Panchatantra

by Vishnu Sharma

  Once, in a forest, there lived a fierce and cruel lion called Bhasuraka. Each day he would hunt and kill dozens of animals—deer, buffalo, boar and even smaller creatures such as rabbits and squirrels. While everyone knows that lions must kill for food, Bhasuraka killed many more creatures than he could eat. For him, killing had become a pleasure.

  The other animals were terrified of him. ‘No one is safe in this forest! We must find a way to stop him,’ they cried. In despair, the frightened animals went to the lion and begged him to stop the slaughter. ‘You are our king, sire,’ they said. ‘A king who looks after his people receives from them everything he wants. Barren land, if ploughed, yields a good harvest, saplings watered lovingly grow into tall trees, and dry twigs patiently rubbed together give fire. Look after us, O king, and we will fulfil your every wish. Do not kill our innocent children. Be like the wick in the lamp, sire, which gently draws up the oil without destroying the bowl that holds it. Take from us, O king, but do so gently, without cruelty.’

  ‘So what would you like me to do?’ growled Bhasuraka irritably.

  The animals gathered up their courage and replied, ‘Sire, we only ask that you stop your wanton killing. In return, we will send you one animal each day from amongst ourselves to eat. You will get food without having to hunt, and we will once again be able to walk around in the forest without fearing for our lives every moment.’

  ‘Hmm, maybe they are right and I will appear more kingly if I am gracious,’ thought Bhasuraka. ‘All right,’ he growled. ‘I accept your offer. But do not try to trick me! If even one day passes without an animal coming to me, I will kill each and every one of you.’

  The animals trembled at the lion’s dreadful warning and ran back quickly into the forest. From that day on, they began sending one animal every morning to the lion. The lion, too, kept his promise, killing and eating only that one animal each day. There was peace in the forest once more.

  Now, the day came when it was the rabbit’s turn to go to the lion. He did not want to go—after all, who wants to be eaten? But he knew he had no choice, because if he didn’t go, the lion would kill all the animals in the forest. The rabbit set off slowly and unhappily for the lion’s den. ‘This is not right,’ he said to himself. ‘The lion still terrorizes us, even though he has stopped his senseless killing!’

  As the rabbit hopped slowly along, he came to an old well. Curious, and in no hurry at all to reach the lion, he hopped up on to the brick wall bounding the well and peered in. The well was full of clean, fresh water, and peering back at him was a perfect reflection of himself. ‘Aha!’ cried the rabbit. ‘I know how to get rid of that cruel lion!’ And dawdling no more, he hurried as fast as he could to the lion’s lair.

  Bhasuraka had been waiting impatiently all morning. He was hungry and in a bad temper. ‘If someone does not show up soon, I will kill all those lying animals!’ he declared to himself.

  Just then he saw the rabbit hurrying towards him. ‘You are late!’ he roared. ‘And what’s worse, you are too small to satisfy my hunger! I will eat you, and then I will kill all the animals in the forest!’

  ‘Sire, do not be angry,’ said the rabbit, humbly. ‘Today it was my turn to come to you, but because I am so small, the animals decided to send four other rabbits with me. We were hurrying here when suddenly another lion caught us. We pleaded with him to let us go, and told him that our king, Bhasuraka, was waiting for us. But he only laughed scornfully. “Bhasuraka? That old fraud? He is not your king; I am!” he said. When I argued with him, he sent me here with a message for you. The other rabbits are his prisoners still.’

  ‘And what is his message?’ growled Bhasuraka, who was now even angrier than before.

  ‘He has challenged you to a trial of strength,’ said the rabbit.

  Bhasuraka grew livid with rage. ‘How dare he challenge me?’ he roared. ‘Take me to this scoundrel at once! I will show him who the real king is!’

  ‘You are right to fight him, sire, and he deserves no better,’ cautioned the rabbit. ‘But he is a sly and cunning fellow for he has built a fort within which he sits in safety. It may not be so easy to defeat him.’

  ‘Do you think a few walls will stop me?’ growled Bhasuraka.

  ‘No, sire, of course not, but please do be careful,’ begged the rabbit, pretending to be nervous and scared.

  ‘Enough of your timidity,’ roared Bhasuraka. ‘You are no judge of valour! Lead me to his lair and watch me destroy him!’

  ‘Yes, sire,’ said the rabbit humbly, and set off back to the well.

  As they approached the well, the rabbit stopped. ‘It seems the lion has retreated into his fort, sire,’ he said, pointing at the well.

  Bhasuraka ran up to the well and peered into its dark depths. And what did he see? A large and ferocious lion glaring back at him! He roared in fury, and the lion in the well roared back at him. ‘I will teach you a lesson you will never forget!’ growled Bhasuraka ferociously. But the lion in the well was not afraid and growled right back at him! Bhasuraka did not wait any longer. With a roar that shook the forest, he lunged at the lion in the well—only to fall into the well with a great splash.

  That, of course, was the end of Bhasuraka the lion. The rabbit hopped back to the forest with the good news, and from that day onwards, the animals lived in peace and without fear.

  ‘And that is why I say,’ concluded Damanaka, ‘that intelligence is greater than brute strength. So friend Karataka, let me go to Pingalaka and Sanjivaka. I will cleverly cause dissension between them and end their friendship.’

  ‘Very well, friend Damanaka, then go,’ replied Karataka, ‘and may you be successful.’

  Damanaka said a hurried farewell to his friend and ran off into the forest. He soon found Pingalaka sitting in a small clearing. For once, the lion was on his own without Sanjivaka. Damanaka walked up to him and after greeting him respectfully, sat down in silence before him.

  ‘What news, my friend?’ asked Pingalaka kindly. ‘I haven’t seen you for many days!’

  ‘O king, you do not need us now,’ replied Damanaka dolefully. ‘That is why I do not come to see you any more. Even now, I have come only to warn you. I cannot stay silent when you are in danger. So though you may not like to hear what I have to say, say it I must.’

  ‘What do you mean? Speak clearly!’ ordered Pingalaka brusquely.

  ‘Sire,’ answered Damanaka, ‘Sanjivaka is planning to take your crown. I know because he told me so himself! Taking me aside he said to me, “Damanaka, I now have a good measure of Pingalaka! He is not in the least bit frightening, and as for strong—ha! I can easily beat him in a fight. I will kill him and become king.”’

  Damanaka’s words struck Pingalaka with all the force of a thunderbolt, and he fell to the ground in a faint.

  ‘Hmmm. It seems that Pingalaka does love Sanjivaka very much,’ thought Damanaka as he stood beside his unconscious king. ‘Now, in such a situation, what must I do?’

  As Damanaka stood there pondering, Pingalaka regained consciousness. Sitting up, the lion said, ‘Sanjivaka is my best friend. He is as dear to me as life itself. Can he really be plotting to kill me?’

  ‘Sire, it is not true that a friend will always remain a friend,’ replied Damanaka. ‘All those who serve under a king wish to be king themselves. It is only their own incompetence that keeps them where they are, not lack of ambition or desire.’

  ‘No matter what you say, I look upon Sanjivaka as my friend and I cannot feel anything but love and affection towards him,’ declared Pingalaka.

  ‘It is precisely because of such trust that plots against the crown are successful,’ cried Damanaka. Pretending to be deeply disturbed, he continued, ‘Besides, what special quality do you see in this big, clumsy clod of a creature? Do you favour him so much because you hope to use his strength against your enemies? If so, know that he cannot be of any help to you. The bull is only a poor grass-eating thing, while your enemies are predators and hunters, m
eat-eaters all, strong and fierce. He cannot fight them. I say we accuse him of being a traitor and kill him.’

  ‘No,’ Pingalaka shook his massive head. ‘I have praised him in front of all the animals and granted him safe conduct in this forest. Besides, I cannot feel any anger towards him, even if he is plotting against me. So how can I kill him?’

  ‘Sire,’ said Damanaka, ‘do not push away good advice, for it is well known that

  I paid no heed to what they said

  The tiger, the monkey and the snake

  And so I found myself in a mess

  Tricked and betrayed by the man.’

  ‘Oh, and how was that?’ asked Pingalaka.

  So Damanaka told him the story of the tiger, the monkey, the snake and the man.

  The Story of the Tiger, the Monkey, the Snake and the Man

  In a town far away, there lived a man called Yagyadatta with his wife and children. They were very poor, and every day Yagyadatta’s wife would complain and grumble and beg him to earn more money. ‘The children are hungry, there is no food in the house . . . go, find some work, do something, anything, just earn some money before our children starve!’ she would say.

  Finally, tired of his wife’s nagging, Yagyadatta decided to go away on a long journey. He walked and walked and soon came to a dense forest. He was tired and thirsty; so he began searching for water. At last, he found an old well, hidden amongst the trees and overgrown with weeds and long grass. He peered into the well in the hope of finding water, but the well was dry, and trapped in it were a tiger, a monkey, a snake and a man. The moment they saw Yagyadatta they all began begging and pleading for help.

  The tiger was the loudest. ‘Help me out of this well,’ he roared, ‘so that I may go back to my wife and cubs in the forest.’

  ‘Why should I pull you out?’ cried Yagyadatta. ‘The whole world trembles with fear at your name. What if you kill me?’

  ‘I give you my word that I will not kill you,’ promised the tiger solemnly.

  ‘Oh, very well then, I will help you,’ said Yagyadatta, and untying his turban, he let it down into the well and pulled the tiger up.

  Now the monkey and the snake began to beg and plead, and after they had promised not to harm him in any way, Yagyadatta pulled them out. The animals thanked him again and again.

  ‘Look, that is where my home is, in a cave deep in those mountains,’ said the tiger pointing towards some mountain peaks that rose over the trees. ‘You must come and visit me one day and allow me to thank you properly for your kindness to me.’

  ‘And my home is amongst those mountains too, in a tall tree that grows beside the waterfall,’ said the monkey. ‘You must visit me too, so I can repay your kindness.’

  ‘As for me, I am everywhere,’ said the snake. ‘If ever you are in trouble, think of me and I will come.’

  As the three animals prepared to say goodbye, the man in the well called out. ‘Help me out too!’ he pleaded.

  The animals looked at each other and speaking as one, said to Yagyadatta, ‘No, do not help him. He is a rogue and a scoundrel, and he will only make trouble for you. It is best that you leave him where he is.’ And then, taking their leave, they disappeared into the forest.

  Yagyadatta stood thinking over their words, and all the while the man in the well kept calling for help. ‘Please, kind sir, help me out, don’t leave me to die here,’ he cried.

  At last Yagyadatta, who was essentially a kind person, took pity on the poor man and pulled him out of the well.

  ‘I am a goldsmith, and I live in the big city beyond the mountains,’ said the man. ‘If ever you have gold that you need to be worked into jewellery, come to me and I will help you.’ And so saying, he too set off through the forest towards his home.

  Yagyadatta wandered through the forest for a few days more, and then decided to return home. On his way back, he decided to visit the monkey. The monkey welcomed him warmly and offered him the sweetest, most delicious fruits in the forest to eat. When Yagyadatta had eaten as much as he could, and after they had chatted for a while like good friends do, Yagyadatta stood up to go. ‘I will now say goodbye, my friend,’ he said to the monkey. ‘As a last favour to me, could you show me the way to the tiger’s house?’

  The monkey gave him directions, and very soon Yagyadatta reached the tiger’s lair. The tiger was overjoyed to see him and welcomed him with great affection into his home. Eager to repay Yagyadatta’s kindness, the tiger brought out a gold necklace and other pieces of jewellery from his lair and handed them to Yagyadatta. ‘Many months ago, a prince and his horse had come riding by here,’ explained the tiger. ‘I was hungry, so I killed and ate them. But I saved the prince’s jewels. And here they are for you. Take them, and may all your troubles come to an end.’

  Yagyadatta accepted the tiger’s generous gift with joy. At last, here was a way to get some money for his wife and starving children. He bid the tiger goodbye and decided to visit the goldsmith he had rescued from the well. ‘He owes me a favour, so he will certainly help me sell these jewels,’ thought Yagyadatta.

  Soon he reached the city where the goldsmith lived and found his way to his house. The goldsmith received him with great respect. After Yagyadatta had rested and refreshed himself, the goldsmith said, ‘It is an honour that you have come to visit me. Tell me, what can I do for you?’

  Yagyadatta pulled out the jewels that the tiger had given to him and said, ‘I found these jewels in the forest. Can you sell them for me so I can get some money and return home to my wife and children?’

  The goldsmith took the jewels and examined them closely. ‘Why, these are the very same ornaments I had made for the prince a few months ago!’ he realized. He did not say a word to Yagyadatta, but asking him to wait where he was, he ran with the jewels to the king. ‘Sire,’ he cried. ‘Look what I have found! The prince’s jewels!’

  Now this prince was the same prince the tiger had killed. No one knew what had become of him. His father, the king, had searched high and low for him, but no one had ever found any sign of him till now.

  ‘Where did you find these?’ cried the king.

  ‘Sire, a man came to me and said he had found them in the forest. I have kept him waiting in my house.’

  ‘I am sure he killed my son and stole his jewels!’ declared the king, and at once ordered his soldiers to fetch Yagyadatta and throw him into the dungeons. ‘Execute him at dawn tomorrow,’ ordered the king.

  Poor Yagyadatta. He lay, bound hand and foot, on the cold stone floor, and wept. ‘Oh, if only I had listened to the advice of my friends, the tiger, the monkey and the snake,’ he wept. As soon as he thought of him, the snake appeared, as he had promised he would. ‘How can I help you, my friend?’ he asked.

  ‘I did not kill the prince. I am innocent,’ said Yagyadatta. ‘Please help me to get out of here.’

  ‘Very well,’ said the snake. ‘I will go to the royal palace and bite the king’s beloved queen. She will fall into a faint and seem as though she is about to die. Nothing and no one will be able to make her better—not the king’s doctors, not the cleverest physicians in the land. I will make sure of that. Only the touch of your hands will save her. And once you save the queen, they will have to let you go.’ And the snake slithered off to carry out his plan.

  Soon a great hue and cry arose. ‘What is the matter?’ asked Yagyadatta of the prison guards.

  ‘The queen has been bitten by a snake and lies dying in the royal palace,’ they said. ‘No one has been able to help, and the king has declared a reward for anyone who can save his beloved wife.’

  ‘I can save her, for I know how to remove the poison from her body,’ said Yagyadatta.

  The guards ran to the king with the news that the prisoner was claiming that he could save the queen. The king ordered that Yagyadatta be released and brought to the palace at once. Yagyadatta did as the snake had told him and laid his hands gently over the queen. At once the poison left her and she opened he
r eyes and sat up.

  The king was overjoyed, and thanked Yagyadatta with all his heart. He asked him to be seated and then with great courtesy asked, ‘Sir, the gold ornaments that you brought to the goldsmith belong to our missing son. Please tell us truthfully how you came by them.’

  Yagyadatta then told the king and the queen the whole story. The king had the goldsmith thrown into prison, and gave Yagyadatta a handsome reward and made him his prime minister. Yagyadatta sent for his wife and children, and they lived happily ever after.

  ‘And so,’ concluded Damanaka, ‘if he had listened to the tiger, the monkey and the snake in the first place, he would never have got into a pickle, and it was only by listening to the snake again that he got himself out of that mess. That is why I say, sire, do not disregard good advice.’

  ‘But,’ objected Pingalaka, not quite convinced, ‘As you yourself just pointed out, Sanjivaka is only a weak, grass-eating animal. What harm can he do us that I should kill him?

  ‘Sire, it is not wise to pardon someone who plots against the crown,’ said Damanaka. ‘Sanjivaka has made you forget your duties as a king. Your followers depend upon you. Your kills used to provide them with food. But now they go hungry because in Sanjivaka’s company, you have given up hunting. Many of your followers have already left you, and soon the ones remaining will go away too. As long as you stay with Sanjivaka, you will not feel like hunting because the friends we have influence what we do.’ Damanaka paused to draw breath. ‘Besides,’ he continued, ‘what do you know about him? He came here out of nowhere, a stranger, whose faults are as unknown to us as his virtues. It is well known that

  Do not offer refuge to a stranger

  Whose faults are quite unknown;

  The louse to the bedbug gave shelter

  And died through his careless behaviour.’

  ‘Oh! And how was that?’ asked Pingalaka, curious.

  So Damanaka told him the story of the louse and the bedbug.