moved by a narration, and be even more careful when you agree with the narrative or when it makes you happy, because that’s when you need to watch out. And Allah knows best."

Citations & References:
- Alexis Conran, The Superpower of the Conman, Tedx Berlin
- James Northcote, RA, One Hundred Fables, Originals and Selected, J. Johnson
- Josep Jacobs, The Fables of Aesop, Macmillan & Co
- J.B. Rundell, Aesop's Fables, Cassell, Petter and Galpin
*) "Over the Rainbow" written by Edgar Yipsel Harburg & Harold Arlen

Bahasa

Symphony of the Silliness (2)

The Moon than carried on, "Only one rat escapes who, as stout as Julius Caesar, swam across and lived to carry home to the Rat-land, his commentary about the story of the Piper, for the rest of his days, 'Which was, at the first shrill notes of the pipe, I heard a sound as of scraping tripe, and putting apples, wondrous ripe, into a cider-press's gripe. And a moving away of pickle-tub-boards, and a leaving ajar of conserve-cupboards, and a drawing the corks of train-oil-flasks, and a breaking the hoops of butter-casks; and it seemed as if a voice, was breathed sweeter than by harp or by psaltery, called out, 'Oh rats, rejoice! The world is grown to one vast drysaltery! So munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon. Breakfast, supper, dinner, luncheon! And just as one bulky sugar-puncheon, ready staved, like a great sun shone glorious scarce an inch before me. Just as methought it said, 'Come, bore me!'—Then I found the Weser rolling over me.'

As for the Hamelin folks, they ringing the bells till rocked the steeple. 'Go,' cried the Mayor, 'and get long poles! Poke out the nests and block up the holes! Consult with carpenters and builders, and leave in our town not even a trace of the rats! — when suddenly up the face of them, the Piper perked in the market-place, saying, 'First, if you please, give me my thousand guilders!'

'A thousand guilders!' The Mayor looked blue, so did the Corporation. For council dinners with Claret, Moselle, Vin-de-Grave, Hock; and half the money would replenish their cellar's biggest butt with Rhenish, made rare havock to pay this sum to a wandering fellow, with a gipsy coat of red and yellow!

'Beside,' quoth the Mayor with a knowing wink, 'Our business was done at the river's brink; we saw with our eyes, the vermin sink, and what's dead can't come to life, I think. So, friend, we're not the folks to shrink srom the duty of giving you something for drink, and a matter of money to put in your poke. But, as for the guilders, what we spoke of them, as you very well know, was in joke. Beside, our losses have made us thrifty; A thousand guilders! Come, take fifty!' The Piper was confused, 'Fifty thousand or just fifty?' he asked. 'Fifty ... only!' The mayor's voice was hoarse. The Piper sighed, and said, 'Listen to this story,

In a transcontinental country, called Misr, every Beast was a God, for much on the other hand, was Man become a beast. That poor animal, which otherwise had neither house nor home, had its temple and holiday.

One Day, in the Cats Temple, they made a pompous sacrifice of a milk White Rat, without spot or flain. The next Day, was a Festival sacred to the honour of the god Rat, for it seems every God had its Day; and to make him propitious nothing left than a Cat muft bleed at his Altars.

Well, Puss marched very gravely along, crowned with flowers and ribbons, attended by a solemn procession of Priests, who extolled to the Skies the praises of the great God Rat. There was Chaunting enough, Hymns and Anthems in abundance, base, treble, and counter tenor, and such quaverings as you never heard the like.

Everyone entreated the Rat to take care of his farm. 'Do not punish us, dear God Rat, with the insults of these wicked Cats, and may the blood of this here revenge thy cause.'

'He a God!' cries the Cat; you cannot think so, what then am I that eat him? It was but yesterday you sacrificed to me, for me your centers smoked; why do yo thus pass from one extreme to another? I was a god and am now a victim.'

This was such a reproach that gave no small trouble, however, one stroke, of the hatchet, solved the difficulty.

Hearing this, the folktown got the Piper's intentions, and said, 'Mayor, just pay him!' Everybody urged the same answer. And the commotion started. Seeing the situation, the Mayor said, 'This is something we need to think about, go home, and give us some time!'

Next day, in a corner of town, a group of people carried banners, and shouted, 'We don't agree to pay the Piper!' In another corner, other group exclaimed, 'Don't pay!' Another group, waving banners, 'Repel him!' And there were still several groups shouting the same banner. The townfolk, who didn't really know them, joined in. And start here and there shouting, the Piper had got to go. 

The Piper's face fell, and he cried, 'Fine! Go with your silly symphony! No trifling! I can't wait, beside I've promised to visit by dinner time, Bagdat, and accept the prime of the Head Cook's pottage, all he's rich in, for having left, in the Caliph's kitchen, no survivor of a nest of scorpions —with him I proved no bargain-driver, with you, don't think I'll bate a stiver! And folks who put me in a passion, may find me pipe after another fashion.'

'How?' cried the Mayor, 'D'ye think I'll brook, being worse treated than a Cook? Insulted by a lazy ribald with idle pipe and vesture piebald? You threaten us, fellow? Do your worst, blow your pipe there till you burst!'

Once more, the Piper stepped into the street, and to his lips again, laid his long pipe of smooth straight cane. And ere he blew three notes—such sweet soft notes as yet musician's cunning that never gave the enraptured air.

There was a rustling, that seemed like a bustling of merry crowds, justling at pitching and hustling. Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering, little hands clapping and little tongues chattering.

And, like fowls in a farmyard, when barley is scattering, out came the children running. All the little boys and girls, with rosy cheeks and flaxen curls, and sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls, tripping and skipping, ran merrily after the wonderful music with shouting and laughter, singing,

You're no good, can't you see

Brother Louie, Louie, Louie

I'm in love - set you free

Oh, she's only looking to me

Only love breaks her heart

Brother Louie, Louie, Louie

Only love's paradise

Oh, she's only looking to me

Brother Louie, Louie, Louie

Oh, she's only looking to me

Oh, let it Louie

She is undercover

Brother Louie, Louie, Louie

Oh, doing what he's doing

So, leave it Louie

'Cause I'm her lover *)

The Mayor was dumb, and the Council stood as if they were changed into blocks of wood, anable to move a step, or cry to the children that merrily skipping by. And could only follow with the eye that joyous crowd at the Piper's back. But how the Mayor was on the rack, and the wretched Council's bosoms beat, as the Piper turned from the High Street to where the Weser rolled its waters, right in the way of their sons and daughters!

However, he turned from South to West, and his steps addressed to Koppelberg Hill, and the children pressed after him, great was the joy in every breast.

'He never can cross that mighty top! He's forced to let the piping drop,

and we shall see our children stop!' the Mayor and and Council were looking for justification. When, lo, as they reached the mountain's side,

a wondrous portal opened wide, as if a cavern was suddenly hollowed, and the Piper advanced, then the children followed, afterwards when all were in to the very last, the door in the mountain-side shut fast."

The Moon was starting to fade, the dawn approaching, it's time to go, "So folks, let you and me be wipers of scores out with all men—especially pipers: And, whether they pipe us free, from rats or from mice, if we've promised them aught, let us keep our promise.

According to the Piper story, we are all the people of Misr, and act like them, and as ridiculously idolatrous. What are our passions and ambitions but taghoot, which as occasion serves, we sacrifice the one to the other. And Allah know best."

Citations & References:
- Robert Browning, The Pied Piper of Hamelin, George Routledge and Sons
- Sieur De La Motte, One Hundred New Court Fables, Peter-Nofter-Row
- J.B. Rundell, Aesop's Fables, Cassell, Petter and Galpin
*) "Brother Louie 98" written by Eric Singleton

Bahasa

Symphony of the Silliness (1)

"I think, you've heard this story," the Moon opened the talk after saying Basmalah and Salaam. "Remember a story about 'The Pied Piper,' a short animated film produced by Walt Disney Productions? So, I'm going to tell you, a remake of this German legend.

It was said that more than five hundred years ago, Hamelin Town's in Brunswick, a prosperious port town. The deep and wide river Weser streamed, on the southern side, washes its wall, a most pleasant spot you never see. Barges full of corn would come down the River Weser and unload at Hemelin. With the silos full of corn and wheat, came mills for grinding the corn and wheat, bakeries for baking bread and cakes, shops for selling the bread and cakes, and, of course people for eating.

The townsfolk were so prosperous and busy loading and unloading, milling, baking and eating, they didn't notice all the litter and rubbish, was accumulating on the streets. And of course, with the rubbish, came the Rats, to visit then stayed.These Mr. and Mrs. Rats, brought a grave misfirtune. They fought the dogs and killed the cats, bit the babies in the cradles, ate the cheeses out of the vats, and licked the soup from the cook's own ladles. They split open the kegs of salted sprats, and made nests inside men's Holiday hats, and even spoiled the women's chats, by drowning their speaking, with shrieking and squeking in fifty different sharps and flats.

Something had to be done. People in the body came flocking to the Town Hall, and knocked on the big brass doors of the Town Hall and demanded to know, what the Mayor was doing about the rats 'Tis clear,' they cried, 'Our Mayor is a noddy, and as for our Corporation, shocking! To think we buy gowns lined with ermine, for dolts that can't or won’t determine, what’s best to get rid us out of the vermin! Do you think, because you’re old and obese, easily to find in the furry civic robe? Rouse up, sirs ! Give your brains a racking, to find the remedy we’re lacking, or, sure as fate, we’ll send you packing !'

At this, the Mayor and Corporation, quaked with a mighty consternation. For an hour they sate in council. At length, the Mayor broke silence, 'For a guilder I 'd sell my ermine gown, hence I wish I were a mile! It’s easy to bid one rack of one’s brain for I ’m sure my poor head aches again. I ’ve scratched it, and all in vain, just for a trap, a trap, a trap!'

Just as he said this, come about by chance, a gentle tap, coming at the chamber door. 'Bless us,' cried the Mayor, 'What’s that ?' With the Corporation, they looked little, though wondrous fat, nor brighter was his eye, nor moister than a too-long-opened oyster, except when at noon his paunch grew mutinous, for a plate of turtle green and glutinous, 'Only a scraping of shoes on the mat, anything like the sound of a rat, makes my heart go pit -a-pat!'

'Come in!'—the Mayor cried, looking bigger. And come in a strangest figure, with a queer long coat from heel to head, was half of yellow and half of red, and he himself was tall and thin, with sharp blue eyes, each like a pin, and light loose hair, yet swarthy skin. No tuft on cheek nor beard on chin, but lips where smiles went out and in. There was no guessing his kith and kin, nobody could enough admire the tall man and his quaint attire. 'It’s as my great-grandsire, starting up at the Trump of Doom’s tone, madly walked this way from his painted tombstone!' said one of them.

He advanced to the council-table and said, 'Please your honours. I ’m able, by means of a secret charm, to draw all creatures living beneath the sun, that creep or swim or fly or run, to follow me so as you never saw! And I chiefly use my charm, on creatures that do people harm, the mole, toad, newt and viper. People called me, the Pied Piper. And here, they noticed round his neck, a scarf of red and yellow stripe, to match with his coat of the self-same cheque. And at the scarf end, hung a pipe, they noticed his finger were ever straying, as if impatient to be playing. Upon this pipe, there was old fangles, dangled, over his vesture.

'Yes,' said he, 'I am a poor piper. Last June in Tartary, I freed the Cham, from his huge swarms of gnats. In Asia, I cased the Nizam of a monstrous brood of vampire-bats. As for the Rats, let me tell you a story,

Rats actually don't like cheese, they ate cheese because it was convenient, not because they liked it. Rats tend to prefer foods with lots of sugar. Cheese consists of proteins that aren’t usually sweet. That’s why you’re more likely to catch a rat in a trap baited with a small piece of chocolate rather than a hunk of cheese.

The story goes on with another question, 'If Bees could maintain a government, why may not the stronger brain and greater power, the Rats, be thought by Machiavellian Axioms taught as well?'

And so they are, for thus of late, it happened in the Rats’ free state. Their prince had got a mighty Cheshire Cheese, in which his ministers of state might live in plenty and grow great. A powerful party straight combined, and their united forces joined to bring their measures into play, for none so loyal as they were, and none such patriots to support the country as well as the court.

Not sooner were those Dons admitted, all those wond’rous virtues quitted. They all the speediest means devise, to raise themselves and families. Politicians tend to look out for themselves first.

Another party well observing, these were pampered, while they were starving. Their ministry brought in disgrace, expelled them and supplied their place. These on just principles were known as the true supporters of the throne.

And for the subject’s liberty, they’d freely die; but being well fixed in their station, regardless of their state and nation. Just like the others, all their skill was how they might their paunches fill. On this, a Rat not quite so blind in state intrigues as human kind, but of more honour, thus replied, 'Confound ye all on either side. All your contentions are but these, the politicians all set about finding ways to get to the cheese first.'

Today, more foods are easily accessible. That means rats are much more likely to go after things they like, such as sugar and grains. Abd you knew what that meant.

'If I can rid your Town from the Rats,' said the Piper, 'Will you give me a thousand guilders?'

'One? Nay, fifty thousand!' the Major and Corporation exclaimed in astonishment.

The Piper stepped Into the street, with smilining a little smile, as if he knew what magic slept in his quiet pipe for a while. Then, he wrinkled his lips to blow the pipe like a musical adept. His sharp eyes twinkled in green and blue, like a candle-flame where salt is sprinkled. And ere three shrill notes the pipe uttered, you would hear it as if an army muttered. And the muttering grew to a grumbling, the grew to a mighty rumbling, out of the houses, the rats came tumbling. Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats. Brown rats, black rats, grey rats, tawny rats. Grave old walked doggedly and slowly with heavy steps, unsettled young gay walked in dance.

Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins, cocking tails and pricking whiskers. Families by tens and dozens, brothers, sisters, husbands, wives—followed the Piper for their lives. Advancing from street to street he piped, and step for step, they followed dancing, until they came to the river Weser, wherein all plunged and perished!

[Part 2]

Bahasa