Folk Tales of the Russian Empire. Коллектив авторов

would then knock all the dust out of me,” continued the Shirt, “and leave the clean body. They would hang me on a combing machine and divide into thin fibres, and then they would spin me for some time. A spun yarn they would wind round a reel, and put it into alkaline liquor. Then it will be hard to survive, because they would clog up my eyes with ash, so that I could see nothing. Yes, I can’t see now…”

      “And I don’t wanna hear it any more!” said the evil spirit and was about to fly into the house, but at that time the cock crowed the next time, and the devil disappeared.

      He reappeared on the third night, feeling a little irritated at that tricky shirt. But the Hempen Shirt continued its tale:

      “Okay dear, they should wash me off, then dry, make the coils, pass through a reed, then weave, and only then I’ll turn into a canvas.”

      “Hey, is that all now?” asked the evil spirit. “Let me go!”

      “There is no standing still,” said the Shirt. “You should listen to the whole tale… They would boil the canvas in alkaline water, lay it on the green grass and wash it from the ash. And then the three or four of them would crush me for the second time, until I got soft. After that they would cut off a piece of canvas, as you want, and sew a shirt. Only then the seed, that was thrown down into the ground long before, could turn into the Hempen Shirt, which now is curtaining the door…”

      There again crowed the rooster in the yard, and the evil spirit had to get out of his way empty-handed. After all, he had been tired of standing at the door and listening to “the old wives” tales”…

      Since then, he had lost interest in his job and left the young widow alone.

      The Irony of Fate

      A Tajik folk tale

      The Tajiks are the most prominent indigenous non-Turkic population in Central Asia. They are of Persian/Iranian ethnic descent, although their exact origin is subject to debate. Legends link the Tajiks with Alexander the Great and his campaign in the region north of Afghanistan and west of China – what is today Tajikistan.

      Encyclopedia of Russian History, editor in chief James Millar

      In the old days there lived a rich man in a city – Agha. Every morning after his breakfast, he used to have a rest lying on a sofa, on the top of seven blankets. Sometimes he called his wife and began to blow his horn:

      “Hey, woman, you are swimming in luxury and prosperity under the shadow of my brilliant mind and my inexhaustible wealth. Women all over the city pay honour to you, an ordinary and poor girl, because of my high position and far-reaching influence. Only thanks to my good fortune, you have never felt hunger and thirst. A thousand times you should praise the Almighty for your wise and intelligent husband!”

      All this time the wife of Agha stood before him bowing her head. She was totally overawed by her husband.

      Every day, she got up before dawn. All day long she had been on the fly, cooking meals, feeding the cattle, milking the cows, sweeping the yard or cleaning the house. In the evening, she used to cook tasty treats for some friends of her husband and then she served his insatiable guests. The greedy master had not given her helpers, and the good woman coped with all the work by herself. Moreover, she embroidered skullcaps at odd moments, after all the cases. The woman next door then sold them at a high price, and the wife gave all the money to her husband.

      One day, when the rich man began to praise himself and to blame his wife for the next time, she could not be patient any longer and said:

      “For a long time, I was also thinking that only thanks to you I have been clad and shod. But over time I realized that there was a large share of my work in increasing your wealth, and you have no reason to reproach me.”