The Hitopadesa (Penguin Classics) Page 4

  Race, character, quality.

  Now say, how else can fruitful be

  The purpose of my sovereignty?

  ‘Further,

  (46) They have not my side forsaken,

  Even with no recompense.

  You must save them, there’s no question,

  Even at my life’s expense.

  ‘And,

  (47) Friend, this body can’t endure,

  Its flesh and bone and filth: no more.

  For it give up all consideration,

  And only save my reputation.

  ‘And furthermore,

  (48) This fleeting framework of pollution—

  In its stead if one can gain

  A pure and lasting reputation,

  Friend, what does not one obtain?

  ‘For,

  (49) Different, by far, is merit

  From the frame corporeal:

  One destructs within a minute,

  The other for all time is real.’

  Golden’s hair bristled with delight as he listened to these words, ‘Bravo! friend, bravo!’ he cried, ‘with such loving care for your subjects you are indeed fit to be a king, even of the three worlds.’ He then bit off their bonds and, greeting all of them with honours, added: ‘Comrade Spotted Throat, you should not blame yourself at all for any mistake in getting caught in this net. For,

  (50) The bird which can the carcass spot

  From many miles above in air,

  When its time has come, will not

  See on ground the open snare.

  ‘Furthermore,

  (51) When the sun eclipsed I see,

  And elephants wild in fettered state,

  And able men in poverty,

  I then realize how strong is fate.

  ‘Further,

  (52) Birds who roam the sky alone,

  And denizens of the deepest sea,

  Both to getting caught are prone:

  How helpful can location be?

  What is a prudent policy?

  Time stretches out its deadly hand

  To seize one from the furthest land.’

  After addressing Spotted Throat in this way, Golden embraced him and did the duties of a host before seeing him and his retinue off on their way home. He too then returned to his burrow.

  (53) Many friends of every mould,

  To make, it is necessary.

  It was a friendly mouse, behold,

  Who gnawed the netted pigeons free.

  Now Quickflight the crow was a witness to all that happened. ‘O Golden,’ he cried out with amazement, ‘you are indeed praiseworthy. I too would like to be friends with you. Please favour me with your friendship.’

  ‘Who are you?’ Golden asked from inside the burrow. ‘I am Quickflight the crow,’ replied the other. Golden smiled and said, ‘What friendship with you? For

  (54) In this world, the wise must see

  That those who come together

  Should always be compatible.

  How then can there be amity

  With you, sir, the consumer

  When I am the comestible?

  ‘Furthermore,

  (55) Love between the prey and predator

  Leads only to catastrophe.

  Deer, by Jackal trapped, was later

  Helped by Crow to liberty.’

  ‘How did that happen?’ the crow asked. Golden narrated

  The Deer, the Crow and the Jackal

  There is a forest called Ćampakavatī in the land of Magadha. In it there dwelt a deer and a crow who had been great friends for a long time. As the deer roamed about, sleek and well-fed, he was once noticed by a jackal who said to himself, ‘Ah, how can I get to eat the fine flesh of this creature? Well, let me first win his confidence.’

  After such cogitation, the jackal approached the deer and said: ‘How are you, my friend?’ ‘Who are you?’ the deer asked, and he responded, ‘I am a jackal called Kṣudra-buddhi, that is Dimwit. I have no family and live like a ghost in this forest. Now that I have found you as a friend, I feel that I have come back once more into the world of the living with a brother. I will serve you in every way.’ ‘Very well,’ the deer replied.

  After the radiant and divine sun had set, they both proceeded to where the deer lived. His old friend Subuddhi or Goodwit the crow, also lived there on the branch of a champak tree. Seeing them, the crow asked: ‘Comrade Ćitrānga, that is Spotted One, who is this with you?’ ‘This is a jackal,’ said the deer, ‘he has come, wishing to be our friend.’

  ‘Comrade,’ observed the crow, ‘it is not appropriate to strike up a friendship with someone who has suddenly appeared out of nowhere. It is said:

  (56) The cat’s misdemeanour

  Caused the vulture’s demise.

  As such, say the wise,

  Never give shelter

  To one whose character

  Or family ties

  You cannot surmise.’

  ‘How did that happen?’ asked the other two animals. The crow narrated

  The Cat and the Vulture

  ‘On the hill called Gṛddhakuta by the side of the river Gangā there is a giant fig tree. In its hollow there lived a vulture called Jaradgava or Eyeless. Ill luck had deprived him of eyes and claws. Taking, pity on him, the other birds who lived on the same tree would give him some of their own food for his subsistence. In turn he used to guard their young.

  Once a cat named Dīrghakaṛa or Longears came there with the intention of eating the young birds. The latter were terrified at seeing him draw near, and set up a great clamour, hearing which Eyeless called out, “Who comes here?” Longears saw the vulture and said fearfully to himself, “I am done for. But

  (57) Danger one should always dread

  As long as it is far away.

  But once it is upon your head,

  Then face it in the proper way.

  “Now it is impossible to run away from this vulture. So, be as it may, I will approach him and try to win his confidence.” Having come to this conclusion, he went forward and said, “Sir, I salute you.”

  “Who are you?” asked the vulture.

  “I am a cat.”

  “Go away. Otherwise I will kill you.”

  “Listen first to what I have to say,” the cat responded, “then if I am to be killed, go ahead. For,

  (58) Is mere race a sufficient reason

  For anyone to praise or murder;

  Not conduct, the criterion

  In deciding death or honour?”

  “Tell me, then,” asked the vulture, “why have you come here?” The cat said, “I am here on the bank of the Gangā, observing the lunar fast, bathing daily and practicing celibacy. I have always been told by all trustworthy birds that Your Honour is devoted to virtue and knowledge. I therefore came to learn about virtue from someone who is hoary with knowledge. But you seem so virtuous that you are set to kill me, your guest. The householder’s pious duty is thus described:

  (59) From one who comes to cut it down,

  Its shade withdraweth not the tree.

  So too should hospitality

  to even visiting foes be shown.

  “In the absence of other means, a guest should at least be welcomed with loving words. For,

  (60) A place to sit, a mat of straw,

  Some water and a word of cheer—

  For every guest, at least these four

  In all good homes are ever there.

  “Furthermore,

  (61) For even those devoid of merit

  The good always compassion bear.

  The moon does not its lustre limit

  In lighting up the outcaste’s lair.

  “Further,

  (62) As priests to fire show veneration,

  And other castes do priests revere,

  As wives for husbands have devotion,

  So guests are honoured everywhere.

  (63) If a guest is turned aside

  From your home, his hopes belied
,

  Your merits stored he takes away—

  His own sins with you will stay.

  “Further,

  (64) If one base-born should visit you,

  Even with your high-caste pride

  Give him all the honours due,

  For in the guest all gods reside.”

  “Cats like meat,” said the vulture, “and little nestlings live here. That is why I said what I did.” The cat remonstrated with horror, touching the ground and then his ears. “I have undertaken this difficult lunar fast,” he said, “after studying the scriptures and giving up all attachments. The scriptures may differ among themselves, but they are unanimous that non-violence is the supreme virtue. For,

  (65) All forms of violence who abjure,

  Every temptation endure,

  To none deny a refuge sure—

  For them is open heaven’s door.

  (66) One friend alone will follow you

  When you pass to death’s dominion:

  It is the merit of your virtue—

  All else will perish with your person.

  “Further,

  (67) The difference is clear to see

  When one’s flesh is another’s feast:

  Here a pleasure momentary,

  There loss of life at very least.

  “Besides,

  (68) The thought of certain death, in man

  Engenders such agony—

  By merely guessing no one can

  Tell of its intensity.

  “And listen again,

  (69) Sins tremendous why commit

  For reasons of this wretched belly?

  Fill it to the very limit

  With herbs in forests growing freely.”

  Having thus assured the vulture, the cat began to live in the same hollow in the tree. As time passed, he started to catch the nestlings and bring them to the hollow where he would devour them everyday. The birds whose young had been thus consumed were distraught with grief. With loud laments they searched for their children here and there. Observing this, the cat slunk out of the hollow and ran away. Meanwhile the birds found the remains of the nestlings in that place. Concluding that Eyeless had eaten their young, they killed the vulture.

  ‘That is why,’ continued the crow, ‘I say that shelter should never be given to one whose family and character are unknown.’ On hearing this the jackal retorted angrily: ‘Sir, your family and character too were unknown when the deer first met you. How is it then that his affection for you increased day after day?

  (70) Where there are no men of learning,

  Even small minds are esteemed;

  Like castor shrubs, without discerning,

  In desert wastes as trees are deemed.

  ‘Further,

  (71) “This is mine, and this is not”—

  Thus do the small-minded see.

  The large-hearted have always thought

  The world itself a family.

  ‘You too are my friend, just like this deer.’

  ‘What is the point of this argument?’ said the deer. ‘Let us relax and continue our conversation at ease. For,

  (72) No one is by nature

  Another’s friend or foe.

  ‘Tis conduct and behaviour

  Which always makes them so.’

  ‘So be it,’ agreed the crow, and each went his way in the morning.

  One day the jackal told the deer privately, ‘Comrade, there is a field full of corn in another part of the forest. I will take you there and show it to you.’ This being done, the deer began to go to that field every day to feed on the corn. Eventually he was spotted by the farmer who set a trap for him.

  On his next visit the deer was caught in the trap. ‘Who but a friend,’ he thought, ‘can rescue me from this trapper’s snare which feels like the noose of Death?’ Meanwhile the jackal also came there and said to himself, ‘The stratagem for getting what I want has finally succeeded. Once this deer is chopped up, I am bound to get some of the bones with a bit of the flesh and blood on them. That will give me plenty to eat.’

  The deer was overjoyed to see the jackal. ‘Comrade,’ he exclaimed, ‘cut me out of these bonds! Release me quickly! For,

  (73) In distress will you kinsmen know,

  In debt the true, in war the brave;

  The wife when money’s running low,

  And friends in emergencies grave.

  ‘Furthermore,

  (74) Know him to be the comrade true,

  In glee or gloom who stands by you,

  In times of famine, anarchy,

  In lawcourt and the cemetery.’

  ‘He is good and caught,’ thought the jackal, looking repeatedly at the trap. ‘Comrade,’ he said, ‘this snare is made of animal sinew. How can I touch it with my teeth today, when it is a sunday? Do not misunderstand me, friend, but tomorrow morning I will do whatever you say.’ Then he hid himself nearby.

  When the deer did not return home in the evening, the crow went to search for him and found him trapped. ‘What is this, comrade?’ he asked. This is the result of not listening to a friend’s advice,’ replied the deer. It is said,

  (75) The man who will not lend his ear

  To what well-wishing comrades say,

  To misfortune is drawing near,

  Gladdening enemies on the way.’

  ‘Where is that cheat?’ asked the crow. ‘He is here,’ replied the deer, ‘he is after my flesh.’ The crow said, ‘I had told you so.

  (76) Saying, “it is no offence”,

  Cannot ground sufficient be

  To trust the wicked. It makes sense

  When virtue fears malignity.

  (77) Sure signals that your end is near:

  Snuffed-out lamps no odour bear

  For you; nor can you sight

  The morning star’s receding light;

  And words of friends you do not hear.

  (78) To you he speaks the loving word,

  But stabs you when your back is turned:

  Such a friend one must give up—

  He’s cream atop a poisoned cup.’

  The crow sighed deeply. ‘You fraud!’ he exclaimed, ‘what dastardly deed have you done? For,

  (79) To sweetly entreat them,

  And win them with your lying arts—

  Is it good to cheat them,

  Who come with hope and trusting hearts?

  (80) O Lady Earth, how can you bear

  Upon your bosom those who dare

  To treat with sinful treachery

  Good, trusting, men of purity?

  (81) For villains, friendly inclination

  Should be shunned: they are like brands

  Which, heated, lead to conflagration,

  And cold, will blacken still your hands.

  ‘For this is the way of the wicked:

  (82) The villain is like the mosquito—

  To your feet will he first go,

  Then, fearless, on the back will bite

  While singing gently all the night

  Beside your ear. Once does he spy

  A chance, he comes in suddenly.

  (83) Though the knave speak prettily,

  To him your trust do not impart,

  On his tongue may honey be,

  But poison lies within his heart.’

  At dawn the farmer came to the field, armed with a staff. Seeing him, the crow said: ‘Comrade deer, fill out your belly with air, stiffen your legs and lie as if you are dead. When I call out, you must get up and flee as fast as you can.’ The deer lay down as the crow advised.

  The farmer beamed with joy when he saw the deer. ‘Aha! it has died on its own,’ he said, as he released the animal from the snare and started to gather up the ropes. Meanwhile the deer heard the crow’s call and swiftly got up and ran away. The farmer hurled his staff after him and instead hit and killed the jackal. It is said:

  (84) Here itself the consequence

  Of deeds both really good or bas
e,

  The doer will experience

  In three years, months, or even days.

  ‘This is why,’ concluded Golden, ‘I said that love between the prey and the predator can end only in disaster.’

  The crow then said:

  (85) ‘For me to eat you, sir most fair,

  Will not an adequate diet give.

  But, like the pigeon, with you there

  I too in safety hope to live.

  ‘Further,

  (86) Even birds and beasts exhibit

  Mutual trust, if they have merit.

  Never does good people’s nature

  Regress from its noble stature.

  ‘Besides,

  (87) His mind is never agitated

  Though one may rouse a good man’s ire.

  Hardly will the sea be heated

  By straw torches sputtering fire.’

  ‘You are capricious,’ said Golden. ‘One should never make friends with capricious people. It is said,

  (88) Bolder do some creatures grow

  The more trust on them you bestow.

  This is mentioned of the crow,

  The cat, the ram, the buffalo,

  And of bad men, specially so.

  Trust here is inappropriate, know.

  ‘What is more, you, sir, belong to the category of our natural enemies. It is said,

  (89) With enemies there can’t be peace,

  No matter how well-made the pact.

  Heat water as much as you please,

  It puts out fire still, in fact.

  (90) The wicked always should be shunned,

  Even if with skills adorned.

  Is the serpent’s known menace

  By jewelled hoods3 made any less?

  (91) What can not, will never be,

  Nor otherwise, do understand.

  An ox-cart will not cross the sea,

  Nor ships move ever on the land.