Chapter LXII
The next
morning Naraváhanadatta got up, and went into the presence of the king of Vatsa
his loving father. There he found Sinhavarman, the brother of the queen
Padmávatí and the son of the king of Magadha, who had come there from his own
house. The day passed in expressions of welcome, and friendly conversation, and
after Naraváhanadatta had had dinner, he returned home. There the wise Gomukha
told this story at night, in order to console him who was longing for the
society of Śaktiyaśas.
Story
of the war between the crows and the owls.
There was
in a certain place a great and shady banyan-tree, which seemed, with the voices
of its birds, to summon travellers to repose. There a king of the crows, named
Meghavarṇa, had established his home, and he had an enemy named Avamarda, king
of the owls. The king of the owls surprised the king of the crows there at
night, and after inflicting a defeat on him and killing many crows, departed.
The next morning the king of the crows, after the usual compliments, said to
his ministers Uḍḍívin, Áḍívin, Saṇḍívin, Praḍívin, and Chirajívin: “That
powerful enemy, who has thus defeated us, may get together a hundred thousand
soldiers, and make another descent on us. So let some preventive measure be
devised for this case.” When Uḍḍívin heard this, he said; “King, with a
powerful enemy, one must either retire to another country, or adopt
conciliation.” When Áḍívin heard this, he said, “The danger is not immediate;
let us consider the intentions of the adversary and our own power, and do the
best we can.” Then Saṇḍívin said, “King, death is preferable to submission to
the foe, or retiring to another country. We must go and fight with that feeble
enemy; a brave and enterprising king, who possesses allies, conquers his foes.”
Then Praḍívin said, “He is too powerful to be conquered in battle, but we must
make a truce with him, and kill him when we get an opportunity.” Then
Chirajívin said, “What truce? Who will be ambassador? There is war between the
crows and the owls from time immemorial; who will go to them? This must be
accomplished by policy; policy is said to be the very foundation of empires.”
When the king of the crows heard that, he said to Chirajívin,—“You are old;
tell me if you know, what was originally the cause of the war between the crows
and the owls. You shall state your policy afterwards.” When Chirajívin heard
this, he answered, “It is all due to an inconsiderate utterance. Have you never
heard the story of the donkey?”
Story
of the ass in the panther’s skin.
A certain
washerman had a thin donkey; so, in order to make it fat, he used to cover it
with the skin of a panther and let it loose to feed in his neighbour’s corn.
While it was eating the corn, people were afraid to drive it away, thinking
that it was a panther. One day a cultivator, who had a bow in his hand, saw it.
He thought it was a panther, and through fear bending down, and making himself
humpbacked, he proceeded to creep away, with his body covered with a rug. When
the donkey saw him going away in this style, he thought he was another donkey,
and being primed with corn, he uttered aloud his own asinine bray. Then the
cultivator came to the conclusion that it was a donkey, and returning, killed
with an arrow the foolish animal, which had made an enemy with its own voice.
“In the same way our feud with the crows is due to an inconsiderate utterance.”
How
the crow dissuaded the birds from choosing the owl king.
For once
upon a time the birds were without a king. They all assembled together, and
bringing an umbrella and a chowrie, were proceeding to anoint the owl king of
the birds. In the meanwhile a crow, flying in the air above, saw it, and said;
“You fools, are there not other birds, cuckoos and so on, that you must make this
cruel-eyed unpleasant-looking wicked bird king? Out on the inauspicious owl!
You must elect a heroic king whose name will ensure prosperity. Listen now, I
will tell you a tale.
Story
of the elephants and the hares.
There is a
great lake abounding in water, called Chandrasaras. And on its bank there lived
a king of the hares, named Śilímukha. Now, once on a time, a leader of a herd
of elephants, named Chaturdanta, came there to drink water, because all the
other reservoirs of water were dried up in the drought that prevailed. Then
many of the hares, who were the subjects of that king, were trampled to death
by Chaturdanta’s herd, while entering the lake. When that monarch of the herd
had departed, the hare-king Śilímukha, being grieved, said to a hare named
Vijaya in the presence of the others; “Now that that lord of elephants has
tasted the water of this lake, he will come here again and again, and utterly
destroy us all, so think of some expedient in this case. Go to him, and see if
you have any artifice which will suit the purpose or not. For you know business
and expedients, and are an ingenious orator. And in all cases in which you have
been engaged the result has been fortunate.” When despatched with these words,
the hare was pleased, and went slowly on his way. And following up the track of
the herd, he overtook that elephant-king and saw him, and being determined
somehow or other to have an interview with the mighty beast, the wise hare
climbed up to the top of a rock, and said to the elephant; “I am the ambassador
of the moon, and this is what the god says to you by my mouth; ‘I dwell in a
cool lake named Chandrasaras; there dwell hares whose king I am, and I love
them well, and thence I am known to men as the cool-rayed and the hare-marked;
now thou hast defiled that lake and slain those hares of mine. If thou do that
again, thou shalt receive thy due recompense from me.’” When the king of
elephants heard this speech of the crafty hare’s, he said in his terror; “I
will never do so again: I must shew respect to the awful moon-god.” The hare
said,—“So come, my friend, I pray, and we will shew him to you.” After saying
this, the hare led the king of elephants to the lake, and shewed him the
reflection of the moon in the water. When the lord of the herd saw that, he
bowed before it timidly at a distance, oppressed with awe, and never came there
again. And Śilímukha, the king of the hares, was present, and witnessed the
whole transaction, and after honouring that hare, who went as an ambassador, he
lived there in security.
When the
crow had told this story, he went on to say to the birds, “This is the right
sort of king, whose name alone ensures none of his subjects being injured. So
why does this base owl, who cannot see in the day, deserve a throne? And a base
creature is never to be trusted, hear this tale in proof of it.”
Story
of the bird, the hare, and the cat.
Once on a
time I lived in a certain tree, and below me in the same tree a bird, named
Kapinjala, had made a nest and lived. One day he went away somewhere, and he
did not return for many days. In the meanwhile a hare came and took possession
of his nest. After some days Kapinjala returned, and an altercation arose
between him and the hare, as both laid claim to the nest, exclaiming; “It is mine,
not yours.” Then they both set out in search of a qualified arbitrator. And I,
out of curiosity, followed them unobserved, to see what would turn up. After
they had gone a little way they saw on the bank of a lake a cat, who pretended
to have taken a vow of abstinence from injury to all creatures, with his eyes
half-closed in meditation. They said to one another; “Why should we not ask
this holy cat here to declare what is just?”—Then they approached the cat and
said; “Reverend sir, hear our cause, for you are a holy ascetic.” When the cat
heard that, he said to them in a low voice,—“I am weak from self-mortification,
so I cannot hear at a distance, pray, come near me. For a case wrongly decided
brings temporal and eternal death.” With these words the cat encouraged them to
come just in front of him, and then the base creature killed at one spring both
the hare and Kapinjala.
“So, you
see, one cannot confide in villains whose actions are base. Accordingly you
must not make this owl king, for he is a great villain.” When the crow said
this to the birds, they admitted the force of it, and gave up the idea of
anointing the owl king, and dispersed in all directions. And the owl said to
the crow; “Remember; from this day forth you and I are enemies. Now I take my
leave of you.” And he went away in a rage. But the crow, though he thought that
he had spoken what was right, was for a moment despondent. Who is not grieved
when he has involved himself in a dangerous quarrel by a mere speech?
“So you see
that our feud with the owls arose from an inconsiderate utterance.” Having said
this to the king, Chirajívin continued, “The owls are numerous and strong, and
you cannot conquer them. Numbers prevail in this world, hear an instance.”
Story
of the Bráhman, the goat, and the rogues.
A Bráhman
had bought a goat, and was returning from a village with it on his shoulder,
when he was seen on the way by many rogues, who wished to deprive him of the
goat. And one of them came up to him, and pretending to be in a great state of
excitement, said; “Bráhman, how come you to have this dog on your shoulder? Put
it down.” When the Bráhman heard that, he paid no attention to it, but went on
his way. Then two more came up and said the very same thing to him. Then he
began to doubt, and went along examining the goat carefully, when three other
rascals came up to him and said: “How comes it that you carry a dog and a
sacrificial thread at the same time? Surely you must be a hunter, not a
Bráhman, and this is the dog with the help of which you kill game.” When the
Bráhman heard that, he said: “Surely some demon has smitten my sight and
bewildered me. Can all these men be under the influence of an optical
delusion?” Thereupon the Bráhman flung down the goat, and after bathing,
returned home, and the rogues took the goat and made a satisfactory meal off
it.
After
Chirajívin had told this tale, he said to the king of the crows: “So you see,
king, numerous and powerful foes are hard to conquer. So you had better adopt,
in this war with powerful foes, the following expedient, which I suggest. Pluck
out some of my feathers, and leave me under this tree, and go to that hill
there, until I return, having accomplished my object. The king of the crows
agreed, and plucked out some of his feathers, as if in anger, and placed him
under the tree, and went off to the mountain with his followers: and Chirajívin
remained lying flat under the tree which was his home.
Then the
king of the owls, Avamarda, came there at night with his followers, and he did
not see a single crow on the tree. At that moment Chirajívin uttered a feeble
caw below, and the king of the owls, hearing it, came down, and saw him lying
there. In his astonishment he asked him who he was, and why he was in that
state. And Chirajívin answered, pretending that his voice was weak from pain;
“I am Chirajívin, the minister of that king of the crows. And he wished to make
an attack on you in accordance with the advice of his ministers. Then I rebuked
those other ministers, and said to him, ‘If you ask me for advice, and if I am
valued by you, in that case you will not make war with the powerful king of the
owls. But you will endeavour to propitiate him, if you have any regard for
policy.’ When the foolish king of the crows heard that, he exclaimed, ‘This
fellow is a partisan of my enemies,’ and in his wrath, he and his followers
pecked me, and reduced me to this state. And he flung me down under the tree,
and went off somewhere or other with his followers.” When Chirajívin had said
this, he sighed, and turned his face to the ground. And then the king of the
owls asked his ministers what they ought to do with Chirajívin. When his
minister Díptanayana heard this, he said, “Good people spare even a thief,
though ordinarily he ought not to be spared, if they find that he is a
benefactor.”
Story
of the old merchant and his young wife.
For once on
a time there was a certain merchant in a certain town, who, though old, managed
to marry by the help of his wealth a young girl of the merchant caste. And she
was always averse to him on account of his old age, as the bee turns away from
the forest-tree when the time of flowers is past. And one night a thief got
into his house, while the husband and wife were in bed; and, when the wife saw
him, she was afraid, and turned round and embraced her husband. The merchant
thought that a wonderful piece of good fortune, and while looking in all
directions for the explanation, he saw the thief in a corner. The merchant
said; “You have done me a benefit, so I will not have you killed by my
servants.” And so he spared his life and sent him away.
“So we
ought to spare the life of this Chirajívin, as he is our benefactor.” When the
minister Díptanayana had said this, he remained silent. Then the king of the
owls said to another minister, named Vakranása, “What ought we to do? Give me
proper advice.” Then Vakranása said, “He should be spared, for he knows the
secrets of our foes. This quarrel between the enemies’ king and his minister is
for our advantage. Listen, and I will tell you a story which will illustrate
it.”
Story
of the Bráhman, the thief, and the Rákshasa.
A certain
excellent Bráhman received two cows as a donation. A thief happened to see
them, and began plotting how to carry them off. At that very time a Rákshasa was
longing to eat that Bráhman. It happened that the thief and the Rákshasa, as
they were going to his house at night to accomplish their objects, met, and
telling one another their errands, went together. When the thief and the
Rákshasa entered the Bráhman’s dwelling, they began to wrangle. The thief said;
“I will carry off the oxen first, for if you lay hold of the Bráhman first, and
he wakes up, how can I get the yoke of oxen?” The Rákshasa said; “By no means!
I will first carry off the Bráhman, otherwise he will wake up with the noise of
the feet of the oxen, and my labour will all be in vain.” While this was going
on, the Bráhman woke up. Then he took his sword, and began to recite a charm
for destroying Rákshasas, and the thief and the Rákshasa both fled.
“So the
quarrel between those two, Chirajívin and the king of the crows, will be to our
advantage, as the quarrel between the thief and the Rákshasa was to the
advantage of the Bráhman.” When Vakranása said this, the king of the owls asked
his minister Prákárakarṇa for his opinion, and he answered him; “This
Chirajívin should be treated with compassion, as he is in distress, and has
applied to us for protection: in old time Śivi offered his flesh for the sake
of one who sought his protection. When the king of the owls heard this from
Prákárakarṇa, he asked the advice of his minister Krúralochana, and he gave him
the same answer.
Then the
king of the owls asked a minister named Raktáksha, and he, being a discreet
minister, said to him; “King, these ministers have done their best to ruin you
by impolitic advice. Those, who know policy, place no confidence in the acts of
a hereditary enemy. It is only a fool that, though he sees the fault, is
satisfied with insincere flattery.”
Story
of the carpenter and his wife.
For once on
a time there was a carpenter, who had a wife whom he loved dearly; and the
carpenter heard from his neighbours that she was in love with another man; so,
wishing to test the fidelity of his wife, he said to her one day: “My dear, I am
by command of the king going a long journey to-day, in order to do a job, so
give me barley-meal and other things as provision for the journey.” She obeyed
and gave him provisions, and he went out of the house; and then secretly came
back into it, and with a pupil of his hid himself under the bed. As for the
wife, she summoned her paramour. And while she was sitting with him on the bed,
the wicked woman happened to touch her husband with her foot, and found out
that he was there. And a moment after, her paramour, being puzzled, asked her
which she loved the best, himself or her husband. When she heard this, the
artful and treacherous woman said to that lover of hers; “I love my husband
best, for his sake I would surrender my life. As for this unfaithfulness of
mine, it is natural to women; they would even eat dirt, if they had no noses.”
When the
carpenter heard this hypocritical speech of the adulteress, he came out from
under the bed, and said to his pupil; “You have seen, you are my witness to
this; though my wife has betaken herself to this lover, she is still so devoted
to me; so I will carry her on my head.” When the silly fellow had said this, he
immediately took them both up, as they sat on the bed, upon his head, with the
help of his pupil, and carried them about.
“So an
undiscerning blockhead, though he sees a crime committed before his eyes, is
satisfied with hypocritical flattery, and makes himself ridiculous. So you must
not spare Chirajívin, who is a follower of your enemy, for, if not carefully
watched, he might slay your Majesty in a moment, like a disease.” When the king
of the owls heard Raktáksha say this, he answered; “It was in trying to benefit
us that the worthy creature was reduced to this state. So how can we do
otherwise than spare his life? Besides, what harm can he do us unaided?” So the
king of the owls rejected the advice of Raktáksha, and comforted that crow
Chirajívin. Then Chirajívin said to the king of the owls, “What is the use to
me of life, now that I am in this state? So have logs of wood brought me, in
order that I may enter the fire. And I will ask the fire as a boon, that I may
be born again as an owl, in order that I may wreak my vengeance upon this king
of the crows.” When he said this, Raktáksha laughed and said to him; “By the
favour of our master you will be well enough off: what need is there of fire?
Moreover you will never become an owl, as long as you have the nature of a
crow. Every creature is such as he is made by the Creator.”
Story
of the mouse that was turned into a maiden.
For once on
a time a hermit found a young mouse, which had escaped from the claws of a
kite, and pitying it, made it by the might of his asceticism into a young
maiden. And he brought her up in his hermitage; and, when he saw that she had
grown up, wishing to give her to a powerful husband, he summoned the sun. And
he said to the sun; “Marry this maiden, whom I wish to give in marriage to some
mighty one.” Then the sun answered, “The cloud is more powerful than I, he
obscures me in a moment.” When the hermit heard that, he dismissed the sun, and
summoned the cloud, and made the same proposal to him. He replied, “The wind is
more powerful than I: he drives me into any quarter of the heaven he pleases.”
When the hermit got this answer, he summoned the wind and made the same
proposal to him. And the wind replied, “The mountains are stronger than I, for
I cannot move them.” When the great hermit heard this, he summoned the
Himálaya, and made the same proposal to him. That mountain answered him; “The
mice are stronger than I am, for they dig holes in me.”
Having thus
got these answers in succession from those wise divinities, the great ṛishi
summoned a forest mouse, and said to him, “Marry this maiden.” Thereupon the
mouse said, “Shew me how she is to be got into my hole.” Then the hermit said,
“It is better that she should return to her condition as a mouse.” So he made
her a mouse again, and gave her to that male mouse.
“So a
creature returns to what it was, at the end of a long peregrination,
accordingly you, Chirajívin, will never become an owl.” When Raktáksha said
this to Chirajívin, the latter reflected; “This king has not acted on the
advice of this minister, who is skilled in policy. All these others are fools,
so my object is gained.” While he was thus reflecting, the king of the owls
took Chirajívin with him to his own fortress, confiding in his own strength,
disregarding the advice of Raktáksha. And Chirajívin, being about his person,
and fed with pieces of meat and other delicacies by him, soon acquired as
splendid a plumage as a peacock. One day, Chirajívin said to the king of the
owls; “King, I will go and encourage that king of the crows and bring him back
to his dwelling, in order that you may attack him this night and slay him, and
that I may make some return for this favour of yours. But do you all fortify
your door with grass and other things, and remain in the cave where your nests
are, that they may not attack you by day.” When, by saying this, Chirajívin had
made the owls retire into their cave, and barricade the door and the approaches
to the cave, with grass and leaves, he went back to his own king. And with him
he returned, carrying a brand from a pyre, all ablaze, in his beak, and every
one of the crows that followed him had a piece of wood hanging down from his
beak. And the moment he arrived, he set on fire the door of the cave, in which
were those owls, creatures that are blind by day, which had been barricaded
with dry grass and other stuff.
And every
crow, in the same way, threw down at the same time his piece of wood, and so
kindled a fire and burnt the owls, king and all. And the king of the crows,
having destroyed his enemies with the help of Chirajívin, was highly delighted,
and returned with his tribe of crows to his own banyan-tree. Then Chirajívin
told the story of how he lived among his enemies, to king Meghavarṇa, the king
of the crows, and said to him; “Your enemy, king, had one good minister named
Raktáksha; it is because he was infatuated by confidence, and did not act on
that minister’s advice, that I was allowed to remain uninjured. Because the
villain did not act on his advice, thinking it was groundless, I was able to
gain the confidence of the impolitic fool, and to deceive him. It was by a
feigned semblance of submission that the snake entrapped and killed the frogs.”
Story
of the snake and the frogs.
A certain
old snake, being unable to catch frogs easily on the bank of a lake, which was
frequented by men, remained there motionless. And when he was there, the frogs
asked him, keeping at a safe distance; “Tell us, worthy sir, why do you no
longer eat frogs as of old?” When the snake was asked this question by the
frogs, he answered, “While I was pursuing a frog, I one day bit a Bráhman’s son
in the finger by mistake, and he died. And his father by a curse made me a
bearer of frogs. So how can I eat you now? On the contrary I will carry you on
my back.”
When the
king of the frogs heard that, he was desirous of being carried, and putting
aside fear, he came out of the water, and joyfully mounted on the back of the
snake. Then the snake, having gained his good-will by carrying him about with
his ministers, represented himself as exhausted, and said cunningly; “I cannot
go a step further without food, so give me something to eat. How can a servant
exist without subsistence?” When the frog-king, who was fond of being carried
about, heard this, he said to him; “Eat a few of my followers then.” So the
snake ate all the frogs in succession, as he pleased, and the king of the frogs
put up with it, being blinded with pride at being carried about by the snake.
“Thus a
fool is deceived by a wise man who worms himself into his confidence. And in
the same way I ingratiated myself with your enemies and brought about their
ruin. So a king must be skilled in policy and self-restrained; a fool is
plundered by his servants and slain by his foes at will. And this goddess of
prosperity, O king, is ever treacherous as gambling, fickle as a wave,
intoxicating as wine. But she remains as persistently constant to a king, who
is self-contained, well-advised, free from vice, and knows differences of
character, as if she were tied with a rope. So you must now remain attentive to
the words of the wise, and glad at the slaughter of your enemies, rule a realm
free from opponents.” When the minister Chirajívin said this to the crow-king
Meghavarṇa, the latter loaded him with honours, and ruled as he recommended.
When
Gomukha had said this, he went on to say to the son of the king of Vatsa; “So
you see, king, that even animals are able to rule prosperously by means of
discretion, but the indiscreet are always ruined and become the laughing-stock
of the public.”
Story
of the foolish servant.
For
instance a certain rich man had a foolish servant. He, while shampooing him, in
his extreme folly gave him a slap on his body, (for he fancied in his conceit
that he thoroughly understood the business while he really knew nothing about
it,) and so broke his skin. Then he was dismissed by that master and sank into
utter despair.
“The fact
is a man who, while ignorant, thinks himself wise, and rushes impetuously at
any business, is ruined; hear another story in proof of it.”
Story
of the two brothers who divided all that they had.
In Málava
there were two Bráhman brothers, and the wealth they inherited from their
father was left jointly between them. And while dividing that wealth, they
quarrelled about one having too little and the other having too much, and they
made a teacher learned in the Vedas arbitrator, and he said to them; “You must
divide every single thing into two halves, in order that you may not quarrel
about the inequality of the division.” When the two fools heard this, they
divided every single thing into two equal parts, house, beds, et cetera; in
fact all their wealth, even the cattle. They had only one female slave; her
also they cut in two. When the king heard of that, he punished them with the
confiscation of all their property.
“So fools,
following the advice of other fools, lose this world and the next. Accordingly
a wise man should not serve fools: he should serve wise men. Discontent also
does harm, for listen to this tale.”
The
story of the mendicants who became emaciated from discontent.
There were
some wandering mendicants, who became fat by being satisfied with what they got
by way of alms. Some friends saw this and began to remark to one another;
“Well! these mendicants are fat enough, though they do live on what they get by
begging.” Then one of them said,—“I will shew you a strange sight. I will make
these men thin, though they eat the same things as before.” When he had said
this, he proceeded to invite the mendicants for one day to his house, and gave
them to eat the best possible food, containing all the six flavours. And those
foolish men, remembering the taste of it, no longer felt any appetite for the
food they got as alms; so they became thin. So that man who had entertained
them, when he saw these mendicants near, pointed them out to his friends, and
said; “Formerly these men were sleek and fat, because they were satisfied with
the food which they got as alms, now they have become thin, owing to disgust,
being dissatisfied with their alms. Therefore a wise man, who desires
happiness, should establish his mind in contentment; for dissatisfaction
produces in both worlds intolerable and unceasing grief.” When he had given his
friends this lesson, they abandoned discontent, the source of crime; to whom is
not association with the good improving? “Now king, hear of the fool and the
gold.”
Story
of the fool who saw gold in the water.
A certain
young man went to a tank to drink water. There the fool saw in the water the
reflection of a golden-crested bird, that was sitting on a tree. This
reflection was of a golden hue, and, thinking it was real gold, he entered the
tank to get it, but he could not lay hold of it, as it kept appearing and
disappearing in the moving water. But as often as he ascended the bank, he
again saw it in the water, and again and again he entered the tank to lay hold
of it, and still he got nothing. Then his father saw him and questioned him,
and drove away the bird, and then, when he no longer saw the reflection in the
water, explained to him the whole thing, and took the foolish fellow home.
“Thus
foolish people, who do not reflect, are deceived by false suppositions, and
become the source of laughter to their enemies, and of sorrow to their friends.
Now hear another tale of some great fools.”
Story
of the servants who kept rain off the trunks.
The camel
of a certain merchant gave way under its load on a journey. He said to his
servants, “I will go and buy another camel to carry the half of this camel’s
load. And you must remain here, and take particular care that, if it clouds
over, the rain does not wet the leather of these trunks, which are full of
clothes.” With these words the merchant left the servants by the side of the
camel, and went off, and suddenly a cloud came up and began to discharge rain.
Then the fools said; “Our master told us to take care that the rain did not
touch the leather of the trunks;” and after they had made this sage reflection,
they dragged the clothes out of the trunks and wrapped them round the leather.
The consequence was, that the rain spoiled the clothes. Then the merchant
returned, and in a rage said to his servants; “You rascals! Talk of water! Why
the whole stock of clothes is spoiled by the rain.” And they answered him; “You
told us to keep the rain off the leather of the trunks. What fault have we
committed?” He answered; “I told you that, if the leather got wet, the clothes
would be spoiled: I told it you in order to save the clothes, not the leather.”
Then he placed the load on another camel, and when he returned home, imposed a
fine on his servants amounting to the whole of their wealth.
“Thus
fools, with undiscerning hearts, turn things upside down, and ruin their own
interests and those of other people, and give such absurd answers. Now hear in
a few words the story of the fool and the cakes.”
Story
of the fool and the cakes.
A certain
traveller bought eight cakes for a paṇa; and he ate six of them without being
satisfied, but his hunger was satisfied by eating the seventh. Then the
blockhead exclaimed; “I have been cheated; why did I not eat this cake, which
has allayed the pangs of hunger, first of all? Why did I waste those others,
why did I not store them up?” In these words he bewailed the fact that his
hunger was only gradually satisfied, and the people laughed at him for his
ignorance.
Story of the servant who looked after the door.
A certain
merchant said to his foolish servant; “Take care of the door of my shop, I am
going home for a moment. After the merchant had said this, he went away, and
the servant took the shop-door on his shoulder and went off to see an actor
perform. And as he was returning, his master met him and gave him a scolding.
And he answered, “I have taken care of this door as you told me.”
“So a fool,
who attends only to the words of an order and does not understand the meaning,
causes detriment. Now hear the wonderful story of the buffalo and the
simpletons.”
Story
of the simpletons who ate the buffalo.
Some
villagers took a buffalo belonging to a certain man, and killed it in an
enclosure outside the village, under a banyan-tree, and, dividing it, ate it
up. The proprietor of the buffalo went and complained to the king, and he had
the villagers, who had eaten the buffalo, brought before him. And the
proprietor of the buffalo said before the king, in their presence; “These foolish
men took my buffalo under a banyan-tree near the tank, and killed it and ate it
before my eyes.” Whereupon an old fool among the villagers said, “There is no
tank or banyan-tree in our village. He says what is not true: where did we kill
his buffalo or eat it?”
When the
proprietor of the buffalo heard this, he said; “What! is there not a
banyan-tree and a tank on the east side of the village? Moreover, you ate my
buffalo on the eighth day of the lunar month.” When the proprietor of the
buffalo said this, the old fool replied, “There is no east side or eighth day
in our village.” When the king heard this, he laughed, and said, to encourage
the fool; “You are a truthful person, you never say anything false, so tell me
the truth, did you eat that buffalo or did you not?” When the fool heard that,
he said, “I was born three years after my father died, and he taught me skill
in speaking. So I never say what is untrue, my sovereign; it is true that we
ate his buffalo, but all the rest that he alleges is false.” When the king
heard this, he and his courtiers could not restrain their laughter; so the king
restored the price of the buffalo to the plaintiff, and fined those villagers.
“So, fools,
in the conceit of their folly, while they deny what need not be denied, reveal
what it is their interest to suppress, in order to get themselves believed.”
Story
of the fool who behaved like a Brahmany drake.
A certain
foolish man had an angry wife, who said to him; “To-morrow I shall go to my
father’s house, I am invited to a feast. So if you do not bring me a garland of
blue lotuses from somewhere or other, you will cease to be my husband, and I
shall cease to be your wife.” Accordingly he went at night to the king’s tank
to fetch them. And when he entered it, the guards saw him, and cried out; “Who
are you?” He said, “I am a Brahmany drake,” but they took him prisoner; and in
the morning he was brought before the king, and when questioned, he uttered in
his presence the cry of that bird. Then the king himself summoned him and
questioned him persistently, and when he told his story, being a merciful
monarch, he let the wretched man go unpunished.
Story
of the physician who tried to cure a hunchback.
And a
certain Bráhman said to a foolish physician; “Drive in the hump on the back of
my son who is deformed.” When the physician heard that, he said; “Give me ten
paṇas, I will give you ten times as many, if I do not succeed in this.” Having
thus made a bet, and having taken the ten paṇas from the Bráhman, the physician
only tortured the hunchback with sweating and other remedies. But he was not
able to remove the hump; so he paid down the hundred paṇas; for who in this
world would be able to make straight a hunchbacked man?
“So the
boastful fashion of promising to accomplish impossibilities only makes a man
ridiculous. Therefore a discreet person should not walk in these ways of
fools.” When the wise prince Naraváhanadatta had heard, at night, these tales
of fools from his auspicious-mouthed minister, named Gomukha, he was exceedingly
pleased with him.
And though
he was pining for Śaktiyaśas, yet, owing to the pleasure he derived from the
stories that Gomukha told him, he was enabled to get to sleep, when he went to
bed, and slept surrounded by his ministers who had grown up with him.
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