Panchatantra

by Vishnu Sharma

  Meanwhile, Damanaka had followed the dreadful roaring to the river’s edge, where he saw Sanjivaka charging playfully at the anthills and bellowing happily as he did so. Damanaka soon realized that the large white bull was harmless, and a plan began to form in his scheming mind. ‘I will introduce the bull to the lion and make sure they become friends, and then I will make trouble between them so that the friendship ends. Pingalaka will turn to me for help, and I will play the role of wise advisor till Pingalaka is completely under my influence!’ he plotted. Grinning gleefully, he made his way back to the banyan tree where he had left Pingalaka.

  Pingalaka, waiting for the jackal’s return, saw Damanaka returning through the trees. No fierce beast accompanied him. Taking heart from Damanaka’s solitary approach, Pingalaka ran back to the banyan tree and, gathering his followers about him once more, sat down and waited for Damanaka as though he had never moved from the spot. Damanaka saluted the king and sat down without a word.

  ‘Well?’ demanded Pingalaka, looking at the silent Damanaka. ‘Did you see the fierce creature that is making those sounds?’

  ‘Yes, sire, I have seen him,’ answered Damanaka.

  ‘Are you telling me the truth?’ Pingalaka looked disbelievingly at the jackal. Had he really seen the beast and still managed to escape with his life?

  ‘O king, would I lie to you?’ protested Damanaka.

  Pingalaka frowned in thought. No, Damanaka would not lie to him, he would not dare, for he was the king after all and the jackal was just . . . a jackal. ‘All right, Damanaka, I believe you—you’ve seen him. I don’t wish to argue with you. And anyway, the strong do not attack the weak—which is why the fierce monster probably let you live,’ he said, somewhat testily.

  ‘Sire, you are right,’ said Damanaka humbly. ‘I am just a weak and lowly jackal. Yet, if you wish, I can bring that fierce animal to you, to be your willing servant and follower.’

  ‘Can you truly do that? How?’ asked Pingalaka doubtfully.

  ‘O king, nothing is difficult for one who uses his intelligence,’ replied Damanaka.

  ‘If you can really bring him to me,’ said Pingalaka, ‘I will appoint you minister, and you shall handle all the tasks related to rewards and punishments!’

  Delighted, Damanaka ran as fast as he could to the river where Sanjivaka was still busy charging the anthills and bellowing happily.

  ‘Hey, you! Come here!’ called Damanaka to the bull in a loud voice. ‘King Pingalaka wants you. He wishes to know why you are making such a row in this quiet and peaceful forest!’

  Sanjivaka stopped what he was doing and, puzzled, looked around to see who had spoken. He saw the jackal standing a little way away, and, greeting him politely, asked, ‘Friend, who is this Pingalaka you speak of?’

  ‘Don’t you know our king, the magnificent lion, Pingalaka?’ cried Damanaka, pretending shock and surprise. ‘If you carry on making this dreadful racket, you’ll find out who he is soon enough! He is the lord of this forest and the king of all the animals! And at this very moment, he is sitting surrounded by his faithful followers under that banyan tree!’

  Sanjivaka grew weak with terror. A lion! And a strong and powerful one too! Maybe the lion had summoned him to kill him for disturbing his rest! Convinced that he was about to die, Sanjivaka addressed the jackal in a voice trembling with fear. ‘Friend, you seem to be a good and generous person, and one who speaks well and kindly too!’ he said. ‘If you must take me to your king, then I will come—but first, please beg the king on my behalf to grant me safe-conduct.’

  Damanaka pretended to think for a moment. ‘Very well,’ he said at last, ‘I will ask the king for his promise that he will not harm you in any way. It is wise of you to ask the king to guarantee your safety, because it is true that while we may measure the ocean’s depth and the mountain’s soaring peak, we cannot truly fathom a king’s thoughts and feelings. Wait for me right here. I will run to the king and back, to find out what mood he is in, and then take you with me to see him.’

  Leaving a worried Sanjivaka by the river, Damanaka ran back to Pingalaka. Pretending to be very agitated, he said, ‘O king, that creature you hear by the river is no ordinary animal. He is Lord Shiva’s bull, Nandi himself! The great god Shiva has given the entire forest to him, to live in and to do what he pleases! He told me so himself!’

  Pingalaka grew even more frightened than before. ‘That explains it!’ he cried. ‘Now I understand why he is roaming around so freely in this forest, attracting attention to himself with all his bellowing, unafraid of the lions for whom he is such easy prey!’ He shook his head worriedly. ‘So what did you say to him when he told you who he was?’ he asked.

  ‘Sire,’ said Damanaka, ‘I told him that this forest was the kingdom of the mighty lion Pingalaka, steed of the fierce goddess Chandika herself, and that he, the bull, was our guest. I invited him to join you, sire, for a friendly meal and chat. The bull agreed readily and with pleasure, but has asked for safe-conduct to come into your presence. Now it is up to you to do as you please, O king.’

  ‘That was clever of you!’ cried Pingalaka, greatly relieved. ‘You said exactly what I might have said myself had I been there! You deserve a medal! I grant the bull my protection and safety from all harm. But Damanaka, ask him to give the same to me: a guarantee that he will not harm me. And then bring him here with respect and honour.’

  Damanaka ran back to Sanjivaka, extremely pleased with himself. ‘My plan is working well,’ he thought. ‘Pingalaka has begun to trust me and rely on me, and even wants to reward me! I am the luckiest creature on earth, for hasn’t it been said that honour and recognition from the king come only to the fortunate?’

  The jackal smiled slyly to himself, and reaching the riverbank where Sanjivaka waited anxiously, called to the bull in the sweetest of voices, ‘Friend, I have obtained safe-conduct for you from the king. Now you may go to him without any fear. And when you have gained Pingalaka’s royal favour, remember me, your friend in times of need. As for me, I too will carry out my duties as minister only after consulting you. Working together, you and I, we could rule this forest! But remember, if you forget me, you could lose everything, despite the king’s favour, for it is well known that

  Dantila Seth was rich and worthy

  Beloved of his king

  He treated Gorambha shamefully

  And lost fortune, friends and name.’

  ‘Why, how did that happen?’ asked Sanjivaka.

  So Damanaka related the story of Dantila and Gorambha.

  The Story of Dantila and Gorambha

  Once, in the rich and prosperous city of Bardhaman, there lived a wealthy jeweller called Dantila who was also the governor of the city. He was a popular man—the people loved him because he was a fair and just governor, and the king liked him because he was efficient and trustworthy.

  Now, Dantila had a daughter whom he loved dearly and who was soon to be married. Dantila decided to celebrate his daughter’s wedding with a great feast to which he invited every single person in the city of Bardhaman. Rich and poor, high and low, king, courtier and common man, all were made welcome at the wedding.

  Amongst the guests was a poor man called Gorambha. His job was to keep the floors of the king’s palace spotless and shining, and all day long he swept and swabbed and polished. When Gorambha entered the great hall where the wedding was to be, he was overcome by awe. He had never seen a wedding so grand—not even the king’s palace where he worked had so many glittering lights. Dazzled by the splendour, his head spinning, he sat down with a thud upon the first empty seat he could find. Unfortunately for Gorambha, the seat he had plonked himself upon had been reserved for the priest who was to perform the wedding rites!

  When Dantila saw him sitting there, he was furious. He stormed up to Gorambha and, grabbing him unceremoniously by the collar, threw him out of the door. Gorambha’s face burned with humiliation, and, shocked and angry, he returned to the palace.

 
All night long, Gorambha brooded upon the rude and unjust manner in which Dantila had treated him. ‘I will teach that ill-mannered and arrogant merchant a lesson!’ he declared, and after much thinking, he came up with a sly and cunning plan to get Dantila into trouble.

  The next morning, as the sun rose over the city, the king lay half-awake, half-asleep upon his royal bed. Gorambha, armed with his broom and duster, entered the king’s bedroom and began to busily sweep the floor. As he moved about with his broom, he muttered to himself, ‘Dantila loves the queen, Dantila loves the queen.’ Of course, this was quite untrue, but it had exactly the effect that Gorambha had intended.

  The king heard his muttering and sprang out of bed, now quite fully awake. ‘What? What did you say?’ he cried, grabbing Gorambha and shaking him. ‘Did you say that Dantila loves the queen?’

  ‘Ah no, sire, no! Pay no heed to my words! I am asleep on my feet! I was up all night, gambling! And in my sleep, I don’t know what I may have said!’ stuttered Gorambha, and wriggling out of the king’s grasp, scuttled out of the room.

  The king, furious, banished Dantila from his court. ‘Make sure the scoundrel never enters the royal palace again!’ he cried to his guards.

  Dantila heard of his banishment. ‘There must be some terrible mistake,’ he said to himself, and set off for the palace to see the king. But when he reached there, the palace guards barred his way. They would not let him enter, no matter how much he begged or pleaded.

  Gorambha, who was watching gleefully from a palace window, called out to the guards. ‘Be careful, friends! Dantila is a great man, the king loves him and so do the people. He has the power to punish and reward, so be careful how you cross him! If you anger him, he will throw you out!’

  Dantila recognized Gorambha and understood at once that it was Gorambha who had turned the king against him! He returned home, deep in thought, and summoned Gorambha to him there. This time he treated Gorambha like an honoured guest, presented him with a costly suit of clothes and served him the finest dishes his cooks could prepare. ‘Friend Gorambha,’ he said, ‘I am very sorry for all that happened here. I did not throw you out in anger. It was just that you took the priest’s chair, and, afraid that he might be offended, I foolishly behaved as I did. Friend Gorambha, will you please forgive me? I acted without thinking.’

  Gorambha was a man who forgave as quickly as he took offence. ‘Now wait and see how I restore you to the king’s favour,’ he declared.

  Next morning at sunrise, as the king lay half awake, half asleep upon the royal bed, Gorambha once more entered with his broom, and began to busily sweep the floor. As before, he muttered to himself as he swept and swabbed. ‘Our king’s disgusting! He eats cucumbers while sitting on the royal privy seat,’ repeated Gorambha over and over again.

  The king sprang up, all sleep forgotten. ‘Hey, Gorambha!’ he cried, grabbing him by his collar and shaking him. ‘What did you say? That I eat cucumbers while sitting on the royal potty?’

  ‘No, no, sire, no! Pay no heed to my words! I am asleep on my feet! I was up all night, gambling! And in my sleep, I don’t know what I may have said!’ stuttered Gorambha as before and, wriggling out of the king’s grasp, went back to sweeping the room.

  ‘Hmff! What a strange fellow!’ thought the king, grumpily. ‘He walks around while asleep and mutters about things he knows nothing of! Me? Eat cucumbers? That is preposterous! I never eat cucumbers! And that too while seated on the royal potty! The fellow is quite mad!’ He glared balefully at Gorambha who was still industriously sweeping the royal floor.

  The king was terribly upset by Gorambha’s mutterings. Agitated and annoyed, he paced up and down the royal bedchamber. ‘So, if what he mumbles in his sleep is not true—because clearly it isn’t—then maybe I have done Dantila wrong?’ asked the king of himself. ‘Maybe Dantila does not love the queen at all?’ The more he thought about it, the more he realized how silly he had been to believe the sleepy mutterings of an idiot. ‘I must get Dantila back,’ he decided. ‘This city has never had a better governor, nor I a more trusted officer!’

  Feeling foolish and contrite, the king summoned Dantila, gave him a gift of clothes and called him his ‘trusted friend’. Dantila, restored once more to the king’s favour, regained his former glory. Once again, he became the most important man in the city, loved and respected by all.

  ‘So, do you see how easily even the great may fall, if they ignore those who serve the king?’ asked Damanaka, concluding his tale.

  ‘Yes, I understand,’ nodded Sanjivaka meekly. ‘I will do as you say.’

  ‘Come on, then. Pingalaka does not like to be kept waiting,’ said Damanaka, and, making sure the bull was following him, ran to the banyan tree where Pingalaka still sat with his retinue.

  Sanjivaka greeted Pingalaka with reverence, and Pingalaka, no longer afraid, politely asked after Sanjivaka’s well-being. ‘How did you come to this forest?’ he asked.

  Sanjivaka, reassured by the lion’s courteous tones, told Pingalaka his story—of how he had set out with his master, how he had fallen into the patch of mud whilst pulling the heavy cart and how he had been left behind to die by his master’s servants.

  Pingalaka was deeply moved by the bull’s sad tale. ‘Friend, do not be afraid any more,’ he said. ‘From now on, you are under my protection. Stay here in this forest in peace. But be careful that you do not stray too far from my side, because then I may not be able to keep you safe. This forest is a dangerous place even for fierce animals such as the bear and the wolf. You are a meek and mild creature who lives only on grass and knows not how to hunt—for you this forest could be very dangerous indeed.’

  With the matter of the strange bellowing now resolved, Pingalaka gathered his followers together and went down to the river for a drink. And, having drunk his fill of the cool, sweet water, Pingalaka returned to the forest with his retinue and his new friend, the bull.

  From that day on, Pingalaka relinquished all his kingly cares. Handing over the running of his kingdom to Damanaka and Karataka, he now spent all his time with Sanjivaka, who quickly became his dearest friend. Sanjivaka, who was very learned, had a greatly civilizing influence upon Pingalaka, so much so that the lion forgot his wild and fierce ways and gave up hunting and killing. He now preferred to sit quietly with Sanjivaka, listening to his wise and serene words. No other animal was allowed to disturb the lion and the bull when they were together, not even the two jackals.

  But Pingalaka’s deepening friendship with Sanjivaka and his change from a bloodthirsty hunter to a peace-loving creature became a great problem for the other animals. Most of his retinue depended upon the lion’s kills for food, and now that he had stopped hunting, his followers had nothing to eat! Slowly, they began drifting away. For it has been said that

  If a king does not provide for his followers,

  They will leave him and go away.

  A tree may be tall and mighty,

  Yet if its fruit falls and its leaves wither,

  Birds leave it and fly away.

  Damanaka and Karataka, too, lived upon the meat they scavenged from the lion’s kills. Neglected by the king, and starving, the two jackals put their heads together and began talking.

  ‘Friend Karataka,’ said Damanaka, ‘we are no longer important to the king. Pingalaka’s only concern these days is his friendship with Sanjivaka. He has forgotten his royal responsibilities and his followers have deserted him. In such a state, friend Karataka, what is our duty towards our king?’

  ‘Friend Damanaka,’ said Karataka, ‘even if the king no longer listens to you, it is still your duty as his minister to tell him what is right and what is wrong. When a king does wrong, he is not criticized as much as his advisors are. By bringing this grass-eating creature, this bull, into the king’s life, you have brought trouble into our lives.’

  ‘Friend Karataka,’ said Damanaka, ‘you are right. This situation is my fault, not the king’s, because

  The jackal
was caught in the battle of the rams

  The hermit was ruined by Ashadhbhuti,

  It was nobody’s fault but their own.’

  ‘Why? What happened?’ asked Karataka.

  So Damanaka related the story of the jackal, the hermit and Ashadhbhuti.

  The Story of the Jackal, the Hermit and Ashadhbhuti

  Devasharma was a hermit. He had given up all the comforts of this world and retired to live all alone in a small, bare hut in the forest. He wanted nothing more to do with the world, and spent all his time in prayer and meditation.

  As the years passed, people began to look upon him as a holy man. They would come from far and wide to seek his blessings, and bring him expensive and costly gifts. Someone would bring a shawl of fine silk, another a coat of gold brocade, a third would come laden with diamonds and precious jewels . . . Devasharma would graciously accept the gifts, but since he had no real use for them, he would sell them to the first merchant who came along. In this way, over the years, he built up a tidy store of money.

  Unfortunately, this meant that he was no longer free of worldly cares. The very worries he had left the world to avoid had now followed him to his solitary hut. Now that he was a rich man, he fretted constantly about his hoard. He trusted no one, and dared not let the money out of his sight in case it was stolen. He became so afraid that he began to carry the gold tied up in a little bundle around his waist.

  One day a thief called Ashadhbhuti came by and noticed the bundle of gold coins around the hermit’s waist. ‘Now, what does an ascetic like him want with gold?’ he thought. ‘It would be much more useful to a poor man like me!’ The wicked thief began to scheme and plan. ‘The walls of his hut are made of stone, so I can’t dig through them, and the door is too strong for me to break down. So I must find another way to get to the treasure,’ he said to himself. After scratching his head for a while, he came up with a clever scheme. ‘I will beg the hermit to take me as his disciple, and once I have won his confidence, I will steal his money and run away!’