In the meanwhile the king of the pigeons, named Chitragriva, as he was roaming through the air, attended by hundreds of pigeons, came there, and seeing the grains of rice scattered on the ground, he alighted on the net out of desire for food, and got caught in the meshes with all his attendants. When Chitragriva saw that, he said to all his followers; "Take the net in your beaks, and fly up into the air as fast as you can." All the terrified pigeons said,--"So be it"--and taking the net, they flew up swiftly, and began to travel through the air. The fowler too rose up, and with eye fixed upwards, returned despondent. Then Chitragriva, being relieved from his fear, said to his followers; "Let us quickly go to my friend the mouse Hiranya, he will gnaw these meshes asunder and set us at liberty." With these words he went on with those pigeons, who were dragging the net along with them, and descended from the air at the entrance of a mouse's hole. And there the king of the pigeons called the mouse, saying,--"Hiranya, come out, I, Chitragriva, have arrived." And when the mouse heard through the entrance, and saw that his friend had come, he came out from that hole with a hundred openings. The mouse went up to him, and when he had heard what had taken place, proceeded with the utmost eagerness to gnaw asunder the meshes, that kept the pigeon-king and his retinue prisoners. And when he had gnawed the meshes asunder, Chitragriva took leave of him with kind words, and flew up into the air with his companions.

And when the crow, who had followed the pigeons, saw that, he came to the entrance of the hole, and said to the mouse who had re-entered it; "I am Laghupatin, a crow; seeing that you tender your friends dearly, I choose you for my friend, as you are a creature capable of delivering from such calamities." When the mouse saw that crow from the inside of his hole, he said, "Depart! what friendship can there be between the eater and his prey?" Then the crow said,--"G.o.d forbid! If I were to eat you, my hunger might be satisfied for a moment, but if I make you my friend, my life will be always preserved by you." When the crow had said this, and more, and had taken an oath, and so inspired confidence in the mouse, the mouse came out, and the crow made friends with him. The mouse brought out pieces of flesh and grains of rice, and there they both remained eating together in great happiness.

And one day the crow said to his friend the mouse: "At a considerable distance from this place there is a river in the middle of a forest, and in it there lives a tortoise named Mantharaka, who is a friend of mine; for his sake I will go to that place where flesh and other food is easily obtained; it is difficult for me to obtain sustenance here, and I am in continual dread of the fowler." When the crow said this to him, the mouse answered,--"Then we will live together, take me there also; for I too have an annoyance here, and when we get there, I will explain the whole matter to you." When Hiranya said this, Laghupatin took him in his beak, and flew to the bank of that forest stream. And there he found his friend, the tortoise Mantharaka, who welcomed him, and he and the mouse sat with him. And after they had conversed a little, that crow told the tortoise the cause of his coming, together with the circ.u.mstance of his having made friends with Hiranya. Then the tortoise adopted the mouse, as his friend on an equal footing with the crow, and asked the cause of the annoyance which drove him from his native place. Then Hiranya gave this account of his experiences in the hearing of the crow and the tortoise.

Story of the Mouse and the Hermit. [59]

I lived in a great hole near the city, and one night I stole a necklace from the palace, and laid it up in my hole. And by looking at that necklace I acquired strength, [60] and a number of mice attached themselves to me, as being able to steal food for them. In the meanwhile a hermit had made a cell near my hole, and he lived on a large stock of food, which he obtained by begging. Every evening he used to put the food, which remained over after he had eaten, in his beggar's porringer on an inaccessible peg, meaning to eat it the next day. [61] And, every night, when he was asleep, I entered by a hole, and jumping up, carried it off.

Once on a time, another hermit, a friend of his, came there, and after eating, conversed with him during the night. And I was at that time attempting to carry off the food, so the first hermit, who was listening, made the pot resound frequently by striking it with a piece of split cane. And the hermit, who was his guest, said, "Why do you interrupt our conversation to do this?" Whereupon the hermit to whom the cell belonged, answered him, "I have got an enemy here in the form of this mouse, who is always jumping up and carrying off this food of mine, though it is high up. I am trying to frighten him by moving the pot of food with a piece of cane." When he said this, the other hermit said to him, "In truth this covetousness is the bane of creatures, hear a story ill.u.s.trative of this."

Story of the Brahman's wife and the sesame-seeds. [62]

Once on a time, as I was wandering from one sacred bathing-place to another, I reached a town, and there I entered the house of a certain Brahman to stay. And while I was there, the Brahman said to his wife, "Cook to-day, as it is the change of the moon, a dish composed of milk, sesame, and rice, for the Brahmans." She answered him, "How can a pauper, like you, afford this?" Then the Brahman said to her, "My dear, though we should h.o.a.rd, we should not direct our thoughts to excessive h.o.a.rding--hear this tale."

Story of the greedy Jackal. [63]

In a certain forest a hunter, after he had been hunting, fixed an arrow in a self-acting bow, [64] and after placing flesh on it, pursued a wild boar. He pierced the wild boar with a dart, but was mortally wounded by his tusks, and died; and a jackal beheld all this from a distance. So he came, but though he was hungry, he would not eat any of the abundant flesh of the hunter and the boar, wishing to h.o.a.rd it up. But he went first to eat what had been placed on the bow, and that moment the arrow fixed in it flew up, and pierced him so that he died.

"So you must not indulge in excessive h.o.a.rding." When the Brahman said this, his wife consented, and placed some sesame-seeds in the sun. And while she went into the house, a dog tasted them and defiled them, so n.o.body would buy that dish of sesame-seeds and rice. [65]

"So, you see, covetousness does not give pleasure, it only causes annoyance to those who cherish it." When the hermit, who was a visitor, had said this, he went on to say; "If you have a spade, give it me, in order that I may take steps to put a stop to this annoyance caused by the mouse." Thereupon the hermit, to whom the cell belonged, gave the visitor a spade, and I, who saw it all from my place of concealment, entered my hole. Then the cunning hermit, who had come to visit the other, discovering the hole by which I entered, began to dig. And while I retired further and further in, he went on digging, until at last he reached the necklace and the rest of my stores. And he said to the hermit, who resided there, in my hearing, "It was by the power of this necklace that the mouse had such strength." So they took away all my wealth and placed the necklace on their necks, and then the master of the cell and the visitor went to sleep with light hearts. But when they were asleep, I came again to steal, and the resident hermit woke up and hit me with a stick on the head. That wounded me, but, as it chanced, did not kill me, and I returned to my hole. But after that, I had never strength to make the bound necessary for stealing the food. For wealth is youth to creatures, and the want of it produces old age; owing to the want of it, spirit, might, beauty, and enterprise fail. So all my retinue of mice, seeing that I had become intent on feeding myself only, left me. Servants leave a master who does not support them, bees a tree without flowers, swans a tank without water, in spite of long a.s.sociation.

"So I have been long in a state of despondency, but now, having obtained this Laghupatin for a friend, I have come here to visit you, n.o.ble tortoise." When Hiranya had said this, the tortoise Manthara answered--"This is a home to you; so do not be despondent, my friend. To a virtuous man no country is foreign; a man who is content cannot be unhappy; for the man of endurance calamity does not exist; there is nothing impossible to the enterprising." While the tortoise was saying this, a deer, named Chitranga, came to that wood from a great distance, having been terrified by the hunters. When they saw him, and observed that no hunter was pursuing him, the tortoise and his companions made friends with him, and he recovered his strength and spirits. And those four, the crow, the tortoise, the mouse, and the deer, long lived there happily as friends, engaged in reciprocal courtesies.

One day Chitranga was behind time, and Laghupatin flew to the top of a tree to look for him, and surveyed the whole wood. And he saw Chitranga on the bank of the river, entangled in the fatal noose, and then he came down and told this to the mouse and the tortoise. Then they deliberated together, and Laghupatin took up the mouse in his beak, and carried him to Chitranga. And the mouse Hiranya comforted the deer, who was distressed at being caught, and in a moment set him at liberty by gnawing his bonds asunder. [66] In the meanwhile the tortoise Manthara, who was devoted to his friends, came up the bank near them, having travelled along the bed of the river. At that very moment the hunter, who had set the noose, arrived from somewhere or other, and when the deer and the others escaped, caught and made prize of the tortoise. And he put it in a net, and went off, grieved at having lost the deer. In the meanwhile the friends saw what had taken place, and by the advice of the far-seeing mouse, the deer went a considerable distance off, and fell down as if he were dead. [67]

And the crow stood upon his head, and pretended to peck his eyes. When the hunter saw that, he imagined that he had captured the deer, as it was dead, and he began to make for it, after putting down the tortoise on the bank of the river. When the mouse saw him making towards the deer, he came up, and gnawed a hole in the net which held the tortoise, so the tortoise was set at liberty, and he plunged into the river. And when the deer saw the hunter coming near, without the tortoise, he got up, and ran off, and the crow, for his part, flew up a tree. Then the hunter came back, and finding that the tortoise had escaped by the net's having been gnawed asunder, he returned home, lamenting that the tortoise had fled and could not be recovered.

Then the four friends came together again in high spirits, and the gratified deer addressed the three others as follows; "I am fortunate in having obtained you for friends, for you have to-day delivered me from death at the risk of your lives." In such words the deer praised the crow and the tortoise and the mouse, and they all lived together delighting in their mutual friendship.

Thus, you see, even animals attain their ends by wisdom, and they risk their lives sooner than abandon their friends in calamity. So full of love is the attachment that subsists among friends; but attachment to women is not approved because it is open to jealousy; hear a story in proof of this.

Story of the wife who falsely accused her husband of murdering a Bhilla. [68]

There lived once on a time in a certain town a jealous husband, who had for wife a beautiful woman, whom he loved exceedingly. But being suspicious he never left her alone, for he feared that she might be seduced even by men in pictures. However, one day he had to go to another country on unavoidable business, and he took his wife with him. And seeing that a forest inhabited by Bhillas lay in his way, he left his wife in the house of an old Brahman villager, and proceeded on his journey. But, while she was there, she saw some Bhillas, who had come that way, and she eloped with a young Bhilla whom she saw. And she went with him to his village, [69] following her inclinations, having escaped from her jealous husband, as a river that has broken a dam.

In the meanwhile her husband finished his business, and returned, and asked the Brahman villager for his wife, and the Brahman answered him, "I do not know where she has gone; so much only I know, that some Bhillas came here: she must have been carried off by them. And their village is near here, go there quickly, you will find your wife there, without doubt." When the Brahman told him this, he wept, and blamed his own folly, and went to that village of Bhillas, and there he saw his wife. When the wicked woman saw him, she approached him in fear and said, "It is not my fault, the Bhilla brought me here by force." Her husband, blind with love, said, "Come along, let us return home, before any one discovers us." But she said to him, "Now is the time when the Bhilla returns from hunting; when he returns he will certainly pursue you and me, and kill us both. So enter this cavern at present, and remain concealed. But at night we will kill him when he is asleep, and leave this place in perfect safety." When the wicked woman said this to him, he entered the cave; what room is there for discernment in the heart of one blinded with love?

The Bhilla returned at the close of the day, and that wicked woman shewed him her husband in the cave, whom his pa.s.sion had enabled her to decoy there. And the Bhilla, who was a strong man, and cruel, dragged out the husband, and tied him firmly to a tree, in order that he might next day offer him to Bhavani.

And he ate his dinner, and at night lay down to sleep by the side of the faithless wife, before the eyes of the husband. Then that jealous husband, who was tied to the tree, seeing him asleep, implored Bhavani to help him in his need, praising her with hymns. She appeared and granted him a boon, so that he escaped from his bonds, and cut off the head of the Bhilla with his own sword. Then he woke up his wife, and said to her: "Come, I have killed this villain," and she rose up much grieved. And the faithless woman set out at night with her husband, but she secretly took with her the head of the Bhilla. And the next morning, when they reached a town, she shewed the head, and laying hands upon her husband, cried out, "This man has killed my husband." Then the city police took her with her husband before the king. And the jealous husband, being questioned, told the whole story. Then the king enquired into it, and finding that it was true, he ordered the ears and nose of that faithless wife to be cut off, and set her husband at liberty. And he went home freed from the demon of love for a wicked woman.

"This, prince, is how a woman behaves when over-jealously watched, for the jealousy of the husband teaches the wife to run after other men. So a wise man should guard his wife without shewing jealousy. And a man must by no means reveal a secret to a woman, if he desires prosperity. Hear a story shewing this."

Story of the snake who told his secret to a woman.

A certain snake, [70] out of fear of Garuda, fled to earth, and taking the form of a man, concealed himself in the house of a hetaera. And that hetaera used to take as payment five hundred elephants; [71]

and the snake by his power gave her five hundred every day. And the lady importuned him to tell her how he acquired so many elephants every day, and who he was. And he, blinded with love, replied--"I am a snake hiding here from fear of Garuda, do not tell any one." But the hetaera privately told all this to the kuttini.

Now Garuda, searching through the world for the snake, came there in the form of a man, and he came to the kuttini and said; "I wish to remain to-day in your daughter's house, take my payment." And the kuttini said to him, "There is a snake living here, who gives us five hundred elephants every day. What do we care about one day's pay?" Then Garuda, finding out that the snake was living there, entered as a guest that hetaera's house. And there he saw the snake on the flat roof, and revealing himself in his real form, he swooped down, and killed him, and ate him.

"So a wise man should not recklessly tell secrets to women." Having said this, Gomukha told him another story of a simpleton.

Story of the bald man and the hair-restorer.

There was a bald man, with a head like a copper pot. And he, being a fool, was ashamed because, though a rich man in the world, he had no hair on his head. Then a rogue, who lived upon others, came to him and said, "There is a physician who knows a drug that will produce hair." When he heard it, he said;--"If you bring him to me, I will give wealth to you and to that physician also." When he said this, the rogue for a long time devoured his substance, and brought to that simpleton a doctor who was a rogue also. And after the doctor too had long lived at his expense, he one day removed his head-dress designedly, and shewed him his bald head. In spite of that, the blockhead, without considering, asked him for a drug which would produce hair, then the physician said to him,--"Since I am bald myself, how can I produce hair in others? It was in order to explain this to you, that I showed you my bald head. But out on you! you do not understand even now." With these words the physician went away.

"So you see, prince, rogues perpetually make sport of fools. You have heard the story of the simpleton and his hair, now hear that of the simpleton and the oil."

Story of a foolish servant.

A certain gentleman had a simpleton for a servant. His master sent him once to fetch oil from a merchant, and he received from him the oil in a vessel. And as he was returning, with the vessel in his hand, a friend of his said to him,--"Take care of this oil-vessel, it leaks at the bottom." When the blockhead heard this, he turned the vessel upside down to look at the bottom of it, and that made all the oil fall on the ground. When his master heard that, he turned out of his house that fool, who was the laughing-stock of the place.

"So it is better for a simpleton to rely upon his own sense, and not to take advice. You have heard about the simpleton and the oil, now hear the story of the simpleton and the bones."

Story of the faithless wife who was present at her own Sraddha. [72]

There was once a foolish man, and he had an unchaste wife. Once on a time, when her husband had gone away for some business to another country, she placed in charge of the house a confidential servant of hers, a truly unique maid, after giving her instructions as to what she was to do, and went away alone to the house of her paramour, intent on enjoying herself without being interfered with. When the lady's husband returned, the maid, who had been well schooled beforehand, said with a voice choked with tears: "Your wife is dead and burnt." She then took him to the burning-ghaut, and shewed him the bones belonging to the pyre of some other person; the fool brought them home with tears, and after bathing at the sacred bathing-places, and strewing her bones there, he proceeded to perform her sraddha. And he made his wife's paramour the officiating Brahman at the ceremony, as the maid brought him, saying that he was an excellent Brahman. And every month his wife came with that Brahman, splendidly dressed, and ate the sweetmeats. And then the maid said to him, "See, master, by virtue of her chast.i.ty your wife is enabled to return from the other world, and eat with the Brahman." And the matchless fool believed most implicitly what she said.

"In this way people of simple dispositions are easily imposed upon by wicked women. You have heard about the simpleton and the bones; now hear the story of the Chandala maiden."

Story of the ambitious Chandala maiden.

There was once a simple but good-looking Chandala maiden. And she formed in her heart the determination to win for her bridegroom a universal monarch. Once on a time, she saw the supreme sovereign go out to make a progress round his city, and she proceeded to follow him, with the intention of making him her husband. At that moment a hermit came that way; and the king, though mounted on an elephant, bowed at his feet, and returned to his own palace. When she saw that, she thought that the hermit was a greater man even than the king, and abandoning him, she proceeded to follow the hermit. The hermit, as he was going along, beheld in front of him an empty temple of Siva, and kneeling on the ground, he worshipped Siva, and then departed. Then the Chandala maiden thought that Siva was greater even than the hermit, and she left the hermit, and attached herself to the G.o.d, with the intention of marrying him. Immediately a dog entered, and going up on to the pedestal of the idol, lifted up his leg, and behaved after the manner of the dog tribe. Then the Chandala maiden thought that the dog was superior even to Siva, and leaving the G.o.d, followed the departing dog, desiring to marry him. And the dog entered the house of a Chandala, and out of affection rolled at the feet of a young Chandala whom it knew. When she saw that, she concluded that the young Chandala was superior to the dog, and satisfied with her own caste, she chose him as her husband.

"So fools, after aspiring high, fall into their proper place. And now hear in a few words the tale of the foolish king."

Story of the miserly king.