0200. Gautama the Ungrateful

From Indian Fables and Folklore by Shovona Devi, online at: Hathi Trust.

Notes. You can read a long version of this story in the Mahabharata. The crane in the story is a "prince of cranes" by the name of Rajadharman, and Virupaksha is a king of the rakshasas.

Summary: An ungrateful brahmin wrongs the bird who was his benefactor.

GAUTAMA THE UNGRATEFUL

(Crane, circa 1770)

Gautama was a Brahmin reduced to such straits that he used to beg for his meals. One day he met with a stranger and said to him, holding out his right hand with the sacred thread wound round the thumb, "O give me alms in exchange for a Brahmin’s blessing."

The stranger thus accosted was a robber, on his way to steal and murder; so for good luck he offered the Brahmin a coin, instead of robbing him as he had half a mind to do.

"Are you not ashamed to beg, O Brahmin?" said the robber to Gautama, without revealing who he was. "Come with me, and I will see to it that you lack for nothing."

Gautama followed him to his village and lived with him, and in time became a robber himself. For his meals he used to snare birds and kill animals and indulge in all manner of cruelty, hateful to the creed of the true Brahmin.

It so fell out that one day, while he was returning home with a number of bleeding birds tied together by the legs and flung over his shoulder, he met with a Brahmin acquaintance of his.

"Can it be Gautama?" cried the Brahmin, surprised and shocked at his appearance. "What a fall for a Brahmin."

The friends talked together for some time, and Gautama told him the whole story before they parted. The sight of a fellow-Brahmin filled Gautama with a yearning to revisit his own home and people, so he left the village of the robbers secretly by night.

On and on he walked until, wearied out, he lay down under a tree and fell asleep.

In the tree there lived a Crane. Seeing a stranger trusting the hospitality of its tree, it lit fires to frighten off the wild beasts, and itself stood by him, guarding him against harm.

Gautama got up early next morning and was about to resume his journey when the bird thus said to him, "O Brahmin, I must not let you go empty-handed. You must call on my friend Viru-Paksha. He will give you as much gold as you can carry."

Gladly the Brahmin visited Viru-Paksha, and received, even as the bird had told him, a bag full of gold coins. Flinging the bag over his shoulder he trudged along, almost bent down by the weight of the gold. He reached the same tree and lay down beneath it to rest for the night. The bird again came down from the tree, lit fires around, and stood guard over its guest.

Gautama was awake, but pretended to be asleep, and thus thought to himself, "I have still a long distance to go, but have no food with me to eat on the way. It would be wise to kill and roast the bird over the fire, and carry it with me."

Following this wicked resolve, the ungrateful Brahmin wrenched off the head of the Crane, plucked out its feathers, and roasted it over the fire, and then went on his way.

Next morning Viru-paksha waited long for his friend the Crane, but he did not appear, so he sent a messenger to enquire the cause of the delay. When the messenger reached the tree, what should he see but strewn feathers and stains of blood upon the ground beneath. Alas, the poor bird had been murdered!

There, plain enough on the ground, were the footmarks of its murderer.

These he followed up, step by step, until at last he came upon Gautama, whom he seized by the arm, saying, "It was you who slew the pious Crane." For further proof the body of the Crane was found on the Brahmin’s person.

Gautama was taken before Viru-Paksha with the evidence of his crime still fresh upon him. Viru-Paksha ordered the wicked murderer of his friend to be cut to pieces and cast to the dogs and vultures.

Thus died Gautama the Ungrateful, and pieces of his flesh were thrown to the vultures.

"O Vultures! O Vultures!" cried the Executioner; "here is the flesh
of an ungrateful wretch for you to eat."

"We eat not the flesh of the Ungrateful, O Executioner!" replied the vultures.

Next he threw the flesh to the dogs and jackals. "O Dogs and Jackals! O Dogs and Jackals!"’ cried the Executioner; "here is the flesh of an ungrateful wretch for you to eat."

"We eat not the flesh of the Ungrateful, O Executioner!" replied the dogs and jackals.

Thus the vultures, dogs, and jackals refused to touch the meat, and, last of all, it was offered to the worms.

"O Worms! O Worms!" cried the Executioner. "Here is the flesh of an ungrateful wretch for you to eat."

"We eat not the flesh of the Ungrateful, O Executioner!" replied the worms.

So heinous is Ingratitude that not even the vile worms would eat the flesh of the treacherous Gautama.

The vilest creatures, with abhorrence viewed,
Loathe the corruption of Ingratitude.