The Demon at Agi Bridge and Other Japanese Tales (Translations from the Asian Classics)

by Philip K. Dick

  The sparrow looked closely at the old woman’s face, and then it dropped something from its beak that resembled a drop of dew. Then it flew away. “What could it be—this thing the sparrow’s left?” she said. And when she looked, she found that it had dropped a single gourd seed. “If the bird has brought it, there must be a reason,” she thought, and she carefully picked up the seed. “Of all things!” said her children, laughing. “She treats the seed the sparrow brought as though it were some kind of treasure!” “Never mind,” said the old woman. “I’ll just try planting it.”

  So she planted it, and by the time autumn came, it had grown into a big flourishing plant, not at all like an ordinary gourd vine, and it bore lots of large fruit. The old woman was delighted and shared the gourds with her neighbors in the village. But as many as she picked from the vine, there were always plenty left. Even her children and grandchildren, who had laughed at her before, ate them from morning to night. She handed them out to the whole village, and in the end she set aside seven or eight of the largest and finest ones to use as containers, hanging them up in her house.

  After a few months, she said, “They must be dry by now,” and, examining them, she found that they were. But when she took one of them down and prepared to cut off the top, the gourd seemed rather heavy. Wondering at this, she cut it open and saw that it was full of something. “What could it be?” she thought, and, pouring out the contents, she discovered that the gourd was full of polished rice. Surprised at this unexpected discovery, she tried to empty the entire contents into another container, yet the gourd remained as full as it had been before. “There’s something strange here—it must be the sparrow’s doing!” she exclaimed, both puzzled and delighted. She put the rice from the first gourd in containers and stored it, and when she examined the other gourds, she found that they, too, were full of rice.

  She kept pouring the rice into containers and using it up, but it always remained as plentiful as before. As a result, in time she became very wealthy, and her neighbors in the village eyed her with wonder and envy.

  There was another old woman living next door to the first one, and her children said, “Both are old women, but the one next door gets rich, while ours does nothing at all for us!” The second old woman went to the woman next door. “Well, now, how are things with you? I’ve heard something about this sparrow affair, but I don’t know the details. Tell me the whole story.”

  “The sparrow brought a gourd seed and I tried planting it,” said the first old woman, but she did not elaborate. “Come now, tell me exactly what happened!” demanded the second old woman. The first old woman thought it wouldn’t be right to be secretive and hide anything, and so she said, “The sparrow happened to get its back broken, and I nursed it back to health. It was grateful for that and brought me a gourd seed. I planted the seed and this is what happened.”

  “Just give me one of those seeds,” said the second old woman. “I’ll give you as much of the rice from the gourds as you like,” the first old woman replied. “But I can’t give you any seeds. It wouldn’t be right to scatter them around.”

  Unable to get any seeds, the second old woman thought, “Then I’ll find a sparrow with a broken back and nurse it back to health!” But although she looked everywhere, she couldn’t find a sparrow that had a broken back.

  Each morning on the lookout, she one day saw some sparrows hopping around her back garden and eating rice that had been spilled there. She picked up several stones and, thinking that she might just manage a hit, threw them one after another into the crowd of sparrows. One of the sparrows was in fact struck and could not fly away. The old woman, delighted, came closer and hit it again to make certain its back was broken. After that, she fed it, gave it some medicine, and looked after it.

  “If so much good fortune comes from just one bird,” she thought, “think how much I’ll get if I look out for a number of them! I’ll be even better off than the woman next door, and my children will sing my praises!” So she scattered rice around her garden and waited, and when a number of sparrows appeared, she threw one stone after another and succeeded in hitting three of them. “That’s enough for now,” she thought, and put the three sparrows with broken backs into a pail and fed them copper shavings. After a few months, all of them had recovered from their injuries. Delighted, the old woman took them outside and let them loose, and they fluttered their wings and flew away. “There,” thought the old woman, “I’ve done a marvelous thing!” But the sparrows, having had their backs broken and been penned up for so many months, were seething with hatred.

  When ten days had passed, the three sparrows came again. The old woman, overjoyed, looked first to see if they had anything in their beaks. Each, in fact, had a single gourd seed, which it dropped and then flew away. “Here we go!” thought the old woman delightedly, and she planted the three seeds. They sprouted, grew much better than ordinary plants, and soon were very large. But they did not produce many gourds—only seven or eight. The old woman, observing them with a smile, said to her children, “I didn’t say I could do anything wonderful, but at least I’ve outdone the woman next door!” “We hope so,” thought her children.

  Because the gourds were so few in number, she wanted to get as much rice as possible from them. So she did not give any of the gourds to others or eat any of them herself. Her children said, “The old woman next door gave gourds to the neighbors and fed them to her own family. And you have three gourd vines. You ought to be able to feed your own family and others as well.” “All right, I’ll feed the neighbors, and my children and I will eat our fill!” thought the old woman. Accordingly, she cooked a number of gourds. But when people tried to eat them, they found them horribly bitter, with a taste like kihada that made them nauseated.6 Everyone who ate them—the old woman’s children, the old woman herself—got sick and threw up. The neighbors, too, sickened and in misery, flocked around in anger. “What’s this you’ve given us to eat?” they said. “It’s horrible! Even those who only get close enough to sniff the odor when it’s cooking throw up and act as though they’re dying!” But by this time, the old woman, along with her children, were sprawled on the ground, so nauseated that they hardly knew what was happening. With nowhere to deliver their complaints, the neighbors returned home.

  By the time two or three days had passed, everyone had recovered from the ill effects of the gourds. The old woman thought to herself, “It’s because we supposed that the ingredients in the gourds had already turned to rice and ate it too quickly that we met with this peculiar outcome!” Accordingly, she picked the rest of the gourds and set them aside.

  After a few months had passed, she said, “They must be ready by now,” and she brought some pails to the room, intending to empty the contents of the gourds into them. Then, her toothless old mouth opened in a grin of delight so broad that it reached to her ears, laughing to herself, she set about to empty the gourds into the pails. But instead of rice, out of the gourds came horseflies, hornets, centipedes, lizards, and vipers. They not only attacked her eyes and nose, but stung her all over her body. The old woman, however, was not aware of the pain. Her only worry was that some of the rice would get spilled. “Wait a moment, you sparrows!” she said. “Let me have it a little bit at a time!”

  Out of the seven or eight gourds came so many poisonous creatures that they stung the old woman’s children all over, and in fact stung the old woman to death. The sparrows, deeply resentful at having had their backs broken, had summoned these countless noxious creatures and filled the gourds with them.

  The sparrow rescued by the woman next door, by contrast, had already had its back broken and was about to be killed by crows. And because the old woman nursed it back to health, it felt great gratitude. So we know that it does not do to be envious of the good fortune of others.

  How a Man Received a Bounty After a Period of Prayer at the Hase Temple (96)

  Long ago, there was a young samurai of low status who was all alone in the
world, with no father or mother, no lord to serve under, no wife or children. Having no one at all to turn to, he made a pilgrimage to Hase Temple and, throwing himself down before the statue, said, “Kannon, please help me! If it is my fate to suffer in this world like this, then let me die of starvation here before you. And if by chance there is some way I can escape that end, then I will not leave here until it has been revealed to me in a dream.”7

  Seeing him prostrate before the statue, the priests of the temple said, “Who are you, behaving in a fashion like this? You do not seem to be eating anything, and if you go on lying here, your death will ritually pollute the temple, a very serious matter. Who is your teacher in the faith? Who is responsible for feeding you?” But to their queries, he only replied, “How could a destitute person like myself have a teacher? I have no one to feed me, and if no one will have pity and give me something to eat, I must rely on what the Buddha gives me and make the Buddha my teacher.”

  The priests of the temple gathered around. “This is a grave matter,” they said, “and likely to cause the temple much trouble. This man is trying to lay the blame for his misfortunes on Kannon. We had better see to his feeding ourselves!” So they took turns bringing him something to eat, and as a result he was able to remain in his place before the statue for a period of twenty-one days.

  On the night when the twenty-one-day period was coming to an end, the man dreamed that a figure emerged from the curtains hanging before the statue and said, “Young man, you fail to realize that your plight is due to misdeeds in a previous existence and are trying to shift the blame to Kannon, a very unreasonable procedure. However, because your pleas are pitiful in nature, a certain amount of leeway has been granted you. Now listen—you must leave here immediately. And when you leave, whatever you happen to touch, no matter what it may be, you must not throw it away but keep it in your hand and hurry on your way!” The figure then made as though to drive him away. The man accordingly got up from his prostrate position, went to the priests who had been feeding him, begged some food from them, and left the temple. As he was going out the main gate, he stumbled and fell to the ground.

  When he got to his feet again, he found that he was holding in his hand a single stamen from a rice plant, though he could not remember having picked it up. “Is this what the Buddha gives me?” he wondered, regarding it with disappointment and disdain. “Still,” he thought, “it may be part of some plan the Buddha has for me,” and he twirled it in his fingers as he walked along. Just then, a horsefly began to buzz noisily around his face. Annoyed, he broke off a little branch of a tree and tried to use it to drive away the fly. But the fly kept up its bothersome buzzing until he seized it, wrapped the rice straw around its middle, and fastened the straw to the end of the branch. The fly, unable to escape, flew in circles around the branch.

  Just then a woman’s oxcart appeared, on its way on a pilgrimage to Hase Temple, with a little boy peering out from the rear curtains, a charming sight. “What is that thing that man is carrying?” the boy said to the samurai who, mounted on a horse, was accompanying the oxcart. “I want one like that!” The samurai, addressing the poor man, said, “Our young master wants that thing you are carrying in your hand.” “This is a gift from the Buddha,” replied the poor man. “However, if you really want it, I will heed your request,” and he handed it over. “You are very accommodating—surrendering in this way what our young master has asked for,” said the samurai. Then he took three large mandarin oranges, wrapped them in expensive paper from Michinoku Province, and handed them to the poor man. “Eat these when you feel thirsty,” he said.

  “For one wisp of rice straw I got three mandarin oranges!” thought the man, and, fastening the oranges to a stick, he slung them over his shoulder and resumed his walk. As he did so, he saw a woman, apparently of high birth, who was walking on foot, accompanied by a number of samurai and other attendants.8 She seemed to be having great trouble walking and to be on the verge of collapse. “I’m so thirsty—give me water!” she said, as though about to faint away. Her attendants, much flustered, looked around frantically for water but could find none. “What shall I do? Isn’t there water with the horses we brought from the inn?” she asked. “But the horses are far behind—not even in sight,” her people replied. The whole company seemed to be completely at a loss as to what to do.

  Seeing that they were distressed because of the woman’s thirst, the poor man approached in a tentative manner. “This man must know where there’s water!” they said. “Is there anywhere close by with drinking water?” “There’s no drinking water within miles of here. Why do you ask?” said the poor man. “This woman is worn out from walking. She’s thirsty and needs water. If we can’t find any water it will be a serious matter—that’s why we ask,” they replied.

  “That’s a pity,” said the poor man. “The only water is a long way away, and it would take time to fetch it. But how would these do?” and he offered them the three mandarin oranges wrapped in paper.

  Delighted at this, the attendants hurried to feed the oranges to the woman. When they had done so, after a time she opened her eyes. “What happened?” she said. “You were thirsty and kept asking for water,” her attendants said, “and then you lost consciousness. We tried to find some water, but there was no drinking water to be had. Then a certain man, seeing what the trouble was, quite unexpectedly presented us with three mandarin oranges, which we gave you to eat.”

  “So I was very thirsty, and then I lost consciousness. I recall begging for water, but I cannot remember anything after that. If I had not gotten the oranges, I probably would have died here in the wilds. How grateful I am to that man! Is he still around?” she asked. “He’s right here,” they replied. “Tell him not to go away,” she said. “Whatever blessings I might have hoped for from my pilgrimage, if I had died here, it would all have been in vain. We must think of some way to repay the man. What can we do when we are on a journey like this? Does he seem to have anything to eat? If not, give him some food.”

  “You there,” said the attendants. “Wait a bit. The horses from the inn will soon be here, and then we will give you something to eat.” “Whatever you say,” the man replied, and after a while the horses from the inn and those carrying the baggage arrived.

  “Why were the horses so far behind?” the attendants grumbled. “The horses from the inn should always go ahead. We may suddenly need something they are carrying, and what can we do if they’re so far behind?” In time, they managed to put up the hangings and spread out the sitting mats. “The water is still some way off, but you must be tired, so we will serve you something to eat here,” said the attendants as they went to fetch water and prepared the food to be served. The poor man, as he ate his fill of the splendid meal, thought to himself, “What will they do about the oranges? I came into possession of them as part of Kannon’s plan, so this can hardly be the end of the affair.” As he was thinking this, the woman brought out three bolts of fine white cloth and said, “Give these to the man. I cannot thank him enough for the gift of the oranges, but as we are now on a journey, I have no way to express my true gratitude. He must look on these as no more than a mere token of my thanks. My home in the capital is at such-and-such a place. He should by all means call on me there, and I will reward him properly for the oranges.” Presented with three bolts of cloth, the man accepted them with delight. “For one wisp of rice straw I now acquire three bolts of cloth!” he thought as he put them under his arm and started on his way. The day was coming to a close as he did so.

  He found lodging that night in a house by the road, and the next morning was up with the birds and on his way. After the sun came up, at the Hour of the Dragon or around eight,9 a man came along riding on a horse of superlative quality. Taking care to spare the horse, he was not galloping but proceeding at a leisurely gait. The poor man, looking at the horse, thought, “What a splendid animal! It must be worth thousands of strings of coins!” Just then, the horse suddenly fell o
ver dead. The rider, dumbfounded at what had happened, managed to dismount and get to his feet. His attendants, likewise taken completely by surprise, came forward to remove the saddle. “What shall we do?” they exclaimed, but as the horse was already dead, there was nothing they could do but stand around helpless, clapping their hands in despair. The rider of the dead horse, since he had no other choice, mounted another beast of greatly inferior quality.

  As he was about to leave, he said to one of his lackeys, “There’s no point in my remaining, so I’m on my way. Just see that the horse is somehow moved out of sight,” and he rode off. Observing this, the poor man thought, “I wonder if this horse didn’t die so it could come into my hands? One wisp of straw turned into three oranges. Three oranges turned into three bolts of cloth. Surely now the cloth will bring me a horse!” Approaching closer, he said to the lackey, “What sort of horse is this?” “It came from the province of Michinoku,” the lackey replied. “Any number of people were eager to have it, offering to buy it at whatever price. But my master wouldn’t think of letting it go. Now that it’s dead, though, it wouldn’t fetch a fraction of the sums they offered! I’d like to at least flay it for the hide, but what would I do with it while I’m on the road? So I just stand here staring at the corpse.”

  “Exactly what I was thinking,” said the poor man. “I can see that it’s a splendid horse, but now, alas, it’s dead. That’s the fate that awaits all living creatures. And since you are on a journey, how in the world would you find any way to dry and cure the hide? I live nearby, so perhaps you would give me permission to flay it and make use of the hide.” And as he said this, he held out a bolt of cloth as payment. The lackey, surprised to find that he could actually profit from the transaction, accepted the cloth, afraid only that the man would change his mind, and, without once looking back, hurried on his way.