by Visnu Sarma
he turns on his ministers to cast blame on them.’
Tawny then interjected, ‘In these circumstances, my good friend, should Lively not be cautioned?’
‘Cautioned, my lord? Good heavens! What kind of policy is that?’ retorted Wily. For it is known that:
(250) You caution a man, and straight out of fear
he dissembles, or, he decides to strike.
Have no doubt; it is most impolitic
to caution a foe by word or by act.’
Tawny demurred, saying, ‘But… listen, Lively is a grass-eater; as for us, we are flesh-eaters. What harm can he do to us?’
‘That is the point,’ replied Wily. ‘Yes, he is a grass-eater, Lively is; and yes, Your Majesty is a flesh-eater. So, he is food; Your Majesty is the eater of that food. Besides, this fellow, if he cannot himself wreak harm, is sure to find someone who can and incite him to do so. For is it not rightly said:
(251) A scurvy fellow, though weak and powerless
can still set another on to plot against the world.
The whetstone by itself cannot cut,
but it sharpens the blade of the sword that can.’
To this argument the lion objected, ‘I cannot really see how that is possible.’
Said Wily, ‘Why, Your Majesty is perpetually battling with numerous animals: rutting bull-elephants, wild bulls, buffaloes, wild boars, tigers, leopards; Your Majesty’s body is covered by wounds and scars made by the onslaught of tooth and claw and charging horns of these creatures. As for this fellow, Lively, he is constantly at your side and he scatters his dung and urine everywhere. Out of this mixture worms will breed. Being in close contact with your body these worms will find weak points in it, wounds, fissures, breaks in the hide, to enter and bore deep inside. And then what? Your Majesty is done for. For it is said:
(252) Never grant asylum to any person
whose character is not known to you.
It was Drone’s mistake, we know,
that led to poor Crawly’s death.’
‘O, is that so?’ asked Tawny, ‘And how did that happen?’
Then Wily began the tale of Crawly, the bedbug and Drone, the wasp.
In the inner apartments of the palace of a certain king there stood a couch incomparable, furnished with all imaginable beauties and comforts. A coverlet was spread over it and at one particular spot on the coverlet lived a bedbug named Crawly.36 Surrounded by her large extended family of sons and daughters, and their sons and daughters, and sundry other kin, she bit the king when he was fast asleep and sucked his blood. Richly fed by blood she grew really plump; she was a striking bedbug indeed.
As she was living thus comfortably, one fine day, a wasp named Drone came wafted in by a breeze and dropped on the couch. Drone derived supreme satisfaction resting on that couch. Overspread with a most exquisitely fine coverlet and with double cushions, the couch felt exceedingly soft, soft as the broad, sandy banks of the river Gaṅgā; and it was perfumed with a rare fragrance. Captivated by its delightful feel, Drone hopped here and there and all over the couch and as luck would have it, at one point he encountered Crawly who was taken aback and spoke sternly, ‘Hey, you there, where have you come from? Landing like this into a residence only fit for princes, eh? Leave, get out at once.’
Drone replied, ‘O noble lady, please, please do not speak like this. For:
(253) Fire is most revered by Brāhmanas;
Brāhmanas are the most revered of all classes;
the husband is the only one revered by women:
a guest is most revered by the whole world.
‘I am your guest. Now, I have tasted the blood of all four classes: priests and teachers, warriors and rulers, merchants and traders, peasants and workers. I find their blood thin and salty, slimy and not nourishing in the least. The person to whom this couch belongs however, must have vital fluids coursing through his body that are delectable without doubt, and sweet as ambrosia. I guess his blood must be disease-free and healthful from the constant and consistent efforts of physicians to maintain the balance of the humours, wind, bile, phlegm, with the use of herbal and other medicinal infusions. It must be enriched by foods tender and moist that melt in the mouth; foods prepared from the flesh of the choicest creatures that roam the land, the seas and the air; foods seasoned with the finest blend of ginger root, black pepper, cayenne, cane-sugar and pomegranate seeds, and served. My guess is that this person’s blood is like the elixir of life. I am eager therefore to taste this sweet and fragrant substance which is bound to satisfy not only my taste buds but nourish my body as well; by your gracious favour, of course, my lady.’
‘Impossible,’ replied Crawly, ‘it is quite inconceivable that fiery-mouthed stingers such as you can be permitted to do so. Therefore, be gone; leave this couch; out. For it is rightly observed that:
(254) He who has no sense of time and place,
and of what is right and proper;
who does not know a thing beyond himself;
who acts without due deliberation;
he is a fool who reaps no reward.’
Drone fell at her feet and begged and pleaded with Crawly to grant him this great favour. Being of an exceedingly obliging nature Crawly was almost persuaded to say, ‘Yes, all right,’ when she remembered something she had heard on a prior occasion. It was like this. The short tale of Muladeva, son of Kami and prince of confidence tricksters, was being related to the king while she lay snugly ensconced in a corner of the coverlet listening; at one point Muladeva was answering the question of the maiden Devadatta, in the following words:
(255) ‘However angry, we must not spurn
one who has fallen at our feet;
in so doing we scorn all three gods,
Brahmā, Viṣṇu and Śiva.’
That clinched the matter. Crawly assented to Drone’s plea taking care to exhort him, ‘But, mind you, don’t you ever begin eating at the wrong time and in the wrong place, understand?’ she said.
‘And what, noble lady, is the right time and the right place?’ asked Drone, adding, ‘Being a newcomer, I am unfamiliar with the protocol of such matters.’
Crawly then advised him, ‘Listen, when the king’s body is overpowered by wine or fatigue, or by sound sleep, then, you may quietly bite him on his feet; that would be the proper place and the right time; is that clear?’
But alas, in the early hours of the night, the moment the king had dropped off to sleep, Drone who was a silly creature indeed and unaware of the proprieties and also terribly famished, bit the king on his back. The king was startled as if he had been burned by the fiery point bf a meteor; as if he had been touched by a live firebrand; as if he had been stung by a scorpion; he jumped up and then sat down. He felt the sore spot on his back. Turning around the king shouted to his attendants, ‘Hey there! fellows, come here, something has bitten me. Look diligently through every inch of this couch; fine-tooth-comb it until you find the insect that is hiding in my bed.’
Hearing the king’s words, Drone, terrified, scampered into an interstice in the frame of the couch and disappeared. Meanwhile, the royal attendants who had entered followed the king’s commands, hunted through the bed searching with the aid of a lamp. As fate would have it, they found Crawly clinging to the nap of the fabric. And she was killed promptly with all her family.
Wily concluded, ‘Therefore I said, my lord, “To one whose character is not known to you…” and so on. There is something else too, my lord. Your Majesty has forsaken his trusted, hereditary servants; that is wrong. For as the story goes:
(256) Whoever clasps strangers close to his heart
forsaking those in his close counsels,
will assuredly meet his death
as foolish Fierce Yowl did.’
‘Oh! What story is that?’ asked Tawny with some surprise. Then Wily began the tale of The Blue Jackal.
Once a jackal named Fierce Yowl37 lived in a cave in the outskirts of a city. One day as he w
as hunting around for food, his throat pricked with hunger, he entered the city. At once the street dogs fell upon him snapping at his limbs and jabbing with their sharp, pointed teeth. Terrified out of his wits by the savage barking, Fierce Yowl ran here and there, reeling and stumbling in his desperate attempts to escape. Finally, he rushed into the house of an artisan, where he tumbled into a huge vat of indigo dye. The dogs ran away in the direction they had come from.
The poor jackal whose alloted span of life had not yet run its full course, clambered out of the vat with much difficulty and ran back to the forest on the outskirts of the city, where a crowd of animals of various kinds, who were roaming around in the vicinity, took one look at him dyed a brilliant indigo and fled, their eyes widening and quivering in terror; and they ran crying out, ‘Ayo, ayo… what weirdly-coloured animal is this that has come into our midst?’ As they ran they talked among themselves, spreading the news. ‘What kind of creature is this… ? It has never before been seen around here…. Where has he come from… nobody knows what his strength is… or how he will act and behave…. We had better flee this forest… for as the wise say:
(257) When you do not know someone’s strength,
or his lineage and conduct,
it is not wise to trust him—
and that is in your best interests.’
Seeing all the animals fleeing from his sight, Fierce Yowl understood that they were afraid of him: he called out to them, ‘Hey there, hey, you wild creatures; why are you all fleeing in such terror? The sovereign of the gods, noticing that the wild creatures of this forest have no sovereign of their own, annointed me, Fierce Yowl, to rule over you as your lord. Come back, come and live happily in the safety of the cage of my paws, strong as thunderbolts.’
Hearing his declaration, the whole concourse of wild creatures: lions, tigers, leopards, monkeys, gazelles, hares, jackals and the rest, came forward, bowed low and paid homage to Fierce Yowl; then they addressed him: ‘Lord, prescribe to us our several duties.’
Fierce Yowl appointed the lion as his chief minister, and the tiger as chamberlain; the leopard he put in charge of the royal betel casket; made the elephant the royal doorkeeper and the monkey he designated as bearer of the royal umbrella. But, of the jackals, who were his own kith and kin, he would have none. He seized them by the throat and threw them out.
Fierce Yowl enjoyed royal glory in this manner, while the other beasts led by the lion hunted and killed and brought him food which they laid at his feet. He too following the customary manner of princes, divided the food placed before him and distributed it to the members of his court. And so the days went by pleasantly, until one day as Fierce Yowl was sitting in state in the Hall of Audience a pack of jackals nearby started howling. As soon as he heard it, Fierce Yowl’s body thrilled with delight; his eyes filled with tears of joy; and he too began howling in a shrill, high-pitched tone. The lion and other members of the court hearing it gasped in surprise and exclaimed, ‘Good Heavens! This is but a jackal.’ For an instant they stood dismayed, ashamed of themselves and looking down at the ground. They then started murmuring and muttering, ‘Listen; we have been taken for a ride by this jackal; let’s kill the scurvy fellow.’
Fierce Yowl heard this and in attempting to flee was caught by a tiger and torn to bits.
Wily concluded, ‘And that is why I say, “whoever forsakes those trusted…” and so on, my lord.’
Tawny asked Wily, ‘How then am I to recognize Lively as having designs on my life? And what would be his plan of attack?’
Wily’s answer came pat, ‘At all times, my lord, Lively comes into His Majesty’s presence humbly, limbs all drooping. If today he approaches His Majesty differently, displaying some nervousness and a readiness to thrust with his horns, then His Majesty may conclude from his behaviour that he is a deep-dyed villain.’
Wily then got up and went to seek out Lively whom he approached with slow, hesitant steps, presenting himself as somewhat dispirited. Lively seeing him in this state asked courteously, ‘Well, my friend, and how goes the world with you? You are in good spirits, I trust?’
Wily sighed, ‘Ah! Good spirits? How can dependants be ever in good spirits? Think of it:
(258) Their fortunes lie in another’s power;
tranquillity they never enjoy;
they live in fear of their very lives;
such is the fate of those who serve a king.
(259) Sorrows begin even at birth,
miseries endure after,
life led in the service of kings,
is alas, a succession of ills.
(260) Five endure living death—
so sage Vyāsa declares;
poor man, sick man, fool, exile, and he
who in perpetuity serves a king.
(261) He eats, but he’s not in sound health;
he sleeps not, yet he’s not awake;
he speaks, but not on his own ever:
Such is his life, who serves a king.
(262) ‘It is a dog’s life’ — whoever says this,
idly prates without knowing;
for a dog roams about at will,
a servant by order of the king.
(263) Living celibate, sleeping on the ground;
sparing in food—skin and bones—an ascetic’s life,
with a difference!—born and bred of sin,
is the life of one who serves a king.
(264) Stranger to his own convictions;
following another’s bent of mind;
selling his body of his own free will:
what happiness for one who serves a king?
(265) The closer he gets in serving a king,
closely observing his master’s moods,
the more a man trembles, seized with dread.
A king is fire, both alike,
and different only in name;
a burning thing men from afar can stand,
but unendurable when close at hand.
(266) What good is fine fragrance,
what good too the purest pearl,
what good is sweetest candy,
if it is gained through servitude?
‘In short, think of this:
(267) Is it the right time? Is it the right place?
Who are friends? What’s the cost, and what the gain?
And what am I? And what my power and strength?
Time and again, one should ponder over these.’
Lively listening to these words had the strong sense that Wily had some deep purpose in his mind; so he asked, ‘My friend, you seem to want to tell me something; what is it?’ To which Wily, who was waiting for exactly this kind of opening, answered, ‘Look, Your Honour is my good friend. Therefore, I ought to tell you what is for your good. The fact is, our Lord Tawny is angry with you. And this is what he said to me today, “I shall slay this Lively and feed him to the beasts of prey.” Hearing that I fell prey to the deepest dejection. Now that I have told you of this it is up to you to take whatever steps you think are needed at this point.’
These ominous words of Wily fell on Lively like a thunderbolt; he became extremely dejected. As Wily’s comments always sounded plausible, Lively was greatly troubled at heart. Seized by creeping fear, he observed, ‘Sir, you do speak truly,
(268) Women seek the love of rogues;
kings often uphold the unworthy;
money follows the miser;
the rain-god sheds his power on mountain and sea.
‘O misery! O lamentable misery! What is this calamity that has befallen me?
(269) With utmost diligence one serves one’s king—
One serves. Is that something to be wondered at?
But—that the person served turns out your foe?
A most peculiar return this—to be wondered at.
‘And further:
(270) If a person is angered for a specific cause,
remove the cause—for certain he’d then be appeased;
but i
f he harbours hate without a cause?
What hope then to appease this man?
(271) How can one not dread a villain’s fierce hate,
manifest; like a deadly snake’s venom,
it constantly drips from his lips as words,
vicious, beyond all human endurance.
(272) Many a time at nights, the silly wild goose
in search of beds of moon-lotuses is fooled,
and nibbles in vain at star-reflections on the lake:
even by day, still deluded, the poor fool
casts a suspicious eye at white lilies
mistaking them for stars, and will not nibble.
Once bitten, the world-wary, senses danger
even in sincerity and truth.
‘O! What ill luck! Have I ever committed an offence against our Lord Tawny?’
Wily replied, ‘My dearest friend, princes are always on the lookout for weaknesses in others that make them vulnerable; they take pleasure in injuring others for no good reason.’
Lively agreed, ‘Yes, my friend; that seems to be so. It is indeed excellently said:
(273) Serpents haunt sandalwood trees; in pools
where lotuses blow, lurk crocodiles too;
rogues are out to destroy virtue;
there’s no happiness unmixed with trouble.
(274) No lotus grows on mountain peaks;
no good can come out of scoundrels;
the virtuous do not suffer passion’s unease;
If you sow barley, you do not harvest rice.
(275) The best of men endowed with virtue
whose rectitude remains unbroken
bear in mind only acts good and well done,
and forget offences and oversight.
‘On the other hand, I have to regard what has happened as my own fault in that I chose to serve an insincere friend. For we hear that:
(276) One should never follow an inopportune course,
or keep undesirable company,
or serve an insincere friend; see how
the bird sleeping among lotuses
was slain by a flying arrow.’
‘O, really! And how did that happen?’ asked Wily. And Lively began the tale of The Owl and the Wild Goose.