The Story of the Wild Geese and the Bird Catcher
In a large banyan tree in the forest, there lived a flock of wild geese. One day, a little creeper began to grow at the base of the tree. It sent out tiny, tender, little shoots that clasped the gnarled trunk of the old banyan. The old goose saw the creeper and said to the other birds, ‘Look, a creeper is beginning to grow around our tree. Let us destroy it while it is still small and weak. Otherwise, it will become strong and sturdy and make it easy for a bird catcher to climb our tree.’ But the other birds ignored his advice and did not destroy the little creeper.
The creeper grew and grew, and soon it had covered the entire trunk of the tree and reached into its branches.
One morning, while the wild geese were away looking for food, a bird catcher came by with his nets. ‘Oho,’ he said, seeing the creeper, ‘this tree is easy to climb. Perhaps there are birds up there I can catch.’ He climbed up with his nets and seeing the nests of the wild geese, he set his traps around them and left.
When the birds came back in the evening, they were caught, each and every one, in the bird catcher’s snares. ‘You ignored my advice, and now see what has happened,’ said the old goose.
‘Oh! Oh! Oh! What shall we do? What shall we do?’ cried the birds in despair. ‘Please tell us what to do, we promise that this time we will listen to your advice!’
‘Very well, then, but you must do exactly as I say,’ said the old goose. ‘When the bird catcher returns in the morning, we must all close our eyes and lie as still as possible. He will think that we are dead and he will disentangle us from his nets and throw us down upon the ground. Wait till he has thrown down every one of us. As he begins to climb down the tree, we must rise all at the same time and fly away together. This is the only way to escape the bird catcher and his snares.’
The geese did exactly as the old goose had advised. When the bird catcher came the next day, he saw the birds lying so still that he was convinced they were dead. One by one he disentangled them and threw them upon the ground. As soon as the last bird had been thrown down, and the bird catcher began to climb down the tree, the wild geese rose up as one and flew away together. The poor bird catcher was left scratching his head in bewilderment.
‘And that is why I say, we should consult the old goose,’ concluded the little bird. ‘He is old and experienced and will have good advice for us.’
So off flew all the birds to the old goose who lived in the banyan tree. The old goose heard the sad tale of the tittibh birds and their eggs and said, ‘You need someone strong and powerful to help you, and the strongest and most powerful of all the birds is our king, the eagle Garuda. You should go to him and, telling him your story, ask him to help you.’
So the little tittibh bird and his friends flew to Garuda’s palace and told him their tale of woe. ‘Help us, O Garuda,’ they said. ‘The sea must be punished. Today, he has stolen the tittibh eggs; if he remains unchecked, tomorrow he may destroy us all! You are our king—protect us from our enemy!’
Garuda was greatly angered to hear of the sea’s behaviour. ‘I will dry up its waters immediately,’ he declared.
Now, Garuda was Lord Vishnu's steed, and whenever the great god wished to go somewhere, he would fly him there upon his back. Just as Garuda was about to set out on his mission against the sea, a messenger arrived from Lord Vishnu. ‘Lord Vishnu has to leave urgently for the city Amaravati, and requests your presence immediately, ’ said the messenger.
Garuda shook his great wings in anger. ‘Ha, messenger!’ he said, ‘why does your Lord require my poor presence? I am not worthy of his attention. Tell him that I do not wish to work for him any more. He should find someone else to replace me!’
The messenger had never heard Garuda speak so rudely before. ‘Sire, why do you speak so harshly?’ he asked. ‘What has Lord Vishnu done to offend you so? Please tell me, sire, so I can explain your anger to him.’
‘Look here, messenger,’ said Garuda, still angry, ‘the sea is Lord Vishnu’s subject—it is his abode and his resting place. Yet it has harmed my people. The sea has dared to steal the eggs of this little tittibh who is under my care! I cannot let this wrong remain unavenged. Nor can I let this insult to my honour pass. Tell your Lord Vishnu that I will not work for him any more.’
When Lord Vishnu heard Garuda’s complaint, he nodded thoughtfully and said, ‘I understand why he is so angry. He has a right to sulk and be annoyed. He has served me faithfully and been my friend since time began. If I am to keep his love and friendship, I must be true to him as well.’ Vishnu rose up and went at once to Garuda’s palace.
Garuda, seeing Lord Vishnu there, bowed his head and said, ‘Lord, the sea has stolen the tittibh eggs. He has harmed my people and insulted me. But he is your subject, and so, not wishing to offend you, I have stopped myself from punishing him.’
‘Ah Garuda, it is the master who must bear the blame for his servant’s actions. Since the sea is my subject, I must take responsibility for his crime. So come with me. Let us see if we cannot, together, convince the sea to return the tittibh eggs.’
Then Vishnu went with Garuda and all the other birds to the sea and said, ‘Give back the tittibh eggs at once! Otherwise, I will turn you into the driest desert this minute!’
The sea knew that Lord Vishnu was all-powerful. Trembling with fear, it placed the tittibh eggs gently upon the beach and sank down in shame.
The delighted tittibh thanked Garuda and Vishnu, and took the eggs back to his wife. ‘Did I not say I would defeat the sea?’ he cried. ‘See, here are your eggs, safe and sound. Now cry no more, my beloved wife.’
‘And so,’ concluded Damanaka, ‘that is why I say do not take on an enemy whose true strength you do not know, or, like the sea, you too may have to face defeat and humiliation.’
Sanjivaka was still brooding over Damanaka’s words that Pingalaka wanted to kill him. ‘Friend Damanaka,’ he said, ‘how can I believe that Pingalaka really wants to kill me? All these days he has shown me only love and friendship. Not for a moment has he been angry or unhappy with me. So show me some clear and definite proof that he is angry with me. Once I have such proof and am truly convinced of his evil intentions towards me, I will take steps to protect myself and kill him.’
‘Why do you need proof?’ demanded Damanaka. ‘Pingalaka’s behaviour alone should convince you of how he feels towards you. If he frowns at you, and licks his lips while looking at you, you can be sure he plans to kill you. And if he doesn’t look angry, well, then you know he isn’t angry!’ Damanaka stood up as though to take his leave. ‘I must leave you now, my friend,’ he said. ‘Be careful that you do not tell anyone what I have just told you, for the king has spies everywhere. Take my advice and leave this forest by sunset tonight, for that is the only way you can save yourself.’ After giving Sanjivaka more such advice, Damanaka ran off to see his friend Karataka.
‘Damanaka! What have you been up to?’ asked Karataka, seeing him approach.
‘I have been sowing the seeds of dissension and discord between Sanjivaka and Pingalaka. Now whatever will be will be, for the future is determined by fate,’ replied Damanaka. ‘Which does not mean that we leave everything totally to fate, of course,’ he added after a pause. ‘The clever man does all he can to make events turn his way. If, even then, the future does not work out the way he wants it to, well then, it is not his fault. I, with my clever lies, have made sure that Pingalaka and Sanjivaka will never again speak to each other as friends!’
‘You have not done right, Damanaka,’ said Karataka. ‘It has been said that the one who brings sorrow into another’s life will find only suffering and sadness in his own life. It is easy to break, but not easy to mend. The wind can uproot the strongest trees, but cannot plant again an uprooted one.’
‘You do not know the ways of the world,’ said Damanaka. ‘Illness and an enemy must be stopped the moment they appear, or they will grow and become stronger, till they ultimately d
estroy you. Sanjivaka is our enemy, and I have done no wrong in trying to get rid of him. If a person is clever, he can escape all blame even if his actions have harmed others—just as Chaturaka the clever jackal escaped all blame even though he tricked his rivals to achieve his aim.’
‘Oh, and how did he do that?’ asked Karataka.
So Damanaka told him the story of Chaturaka the jackal, and how he tricked the wolf and the lion.
The Story of How the Jackal Tricked the Wolf and the Lion
Once, in a forest, there lived a mighty lion called Vajradanstra. He had two faithful followers—a wolf called Kravyamukha and a jackal called Chaturaka.
One day, a camel wandered into the forest by mistake. The camel was pregnant and about to give birth, and in the throes of labour, she had become separated from her herd. The lion saw the camel resting under a tree, and claiming her as his prey, attacked and killed her. It was only then that he saw the little newborn calf lying by her side.
The lion and his two attendants, the wolf and the jackal, feasted upon the dead camel, but the lion would not let them harm the baby. Instead, he took the little camel home with him, and said, ‘Child, stay in this forest with me. Here, no one will harm you, for you are now under my protection.’ And because the little camel had pointy ears he named him Shankukarna, or ‘spike-ears’.
The little camel began to live with the lion, the wolf and the jackal. The four animals were firm friends, and spent their days playing with each other or telling each other stories to pass the time. In this way, several years went happily by. The little camel was now quite grown up, but even so, he would not leave the lion’s side.
One day, Vajradanstra got into a fight with a wild elephant. The elephant was huge and strong, and gored the lion with his massive tusks. The lion, badly hurt, could barely walk, leave alone hunt. He called his faithful followers to him and said, ‘Go find me an animal that I can kill even in my wounded state. We can share its meat amongst us all.’
The camel, the wolf and the jackal left to do the lion’s bidding. But the jackal, who was a cunning and sly little creature, thought to himself, ‘What if Vajradanstra was to kill Shankukarna? The camel’s flesh would give us meat for days.’ But first, he would have to convince the lion to kill a creature he regarded as his friend and special charge. Chaturaka sighed. This could be difficult. The lion would never kill the camel for food, unless . . . The wily jackal smiled to himself. He had a plan!
‘Shankukarna, my dearest friend,’ he said to the camel, ‘as you know our lord and master is dying. You, and only you, can save his life.’
‘Oh, if only that is true!’ cried the camel, who loved the lion dearly. ‘Chaturaka, tell me how, at once! I will do anything to save his life!’
‘Well, will you lend your body to the lion? Your flesh will give him life, and you, dear camel, will be born again twice as big and tall as you are now.’
‘Chaturaka, if what you say is true, then the gain is all mine. I will save our beloved master, and get a body that is twice as big as the one I have now! Hurry, let us go to him and offer him my flesh to eat.’
The jackal and the wolf hurried with the camel to the lion and said, ‘Sire, we did as you had said, but we could find no creature for you to kill. However, Shankukarna here has a generous offer—he is prepared to give you his flesh to feast on, if you guarantee that in return he will receive a body twice the size of his present one in his next life.’
‘Indeed, I guarantee it,’ said the lion.
Even before the words were fully out of his mouth, the wolf and jackal fell upon the camel and killed him.
When the camel lay dead before them, the lion said to the jackal, ‘I must go down to the river and bathe before I eat. Stand guard over the camel’s body, Chaturaka. Make sure no one touches it till I return.’ And off went the lion to the river.
Chaturaka eyed the camel’s corpse. ‘This meat will last me for weeks,’ he thought. ‘Now how do I make sure that I get all of it?’ He thought for a little while, then turned to the wolf. ‘Oh Kravyamukha, my brother,’ he cried, ‘I cannot bear to see you hungry. The lion will take a long time to come back from the river. Why don’t you take a few bites of the meat meanwhile? I will make up some story to tell him and make sure he doesn’t blame you.’
The wolf believed the cunning jackal, and without further thought, began to feast upon the camel’s flesh. He had barely taken two bites when the jackal cried, ‘Kravyamukha, watch out! The lion is coming. Stop eating!’
The wolf stopped eating at once, and moved away from the carcass. The lion, returning, saw that the camel’s ear had been eaten. ‘Who has dared to touch this meat?’ he roared. ‘Tell me who it is, and I will kill him right now.’
The wolf looked at the jackal for help, but the jackal laughed scornfully and said, ‘I told you not to touch the meat, Kravyamukha, but you insisted that you wanted the heart for yourself! Now face our master’s anger!’
The wolf realized that the jackal had betrayed him, and terrified, he turned tail and ran away as fast as he could. Chaturaka smiled to himself—that was the wolf chased away; now only the lion remained.
Just then a great camel caravan, laden with goods and merchandise, entered the forest. The leading camel had around its neck a large bell that clanged loudly with every step the camel took. The noise rang out through the forest. ‘What is that noise?’ cried the lion, startled. ‘Chaturaka, my friend, run and find out, what is making that racket?’
Chaturaka ran off obediently through the trees. Seeing the camel caravan, he smiled to himself. He had another nefarious idea! Pretending to be greatly alarmed, he ran back, panting and gasping, to the lion. ‘Run, run, run for your life,’ he cried.
‘Why, what is the matter?’ asked the lion, puzzled.
‘Run, master, run! It is Yamaraj, the god of death himself! He is furious with you because you killed the camel before it was time for him to die. He has now come to punish you. With him has come a vast herd of camels, the spirits of Shankukarna’s ancestors, all intent on revenge. The sound you hear is the bell that the foremost camel wears about his neck. They want your life, master! Run! Save yourself!’
Vajradanstra peered through the trees and saw the caravan. It all seemed to be as Chaturaka had said! Terrified, the lion abandoned the camel’s carcass and ran away as fast as he could!
Chaturaka, the clever jackal, laughed in glee. The camel’s flesh was all his to feast upon—it would last him for a month at least if not more! ‘A little thinking is all it takes to get whatever I want! And what’s more, nobody knows what I have done—so what can be better than that?’ he sang.
‘And so I say, O Karataka,’ concluded Damanaka, ‘the one who thinks shrewdly enough will get what he wants, and no blame will fall on him, even if his plotting and scheming harms others.’
Meanwhile, Sanjivaka was still worrying over all that Damanaka had told him. ‘Why have I been so foolish?’ he asked himself. ‘Here I am, a peaceful creature who lives on grass, not harming anyone. What was I thinking—to become friends with a carnivorous lion? And now I am stuck, a slave, and in his power. This is nobody’s fault but my own—I have brought this on myself.’ Sanjivaka paced worriedly back and forth. ‘Now what should I do? Where can I go? How will I find peace of mind again?’ he wept. ‘Even if I were to go away,’ he reasoned to himself, ‘I would be killed and eaten by some other ferocious beast. It is better to die at Pingalaka’s hands. It has been said that to be defeated by an illustrious and powerful warrior is to partake of some of that warrior’s glory, and there is no warrior more noble than Pingalaka. So it is best I let him kill me.’ Sanjivaka began walking towards the lion’s lair with slow, despondent steps.
As he approached the lion’s den, he saw Pingalaka sitting outside, in exactly the same angry posture that Damanaka had described. This frightened and upset Sanjivaka so much that he stopped and backed away, as far away from him as he could.
When Sanjivaka did not greet
him as he usually did, Pingalaka became convinced that every word that Damanaka had said was true, that Sanjivaka really did intend to kill him. With a roar the lion pounced upon the bull, tearing his flesh with his sharp claws. The bull, in self-defence, struck back, goring the lion with his horns. Torn and bleeding, the two mighty creatures faced each other, ready to attack or defend.
Karataka, watching, turned to Damanaka and cried, ‘You fool, what you have done is not right! You should never have allowed this battle between Pingalaka and Sanjivaka! Now the king may die. And if he survives, and kills Sanjivaka instead, then you would have made him murder an innocent creature and no animal will ever trust him again! So if you are really as smart as you say you are, you need to find a way to end this battle between Pingalaka and Sanjivaka before it is too late!’
Karataka paced angrily up and down. ‘What a fool you are, Damanaka! Do you not know that violence is the solution of last resort, to be used only when all else fails, and even then it is to be avoided? Extreme solutions should not be used where gentler methods might work. Your scheming has resulted in conflict. The true test of a good minister lies in his ability to end conflict and enmity and establish friendship and peace. You are not fit to be a minister!’ Karataka shook his head in disgust. ‘What is the use of saying anything to you? Why do I waste my breath in giving you advice? After all, it is said
A stick of dry wood cannot be bent
A block of hard stone is difficult to cut
In this way, O Suchimukha,
It is difficult to tutor a student who lacks the ability to learn.’
‘And how is that?’ asked Damanaka.
So Karataka told him the story of the monkeys and the tailorbird.
The Story of the Monkeys and the Tailorbird
Once, in a faraway land, a troop of monkeys lived upon the steep, bare side of a tall mountain. During the summer months, the mountainside was warm and pleasant and the monkeys knew no want. But in winter would come the rain and snow, and the monkeys would shiver in misery.
Panchatantra Page 8
