The Kingdom of Cards by Rabindranath Tagore
Once upon a time there was a lonely island in a distant sea where lived
the Kings and Queens, the Aces and the Knaves, in the Kingdom of Cards.
The Tens and Nines, with the Twos and Threes, and all the other members,
had long ago settled there also. But these were not twice-born people,
like the famous Court Cards.
The Ace, the King, and the Knave were the three highest castes. The fourth
Caste was made up of a mixture of the lower Cards. The Twos and Threes
were lowest of all. These inferior Cards were never allowed to sit in the
same row with the great Court Cards.
Wonderful indeed were the regulations and rules of that island kingdom.
The particular rank of each individual had been settled from time
immemorial. Every one had his own appointed work, and never did anything
else. An unseen hand appeared to be directing them wherever they went,—according
to the Rules.
No one in the Kingdom of Cards had any occasion to think: no one had any
need to come to any decision: no one was ever required to debate any new
subject. The citizens all moved along in a listless groove without speech.
When they fell, they made no noise. They lay down on their backs, and
gazed upward at the sky with each prim feature firmly fixed for ever.
There was a remarkable stillness in the Kingdom of Cards. Satisfaction and
contentment were complete in all their rounded wholeness. There was never
any uproar or violence. There was never any excitement or enthusiasm.
The great ocean, crooning its lullaby with one unceasing melody, lapped
the island to sleep with a thousand soft touches of its wave's white
hands. The vast sky, like the outspread azure wings of the brooding
mother-bird, nestled the island round with its downy plume. For on the
distant horizon a deep blue line betokened another shore. But no sound of
quarrel or strife could reach the Island of Cards, to break its calm
In that far-off foreign land across the sea, there lived a young Prince
whose mother was a sorrowing queen. This queen had fallen from favour, and
was living with her only son on the seashore. The Prince passed his
childhood alone and forlorn, sitting by his forlorn mother, weaving the
net of his big desires. He longed to go in search of the Flying Horse, the
Jewel in the Cobra's hood, the Rose of Heaven, the Magic Roads, or to find
where the Princess Beauty was sleeping in the Ogre's castle over the
thirteen rivers and across the seven seas.
From the Son of the Merchant at school the young Prince learnt the stories
of foreign kingdoms. From the Son of the Kotwal he learnt the adventures
of the Two Genii of the Lamp. And when the rain came beating down, and the
clouds covered the sky, he would sit on the threshold facing the sea, and
say to his sorrowing mother: "Tell me, mother, a story of some very
And his mother would tell him an endless tale she had heard in her
childhood of a wonderful country beyond the sea where dwelt the Princess
Beauty. And the heart of the young Prince would become sick with longing,
as he sat on the threshold, looking out on the ocean, listening to his
mother's wonderful story, while the rain outside came beating down and the
grey clouds covered the sky.
One day the Son of the Merchant came to the Prince, and said boldly:
"Comrade, my studies are over. I am now setting out on my travels to seek
my fortunes on the sea. I have come to bid you good-bye."
The Prince said; "I will go with you."
And the Son of Kotwal said also: "Comrades, trusty and true, you will not
leave me behind. I also will be your companion."
Then the young Prince said to his sorrowing mother; "Mother, I am now
setting out on my travels to seek my fortune. When I come back once more,
I shall surely have found some way to remove all your sorrow."
So the Three Companions set out on their travels together. In the harbour
were anchored the twelve ships of the merchant, and the Three Companions
got on board. The south wind was blowing, and the twelve ships sailed
away, as fast as the desires which rose in the Prince's breast.
At the Conch Shell Island they filled one ship with conchs. At the Sandal
Wood Island they filled a second ship with sandal-wood, and at the Coral
Island they filled a third ship with coral.
Four years passed away, and they filled four more ships, one with ivory,
one with musk, one with cloves, and one with nutmegs.
But when these ships were all loaded a terrible tempest arose. The ships
were all of them sunk, with their cloves and nutmeg, and musk and ivory,
and coral and sandal-wood and conchs. But the ship with the Three
Companions struck on an island reef, buried them safe ashore, and itself
broke in pieces.
This was the famous Island of Cards, where lived the Ace and King and
Queen and Knave, with the Nines and Tens and all the other Members—according
to the Rules.
Up till now there had been nothing to disturb that island stillness. No
new thing had ever happened. No discussion had ever been held.
And then, of a sudden, the Three Companions appeared, thrown up by the
sea,—and the Great Debate began. There were three main points of
First, to what caste should these unclassed strangers belong? Should they
rank with the Court Cards? Or were they merely lower-caste people, to be
ranked with the Nines and Tens? No precedent could be quoted to decide
this weighty question.
Secondly, what was their clan? Had they the fairer hue and bright
complexion of the Hearts, or was theirs the darker complexion of the
Clubs? Over this question there were interminable disputes. The whole
marriage system of the island, with its intricate regulations, would
depend on its nice adjustment.
Thirdly, what food should they take? With whom should they live and sleep?
And should their heads be placed south-west, north-west, or only
north-east? In all the Kingdom of Cards a series of problems so vital and
critical had never been debated before.
But the Three Companions grew desperately hungry. They had to get food in
some way or other. So while this debate went on, with its interminable
silence and pauses, and while the Aces called their own meeting, and
formed themselves into a Committee, to find some obsolete dealing with the
question, the Three Companions themselves were eating all they could find,
and drinking out of every vessel, and breaking all regulations.
Even the Twos and Threes were shocked at this outrageous behaviour. The
Threes said; "Brother Twos, these people are openly shameless!" And the
Twos said: "Brother Threes, they are evidently of lower caste than
ourselves!" After their meal was over, the Three Companions went for a
stroll in the city.
When they saw the ponderous people moving in their dismal processions with
prim and solemn faces, then the Prince turned to the Son of the Merchant
and the Son of the Kotwal, and threw back his head, and gave one
Down Royal Street and across Ace Square and along the Knave Embankment ran
the quiver of this strange, unheard-of laughter, the laughter that, amazed
at itself, expired in the vast vacuum of silence.
The Son of the Kotwal and the Son of the Merchant were chilled through to
the bone by the ghost-like stillness around them. They turned to the
Prince, and said: "Comrade, let us away. Let us not stop for a moment in
this awful land of ghosts."
But the Prince said: "Comrades, these people resemble men, so I am going
to find out, by shaking them upside down and outside in, whether they have
a single drop of warm living blood left in their veins."
The days passed one by one, and the placid existence of the Island went on
almost without a ripple. The Three Companions obeyed no rules nor
regulations. They never did anything correctly either in sitting or
standing or turning themselves round or lying on their back. On the
contrary, wherever they saw these things going on precisely and exactly
according to the Rules, they gave way to inordinate laughter. They
remained unimpressed altogether by the eternal gravity of those eternal
One day the great Court Cards came to the Son of the Kotwal and the Son of
the Merchant and the Prince.
"Why," they asked slowly, "are you not moving according to the Rules?"
The Three Companions answered: "Because that is our Ichcha (wish)."
The great Court Cards with hollow, cavernous voices, as if slowly
awakening from an age-long dream, said together: "Ich-cha! And pray who is
They could not understand who Ichcha was then, but the whole island was to
understand it by-and-by. The first glimmer of light passed the threshold
of their minds when they found out, through watching the actions of the
Prince, that they might move in a straight line in an opposite direction
from the one in which they had always gone before. Then they made another
startling discovery, that there was another side to the Cards which they
had never yet noticed with attention. This was the beginning of the
Now that the change had begun, the Three Companions were able to initiate
them more and more deeply into the mysteries of Ichcha. The Cards
gradually became aware that life was not bound by regulations. They began
to feel a secret satisfaction in the kingly power of choosing for
But with this first impact of Ichcha the whole pack of cards began to
totter slowly, and then tumble down to the ground. The scene was like that
of some huge python awaking from a long sleep, as it slowly unfolds its
numberless coils with a quiver that runs through its whole frame.
Hitherto the Queens of Spades and Clubs and Diamonds and Hearts had
remained behind curtains with eyes that gazed vacantly into space, or else
remained fixed upon the ground.
And now, all of a sudden, on an afternoon in spring the Queen of Hearts
from the balcony raised her dark eyebrows for a moment, and cast a single
glance upon the Prince from the corner of her eye.
"Great God," cried the Prince, "I thought they were all painted images.
But I am wrong. They are women after all."
Then the young Prince called to his side his two Companions, and said in a
meditative voice; "My comrades! There is a charm about these ladies that I
never noticed before. When I saw that glance of the Queen's dark, luminous
eyes, brightening with new emotion, it seemed to me like the first faint
streak of dawn in a newly created world."
The two Companions smiled a knowing smile, and said: "Is that really so,
And the poor Queen of Hearts from that day went from bad to worse. She
began to forget all rules in a truly scandalous manner. If, for instance,
her place in the row was beside the Knave, she suddenly found herself
quite accidentally standing beside the Prince instead. At this, the Knave,
with motionless face and solemn voice, would say: "Queen, you have made a
And the poor Queen of Hearts' red cheeks would get redder than ever. But
the Prince would come gallantly to her rescue and say: "No! There is no
mistake. From to-day I am going to be Knave!"
Now it came to pass that, while every one was trying to correct the
improprieties of the guilty Queen of Hearts, they began to make mistakes
themselves. The Aces found themselves elbowed out by the Kings. The Kings
got muddled up with the Knaves. The Nines and Tens assumed airs as though
they belonged to the Great Court Cards. The Twos and Threes were found
secretly taking the places specially resented for the Fours and Fives.
Confusion had never been so confounded before.
Many spring seasons had come and gone in that Island of Cards. The Kokil,
the bird of Spring, had sung its song year after year. But it had never
stirred the blood as it stirred it now. In days gone by the sea had sung
its tireless melody. But, then, it had proclaimed only the inflexible
monotony of the Rule. And suddenly its waves were telling, through all
their flashing light and luminous shade and myriad voices, the deepest
yearnings of the heart of love!
Where are vanished now their prim, round, regular, complacent features?
Here is a face full of love-sick longing. Here is a heart heating wild
with regrets. Here is a mind racked sore with doubts. Music and sighing,
and smiles and tears, are filling the air. Life is throbbing; hearts are
breaking; passions are kindling.
Every one is now thinking of his own appearance, and comparing himself
with others. The Ace of Clubs is musing to himself, that the King of
Spades may be just passably good-looking. "But," says he, "when I walk
down the street you have only to see how people's eyes turn towards me."
The King of Spades is saying; "Why on earth is that Ace of Clubs always
straining his neck and strutting about like a peacock? He imagines all the
Queens are dying of love for him, while the real fact is—" Here he
pauses, and examines his face in the glass.
But the Queens were the worst of all. They began to spend all their time
in dressing themselves up to the Nines. And the Nines would become their
hopeless and abject slaves. But their cutting remarks about one another
were more shocking still.
So the young men would sit listless on the leaves under the trees, lolling
with outstretched limbs in the forest shade. And the young maidens,
dressed in pale-blue robes, would come walking accidentally to the same
shade of the same forest by the same trees, and turn their eyes as though
they saw no one there, and look as though they came out to see nothing at
all. And then one young man more forward than the rest in a fit of madness
would dare to go near to a maiden in blue. But, as he drew near, speech
would forsake him. He would stand there tongue-tied and foolish, and the
favourable moment would pass.
The Kokil birds were singing in the boughs overhead. The mischievous South
wind was blowing; it disarrayed the hair, it whispered in the ear, and
stirred the music in the blood. The leaves of the trees were murmuring
with rustling delight. And the ceaseless sound of the ocean made all the
mute longings of the heart of man and maid surge backwards and forwards on
the full springtide of love.
The Three Companions had brought into the dried-up channels of the Kingdom
of Cards the full flood-tide of a new life.
And, though the tide was full, there-was a pause as though the rising
waters would not break into foam but remain suspended for ever. There were
no outspoken words, only a cautious going forward one step and receding
two. All seemed busy heaping up their unfulfilled desires like castles in
the air, or fortresses of sand. They were pale and speechless, their eyes
were burning, their lips trembling with unspoken secrets.
The Prince saw what was wrong. He summoned every one on the Island and
said: "Bring hither the flutes and the cymbals, the pipes and drums. Let
all be played together, and raise loud shouts of rejoicing. For the Queen
of Hearts this very night is going to choose her Mate!"
So the Tens and Nines began to blow on their flutes and pipes; the Eights
and Sevens played on their sackbuts and viols; and even the Twos and
Threes began to beat madly on their drums.
When this tumultous gust of music came, it swept away at one blast all
those sighings and mopings. And then what a torrent of laughter and words
poured forth! There were daring proposals and locking refusals, and gossip
and chatter, and jests and merriment. It was like the swaying and shaking,
and rustling and soughing, in a summer gale, of a million leaves and
branches in the depth of the primeval forest.
But the Queen of Hearts, in a rose-red robe, sat silent in the shadow of
her secret bower, and listened to the great uproarious sound of music and
mirth, that came floating towards her. She shut her eyes, and dreamt her
dream of lore. And when she opened them she found the Prince seated on the
ground before her gazing up at her face. And she covered her eyes with
both hands, and shrank back quivering with an inward tumult of joy.
And the Prince passed the whole day alone, walking by the side of the
surging sea. He carried in his mind that startled look, that shrinking
gesture of the Queen, and his heart beat high with hope.
That night the serried, gaily-dressed ranks of young men and maidens
waited with smiling faces at the Palace Gates. The Palace Hall was lighted
with fairy lamps and festooned with the flowers of spring. Slowly the
Queen of Hearts entered, and the whole assembly rose to greet her. With a
jasmine garland in her hand, she stood before the Prince with downcast
eyes. In her lowly bashfulness she could hardly raise the garland to the
neck of the Mate she had chosen. But the Prince bowed his head, and the
garland slipped to its place. The assembly of youths and maidens had
waited her choice with eager, expectant hush. And when the choice was
made, the whole vast concourse rocked and swayed with a tumult of wild
delight. And the sound of their shouts was heard in every part of the
island, and by ships far out at sea. Never had such a shout been raised in
the Kingdom of Cards before.
And they carried the Prince and his Bride, and seated them on the throne,
and crowned them then and there in the Ancient Island of Cards.
And the sorrowing Mother Queen, on the 'far-off island shore on the other
side of the sea, came sailing to her son's new kingdom in a ship adorned
And the citizens are no longer regulated according to the Rules, but are
good or bad, or both, according to their Ichcha.