Story of the three Fish.
Of old time there were three fish in a lake near a river, one was called Anágatavidhátṛi, a second Pratyutpannamati and the third Yadbhavishya,[18] and they were companions. One day they heard some fishermen, who passed that way, saying to one another, “Surely there must be fish in this lake. Thereupon the prudent Anágatavidhátṛi, fearing to be killed by the fishermen, entered the current of the river and went to another place. But Pratyutpannamati remained where he was, without fear, saying to himself, “I will take the expedient course if any danger should arise.” And Yadbhavishya remained there, saying to himself, “What must be, must be.” Then those fishermen came and threw a net into that lake. But the cunning Pratyutpannamati, the moment he felt himself hauled up in the net, made himself rigid, and remained as if he were dead. The fishermen, who were killing the fish, did not kill him, thinking that he had died of himself, so he jumped into the current of the river, and went off somewhere else, as fast as he could. But Yadbhavishya, like a foolish fish, bounded and wriggled in the net, so the fishermen laid hold of him and killed him.
“So I too will adopt an expedient when the time arrives; I will not go away through fear of the sea.” Having said this to his wife, the ṭiṭṭibha remained where he was, in his nest; and there the sea heard his boastful speech. Now, after some days, the hen-bird laid eggs, and the sea carried off the eggs with his waves, out of curiosity, saying to himself; “I should like to know what this ṭiṭṭibha will do to me.” And the hen-bird, weeping, said to her husband; “The very calamity which I prophesied to you, has come upon us.” Then that resolute ṭiṭṭibha said to his wife, “See, what I will do to that wicked sea!” So he called together all the birds, and mentioned the insult he had received, and went with them and called on the lord Garuḍa for protection. And the birds said to him: “Though thou art our protector, we have been insulted by the sea as if we were unprotected, in that it has carried away some of our eggs.” Then Garuḍa was angry, and appealed to Vishṇu, who dried up the sea with the weapon of fire, and made it restore the eggs.[19]
“So you must be wise in calamity and not let go resolution. But now a battle with Pingalaka is at hand for you. When he shall erect his tail, and arise with his four feet together, then you may know that he is about to strike you. And you must have your head ready tossed up, and must gore him in the stomach, and lay your enemy low, with all his entrails torn out.”
After Damanaka had said this to the bull Sanjívaka, he went to Karaṭaka, and told him that he had succeeded in setting the two at variance.
Then Sanjívaka slowly approached Pingalaka, being desirous of finding out the mind of that king of beasts by his face and gestures. And he saw that the lion was prepared to fight, being evenly balanced on all four legs, and having erected his tail, and the lion saw that the bull had tossed up his head in fear. Then the lion sprang on the bull and struck him with his claws, the bull replied with his horns, and so their fight went on. And the virtuous Karaṭaka, seeing it, said to Damanaka—“Why have you brought calamity on our master to gain your own ends? Wealth obtained by oppression of subjects, friendship obtained by deceit, and a lady-love gained by violence, will not remain long. But enough; whoever says much to a person who despises good advice, incurs thereby misfortune, as Súchímukha from the ape.”
Story of the Monkeys, the Firefly, and the Bird.[20]
Once on a time, there were some monkeys wandering in a troop in a wood. In the cold weather they saw a firefly and thought it was real fire. So they placed grass and leaves upon it, and tried to warm themselves at it, and one of them fanned the firefly with his breath. A bird named Súchímukha, when he saw it, said to him, “This is not fire, this is a firefly, do not fatigue yourself.” Though the monkey heard, he did not desist, and thereupon the bird came down from the tree, and earnestly dissuaded him, at which the ape was annoyed, and throwing a stone at Súchímukha, crushed him.
“So one ought not to admonish him, who will not act on good advice. Why then should I speak? you well know that you brought about this quarrel with a mischievous object, and that which is done with evil intentions cannot turn out well.”
Story of Dharmabuddhi and Dushṭabuddhi.[21]
For instance, there were long ago in a certain village two brothers, the sons of a merchant, Dharmabuddhi and Dushṭabuddhi by name. They left their father’s house and went to another country to get wealth, and with great difficulty acquired two thousand gold dínárs. And with them they returned to their own city. And they buried those dínárs at the foot of a tree, with the exception of one hundred, which they divided between them in equal parts, and so they lived in their father’s house.
But one day Dushṭabuddhi went by himself and dug up of his own accord those dínárs, which were buried at the foot of the tree, for he was vicious and extravagant.[22] And after one month only had passed, he said to Dharmabuddhi: “Come, my elder brother, let us divide those dínárs; I have expenses.” When Dharmabuddhi heard that, he consented, and went and dug with him, where he had deposited the dínárs. And when they did not find any dínárs in the place where they had buried them, the treacherous Dushṭabuddhi said to Dharmabuddhi: “You have taken away the dínárs, so give me my half.” But Dharmabuddhi answered: “I have not taken them, you must have taken them.” So a quarrel arose, and Dushṭabuddhi hit Dharmabuddhi on the head with a stone, and dragged him into the king’s court. There they both stated their case, and as the king’s officers could not decide it, they were proceeding to detain them both for the trial by ordeal. Then Dushṭabuddhi said to the king’s officers; “The tree, at the foot of which these dínárs were placed, will depose, as a witness, that they were taken away by this Dharmabuddhi. And they were exceedingly astonished, but said, “Well, we will ask it to-morrow.” Then they let both Dharmabuddhi and Dushṭabuddhi go, after they had given bail, and they went separately to their house.
But Dushṭabuddhi told the whole matter to his father, and secretly giving him money, said; “Hide in the trunk of the tree and be my witness.” His father consented, so he took him and placed him at night in the capacious trunk of the tree, and returned home. And in the morning those two brothers went with the king’s officers, and asked the tree, who took away those dínárs. And their father, who was hidden in the trunk of the tree, replied in a loud clear voice: “Dharmabuddhi took away the dínárs.” When the king’s officers heard this surprising utterance, they said; “Surely Dushṭabuddhi must have hidden some one in the trunk.” So they introduced smoke into the trunk of the tree, which fumigated the father of Dushṭabuddhi so, that he fell out of the trunk on to the ground, and died. When the king’s officers saw this, they understood the whole matter, and they compelled Dushṭabuddhi to give up the dínárs to Dharmabuddhi. And so they cut off the hands and cut out the tongue of Dushṭabuddhi, and banished him, and they honoured Dharmabuddhi as a man who deserved his name.[23]
“So you see that a deed done with an unrighteous mind is sure to bring calamity, therefore one should do it with a righteous mind, as the crane did to the snake.”
Story of the Crane, the Snake and the Mungoose.[24]
Once on a time a snake came and ate the nestlings of a certain crane, as fast as they were born; that grieved the crane. So, by the advice of a crab, he went and strewed pieces of fish from the dwelling of a mungoose as far as the hole of the snake, and the mungoose came out, and following up the pieces of fish, eating as it went on, was led to the hole of the snake, which it saw and entered, and killed him and his offspring.
“So by a device one can succeed; now hear another story.”
Story of the mice that ate an iron balance.[25]
Once on a time there was a merchant’s son, who had spent all his father’s wealth, and had only an iron balance left to him. Now the balance was made of a thousand palas of iron; and depositing it in the care of a certain merchant, he went to another land. And when, on his return, he came to that merchant to demand back his balance, the merchant said to him: “It has been eaten by mice.” He repeated, “It is quite true, the iron, of which it was composed, was particularly sweet, and so the mice ate it.” This he said with an outward show of sorrow, laughing in his heart. Then the merchant’s son asked him to give him some food, and he, being in a good temper, consented to give him some. Then the merchant’s son went to bathe, taking with him the son of that merchant, who was a mere child, and whom he persuaded to come with him by giving him a dish of ámalakas. And after he had bathed, the wise merchant’s son deposited the boy in the house of a friend, and returned alone to the house of that merchant. And the merchant said to him, “Where is that son of mine?” He replied, “A kite swooped down from the air and carried him off.” The merchant in a rage said, “You have concealed my son,” and so he took him into the king’s judgment-hall; and there the merchant’s son made the same statement. The officers of the court said, “This is impossible, how could a kite carry off a boy?” But the merchant’s son answered; “In a country where a large balance of iron was eaten by mice, a kite might carry off an elephant, much more a boy.”[26] When the officers heard that, they asked about it, out of curiosity, and made the merchant restore the balance to the owner, and he, for his part, restored the merchant’s child.
“Thus, you see, persons of eminent ability attain their ends by an artifice. But you, by your reckless impetuosity, have brought our master into danger.” When Damanaka heard this from Karaṭaka, he laughed and said—“Do not talk like this! What chance is there of a lion’s not being victorious in a fight with a bull? There is a considerable difference between a lion, whose body is adorned with numerous scars of wounds from the tusks of infuriated elephants, and a tame ox, whose body has been pricked by the goad.” While the jackals were carrying on this discussion, the lion killed the bull Sanjívaka. When he was slain, Damanaka recovered his position of minister without a rival, and remained for a long time about the person of the king of beasts in perfect happiness.
Naraváhanadatta much enjoyed hearing from his prime minister Gomukha this wonderful story, which was full of statecraft, and characterized by consummate ability.