Panchatantra

by Vishnu Sharma

  The next day, the snake returned and, when the frog king wanted a ride, moved at a slow and boring crawl, quite unlike the previous day. ‘Why, snake, what is the matter?’ asked Jalapada. ‘Why are you moving so slowly?’

  ‘Sire, I am weak with hunger and do not have the strength to carry you properly today,’ replied the snake.

  ‘Well, why don’t you eat some of the smaller frogs?’ suggested Jalapada.

  ‘Since the brahmin has cursed me to eat only what you allow me to eat I shall accept your gracious offer,’ replied the snake humbly. He then proceeded, quite happily, to make a large and tasty meal out of the littler frogs. He would eat as many of the smaller frogs as he could every day, so that very soon he grew well and strong. Smiling to himself, he thought, ‘Thanks to my clever ploy, I am getting a steady supply of delicious frogs. I am well provided for as long as these frogs last.’

  As for Jalapada, the frog king, he was so enamoured by his new steed that he was quite blind to the snake’s deceit. As the days passed and the supply of little frogs came to an end, the king gave the snake permission to eat the larger frogs, and then the even larger ones, till the snake had eaten up all the frogs, each and every one of them, including the frog king himself.

  ‘Sire,’ concluded Sthirajivi, ‘just as Mandavisha ate up all the frogs through cunning, I too destroyed the owls through deceit and clever thinking.’

  ‘You have done very well and have proved your worth,’ said Meghavarna, pleased. ‘You took up a difficult task and did not give up till the very end—that is a mark of true greatness. Lesser beings would have given up halfway or not dared to do what you have done.’

  Sthirajivi bowed his head, graciously accepting the king’s praise. ‘Now that all your enemies are dead, you should focus on the welfare of your people. You have earned great glory, king, and may you live long to enjoy it. But glory is transient and can vanish in an instant if misused. So, O king, enjoy your royal status, but remember, rule your people with mercy and justice.’

  ‘And so ends the third part of your lessons,’ concluded Vishnusharma.

  Part 4

  The Loss of Gains

  Vishnusharma said to the three princes, ‘I shall now commence the fourth part of your lessons, which tells of gain and loss. The man who does not use his own judgement, but foolishly lets himself be persuaded by others, loses all his gains, while the man who keeps his head even in danger, and thinks calmly and clearly, overcomes even the most difficult situations. Look at how the crocodile was fooled by the clever monkey, who managed to escape with his life. This is how it happened.’

  The Story of the Monkey and the Crocodile

  It has been heard that, by an ocean shore, there once grew a great and ancient jamun tree, which bore fruit all year round. In that tree lived a monkey called Raktamukha. One day, a crocodile called Karalamukha swam out of the sea and, quite by chance, stopped to rest in the soft sand under the jamun tree.

  The monkey was a friendly creature, so when he saw the crocodile he called out to him and said, ‘Mr Crocodile, you have done me great honour by coming to my home. You are my guest, and have come a long way. You must be hungry and thirsty. Since it is my duty to look after you, I shall offer you some of the delicious jamuns that grow on my tree—they are sweet and juicy and will refresh you.’ The monkey picked the best and biggest of the jamuns on his tree and threw them down to the crocodile.

  The crocodile, pleased at the monkey’s hospitality, ate the fruit, and then, his hunger satisfied, sat under the tree chatting with the monkey about this and that till it was time for him to go home. The crocodile had enjoyed the monkey’s company very much, so he now began to visit the monkey daily.

  The two friends would sit together under the shade of the jamun tree and feast on the delicious fruit while chatting happily with each other about matters both great and small. And at the end of every day, the crocodile would bid farewell to the monkey and return home, taking with him some of the leftover fruits for his wife.

  One day, his wife, curious, asked, ‘Beloved husband, where do you find these delicious fruits every day?’

  ‘My dear wife,’ replied the crocodile, ‘my best friend is a monkey called Raktamukha; it is he who, out of his affection for me, gives me these fruits.’

  ‘Imagine how sweet must be the heart of someone who eats such sweet fruits every day,’ said his wife. ‘Husband, if you love me, bring me that monkey’s heart so that I may eat it. His heart will make me young again, and free me from old age and sickness, and I will be able to live with you forever.’

  ‘Oh no, my dearest, I cannot do that,’ objected the crocodile. ‘The monkey is my dearest friend, as close to me as though he were my brother. I cannot kill him. So, please, don’t ask me for his heart.’

  At this his wife’s eyes filled with tears. ‘You don’t love me any more,’ she wept. ‘This monkey has become more important to you than I am.’

  ‘No, my dear, of course not! I love you as much as I have always done,’ protested the poor crocodile.

  ‘Then get me the monkey’s heart, or I will starve myself to death!’ declared his wife.

  The crocodile, who did truly love his wife, grew very worried. ‘What shall I do? I cannot let my wife die, but how can I kill my friend?’ he wondered. He sat for a long time with these anxious thoughts, and then, making up his mind, went to visit his friend.

  The monkey had been waiting for him, and seeing him, called out, ‘What is the matter, my friend? What took you so long today? And why are you looking so sad?’

  ‘My friend,’ replied the crocodile dolefully, ‘my wife, your sister-in-law, scolded me sharply this morning because I have been taking these delicious fruits home every day, but never thought to thank you or invite you for a meal in return. She has ordered me to bring you home today. I was delayed because of this, and now I have come to beg you to come with me today, or else my wife threatens never to speak to me again.’

  ‘Your wife, my sister-in-law, is quite right—good friends must visit each other,’ said the monkey. ‘There is one problem though: your home is in the middle of the ocean, while I, tree-dwelling creature that I am, cannot swim. So how will I get to your house? Instead, why don’t you bring your wife with you the next time you visit me? That way she and I can meet and get to know each other.’

  ‘Our home is on a quiet and sandy beach on the other side of the ocean, and I can carry you there quite easily upon my back,’ replied the crocodile.

  ‘If that is so, then let us go at once,’ said the monkey. ‘See, here I am, already upon your back,’ he cried, as he jumped down from his tree and upon the crocodile’s back.

  The crocodile wasted no more time. He slipped into the ocean with the monkey on his back and began swimming rapidly through the waves. After a while, they had left the shore behind and were surrounded on all sides by the deep blue sea. The monkey grew afraid and said, ‘Friend, slow down! You are swimming so fast that I am quite drenched by the splashing of the waves! If you keep this up, I will drown before we reach your place!’

  At this, the crocodile said to himself, ‘He is now completely within my power. He cannot swim, so there is no way that he can escape. I might as well tell him the truth now so that he has time to pray to his gods before he dies.’ Karalamukha then said to the monkey, ‘Raktamukha, my friend, I am taking you home to kill you, as my dear wife has asked. So say your prayers and prepare to die.’

  The monkey was horrified to hear this. ‘What have I done to offend you or your wife that you should wish to kill me?’ he asked.

  ‘Well, my wife wants to eat your heart, which she believes must be sweeter than the jamun fruit you eat every day. Your heart, she says, will keep her from illness and old age. So, to satisfy her desire, I came up with this plan to trick you.’

  Luckily, the monkey kept his wits about him. ‘Oh, no! Dear friend, why didn’t you tell me this before?’ he exclaimed. ‘You see, I don’t carry my heart about with me, but
keep it in a hollow in the jamun tree. Had you told me that my heart is what you wanted, I would have gladly given it to you. Now here I am, without my heart, and of no use at all to my dear sister-in-law.’

  The crocodile was delighted to hear this—if the monkey’s heart was not in his body, then maybe there was a way to fulfil his wife’s wish without killing the monkey! ‘My dearest friend,’ he cried, ‘if that is the case, please give me your heart and I will give it to my wicked wife so she can eat it and be satisfied. I will take you back this instant to your jamun tree.’ Karalamukha turned around and, swimming as fast as he could, brought the monkey back to his jamun tree.

  The monkey leapt off the crocodile’s back and scampered up the tree, climbing as high as he could, far away from the crocodile’s jaws. ‘Thank the gods that they saved my life,’ he cried in relief. ‘I should never have trusted the crocodile in the first place. It has been rightly said that one should never trust an untrustworthy foe, or even a trusted friend beyond a point, for they are sure to let you down!’

  Meanwhile, the crocodile stood waiting beneath the tree. ‘Friend,’ he called, ‘do give me your heart so that I may take it to my wife and fulfil her evil desire.’

  The monkey laughed scornfully and said, ‘Can anyone separate their hearts from their bodies? You are a fool to have believed me, and a scoundrel to have betrayed our friendship. Go away at once and never come here again! I don’t want to be friends with you any more. After all, it is wisely said that once a friend has become your foe, to trust him again is to ask for certain death!’

  The monkey’s words made the crocodile feel quite foolish. ‘How silly I was to let him know my true intentions,’ he said to himself. ‘I must try and win his friendship back again.’ Calling up to the monkey he said, ‘Dear friend, this was all a joke, to test your real feelings for me. Don’t take it so seriously. What use can my wife have for your heart? She means you no harm, but has prepared a lavish meal and is waiting eagerly for you. Do come home with me, brother. You will be our honoured guest.’

  ‘You rascal! Go away at once. I will never come near you again,’ cried the monkey angrily. ‘After all, it has been said

  What crime will a hungry man not commit?

  The weak can be cruel indeed

  Brother, tell the black serpent

  That I shall never return to the well!’

  ‘And how was that?’ asked the crocodile.

  So the monkey told him the story of the frog king and the serpent.

  The Story of the Frog King and the Serpent

  In a certain well there lived Gangadatta, king of the frogs. One day, fed up of being pestered by his relatives and kinsmen, he decided that he would leave the well. Hopping on to the waterwheel, and jumping from bucket to bucket, he managed to get out of the well. He then began to think, ‘How shall I teach these bothersome relatives of mine a lesson? After all, it is said that a man, if he can pay back in the same coin those who have laughed at him or harmed him in times of trouble, is a man reborn. I must get my own back on my kinsmen.’

  As he sat by the edge of the well, he saw a black serpent slither past and disappear into its den. The serpent was called Priyadarshana. As he sat staring at the snake, a plan formed in Gangadatta’s mind. ‘What if I invite this snake into the well and have him eat up all my annoying relatives? After all, it is always wise to get rid of a powerful enemy by allying with one even more powerful—the snake will destroy my relatives with ease, and I won’t have to lift a finger!’

  Reasoning thus with himself, Gangadatta hopped over to the entrance of the snake’s den and called out, ‘Priyadarshana, come out, come out!’

  The snake hissed warily. ‘Who could be calling me thus?’ he wondered. ‘He is definitely not one of my own kind, for his voice is not that of a snake. And except for other snakes and serpents, I have no family or friends. So who on earth could this be? I must make sure he isn’t an enemy before I leave the safety of my den!’ The snake called out cautiously, ‘Who are you?’

  ‘My name is Gangadatta, and I am the king of the frogs. I have come here to make friends with you!’

  ‘To make friends with me?’ said the snake disbelievingly. ‘Does grass make friends with fire? You do know that I can eat you up in a single swallow, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, yes, you are right,’ said Gangadatta. ‘You are my natural enemy, but it is upon being humiliated and harassed by another enemy that I come to you. I need your help!’

  ‘Who has humiliated and harassed you?’ asked the snake.

  ‘My heirs and kinsmen, they have been making my life a torment,’ replied the frog.

  ‘Where do you live? In a well? A pond? A lake? A stream?’ asked the snake.

  ‘In a well, bounded by a stone wall,’ replied the frog.

  ‘As you might have noticed, we snakes don’t have feet,’ retorted the serpent, ‘and without feet I cannot climb into your well. Assuming, for a moment that I do manage to get in, there will be no space inside for me to live in comfort or hide to kill your kinsmen. So go away, and don’t bother me again.’

  ‘No, no, please listen to me,’ said Gangadatta. ‘I can get you into the well very easily, and inside, just above the waterline, is a dry and comfortable hole you can use for your den and from which you will be able very easily to kill and eat my annoying relatives. Please come with me and see it for yourself.’

  ‘Hmm,’ thought the snake. ‘Maybe I should do as this frog says. After all, I am growing old, and it is becoming more and more difficult to hunt. On good days I can catch a mouse or two, but only with great difficulty. I should not turn down this opportunity for a comfortable life.’ Making up his mind to help the frog, the snake slithered out of his hole and said, ‘If such is the case, then lead the way, Gangadatta! Let’s hurry to your well!’

  The frog was overjoyed, and led the snake to his well. He helped the snake slither into the well by means of the waterwheel, and settled him comfortably into the little hole in the wall just above the water’s surface. ‘Now you must eat only the frogs that have been bothering me, and not my close friends or my wife and children,’ said Gangadatta.

  ‘Oh, do not worry, my friend,’ said the snake. ‘I will eat only those frogs you point out to me.’

  Satisfied, Gangadatta showed him who his troublesome kinsmen were, and, over the next few weeks, Priyadarshana the snake, true to his promise, ate them all up, one by one. When all the annoying relatives had been eaten, the snake turned to the frog and said, ‘My friend, I have done what you asked me to do. Now bring me something more to eat, for it is you who brought me here.’

  ‘You have done what any friend would have done for another, so now I think it is time you go back the way you came,’ replied Gangadatta rudely. ‘So take yourself off, climb out of this well via the waterwheel and go back to your old hole!’

  ‘Now, that’s not very kind of you,’ said the snake. ‘You know I cannot return to my old den—I have been away so long, it must have been taken over by some other creature by now. I am going to stay here, and unless you find me something to eat every day, I will eat up your wife, your children and your friends.’

  Gangadatta grew deeply anxious at the snake’s words. ‘Oh, what have I done, to bring my own enemy into my home? It is truly said that he who seeks to make friends with an enemy more powerful than himself is doomed!’ he lamented. ‘If I want to save my family and dearest friends, I must do as the snake says! It is better that he eats some of the other frogs, even if they have never done me any harm, than that he eats my wife and children!’ Thus convincing himself that his wisest course of action was to give in to the snake’s demands, Gangadatta gave him one frog every day to eat.

  The snake would eat the frog that Gangadatta brought to him and also snatch up a few more when Gangadatta wasn’t looking. One day he gobbled up Gangadatta’s son, Yamunadatta, along with a few other frogs.

  When Gangadatta realized that his son had been eaten, he began to weep and wa
il, cursing himself for his foolishness. ‘Stop this wailing!’ cried his wife. ‘What is the use of crying now, after our son is dead? You have, by your actions, caused the death and destruction of our entire clan. So now, when your own family is being eaten up, why do you scream and cry? If you have any sense, you will think instead of a way to kill this foul serpent and escape from here.’

  In a few short days, the serpent had eaten up all the frogs in the well. Only Gangadatta himself remained. ‘I am very hungry,’ declared the snake to Gangadatta. ‘You must get me something to eat, because, do not forget, you are the one who invited me here in the first place.’

  ‘Friend, do not worry. As long as I am alive, I will make sure that you are well fed. If you give me permission, I will climb out of this well and go to another one and bring more frogs here to you.’

  ‘Now that is an excellent idea,’ agreed the snake. ‘You have become like a brother to me, so I cannot eat you. Therefore hurry, bring me these other frogs, so that I may satisfy my hunger.’

  Gangadatta wasted no more time, but hopped nimbly out of the well. Of course, he had no intention of returning.

  Meanwhile, the snake waited patiently in the well for Gangadatta to return with more frogs. After a day had passed and Gangadatta had still not come back, he turned to the lizard who lived in another hole in the well and said, ‘Brother, you run about everywhere. Please help me. You have known Gangadatta the frog all his life. Please find him and tell him that I am waiting for him. He should return home at once, even if he cannot find any more frogs. I cannot bear to be without him any more. Tell him, too, that I will never harm him, I swear upon all the gods.’