Story of the Foolish Bald Man and the Fool who pelted him.
There was a certain bald man with a head like a copper pot. Once on a time a young man, who, being hungry, had gathered wood-apples, as he was coming along his path, saw him sitting at the foot of a tree. In fun he hit him on the head with a wood-apple; the bald man took it patiently and said nothing to him. Then he hit his head with all the rest of the wood-apples that he had, throwing them at him one after another, and the bald man remained silent, even though the blood flowed. So the foolish young fellow had to go home hungry without his wood-apples, which he had broken to pieces in his useless and childish pastime of pelting the bald man; and the foolish bald man went home with his head streaming with blood, saying to himself; “Why should I not submit to being pelted with such delicious wood-apples?” And everybody there laughed, when they saw him with his head covered with blood, looking like the diadem with which he had been crowned king of fools.
“Thus you see, prince, that foolish persons become the objects of ridicule in the world, and do not succeed in their objects; but wise persons are honoured.”
When Naraváhanadatta had heard from Gomukha these elegant and amusing anecdotes, he rose up and performed his day’s duties. And when night came on, the prince was anxious to hear some more stories, and at his request, Gomukha told this story about wise creatures.
Story of the Crow and the King of the Pigeons, the Tortoise and the Deer.[12]
There was in a certain forest region a great Śalmali tree; and in it there lived a crow, named Laghupátin, who had made his dwelling there. One day, as he was in his nest, he saw below the tree a terrible-looking man arrive with a stick, net in hand. And while the crow looked down from the tree, he saw that the man spread out the net on the ground, and strewed there some rice, and then hid himself.
In the meanwhile the king of the pigeons, named Chitragríva, as he was roaming through the air, attended by hundreds of pigeons, came there, and seeing the grains of rice scattered on the ground, he alighted on the net out of desire for food, and got caught in the meshes with all his attendants. When Chitragríva saw that, he said to all his followers; “Take the net in your beaks, and fly up into the air as fast as you can.” All the terrified pigeons said,—“So be it”—and taking the net, they flew up swiftly, and began to travel through the air. The fowler too rose up, and with eye fixed upwards, returned despondent. Then Chitragríva, being relieved from his fear, said to his followers; “Let us quickly go to my friend the mouse Hiraṇya, he will gnaw these meshes asunder and set us at liberty.” With these words he went on with those pigeons, who were dragging the net along with them, and descended from the air at the entrance of a mouse’s hole. And there the king of the pigeons called the mouse, saying,—“Hiraṇya, come out, I, Chitragríva, have arrived.” And when the mouse heard through the entrance, and saw that his friend had come, he came out from that hole with a hundred openings. The mouse went up to him, and when he had heard what had taken place, proceeded with the utmost eagerness to gnaw asunder the meshes, that kept the pigeon-king and his retinue prisoners. And when he had gnawed the meshes asunder, Chitragríva took leave of him with kind words, and flew up into the air with his companions.
And when the crow, who had followed the pigeons, saw that, he came to the entrance of the hole, and said to the mouse who had re-entered it; “I am Laghupátin, a crow; seeing that you tender your friends dearly, I choose you for my friend, as you are a creature capable of delivering from such calamities.” When the mouse saw that crow from the inside of his hole, he said, “Depart! what friendship can there be between the eater and his prey?” Then the crow said,—“God forbid! If I were to eat you, my hunger might be satisfied for a moment, but if I make you my friend, my life will be always preserved by you.” When the crow had said this, and more, and had taken an oath, and so inspired confidence in the mouse, the mouse came out, and the crow made friends with him. The mouse brought out pieces of flesh and grains of rice, and there they both remained eating together in great happiness.
And one day the crow said to his friend the mouse: “At a considerable distance from this place there is a river in the middle of a forest, and in it there lives a tortoise named Mantharaka, who is a friend of mine; for his sake I will go to that place where flesh and other food is easily obtained; it is difficult for me to obtain sustenance here, and I am in continual dread of the fowler.” When the crow said this to him, the mouse answered,—“Then we will live together, take me there also; for I too have an annoyance here, and when we get there, I will explain the whole matter to you.” When Hiraṇya said this, Laghupátin took him in his beak, and flew to the bank of that forest stream. And there he found his friend, the tortoise Mantharaka, who welcomed him, and he and the mouse sat with him. And after they had conversed a little, that crow told the tortoise the cause of his coming, together with the circumstance of his having made friends with Hiraṇya. Then the tortoise adopted the mouse, as his friend on an equal footing with the crow, and asked the cause of the annoyance which drove him from his native place. Then Hiraṇya gave this account of his experiences in the hearing of the crow and the tortoise.