The Hitopadesa (Penguin Classics) Read online

  (92) If you think you can win over

  Your foes, or an indifferent wife,

  Just because you are in clover—

  That’s the end of your own life.’

  Quickflight said, ‘I have listened to all that you have said. But I am determined to make friends with you. If not, I will starve myself to death. For,

  (93) Friendships with the base remain

  As pots made out of clay:

  Easily shattered any day,

  But hard to join again.

  With good men, on the other hand,

  They are like cups of gold:

  Hard to spoil or splinter, and

  Quick to mend or mould.

  ‘What is more,

  (94) Melting points compatible

  Make metals join together.

  Sundry causes natural

  Bring animals in tether.

  The union of foolish men

  Is due to greed and fear,

  But of the noble only when

  Perceptions they share.

  ‘What’s more,

  (95) As coconuts true friends appear

  (Rough outside and sweet within).

  The rest are like the jujube pear,

  Their charm is only on the skin.

  (96) Though their friendships be no more,

  Good people’s values still endure.

  Though blooms be cut from lotus stem,

  Its fibres still adhere to them.

  ‘Further,

  (97) Courage, devotion, courtesy,

  Constancy in joy and grief,

  Truth, sacrifice, integrity,

  Are of friends the virtues chief.

  ‘And, sir, where will I find one with such virtues, other than yourself?’

  After listening to the crow, Golden came out and said, ‘Sir, I am overwhelmed by the nectar of your words. It is said:

  (98) A bath with water cold and clear,

  And sandal balm to soothe the flesh,

  A garland of cool pearls to wear,

  Cannot one stressed with heat refresh

  As nicely as a good man’s speech,

  Full of loving words and wise,

  Spellbinding incantations each,

  Oft other good men gratifies.

  ‘Further,

  (99) He can’t keep secrets, importunes,

  He’s fickle, false, to anger given,

  Gambles, cold in misfortunes,

  A friend is blemished by these seven.

  ‘You have not even one of the blemishes mentioned in this saying. For,

  (100) While wit and veracity can

  Be judged through mutual conversation,

  The dynamic but steady man

  Is only known by observation.

  ‘Furthermore,

  (101) Friendship of the spirits pure

  Is always in a class apart.

  The words and actions different are

  Of those with villainy in the heart.

  (102) The wicked always different are

  In what they think, and do, and say;

  But thought and speech and action for

  The great-souled is a single way.’

  ‘As you say, sir,’ Golden concluded, ‘so be it.’ Making friends with the crow, he entertained him with a special repast and returned to his burrow. The crow too went home. From then onwards the two began to spend their time in exchanging gifts of food, enquiring about each other’s welfare, and having other intimate conversations.

  Once Quickflight said to Golden: ‘Comrade, it is getting difficult to find food in this place, so I propose to leave it and go somewhere else.’

  ‘Where can one go, friend?’ asked Golden. ‘It is said,

  (103) One step will the wise man take

  While holding back the other:

  Full inspection he should make

  Ere quitting a place for another.’

  ‘There is a place fully suitable,’ said the crow. ‘Which is that?’ asked Golden. The crow replied, ‘There is a lake called Karpura Gaura in the Danḍaka forest. An old and dear friend of mine lives there, a pious tortoise called Manthara, or Slow. For,

  (104) Men find it easy to be clever

  In counselling others, it is seen.

  Great souls on their own duty ever

  Bent are few and far between.

  ‘He will look after me with special things to eat.’

  ‘Then why should I stay here?’ cried Golden. ‘For,

  (105) Lands where you get no respect,

  Nor can livelihood expect,

  Or find knowledge, or have kin:

  They are not worth staying in.

  (106) Livelihood and charity,

  A sense of shame and courtesy,

  Of the law a healthy fear:

  Where these five are just not there,

  In such a land your residence

  Should not be made (it makes no sense).

  (107) Where these four lack, O comrade, never

  Should there one decide to live:

  A priest, a doctor, a good river,

  And someone who a loan will give.

  Therefore take me there too.’

  The crow then proceeded leisurely to the lake, chatting on a variety of subjects with his friend on the way. Slow, the tortoise, saw them from a distance and, duly welcoming Quickflight, formally greeted the mouse as a guest. For,

  (108) At home whoever visits you

  —Infant, youth, of aged station—

  Respect to him is always due:

  The guest, worldwide, gets veneration.

  The crow said, ‘Comrade Slow, this is Golden, a king of the mice. Give him special honours, for he is a pillar of virtue and an ocean of compassion. Even the king of the serpents, with his one thousand twin tongues, 4 may not be able to praise all his merits.’ He then narrated the story of Spotted Throat. Slow, on his part, honoured Golden with all respect and asked: ‘Good sir, be kind enough to say why you have come to this lonely forest.’ ‘I will,’ said Golden, ‘listen.’ And he narrated

  The Monks and the Mouse

  There is a monastery in the city of Ćampakā, in which there lived a monk called Ćūdākarṇa. He used to beg for food and, after eating, would keep the leftovers in his begging bowl which he hung on a peg before going to sleep. I used to jump up and eat that food every day. Once a dear friend of Ćūdākarṇa another monk called Vīṇākarṇa, happened to come there. While talking to him, Ćūdākarṇa, kept beating the ground with an old piece of bamboo to scare me away. ‘What is this, comrade?’ Vīṇākarṇa asked. ‘You appear disinterested in what I am saying, sir, and engrossed in something else.’ Ćūdākarṇa replied, ‘Friend, I am not disinterested. But look at this mouse which troubles me. It always jumps up and eats the food kept in my begging bowl.’

  Vīṇākarṇa stared at the peg. ‘How can a mouse with little strength jump so high?’ he said. ‘There must be some reason for this. As it is said,

  (109) When the wife is young and fair,

  Whereas the husband aged is,

  And she draws him by the hair

  In tight embrace with sudden kiss—

  There must a reason be for this.’

  ‘How could that be?’ asked Ćūdākarṇa. Vīṇākarṇa narrated a tale.

  The Old Man with a Young Wife

  “In the province of Gauda there is a city called Kauśambi. In it there lived an exceedingly wealthy merchant named Ćandana Dāsa. He was in the evening of life, but lust filled his thoughts and, with the arrogance of riches, he married a merchant’s daughter called Līlāvati. She was in the flush of youth, a veritable victory banner of the God of Love. The old husband gave her no satisfaction. For,

  (110) As sun and moon give no respite

  To those troubled by heat or cold,

  So women’s hearts do not delight

  In husbands decrepit and old.

  “Further,

  (111) What passion can a man inspire,
/>   With even hair gone grey and thin;

  Wives to others then aspire,

  While taking him as medicine.

  “But the old man loved her deeply. For,

  (112) For everyone, to live and earn

  Is a thing of great concern;

  But, for one old, a youthful wife

  Is dearer even than his life.

  (113) The old cannot indulge in pleasure

  Nor give it up. Their only measure

  Is the dog whose teeth have gone,

  Merely licking at a bone.

  “In time, Līlāvati overstepped the bounds of family honour with the pride of youth and fell in love with the son of a merchant. For,

  (114) Unrestrainéd liberty;

  At father’s home too long a stay;

  Talks with men in assembly

  Or out upon a festive day;

  Living abroad; and company

  Of ladies of low reputation;

  Of proper conduct violation;

  A husband prone to jealousy,

  Or very old, or far away:

  All are for women ruin’s way.

  “Further,

  (115) To drink and keep bad company,

  To roam about excessively,

  In others’ homes to sleep, feel free

  From husbands staying separately:

  Six blemishes of women be.

  (116) When at a handsome man they stare,

  A son or brother, though it were,

  Women’s private parts go wet,

  Like an unbaked earthen pot

  Whose bottom is all moist got

  If water into it you let.

  “What’s more,

  (117) There is no ready time or place,

  Nor man to make the loving plea—

  That alone ensures, Your Grace,

  In womenfolk their chastity.

  (118) Women, as the gods well know,

  Have always very fickle been.

  The men who guard them, even so

  Are rather happy, it is seen.

  (119) To womenfolk, no man is dear

  Nor displeasing, it is true:

  Like cattle grazing forests bare,

  They ever seek new grass to chew.

  “Furthermore,

  (120) Woman is a ghee-filled jar,

  And man is as a burning brand.

  Fuel and fire never are

  Together kept, please understand.

  (121) Not modesty, or training done,

  Not diffidence or plain distaste—

  The lack of suitors is alone

  The cause of women staying chaste.

  (122) A child, she is her father’s ward;

  The husband’s when she’s in her prime;

  The sons do her in old age guard;

  She can’t be free at any time.

  “Once, as Līlāvati sat at ease on a bed dappled with the glint of serried gemstones, exchanging intimacies with the merchant’s son, her husband arrived unexpectedly. Seeing him she sprang up at once and, drawing him by the hair, kissed and enveloped him in a long embrace. Her lover meanwhile ran away. It is said:

  (123) The science, in which one expects

  Celestial gurus most accomplished,

  Is by nature well established

  In all the feminine intellects.

  “A professional bawd happened to be nearby. She observed the embrace, wondered at its suddenness, and got to know the reason. She then blackmailed Līlāvati in secret.”

  ‘That is why I spoke about the sudden behaviour of the young woman. Similarly, there is bound to be some reason for the energy of the mouse you have here,’ said Vīṇākarṇa. Ćūdākarṇa thought for a moment, and said, ‘The reason must be that there is a hoard of money here. For,

  (124) In this life, always, everywhere,

  It is the rich who power bear;

  Wealth is at the root, its certain,

  Even of the king’s dominion.’

  Then he took a spade and, digging up my burrow, seized the wealth which I had accumulated over a long time. After that I lost my energy and enthusiasm. I was unable even to forage for my own food. Cūdākarṇa saw me cringing and crawling slowly, and said,

  (125) ‘Wealth gives in life a mighty stature,

  With it one is both strong and wise;

  Behold this mouse, a wretched creature,

  Now reduced to proper size.’

  ‘What’s more,

  (126) As rivulets dry in summers hot,

  So all the actions come to naught

  Of persons who are indigent,

  And also unintelligent.

  ‘Furthermore,

  (127) With money one has many a friend,

  And kinsmen too, one also can

  On being hailed a sage depend:

  One is then counted as a man.

  ‘Further,

  (128) At home an emptiness descends

  On one without a son or friends;

  For fools all quarters empty ring;

  But penury empties everything.

  ‘Furthermore,

  (129) Unimpaired, and still the same

  Are his senses, mind and name.

  Yet, lacking the incandescence

  Which derives from affluence,

  In a moment man will change

  Into someone else: if’s strange.’

  Hearing all this, I said to myself: ‘It is not fitting for me to stay here now. Nor will it be appropriate to tell others what has happened. For,

  (130) The wise accord no publicity,

  To their losses monetary,

  To misdeeds in their family,

  To being duped, to humiliations,

  And to mental tribulations.

  ‘Besides,

  (131) One’s age, and status monetary,

  The secrets of the family,

  Favourite charms, and medications,

  Engaging in sex relations,

  Presents made or penance done,

  And humiliations undergone:

  All nine of these, one must beware,

  And keep concealed with every care.

  ‘And it has been said,

  (132) When luck turns bad on every side,

  And effort will no more provide

  Results, despite one’s fortitude:

  In such a difficult pass, where can

  The high-minded but poor man

  Find comfort, save in solitude?

  ‘Further,

  (133) The high-minded will rather die

  Than to any meanness turn;

  As fire can extinguished lie,

  But never with a cold flame burn.

  ‘What’s more,

  (134) As clusters of wild flowers do,

  The high-minded have but courses two:

  To be borne on every brow,

  Or wither on some forest bough.

  ‘As to continuing to live here by begging, it will be extremely deplorable. For,

  (135) Shorn of wealth, it is more meet

  To feed, with one’s own life, the fire

  Funerary, than entreat

  Some ill-bred wretch (and risk his ire).

  (136) Poverty engenders shame,

  And shame reduces confidence.

  The demoialized are easy game

  For contempt, which causes diffidence.

  There follows deep depression,

  Then loss of intelligence,

  Which leads to sure destruction:

  The root is indigence.

  ‘What’s more,

  (137) Better is silence

  Than a falsehood said.

  Better is impotence

  Than another’s wife in bed.

  Better a beggar

  Than to prosper on thieving.

  To die is far better

  Than in villains believing.

  (138) Better keep an empty pen

  Than a rogue bull inside.

  Better wed a courtesan

  T
han a spoilt patrician bride.

  Better live in wilderness

  Than in a wayward ruler’s land.

  Better give up life, no less

  Than to the base stretch out the hand.

  ‘Besides,

  (139) As self-respect by servitude,

  And darkness by the moon’s bright rays,

  By course of age, all pulchritude,

  By reading scriptures, sinful ways:

  So, even though they be a host,

  By begging are all virtues lost.

  ‘Shall I then support myself with crumbs from another’s table?’ I thought to myself. ‘Alas, that too is a second death.

  (140) Sex purchased with money spending,

  For food on others’ grace depending,

  Scholarship to trivials tied:

  By all three are men mortified.

  (141) One sick, and long in exile grim,

  His bed and board on others’ whim—

  He lives a living death, and knows

  In death alone he’ll find repose.

  ‘But I was greedy. Despite having considered all this, I decided to accumulate a store of wealth once again. It is said:

  (142) Greed affects one mentally.

  Cravings strong from it appear,

  And they lead man to misery

  Hereafter as well as here.

  ‘Then Vīṇākarṇa hit me with the old piece of bamboo as I was crawling away slowly, and I thought: anyone who is greedy and discontented, for certain becomes his own enemy. For,

  (143) Let the heart contented beat,

  And every riches will be thine.

  To one with shoes upon his feet,

  All earth is spread with leather fine.

  ‘Furthermore,

  (144) Always running here and there

  Seeking money, can they find

  That happiness which is the share

  Of those who drink the elixir

  Of contentment, peace of mind?

  ‘What’s more,

  (145) When one turns back from desires

  And to indifference aspires,