by Visnu Sarma
‘Even so,’ replied Little Simple, ‘even if I derive no benefit from the wealth, let me have it. For it is wisely said:
(140) A man of substance
though base-born or ill-favoured
is yet served by those who have to depend
on the charity of the good.
‘Let me point out something else; as the story goes:
(141) I have closely watched them, my dear,
now, for the five-and-tenth year.
They look floppy, yet they are firm;
they may fall off, or they may hang on.’
And the figure exclaimed, ‘Oh! How was that?’ And Little Simple began the tale of Hangballs and the Vixen.
In a certain settlement there lived, carefree, a stud-bull named Hangballs,53 who from an excess of virility abandoned the herd and became a forest-dweller. He tore up the riverbanks with his horns and browsed as his fancy took him on the emerald-green tips of lush grass.
In that very same forest there lived a jackal named Allure.54 One day as he was lying at ease on a sandbar by the river’s edge with his Wife, Hangballs came sauntering along and went down to the river for a drink of water by that same sandbar.
The jackal’s wife noticed the bull’s pendulous testicles; turning to her husband, she said, ‘Dear lord, do you see those two fleshy lumps hanging from that bull. Any minute now they will fall off; or in a couple of hours, perhaps. So, I think you should keep close to that fellow and follow him.’
The jackal replied, ‘Sweetheart, we do not know if those lumps will fall off or not. So why send me off on a wild-goose chase? I had rather stay with you here and dine off field-mice that come down to the river to drink. You know they come this way. And if I should trudge behind that bull who knows if someone else would not come and usurp my place here. So I had better not do as you say. For there is wisdom in the saying:
(142) Better hang on to something certain
than chase after the uncertain,
what was once certain may be in some doubt;
the uncertain remains just that—uncertain.’
To this the vixen replied, ‘Hm… what a coward you are! Always content with a trifle. Hm… Not the right attitude, I say: especially for a man—who should be up and about, always. For it is said:
(143) Where valour is united with wise policy
and slackness notable by its absence;
when plans are supported by energy,
there, absolute Fortune dwells with assurance.
(144) Weighing the fact that Fate is not absolute,
a man ought to press on with diligence,
How can sesame-oil be extracted
unless you press the sesame-seed.
‘And mind you, what you say about these lumps—perhaps they may drop, perhaps not—that is not right either. Surely, you have heard this:
(145) Loftiness of rank is not what counts;
men of firm resolve are worthy of praise.
Who dares say of the crested cuckoo bird,55
‘Oh! What a pitiful little creature’
Great lndra Himself serves as his water-carrier.56
‘Besides, my lord, I am truly sick and tired of mouse-flesh: furthermore, these two lumps of flesh are on the point of falling. So, it is imperative that you do not act contrary to my wishes.’
And the poor jackal obeyed her and leaving that spot where field-mice were an easy catch, he started following Hangballs. O! What wisdom do we find in the saying:
(146) Only as long as a man is not controlled
against his will by the sharp goad
of a woman’s words wounding his ear57
will he remain his own master in all that he does.
(147) Driven by the words of a woman
a man believes wrongs to be right;
thinks the hard way easy to go;
and eats what is unfit to eat.
And so the jackal spent long years wandering with his wife, following the bull. However, the bull’s balls did not fall. Finally, in the fifteenth year, through sheer despair, he said to his wife:
(148) ‘I have closely watched them, my dear,
now, for the five-and-tenth year.
They look floppy; yet they are firm:
they may fall off; or they may hang on.
‘They will not fall off in the future either. So let us go back and follow the mouse-trail.’
‘And that is why I say, “They look floppy: yet they are firm…” and the rest of it. The fact is that a man of wealth becomes an object of desire. So bestow an immense fortune on me.’
The figure then replied, ‘Well, if that is how you feel, then return to Prosperityville. There you will find two men, Closefist and Openhand, both sons of merchants. Closely watch the conduct of these two; then ask for the nature of one or the other, whichever appeals to you.’ With these words, the figure vanished into thin air. Lost in wonder, Little Simple returned once again to Prosperityville.
At sunset, Little Simple, asking around for the location of the residence of Closefist and having found it with some difficulty, finally arrived there, dog-tired. In spite of harsh denials of entry by the wife, children and others, he persisted in getting into the courtyard and sat down. At dinner-time some food was ungraciously thrust in front of him, which he ate and then lay down to sleep.
At midnight whom did he see but those same two figures who were consulting with each other; and one was saying to the other, ‘Look, friend Doer, what are you up to now, putting Closefist to the needless expense of a meal for this fellow—Little Simple? I don’t think that is right.’
The second figure responded, saying, ‘Ah! My friend, Deed, how am I to blame? I am obliged to allot the getting and the spending. However, the final outcome is in your hands.’
Little Simple, poor fellow, was now wide awake. The next morning he had to fast because Closefist was suffering from a stomach ailment for the second day running. So he left that house and proceeded to the residence of Openhand, who received him cordially, showed him great courtesy providing good food and fine clothes and a comfortable bed to sleep in right within his house.
Again at midnight, Little Simple saw those two figures arguing with each other. And the first said, ‘Hey there! Friend Doer, you see what expense you are putting Openhand to in entertaining this fellow, Little Simple? How will he repay his debt? For he has drawn everything out of the Guild-members’ Fund.’
To this, the second figure replied, ‘My friend, Deed, I have to carry out my obligations; you look after the consequences.’
Early the next morning, an officer of the king arrived at Openhand’s residence carrying a large sum of money as a gift from the king which he offered to Openhand. Watching this, Little Simple thought, This fellow, Openhand, though he does not have a single coin in the Fund is a far better person than that crabby old Closefist. Listen to the apt saying:
(149) The Sacred Fire kindled in the home
is the fruit of the Vedas.
The practice of Virtue is the fruit of learning,
love and offspring the fruit the wife brings;
Charity and the enjoyment of life
are the fruits of Wealth.
‘Therefore, Blessed Creator, make one into me who gives to others, and enjoys life as well. I see no good in watching over wealth.’
The Creator listened to his prayer and granted him his wish.
‘So, I repeat, my friend, “A man might not enjoy the wealth he earns….’” concluded Slowcoach.
‘Therefore, my dear friend, Goldy,’ continued Slowcoach, ‘Realizing these truths, don’t ever fall into despair over the matter of wealth. You know what is said:
(150) When times are good, noble hearts
are tender as lotus blossoms.
When times are bad they become hard
as the solid rock of the Great Mountain.58
‘And think of this:
(151) What effort does he make?
He is even lost in sleep; yet,
>
if it is his destined59 portion
Wealth comes; he enjoys it—
While others in endless effort struggle.
If it is not to be, it will never be.
What is to be will never perish.
Then:
(152) Why plunge into endless thought?
Why with despair plague the heart?
Whatever is written on your page60
in the Book of Life comes to pass.
‘Furthermore:
(153) No sooner has Fate’s command rung out
‘Bring it, at once’—it is done.
From some far island or mid-ocean,
or from the farthest horizon,
there, facing you stands the wish realized.
‘Besides:
(154) It joins together what is divided;
what is firmly joined it breaks apart.
It is Destiny that makes events happen;
events beyond a man’s imaginings.
(155) Sorrows come all unwished for
to all that lives in this world;
so too happiness, I guess, sometimes:
so why droop in despair?
‘Yet again:
(156) With a mind pregnant with learning
a man of courage strives to succeed one way.
But his former deeds like a master come
and dispose of his endeavours another way.
(157) He who made swans snow-white
and parrots a bright green;
who painted peacocks in brilliant hues,
He will set in order our daily round.
(158) Rolled into a lump within a basket.
his senses numbed with hunger,
a serpent lay emaciated.
A mole dropped right into his hungry jaws at night,
tumbling through the hole it gnawed to get inside.
Slithering quickly out by that selfsame path,
replete, revived by that tasty meat,
the serpent beat a hasty retreat.
‘Aware of this, you ought to think of what is best; therefore, it is wisely observed:
(159) Let some little rite be performed each day
with a tranquil mind:
a vow, a fast, an act of self-restraint.
Though all forms of life energetically strive,
Fate constantly chips away at their spirit.
‘So, consider this; contentment is your best bet;
(160) The tranquil mind happily drinks
out of Contentment’s ambrosial cup.
Where can those who run back and forth,
mad after wealth, find such happiness?
‘And besides:
(161) No penance equals patience;
no joy equals contentment;
no giving is like friendship;
no virtue equals compassion.
‘But why go on expatiating at random? Think of this place as your home. Your Honour; and free from all anxieties, with a new look on life, pray, spend your time with me here in happiness.’
Hearing Slowcoach speak such words of wisdom in accordance with the true meaning of many texts, Lightwing’s face shone with delight as he spoke with a full heart. ‘O, dear friend Slowcoach; you are a person whose fine qualities deserve to be emulated. That you have conferred this kindness on Goldy makes my heart dance with excess of joy. It is aptly said:
(162) Those who enjoy happy times,
friends with dear friends,
lovers with their beloved,
joyful with the joyous,
only they fully taste Pleasure’s quintessence,
and live life to the fullest;
they are the salt of the earth.
‘Moreover:
(163) Those who will not see that Fortune
by her spontaneous embrace
becomes an adornment of friends,
because Greed has ravaged their hearts,
are in truth poor, though they possess wealth;
they toil in vain; they are merely alive.
‘It is Your Honour who by offering salutary advice has pulled this unfortunate person out of the sea of despair in which he was drowning. How aptly observed:
(164) The good forever aid the good
in overcoming distress.
Only elephants yoked to elephants
get them out of the mire.
‘And then again:
(165) One person above all deserves high praise
in this mortal world of ours:
he who carries out to the last particle
the dictates of virtuous conduct:
from whom no suppliant turns away,
no seeker of sanctuary leaves
disappointed, his hopes shattered.
‘There is true wisdom contained in the saying:
(166) What use is that manliness that fails
to succour the distressed?
Or that wealth that is not at hand
to come to the suppliant’s help?
What good indeed is the kind of deed done
without the good of others in mind?
What good is that life
that is an enemy to Fame?’
As they were talking back and forth in this manner, a deer named Speckle61 ran in, panting with thirst, trembling from fear of the hunter’s arrows. As soon as the deer stopped there, the crow, Lightwing, flew up into a tree: Goldy, the mole, went scuttling into a clamp of reeds; while Slowcoach dived for safety into the water. Speckle stood still on the banks of the lake, greatly alarmed for the safety of his life.
Then, Lightwing flew up and having looked carefully around the terrain for a distance of a league, settled again on the tree and called out to the tortoise: ‘Friend Slowcoach, come out, come out. There is nothing around here which would pose a threat to you. I have inspected the forest carefully. There is only this deer that has run here to the lake for a drink of water.’
As he said this, all three friends gathered there. Slowcoach spoke affectionately to the deer, treating him as a guest should be treated, ‘Friend, have a drink of water, and a dip in the lake. The water here is cool and of excellent quality,’ he said.
As he accepted the kind invitation, Speckle thought to himself, ‘I feel not the slightest fear in the presence of these fellows. Why? Because, a tortoise is in his element only in water; and as for the crow and mole, they live only on dead creatures. Therefore, I think I shall become one of their company.’ And so he joined them.
Slowcoach then duly welcomed Speckle and prefacing his words with all the courtesies offered to a guest, said, ‘I trust everything goes well with Your Honour. Now, pray tell us what has brought you here, into this deep, dark forest.’
Speckle answered, ‘I have grown weary of the life that I have been leading; roaming around for pleasure and lacking commitment. Hemmed in by hunters on horseback and chased from pillar to post by hunting dogs, I put on a tremendous spurt of speed; and having left all my pursuers far behind I came bounding here to this lake for a drink of water. Now, I would like very much to be friends with Your Honours.’
‘You see, we are small, of slight build,’ observed Slowcoach, ‘it is not a good idea that Your Honour should strike up a friendship with us. For it is always advisable to make friends with those who can help you in times of need.’
Speckle’s rejoinder to this comment was:
(167) ‘Better to live in Hell, I say, with the wise and learned
than keep company with vile trash,
though these might roam in mansions bright,
of the Lord of the Immortals.
‘You say, sir, “We are small; we are of slight build,” why do you make these self-deprecatory remarks? Of course I know that it is in the nature of those noble to speak of themselves this way. I still insist that I be accepted as a friend by Your Honours. You have heard the old saying:
(168) Make friends with the powerful;
and with the powerless too:
caught in toil
s in the woods, the herd of elephants
were by tiny mice released.’
‘Oh,’ exclaimed Slowcoach, ‘and how did that happen?’ And Speckle began the tale of The Mice that freed the Elephants.
There was once a land where the people, their houses, as well as the places of worship had all fallen into decay. The mice who were old settlers in that land, occupied the chinks in the floors of mansions, with sons, grandsons, grandchildren born of daughters and the like. Successive generations of mice as they were born made their homes in that region. And they spent their days and nights in supreme comfort and happiness, enjoying themselves in a variety of activities: feasts and festivals, weddings, banquets and drink-parties, dramatic performances and the like. And so time passed.
One day, a bull-elephant, lord of a thousand elephants, came there surrounded by his herd, to drink at the lake of which he had heard much praise, that it was ever full. As he passed with his herd through Mouse Town, the mice that were in the way were trampled upon; faces, heads, necks, all crushed.
The mice that survived this disaster, now called a council of war. ‘We are being slaughtered by these vicious elephants that come lumbering through our settlement,’ they cried. ‘And they are sure to come again. In the end there will not even be a few of us left to start a new generation. As it has been aptly said:
(169) An elephant kills by a mere touch;
a serpent if he only sniffs;
a king has only to smile to kill;
a knave by simply paying honour.
‘Therefore, let us decide on an effective plan of action to cope with this crisis.’
When they had decided on a plan, a few of the mice went down to the lake, bowed to the Lord of Elephants and pleaded humbly, ‘Lord: not far from here is our settlement inherited over a long period of time and coming down in orderly succession from our forefathers. Living there we have prospered and increased over generations of sons and grandsons. Your Honours passing through our settlement on your way to the lake to water have trampled upon and destroyed thousands of our community, If Your Honours do this once more, there will not be one mouse left, not even for seed. Therefore, if Your Honours feel the slightest compassion for us, we beseech you, pray follow some other path to the lake. Sirs, please bear in mind that even creatures of our size might be of some help sometime to Your Honours.’
The lord of the herd listened to their words and recognized that there was sound sense in what the mice said and agreed to their request. ‘It shall be so; never otherwise,’ he said.