‘But, oh muni,’ said the barber slyly, ‘I have saved some beautiful pieces of cloth that you can take to wrap your books of learning in, and I have saved up money for scribes to make beautiful copies of these books.’
The chief monk could not resist this offer, and agreed to visit the barber’s house with some of the others. How true it is that even such a one as a Jain muni, who has given up the world, wanders naked across the earth and eats out of his cupped hands, may be moved by desire!
The barber ran home and placed a big wooden stick behind his door. He then stood waiting for the monks to arrive. As soon as all the monks were inside, he locked the doors of his house and, picking up the stick, began beating his guests about the head. The monks began to scream and shout as loudly as they could so that their cries reached the watchmen on duty at the city gates. ‘What is that frightful howling?’ cried the chief watchman, and ran with his men towards the noise.
They broke down the door of the barber’s house, and rescued the poor monks, some of whom had blood pouring down their faces. The watchmen arrested the barber and hauled him to the judges. ‘Why did you beat up the monks in this cruel and wicked manner?’ asked the judges.
‘I saw the merchant do it,’ cried the barber. ‘I saw him kill a monk!’
The judges ordered that the merchant be fetched before them. ‘Did you kill a monk?’ asked the judges severely of the merchant when he appeared.
Manibhadra then told the judges the whole story—of his dream, the appearance of Padmanidhi, and how the monk turned into a pile of gold and precious stones. At this the judges let the merchant go, but declared the barber guilty and sentenced him to a long, long time in prison.
When the barber had been taken away, the judges shook their heads and said,
Let no man in our town behave as
foolishly as did the barber
Who pursued a course of action
He had not fully understood,
Nor sufficiently investigated,
And the consequences of which
He had considered not at all.
Give every action due consideration
Think carefully, and learn all you can about a situation
Do not jump to conclusions without full information
Or cruel remorse will be your lot
As happened in the case of the brahmin’s wife and the mongoose.
‘Oh, and how was that?’ asked Manibhadra.
So the judges told him the story of the brahmin’s wife and the mongoose.
The Story of the Brahmin’s Wife and the Mongoose
In a certain town, there lived a brahmin called Devasharma. One day, his wife gave birth to a baby boy. The same day, a female mongoose also gave birth to a little pup, but died in the process. The brahmin’s wife saw the orphaned little pup, and being a kind-hearted woman, she picked up the tiny creature and brought him home with her. She looked after the baby mongoose as tenderly as she looked after her own son. The mongoose, too, looked upon the human family as his own.
But though the brahmin’s wife loved the little mongoose, she did not trust it. ‘After all, it is a mongoose, an animal that by nature preys on others. What if it turns upon my little son one day and hurts him?’ she would worry.
One day, she laid her baby to sleep in his cradle, and picking up her water pot, went off to the well to fetch some water. Before she left, she said to her husband, ‘I am going down to the well. While I am gone, keep an eye on our son and make sure the mongoose does not harm him.’ But the brahmin, who was keen to collect the day’s alms, paid no heed to his wife’s words and left the house as soon as she did.
It so happened that while both the brahmin and his wife were away, a huge black cobra slithered into the house. The mongoose recognized the cobra as a dangerous creature, and determined to protect his baby brother, attacked the snake. The snake, huge though it was, was no match for the mongoose—the mongoose killed the snake and tore it into little pieces.
Just then the brahmin’s wife returned from the well. The mongoose, glad to hear the sound of her footsteps, ran to welcome her. He wanted to show her how well he had protected his little brother. But the mother, seeing the mongoose’s mouth and snout covered in blood, screamed in panic, ‘This evil creature has killed and eaten my son!’ And she threw the heavy water pot at the poor mongoose, killing him instantly. Weeping and wailing, she went into the house and ran to her son’s cradle—to see that her son lay sleeping peacefully, while on the floor by his cradle lay the pieces of the dead cobra. She now realized what she had done. Overcome by grief and remorse at having killed the mongoose, she began to weep anew.
As she lay weeping on the bed, her husband, the brahmin, returned with the day’s takings. ‘Oh, you greedy man,’ cried his wife. ‘You did not listen to me! If you had waited till I returned, this would not have happened. Now I have killed this mongoose that was as a second son to us! Now suffer the grief of losing a child! Don’t you know, excessive greed causes the wheel to spin upon your head!’
‘And how would that be?’ asked the brahmin, mystified.
So his wife told him the story of Chakradhara, the man with the wheel upon his head.
The Story of the Man with the Wheel upon His Head
In a town far away, there once lived four young men, good friends and all extremely poor. One day, the four friends sat talking amongst themselves.
‘Poverty is a great curse,’ said one.
‘It is better to live in a forest full of wild animals, to sleep on the hard ground and wear clothes made of tree bark, than to live in this town in such abject poverty!’ said another.
‘No one likes a poor man!’ said the third.
‘It is time that we too made some money!’ declared the fourth.
‘And how shall we do that?’ asked the first.
The four friends pondered the various ways in which money could be acquired.
‘We can find jobs, work for the king.’
‘Or we can teach.’
‘Or we can become farmers and grow crops and sell them.’
‘Or we can become bankers and moneylenders, and deal in the wealth of others to make our own.’
‘Or we can become traders, and buy and sell goods.’
‘Or we could travel, and seek our fortune in foreign lands.’
After some discussion, they decided that the last option was the best. And so, saying goodbye to their families and leaving behind their old, familiar town, the four friends set off into the world to seek their fortunes.
Soon they reached the city of Avanti, where flows the sacred Sipra river. They bathed in the river, and offered puja at the great temple there. As they stepped out of the temple, they saw coming towards them a yogi, called Bhairavananda. They greeted him with reverence, and accompanied him to his hermitage. When they arrived there, the yogi asked, ‘Where are you coming from? Where are you going? And why?’
‘We are going to seek our fortunes,’ replied the four friends. ‘We will travel till we find wealth or till we die—that is our firm resolve. We have heard that you have great and magical powers. So please tell us what we must do to make money. We are willing to do whatever is required—to search in the bowels of the earth, to summon spirits and ghosts to help us, to recite spells in cremation grounds, or even offer human sacrifice. Just tell us what we must do to grow rich.’
Bhairavananda, moved by their earnest entreaties, took pity on them, and gave to each of them a quail feather and said, ‘Walk northwards, towards the great Himalayas, and watch where your quail feathers fall. Wherever your feather touches the ground, there you will find your treasure. Dig it up, and, taking it with you, return home.’
The four friends took their quail feathers and set off towards the Himalayas. After weeks and weeks of walking, as they neared the mountains, the feather held by the first friend fell to the ground. He stopped and began to dig at the spot where the feather had fallen—to find a rich vein of copper. ‘Look, t
he ground is all copper,’ he cried. ‘Let’s take all the copper we can and return home!’
‘What use is copper to us?’ replied the others. ‘Come, leave this, and let’s carry on.’
But the first friend replied, ‘I am quite content with my find, and will go back home with the copper. I do not wish to go any further, but the rest of you may do as you please.’ And true to his word, he dug up as much copper as he could carry and returned home.
The other three friends then continued on their way. They had walked only a short distance when the feather held by the second friend floated to the ground. He stopped and began to dig the ground, to find a store of silver. ‘Friends, look at all this silver,’ he called. ‘Let’s take as much silver as we can carry and return home.’
But the other two replied, ‘Friend, we first found a vein of copper, and now a store of silver. If we carry on, we are sure to find gold. You may be happy with the silver, but as for us, we will travel further.’ And leaving their friend behind, the other two carried on walking. The second friend dug up as much of the silver as he could carry and returned home.
The remaining two friends had walked only a little way when the feather held by the third friend fell to the ground. Delighted, the third friend began to dig, and sure enough, it was gold that he found there. ‘Come, take as much gold as you want and let us return home,’ he said to the other. ‘There is nothing more valuable than gold in the world and this will surely make us rich.’
But the fourth friend refused. ‘You fool, you don’t understand anything. We found copper, then silver, and now gold. The fourth feather will definitely lead us to a mine of precious jewels! So don’t waste your time here. Let’s carry on walking.’
‘No, I don’t wish to go any further, I am quite content with the gold,’ replied the third friend. ‘But if you wish to carry on, then go ahead. I will stay here and wait for you.’
No matter how much he tried to convince him, the third friend would venture no further. So the last friend decided to carry on alone. He walked and walked. The sun beat down furiously upon him so that, tired and thirsty, he grew disoriented with the heat and wandered off the path the yogi had shown them. After a long time, when he thought he could walk no more and must surely collapse, he saw sitting upon the path a man drenched in blood, and upon whose head there whirled a large wheel.
‘Who are you, and why do you sit here in this manner beneath this whirling wheel?’ he asked, going up to the man. ‘Is there any stream or well close by where I may quench my thirst?’
The words were barely out of his mouth when the whirling wheel left the strange man and flew up to fix itself on top of his own head. ‘What is this? Why is this wheel now whirling upon my head?’ he cried in fear.
‘This is exactly how it came to settle upon my head,’ replied the strange man. ‘I became Chakradhara, the wheel-bearer, and now that title is yours.’
‘Then tell me how I must rid myself of this wheel,’ cried the fourth friend. ‘It is causing me great pain.’
‘Only when someone like you comes along with a magic quail feather in his hand and stops to speak to you as you did to me will the wheel leave your head as it did mine. It will then fix itself to the head of the newcomer, as it has fixed itself to yours. The newcomer will then become Chakradhara, and you will be free,’ replied the man.
‘How long did you have to sit here with the wheel upon your head?’
‘Tell me, who is king on earth these days?’
‘King Vatsa of the Bamboo Flute!’ replied the fourth friend, who had now become Chakradhara.
‘Hmm, I cannot tell you exactly how long I have been here, but it seems that thousands of years have passed since I came here, tormented by poverty and carrying a magic quail feather in my hand, just like you. Upon reaching here, I too had seen a fellow with this wheel upon his head, and, like you, I had gone up to him. As soon as I had spoken to him, the wheel had left him and affixed itself to me.’
‘Sitting here, trapped under this wheel, how did you get food to eat and water to drink?’ asked Chakradhara in despair.
‘Oh, you need not worry about all that,’ replied the man. ‘This trap has been set by Kubera, the god of wealth, to make sure that men bearing magic feathers do not find his treasure. Any man caught by this wheel feels neither hunger nor thirst, nor does he age nor fall ill. The only torment in his life is the wheel itself, whirling for eternity upon his head.’ Then, thanking him for releasing him from the torture and saying goodbye, the man left.
Meanwhile, the third friend—let us call him Suvarnasiddhi, or ‘he who has found gold’, had been waiting by the hoard of gold. When some days had passed and the other had still not returned, he grew worried and set off in search of his friend. Following his friend’s footprints, he soon came to the spot where Chakradhara sat, covered in his own blood, with the wheel whirling upon his head. Seeing his friend’s state, his eyes filled with tears. ‘My dear friend, what has happened to you? How come you are in this state?’
‘Fate and bad luck,’ replied Chakradhara, and told his friend all that had happened.
‘Ah, my friend, I did tell you not to persist in going further, but you would not listen,’ said Suvarnasiddhi sadly. ‘You are educated and learned, but you lack discernment. It has been said, and truly so, that common sense is greater than book-learning. Learning without good sense is of no use—it leads only to death and destruction, as in the case of the learned men who had no common sense.’
‘Oh, and how was that?’ asked Chakradhara.
So Suvarnasiddhi told him the story of the learned men who had no common sense.
The Story of the Learned Men Who Had No Common Sense
In a certain town, there lived four young men. Of them, three were great scholars and had much learning, but they had no common sense. The fourth, who was called Subuddhi, had little learning, but he was clever in the ways of the world. One day, the four of them decided to set out together to see the world and seek their fortunes. They decided to travel east, towards the rising sun.
After walking for a while, the eldest amongst them said, ‘Friends, the fourth one of us here is a fool. He has no scholarship and no learning. He can’t hope to earn a king’s favour or acquire any wealth only with common sense. I will not share any wealth I acquire with him. So it is best that he returns home.’
The second one agreed with the first and said, ‘Yes, Mr Common Sense, go back home. You are no scholar, Subuddhi. You have no place here with us!’
The third friend disagreed and said gently, ‘No, no, this is not right. We have been friends since childhood. Let Subuddhi come with us. And how does it matter if we give him a part of the wealth we acquire? Let him have a share. After all, it is only the narrow-minded and mean who say, “This is mine; that is yours.” The generous and large-hearted make no such distinctions.’ The others made no more objections, and the four friends continued on their way.
Their path lay through a dense forest, and as they made their way through the trees, they came across a pile of bones upon the forest floor. ‘Aha, here’s a chance to see how much we really know,’ remarked one, gazing at the bones. ‘These are the bones of a dead animal. I will gather them together, and then let us see if we can bring this creature back to life.’ And so saying, he sorted the bones and assembled them into a skeleton.
The second scholar now stepped forward and covered the skeleton with muscle, blood, flesh and skin.
The third scholar stepped forward and was about to breathe life into it when Subuddhi stopped him and said, ‘Friend, you do realize that this dead creature you have recreated is a ferocious lion? If you should bring it back to life, it will kill all of us.’
‘You fool! I cannot deny what I know! How can I not use the skill that I possess? I will give life to this lion, no matter what you say!’ replied the third man indignantly.
‘All right then, do as you wish—but wait a little, let me first climb this tree nearby!’ replied Su
buddhi, and scrambled up the tallest tree he could see.
As soon as Subuddhi was safely up the tree, the third scholar brought the lion back to life. The lion rose up with a mighty roar and, seeing the three men in front of him, killed them instantly. Subuddhi waited till the lion had left, and then climbing quickly down from the tree, made his way home as fast as he could.
‘And that is why I say,’ said Suvarnasiddhi, ‘that common sense is more important than learning. You too, Chakradhara, for all your learning and knowledge, had no common sense. That is why you are in this mess.’
‘Oh no, your reasoning here is faulty,’ replied Chakradhara. ‘I am in this mess not because of my lack of good sense, but because fate was against me. Even those with great good sense can die if fate turns against them. And if fate is on their side, even those with little wit and understanding can survive and prosper. So it was with the fishes and the frog.’
‘Oh, and what happened to them?’ asked Suvarnasiddhi.
So Chakradhara told him the story of the two fishes and the frog.
The Story of the Two Fishes and the Frog
In a certain pond there lived two fishes called Shatabuddhi and Sahastrabuddhi. They had made friends with a frog called Ekabuddhi. The fishes were as intelligent and as discerning as their names proclaimed them to be. The frog, too, lived up to his name and made few pretensions to any practical wisdom. The three friends enjoyed each other’s company greatly, and every evening, they would sit at the water’s edge and talk of this and that.
One evening, as they sat talking, a group of fishermen passed by, carrying their nets and their catch of fish upon their heads. As they went by, they looked at the pond and said to each other, ‘We haven’t fished here before. This pond is full of fish and the water is quite shallow too. We shall come here first thing tomorrow morning.’ And determining to return at dawn, the fishermen went on their way.
Panchatantra Page 21