The Story of the Louse and the Bedbug
In a certain country there lived a king who had the most beautiful palace, and in the palace, the most beautiful and tastefully decorated bedroom. White silken sheets covered the royal bed, and in the folds of the sheets lived a little white louse called Mandavisarpini. Every night, as the king lay asleep, she would creep out of her hiding place and feast on his blood. The king did not know she was there, for he never felt her bite, and the little insect was happy and content with her life.
One day, a bedbug called Agnimukha wandered into the royal bedroom and upon the king’s royal bed. ‘Where have you come from, Agnimukha?’ cried the louse. ‘Run away quickly before anyone sees you, for if the king’s servants see you they will kill you at once!’
But Agnimukha was not afraid. ‘Madam,’ he said, ‘do not be so rude and brusque. Instead, welcome me graciously as your honoured guest. Ask me how I am, and what news I have; say you haven’t seen me for a while. Offer me a place to rest, some food and drink . . . that is how a guest is received!’ He crawled all around the king’s bed, admiring the soft silken sheets. ‘I must say that you do well for yourself here, madam,’ he said, settling himself comfortably into a silken fold. ‘Though I have travelled far and wide, and sipped the blood of a hundred men, I must confess that I have never tasted the blood of a king.’ Agnimukha sighed wistfully. ‘Madam,’ he continued, ‘I am your guest and have come to you tired and hungry. Let me stay here tonight and sip the king’s sweet blood.’
‘But Agnimukha,’ protested Mandavisarpini, ‘your bite is sharp—it hurts first, and then it itches. My bite is gentle, so that the king is not even aware of it. Besides, I am patient and willing to wait till he has fallen asleep before I bite him. You are hasty and restless, and may not be prepared to wait. If the king feels even the gentlest nip, he will have us destroyed.’
But the bedbug was not to be swayed. He begged and begged till the louse gave in. ‘Oh very well, you can stay,’ she said, ‘but you must do as I tell you: stay hidden deep beneath the sheets, and wait till the king has fallen asleep and I have drunk my fill. Only then may you have your turn.’
Agnimukha promised to follow all her instructions faithfully.
As the two insects talked, the king came into the room. He was tired, and stretched himself upon the bed.
Agnimukha, who was as impatient as he was greedy, couldn’t bear to wait till the king fell asleep. Forgetting his promise to the louse, he crawled up to the king and bit him.
The bedbug’s bite was as sharp as a needle, and the king jumped up in pain. ‘Ow!’ he cried. ‘There’s something nasty in my bed!’ And calling his attendants, he ordered them to strip the sheets off the bed, and find the creature that had bitten him. ‘It could be a bedbug or a louse,’ said the king. ‘Find it and kill it, so that I may sleep in peace!’
The royal servants turned the bed inside out. Agnimukha, who was quick and nimble, scurried away and hid himself in a corner of the bed. But Mandavisarpini, who was slower, could not get away, and the servants found her and killed her.
And so the louse lost her life, all because she gave shelter to a stranger and trusted someone she did not know.
‘And so I say,’ concluded Damanaka, ‘do not offer protection to a stranger. It has also been said that,
The one who gives a stranger all his friendship
While forsaking his own kind,
He, like the foolish Chandarava,
Meets an unhappy end.’
‘Oh, what happened to him?’ asked Pingalaka.
So Damanaka told him the story of the jackal who fell into a vat of indigo dye.
The Story of the Jackal Who Fell into a Vat of Indigo Dye
In a forest far away, there lived a jackal called Chandarava. One day, starving and hungry, and unable to find anything to eat in the forest, he decided to go into the city to look for food.
As he scrabbled amongst the rubbish heaps in search of scraps, a pack of dogs came by and, seeing the jackal, they stopped. They were not friendly dogs, but fierce and savage fighters who did not allow any strangers into their territory. ‘Who are you? How dare you come into our town?’ they growled. And howling in fury, they fell upon the poor jackal and began to bite and scratch him.
The terrified jackal somehow managed to get away. He ran through the streets faster than he had ever run, while the dogs ran after him, howling for his blood. Desperate, he ducked into the open doorway of a house and ran through into the courtyard.
The house belonged to a washerman, and in the courtyard stood a large vat full of indigo dye. Chandarava, of course, did not know that the vat was full of dye and jumped into it without a thought. Imagine his shock to find himself drowning in some awful liquid! Choking and gasping for breath, he clawed his way out of the vat and cautiously made his way back into the street, not realizing that he had been dyed indigo.
The dogs, lying in wait for their quarry, did not recognize him. Instead, they took one terrified look at the indigo creature and fled, yelping, down the street. They had never seen such a strange animal in all their lives! Chandarava stared after them, amazed. What could have bitten those mangy creatures? Why had they run away? Surely it couldn’t be because of him?
Or could it? Chandarava looked down at himself—and jumped in surprise. What on earth had happened to him? His fur was a bright indigo, not his usual beautiful grey! He looked so ugly! Maybe that was why the dogs had run away. He was too ugly to even chase. Miserable and afraid, he ran back to the forest.
In the forest, the other animals too did not recognize him. They, too, had never seen a creature with indigo fur. Terrified, they ran squealing for their lives. ‘Who is he? We have never seen a creature so strange! Maybe he is an evil spirit or maybe he is a monster! He will eat us all! Run, run, run!’ they cried.
Chandarava, astonished, realized that the animals were afraid of him. ‘This could work in my favour,’ he thought, grinning slyly to himself. Taking a deep breath, he called out, ‘O forest creatures, big and small! Do not be afraid! I will not harm you. The gods themselves have made me. They named me Kakud-druma, and sent me here to protect the earth. That is why I have come—to look after you. From now on, I am your king and you are my people.’
The other animals believed him. After all, they had never seen an indigo jackal before!
They gathered round and greeted him, ‘O king, we await your orders,’ they cried.
Chandarava, as King Kakud-druma, now proceeded to enjoy a life of ease. He assigned each animal specific tasks for his comfort, all except the jackals. The jackals were his own kind, and afraid that they might discover who he really was, he had them all sent away. ‘We want nothing to do with jackals,’ he declared and banished them from the forest.
Turning his face away from his own people, he now began to spend his time with the other animals. The lion and the tiger he put in charge of hunting. They would kill their prey and bring it to him, and he would distribute the food amongst the others. The animals vied with each other to please their strange new king, and the jackal was happy.
Life continued in this way for some time.
One night, as Chandarava in his new form of King Kakud-druma sat surrounded by his subjects, a howling, wailing, barking song was heard upon the breeze. It was the jackal pack, calling through the trees. Chandarava jumped up in joy. He had quite forgotten that he was supposed to be King Kakud-druma, and raising his snout to the moon, he howled in reply. The call of his own kind was hard to resist.
The other animals stared at him in shock. ‘He is just a jackal, with his fur dyed blue!’ they cried. ‘He is no king sent here by the gods! He is just a liar!’ they shouted.
‘Kill him!’ growled the lion and the tiger, and pouncing upon him, they tore him to shreds.
‘And so,’ concluded Damanaka, ‘do not forsake your old friends, or you will meet a sad and painful death, as surely as did Chandarava the jackal.’
‘But Daman
aka, what proof do you have that Sanjivaka wants to kill me?’ asked Pingalaka, unconvinced.
‘Well, when I saw Sanjivaka this morning, he said to me, “I will kill Pingalaka at dawn tomorrow!” Those were his very words, sire. What greater proof do you need? You will see for yourself—tomorrow at dawn he will meet you, his eyes red with anger and his lips quivering. You may then decide for yourself whether he wants to kill you or not. I have done my duty towards you and warned you. I can do no more.’ And so saying, Damanaka stood up and walked away, leaving Pingalaka worried and confused.
Damanaka then went in search of Sanjivaka. He saw him sitting alone, and running up to him, greeted him and then sat down quietly by his side. Sanjivaka greeted him warmly, ‘Friend Damanaka! How are you? I haven’t seen you for a while. Tell me, is there something I can do for you?’
‘How can I be well?’ replied Damanaka mournfully. ‘I am only the king’s servant, and my happiness, even my life, depends on the king’s mood. As a royal servant, I cannot eat when I want to, or sleep when I want to. I am always at the king’s beck and call. Yes, my life is comfortable, but what is the point of comforts, Sanjivaka, without freedom?’
‘Speak clearly, what is it that you wish to say?’ asked Sanjivaka, puzzled by these sudden complaints.
‘Friend,’ sighed Damanaka, pretending to be deeply troubled, ‘I am the king’s trusted minister, and it is not right that I should betray his confidence. But because I like you, and because I was the one who brought you here, I will tell you the king’s secret: he plans to kill you. This morning when I saw him, he said to me, “Tomorrow at dawn I will kill Sanjivaka, and by doing that, I will once again provide meat and food for my followers.” I protested, I pleaded, I begged him to spare you. I reminded him that you were his dearest friend, but Pingalaka would not listen to me. So then I came running here, to warn you of his plans. Now, do what you think is best.’
Damanaka’s words struck Sanjivaka with the force of a thunderbolt, and he fell to the ground senseless. Recovering consciousness after a while, he said, ‘The friendship that I gave to Pingalaka is the biggest mistake I ever made. Real friendship is possible only among equals, and the weak should never try to make friends with the strong. After all, cows prefer the company of other cows, horses that of other horses, fools seek out other fools and wise men are happy only with others like themselves. I should never have hoped to be friends with Pingalaka—he is the king, and I am just an ordinary bull. A king can love no one, and friendship with an insincere friend can only lead to sorrow. See how the wild goose, who made friends with an owl, was killed by an arrow.’
‘How did that happen?’ asked Damanaka.
So Sanjivaka told him the story of the wild goose and the owl.
The Story of the Wild Goose and the Owl
Once, upon a large lake in a forest, lived a wild goose called Madarakta. He had lived on that lake for many years and was happy and content with his life.
One day, an owl came flying by and alighted on the branch of a tree overhanging the lake. The wild goose swam up to the owl and greeted him politely. ‘What brings you here, friend, to this remote lake in the forest?’ he asked the owl.
‘I have come to meet you,’ replied the owl. ‘You are known far and wide for your wisdom, and I wanted to pay my respects.’
The goose, pleased and flattered by the owl’s words, invited him to stay. ‘Come, live here with me by the shores of this lake,’ he said. ‘Stay for as long as you like.’ The owl accepted the invitation, and the two birds began to live together in harmony and friendship.
One day, the owl declared that he must leave. ‘I have enjoyed my time here with you, friend, but now I must return home,’ he said. ‘If you love me truly and think of me as your friend, please come and visit me.’ And bidding goodbye to the goose, off he flew to his nest.
Some time passed, and the goose began to miss the owl. ‘I have lived all my life on this lake,’ he reflected. ‘Maybe it is time for me to see the world and visit my friend.’ And the goose flew off in search of his friend. After searching for a while, and asking birds and animals for directions, he found the owl’s home, a dark hole in the hollow trunk of an old tree.
‘Hello, old friend! See, I have come to see you as you had said! Come on, come out of your hole, I have so much to tell you!’ said the goose, happy and excited to have found his friend at last.
But the owl was not happy to see him at all. ‘Look, I don’t come out in the day,’ he said rudely. ‘If you want to talk to me, you will have to wait till it is dark.’
The goose was sad, but waited patiently for the sun to set. At last it was night, and the owl came out of his hole. But by then the goose was so tired with his long journey and having to wait for the owl all day that he fell fast asleep at the entrance to the owl’s home. Leaving him asleep outside his nest, the owl flew off into the night in search of food.
Now, close by the owl’s old tree, a caravan of merchants had set up camp for the night. As dawn broke, the caravan’s leader blew loudly on a conch-shell to wake up the others. The owl, startled, gave a loud screech and quickly flew into the safety of his hole in the tree trunk. He did not bother to wake the goose or warn him, and left him sleeping by the entrance to his home.
The merchants, hearing the owl’s screech, were very disturbed. ‘This will bring us bad luck on our journey,’ they said. One of them was an expert archer, who could shoot by sound alone. Fitting an arrow to his bow, he aimed it in the direction of the screech and let fly. The arrow whizzed through the air and pierced the sleeping goose through his heart, killing him instantly.
And so the wild goose lost his life, all because he tried to be friends with someone who did not care.
‘And that is why I say,’ sighed Sanjivaka, ‘that friendship with an insincere friend can only lead to sorrow. So also my friendship with the king.’ He paced up and down sadly. ‘I can never please Pingalaka,’ he sighed. ‘If he had been angry with me for a reason, I could have tried to set it right. But it seems he is angry with me for no reason at all, so what am I to do? It is very difficult to understand the moods and fancies of kings.’ Sanjivaka fell silent, lost in unhappy thoughts. ‘I know what must really have happened,’ he said after a while. ‘Someone must have poisoned Pingalaka’s mind against me. Perhaps some animal was jealous of my friendship with him and turned him against me.’
‘If that is so, then you can soon win him back,’ said Damanaka. ‘All you have to do is talk to him and tell him how much you love him.’
‘No, that will not work,’ said Sanjivaka sadly. ‘Mean and petty people can always find a way to do away with a good and noble person, even if he is stronger than them– just as the jackal and the crow murdered the unsuspecting camel.’
‘Oh! And how did they do that?’ asked Damanaka.
So Sanjivaka told him the story of the camel, the jackal and the crow.
The Story of the Camel, the Jackal and the Crow
Once, in a certain jungle, there lived a lion called Madotkata. Amongst his retinue of animals were a crow and a jackal.
One day, as Madotkata and his followers were wandering through the forest, they saw a strange, gangly beast such as they had never seen before. It had a long, swinging neck, big, flat feet and a huge hump on its back. ‘What animal is that?’ asked the lion, mystified.
‘It’s a camel, sire,’ said the crow, who was a very knowledgeable bird. ‘He lives with men and he works for them. Kill him; he is your rightful prey.’
‘I can’t kill him,’ said Madotkata. ‘He is a guest in this forest. Go and make him welcome, tell him that he is under my protection, then bring him here to me.’
The crow, the jackal and the other animals did as their king commanded and brought the camel to him. ‘Who are you? What are you doing in my forest?’ asked the lion kindly.
‘Sire, my name is Kathanaka,’ replied the camel. ‘I come from a village far away where I live with my master. I carry heavy loads for
him. Sometimes, he yokes me to a cart loaded with all kinds of goods and we journey with other men and their camels to faraway lands to trade and barter. It was on one such journey that we entered your forest. I hurt my foot and could not walk, so my master left me behind. I have lost my way and do not know where to go.’
Madotkata was moved by the camel’s sad tale. ‘Friend, come and live with us in peace. Forget your master and your life of drudgery. This forest is now your home.’
The camel gratefully accepted the lion’s invitation and made the forest his home. His days now passed in peace and contentment. He had no more heavy loads to pull, and spent his days grazing upon the sweet grass and delicious leaves that grew in the forest.
One day, Madotkata got into a fight with an angry elephant and was badly wounded by the elephant’s sharp tusks. Though he survived his wounds, he could no longer hunt or kill. Soon, he and all the other animals who depended upon him for food began to starve. ‘I cannot bear to see my people starve,’ said Madotkata, and ordered his followers to find and bring to him prey he could kill even in his wounded state.
After searching the forest in vain for an animal the wounded lion could kill, the jackal turned to the crow and said, ‘Why do we tire ourselves with this futile search? Kathanaka the camel is right here—why don’t we kill him?’
‘You know how Madotkata feels about that,’ replied the crow with a shrug. ‘He has given his word that the camel will be safe here, and nothing is going to make him change his mind.’
‘Ah, leave that to me!’ said the jackal. ‘I will use my powers of persuasion and make our master change his mind in a jiffy!’
The jackal ran back to the lion and said, ‘Sire, we have looked everywhere but have found no animal that you could kill in your weakened state—except the camel, Kathanaka. He is so meek and gentle, you could kill him easily, and his flesh would satisfy us all.’
Panchatantra Page 6
