The Fox, the Hen, and the Drum

From The Tortoise and the Geese and Other Fables of Bidpai by Maude Barrows Dutton, with illustrations by E. Boyd Smith, online at: Baldwin Project.

Notes. This story is found in both the Bidpai and Panchatantra traditions; for another version, see: The Jackal and the War-Drum. That version does not, however, have the "bird in the hand" element that this story does.

Summary:  A fox is about to catch a chicken when he is distracted by what he thinks is the promise of an even greater catch.

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THE FOX, THE HEN, AND THE DRUM

(NRIOnline)

A Fox, who was out in search of food, discovered a Hen scratching for worms at the foot of a tree. He hid himself in a bush near by, and was about to spring out and seize her, when a strange tapping sound fell upon his ears; for in that same tree there was a Drum, and when the wind blew, the branches beat against it.

Now the Fox was exceedingly hungry, and reasoned thus, "A noise as loud as that must be made by a fowl much larger than this Hen. I will, therefore, let her go, and will bring down that larger bird for my supper."

Without further thought he rushed out of the bush with a noise that put the Hen to flight, and, after many vain efforts, scrambled up the tree. High among the leaves he found the Drum, and fell upon it tooth and claw. He soon had it open, only to see that it was filled with nothing more or less than empty air.

The Fox hung his tail. "What a stupid wretch I am!" he groaned. "Because of my own greediness, I must now go supperless to bed."

0202. The Lion and the Carpenter

From The Panchatantra of Vishnu Sharma, translated by Arthur W. Ryder, online at: The Gold Scales.

Notes. This is yet another of the fables in which the lion (a kind of king) has a jackal as his vassal, along with a crow.

Summary: A carpenter forms a friendship with a lion, but he is not ready to extend that friendship to the lion's companions.

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THE LION AND THE CARPENTER

(Well-Loved Tales)

In a certain city lived a carpenter named Trust-good. It was his constant habit to carry his lunch and go with his wife into the forest, where he cut great anjana logs.

Now in that forest lived a lion named Spotless, who had as hangers-on two carnivorous creatures, a jackal and a crow.

One day the lion was roaming the wood alone and encountered the carpenter. The carpenter for his part, on beholding that most alarming lion, whether considering himself already lost or perhaps with the ready wit to perceive that it is safer to face the powerful, advanced to meet the lion, bowed low, and said: "Come, friend, come! Today you must eat my own dinner which my wife - your brother's wife - has provided."

"My good fellow," said the lion, "being carnivorous, I do not live on rice. But in spite of that, I will have a taste, since I take a fancy to you. What kind of dainty have you got?"

When the lion had spoken, the carpenter stuffed him with all kinds of dainties - buns, muffins, chewers, and things, all flavoured with sugar, butter, grape juice, and spice. And to show his gratitude, the lion guaranteed his safety and granted unhindered passage through the forest.

Then the carpenter said: "Comrade, you must come here every day, but please come alone. You must not bring anyone else to visit me."
In this manner they spent their days in friendship. And the lion, since every day he received such hospitality, such a variety of goodies, gave up the practice of hunting.

Then the jackal and the crow, who lived on others' luck, went hungry, and they implored the lion. "Master," they said, "where do you go every day? And tell us why you come back so happy."

"I don't go anywhere," said he. But when they urged the question with great deference, the lion said: "A friend of mine comes into this wood every day. His wife cooks the most delicious things, and I eat them every day, in order to show friendly feeling."

Then the jackal and the crow said: "We two will go there, will kill the carpenter, and have enough meat and blood to keep us fat for a long time."

But the lion heard them and said: "Look here! I guaranteed his safety. How can I even imagine playing him such a scurvy trick? But I will get a delicious titbit from him for you also." To this they agreed. So the three started to find the carpenter.

While they were still far off, the carpenter caught a glimpse of the lion and his seedy companions, and he thought: "This does not look prosperous to me." So he and his wife made haste to climb a tree.

Then the lion came up and said: "My good fellow, why did you climb a tree when you saw me? Why, I am your friend, the lion. My name is Spotless. Do not be alarmed."

But the carpenter stayed where he was and said:

You jackal does not reassure;
Your crow's sharp bill offends:
You therefore see me up a tree -
I do not like your friends.

201. How Supersmart Ate the Elephant

From The Panchatantra of Vishnu Sharma, translated by Arthur W. Ryder, online at: The Gold Scales.

Notes. As often, the jackal here is a trickster, outsmarting animals stronger than he is and also fending off a rival.

Summary: The jackal has found a dead elephant that he wants to eat, but he needs help to accomplish the task, and he doesn't want to share with anyone else.

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HOW SUPERSMART ATE THE ELEPHANT

(ShemarooKids)

There was once a jackal named Supersmart in a part of a forest. One day he came upon an elephant that had died a natural death in the wood. But he could only stalk about the body; he could not cut through the tough hide.

At this moment a lion, in his wanderings to and fro, came to the spot. And the jackal, spying him, obsequiously rubbed his scalp in the dust, clasped his lotus paws, and said: "My lord and king, I am merely a cudgel-bearer, guarding this elephant in the king's interest. May the king deign to eat it."

Then the lion said: "My good fellow, under no circumstances do I eat what another has killed. I graciously bestow this elephant upon you."

And the jackal joyfully replied: "It is only what our lord and king has taught his servants to expect."

When the lion was gone, a tiger arrived. And the jackal thought when he saw him: "Well, I sent one rascal packing by doing obeisance. Now, how shall I dispose of this one? To be sure, he is a hero, and therefore can be managed only by intrigue. For there is a saying:
Where bribes and flattery would fail,
Intrigue is certain to avail.
And indeed, all creatures are held in bondage by heart-piercing intrigue. As the saying goes:
Even a pearl, so smoothly hard and round,
Is fastened by a thread and safely bound,
After a way to pierce its heart is found."

So he took his decision, went to meet the tiger, and slightly stiffening his neck, he said in an agitated tone: "Uncle, how could you venture into the jaws of death? This elephant was killed by a lion, who put me on guard while he went to bathe. And as he went, he gave me my orders. 'If any tiger comes this way,' he said, 'creep up and tell me. I have to clear this forest of tigers, because once, when I had killed an elephant, a tiger helped himself while my back was turned, and I had the leavings. From that day I have been death on tigers.'"

On hearing this, the tiger was terrified, and said: "My dear nephew, make me a gift of my life. Even if he is slow in returning, don't give him any news of me." With these words he decamped.

When the tiger had gone, a leopard appeared. And the jackal thought when he saw him: "Here comes Spot. He has powerful teeth. So I will use him to cut into this elephant-hide."

With this in mind, he said: "Well, nephew, where have you been this long time? And why do you seem so hungry? You come as my guest, according to the proverb:
A guest in need
Is a guest indeed.
Now here lies this elephant, killed by a lion who appointed me its guardian. But for all that, you may enjoy a square meal of elephant-meat, provided you cut and run before he gets back."

"No, uncle," said the leopard, "if things stand so, this meat is not healthy for me. You know the saying:
A man to thrive
Must keep alive.
Never eat a thing that doesn't sit well on the stomach. So I will be off."

"Don't be timid," said the jackal. "Pluck up courage and eat. I will warn you of his coming while he is yet a long way off."

So the leopard did as suggested, and the jackal, as soon as he saw the hide cut through, called out: "Quick, nephew, quick! Here comes the lion."

Hearing this, the leopard vanished also.

Now while the jackal was eating meat through the opening cut by the leopard, a second jackal came on the scene in a great rage. And Supersmart, esteeming him an equal whose prowess was a known quantity, recited the stanza:
Sway patrons with obeisance;
In heroes raise a doubt;
Fling petty bribes to flunkeys;
With equals, fight it out - 
made a dash at him, tore him with his fangs, made him seek the horizon, and himself comfortably enjoyed elephant-meat for a long time.

0199. How the Rabbit Fooled the Elephant

From The Panchatantra of Vishnu Sharma, translated by Arthur W. Ryder, online at: The Gold Scales.

Notes. See the notes for this story: Hare in the Moon.

Summary: A quick-witted little hare invents a trick to drive the elephants away from the pond where the hares live.

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HOW THE RABBIT FOOLED THE ELEPHANT

(Syrian Kalila-wa-Dimna)

In a part of a forest lived an elephant-king named Four-Tusk, who had a numerous retinue of elephants. His time was spent in protecting the herd.

Now once there came a twelve-year drought, so that tanks, ponds, swamps, and lakes went dry. Then all the elephants said to the lord of the herd: "O King, our little ones are so tortured by thirst that some are like to die, and some are dead. Pray devise a method of removing thirst." So he sent in eight directions elephants fleet as the wind to search for water.

Now those who went east found beside a path near a hermitage a lake named Lake of the Moon. It was beautiful with swans, herons, ospreys, ducks, sheldrakes, cranes, and water-creatures. It was embowered in flowering sprays of branches drooping under the weight of various blossoms. Both banks were embellished with trees. It had beaches made lovely by sheets of foam born of the splashing of transparent waves that danced in the breeze and broke on the shore. Its water was perfumed by the ichor-juice that oozed from elephant-temples washed clean of bees; for these flew up when the lordly creatures plunged. It was ever screened from the heat of the sun by hundreds of parasols in the shape of the countless leaves of trees on its banks. It gave forth deep-toned music from uncounted waves that turned aside on meeting the plump legs, hips, and bosoms of mountain maidens diving. It was brimming with crystal water, and beautified with thickets of water lilies in full bloom. Why describe it? It was a segment of paradise.

When they saw this, they hastened back to report to the elephant-king.

So Four-Tusk, on hearing their report, travelled with them by easy stages to the Lake of the Moon. And finding a gentle slope all around the lake, the elephants plunged in, thereby crushing the heads, necks, fore-paws and hind-paws of thousands of rabbits who long before had made their home on the banks. Now after drinking and bathing, the elephant-king with his followers departed to his own portion of the jungle.

Then the rabbits who were left alive held an emergency convention. "What are we to do now?" said they. "Those fellows - curse their tracks! - will come here every day. Let some plan be framed at once to prevent their return."

Thereupon a rabbit named Victory, perceiving their terror and their utter woe at the crushing of sons, wives, and relatives, said compassionately: "Have no fear. They shall not return. I promise it. For my guardian angel has granted me this grace."

And hearing this, the rabbit-king, whose name was Block-Snout, said to Victory: "Dear friend, this is beyond peradventure. For
Good Victory knows every fact
The textbooks teach; knows how to act
In every place and time. Where he
Is sent, there comes prosperity.
And again:
Speak for pleasure, speak with measure,
Speak with grammar's richest treasure,
Not too much, and with reflection -
Deeds will follow words' direction.
The elephants, sir, making acquaintance with your ripe wisdom, will become aware of my majesty, wisdom, and energy, though I am not present. For the proverb says:
I learn if foreign kings be fools or no
By their dispatches or their nuncio.
And there is a saying:
The envoy binds; he loosens what is bound;
Through him success in war, if found, is found.
And if you go, it is as if I went myself. Because, if you
Speak what lies in your commission,
Speak with careful composition,
Grammar and good ethics seeking,
'It's as if myself were speaking.
And again:
This is, in brief, the envoy's care:
An argument to fit the facts
And sound results, so far as speech
May be translated into acts.
"Depart then, dear friend. And may the office of envoy prove a second guardian angel to you."

So Victory departed and espied the elephant-king in the act of returning to the lake. He was surrounded by thousands of lordly elephants, whose ears, like flowering branches, were swaying in a dignified dance. His body was dappled with masses of pollen from his couch made of twigs from the tips of branches of flowering cassia trees; so that he seemed a laden cloud with many clinging lightning-flashes. His trumpeting was as deep toned and awe inspiring as the clash of countless thunderbolts from which in the rainy season piercing flashes gleam. He had the glossy beauty of leaves in a bed of pure blue lotuses. His twisting trunk had the charm of a perfect snake. His presence was that of an elephant of heaven. His two tusks, shapely, smooth, and full, had the colour of honey. Around his entire visage rose a charming hum from swarms of bees drawn by the fragrant perfume of the ichor-juice that issued from his temples.

And Victory reflected: "It is impossible for folk like me to come too near. Because, as the proverb puts it:
An elephant will kill you if
He touch; a serpent if he sniff;
King's laughter has a deadly sting;
A rascal kills by honouring.
I must by all odds seek impregnable terrain before introducing myself."

After these reflections, he climbed upon a tall and jagged rock-pile before saying: "Is it well with you, lord of the two-tusked breed?"

And the elephant king, hearing this, peered narrowly about, and said "Who are you, sir?"

"I am an envoy," said the rabbit.

"In whose service?" asked the elephant, and the envoy answered: "In the service of the blessèd Moon."

"State your business," said the elephant king, and the rabbit stated it thus.

"You are aware, sir, that no injury may be done an envoy in the discharge of his function. For all kings, without exception, use envoys as their mouthpieces. Indeed, there is a proverb:
Though swords be out and kinsmen fall in strife,
The king still spares the harsh-tongued envoy's life.
"Therefore by command of the Moon I say to you: 'Why, O mortal, why have you used violence upon others, with no true reckoning of your own power or your foe's? For the Scripture says:
All those who madly march to deeds,
Not reckoning who are masters,
Themselves or powerful enemies,
Are asking for disasters.
"'Now you have sinfully violated the Lake of the Moon, known afar by my sacred name. And there you have slain rabbits who are under my special protection, who are of the race of that rabbit-king cherished in my bosom. This is iniquitous. Nay, one would think you the only creature in the world who does not know the rabbit in the moon. But what is gained by much speaking? Desist from such actions, or great disaster will befall you at my hands. But if from this hour you desist, great distinction will be yours; for your body will be nourished by my moonlight, and with your companions you shall pursue your happy, carefree fancies in this forest. In the alternative case, my light shall be withheld, your body will be scorched by summer heat, and you with your companions will perish.'"

On hearing this, the elephant-king felt his heart stagger, and after long reflection he said: "It is true, sir. I have sinned against the blessèd Moon. Who am I that I should longer contend with him? Pray point out to me, and quickly, the way that I must travel to win the blessèd Moon's forgiveness."

The rabbit said: "Come, sir, alone. I will point it out."

So he went by night to the Lake of the Moon, and showed him the moon reflected in the water. There was the brilliant, quivering disk, of lustrous loveliness, surrounded by planets, the Seven Sages, and hosts of stars, all dancing in the reflection of heaven's broad expanse. And its circle was complete, with the full complement of digits.

Seeing this, the elephant said: "I purify myself and worship the deity," and he dropped upon the water a trunk that two men's arms might have encircled. Thereby he disturbed the water, the moon's disk danced to and fro as if mounted on a whirling wheel, and he saw a thousand moons.

Then Victory started back in great agitation, and said to the elephant-king: "Woe, woe to you, O King! You have doubly enraged the Moon."

The elephant said: "For what reason is the blessèd Moon angry with me?"

"Because," said Victory, "you have touched this water."

So the elephant-king, with drooping ears, bowed his head to the very earth in deep obeisance, in order to win forgiveness from the blessèd Moon.

And he spoke again to Victory: "My worthy sir, in all other manners, also, beseech for me the forgiveness of the blessèd Moon. I shall never return here." And with these words he went to his own place.

The feigning of a great commission
Immensely betters your condition:
Feigning a message from the moon,
The rabbits dwelt in comfort soon.

0198. The Frog-King's Folly

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

Notes. This is a story you will also find in the Panchatantra.

Summary: A snake tricks the foolish king of the frogs by offering him a ride... but the frog ends up paying a high price for the ride.

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THE FROG-KING'S FOLLY

(source)

Once upon a time a snake had grown too old to catch prey, so it went and took up its quarters beside a pool where there were many frogs.

The King of the Frogs, named Yal-Pada, the Web-Footed One, was apprised of the coming of this dangerous stranger. He went to the snake, attended by all the frogs, to enquire why, of all places on earth, it had chosen the vicinity of this particular pool for its home.

"I am named Manda-Vish, Slow Poison, O King Yal-Pada," said the snake, lowering its hood. "I am under a curse and forbidden to harm frogs without the leave of their king. Once I pursued a frog and by accident bit a Brahmin. He died, pronouncing this curse on me: May you die if you eat a frog again unless with the leave of the King of the Frogs. O King Yal-Pada, I mean to do penance for my sin in slaying the Brahmin," said the snake. "Let it be my penance to bear your majesty on my head wherever it shall please you to ride."

Without more ado Yal-Pada leaped onto the hood of the snake, which crawled away, swaying its body gracefully to and fro.

The other frogs looked on amazed, but some bolder spirits amongst them followed their king at a distance.

After a time the snake stopped, gasping. "Why do you stay, O Manda-Vish?" asked Yal-Pada.

"O King of the Frogs, I am famished and faint," replied the wily serpent. "I cannot bear you back to the pool unless you grant me something to eat. To eat a frog without your leave, I have told you, would mean my death."

King Yal-Pada had enjoyed his ride immensely, and did not like the idea of losing his dignity by hopping back to the pool, so he offered one of his attendant frogs to the snake.

Having thus appeased its hunger, Manda-Vish took the King of the Frogs up on its hood again and crawled away back to the pool.
In this way the snake was provided with a frog every day, and in return for its meals it took Yal-Pada out on its hood for a ride. Thus one by one all the frogs were eaten up.

When there were no more frogs left for it, Manda-Vish made its last meal off King Yal-Pada, and then departed to find fresh folly to be the victim of its guile.

0195. Numskull and the Rabbit

From The Panchatantra of Vishnu Sharma, translated by Arthur W. Ryder, online at: The Gold Scales.

Notes. You can see a version of this story from the Shukasaptati.

Summary: A sly rabbit decides to challenge the tyrannical rule of the lion.

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NUMSKULL AND THE RABBIT

(source)

Intelligence is power. But where
Could power and folly make a pair?
The rabbit played upon his pride
To fool him; and the lion died.

In a part of a forest was a lion drunk with pride, and his name was Numskull. He slaughtered the animals without ceasing. If he saw an animal, he could not spare him.

So all the natives of the forest - deer, boars, buffaloes, wild oxen, rabbits, and others - came together, and with woe-begone countenances, bowed heads, and knees clinging to the ground, they undertook to beseech obsequiously the king of beasts: "Have done, O King, with this merciless, meaningless slaughter of all creatures. It is hostile to happiness in the other world. For the Scripture says:
A thousand future lives
Will pass in wretchedness
For sins a fool commits
His present life to bless.
Again:
What wisdom in a deed
That brings dishonour fell,
That causes loss of trust,
That paves the way to hell?
And yet again:
The ungrateful body, frail
And rank with filth within,
Is such that only fools
For its sake sink in sin.
"Consider these facts, and cease, we pray, to slaughter our generations. For if the master will remain at home, we will of our own motion send him each day for his daily food one animal of the forest. In this way neither the royal sustenance nor our families will be cut short. In this way let the king's duty be performed. For the proverb says:
The king who tastes his kingdom like
Elixir, bit by bit,
Who does not overtax its life,
Will fully relish it.
The king who madly butchers men,
Their lives as little reckoned
As lives of goats, has one square meal,
But never has a second.
A king desiring profit, guards
His world from evil chance;
With gifts and honours waters it
As florists water plants.
Guard subjects like a cow, nor ask
For milk each passing hour:
A vine must first be sprinkled, then
It ripens fruit and flower.
The monarch-lamp from subjects draws
Tax-oil to keep it bright:
Has any ever noticed kings
That shone by inner light?
A seedling is a tender thing,
And yet, if not neglected,
It comes in time to bearing fruit:
So subjects well protected.
Their subjects form the only source
From which accrue to kings
Their gold, grain, gems, and varied drinks,
And many other things.
The kings who serve the common weal,
Luxuriantly sprout;
The common loss is kingly loss,
Without a shade of doubt."

After listening to this address, Numskull said: "Well, gentlemen, you are quite convincing. But if an animal does not come to me every day as I sit here, I promise you I will eat you all."

To this they assented with much relief, and fearlessly roamed the wood. Each day at noon one of them appeared as his dinner, each species taking its turn and providing an individual grown old, or religious, or grief-smitten, or fearful of the loss of son or wife.

One day a rabbit's turn came, it being rabbit-day. And when all the thronging animals had given him directions, he reflected: "How is it possible to kill this lion - curse him! Yet after all,
In what can wisdom not prevail?
In what can resolution fail?
What cannot flattery subdue?
What cannot enterprise put through?
I can kill even a lion."

So he went very slowly, planning to arrive tardily, and meditating with troubled spirit on a means of killing him. Late in the day he came into the presence of the lion, whose throat was pinched by hunger in consequence of the delay, and who angrily thought as he licked his chops: "Aha! I must kill all the animals the first thing in the morning."

While he was thinking, the rabbit slowly drew near, bowed low, and stood before him. But when the lion saw that he was tardy and too small at that for a meal, his soul flamed with wrath, and he taunted the rabbit, saying: "You reprobate! First, you are too small for a meal. Second, you are tardy. Because of this wickedness I am going to kill you, and tomorrow morning I shall extirpate every species of animal."

Then the rabbit bowed low and said with deference: "Master, the wickedness is not mine, nor the other animals*. Pray hear the cause of it."

And the lion answered: "Well, tell it quick, before you are between my fangs."

"Master," said the rabbit, "all the animals recognized today that the rabbits' turn had come, and because I was quite small, they dispatched me with five other rabbits. But in mid-journey there issued from a great hole in the ground a lion who said: 'Where are you bound? Pray to your favourite god.' Then I said: 'We are travelling as the dinner of lion Numskull, our master, according to agreement.' 'Is that so?' said he. 'This forest belongs to me. So all the animals, without exception, must deal with me according to agreement. This Numskull is a sneak thief. Call him out and bring him here at once. Then whichever of us proves stronger, shall be king and shall eat all these animals.' At his command, master, I have come to you. This is the cause of my tardiness. For the rest, my master is the sole judge."

After listening to this, Numskull said: "Well, well, my good fellow, show me that sneak thief of a lion, and be quick about it. I cannot find peace of mind until I have vented on him my anger against the animals. He should have remembered the saying:
Land and friends and gold at most
Have been won when battles cease;
If but one of these should fail,
Do not think of breaking peace.
Where no great reward is won,
Where defeat is nearly sure,
Never stir a quarrel, but
Find it wiser to endure."

"Quite so, master," said the rabbit. "Warriors fight for their country when they are insulted. But this fellow skulks in a fortress. You know he came out of a fortress when he held us up. And an enemy in a fortress is hard to handle. As the saying goes:
A single royal fortress adds
More military force
Than do a thousand elephants,
A hundred thousand horse.
A single archer from a wall
A hundred foes forfends;
And so the military art
A fortress recommends.
God Indra used the wit and skill
Of gods in days of old,
When Devil Gold-mat plagued the world,
To build a fortress-hold.
And he decreed that any king
Who built a fortress sound,
Should conquer foemen. This is why
Such fortresses abound."

When he heard this, Numskull said: "My good fellow, show me that thief. Even if he is hiding in a fortress, I will kill him. For the proverb says:
The strongest man who fails to crush
At birth, disease or foe,
Will later be destroyed by that
Which he permits to grow.
And again:
The man who reckons well his power,
Nor pride nor vigour lacks,
May single-handed smite his foes
Like Rama-with-the-axe."

"Very true," said the rabbit. "But after all it was a mighty lion that I saw. So the master should not set out without realizing the enemy's capacity. As the saying runs:
A warrior failing to compare
Two hosts, in mad desire
For battle, plunges like a moth
Headforemost into fire.
And again:
The weak who challenge mighty foes
A battle to abide,
Like elephants with broken tusks,
Return with drooping pride."

But Numskull said: "What business is it of yours? Show him to me, even in his fortress."

"Very well," said the rabbit. "Follow me, master." And he led the way to a well, where he said to the lion: "Master, who can endure your majesty? The moment he saw you, that thief crawled clear into his hole. Come, I will show him to you."

"Be quick about it, my good fellow," said Numskull.

So the rabbit showed him the well. And the lion, being a dreadful fool, saw his own reflection in the water, and gave voice to a great roar. Then from the well issued a roar twice as loud, because of the echo. This the lion heard, decided that his rival was very powerful, hurled himself down, and met his death.

Thereupon the rabbit cheerfully carried the glad news to all the animals, received their compliments, and lived there contentedly in the forest.

Intelligence is power. But where
Could power and folly make a pair?
The rabbit played upon his pride
To fool him; and the lion died.

0194. The Mice that Ate Iron

From The Panchatantra of Vishnu Sharma, translated by Arthur W. Ryder, online at: The Gold Scales.

Notes. See the notes to this version of the story: The Stolen Plow.

Summary: A merchant cheats a businessman, claiming that mice ate the the businessman's iron balance, but the friend finds a way to win in the end.

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THE MICE THAT ATE IRON

(The Mice that Ate Iron)

In a certain town lived a merchant named Naduk, who lost his money and determined to travel abroad. For

The meanest of mankind is he
Who, having lost his money, can
Inhabit lands or towns where once
He spent it like a gentleman.

And again:

The neighbour gossips blame
His poverty as shame
Who long was wont to play
Among them, proud and gay.

In his house was an iron balance-beam inherited from his ancestors, and it weighed a thousand pals. This he put in pawn with Merchant Lakshman before he departed for foreign countries.

Now after he had long travelled wherever business led him through foreign lands, he returned to his native city and said to Merchant Lakshman: "Friend Lakshman, return my deposit, the balance-beam."

And Lakshman said: "Friend Naduk, your balance beam has been eaten by mice."

To this Naduk replied: "Lakshman, you are in no way to blame, if it has been eaten by mice. Such is life. Nothing in the universe has any permanence. However, I am going to the river for a bath. Please send your boy Money-God with me, to carry my bathing things."

Since Lakshman was conscience-stricken at his own theft, he said to his son Money-God: "My dear boy, let me introduce Uncle Naduk, who is going to the river to bathe. You must go with him and carry his bathing things."

Ah, there is too much truth in the saying:

There is no purely loving deed
Without a pinch of fear or greed
Or service of a selfish need.

And again:

Wherever there is fond attention
That does not seek a service pension,
Was there no timid apprehension?

So Lakshman's son took the bathing things and delightedly accompanied Naduk to the river.

After Naduk had taken his bath, he thrust Lakshman's son Money-God into a mountain cave, blocked the entrance with a great rock, and returned to Lakshman's house.

And when Lakshman said: "Friend Naduk, tell me what has become of my son Money-God who went with you," Naduk answered: "My good Lakshman, a hawk carried him off from the river-bank."

"Oh, Naduk!" cried Lakshman. "You liar! How could a hawk possibly carry off a big boy like Money-God?"

"But, Lakshman," retorted Naduk, "the mice could eat a balance-beam made of iron. Give me my balance-beam, if you want your son."

Finally, they carried their dispute to the palace gate, where Lakshman cried in a piercing tone: "Help! Help! A ghastly deed! This Naduk person has carried off my son his name is Money-God."

Thereupon the magistrates said to Naduk: "Sir, restore the boy to Lakshman."

But Naduk pleaded: "What am I to do? Before my eyes a hawk carried him from the river-bank."

"Come, Naduk!" said they, "you are not telling the truth. How can a hawk carry off a fifteen-year-old boy?"

Then Naduk laughed outright and said: "Gentlemen, listen to my words.

Where mice eat balance-beams of iron
A thousand pals in weight,
A hawk might steal an elephant;
A boy is trifling freight."

"How was that?" they asked, and Naduk told them the story of the balance-beam. At this they laughed and caused the restoration of balance-beam and boy to the respective owners.

0193. Forethought, Ready-Wit, and Fatalist

From The Panchatantra of Vishnu Sharma, translated by Arthur W. Ryder, online at: The Gold Scales.

Notes. In Sanskrit, the names of the three fishes are Anagatavidhata, Pratyutpannamati and Yadbhavishya.

Summary: Three fish with different outlooks each react in their own way to the arrival of the fishermen.

Read the story below:

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FORETHOUGHT, READY-WIT, AND FATALIST

(Geetanajali YouTube)

In a great lake lived three full-grown fishes, whose names were Forethought, Ready-wit, and Fatalist. Now one day the fish named Forethought overheard passers-by on the bank and fishermen saying: "There are plenty of fish in this pond. Tomorrow we go fishing."

On hearing this, Forethought reflected: "This looks bad. Tomorrow or the day after they will be sure to come here. I will take Ready-wit and Fatalist and move to another lake whose waters are not troubled."

So he called them and put the question.

Thereupon Ready-wit said: "I have lived long in this lake and cannot move in such a hurry. If fishermen come here, then I will protect myself by some means devised for the occasion."

But poor, doomed Fatalist said: "There are sizable lakes elsewhere. Who knows whether they will come here or not? One should not abandon the lake of his birth merely because of such small gossip. And the proverb says:
Since scamp and sneak and snake
So often undertake
A plan that does not thrive,
The world wags on, alive.
Therefore I am determined not to go."

And when Forethought realized that their minds were made up, he went to another body of water.

On the next day, when he had gone, the fishermen with their boys beset the inner pool, cast a net, and caught all the fish without exception.

Under these circumstances Ready-wit, while still in the water, played dead. And since they thought: "This big fellow died without help," they drew him from the net and laid him on the bank, from which he wriggled back to safety in the water.

But Fatalist stuck his nose into the meshes of the net, struggling until they pounded him repeatedly with clubs and so killed him.

Forethought and Ready-wit thrive;
Fatalist can't keep alive.

0192. Shell-Neck, Slim, and Grim

From The Panchatantra of Vishnu Sharma, translated by Arthur W. Ryder, online at: The Gold Scales.

Notes. This famous story is found in both the Jataka and Panchatantra traditions, and thanks to La Fontaine, it became part of the Aesopic tradition later in Europe: The Tortoise Flying.

Summary: Two geese help their friend, a turtle, to go flying.

Read the story below:

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SHELL-NECK, SLIM, AND GRIM

(Directorium Humanae Vitae 1484)

In a certain lake lived a turtle named Shell-Neck. He had as friends two ganders whose names were Slim and Grim.

Now in the vicissitudes of time there came a twelve-year drought, which begot ideas of this nature in the two ganders: "This lake has gone dry. Let us seek another body of water. However, we must first say farewell to Shell-Neck, our dear and long-proved friend."

When they did so, the turtle said: "Why do you bid me farewell? I am a water-dweller, and here I should perish very quickly from the scant supply of water and from grief at loss of you. Therefore, if you feel any affection for me, please rescue me from the jaws of this death. Besides, as the water dries in this lake, you two suffer nothing beyond a restricted diet, while to me it means immediate death. Consider which is more serious, loss of food or loss of life."

But they replied: "We are unable to take you with us since you are a water-creature without wings."

Yet the turtle continued: "There is a possible device. Bring a stick of wood." This they did, whereupon the turtle gripped the middle of the stick between his teeth, and said: "Now take firm hold with your bills, one on each side, fly up, and travel with even flight through the sky, until we discover another desirable body of water."

But they objected: "There is a hitch in this fine plan. If you happen to indulge in the smallest conversation, then you will lose your hold on the stick, will fall from a great height, and will be dashed to bits."

"Oh," said the turtle, "from this moment I take a vow of silence, to last as long as we are in heaven."

So they carried out the plan, but while the two ganders were painfully carrying the turtle over a neighbouring city, the people below noticed the spectacle, and there arose a confused buzz of talk as they asked: "What is this cartlike object that two birds are carrying through the atmosphere?"

Hearing this, the doomed turtle was heedless enough to ask: "What are these people chattering about?"

The moment he spoke, the poor simpleton lost his grip and fell to the ground. And persons who wanted meat cut him to bits in a moment with sharp knives.

To take advice from kindly friends
Be ever satisfied:
The stupid turtle lost his grip
Upon the stick, and died.

0191. The Heron That Liked Crab-Meat

From The Panchatantra of Vishnu Sharma, translated by Arthur W. Ryder, online at: The Gold Scales.

Notes. You can see the Jataka version of this story here: The Cunning Crane and the Crab.

Summary: The heron offers to transport the fish, but the crab is not so easily fooled.

Read the story below:

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THE HERON THAT LIKED CRAB-MEAT

(Mocomi YouTube)

There was once a heron in a certain place on the edge of a pond. Being old, he sought an easy way of catching fish on which to live. He began by lingering at the edge of his pond, pretending to be quite irresolute, not eating even the fish within his reach.

Now among the fish lived a crab. He drew near and said: "Uncle, why do you neglect today your usual meals and amusements?" And the heron replied: "So long as I kept fat and flourishing by eating fish, I spent my time pleasantly, enjoying the taste of you. But a great disaster will soon befall you. And as I am old, this will cut short the pleasant course of my life. For this reason I feel depressed."

"Uncle," said the crab, "of what nature is the disaster?"

And the heron continued: "Today I overheard the talk of a number of fishermen as they passed near the pond. 'This is a big pond,' they were saying, 'full of fish. We will try a cast of the net tomorrow or the day after. But today we will go to the lake near the city.' This being so, you are lost, my food supply is cut off, I too am lost, and in grief at the thought, I am indifferent to food today."

Now when the water-dwellers heard the trickster's report, they all feared for their lives and implored the heron, saying: "Uncle! Father! Brother! Friend! Thinker! Since you are informed of the calamity, you also know the remedy. Pray save us from the . . . this death."

Then the heron said: "I am a bird not competent to contend with men. This, however, I can do. I can transfer you from this pond to another, a bottomless one." By this artful speech they were so led astray that they said: "Uncle! Friend! Unselfish kinsman! Take me first! Me first! Did you never hear this?
Stout hearts delight to pay the price
Of merciful self-sacrifice,
Count life as nothing, if it end
In gentle service to a friend."

Then the old rascal laughed in his heart, and took counsel with his mind, thus: "My shrewdness has brought these fishes into my power. They ought to be eaten very comfortably."

Having thus thought it through, he promised what the thronging fish implored, lifted some in his bill, carried them a certain distance to a slab of stone, and ate them there. Day after day he made the trip with supreme delight and satisfaction, and meeting the fish, kept their confidence by ever new inventions.

One day the crab, disturbed by the fear of death, importuned him with the words: "Uncle, pray save me, too, from the jaws of death."
And the heron reflected: "I am quite tired of this unvarying fish diet. I should like to taste him. He is different, and choice." So he picked up the crab and flew through the air.

But since he avoided all bodies of water and seemed planning to alight on the sun-scorched rock, the crab asked him: "Uncle, where is that pond without any bottom?"

And the heron laughed and said: "Do you see that broad, sun-scorched rock? All the water-dwellers have found repose there. Your turn has now come to find repose."

Then the crab looked down and saw a great rock of sacrifice, made horrible by heaps of fish-skeletons. And he thought: "Ah me!
Friends are foes and foes are friends
As they mar or serve your ends;
Few discern where profit tends.
Again:
If you will, with serpents play;
Dwell with foemen who betray:
Shun your false and foolish friends,
Fickle, seeking vicious ends.
Why, he has already eaten these fish whose skeletons are scattered in heaps. So what might be an opportune course of action for me? Yet why do I need to consider?
Man is bidden to chastise
Even elders who devise
Devious courses, arrogant,
Of their duty ignorant.
Again:
Fear fearful things, while yet
No fearful thing appears;
When danger must be met,
Strike, and forget your fears.
So, before he drops me there, I will catch his neck with all four claws."

When he did so, the heron tried to escape, but being a fool, he found no parry to the grip of the crab's nippers, and had his head cut off.

Then the crab painfully made his way back to the pond, dragging the heron's neck as if it had been a lotus-stalk.

And when he came among the fish, they said: "Brother, why come back?"

Thereupon he showed the head as his credentials and said: "He enticed the water-dwellers from every quarter, deceived them with his prevarications, dropped them on a slab of rock not far away, and ate them. But I - further life being predestined - perceived that he destroyed the trustful, and I have brought back his neck. Forget your worries. All the water-dwellers shall live in peace."

A heron ate what fish he could,
The bad, indifferent, and good;
His greed was never satisfied
Till, strangled by a crab, he died.

0190. The Donkey in the Tiger-Skin

From The Panchatantra of Vishnu Sharma, translated by Arthur W. Ryder, online at: The Gold Scales.

Notes. Compare the Aesop's fables of the donkey in the lion's skin.

Summary: The donkey's owner disguises his donkey as a tiger, but the scheme does not last long.

Read the story below:

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THE DONKEY IN THE TIGER-SKIN

(Android Gems)

There was once a laundryman named Clean-Cloth in a certain town. He had a single donkey who had grown very feeble from lack of fodder. As the laundryman wandered in the forest, he saw a dead tiger, and he thought: "Ah, this is lucky. I will put this tiger-skin on the donkey and let him loose in the barley fields at night. For the farmers will think him a tiger and will not drive him out."

When this was done, the donkey ate barley to his heart's content. And at dawn the laundryman took him back to the barn. So as time passed, he grew plump. He could hardly squeeze into the stall.

But one day the donkey heard the bray of a she-donkey in the distance. At the mere sound he himself began to bray. Then the farmers perceived that he was a donkey in disguise, and killed him with blows from clubs and stones and arrows.

However skilful in disguise,
However frightful to the eyes,
Although in tiger-skin arrayed,
The ass was killed - because he brayed.

0189. The Brahman's Dream

From The Panchatantra of Vishnu Sharma, translated by Arthur W. Ryder, online at: The Gold Scales.

Notes. For more stories of this type, see Dan Ashliman's collection: Air Castles,

Summary: A brahman dreams of how he will sell his barley-meal and multiple his riches, but things do not turn out as he imagines.

Read the story below:

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THE BRAHMAN'S DREAM

(Brahman priest)

In a certain town lived a Brahman named Seedy, who got some barley-meal by begging, ate a portion, and filled a jar with the remainder. This jar he hung on a peg one night, placed his cot beneath it, and fixing his gaze on the jar, fell into a hypnotic reverie.

"Well, here is a jar full of barley-meal," he thought. "Now if famine comes, a hundred rupees will come out of it. With that sum I will get two she-goats. Every six months they will bear two more she-goats. After goats, cows. When the cows calve, I will sell the calves. After cows, buffaloes; after buffaloes, mares. From the mares I shall get plenty of horses. The sale of these will mean plenty of gold. The gold will buy a great house with an inner court. Then someone will come to my house and offer his lovely daughter with a dowry. She will bear a son, whom I shall name Moon-Lord. When he is old enough to ride on my knee, I will take a book, sit on the stable roof, and think. Just then Moon-Lord will see me, will jump from his mother's lap in his eagerness to ride on my knee, and will go too near the horses. Then I shall get angry and tell my wife to take the boy. But she will be busy with her chores and will not pay attention to what I say. Then I will get up and kick her."

Being sunk in his hypnotic dream, he let fly such a kick that he smashed the jar. And the barley-meal which it contained turned him white all over.

0188. Mouse-Maid Made Mouse

From The Panchatantra of Vishnu Sharma, translated by Arthur W. Ryder, online at: The Gold Scales.

Notes. For more stories of this type, see Dan Ashliman's collection: The Mouse who Was to Marry the Sun.

Summary: A powerful sage turns a mouse into a woman, and then that the time comes for her to marry: who will be her husband?

Read the story below:

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MOUSE-MAID MADE MOUSE

(Surya the Sun God)

Though mountain, sun, and cloud, and wind
Were suitors at her feet,
The mouse-maid turned a mouse again —
Nature is hard to beat.

The billows of the Ganges were dotted with pearly foam born of the leaping of fishes frightened at hearing the roar of the waters that broke on the rugged, rocky shore. On the bank was a hermitage crowded with holy men devoting their time to the performance of sacred rites — chanting, self-denial, self-torture, study, fasting, and sacrifice. They would take purified water only, and that in measured sips. Their bodies wasted under a diet of bulbs, roots, fruits, and moss. A loin-cloth made of bark formed their scanty raiment.

The father of the hermitage was named Yajnavalkya. After he had bathed in the sacred stream and had begun to rinse his mouth, a little female mouse dropped from a hawk's beak and fell into his hand. When he saw what she was, he laid her on a banyan leaf, repeated his bath and mouth-rinsing, and performed a ceremony of purification. Then through the magic power of his holiness, he changed her into a girl, and took her with him to his hermitage.

As his wife was childless, he said to her: "Take her, my dear wife. She has come into life as your daughter, and you must rear her carefully." So the wife reared her and spoiled her with petting.

As soon as the girl reached the age of twelve, the mother saw that she was ready for marriage, and said to her husband: "My dear husband, how can you fail to see that the time is passing when your daughter should marry?"

And he replied: "You are quite right, my dear. The saying goes:
Before a man is gratified,
These gods must treat her as a bride —
The fire, the moon, the choir of heaven;
In this way, no offense is given.
Holiness is the gift of fire;
A sweet voice, of the heavenly choir;
The moon gives purity within:
So is a woman free from sin.
Before nubility, it's said
That she is white; but after, red;
Before her womanhood is plain,
She is, though naked, free from stain.
The moon, in mystic fashion, weds
A maiden when her beauty spreads;
The heavenly choir, when bosoms grow;
The fire, upon the monthly flow.
To wed a maid is therefore good
Before developed womanhood;
Nor need the loving parents wait
Beyond the early age of eight.
The early signs one kinsman slay;
The bosom takes the next away;
Friends die for passion gratified;
The father, if she never be bride.
For if she bides a maiden still,
She gives herself to whom she will;
Then marry her in tender age:
So warns the heaven-begotten sage.
If she, unwed, unpurified,
Too long within the home abide,
She may no longer married be:
A miserable spinster, she.
A father then, avoiding sin,
Weds her, the appointed time within
(Wherever a husband may be had)
To good, indifferent, or bad.
Now I will try to give her to one of her own station. You know the saying:
Where wealth is very much the same,
And similar the family fame,
Marriage (or friendship) is secure;
But not between the rich and poor.
And finally:
Aim at seven things in marriage;
All the rest you may disparage:
"But
Get money, good looks,
And knowledge of books,
Good family, youth,
Position, and truth.
"So, if she is willing, I will summon the blessèd sun, and give her to him."

"I see no harm in that," said his wife. "Let it be done."

The holy man therefore summoned the sun, who appeared without delay, and said: "Holy sir, why am I summoned?"

The father said: "Here is a daughter of mine. Be kind enough to marry her." Then, turning to his daughter, he said: "Little girl, how do you like him, this blessèd lamp of the three worlds?"

"No, father," said the girl. "He is too burning hot. I could not like him. Please summon another one, more excellent than he is."

Upon hearing this, the holy man said to the sun: "Blessed one, is there any superior to you?"

And the sun replied: "Yes, the cloud is superior even to me. When he covers me, I disappear."

So the holy man summoned the cloud next, and said to the maiden: "Little girl, I will give you to him."

"No," said she. "This one is black and frigid. Give me to someone finer than he."

Then the holy man asked: "O cloud, is there anyone superior to you?"

And the cloud replied: "The wind is superior even to me."

So he summoned the wind, and said: "Little girl, I give you to him."

"Father," said she, "this one is too fidgety. Please invite somebody superior even to him."

So the holy man said: "O wind, is there anyone superior even to you?"

"Yes," said the wind. "The mountain is superior to me."

So he summoned the mountain and said to the maiden: "Little girl, I give you to him."

"Oh, father," said she. "He is rough all over, and stiff. Please give me to somebody else."

So the holy man asked: "O kingly mountain, is there anyone superior even to you?"

"Yes," said the mountain. "Mice are superior to me."

Then the holy man summoned a mouse, and presented him to the girl, saying: "Little girl, do you like this mouse?"

The moment she saw him, she felt: "My own kind, my own kind," and her body thrilled and quivered, and she said: "Father dear, turn me into a mouse, and give me to him. Then I can keep house as my kind of people ought to do."

And her father, through the magic power of his holiness, turned her into a mouse, and gave her to him.

Though mountain, sun, and cloud, and wind
Were suitors at her feet,
The mouse-maid turned a mouse again —
Nature is hard to beat.

0187. The Blue Jackal

From The Panchatantra of Vishnu Sharma, translated by Arthur W. Ryder, online at: The Gold Scales.

Notes. You can find an article about this story at Wikipedia.

Summary: A jackal falls into a vat of indigo, and for a time he takes advantage of his newly blue appearance.

Read the story below:

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THE BLUE JACKAL

(Blue Jackal bookcover)

Whoever leaves his friends,
Strange folk to cherish,
Like foolish Fierce-Howl, will
Untimely perish.

There was once a jackal named Fierce-Howl, who lived in a cave near the suburbs of a city. One day he was hunting for food, his throat pinched with hunger, and wandered into the city after nightfall. There the city dogs snapped at his limbs with their sharp-pointed teeth, and terrified his heart with their dreadful barking, so that he stumbled this way and that in his efforts to escape and happened into the house of a dyer. There he tumbled into a tremendous indigo vat, and all the dogs went home.

Presently the jackal - further life being predestined - managed to crawl out of the indigo vat and escaped into the forest. There all the thronging animals in his vicinity caught a glimpse of his body dyed with the juice of indigo, and crying out: "What is this creature enriched with that unprecedented colour?" they fled, their eyes dancing with terror, and spread the report: "Oh, oh! Here is an exotic creature that has dropped from somewhere. Nobody knows what his conduct might be, or his energy. We are going to vamoose. For the proverb says:
Where you do not know
Conduct, stock, and pluck,
It's not wise to trust,
If you wish for luck.

Now Fierce-Howl perceived their dismay, and called to them: "Come, come, you wild things! Why do you flee in terror at sight of me? For Indra, realizing that the forest creatures have no monarch, anointed me - my name is Fierce-Howl - as your king. Rest in safety within the cage formed by my resistless paws."

On hearing this, the lions, tigers, leopards, monkeys, rabbits, gazelles, jackals, and other species of wild life bowed humbly, saying: "Master, prescribe to us our duties."

Thereupon he appointed the lion prime minister and the tiger lord of the bedchamber, while the leopard was made custodian of the king's betel, the elephant doorkeeper, and the monkey the bearer of the royal parasol.

But to all the jackals, his own kindred, he administered a cuffing, and drove them away. Thus he enjoyed the kingly glory, while lions and others killed food-animals and laid them before him. These he divided and distributed to all after the manner of kings.

While time passed in this fashion, he was sitting one day in his court when he heard the sound made by a pack of jackals howling nearby. At this his body thrilled, his eyes filled with tears of joy, he leaped to his feet, and began to howl in a piercing tone.

When the lions and others heard this, they perceived that he was a jackal, and stood for a moment shamefaced and downcast, then they said: "Look! We have been deceived by this jackal. Let the fellow be killed."

And when he heard this, he endeavoured to flee, but was torn to bits by a tiger and died.

Whoever leaves his friends,
Strange folk to cherish,
Like foolish Fierce-Howl, will
Untimely perish.

0186. The Jackal and the War-Drum

From The Panchatantra of Vishnu Sharma, translated by Arthur W. Ryder, online at: The Gold Scales.

Notes. This story entered into the European tradition via medieval Latin translations of the Panchatantra, replacing the jackal with a fox.

Summary: A jackal searching for food hears a loud sound, and he investigates.

Read the story below:

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THE JACKAL AND THE WAR-DRUM

(Kalila-wa-Dimna ms., 14th c.)

In a certain region was a jackal whose throat was pinched by hunger. While wandering in search of food, he came upon a king's battle ground in the midst of a forest. And as he lingered a moment there, he heard a great sound.

This sound troubled his heart exceedingly, so that he fell into deep dejection and said: "Ah me! Disaster is upon me. I am as good as dead already. Who made that sound? What kind of a creature?"

But on peering about, he spied a war-drum that loomed like a mountain-peak, and he thought: "Was that sound its natural voice, or was it induced from without?"

Now when the drum was struck by the tips of grasses swaying in the wind, it made the sound, but was dumb at other times.

So he recognized its helplessness, and crept quite near. Indeed, his curiosity led him to strike it himself on both heads, and he became gleeful at the thought: "Aha! After long waiting food comes even to me. For this is sure to be stuffed with meat and fat."

Having come to this conclusion, he picked a spot, gnawed a hole, and crept in. And though the leather covering was tough, still he had the luck not to break his teeth. But he was disappointed to find it pure wood and skin, and recited a stanza:

Its voice was fierce; I thought it stuffed
With fat, so crept within;
And there I did not find a thing
Except some wood and skin.

And that is why one should not be troubled by a mere sound.

0062. A Rat's Swayamvara

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

Notes. For more stories of this type, see Dan Ashliman's collection: The Mouse who Was to Marry the Sun. For more about the swayamvara tradition of the bride choice in India, see Wikipedia.

Summary: A powerful sage turns a rat into a woman, and then that woman decides she wants to marry the most powerful being in the world: who will she marry?

Read the story below:

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A RAT'S SWAYAMVARA

(Sun Carriage; Murudeshwar India)

A mighty Sage was Yagna-valkya. He would stand in water even in the coldest winter, worshipping the Sun with hands uplifted. One day, as he stood in the Ganges chanting his hymn to the Sun, a baby rat dropped into his hands from the talons of a hawk flying overhead. The Sage gave the wee creature to his wife and asked her to rear it.

"Rear a ratl" exclaimed his wife, laughing. "What a queer idea!" 

To please her the Sage turned the rat into a beautiful little girl, for such superhuman powers he had acquired by his austerities. They had no child of their own, so the woman took great delight in rearing the child. 

The girl grew up little by little till she bloomed to womanhood, and then the Sage thought of her marriage. 

"Let the girl marry the golden Sun," said the Sage to his wife. "There is none mightier than he." 

So the Sun was summoned, but the girl asked him, "Is there no one mightier than thou, O Sun?" 

The Sun was puzzled by the question. However, he said, "The Cloud seems mightier than I, O maiden, for he can obscure my brightness." 

So the Sun was dismissed, and the Cloud summoned; but the girl said to it, "Is there no one mightier than thou, O Cloud?"

The Cloud was astounded, but after a pause it made answer. "The Wind seems mightier than I, O maiden, for he drives me whither he likes." 

So the Cloud was dismissed, and the Wind summoned; and the girl repeated the same question to it. "Is there no one mightier than thou, O Wind?" 

The Wind, too, was taken aback, but said, "The Mountain seems mightier than I, O maiden, for he can stay my blast as none else can." 

So the Wind was dismissed, and Mount Himalaya summoned; and the maiden put the same query to it. "Is there no one mightier than thou, O Mountain?"

The Mountain frowned, and thus replied. "The Rat seems mightier than I, O maiden, for he bores holes through me with his teeth." 

So the Mountain was dismissed, and a jungle Rat summoned. "Marry the Rat and be happy," said the Sage to the girl, "for he is of thine own race," and he turned her back into the rat she was at first. 

So ended the Rat's Svayamvara.

0061. The Hare in the Moon

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

Notes. This is a folktale about an animal trickster who invokes the "Hare in the Moon" as part of his trick. There is a different story from India about the hare in the moon, a Buddhist jataka story that tells how there came to be a hare in the moon. For another story about a rabbit who tricks a larger and more powerful animal, see The Hare and the Lion. For more about "lunar pareidolia" (i.e. the "man in the moon," "the rabbit in the moon," etc.), see Wikipedia. You will recognize the "Karna" ("ear") part of the hare's name in this story as in the name Karna, a hero of the Mahabharata, and also in the name Kumbhakarna, Ravana's brother in the Ramayana. This story comes from the Panchatantra tradition, and the illustration below is from a Syrian edition of the Panchatantra-based Kalila-wa-Dimna, circa 1354.

Summary: A quick-witted little hare invents a trick to drive the elephants away from the pond where the hares live.

Read the story below:

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THE HARE IN THE MOON

(Syrian Kalila-wa-Dimna)

You must have noticed in the round of the full moon something like a little animal with two long ears erect. That is what the Hindus call the Hare in the Moon.

A herd of elephants once took up their quarters by a lake near which dwelt a colony of hares, and many of these little creatures were crushed to death under their feet. The survivors, loath to depart from their ancient home, were in great despair.

One saucy little hare, however, volunteered to drive the intruders away. He waited for an opportunity, and when he saw the leader of the herd, a fine big four-tusker, disporting himself in the lake, he coolly walked up and thus addressed him: “O Chatur-danta (Four-Tusked One), how dare you stir up and muddy the waters of this sacred Lake of the Moon? I am Lamba-Karna (Long-Eared One), the Hare in the Moon, come down to warn you of the consequences of this impiety.”

The full Moon had just disclosed itself, and its image was seen quivering in the agitated waters.

“Do you not see the Moon herself, down by your wicked feet!” continued Lamba-Karna, nothing daunted. “Beware of her resentment!”

Chatur-Danta, the four-tusked rogue, scarce troubled even to glance at the hare, and went on gamboling in the water.

“What! Still bent on troubling her sacred waters?” said the hare again. “Tarry no more, for if once your leg is in her grip she will give you cause to rue it!”

The elephant at last grew alarmed. He looked down at his feet, and indeed the Moon was there already, not one alone, but multiplied a hundred-fold! He jumped back in fright half-a-dozen yards, but the Moon still followed him as if to catch him by the leg.

“Alas for my folly! There's the Moon!” cried the elephant, and then turned up his trunk and stampeded, followed by the whole herd.

The hares were no longer molested and lived in peace ever after.

Before the hare the tusker quails: No need for Strength when Wit prevails.

0048. The Wedge-Pulling Monkey

From The Panchatantra of Vishnu Sharma, translated by Arthur W. Ryder, online at: The Gold Scales.

Notes. Compare the Aesopic fable of the monkey who imitated the fishermen. The illustration below is from the Directorium Humanae Vitae, a medieval collection of stories in Latin which ultimately derives from the Indian Panchatantra; you can learn more about that at Wikipedia.

Summary: A monkey foolishly plays with a log-and-wedge left behind by the carpenters.

Read the story below:

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THE WEDGE-PULLING MONKEY

(Directorium Humanae Vitae)

Death pursues the meddling flunkey:

Note the wedge-extracting monkey.

There was a city in a certain region. In a grove nearby, a merchant was having a temple built. Each day at the noon hour the foreman and workers would go to the city for lunch.

Now one day a troop of monkeys came upon the half-built temple. There lay a tremendous anjan log, which a mechanic had begun to split, a wedge of acacia-wood being thrust in at the top.

There the monkeys began their playful frolics upon tree-top, lofty roof, and woodpile. Then one of them, whose doom was near, thoughtlessly bestrode the log, thinking: "Who stuck a wedge in this queer place?" So he seized it with both hands and started to work it loose. 

Now what happened when the wedge gave at the spot where his private parts entered the cleft, that, sir, you know without being told.

Meddling should be avoided by the intelligent. 

0040. The Camel Driver, the Snake, and the Fox

From Tales within Tales adapted from the Fables of Pilpai by Arthur N. Wollaston, online at: Hathi Trust.

Notes. You will see that this story is a variant on the story of the brahmin, the tiger, and the jackal, which you can read here: The Brahmin and the Tiger, a much longer version with six judges of the dispute.

Summary: A camel-driver rescues a snake from a fire, and is surprised by the snake's ingratitude.

Read the story below:

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THE CAMEL DRIVER, THE SNAKE, AND THE FOX

(Indian fox)

A camel-driver, wandering across the desert, chanced to come to a spot where the people of a caravan had lighted a fire, which, after they had left, began by degrees to spread, till at length the whole locality round about became enveloped in flames. A huge serpent, finding himself in sore straits, begged of the camel-driver to save him. The kindly man consented, whereupon, with the basest ingratitude, the snake made ready to bite his deliverer, alleging in defence that he was only acting according to the custom of mankind.

The camel-driver questioned this contention, whereupon the snake, looking around and seeing a buffalo, begged of him to state his opinion. The creature readily assented, and, to the astonishment of the camel-driver, proclaimed that personal experience pointed to the assumption that men were always wont to return evil for good; at any rate, such had been his own experience.

The snake once again agreed to another arbitrator, and selected a tree, which proclaimed that base ingratitude on the part of mankind had been his fate, ever since he was a sapling.

A fox happening to pass by, joined in the conversation, and, hearing the man's account of what had occurred, incontinently accused him of deviating from the truth, inasmuch as a snake of such a size could not creep into a bag so utterly incapable of holding him.

"If you do not believe this,'" cried the snake, " I will at once re-enter the sack."

No sooner said than done; whereupon the crafty fox, turning round to the camel-driver, pointed out that his enemy was in his power. In a few moments the heel of his foe crushed out life from the unsuspecting and too confiding snake, who learned, but somewhat late, that it is never well to be deceived by the treachery of soft-speaking foes.

0037. The Terrible Bell

From The Book of Good Counsels (Hitopadesha) by Edwin Arnold with illustrations by Gordon Browne, online at: Hathi Trust.

Notes. Although there is not a real goblin (rakshasa) in this story, you can read more about rakshasas at Wikipedia.

Summary: Is there a goblin in the woods or not? A wise woman finds out the truth.

Read the story below:

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THE STORY OF THE TERRIBLE BELL

(Gordon Browne)

A thief had stolen a bell from the city, and was making off with that plunder, and more, into the Sri-parvata hills, when he was killed by a tiger. The bell lay in the jungle till some monkeys picked it up, and amused themselves by constantly ringing it. 

The townspeople found the bones of the man, and heard the noise of the bell all about the hills; so they gave out that there was a terrible goblin there, whose ears rang like bells as he swung them about (so they called him "Swing Ear"), and whose delight was to devour men. Everyone, accordingly, was leaving the town, when a peasant woman named Karala, who liked belief the better for a little proof, came to the Rajah.

'Highness!' she observed, 'for a consideration I could settle this Swing Ear goblin.'

'You could!' exclaimed the Rajah.

'I think so!' repeated the woman.

'Give her a consideration forthwith,' said the Rajah.

Karala, who had her own ideas upon the matter, took the present and set out. Being come to the hills, she made a circle, and did homage to Gunputtee [Ganesha], without whom nothing prospers. Then, taking some fruit she had brought, such as monkeys love extremely, she scattered it up and down in the wood, and withdrew to watch. 

Very soon the monkeys finding the fruit, put down the bell, to do justice to it, and the woman picking it up, bore it back to the town, where she became an object of uncommon veneration.