Sarama and Her Children

by Bibek Debroy

  Deciding this, the jackal grabbed a broken end of the bow in his mouth. But as he was about to eat, the string broke, and the other end of the bow cracked against his mouth, piercing his brain. He died instantly. Concluding the story, the brahmana said that one should not be over-thirsty, that is, too greedy.

  Hearing this, the brahmana’s wife said, ‘If it is like this, then there is in my household a small heap of sesame seeds (tila). I will feed that to a brahmana, after washing the tila.’

  Her husband went off to the village he had wanted to go to. And his wife washed and crushed the tila and put it out in the sun to dry. However, the woman was engrossed with housework. A dog (sarameya) came along and urinated on the tila. This rendered the tila unfit for consumption. But the brahmana’s wife had a brainwave. She thought she would take the tila to another household and offer to give her washed tila in exchange for unwashed and dirty tila. That should be a profitable exchange for anyone. However, this was not to be.

  As soon as another housewife was about to accept the clean tila, her son remarked, ‘O mother! This tila is certainly unacceptable. Her washed tila is not to be accepted in exchange for unwashed ones. There must be some reason why she is giving washed tila for unwashed ones.’

  The story then returns to the main one. But for our purposes, dogs were common enough to loiter around households and urinate there.

  The third tantra is primarily about cows and owls. But assorted birds and animals like elephants, rabbits, snakes, cattle, ants and mice also figure. Dogs are rare. But they do merit a mention in the introductory story.

  In a huge and thick banyan tree on the outskirts of Mahilarpya in Dakshinatya, there dwelt the king of crows named Meghavarna (cloud-complexioned) with many families of crows. He had made the tree his fort. In a nearby mountain-cave, there dwelt the king of owls, named Arimardana (enemy-crusher). His fort was the cave. Every now and then, he used to come to the banyan tree, fly around it and kill any crow he found there. In this fashion, he made the outer ring of the tree-fort bereft of all crows, that is, he killed all those crows that lived in those parts of the tree.

  Threatened thus by the owls, the king of the crows called his five ministers (Ujjivi, Sanjivi, Anujivi, Prajivi, Chiranjivi) together and asked for some frank advice. Ujjivi advised sandhi, or making a deal with the enemy who was so powerful. Sanjivi advised vigraha, or fighting it out. Anujivi advised yana, or running away. Then, Prajivi came out with his advice of asana, or taking a position there. That is, staying on. He cited the following shloka as his reason:

  A crocodile, attaining his own place in the water, pulls down even an elephant. But on moving away from his own place, he is vanquished even by a dog (shuna).

  To move on with the story, Chiranjivi’s advice was samshraya, or taking the help of others. The aged Sthirajivi—who had been the minister to Meghavarna’s father—advised in favour of dvaidham, or dual conduct (double standards, deceit or trickery).

  There is a tangential reference to dogs in story no. 2 also (shasha-kapinjala-katha), which illustrates the futility of knowledge without piety. The following shloka is uttered by a wild cat! ‘Learning without a sense of piety is like the tail of a dog—it does not cover the secret parts nor gets rid of—flies and mosquitoes.’

  Finally, there is a more direct reference to a dog in the fourth story (dhurtabrahmanachhagakatha). This is the story of the crafty men, the brahmana and the goat.

  In a certain habitation, a brahmana named Mitrasharma lived by performing agnihotra sacrifices. Once, in the month of Magha, a pleasant breeze was blowing. With the sky covered by clouds, and it raining softly and gently, Mitrasharma went to another village to get a sacrificial animal. He told his client (yajamana), ‘O yajamana! I am going to make a sacrifice on the coming amavasya (moonless night). So give me an animal.’ The yajamana gave Mitrasharma a well-nourished goat. Mitrasharma placed the goat on his shoulder and left for his own village.

  There were three tricksters, famished by hunger, who happened to meet Mitrasharma on his way home. They thought they would make a meal of the goat. But to do this, they had to get Mitrasharma to give up the goat.

  One of the tricksters changed his clothes so that Mitrasharma would not recognize him. Advancing along a by-road, he overtook the brahmana and then retraced his steps so as to meet Mitrasharma along the road. ‘Hey you silly agnihotra performer!’ said the trickster. ‘Why are you doing this socially forbidden and ridiculous act of taking this unclean dog on your shoulder? It has been said that, it is well known that it is the same thing to touch a dog, cock or a man of the chandala caste, and especially a donkey and a camel. So you should not touch them.’

  Overcome by anger, Mitrasharma said, ‘O-ho! Are you blind that you see the characteristics of a dog in this animal?’

  The trickster replied, ‘O brahmana! Do not get angry. Go as you like.’

  After Mitrasharma had travelled a bit further, the second trickster advanced to meet him and said, ‘O brahmana! This is sad indeed. Although this calf seems to be dear to you, still it is not befitting to place it upon your shoulder. For, it has been said that only the misguided touch a dead body, be it human or of birds or animals. Such an act requires purification through the five products derived from cows and through penance.’

  Mitrasharma retorted angrily, ‘Hey! Are you blind—that you are calling this animal a dead calf?’

  The trickster said, ‘O lord! Don’t be angry. I said what I did out of ignorance. You do as you feel.’

  Mitrasharma advanced a little further. The third trickster came forward to meet him and said, ‘Hey! This is not right! Why are you carrying a donkey on your shoulder? Let go of it. It has been said that he who touches a donkey, knowingly or unknowingly, will have to bathe with his clothes on for the atonement of his sins. Leave it before someone sees you.’

  By now, Mitrasharma had had enough. He really thought the animal he was carrying was a donkey. He threw the animal down on the ground and ran away to his own village. The three tricksters got hold of the goat, killed it and ate it.

  Not only is a dog not the main protagonist in this story, in the first trickster’s remarks, there is a reference to a dog (and a cock) being an inferior animal, on par with donkeys and camels, to be equated with chandalas.

  In the fourth tantra, there are protagonists like monkeys, crocodiles, snakes, frogs, lizards, lions, jackals, donkeys, deer, vultures, camels, leopards and fish. This is also the only tantra where a dog is the direct protagonist. This happens in the eleventh or the last story of the tantra and this is Chitranga’s story.

  In a certain habitation, there was a dog named Chitranga (painted body). For a long time, there was famine there. The dogs began to lose their families (puppies) and began to die. Tortured by hunger and fear, Chitranga went to a different country. Entering a town in that country, he discovered a household that had been left unattended because the housewife was careless. And this happened every day. There was always some household or the other that was left unattended by the housewife.

  Chitranga ate his fill. But whenever he came out of a household, he was surrounded from all directions by packs of dogs. They ripped off parts of his body with their sharp teeth. Chitranga thought, ‘My home is better. At least, no one fought there, even if there was famine. I had better return.’

  Deciding this, Chitranga returned home. Other dogs, his friends and relatives, asked him what the foreign land was like. What were the people like? What was the food like?

  Chitranga replied, ‘The food is of many varieties and easy to get. And the women are lax. There is only one problem with the foreign land. Your own kinfolk turn against you.’

  In the fifth and final tantra, the main animals are snakes, mongooses, lions, rabbits, camels, frogs, tortoises, jackals, monkeys, crabs and birds. There is only a passing reference to a dog in story no.6.

  A washerman’s donkey named Uddhata was left free at night to wander at will. In course of this, he became friendly wi
th a fox. Together, they used to break through fences, enter farmers’ fields of cucumber, fill their bellies and then at daylight, go their own ways.

  One moonlit night, while in the cucumber field, the donkey was suddenly seized by a desire to sing. He fancied himself an expert in the ragas and did not like the fox’s telling him that he did not know how to sing. The clever fox understood his psychology and asked him to sing, while he went and stood outside the fence, watching for the keepers of the fields. As the donkey began to bray, the keepers came rushing and beat the donkey up. The keepers left the donkey with a weight hanging from his neck. The fox escaped the beating, as it was outside the field, beyond the fences.

  As soon as the keepers were gone, the donkey was up in an instant, as is the nature of his own species. The pain was gone. The donkey began to run away, in spite of the weight hanging from around his neck. The fox began to taunt him about the prize or reward the keepers had garlanded him with. It has been said that pain due to beating does not stay for more than an instant for a dog or a horse, and especially for a donkey.

  The Hitopadesha by Narayana (written between the ninth and thirteenth centuries CE) is a rehash and reordering of the Panchatantra. However, there is the occasional new story, and that of the donkey and the dog is one such, very similar to Aesop’s. This is story no. 3 in Part II (Suhridbheda) of Hitopadesha and is a story narrated by the fox Karataka to the fox Damanaka. The dog is a main protagonist in this story. And the dog is kept as a guard-dog by a washerman, not a chandala.

  In Varanasi, there was a washerman named Karpurapataka (one who made fabric smell of camphor). And he, consorting with his young wife for a long time, went to sleep embracing her tightly. After a while, a thief entered. In the courtyard, there stood a donkey tied to his post and a dog too sat there. The donkey told the dog, ‘Friend! This is your job. Why aren’t you waking up the master by barking loudly?’ The dog replied, ‘You should not criticize me. Don’t you know how I protect this house night and day? My master isn’t even aware of my utility and has become less caring about giving me food. If there are no problems, masters become less attentive towards their attendants.’ The donkey retorted, ‘You are an uncivilized creature. He who asks for payment at the time of service is a bad servant and a bad friend.’ ‘He who treats servants well only when service is required, is a bad master,’ replied the dog. The donkey thereupon decided to wake up the master and began to bray. Awakened from his sleep, the washer-man was angry, not having realized that there was a thief. He beat up the donkey with a stick and the donkey died.

  The fox Karataka now recites several couplets and some of these mention dogs. For instance, a small bone without flesh, dirtied with the remnants of nerves and sinews, cannot appease a dog’s hunger. But the dog is satisfied with that. However, the lion leaves untouched the jackal that is within his grasp and goes on to kill the elephant. Everyone wants fruits depending on their character, even if that means putting in extra effort. In another shloka, Karataka says that the dog wags its tail and falls at the feet of one who gives it a lump of food. It turns upside down on the ground and displays its stomach. But the great elephant only looks on quietly and eats after a great deal of persuasion. Identical shlokas also figure in Bhartrihari’s (seventh century CE) Neeti Shatakas.1 ‘A dog feels delighted to find the bone of a bull without any flesh or fat but this cannot satisfy his hunger. The lion would give up a hare even if it is in his lap, but he would like to kill the mighty elephant! A great person would always like to attain his goals, worthy of his greatness.’ And, ‘The dog wags his tail, and falls at the feet of any person who offers him a piece of bread. He even rolls over the ground and shows his mouth and tummy (to get more food). On the other hand, the mighty and dignified elephant does not care even to look and accepts food only when sweet words are spoken to him.’

  To return to Hitopadesha, a dog enters peripherally in yet another famous story. This is story no. 6 in Part IV (Sandhi). The story is narrated by Chakravaka (minister of the goose-king Hiranyagarbha and king of the water-birds of Karpuradvipa) to Chitravarna, king of the peacocks and king over Jambudvipa. The point is that lowly people should not be promoted beyond their own status.

  In the hermitage of Gautama, there lived a sage named Mahatapas. He saw a baby mouse being carried away by a crow. Out of his kindly nature, the sage rescued the mouse and fed it little bits of rice. The mouse grew up. But one day, a cat ran after the mouse to catch and eat it. The mouse ran into the sage’s lap for refuge and the sage converted the mouse into a cat. Later, the cat was chased by a dog and again ran to the sage for refuge. The sage turned the cat into a dog. However, the dog was chased by a tiger and ran for refuge to the sage yet again. The sage now turned the former mouse into a tiger. However, people who saw the tiger kept saying, ‘This is not a real tiger. It is a mouse that sage Mahatapas has turned into a tiger.’ The tiger thought that such remarks would follow it around as long as the sage was alive. The only way out was to kill and eat the sage. However, when the tiger attempted to do this, Mahatapas turned it into a mouse once again.

  Finally, Hitopadesha has a slight variation on the Panchatantra story of Mitrasharma. In the Panchatantra, there are references to three different animals. In the Hitopadesha, all three rogues talk about a dog. In Panchatantra, the goat was a gift. Here, it is a purchase. And finally, the Panchatantra only mentions an animal, not necessarily a goat. The Hitopadesha is clear about the animal being a goat.

  In the forest of Gautama, there lived a brahmana. The brahmana made preparations for a yajna or sacrifice. He went to a village and bought a goat. Placing the goat on his shoulder, he started on his return journey. Three rogues saw this and decided that they would rob the brahmana of his goat. They stood on the road, under the shadow of trees and at a distance of one krosha from each other. Having done this, they waited for the brahmana to pass. As the brahmana passed, the first rogue said, ‘O brahmana! Why are you carrying a dog on your shoulder?’ ‘This is not a dog, but a sacrificial goat,’ replied the brahmana. The second rogue asked the brahmana exactly the same question. This time, before answering, the brahmana took the goat down from his shoulder and placed it on the ground, observing it carefully before replying. However, by the time it came to the third rogue, the brahmana gave up, deciding that he was suffering from a delusion. He discarded the goat, bathed and went home. He bathed because he had been carrying what he thought was a dog. As for the goat, the three rogues caught it and ate it.

  The Panchatantra and Hitopadesha stories certainly drew upon Gunadya’s Brihatkatha. Brihatkatha used to be extremely popular once upon a time, and as a compilation of stories, it was probably as popular as the Ramayana or the Mahabharata. Unfortunately, Brihatkatha no longer survives. However, there were other texts that drew upon Brihatkatha and one of these was Somadeva’s Kathasaritsagara, written probably in the eleventh century CE. Kathasaritsagara has references to dogs.

  First, there is the story of Devasmita.2 Devasmita was the wife of a merchant named Guhasena, and husband and wife lived in Tamralipta. Husband and wife loved each other a lot. Guhasena wanted to travel elsewhere for trade, but Devasmita was reluctant to let her husband go. They went to a temple and Shiva gave them a pair of red lotuses, one for the husband and one for the wife. As long as they were faithful to each other, the red lotuses would not fade. But if either one was unfaithful, the red lotuses would lose their colour. Accordingly, Guhasena went off to an island named Kataha. There, he became friends with four other young merchants, who got to know about the red lotuses. They decided to seduce Devasmita and came to Tamralipta.

  Once in Tamralipta, they sought the help of an evil nun named Yogakarandika. Yogakarandika and her servant came to visit Devasmita. However, there was a chained dog (actually a bitch) outside Devasmita’s room and it would not allow the two evil women to enter. It growled at them. Devasmita sent her servant to find out what was going on and chatted to Yogakarandika, who said that she had come to visit because Devas
mita was alone and separated from her husband.

  Next day, Yogakarandika came to visit Devasmita yet again. This time, she had a lump of meat covered with pepper with her and she proceeded to feed this to the dog. Because of the pepper, tears began to stream out from the dog’s eyes and nose. At this, Yogakarandika also began to weep. Naturally, Devasmita wanted to know what was happening.

  ‘Daughter, I am crying because I saw that dog,’ Yogakarandika told Devasmita. ‘I am crying because I recognized her and she is crying because she recognized me. In our earlier lives, this dog and I were co-wives to a brahmana. Because of duties entrusted to him by the king, our husband often had to travel abroad. I decided not to deprive myself of pleasures in his absence, since one must take care of one’s senses. That is dharma. Thanks to following dharma, I have been reborn with all memories of my earlier birth intact. But this dog was faithful and as punishment, has been reborn as a dog, although it too remembers what had happened in its earlier life.’

  Devasmita saw through what was happening, but pretended not to. She evinced an interest in Yogakarandika’s proposal and asked her to send a man in the night. Meanwhile, she asked her servant to prepare a drink with dhatura seeds mixed in it and also got ready a seal with a dog’s foot marked on it. The first merchant came in the night, was served the drink and fell unconscious. He was stripped naked, stamped with the dog’s foot on his forehead and left in the streets. When he woke up, he couldn’t very well tell his friends what had happened. He kept quiet, saying he had been robbed on his way home. And he tied a bandana round his forehead to hide the mark. This was repeated with the other three. Shamed, the four merchants returned to the island named Kataha.

  But to make sure that they did not cause harm to her husband, Devasmita followed them there, in the disguise of a merchant. She complained to the king that four of her slaves had run away and were living in that kingdom. She pointed to the four merchants. ‘How can these be your slaves?’ asked the king. ‘These are four well-known merchants from my kingdom.’ Devasmita then said that she had stamped her slaves with the mark of a dog’s foot on their foreheads. Sure enough, the marks were discovered and the truth came out. Devasmita removed her disguise and was rewarded profusely by the king and his subjects. She returned to Tamralipta with Guhasena.