The Pond Heron. (Variant.)
In a certain country a Pond Heron stayed, it is said. At the time while the Pond Heron was there, seeking small fishes in the tanks, a great general drought befel. On account of it all the tanks dried up. The Pond Heron ate all the small fishes that stayed in them.
Having eaten them, he remained hungry for two or three days, there being no more small fishes. Having been in that state, and having flown away to seek food, as he was going along he saw that a tank having dried up, small fishes were there, being unable to go elsewhere.
The Pond Heron having gone there, asked the small fishes, “What, friends, are you there for?”
Then the small fishes said, “Anē! Friend, the little water that there was for us having dried up, we are without water.”
After that, the Pond Heron said, “If so, friends, there is a good river for you. I will take you to it, and put you down there.”
The little fishes said, “It is good, friend. If so, take us and put us down there.”
The Pond Heron said, “If so, let one come [first, and see the river],” and holding it with his bill he took it to the river, and put it down.
That small fish going in the water all round the river came near the Pond Heron. Then the Pond Heron having said to the small fish, “Let us go, friend,” the small fish said, “Friend, I cannot go.”
The Pond Heron said, “No, friend, let us go. Can you remain, without going? Your other people are to come.”
Afterwards the small fish said “Hā.” So the Pond Heron, taking the small fish with his bill, came flying back. Having come to a great rough tree, and settled on a branch of the tree, he ate the small fish.
Again he went flying to the place where the small fishes were. The small fishes asked, “Friend, one of us went with you. Where is he?”
The Pond Heron replied, “Friends, he said he would not come. He stayed in the river.”
Then those small fishes said, “If so, go with us, and put us down in it.”
After that, the Pond Heron, taking one of them, settled on the tree at which he ate that small fish, and ate it. Again he came to the place where the other small fishes were. Then those small fishes said, “Friend, take us also, and put us in the river.”
The Pond Heron again having taken a small fish and settled on that very tree, ate it. Thus, in that way having taken the small fishes until they were finished, he ate them all.
Having finished the small fishes, a Crab was omitted outside. The Pond Heron came and asked the Crab, “What, friend, are you here alone for?”
The Crab said, “Anē! Friend, the small fishes of this tank went to the quarters where they went. I alone remain.”
Then the Pond Heron said, “Friend, shall I take you also to the river, and put you down in it?” The Crab said “Hā.”
Afterwards the Pond Heron, holding the Crab with his bill, took it and settled on the tree on which he ate the small fishes. While he was there the Crab asked, “What, friend, have you delayed here for?”
Then the Pond Heron said, “It is here that I ate also the few small fishes that stayed in the tank. It is here I shall eat you also.”
Afterwards the Crab, having stiffened his claws a little, seized the neck of the Pond Heron. Then the Pond Heron with his bill tightened his hold of the Crab. Thus, in that way holding each other, both of them died, and fell on the ground below the tree.
Tom-tom Beater. North-western Province.
The Jātaka story No. 38 (vol. i, p. 96), about a Crane and a Crab, nearly agrees with the second of these tales, but the ending is like that of the first one, the Crab killing the Crane. It is also much more artificial and developed in the conversations.
It is possible that the story related by the Durayā may represent a very early form of the tale, or perhaps the original one. If the story were derived from the Jātaka tale, it is very improbable that in a country where ponds are more numerous than in any other, we should find the pool of the Jātaka, to which the fishes were to be taken, displaced in two of these by a river.
The story is given in Indian Fables (Ramaswami Raju), p. 88. A Crane pretended to carry the fish to a pond, and was killed by a Crab.
In Skeat’s Fables and Folk-Tales from an Eastern Forest, p. 18, the bird was a Pelican, which was killed by a Crab.
In the Panchatantra (Dubois), a Cormorant came to the fishes at a pool, and allayed their suspicions by putting on an appearance of piety and by alleging that he had become a religious devotee. He informed them that he foresaw a twelve years’ drought, in which the pools would dry up and they would perish, and he offered to transport them to a mountain pool fed by a perennial spring. They were eaten on a rock, and the Crab strangled the bird.
In the Kathā Sarit Sāgara (Tawney), vol. ii, p. 31, the animals were a Crane and a Makara, which is said by the translator to generally mean a crocodile, though in early carvings in Ceylon and India it is a fabulous animal with two short legs and a tail usually curved upon its back. The bird frightened the fish by saying that a man was coming to catch them with a net, and he offered to convey them to a lake. When the Makara was taken to the rock at which the others were killed, he cut off the Crane’s head.
This story nearly agrees with that in the Hitōpadesa, in which a Crab killed the bird.
[1] Kokkā, a word which also means Egret, and some other large wading birds. [↑]
[2] Lūlā (Ophiocephalus striatus). [↑]
[3] Kanakokā (Ardeola grayi). [↑]
No. 65
The Jackal and the Brāhmaṇa
In a certain city a Jackal according to custom was eating the fowls, it is said. Now, as the Jackal was there eating the fowls, by degrees he finished all the fowls in that manner. There was still one fowl at the royal palace.
So this Jackal went to the royal palace to eat the fowl. After he had come there the Jackal tried to catch it, and while he was there striving to eat the fowl it became light. There being no means of going away because of the people, he sought a place in which to remain hidden. As he was seeking it, except that there was open ground and no jungle, when he looked there was only a clump of weeds as a hiding place.
While he was in it peeping out, a Brāhmaṇa comes near. This Jackal asked, “You Brāhmaṇa! Where art thou going?” he asked.
The Brāhmaṇa says, “I am going in search of a livelihood.”
The Jackal says, “I will give thee a means of subsistence; carry me here and there,” he said.
Then the Brāhmaṇa taking the Jackal slung him by his four legs. “Dost thou carry me by the legs to some place to give a livelihood to thee?” he said.
“If not, how shall I carry thee?” the Brāhmaṇa asked.
Then the Jackal says, “Having placed me in thy upper garment take me up and go,” he said. “Look here! Take me and go thou along the road which leads to this jungle,” he said. “Having taken me and gone on it there will be a clump of wild dates. Do thou put me down near the clump of wild dates,” he said.
So the Jackal came to the open ground in the bundle. Then the Jackal told this Brāhmaṇa, after he had placed the bundle on the ground, to stay looking in the direction of the sun. Having remained looking in the direction of the sun, he told him to look in the direction of the clump of wild dates, and to take the kahawaṇas (coins) which were placed in it. When he had looked in the direction of the clump of wild dates, the rays of the sun having entered his eyes a yellow colour went into everything, and he thought he saw some money in it.
So the Brāhmaṇa crept into the clump of wild dates and passed his hand through it, and looked through it. Then because there were no kahawaṇas, he came out into the open ground.
When he looked on the path there was no Jackal. Then the Brāhmaṇa said, “There is neither the journey that I came for, nor the kahawaṇas. Aḍā! Aḍā!” So he went away.
Durayā. North-western Province.
In this story we find one of the lowest castes of the Chaṇḍālas making fun of the highest caste of all, a mild revenge for their treatment by the latter. As part of the joke, the Jackal is represented as addressing the Brāhmaṇa in the manner in which the latter would have spoken to a Durayā, and as being carried about by him, thus turning the tables completely, the chief duty of the Durayās being carrying loads for others.
In the Jātaka story No. 113 (vol. i, p. 255) a Jackal having overslept himself in some bushes in Benares, concealed himself until a Brāhmaṇa came near. By promising him two hundred gold pieces he induced the man to carry him concealed under his robe until they reached the cremation ground. There he told him to dig up a tree in order to get the treasure, and then ran off while the man was occupied with the work.
No. 66
The Cat who guarded the Precepts
A Cat having seen that a sun-dried fish was in a bag of rice, at the time when he was going to it to eat it, a rosary [hanging there] fell on his neck.
After it had fallen, as he was going away with it on his neck a Jungle-hen met him, and ran off. The Cat then says, “I am guarding (that is, keeping) the Precepts (of Buddha, sil rakinawā). Tummal Kittī,[1] come here and go with me.”
While he was taking her with him they met with a Ground Cuckoo. He called this one: “ ‘Bug-bug’-singing Kāccalē,[2] I am guarding the Precepts. Come here and go with me.”
As they were going they met with a Hare. He called him also: “Tokkā[3] the Devil-dancer, come here and go with me. I am guarding the Precepts.”
Having gone to a rock cave [as a pansala or monk’s residence], while they were there the Cat said, “Tokkā the Devil-dancer, Tummal Kittī having scratched [the ground] in the pansala has defiled it. I must kill this one,” he said.
When the Hare said, “It is good,” he killed her.
After the Cat had said, “It is not a fault to eat a dead one, is it?” when the Hare replied, “No, there is not any fault in it,” he ate her.
Afterwards the Cat said, “Tokkā the Devil-dancer, this ‘Bug-bug’-singing Kāccalē has been drinking arrack (palm spirit) until his eyes have become red.” When he said, “I must kill this one,” he killed it. Then saying, “There is no fault in eating a dead one,” he ate it.
Then he said, “Tokkā the Devil-dancer, thou having dropped dung in the pansala art defiling it.” When he said, “I must kill thee,” the Hare said, “Yes, killing me is virtuous and proper. I must first perform a great gallop[4] and a little gallop, two gallops.[5] After that there will be no fault if you kill me,” he said.
“Yes, perform them,” the Cat said.
Then the Hare having run round [the cave], “There! The small gallop,” he said. Again having gone running round, and [then] having jumped over the Cat’s head, while he was running away he said, “There! The great gallop,” and ran off.
Durayā. North-western Province.
How the Cat became an Upāsakā.[6] (Variant.)
At a certain time, at the house of a Gamarāla, milk having been taken and placed on the shelf by him [to curdle], the Gamarāla went to the chena.
There is a Cat at the house. The Cat having looked [to see] when the Gamarāla was not there, went to the shelf to eat the curds by stealth. Having gone there and eaten them by stealth, as he was coming away the Gamarāla came home from the chena, and the Cat, becoming afraid, sprang down.
The Gamarāla’s rosary was hanging on the shelf. As the Cat deceitfully was springing down, the rosary fell on the Cat’s neck. Then while the rosary was on its neck it goes away. Why? Should the Gamarāla get to know about its eating the curds he would thrash it inordinately.
Well then, as it was going it met with a Rat. The Rat [seeing the rosary] asked the Cat, “Upāsakarāla,[7] where are you going?”
“I am going to guard the Precepts,” he said. “You also come and go along with me,” he said.
At the time when the two were going they met with the Squirrel called the Three-lined Chief.[8] “Upāsakarāla, where are you going?” he asked.
“We are going to guard the Precepts. You also come and go with us,” he said. The Squirrel having said, “Hā. I will come,” the three went along [together].
As they were going they met with the Ground Cuckoo called Bum-bum the Tom-tom Beater. “Where, Upāsakarāla, are you going?” he asked.
“We are going to guard the Precepts. You also come,” he said.
The Ground Cuckoo having said, “Hā. If so, I also will come,” the four went together.
At the time when they were going they met with the Hare called Tokkan the Devil-dancer. “Upāsakarālas, where are you going?” he asked.
“We are going to guard the Precepts. You also come and go with us,” he said.
Well then, the five went to the jungle. Having gone on and on, there was a rock cave. Having said, “Look there! Our pansala,” he told the people to creep inside. “In order that I may go and rehearse the Precepts, let no single other person besides cause any disturbance,” he said.
Then the Rat, being hungry during the night, was wriggling about. So the Upāsakā Cat said, “Aḍē! While Bum-bum the Tom-tom Beater stays there quietly, while the Three-lined Chief stays there [quietly], while Tokkan the Devil-dancer stays there [quietly], this one does not take [to heart] the things that were said. Being on guard over it I must put it out of the way.”[9] Saying this, he ate the Rat.
At the daybreak watch the Ground Cuckoo crowed [as usual]. After it had crowed, the Cat said, “While the Three-lined Chief stays there [quietly], while Tokkan the Devil-dancer stays there [quietly], because this one is making noises, and as I am on guard over it, I must put it out of the way,” and seizing that one also he ate it.
As it became light in the morning, at the time when the Squirrels were singing, “Tin̥-Tin̥,” the Three-lined Chief also sang, “Tin̥-Tin̥.”
Then the Cat said, “While Tokkan the Devil-dancer stays there quietly, and I stay here [quietly], this one having said it through arrogance, and as I am on guard over it, I must put it out of the way.” Having said this he ate that one also.
Now then, the Hare called Tokkan the Devil-dancer ascertaining that he was eating it, began to cry in the morning.
“What, Tokkan the Devil-dancer, are you crying for?” he asked.
“I know thoroughly how to dance dances. Because there is no one to look at the dances I was sorry,” he said.
After he had said, “If so, dance a little for me to look at it,” the Hare said, “Upāsakarāla, open the doorway so that a little light may fall into the cave. Having seen my dance you must eat me also,” the Hare said.
When he moved from the door, out of the way, for a little light to fall inside, the Hare, having jumped to the four corners of the cave, springing over the head of the Cat went away.
P. B. Madahapola, Raṭēmahatmayā. North-western Province.