For once on a time there was a carpenter, who had a wife whom he loved dearly; and the carpenter heard from his neighbours that she was in love with another man; so, wishing to test the fidelity of his wife, he said to her one day: “My dear, I am by command of the king going a long journey to-day, in order to do a job, so give me barley-meal and other things as provision for the journey.” She obeyed and gave him provisions, and he went out of the house; and then secretly came back into it, and with a pupil of his hid himself under the bed. As for the wife, she summoned her paramour. And while she was sitting with him on the bed, the wicked woman happened to touch her husband with her foot, and found out that he was there. And a moment after, her paramour, being puzzled, asked her which she loved the best, himself or her husband. When she heard this, the artful and treacherous woman said to that lover of hers; “I love my husband best, for his sake I would surrender my life. As for this unfaithfulness of mine, it is natural to women; they would even eat dirt, if they had no noses.”
When the carpenter heard this hypocritical speech of the adulteress, he came out from under the bed, and said to his pupil; “You have seen, you are my witness to this; though my wife has betaken herself to this lover, she is still so devoted to me; so I will carry her on my head.” When the silly fellow had said this, he immediately took them both up, as they sat on the bed, upon his head, with the help of his pupil, and carried them about.
“So an undiscerning blockhead, though he sees a crime committed before his eyes, is satisfied with hypocritical flattery, and makes himself ridiculous. So you must not spare Chirajívin, who is a follower of your enemy, for, if not carefully watched, he might slay your Majesty in a moment, like a disease.” When the king of the owls heard Raktáksha say this, he answered; “It was in trying to benefit us that the worthy creature was reduced to this state. So how can we do otherwise than spare his life? Besides, what harm can he do us unaided?” So the king of the owls rejected the advice of Raktáksha, and comforted that crow Chirajívin. Then Chirajívin said to the king of the owls, “What is the use to me of life, now that I am in this state? So have logs of wood brought me, in order that I may enter the fire. And I will ask the fire as a boon, that I may be born again as an owl, in order that I may wreak my vengeance upon this king of the crows.” When he said this, Raktáksha laughed and said to him; “By the favour of our master you will be well enough off: what need is there of fire? Moreover you will never become an owl, as long as you have the nature of a crow. Every creature is such as he is made by the Creator.”
Story of the mouse that was turned into a maiden.[16]
For once on a time a hermit found a young mouse, which had escaped from the claws of a kite, and pitying it, made it by the might of his asceticism into a young maiden. And he brought her up in his hermitage; and, when he saw that she had grown up, wishing to give her to a powerful husband, he summoned the sun. And he said to the sun; “Marry this maiden, whom I wish to give in marriage to some mighty one.” Then the sun answered, “The cloud is more powerful than I, he obscures me in a moment.” When the hermit heard that, he dismissed the sun, and summoned the cloud, and made the same proposal to him. He replied, “The wind is more powerful than I: he drives me into any quarter of the heaven he pleases.” When the hermit got this answer, he summoned the wind and made the same proposal to him. And the wind replied, “The mountains are stronger than I, for I cannot move them.” When the great hermit heard this, he summoned the Himálaya, and made the same proposal to him. That mountain answered him; “The mice are stronger than I am, for they dig holes in me.”
Having thus got these answers in succession from those wise divinities, the great ṛishi summoned a forest mouse, and said to him, “Marry this maiden.” Thereupon the mouse said, “Shew me how she is to be got into my hole.” Then the hermit said, “It is better that she should return to her condition as a mouse.” So he made her a mouse again, and gave her to that male mouse.
“So a creature returns to what it was, at the end of a long peregrination, accordingly you, Chirajívin, will never become an owl.” When Raktáksha said this to Chirajívin, the latter reflected; “This king has not acted on the advice of this minister, who is skilled in policy. All these others are fools, so my object is gained.” While he was thus reflecting, the king of the owls took Chirajívin with him to his own fortress, confiding in his own strength, disregarding the advice of Raktáksha. And Chirajívin, being about his person, and fed with pieces of meat and other delicacies by him, soon acquired as splendid a plumage as a peacock.[17] One day, Chirajívin said to the king of the owls; “King, I will go and encourage that king of the crows and bring him back to his dwelling, in order that you may attack him this night and slay him, and that I may make[18] some return for this favour of yours. But do you all fortify your door with grass and other things, and remain in the cave where your nests are, that they may not attack you by day.” When, by saying this, Chirajívin had made the owls retire into their cave, and barricade the door and the approaches to the cave, with grass and leaves, he went back to his own king. And with him he returned, carrying a brand from a pyre, all ablaze, in his beak, and every one of the crows that followed him had a piece of wood hanging down from his beak. And the moment he arrived, he set on fire the door of the cave, in which were those owls, creatures that are blind by day, which had been barricaded with dry grass and other stuff.
And every crow, in the same way, threw down at the same time his piece of wood, and so kindled a fire and burnt the owls, king and all.[19] And the king of the crows, having destroyed his enemies with the help of Chirajívin, was highly delighted, and returned with his tribe of crows to his own banyan-tree. Then Chirajívin told the story of how he lived among his enemies, to king Meghavarṇa, the king of the crows, and said to him; “Your enemy, king, had one good minister named Raktáksha; it is because he was infatuated by confidence, and did not act on that minister’s advice, that I was allowed to remain uninjured. Because the villain did not act on his advice, thinking it was groundless, I was able to gain the confidence of the impolitic fool, and to deceive him. It was by a feigned semblance of submission that the snake entrapped and killed the frogs.”