The Hitopadesa (Penguin Classics) Read online

  Some of the verses selected by Nārāyaṇa occur in more than one work; some are still current in the form of proverbs and popular sayings. The famous verse 1.14, which is repeated as 4.134, is found in the Garuḍa Purāṇa (1.111), the southern (3.39) and the Nepali (3.32) Panćatantra, the Ćāṇakya Nīti Darpaṇa (12.14), as well as the Vetāla Panćavimśatikā. Verse 1.71, which contains the often cited maxim ‘Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam,’ occurs in the Panćatantra (5.38), the Ćāṇakya Nītiśāstra (1.69) and, with a slight variation, in the Vikramaćaritam (3.1).13 Other well-known verses include 1.16, which is found, barring one word, in the Bhagavad Gita (17.20), and the now notorious 1.122, which is taken from the Manu Smṛti (9.3). The fine stanza 4.92 is from the Udyoga Parvan (40.21) of the Mahabharata,14 and the satirical 4.105 from Bhartṛhari’s Nītisataka (1.3).

  Most Hitopadeśa verses are of the type known as muktaka or subhāṣita. This poetic form has been compared to the Persian rubai or the Japanese tanka.15 A single stanza, the meaning or mood of which is complete in itself, it was composed in isolation or as part of a longer work. It dealt with a large variety of themes and, at its best, combined brevity with a felicitous condensation of thought. It was also often designed for easy memorization and quotation in an age when books were still few and handwritten. This mnemonic function led to a large number of such verses being composed essentially to convey information and advice on all kinds of subjects besides nīti, from medicine and mathematics to erotic techniques and military tactics.

  The modern Sanskrit anthologist K.A.S. Iyer described16 the subhāṣita as ‘a pithy saying, embodying worldly wisdom, relating to one or more aspects of life, and often of a didactic character’. The subhāṣita on nīti may sometimes appear cynical but, in the words17 of the late Harvard Sanskritist D.H.H. Ingalls, ‘its purpose is neither to disparage the world, nor to flatter it, but to see it as it is. Accordingly, nīti verses dispense with elaborate ornaments; they are clipped, sententious, epigrammatic; and they include a wide range within their field of attention, for the real world contains good as well as bad’. These descriptions could well apply to the verses selected by Nārāyaṇa.

  Nārāyaṇa as an Anthologist

  The Hitopadeśa is no pale imitation or mere aggregation of its source materials. What gives it a refreshing identity of its own is the skilful way in which Nārāyaṇa selected and arranged his extracts from a wide range of other works, supplementing them occasionally with his own compositions and modifications to produce something distinctive. In the final stanza of the second book, he refers to his book as a garden or grove of pleasing stories. His art was essentially that of the compiler and the anthologist, assembling and presenting diverse tales and maxims in a manner which gave an additional cohesion and impact to the whole. His grouping of verses, in particular, is harmonious for the most part, and designed to emphasize the moral of each tale.

  Nārāyaṇa also adds a sense of liveliness to many verses by having them recited by animal characters. The birds and the beasts of his tales comment on human foibles and discuss life’s problems with solemn quotations from authoritative texts. This lends a tongue-in-cheek charm to some of the stories, such as that of the aged tiger (I.i) sanctimoniously citing the scriptures to lure a hesitant traveller close enough to be devoured; or the dog and the donkey (II.ii) discussing the responsibilities they bear to their master, the washerman, while he is in bed with his wife. By the time we arrive at the final frame story which encompasses the last two books, the animals are almost human. The war between the land birds and the water birds, with their vain and impetuous kings, wise and cautious ministers and time-serving courtiers, provides an opportunity for the animal characters to deliver stirring verse homilies on individual psychology and the rules of governance.

  Text and Translation

  Unlike the Panćatantra, which exists in a number of recensions with notable differences, there is only one main version of the Hitopadeśa, though it may not be the ur-text. It has been critically edited several times, including by Max Müller in 1865. The longest text, containing 749 stanzas, is the 1864 edition of J. Johnson, while the shortest, which contains 655 stanzas and incorporates for the first time the Nepal manuscript already mentioned, is that of P. Peterson, published in 1887. A scholarly comparison of all the main editions concludes that ‘the textual differences between the various editions of the Hitopadeśa are of little importance’.18

  The text used for the present translation is M.R. Kale’s edition, first published in 1896.19 With 733 stanzas, it stands between the shortest and the longest texts, and is also the most recent of the main critical editions. One stanza (1.116) which is partly suppressed in Kale’s text, doubtless on grounds of obscenity, has been taken for this translation from Peterson. Kale’s numbering of the stories and the stanzas has been retained. They are referred to with roman and Arabic numerals respectively, the first digit indicating the book. In addition, each story has been given a subtitle for ready reading.

  The Hitopadeśa has been translated into English several times. Apart from Wilkins’ pioneering version, another rendering by Sir Edwin Arnold appeared in 1861 with the title The Book of Good Counsels. The same title was used by B. Hale-Wortham in his 1906 translation. Other translations include some literal ones for students wishing to follow the original text, as well as edited versions for children.

  The present translation attempts to render the Sanskrit text faithfully in a contemporary idiom which may also convey something of the particular flavour of the original. The last consideration would also explain the occasional use of archaisms, specially in translating the prose parts. The translation of the verses involved a further consideration. In most, any poetic or ornamental literary content is low or even absent. The emphasis is didactic, and the form is gnomic and often mnemonic. It was felt that these characteristics would best be reflected through a rendition in simple rhyming verse of the doggerel type. A prose translation could have given more scope for precision, but less for conveying the spirit of the original. The varying quality of the verse renderings corresponds to the variations in the originals. Some of them have a fine flourish while others are bald statements for example 4.140 and 4.141, the two concluding stanzas of the work; in other cases the moods differ, as with 3.69 to 3.76 on the subject of war, and 4.68 to 4.77 on the transitoriness of life. In a few instances, the verse translations include additional explanatory lines, which have been put in parentheses.

  The Sanskrit mode for addressing a king, deva, which literally means god, has been rendered mostly as ‘sire’. The honorific pronoun bhavat, has been translated variously as ‘sir’, ‘Your Honour’, or ‘Your Majesty’, depending on who is addressing whom. The word nīti has been rendered in one of its several meanings in accordance with the context. Dharma, another word with multiple connotations, has usually been translated as ‘virtue’ or ‘righteousness’; occasionally it has been left in the original, in which form it has already entered the English language. Proper nouns have been retained in the original. In the case of animals, an English near-equivalent or derivative has also been added. A few names have been split into two words, for example ‘Viṣṇu Śarma’. Diacritics have been discarded in the transliteration of some names still in common usage.

  Like any good anthology, the Hitopadeśa can be savoured best by dipping into it from time to time, as compared to reading it from end to end. Opened at any page, it can reveal a fable or a stanza which may strike a responsive chord, provoke dissent or make a point to think about. At the same time its stories have a pattern which rewards sequential reading. The present translation also endeavours to retain these qualities which have contributed to the original text’s popularity over the centuries.

  I still possess a dog-eared copy of ‘Mitralābha’, the first book of the Hitopadeśa, which I read as a student many years ago. In preparing the present translation I have profitably consulted Kale’s Sanskrit commentary and the notes appended to his edition of the text.
I am grateful to David Davidar, Chief Executive Officer and Publisher of Penguin Books (India), for asking me to undertake this translation, and giving me extended time for completing it. I would like to thank Smriti Vohra for editing the typescript. Parts of my translation were earlier read by Madhav Dar, to whom I am indebted for various comments. Thanks are also due to J. Padma Rao of the Indian Embassy in Washington DC, and V.K. Jain, Director, Ministry of External Affairs Library, New Delhi, for helping with the reference material; and to my children Sharada and Vikram Haksar for obtaining information from the US Library of Congress. I am obliged to Dr Bibekananda Banerjee of the Asiatic Society, Calcutta for details of the Newari manuscript shown on the cover of this book. Most of all I wish to thank my wife Priti for her patient, critical and always helpful scrutiny of the drafts, and for her unfailing encouragement and support at every stage of their preparation.

  A. N. D. H.

  December 1997

  New Delhi

  Prastāvikā

  Prologue

  (1) May success tend good people’s labour

  By grace of him, on whose brow gleams

  The moon’s delightful crescent favour,

  Bright as foam on Gangā’s streams.

  (2) Study of these counsels benefic,

  Gives to speech felicity,

  Skill in words, diverse and specific,

  And knowledge of right policy.

  (3) The wise will strive for wealth and learning,

  As if to time and age immune;

  But not delay good works, discerning

  That death may strike one very soon.

  (4) Of all things, learning, seers declare

  It best by far, beyond compare:

  Always prized, it can’t decay,

  Nor be seized or forced away.

  (5) Learning even gives the lowly

  Access to high company,

  And thence to fortune: flowing slowly,

  Streamlets too may join the sea.

  (6) Learning teaches manners gentle,

  And they bring gainful patronage;

  The latter leads to wealth, essential

  For bliss and virtue in this age.

  (7) Learnings twain, of sword and science—

  From both can glory be expected;

  But one, with age, invites alliance

  With ridicule; the other always is respected.

  (8) May minds still young be fired here

  By knowledge set in guise of fable,

  As fresh clay pots are moulded, ere

  Their baking into vessels stable.

  (9) Gaining Friends and Splitting Partners,

  Making War to Peace attain:

  Drawing on the Panćatantra

  And other works, we here explain.

  On the banks of the river Bhāgīrathī there lies a city called Pāṭaliputra. In it there reigned a king named Sudarśana, who was possessed of all the royal virtues. Once this monarch heard someone recite two verses:

  (10) ‘It explains even things supernal,

  It sees through every doubt with speed.

  Science is the eye eternal—

  Who knows it not is blind indeed.

  (11) Youth, great wealth, authority,

  And lack of discrimination:

  Each one can cause calamity—

  More so, their aggregation.’

  The king was already upset as his sons had learnt nothing, become wayward, and never followed the scriptures. Hearing these verses, he began to worry:

  (12) ‘What is the point of having a son

  With neither wit nor piety?

  Like the eyes of a sightless one—

  For nothing good but agony.

  (13) Better than a foolish son,

  Is one deceased or never born.

  The pain he gives at least is brief;

  The former causes lasting grief.

  ‘Moreover,

  (14) With constant rounds to life decreed,

  Both birth and death are no surprises,

  But truly born is he indeed,

  By whose birth his family rises.

  (15) They are not marked, not even once,

  When one counts merit in this life:

  The mother of such worthless sons

  Had better been a barren wife.

  (16) In penance, valour, charity,

  Whose repute is not evident,

  In learning nor in earning, he

  Is but his mother’s excrement.

  ‘Furthermore,

  (17) Better than a foolish brood

  Is a single child with merit.

  Darkness doth one moon preclude:

  A thousand stars can’t do it.

  (18) Penance hard in holy places

  Is needed if you want but one

  Child with wit and all the graces,

  A wealthy and obedient son.

  (19) Steady income, perfect health,

  A loving and sweet-tempered wife,

  Sons obedient, learning’s wealth:

  O King, these make a happy life.

  (20) Will many sons a blessing be

  To add up in the numbers’ game?

  Just one who helps the family,

  Is better for the father’s name.

  (21) The wanton mother is an enemy,

  The debtor father is a foe.

  An enemy is the wife too pretty;

  The unread son is no less so.

  (22) Maidens are no better than

  Poison for the aged man;

  And the public assembly

  For the man in penury;

  As eating is for any person

  Who is suffering indigestion;

  And learning for the person who

  Puts it not to practice true.

  (23) Lauded is the person dextrous

  No matter what his pedigree.

  Though of purest cane, a stringless

  Bow will always useless be.

  (24) Alas, my sons, you ignored learning;

  Your nights were spent in luxury.

  As oxen muddy waters churning

  Among the cultured you shall be.

  ‘But how can I get my sons educated now? For,

  (25) With beasts we share a similar nature

  In fear and hunger, sex and rest.

  Virtue is man’s special feature:

  Without it, he’s a beast at best.

  (26) Virtue, wealth, salvation, pleasure:

  The life where these aims absent be—

  A he-goat’s udder gives the measure

  Of its sheer futility.

  ‘But it is said,

  (27) Actions, wealth, and life’s duration,

  Learning, and the way one dies:

  Fate makes of these determination

  While in one’s mother’s womb one lies.

  ‘And, further,

  (28) Gods too bow to destiny,

  For fate no exceptions makes.

  Śiva goes naked, as we see,

  And Viṣṇu sleeps on beds of snakes.

  ‘What is more,

  (29) “What will not, will never be,

  What will, must come to pass for sure.”

  For every care this remedy,

  Why not drink and fret no more?

  ‘But these are the idle words of those who have no capacity to do anything.

  (30) Though fortune may be in your favour,

  Effort you should not disdain.

  Oil from seeds of sesamum never

  Without pressing will you gain.

  ‘And,

  (31) Cowards say that “destiny gives”,

  But fortune comes to him who strives.

  Shun fate, and do the manly deed—

  No harm if efforts don’t succeed.

  (32) As one wheel moves the chariot never,

  So luck won’t work without endeavour.

  ‘And, further,

  (33) What men call fate is only fruit

  Of actions in thei
r previous birth.

  So, from your habits sloth uproot,

  And strive with all that you are worth.

  (34) As from clay the potter can

  Make whatever he wills—

  So, in life, may every man

  Reap as he sows and tills.

  (35) A gem, by chance, may lie before you,

  And be gleaming in the rubble.

  But fate won’t pick it up for you—

  It expects you to take that trouble.

  (36) Success always needs endeavour,

  By wish alone it won’t come near.

  The jaws of sleeping lions never

  Are visited by the passing deer.

  (37) Lessons well with parents done

  To excellence the offspring take;

  Discharge from mother’s womb alone

  Will not the child a scholar make.

  (38) That mother was his enemy fated,

  That father an adversary,

  By whom the child, left uneducated,

  A goose midst swans will always be.

  (39) The scions of some noble line,

  With youth endowed, and beauty’s powers,

  But lacking learning, cannot shine:

  They are no more than scentless flowers.

  (40) The fool may even look distinguished

  If dressed well, in Council Hall;

  And this impression’s not extinguished

  As long he does not speak at all.’

  Thinking thus, the king summoned an assembly of learned people. ‘Listen, O savants’, he said, ‘is there at present any scholar among you who can teach policy and give a fresh lease of life to my sons, who have no learning, and are always going astray? For,