The Pancatantra

by Visnu Sarma

  The queen’s face, as she heard it all, blossomed with joy. With her face wreathed in smiles and her whole body thrilling with delight, she walked quickly to the king and addressed him, ‘My lord, your prosperity waxes; indeed, you are blessed. The blessed Lord Viṣṇu Himself visits our darling daughter, nights. He has made her his bride by the Gandharva mode of marriage. Tonight, you and I shall see him with our own eyes: in the stillness of midnight we shall stand concealed in the window niche. But He does not exchange words with ordinary mortals.’

  Hearing this the king’s heart was close to bursting with joy. He passed the day with great difficulty, a day that seemed to stretch out like a hundred years. When night fell, he and the queen ensconced themselves secretly in the window niche with their eyes fixed on the sky. And as they waited, they saw a form descending from the sky; mounted on the divine Garuḍa, and appearing in the guise of Lord Viṣṇu; bearing all the emblems attributed to the Lord; holding in His four hands the lotus, the conch, the discus and the mace. Everything was as Lord Viṣṇu is depicted and described.

  Happiness flowed through the king’s whole frame; he felt as if he had been immersed in a pool of divine ambrosia. Turning to the queen, he said, ‘My queen, who in this whole wide world is more blessed than you or I, for the Supreme Lord Viṣṇu himself waits in love on our beloved child. All the hopes and desires that we cherished deep in our hearts for her, are now completely fulfilled. Further, through the greatness of our son-in-law, I can now bring the entire earth under my royal sway.’

  At this juncture, the emissaries of Emperor Valorous,23 Overlord of the South, who ruled over nine times ninety lakhs24 of villages, arrived at the capital of Princess Charming’s father, to collect the annual tribute due to their master. The king, however, puffed up with pride at having obtained Lord Viṣṇu Himself as his son-in-law, did not receive the emissaries with the respect they merited and the customary honours due to them. Vexed by the treatment they received, the emissaries complained indignantly, ‘O king, the stipulated date for rendering tribute due to our emperor is long past. Does this mean that Your Majesty is withholding the tribute due to the emperor? It appears that Your Majesty has of late somehow come into possession of an unexpected source of power that is not of this world,’ they added with irony and continued, ‘Sir, this will surely make Your Majesty incur the wrath of Emperor Valorous, which, let us inform you, is like the blazing storm winds compounded with the poison of the dreaded serpent in the ocean depths and resembles nothing other than the Destroyer Time,25 Itself.’

  When the king, father of Princess Charming, heard this, all he said was, ‘Go to hell,’ and had them shown out contemptuously. The emissaries returned to their own land and reported all that had happened to their master, exaggerating the facts a hundred thousandfold, so as to kindle his wrath. Emperor Valorous at once had his forces assembled and lost no time in setting into motion his campaign against the rebellious vassal. He set out at the head of his fourfold army,26 surrounded by feudatory princes and his retainers. As he started, he exclaimed in great rage:

  (211) ‘This king may enter the ocean depths;

  or climb Mount Meru,27 by Indra protected;

  but, I swear, I will not fail to slay him,

  vile wretch that he is: this is my sworn oath.’

  By long, uninterrupted marches, the emperor quickly reached the eastern kingdom of Gauda; and he began laying waste his enemy’s lands. The people of the outlying regions of Gauda, who survived the carnage, fled to the capital; rushing to the palace gates they clamoured for help, cursing their king. But all this outcry did not in the least bother him.

  In the following days, when Emperor Valorous with his powerful army drew near the gates of the capital itself, the City of White Lotuses, and started laying siege to it, the council of ministers with the royal priest and leading dignitaries of the city came to the king and petitioned him, pleading, ‘Lord, a powerful enemy is at the gates, laying siege to our capital. How can Your Majesty sit unconcerned as if nothing has happened?’

  The king, perfectly at ease, answered, ‘Honourable sirs, relax, remain calm; there is no need to be agitated. I have already thought up a plan to slay this enemy; and, gentlemen, what I have in mind to destroy his power, you will all know soon enough—at dawn tomorrow.’ He then issued orders to have the city’s gateways and ramparts well-manned and heavily guarded. Then, he sent for his daughter. Receiving her with all royal honours, he spoke tenderly to Princess Charming: ‘My beloved child, banking on your husband’s prowess, we have let matters come to a point where hostilities between ourselves and our foe are already afoot. I think you had better speak to the Supreme Lord Viṣṇu, when he comes to you tonight, that in the morning our enemy ought to be destroyed.’

  When her husband came that night. Princess Charming told him what her father had said. The weaver listened to her words and then smiling indulgently, reassured her, ‘Gracious Lady, this battle of mortals! What is it but a mere trifle, of little consequence! In the dim, distant past it has been child’s play for me to slay the powerful Titans, great potentates, such as Gold Robe, my uncle, known as the Slayer, the twins, Honey and Honey-Comb, and others… thousands of them who possessed magical powers and could make themselves invincible, change shapes and so on. So go to the king and tell His Majesty, “Be of good cheer; at dawn, Viṣṇu will let fly his discus on Your Honour’s enemy and destroy him with all his forces.” Bursting with great pride, Princess Charming repaired to her father and told him what her husband had promised.

  The king, mightily pleased, summoned the guard at his chamber-door and ordered him to instruct the town-crier to make a proclamation in the city by drumbeat, to this effect: ‘In the battle tomorrow at dawn, when Valorous, the emperor, is slain, our citizens may keep as their own, whatever they are able to find and seize by themselves in the enemy’s camp: grain, gold, elephants, horses, weapons and other treasures.’

  When the citizens heard this proclamation made by drumbeat, they were transported with joy and they talked among themselves, ‘O, how powerful is our lord, the king. Look how he stands firm, calm and collected, even when the mighty army of the enemy stands outside our city gates. There is not a shred of doubt that our king will annihilate the enemy forces in the morning.’

  And here in the palace, our weaver, all thoughts of love-making fled, sat deeply despondent, pondering over the critical situation he was in; and taking counsel with himself, he meditated, ‘O, Lord, what should I do now? I could simply get into my flying machine and fly away somewhere; in that case, I lose this pearl among women, my bride, forever. And on top of it, Valorous, victorious in battle, will kill my poor father-in-law, enter the royal apartments and carry off my wife. That must not be. Therefore, I have to accept the challenge and do battle. Death is certain and with it the extinction of all my hopes and desires. In any case, it is death to lose my bride and live without her. Why go on like this? Either way, it is certain death. Think no further; better choose the best way; do what is noble and worthy. Moreover, it is quite possible that the enemy, seeing me in the guise of Lord Viṣṇu and mounted on the divine Garuda, may think it is the god himself in person, and flee in terror—who knows! And is it not aptly said:

  (212) In danger or dire straits, or in misery,

  the great and noble should ever courage display.

  Raised high by daring, undaunted,

  they surmount hardship with hardihood.’

  When the weaver had come to the decision that he would stand and fight, the divine bird, son of Vinatā,28 went at once to Lord Viṣṇu, abiding in the Realms of Light, known as Vaikuṇṭṭa, and spoke, ‘Great Lord, there is a great city on earth, known by the name of White Lotuses. There, a weaver, assuming the guise of Your Divine Self, loves the daughter of the king. The sovereign of the southern lands, who is far more powerful than the king who rules in the City of White Lotuses, has arrived at the capital to extirpate this king. The weaver on his part, stands firmly
resolved to aid his father-in-law. Now, I am putting this forward: if the weaver is killed in this battle, then it will be bandied around in the world of mortals, that Lord Viṣṇu was killed in battle by the Overlord of the Southern lands. Lord, if such rumours persist in the world of mortals, what will follow is that the performance of sacrifices and other religious rites and ceremonies will disappear off the face of the earth. Heretics will be encouraged to destroy temples and shrines. The devotees of the Lord and the mendicants who bear the triple staff will forsake their religious orders and observances. In view of these possible developments, it is for the Lord to pronounce His decision.’

  Then Lord Viṣṇu having reflected deeply on the matter, turned to Garuḍa and addressed him in solemn tones. ‘O, King of Birds, you have spoken well; now, hear me. This weaver has a spark of divinity in him. Further, it is ordained that he will be the slayer of the powerful monarch Valorous. The only way to accomplish that purpose is this battle; and you and I have to aid the weaver. Therefore a part of me shall enter his mortal frame: you should infuse part of your divine power into his wooden bird-mount and my discus should impart part of its power into his fake-discus.’ Garuḍa answered readily, ‘So be it.’

  In the meantime, on earth, the weaver inspired by Lord Viṣṇu, instructed Princess Charming, ‘Gracious Lady, now that I am all prepared and ready to do battle, see that all arrangements for the auspicious ceremonies performed on the eve of battle, are made.’

  The weaver was dressed in full battle-array. The mark of victory made with red sandal-paste was placed on his forehead; prayers were offered, the gods honoured, and the hero’s sanctified offering for victory made up of yellow orpiment, black mustard seeds, flowers and other auspicious articles was accepted by the weaver.

  Dawn appeared. The thousand-rayed god, the sun, gracious friend to lotuses, rose, shining like a bright jewel set on the bridal forehead of the eastern sky. Martial trumpets rent the air; battle drums sounded roll after thunderous roll rousing all hearts, setting them thirsting for victory; and the king of Gauda rode out of the city through the great gateway to take his appointed place on the battlefield, where the two opposing armies were already drawn up in battle formation. The foot soldiers went into action first.

  At that moment, the weaver mounted his bird-vehicle and from the terrace of the palace that glowed bright as moonlight, he scattered largesse, as was customary, on the crowds gathered in the square below: gold and silver coins, precious jewels and other articles of value. Watched by the citizens with unbounded curiosity, the weaver riding his bird then flew straight up into the vault of the sky, cheered by the people who paid homage to him. He circled the city and then sped towards the battlefield. Poised over his army, the weaver put Lord Viṣṇu’s magnificent conch to his lips and blew hard.

  One blast of that conch was enough to strike terror into the enemy’s army. Elephants and horses and the great princes who rode them, warriors in chariots, foot soldiers, all reeled in fear and confusion, repeatedly voiding urine and excrement. Some, unable to endure the torment, fled the field shrieking as if they were demented; others fell in a dead faint, or rolled on the ground; yet others stood transfixed in terror, their eyes riveted on the sky.

  All the Immortals arrived on the scene, consumed by curiosity, to view this strange battle. The Lord of the Immortals, amazed, then spoke to Brahmā, the Creator. ‘Lord, is this some mighty war with Titans and powerful enemies of the gods, that the Supreme Lord Viṣṇu Himself is present here to do battle, mounted on Garuda, the foe of serpents?’

  Thus addressed, the Creator reflected:

  (213) ‘Never will Viṣṇu let fly on mortals

  His discus red with the blood it has drunk

  striking the foes of the Immortal Gods.

  The lion will never use his mighty paw

  that fells great tuskers, to swat flies.

  ‘Then, what strange occurrence is this?’ And the Creator Himself was lost in wonder, which is why I said previously:

  (214) Even the Creator does not see through

  a well-devised piece of fraud.

  For the weaver in Viṣṇu’s guise,

  did indeed embrace the princess.

  As the gathered Immortals watched with mounting curiosity, the weaver flung his discus, which cut Emperor Valorous in two and immediately returned to the weaver’s hand. Aghast at this, all the kings and princes who were allies of the emperor leaped off their mounts and chariots and fell prostrate before the Viṣṇu-form; their heads and knees, their arms and hands were bent low in obeisance as they implored the victor: ‘Lord, a leaderless army is lost. Bearing this in mind, spare our lives. Command us. Tell us what is expected of us, now.’

  To that whole vast princely host pleading in such words, the Viṣṇu-form spoke reassuringly: ‘Let Your Lordships have no fear from this moment. Whatever this king, Strong Armour of Gauda commands you to do, do that, obeying him at all times unhesitatingly.’

  ‘We shall, Lord,’ answered all the princes gathered there, willingly accepting the command of the Viṣṇu-form.

  Thereupon, the weaver bestowed on King Strong Armour all the enemy’s possessions: men, elephants, horses, chariots, and various other treasures. Having done that he lived happily ever after with the princess, enjoying all imaginable pleasures.

  ‘And this is why I say, “Once a man has made his decision…” and so on and so forth,’ observed Wily.

  Whereupon Wary observed, ‘Why, in that case, if Your Honour is such a man, one who has made his decision, go ahead; work towards accomplishing our cherished goal; and good luck.’

  Wily then took his leave and sought an audience with Tawny. Having bowed low, he seated himself in his appointed place. The lion then addressed him, ‘Your Honour, how is it that we have not seen you around for a long time now?’

  ‘My lord, some urgent business that touches our lord and master closely, has come up today,’ replied Wily. ‘Though it is an unpleasant piece of information, I have come here to acquaint His Majesty of it because it concerns his well-being. To be the bearer of bad tidings is never the wish of royal retainers; rather, it is the fear that through neglect timely action might not be undertaken to deal with the situation, that makes them speak. For it is aptly said:

  (215) Men holding high office in the state

  speak when questioned, if they are well-wishers;

  out of loyalty to the master,

  that springs from excess of affection.

  ‘Further:

  (216) It is easy to find men, O King,

  who always speak what is only pleasant to hear.

  But one willing to speak, or listen to what is wholesome,

  though unpleasant—Ah! That man is hard to find!’

  Because Wily seemed to speak with such earnestness, Tawny enquired of him most courteously, ‘What is it that Your Honour wishes to speak to me about?’

  Wily answered with alacrity, ‘Ah! My lord, it is about Lively. Having succeeded in gaining your complete trust, he now has designs upon your life, which on occasion he has conveyed to me in secret because of the great trust he reposes in me. He has spoken thus, “Listen, I have scrutinized the strengths and weaknesses of your master and gauged the state of his Three Powers29 as well. I plan therefore to kill him; I can seize his sovereignty for myself with the utmost ease.” This is the day Lively has picked to carry out his plan. As you are our hereditary lord and master, I have hastened to acquaint Your Highness with this.’

  Tawny remained speechless at this, stunned by the terrible blow that had hit him like a bolt of lightning. Having correctly grasped Tawny’s state of mind from his appearance, Wily continued, ‘Alas! This is indeed the worst evil that can spoil a chief minister’s career. How true is the saying:

  (217) When minister or monarch climbs to dizzying heights

  Goddess Fortune stands on both feet holding them up—

  A load unendurable for a woman—

  Alas! She lets go of
one or the other.

  ‘For, indeed:

  (218) A broken thorn, a shaky tooth, a wicked minister—

  O, what a blessed relief to pull them out by their roots.

  ‘And again:

  (219) When monarchs place a single minister

  sole authority in matters of state,

  he waxes proud, infatuated with power;

  pride breeds scorn for service under another;

  scorn provides a foothold deep in his heart

  for the craving to win independence;

  and for that independence’s sake,

  he practises against his master’s life.

  ‘As it is, my lord, Lively manages the business of the state as he pleases, without let or hindrance. Therefore, it is in the fitness of things that:

  (220) A minister however faithful at heart

  who in the course of his duties, rides roughshod

  over obligations to consult with his lord,

  is not to be looked upon with favour

  by a king concerned for his own future well-being.

  ‘But such is the nature of rulers that:

  (221) Those who do good out of affection sincere

  yet somehow earn unpopularity;

  others who do harm by practising guile

  gain nothing less than full-throated acclaim.

  The wavering moods of princes failing to find

  a stable resting-place, elude our grasp;

  the nature of service, the duties thereof

  inscrutable in the extreme, are ever

  beyond reach of even seer or sorcerer.’

  Tawny having listened to Wily’s comments, replied, ‘After all, Lively is my servant. How can he possibly entertain any hostility towards me?’

  Wily retorted with some asperity, ‘He may be a servant, or he may be not; that proves nothing one way or the other. Indeed it is aptly said:

  (222) There can be no royal functionary

  who does not aspire to royalty;

  so long as he has no power of his own,